Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Monday, May 5, 2008
2nd Annual Betty Ford Clinic Retreat
I returned last night from an amazing girls weekend in Charleston. Our journey began Thursday night, and I learned a few things about myself along the way. Apparently, I have a talent for seeking out the foulest smelling truck stop restrooms with even fouler people occupying the stalls. At one point, we happened upon one of my suggestions...... a no name gas station with a "knock off" Ryan's buffet attached to the back of the store. We all agreed that the food may be responsible for unknown disease or maybe even death. 2 bridges, and 1 asshole cop later we arrived at our destination. Friends Jen, Laura, Victoria and Kelly had been celebrating their independence from work, kids, husbands, and the mundane for the better part of the day. I joined in on the fun, and poured a tall glass of wine. It seemed so strange to think of getting up in the morning with no one to take care of except for myself, and with that thought, my hand seemed to tip that bottle of wine a little heavier. By midnight, my head was swirling from more than the drive and lack of sleep.
I surrendered to my fatigue around 2:30am, my mind dancing around visions of my family sleeping soundly in their beds. I missed them.
The next morning, armed with a cooler of coronas and a pile of celebrity scandal rags we made our way to the pool's edge. The water and conversation were refreshing, and I day dreamed of spending every weekend just like this. By that afternoon friends Pamela and Izzie had joined us, and we all continued bonding through stories of childhood, celebrity breakups, and life's passions. Women are the best conversationalists.
The morning light found me, and my feet searched for the hardwood floors lightly dusted in beach sand. I decide to head out for a run. The sound of the waves curling back and retreating to the ocean lull me into a deep state of clarity. I realize, that I am alone. My feet seem to slow, and I am pulling off my sweat soaked socks. The water seems to soothe my feet and soul. I am walking on clusters of vibrant seashells that crunch under each step. My mind wanders again, and I am thinking of the remarkable group of women that I am sharing my weekend with. Like the shells that randomly find their place on the beach, we all seem to have found each other in spite of our origins.
I surrendered to my fatigue around 2:30am, my mind dancing around visions of my family sleeping soundly in their beds. I missed them.
The next morning, armed with a cooler of coronas and a pile of celebrity scandal rags we made our way to the pool's edge. The water and conversation were refreshing, and I day dreamed of spending every weekend just like this. By that afternoon friends Pamela and Izzie had joined us, and we all continued bonding through stories of childhood, celebrity breakups, and life's passions. Women are the best conversationalists.
The morning light found me, and my feet searched for the hardwood floors lightly dusted in beach sand. I decide to head out for a run. The sound of the waves curling back and retreating to the ocean lull me into a deep state of clarity. I realize, that I am alone. My feet seem to slow, and I am pulling off my sweat soaked socks. The water seems to soothe my feet and soul. I am walking on clusters of vibrant seashells that crunch under each step. My mind wanders again, and I am thinking of the remarkable group of women that I am sharing my weekend with. Like the shells that randomly find their place on the beach, we all seem to have found each other in spite of our origins.
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