BWI flotsam

I haven’t been logged into my blog account for a while. Here I am, back again. And just incidentally, I can tell when you’ve started to miss me, by the fact that you stalk my blog even though I haven’t posted anything in days and days and you’re likely subscribed and therefore you know you didn’t miss anything. That’s right, I’m talking to you. Aw, it’s alright. I’ve created cyber-connections now and then myself, when I was missing someone I care about. Sorry for neglecting my blogging responsibilities. Thanks for caring.

For all I love a plan-coming-together, it occurred to me yesterday that virtually every weekend from late May to late August have had SOMETHING going on. Only a couple of which have been work-intruding-on-my-life. On the one hand. I totally love how that indicates that I have a rich life, full of loving connections. On the other hand, I am just a teensy bit exhausted. You know, in an awesome way.

Call it exhaustion. Call it residual from the medical fluff I’m choosing not to uselessly hyperfocus on. I still have the odd moments when I think, if I’m going to die (If? Don’t we all?) would I get a chance to tell this one or that one what their friendship has meant to me? And then I think, if I sent them a note just because you should say the things that matter, would it weird them out? Would they worry that it was a cry for help? Would it send the wrong message entirely? And then I remember my propensity for self-weirding, and the fact that I am really prone to saying the things that matter even if it’s totally awkward.. and I shake it off again.

Over the last few days, the cubano (formerly known as the boy) gave me a scare: I don’t call that often, because we’re not “involved” or whatever, but we’re friends and I sent him a message this week, and then didn’t hear anything. In all the years I’ve known him, even after when we were most on the “outs” he’s never NOT called back, let alone not called back for days. And not that I’ve unexpectedly got a “mortality” subtext going on or anything, but I wondered how I would know if something had happened to him. Seriously, we’re fairly disconnected. How would I find that out? How long a lag would it be? But no, apparently, he just went to the beach for the week and hasn’t been checking his phone often. Ergo, he’s not been returning his messages. (Actually, for all I know, he also met a nice chica at the beach and thought it would be awkward to mention. Dude. You’re a free agent. I wouldn’t want you to be lonely. So that would be cool; you’d could say so and I’d be happy for you.Just don’tscare me like that.)

Apparently it’s been a heat wave for about a week now. Working so many hours lately, I just thought it was really, really hot. So, overwork can be a good thing, perspective-wise. But my brain might be a little more cooked than I thought. Though I might not be able to attribute that 100% to the heat.

I went to visit my parents to escape the heat for the weekend. Not only will I probably not die of heatstroke, my electric bill – due to not running A/C this weekend – will not try to kill me either. See how that’s a WIN twice over?

My parents live really close to a winery. Have I spelled everything right? Has my flotsam seemed a little gibberishy? Is “gibberishy” a word? Sorry about that. But not sorry enough to keep me from Blogging While Intoxicated (BWI)

I hope you’re having a nice weekend!

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About aka gringita
Flotsam generator. Amateur photographer. Avid traveler. Christ follower.

3 Responses to BWI flotsam

  1. I don’t see any glaring spelling errors, but there is this: you’d could say so. But you’ve got alcohol to blame, so overall this post makes a ton more sense than it should.

    The Cubano, eh? That’s going to take some getting used to. He’s been the boy forever!

    Like

  2. congluteous says:

    Where do you come up with the nicknames? BWI, so clever.

    Like

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