I haven't written since Wednesday; one would think my mental note pad would be full of things I needed to say, but this was not the case. I had considered wrapping up the last few days in a Rosh Hashanah post game show, but somehow I chose the path of righteousness and decided that the funny parts are better left unsaid and the spiritual parts are less interesting. I'll offer instead a few of my personal highlights and leave it at that for now; 2 dinners and 1 dessert with family and friends that I did not have to cook or clean, out the door for temple without a single fight ("temple tension" as it is named, covers all arguments preceding a synagogue visit, including: locating child's suit, where did you put the tickets, do I look fat in this dress?) , "bleacher seats" for the first half of the service and a move to the soft ones for the finish, a prayer whose name escapes me sung by a 19-year old congregant that brought me to tears (as it did last year), the 80+ year old man who has blown the shofar for as long as I remember, with the same red socks and the same powerful blast, and the feeling of belonging and community that brings me back year after year.
And so for an unusual change of pace,I was stumped; what would be interesting enough to warrant 1400 or more words? I opened my eyes, and like a message from the blog universe, it flashed before me, 9:47. Unlike my college children, and a select few grown ups I know, sleeping late is not a luxury I enjoy very often. In fact, I cannot remember the last time I spent this much uninterrupted time with my pillow. I clarify the continuity of the time period because staying in bed until 9:47 is not the same thing as sleeping until 9:47. There have unfortunately been many weekend mornings of extended bed hours which have followed torturous nights of waking every hour for a variety of reasons. In that case, late sleeping is really an attempt to recapture what was lost the night before, and it never really does. An evening spent listening to Jeffrey's nasal passage assault on the "sounds of silence," can never be repaired from a few lazy morning hours. There have also been a few "tossers and turners" from my own bad choices of too much food or too much alcohol, too close to bedtime, and there's always the wake up and "where's my child" night, followed by pacing and angry texting.
There are also the days I try and force the issue, waking up multiple times that I deem too early to rise and squeeze my eyes shut or put a pillow over my head in an attempt to block out the sounds and sunlight of morning. It almost never works and sometimes a doze here and there actually makes me feel worse. The "limbo sleep" is the worst of all, half-dreamy and half-awake, and often no clue which is which. I'm lying there, quite sure I am having a conversation or hearing the phone ring and suddenly I'm startled awake to realize what felt so real, did not really happen. I take a few minutes to sort out fact and fiction, attempting to find clues to confirm or deny the action, and start my day more than a little confused and still tired. In fact, just last week in Arizona where I spent most of the mornings fighting the effects of the time change and woke at 5 am daily, each time attempting varied tactics to return to dreamland. One particular day when I succeeded in add-on sleep (hotels have excellent black-out curtains), I jumped up an hour or so later absolutely sure that someone was attempting entry through the connecting door in my room ( just to clarify, I did not know,nor did I want to know, who was behind the mystery door). I was also fairly convinced that I had attempted to dial the front desk for assistance, but could not complete the call. I sat in the bed, waiting to hear the noise that had so frightened me, with one hand on the room phone and the other on my cell to alert Jeffrey I was in danger (I'm not sure what he was going to do from across the country, but I thought he would want to know). Nothing happened; I bravely stood by the offending door and heard nothing, the lock was still secure and I was safe in my room. I concluded that I had dreamed the whole thing, but it could not have felt more real, heart racing and sweaty to prove it. Very rarely a late sleep is the result of a late night; crawling in bed at 2 or 3 am (that's the part the happens so infrequently) and dozing till 10 is also not really a late sleep. Same overall hours as a regular night, merely a shift in the schedule. In addition, that kind of night usually involves too much of all the bad things, which generally results in a less than peaceful repose and a far from refreshed morning attitude. If we both decide to stay in bed .... skip that, "TMI" edit.
Last night's sleep was a category all it's own, those 9 hours and 47 minutes were pure restfulness. We had a great non-brisket dinner out with old friends who I have happily gotten to know so much better in the last year. Jeffrey had a long and stressful workday and needed more than one cocktail to lower his blood pressure, and I of course had the high intensity day of closet cleaning. We each chose our own poison, Jeffrey went straight for the Tanqueray martini (multiples) and I enjoyed the transition from an excellent mojito to a full-bodied red wine. Combine the liquid therapy with great food and atmosphere (Trumbull Kitchen, if you're nearby), easy conversation and lots of laughs and I wouldn't change a thing. I was so relaxed I skipped the coffee, didn't want to spoil the buzz (wasn't even taking a risk with decaf). A totally last minute plan, the perfect antidote to holiday food and fanfare, and apparently the exact combination needed for a winning nights sleep.
The only down side to my restfulness would be that it is now 12:14 pm and I am still drinking coffee at the island and blogging happily on my iPad(which began at 9:52 am in my bed). I have not yet motivated back upstairs to begin my day, which will require movement outside the house. I have a wedding at 5:30, a cousin and his family that I haven't seen in far too long, can't wait (with any luck you will get a colorful blog tomorrow). Between now and then I will have to get a pedicure, make sure Andrew has food for dinner, shower and dress, question my choices, dress again, go back to the first choice and be ready when I get picked up at 4:45. Did I mention that Jeffrey is "reffing," gone already for the day; all tasks including my wardrobe (already selected his which accompanied him to the locker room) will be completed without his help and he will meet me at the ceremony, hopefully on time. At the moment I am feeling well capable of handling the obstacles of the day, even with the limited hours available. If I play my cards right, I'm thinking I could actually have a repeat performance tomorrow morning, maybe I could even shoot for after 10? Then again, the event ahead involves an open bar, cousins who know how to party, a guest list that should be more than interesting (explanation later) and I am already in a good mood. This could be setting the stage for a night of "overdoing," a sleep of regret, and a long day of advil and black coffee. Either way, for now I am rested and ready for whichever path awaits.
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