The Art in Life

It has been over ninety degrees for the past three days, but I still feel like the days after Labor day mark The Beginning of The End of summer. August Recess ended yesterday, the first week of classes is over, and in theory I might sometime soon stop sweating through all my clothes as I commute. Bachelor in Paradise ushered in the very end of summer’s wild freedom, and in regards to the entire season, we must all repeat Jacyln’s sage comment: “I don’t know if I’m winning, or losing.”  This week, it is back to buckling down on that little ole dissertation, back to getting up at a more respectable hour, back to launching another whole30 – though more like “mostly whole/maybe 30,” as I am already planning a couple cheat weekends.

We packed in a lot to our last true summer weekend, so much so, that I only have those couple pictures at the top to show for it. Friday night we headed to Charlottesville to celebrate my big brother’s engagement. Sampling wedding caterers is my new favorite dinner party format. Saturday was packed with a photoshoot of my current favorite engaged couple (coming soon! As if you were actually worried that I might withhold an onslaught of photos!), lunch with one of our favorite friends who moved to Charlottesville last summer. We squeezed in a quick winery visit, an amazing dinner at Lampo, and an engagement party that evening before driving back late to DC. After church on Sunday, James and I indulged in two of the crowning achievements of western culture: Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and Shake Shack’s cheesy fries. The bard would be proud. It was the Free for All series, and when they had everyone for whom this was their first ever Shakespeare performance raise their hands- I might have cried. If you are in DC, do whatever it takes (lottery or line) to get free tickets before it closes Sunday. On Monday, I dragged James through all the good Labor Day sales to find him a new suit, lying him with promises of Chick-Fil-A if he braved the mall. All in all, this weekend was one where we spent just enough time doing fun things to feel happy, and enough time doing productive things to feel ready for the week.

Monday night as we were falling asleep, we talked about our favorite memories of this, our favorite month. I know this sounds ridiculous, but I feel like this month has us really feeling like us, like how we felt before the stress of last fall, before he lived on the other side of the country for 6 months. I don’t think that I realized it last spring, but we still hadn’t found our groove again, even though we were thrilled to be back together. Sometimes even a relatively brief interruption in the comfortable rhythms of marriage can cause ripples for long after the interruption itself is over. Coming home from our European adventure together, having this month to take a little more time in the evenings and weekends to explore this city, doing the DC summer things we missed last year, making plans for our future — all these things were the final elements in restoring to stability all that last year roughed up.

So September, Fall, Dissertation, Semester — bring it. We’re ready.

PS: But maybe let me get in like three more trips to the pool first. Thanks.

Photos from breakfast at a little taco join in Charlottesville and my engagement shoot with Zach and Liz.

Though I am sad to see summer break go, nothing compares to my total grief that August Recess ends next Tuesday. While every August Recess is wonderful, this one has been especially perfect, as we have recessed… aggressively. We made a list of all the relaxing and fun summer things we wanted to do during this month where James’ hours are a little bit more predictable and we have been blazing through it. We didn’t want to let this month slip by without us paying attention. And in general, we don’t want to let life in DC slip by without us soaking in every last thing that this city has to offer.

We really wanted to make it to some of the museums that we love around this city, and I have been itching to check out the indoor beach exhibit all summer. Massive ball pit? YES PLEASE. Beach without sand of sunscreen? YES PLEASE TIMES FIFTY. When I found out that the National Building Museum hosts a special free pre-opening morning visit for each DC ward, I made sure to mark my calendar, and we enjoyed a quick trip to the beach before work yesterday.

Only downside of an indoor beach? It can do nothing to help my wicked ballet flat tanlines that have stuck with me since France. It might not appear that way, but those balls are really, really, hard to swim in. Like, at one point I thought I might drown and James had to haul me out.  The best way to tackle the “waves” was in a float, and I considered stealing one from some of the super on-top-of-it moms there with troops of kids. I was also just a tad scared that you could genuinely lose a small child FOREVER in those pits, not to mention your cell phone, keys, wallet, etc. If the Washingtonian doesn’t have an article about all the things found when they take down the ball pit, I will be severely disappointed. THE STRUGGLE IS REAL. But it is also kind of awesome.  Like being perfectly suspended in the world’s best mattress… that might also suffocate you. Selfie attempt with the big camera, without drowning mid-shot… ….failure.  ….Success!

And just in case you were wondering, is this sanitary? How many children peed in there? Aren’t those balls covered in germs? THIS IS NOT CLEAN!Just know, James was right there with you in all those thoughts. I might have had to use all my persuasive powers to get him to jump in. And he hit that Purell afterwards like his life depended on it. Thank you husband, for balancing out my utter disbelief in the existence of germs.  What’s that you say? You wish you had a video? DONE.

You wanted one that really emphasized how the balls rise up to engulf you?

I live to please.

Sometime back in the spring, we got talking about bottomless brunch at Ambar with a group of friends. You remember the one– it’s the one that undid an entire weekend of plans with its siren song of bottomless mimosas and endless waffles. We sat around discussing it and then we said what everyone of our generation always says:

“We should do that sometime.”

When we say that, we aren’t really intending to do it, we aren’t setting concrete plans, we aren’t moving closer to that esteemed quality of reliable commitment — we are just blandly making plans that we never intend to keep.

Fortunately for us, we have a friend in our group who keeps all commitments, and who instantly pulled out his phone and suggested we pick a date, something that thoroughly shocked our millennial sensibilities. But select we did, and we all started talking through the soonest that the group of us could get together…

…which turned out to be last weekend. That’s right, when we set about making plans in late April, the first date that worked was mid-August. We are hoping to do a repeat outing sometime around Valentine’s day.

This post is intended neither as an ode to busyness, nor a critique of the same. Everyone I know is busy, which is strange, since we all seem to think that our own brand of busyness entitles us to special privileges or at least the right to whine. But busyness isn’t inherently bad either, as filling your time and life with good things is a good thing. The fact that we had to plan four months ahead for a brunch date is a testament to family that visits, friends who wed, work that lets us travel, etc.

But as we were devouring endless plates of brunch food, I kept on thinking that this meal only happened because we actually did it, actually moved past talk to action.

Don’t get me wrong- I am the problem. You are probably the problem. We are all the problem. Maybe some of you actually only make commitments you are going to keep, only plan things you can attend, never double (triple?) book yourself, but probably not. I do it all too frequently. And I never really thought about it until James was gone for those six months last year and I didn’t have a Person, didn’t have someone to make sure that I wasn’t alone at things, didn’t have a guaranteed guest at events I organized. I became really sensitive about people flaking out on me, and started dreading the pre-flake phrases, like “maybe we will stop by,” or “we’re trying to shuffle some things around,” or “give me a call if you end up doing something and maybe I’ll come.” I realized that what I wanted was to be worthy of scheduling, worthy of being the thing that didn’t get shuffled. When people missed things, it hurt the way it hadn’t hurt before, back when I was selfishly cocooned in marriage togetherness.

I have tried (though not always succeeded) to take that lesson forward. I’m aware of the people in my life who are exceptionally good at keeping commitments and how much that means to me. I want to set dates for the things that “we should do sometime,” and then  actually do them. I want to honor the people that I love with my calendar, my presence, my commitment.

Because when you do that, it means deeply invested friendships. It means bottomless brunch for four hours with good friends. It means less of stretching ourselves thin and more of growing roots deep.

I’ll eat four plates of waffles to that.