July flies by

I stared at my computer screen for the longest time this morning, searching for an answer, but still simply lost.

July 29.

That's the date that popped up on my Outlook calendar when I booted up. My old-school paper calendar, dangling off a crooked nail, confirmed it: yep, it's July 29.

Still, I was overwhelmed with confusion and denial. How could it actually be July 29th already?

This month has flown by.

It's been such a great July; I've really loved it. Yes, love ... even though it was in the summer.

I've made it pretty clear in the past that I am not a summer girl; I'm an autumn girl. Yet, this past month has been a delight, right up there with the best of Septembers. Even though I spent most of it sick. Even though it rained too much. Even though it was swamp-level humid. Even though my hair was shaggy and unruly.

Even with all that, it was full of good stuff.

We started the month with a beach vacation in Michigan, my favorite vacation destination.

27 years and counting ...

And then we celebrated the Fourth at home.

The garden gave.

Not to brag, but I'm pretty good at growing cukes. Just sayin' ...

The days were long and ended in glorious swirls of melted crayons.

We played games and feasted like kings on fried chicken and donated desserts at our church picnic.

We had some Christmas in July treats here at home, plus a double feature of Elf and Christmas Vacation.

Choc-dipped pretzels, fudge and mint choc chip cookies.

And school started today.

Maybe - just maybe - summer is finally winning me over.

Actually, that's not it.

It's so humid right now, when I step outside it feels like I just dressed myself in a warm, wet wool sweater that's been soaked in a sticky, flat Pepsi and locked in a plastic storage tote that's been stored in the hellish, fiery sun.

So, um, no. It's definitely not a love affair between summer and me.

But July 2015 ... it's been one heck of a fling.

Detours

I've been away from this space for a long time.

Too long.

That blur is morning dew streaking down my dirty windshield ... or is it a tear?

People - some I don't even actually know - have asked if I'm still doing the blog.

Yes.

Kinda.

But, yes.

The actual living of life sometimes gets in the way of writing about living life.

Since early spring, I've had to do, do, do -  this project, this deadline, this priority, this issue, this thing - and little time to write about the doing. I'm not one of those bloggers whose job it is to blog. I have a full-time paying gig that has nothing at all to do with this space and that, along with the rest of my life, has been the focus of my efforts and attention.

But I like it here and I'm glad to be back. Thanks for joining me. And thanks for missing me. I missed you, too.

Actually, I'm glad to be anywhere these days. It seems as though I've spent a lot of time trying to get places, but I keep hitting detours. Literally.

Sometimes, it's all I see.

My already-cumbersome daily commute has gotten a lot more tedious and, well, at times, crappy, as of the last few months. They are building a bridge and reworking all the roads around it, including the ones I take every day. And they're fixing an overpass bridge near my home. And closing part of the road I live on to lop off a couple of hills and widen the road.

All at once. All this summer. All the time.

A new interstate bridge rising out of the Ohio River and stretching toward shore to take its place alongside its established kin.

That's how they make a living - building and fixing things while the days are long. It's hard work and it's dangerous. I totally get that and respect it.

I am, after all, a lover of paved roads.

I am not, however, a lover of how my complexion looks in the soft glow of brake lights.

So for me, getting from Point A to Point B so I can make a living has often been a painful point in the day.

But when you really, really like where you work and love where you live, well, you make concessions. It's temporary, even though it feels like it's going to last forever.

Especially when your bladder is full and the gas tank is near empty.

Little orange bastard.

Still, it's ok.

Besides, life's like that. Sometimes, we speed along, zooming from one destination to another. Sometimes, we can just cruise by. Sometimes, we have to slow down.

Sometimes, we come to hard brake; a jarring stop.

Sometimes, we run on empty.

... and seriously need to wipe down the dashboard ...

Sometimes, we have to take an unplanned detour.

The important thing is to get back on course.

Because the road ahead - however winding or twisted - ultimately leads us home.

* Please note: most photos were taken through a dirty car windshield while at a complete stop, usually with the car in park. So, don't be a dumbass who takes pics while driving.

Date day

Our son left last week to spend 10 days in Florida on vacation with another family.

So that means his longest - and probably best ever - family vacation will be spent with another family.

<sigh>

That also means that his little family back here in Indiana has gone from three to just a pair. Granted, this is how the whole thing got started - mommy and daddy love each other very much and got married and then there was a baby - but it hasn't been just mommy and daddy alone in the house for an extended period of time for more than 15 years.

I'm not a huge fan of this arrangement, but it is my future: we aren't raising our child in order to keep him with us forever; we expect he will leave us at some point. College lurks in the visible future. Then it will be just my husband and me again.

But we're not there yet.

In light of the kid's absence, my husband suggested we get away for the weekend. Really, just an over-nighter somewhere. Just the two of us. He works every other weekend, and even though he was scheduled to work this past weekend, he offered to take the time off so we could be together.

My response? "Eh ... nah."

Please understand: I like my husband. A lot. He's the best. And I like to spend time with him. After 26 years together as a couple, we still dig each other very much. It's just that I got real practical about it all and said, "Save the time off for another occasion. School fees are coming up, so let's save the money. We can just do something another time."

