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Lazy Sunday

Could I pick a more cliché title? The problem is, I’m feeling too lazy to think of a better one.

But it’s descriptive enough, and I’m not going for the next Great American Novel, anyway.

I left the house twice: first to walk to Headington for far too much produce and meat to fit into my mini-fridge, and then again for the usual 3-mile run with John. It wasn’t too cold. I was actually sweating on my way back from town, possibly due to too many layers of fleece and also because I had coconut oil on my head and just slapped a knit hat on top. Deep conditioning while grocery shopping – genius, I know.

I’m toying with the idea of doing one of those terrible healthy-eating cleanses because I feel really run down lately, and this one seems sane enough, albeit just as annoyingly evangelical as the others. But I like cheese and bacon and chocolate too much (we have this deliciousness in the house) and I’m not good at following rules. Maybe I should do something productive instead of whining about having unlimited access to yummy things. On a positive note, I got this in ebook format, and now my mini-fridge is full of colorful vegetables – a step in the right direction.

Yesterday, we watched Last Vegas, which just made me think about how old Michael Douglas and Kevin Kline are getting. That sounds terrible, but I mean it in a good way. You look at those actors and just think about how many days, weeks, years they’ve experienced. I complain about Mondays that feel too long, but one day I’ll look back and not remember anything about any particular Monday. Memory is marked in big events, and we probably forget most of the ordinary days. That’s kind of sad, isn’t it?

So I’ll try to enjoy the rest of this lazy Sunday, and the impending tomorrow. Because one day I’ll be as old as Michael Douglas, too, and I’d like to remember enjoying even Mondays.

Last weekend, I got pulled over, twice.

By two different “cops.” For two different bicycle violations. Apparently, you’re not supposed to go through red lights, even when the coast is clear for miles. Who knew? I pulled my best “I’m from Philly, we don’t have rules,” and the officer (who took his job far too seriously, I might add) told me, “I appreciate where you’re from, but blah blah normally a £30 fine.” Cue the smiling, nodding, and apologizing. Then he told me, “If I see you again…” and I had to try really hard not to laugh. But I guess Oxford is a pretty small town, and unfortunately, he probably will see me again at some point. At least next time, I’ll know there’s nothing more urgent for the police to attend to around here, and I should probably stop at a red light.

The second offense was for riding through a “pedestrianized” zone (10 am – 6 pm). But I was just following that guy! (pointing to the biker who, by now, is at least a block away). And the second “cop” was the same one who helped me register my bike earlier that day (in case of theft, probably the only crime in Oxford worth worrying about).

In other news, it’s been a month since we went to Germany, and I already feel like I need another vacation. It’ll be time to go home soon for the wedding, but I want to sneak in a long weekend somewhere before then– to anywhere, really. But train prices are ridiculous, and flights…well, those countless hours spent getting to Stansted and waiting around make the train prices a little easier to swallow. Anyway, I’ll keep you posted on where we go next.

Hmm, what else. You want wedding updates? Sorry, won’t do it. Before we embarked upon this whole thing (from picking an official date, and onward), John and I outlined our vision of a low-key, low-stress, more like a party than an actual wedding, small guest list, don’t-even-know-if-I’ll-wear-a-white-dress event. There were no complaints at that time, and I thought we might actually get away with it. Of course, now the time is approaching, and everyone has something to say. Something critical.

I landed on that word because it has various definitions, and in this case, several apply:

“Having a decisive or crucial importance in the success or failure of something.”

“Expressing adverse or disapproving comments or judgments.”

Thanks for offering advice, but detail X is simply not critical at this moment (or in the future, if I’m being honest). Also, the concept of “advice” itself is often nothing more than thinly-veiled criticism.

I do appreciate offers of support, but what I want more than anything else is just for people to show up and have a good time. I’m a detail-oriented person, and I’ve got plenty of nerdy spreadsheets to help me throughout this process. Because it is a process, no matter how “low-key” it ends up. The difference is, I know which details are important and which are not.

In the end, it’s one day, one party. Things never go as we plan, so why stress? It’s more about enjoying the beginning of something new. Becoming husband and wife and all of that sentimental crap. So please, no advice, unless it entails procuring sedatives.