I drank too much wine on vacation. Like, a lot of wine. Like every morning at the beach when it was time to roll over to make sure my tan was even, I would check my phone to see if it was appropriate wine time yet. And it was almost always was. It was not the time to deny myself, I had a very long morning of swimming. I deserved it.
I also ate too much; indulged in risotto and lobster rolls. French fries became their own food group- well supported, I might add, by my child.
And worried too much. Though we were far away and the sounds of the water lapping on the beach carried in through my window at night and it smelled like pine and the whole sky was full of stars and I had no agenda or timeline of any sort, there was some shit going on at home that consumed my brain and I worried.
Fast forward to now. My kid’s going to preschool next week. PRE. SCHOOL. That thing that comes before actual school. That comes before short skirts and lies by omission and shady boyfriends with fuzzy mustaches. We are both getting older. It looks better on her.
I am going back to work. Back to NYC. Back to the village and TRI-Burbia and Brooklyn.
And there’s other stuff. Like-WOAH-stuff. Like we need to have time to focus on this stuff.
So, beginning September 1, I’ll be participating in a fasting, of sorts. I’ll still pound on the keyboard at this fine little space, but I’m bowing out of the Facebook and the Insta-whatever crowd. I know, I know. What are you going to do without first day of school pictures of my darling? How will you survive without seeing what I’m growing in my garden or having for lunch? (SALAD- I am only allowed SALAD for the next FOUR months.) I’m going to drink more water, lay off the vino, try to cry less and stay far away from a fryer.
I need to step back and listen to Jesus and breath deep.
I need to listen and remember what it feels like to have a quiet soul and eat kale like my life depended on it.
I need to care for my whole self and stop neglecting the upkeep- all of it.
No more wine.
Unless it’s a Sancerre.
On the weekends.
And then, no more than one glass.
Well, two on Saturdays.
I’ll work it out.