(no subject)
Mar. 24th, 2007 01:39 amThings have been good this week. Quiet good. Which, after the past month and a half or so of "OMG, I have *no* time to get anything done" *flails*, is rather odd.
But I think I need a manual switch for my anxiety. Last Friday was the last day of the good-but-kind-of-anxious-over-getting-everything-done-in-time busy, I had a very relaxing day on Saturday. Then Sunday I ran a light as it turned red in an intersection where there's cameras (at least, that's what I'm assuming they are) and I was immediately going through, "OMG, I'm going to get a ticket or something for that!" *flails*. (Haven't gotten anything yet, by the way. :-P)
Last Friday, I went and saw 300. Yes, I went in the sleet storm. It was one of those things where I was like, "I realize that this isn't the smartest decision with the weather, but there's no way I'd be able to sit around the house tonight."
Now, I had told my dad a few times I was going out prior to Friday, and even once during a phone call that day. I got a phone call from him right after work (as I was on my way down to the theatre) asking where I was and what I was doing. When I told him I was out, he told me to stay around Newark and not go too far. Where did he think I was going? Jibip? And then he called me twice more while I was actually in the movie (which is only two hours long) to see where I was. When I called him back afterwards, he asked again where I was and all, and seemed relieved when I told him that I was on my way home. And you know what? He was out at the Deerpark!
( And what I thought of the movie. )
Then on Saturday, my dad and I went to see Wild Hogs. We both had a lot of fun with it and my dad enjoyed it *immensely*. Afterwards, he was like, "I think some people were giving me weird looks for laughing too hard."
Then we went down to the Deerpark, because my dad figured that we *had* to go out for a drink, since it was St. Patrick's Day. We managed to hit a lull in the crowd, so it wasn't too bad. And it ended up being one drink for me and two for him. (I tend to drink slowly.) And as we were walking out to my truck afterwards , my dad kept asking if I'd be okay to drive and I told him, "Dad, I had *one* baybreeze to your two beers, plus however many you had over at [neighbor]'s house before we left for the movie. I'll be fine." (And he had also seemed surprised when we were leaving for the movie and he said that we were taking my truck that I was like, "Okay, I'm driving.")
He's been away most of the week with family in Las Vegas. And my brother's been who knows where when he's not at work, so I've basically had the house to myself. It's been pretty nice.
Sunday we're having a get-together with some family and friends for my granddad's 80th birthday. (Which I can't believe.) When I grow up, I want to be like him. Aside from being really cool (he's the only one in the family that hasn't said anything negative about my weight and has actually been straight-forward in his praise), he's still really active - he walks about a mile or so every day and last summer, he, my grammy (who'll be 80 in September), and my dad took a two week camping trip with their camper and drove out through Branson, MO, St Louis, and Nashville.
But I think I need a manual switch for my anxiety. Last Friday was the last day of the good-but-kind-of-anxious-over-getting-everything-done-in-time busy, I had a very relaxing day on Saturday. Then Sunday I ran a light as it turned red in an intersection where there's cameras (at least, that's what I'm assuming they are) and I was immediately going through, "OMG, I'm going to get a ticket or something for that!" *flails*. (Haven't gotten anything yet, by the way. :-P)
Last Friday, I went and saw 300. Yes, I went in the sleet storm. It was one of those things where I was like, "I realize that this isn't the smartest decision with the weather, but there's no way I'd be able to sit around the house tonight."
Now, I had told my dad a few times I was going out prior to Friday, and even once during a phone call that day. I got a phone call from him right after work (as I was on my way down to the theatre) asking where I was and what I was doing. When I told him I was out, he told me to stay around Newark and not go too far. Where did he think I was going? Jibip? And then he called me twice more while I was actually in the movie (which is only two hours long) to see where I was. When I called him back afterwards, he asked again where I was and all, and seemed relieved when I told him that I was on my way home. And you know what? He was out at the Deerpark!
( And what I thought of the movie. )
Then on Saturday, my dad and I went to see Wild Hogs. We both had a lot of fun with it and my dad enjoyed it *immensely*. Afterwards, he was like, "I think some people were giving me weird looks for laughing too hard."
Then we went down to the Deerpark, because my dad figured that we *had* to go out for a drink, since it was St. Patrick's Day. We managed to hit a lull in the crowd, so it wasn't too bad. And it ended up being one drink for me and two for him. (I tend to drink slowly.) And as we were walking out to my truck afterwards , my dad kept asking if I'd be okay to drive and I told him, "Dad, I had *one* baybreeze to your two beers, plus however many you had over at [neighbor]'s house before we left for the movie. I'll be fine." (And he had also seemed surprised when we were leaving for the movie and he said that we were taking my truck that I was like, "Okay, I'm driving.")
He's been away most of the week with family in Las Vegas. And my brother's been who knows where when he's not at work, so I've basically had the house to myself. It's been pretty nice.
Sunday we're having a get-together with some family and friends for my granddad's 80th birthday. (Which I can't believe.) When I grow up, I want to be like him. Aside from being really cool (he's the only one in the family that hasn't said anything negative about my weight and has actually been straight-forward in his praise), he's still really active - he walks about a mile or so every day and last summer, he, my grammy (who'll be 80 in September), and my dad took a two week camping trip with their camper and drove out through Branson, MO, St Louis, and Nashville.