SERVICE NOTICE . . .

I've been out of commission since Friday night, felled by a pernicious cold that I've been fighting since about mid-March. In that time, I made it through four weekend getaways, two bridal showers, two wedding rehearsals, four weddings, two baseball games, two concerts, two cooking classes, two barbecues, thirteen dinner outings, and three-and-a-half weeks of home renovation. Finally, I hit a wall. There was no major social event meriting perfect health, no adrenaline push to keep the germs at bay. So, I succumbed. That was probably a good thing. For any given point in my life -- from the truly memorable to the utterly mundane -- I can easily look back and see God's hand directing me. This time, He was telling me to CHILL OUT. And I did (I was too tired to disobey). Aside from some nominal running-around on Saturday, my weekend was easy-as-pie. AND I stayed home from work yesterday, which gave me plenty of time to think about some new things that I discovered about myself over the weekend:

1. I LOVE STEAK: and if you do too, you should go to Peter Luger as soon as possible. It's about as no-nonsense a meal as one can get, and if you take me, Soy and AW, we will duly impress you with our ability to put away steak for four, german potatoes, tomato-and-onions, and creamed spinach. AND still have room for dessert and coffee. AND not fall completely asleep in the car on the way home. AND wake up in the morning craving a hamburger.

2. I LOVE BENADRYL: and if you don't, you don't know what you're missing. After a ceaselessly drippy Saturday afternoon and early evening, I finally made the desperate run into the local CVS for a box of the little pink pills. The last time I took Benadryl was in the 7th grade for an allergic reaction to fake crabmeat. I don't remember much about that experience because, well, it knocked me out and I must have slept for days. This time, I remember everything and it was wonderful. I don't have first-hand experience with recreational drugs, but I imagine the feeling from two Benadryl tablets is akin to being high on something. Sitting in the bowling alley on Saturday "Rock n' Bowl" night with nine loud, enthusiastic friends -- their voices and cheers bouncing off the walls of my brain, echoing . . . listening to the music -- so loud, so pulsing . . . bumping into the bowling-ball return tray when it was my turn -- no pain, no pain . . . watching the rotating disco colors and shapes reflecting off the lanes -- so pretty. . .

3. I LOVE BOWLING: and if you do too, you should come with us next time. Perhaps my experience was enhanced by the Benadryl (see above), but I'm pretty sure I enjoyed myself validly. It helps when you take Terry Cloth -- he of the Tai-Chi school of bowling ("silence, please!"); or Soy -- she of the weird-lefty-grip-and-finish-with-a-flourish school of bowling; or Banana -- she of the I'm-gonna-kick-your-ass school of bowling; or Jaime -- he of the I'm-just-as-much-a-spazz-bowling-as-I-am-anywhere-else school of bowling; or JKo -- she of the how-slow-can-the-ball-possibly-go school of bowling. We were such a motley group of bowlers and pseudo-bowlers, one couldn't help but have a good time. Also, I did not get hit in the head with a bowling ball, so perhaps we're making progress here.

4. I LOVE SCARY MOVIES: but if you don't, I completely understand. It usually takes me no less than a week to prepare myself to watch a scary movie. It doesn't matter if it's paranormally scary, suspenseful, psycho-thrillerish, horrific or mind-bending -- I need to prep. But once I'm in the theatre and the lights are going down and it's clear that I can't escape without losing ten dollars, the thrill sets in. I sit up straighter in my seat (at least until the first scary scene flits across the screen, and then I hunch down as low as I can go so the scary element can't see me), tense up every muscle imaginable, and poise my hands near my face so I can quickly cover my eyes if necessary. If it's really scary or traumatic, I will start to cry just a little bit. I don't know why I subject myself to such a seemingly unpleasant thrill, but I suppose it's better than . . . extreme skateboarding?

Saw: 28 Days Later
Finishing: John Adams, by David McCullough
In the batter's box: Benjamin Franklin, by Walter Isaacson
Running through my head: Amazing love, how can it be, that You my King would die for me...