I should know better then to start my Friday night with this sentence: "Yes, I'll come out but just for one drink. I'm tired."
Um yeah. I was out till three am on Friday night and I had a great time. I'd had a shitty week, so drinking wine, making fun of people at the karaoke bar and a late night slider dining experience at Comet Burger, was just what I needed.
Till Saturday morning when I quickly realized that while I wasn't throwing up, my stomach ache was going to prevent me from a productive trip to the Farmers Market.
I rallied in time to go see Crazy Heart with my friend Jon. The movie that Jeff Bridges just won a Golden Globe for. I highly recommend it. A few parts hit a little close to home, but it's better than watching some shit ass romantic comedy. Where I can't relate at all, because really. Who is that stupid?
Saturday night, my Godmother Smoz and I met for dinner in Royal Oak and we had an awesome time. Awesome in the way that we connected and she helped me work through some grief. She lost a daughter a few years ago, and once you go through something like, you just "get each other" on a whole other level. Plus, she's funny and very comforting.
Sunday, after coffee and couch lounging, I did a few errands before heading out to meet Karlene for lunch. She is one of my oldest friends and is always good for whatever my mood may be. And we laughed a lot about stupid stuff, which I needed.
I then headed home, as I had drink plans with my friends at the Black Lotus. More laughter, beer and insanity ensued. And I feel lucky every time I see my fellow grief survivors. We are slowly healing. Sometimes, when it feels like I'm going eight steps in the wrong direction, I know they will help me see that life can be fun. And joyful.
And sad. And all of it is ok with them.
Yesterday after a long restless insomnia filled night, once I was sleeping I took advantage of my day off and slept in, until 10 a.m.
Then I headed over to Connie's to celebrate Harrison's 3rd birthday. A whole afternoon of monster trucks, puzzles, and cupcakes. Harrison is the closest thing I have to a nephew.
He was once so happy to see me that when I came in the front door, He yelled: "Aunt Kelly!" And then did a somersault for me.
Pretty good weekend, all things considered. And only a few crying break downs.