I couldn't decide whether to go to the gym or to let my body rest. I went to the gym and watched more than half of My Best Friend's Wedding, which is and always has been terrible, while I cycled and then hiked in place. This hour of cardio signifies a "light" day, and therefore I have rested.
I want to go to Sunstone. I have a cousin at LDS University of Choice who wants me to go with him. I am legitimately invested in the topics being addressed, especially the treatment and doctrine behind mental illness/disability within the Church. One of the sessions discusses this in depth. One of the panelists during this session is Mr. PNU. I asked M— what she thought I should do. Her answer: "Oooh. Can I go? We can sit on the back row together." I will probably go. I will probably also take my 16-year-old daughter. I will try to feel both justified in being there and also awkward about being there.
I am reading four books at present. It's frustrating having this kind of ADHD interaction with my literature, but it's always been this way. I am in love with M. Scott Peck, Sherwood Anderson, Marilynne Robinson, and Robert Hass, which is sadly demonstrative of my ability to stay focused in relationships. Or is it indicative of my polyandrous inclination?
I am not writing poetry.
L— and I stormed Deseret Industries this afternoon, where she found that the women's clothing is more fitting than the children's, and I rediscovered my love for discarded men's t-shirts.
M— is preparing to leave for Japan in two weeks. E— is in SLC preparing via text for his mother to drive him halfway to Idaho this weekend. I should man up and drive all the way; it's been some time since I visited my friends in the North Country. But then there is the issue of my mother, which does not ameliorate. She seems to be fine not speaking to me if it means she doesn't have to accept that she is human and no more in possession of all truth and knowledge than I. I am wondering how I will manage 10 days of silence once M— boards her flight.
B— went to his first Cub Scout activity, a day camp, this morning. I am feeling my age rattle the air around me. He did well. Isn't that just what I'd hoped as he hugged me repeatedly before the den leader's van door closed and he drove away with the "normal" little boys? He's told me lately, that when his brother and sisters have moved out he hopes I'll buy a motorhome. We can live together in that. I love the idea, but the healthy mother in me hopes he'll lose interest by the time it's just the two of us. Or at least I try to want to hope for that.