It is Sunday, and Frances is in Winston-Salem with her Grammy. Last time she was there I called all the time, wanting updates on how much she’d eaten and when she’d slept, but this time I’m fine fine fine with her being away. Yesterday I organized all kinds of too-small Frances clothes and soon-to-be-used gender neutral clothes into size stacks, which gave me enormous pleasure. Then I vacuumed the house and browsed at Target before picking Mitch up from a reception/party thing I’d opted not to go to. AND THEN we went shopping for cars. For SUVs, specifically, but what we ended up driving—yet again—was the minivan. Oh my. It’s just absolutely the most logical choice. It stinks, really, but there it is. Why it is that we only shop for cars when it’s below 30 outside I do not know. All my memories of car shopping take place in the freezing cold and in the dark. And in the end I agreed to a minivan. I did. We, in fact, might buy one sooner rather than later because they had some good deals on the 2007s left on the lot. We’d originally thought we’d wait until closer to the move to make a purchase…will see.
After the car shopping we went on a DATE, to dinner at a Turkish place on Franklin Street and then swing dancing in Carrboro. It all made me feel like a real person with a full life; amazing how one day can do that. Being on Franklin St in the freezing cold, walking up the brick sidewalk by students and folks out for nice meals, being where people were out just to be out, not to run an errand or get home quickly or minimize the stress of the task, but just to enjoy—it was great. At dinner the tables were really close together and we sat between two very funny conversations. On one side of us was a couple who seemed to find life more stressful than enjoyable, who spent most of their dinner complaining about how busy the restaurant was and how the waiter had forgotten to bring the napkins, as well as speculating about whether they were short staffed or the service had just gone to the dogs. On the other side were 2 couples who spent most of the time talking about which Colorado ski resort had the raddest skiing, and about the two fella’s recent acquisitions of their pilot’s licenses. The women added their points by waving their hands around and using their large glittering diamonds as punctuation. M and I talked about whether to get leather or cloth seats in the minivan. (Anyone with pluses or minuses post them here.) I’d nearly forgotten there were folks out there living regular non-parent lives. Doesn’t everyone on earth have a small child and spend days upon days inside the house, only venturing out for more bananas and baby cereal at the grocery?
Frances comes home this afternoon. Hopefully by then I’ll have the new storm door installed—one more thing I want to get done before she’s here again, sweet thing.