Tagged: barista

It’s on.

flower child    no pictures please

Today Gabe is wearing a white t-shirt, green sunglasses, and blue shorts.

This post might not be a very good one; I’m writing it late at night, unable to sleep, after a day of flying across the country to visit my parents in Illinois. It’s such a long day of travel that always leaves me simultaneously buzzing and completely exhausted. I am not a good flier.

I was coming from Seattle, where Gabe and I were for a few days visiting friends. It was crazy to be in the city again after becoming such country bumpkins over the last year. Okay, Gabe was never really a city person to begin with, but it has been a big change for me, though a surprisingly easy one. It turns out I am a country person; I just never lived in the country before.

But as we drove into Seattle, I felt a sense of anxiety start to build, just looking at all the cars and buildings. I usually feel a little thrill when I get to the city, but not this time.

(Though I was still pretty jazzed to have not one, not two, but three grocery stores within walking distance of the apartment where we were staying [as opposed to having one tiny one that is a 15 minute drive down the highway away]. And I got to visit a fancy coffee shop and get served a great latte by a hipster instead of the hippies that I am used to.)

But my day of travel left my tired as always, even though I was actually able to work on the plane and not just spend the whole time trying to remind myself that thousands of flights happen every day and the pilot is very good at his or her job, etc etc.

It was pretty therapeutic to spend the time writing and planning instead of worrying.

These last few weeks have been really busy and crazy, and I am looking forward to some downtime while I’m with my parents. Here are a couple of things that have gotten me through these busy weeks:

romeo is my constant

Romeo is my constant. On a particularly stressful day last week, he found our front door and let himself inside. Then he hopped into my bed and made like a rolly-polly.


Can you believe this place is real? Gabe and I stopped on our way to Seattle to visit friends who live on a farm outside Salem, OR. This is in their back yard. It is a lake with a dock with a picnic table on it. It was…perfect.

it's on!

Oh yes, it’s on. The star of my blog and I are getting full-on married next year. So that is a pretty great thing that has happened in the last few weeks too. 🙂

Droopy eye.

look up in the sky!   it's a bird! it's a gabe!

Today Gabe is wearing a green fleece, khaki pants, and brown boots.

Have you ever had a day where you didn’t sleep enough? The whole day feels so long. Decisions are so hard. Tiny things swing you hugely in one way or another. A cup of coffee? You’re on the moon — for five minutes. Twenty minutes later you’re debating whether or not it’s socially acceptable to put your head down on the table in a coffee shop where technically you did pay for the privilege to sit a table with a cup of coffee, but does “sitting” also include putting your face on the table if you’re very quiet and not bothering anyone?

And then upon deciding it’s probably not  acceptable, you just stare blankly at a barista cheerfully wiping down an espresso machine and wonder, “Have I ever been that happy?”.

Or maybe you think nothing at all.

But the best part about days like that — where the hours drag on and yet go by without notice — is knowing that at some point it will be bedtime. It might feel impossibly far away, but it’s coming.

That was me yesterday.

I waited patiently all day for bedtime. I stared out windows, closed my eyes riding in the car, and gaped at my computer screen while trying to look like I was working.

I did my best to play, with a few friends, a board game described to me as “like Risk, only a lot longer”.

And then finally, it was bedtime.

Hooray! Oh, bedtime. It’s so nice to see you.

And then…

And then it was 4am. And then I was awake. And then it was today. Only today was yesterday. A tired, sleepy stretch of hours; a bleak countdown to bedtime.

At least today I know what I’m in for.

I’m writing this missive during a brief “up” period, which I can already tell is starting to cave in around me. My thoughts are starting to unfocus; the barista keeps looking up to find my glassy, vacant eyes watching her hands deftly fly between the stainless steel tools at her workstation.

It is time to get in the car and go home. It is time to sleep. Or at least think about sleeping.

Countdown to bedtime: 10 hours…9:59:59…9:59:58…