I’m not entirely sure what to write here lately. I hope you don’t mind. We just tiptoed into July and already I think the summer is a third of the way over. I keep wishing it away. Pumpkin said to me the other night that she couldn’t wait for school to start, and you know, I kind of look forward to it also. Summer has a different flavor now that I’m in an office every day. While I struggled hard to find balance when I worked from home, struggled to be an excellent mom as well as a reliable employee, I still was present for their daily activities. Now I regret whining about the balance and lack of it – because I miss that daily stuff sometimes.
The temperatures are scorching these days and I’m grateful for when the mornings and evenings provide a respite from the heat. That feeling when you can get outside and breathe in and out, and it’s not like you’re passing through air as thick as pudding. Pudding air. It’s a thing. An awful thing.
I’ve gotten to, this summer, spend time with friends a lot more than I have in the past – and it’s partly a concerted effort to reconnect with people and friendships and an effort to add some fun to my days. For a lot of years, I put friendships on the back burner – and I’m sorry I did. While I don’t think I ever forgot how much I love to laugh and have fun, I think for awhile I downplayed just how much it renews me. I’m an introvert, so I focused instead on finding time to myself to recharge and rejuvenate that way – but… I like people. I love sitting down at a table with friends, drinking coffee and exchanging bits and pieces of life.
When I was in college I had those moments all the time. I remember one night sitting outside talking to someone from midnight until five a.m. It’s hardly realistic now, those conversations in a dorm entry way (anyone have a dorm entryway I can borrow?), those marathon gab fests until all hours of the night.
But I don’t need a marathon anymore.
I had forgotten, though, because I let myself forget.
I baked a cake yesterday, a lemon pound cake. One I’ve made and blogged of before. All I wanted was a tiny piece of it – the tang of the sugary glaze and the soft spongy cake melting on my tongue. So I baked. I squeezed lemons and combined eggs and butter and sugar (oh so much sugar!) and measured and mixed and poured and baked. The process is a healing one – there is a precision required in baking that you don’t necessarily need when cooking. While I’ve done it so much, I’m a little less precise in my measuring, in large part, baking is about science and chemical reactions and sometimes the act of following step by step instructions alongside the sensory effects is soothing. Eating cake is pretty soothing too.
I don’t know what to write here. I feel like my thoughts should be more coherent, but they’re not. I have a lot to talk about these days, but I don’t. The air is heavy and thick outside and there is a cake hidden out of the dog’s reach in my kitchen.
But I am making time for cake and coffee and laughter and friends and all of those things bring me much joy these days. And joy matters.