Friday seemed like a release party after 6 weeks of CWP-Fairfield work. Yes, the incredible writers will still hand in their pieces, but yesterday I took the day off. I needed to get my Covid-19 test in the morning (all part of the pre-operation procedures) which happened to be near Costco, so we could do a beach liquor run, and also near Big Y's so we could get food for the beach.
By 11 a.m., we were loading up the wagon and kayak, and by 11:30 we were on the water. High tide was at 10 a.m., so we got several good hours of margaritas, sun, conversation, and kayaking. I never realized that it'd be possible to get two people into the kayak, but Nikki and Cynde managed to do it. In fact, almost all people at the beach were rooting them on, saying, "Those two are having so much fun."
I laughed, because while I was out on the kayak looking inland, combing the sight of all beach goers, here were two glow-in-the-dark, white Goth girls in black swimsuits looking like Wednesday Adams from the water (two of these girls were doing their own thing) and when I returned I said, "you both look like you're going to a funeral. Everybody else is dressed for a Carnival and are in black suits. Who died?"
And me? I played my last softball game for the season (perhaps ever). I shouldn't have, but they were in need of another male player, so I stepped up once again at first base. I'm too competitive for my own good and hate playing teams that are douchebags. C'est la vie. Last play of a game....grounder to me at first, a bad hop, ball in my jaw, bobble, and then a dive to the base for the out at the last second.
I know the Isgar-stay is short lived, and now I have to think about being lame for a few weeks I'm the world's worst patient, and sitting still is nearly impossible for me. Not looking forward to it one bit.
Happy Saturday. We got this.
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