We're parents. We don't "get" - get time to ourselves, get to do what we want, get to have non-family fun. We give - give our time, give our attention, give our resources.

As he so often does, my husband ignored me ... and took the time off anyway.

When  my boss asked me how I was doing with my son away, I mentioned my husband's gesture with a pinch of disdain for his stubbornness.

"Lorri, if a man wants to plan a romantic get-away, go," she said. "You will never remember the weekend you just stayed home, but you will always remember the weekend you got away."

Okay, that got me.

In the spirit of compromise and cost saving, we agreed to get away, but just for the day and come back home that evening.

I'm so very glad we did.

We spent the day in Bardstown, Ky., just about an hour or so from our home. It is a lovely small town, named The Most Beautiful Small Town in America in 2012, and has been recognized as having one of the most beautiful town squares. Here's more about Bardstown, including its rich history.

We dined at a cool old tavern, the Old Talbot Tavern, admiring the stonework, rough floors and beams as much as the fried catfish and sweet potato fries.

We giggled and flirted.

We held hands as we walked along the old downtown pavers.

We shopped. He indulged me in purchases without the usual mentions of budget, space, or need.

I bought gloves. In July.

We took our time. Not once did we worry about being somewhere else.

We lingered under the cooling shade of a garden arbor at a park on a hot day.

He kissed my hand. I leaned into his arm.

We spent the rest of our evening at home, cuddled up on the couch with a pizza and cold beer. We watched chick-flicks and stayed up late.

Gosh, it was such a nice date.

My boss was right: I will remember the get-away. I will remember feeling special and pretty and loved. I will remember that it's okay to indulge in something just for us as a couple. Yes, parenting involves a lot of sacrifice, but that doesn't mean we should sacrifice the fundamental relationship that made us parents in the first place.

I needed to let go: not just of my growing child, but also of my habit of selflessness.

Because every now and again, a girl just needs a date day away with her best fella.

Distracted drivers

Got into the car this afternoon to head home from the office. Running through the usual pre-commute checklist:

• Seatbelt ... check. 
• Plenty of gas in car ... check. 
• Bladder empty in case there's traffic ... check. 
• Vampire Weekend in CD player ... check. 
• Adjust rearview mirror ... check. 
• Notice dead gnat on lip in reflection of said mirror ... gah! ... check. 

I wonder how long that was there.

Damn you, sticky lip gloss.

The only thing from Victoria's Secret that I can wear also kills bugs.

Hey, at least I discovered the ick on my lip before I hit the road. That would have been a major distraction for this driver and possible hazard for everybody else trying to make it home safely as I scrambled to dig out tissues from the center console to carefully wipe the dead insect off my mouth without smashing it in.

<cringe all over again>

And then wiped my mouth with hand sanitizer that was located a seemingly longer-than-usual stretch across the seat in the glovebox. I got caught by the snap of the seatbelt and hung there for a second before releasing the seatbelt and diving for the glovebox. Pretty sure that second of hang time allowed the dead gnat gut remnants to be effectively absorbed by my body.

Pretty sure.

Side note: hand sanitizer is not intended for your mouth.

<cringe again>

I took care of this unsavory business while the car was still in park. Too often, however, I see other drivers zooming along the roadways living life as though they weren't actually wielding a 3,500-pound death machine. They are distracted: eating, digging in a purse, reading, fidgeting with the radio, gabbing on the cell, reaching front seat to backseat to referee kids, holding a dog, speeding, shaving, applying lipstick, etc.

For example, I saw Miss Lady texting and driving in the lane next to me yesterday morning. On the Interstate. Doing 70+ mph. Next to me. Pretty sure she didn't see me.

And that's scary.

She was immersed in a text-versation, swerving and glancing up briefly, then back to tapping, swerving, glancing. It was obvious what she was doing, so I passed her - using my signal, checking my blindspot, neither honking nor flipping her off as I passed.

Sometimes I am too classy for my own good.

And then there's The Guy - the one with his finger jammed up his nose - who came to a screeching halt at the stoplight.

He's just another distracted dumbass. With a nosebleed.

Don't pick and drive.

I drive 60 miles a day round trip just to work and back, plus all the other hauling of kids, pets, groceries and life that I do outside of the daily work commute. I see a lot of stuff going on while on the road: rage, rudeness, hazards, road kill. I have sat for countless hours in traffic snarls, irritated for the delay and thankful I am not the cause of it.

I also wave to friends as we travel the same roads. I stop behind the school bus as it collects excited little ones in backpacks and then kicks up fallen leaves on the road in front of me as it saunters on toward school. I watch the seasons change like scenes from a movie from one of the best seats in the house.

I do a lot of singing and play steering wheel drums. I try to make the most of my commute time; my alone time. I give myself a pep talk, decompress, plan, daydream, pray, cry. And yet I also try to stay focused and drive safely for the sake of my family and me.

And for you, too ... 

... just in case you are in the lane next to me.