Don't Look Ethel!

Not too long ago, listening to my usual Golden Oldies station in the car, I heard Ray Stevens' silly song, The Streak.  For those of you not old enough (or those of you who are old enough but have blotted it out of your memory) this song's verses were a series of Action News reports at various venues where a streaker had just been seen.  Each time the same man is interviewed and he recounts where the streaker came from and what he did, always ending it off with how he tried to protect his wife, Ethel, from the trauma of seeing the spectacle by yelling "Don't look Ethel!"  She always looked anyway.

At the end of the song she is even drawn into the action and joins the streaker in his crazy game.  It was one of Ray Stevens' best - he was great at telling silly stories.

Life seems to be very busy for us these days.  We are at retirement age but all that means is that we work at what we want to, not what we have to.  I no longer go to town to earn a paycheck but my yard and garden are a fulltime summertime job.  My husband is employed in oilfield construction but work is slow so he is working for a neighbour during seeding and harvest.  His year has been busy with re-roofing and siding his workshop and other improvement projects around the place.  My extra time is tied into volunteer work with our local tourism board and helping out with grandchildren.  Let's just say that, as to yet, there hasn't been any time to sit on the front porch in our rocking chairs. 

This past while it has been even busier with canning and freezing and now this week, cleaning up the flower beds and putting planters away.  There is a hospital fund raiser coming up that has taken extra planning.  I am in the midst of finalizing our plans to visit Australia this winter, and that ties into planning Christmas before we go, and that leads to thinking about Christmas gifts.  And it's not even Hallowe'en yet ... and come to think of it, we need to pick those pumpkins before they freeze ....

At least I don't have to worry about hosting the Thanksgiving feast this year - my daughter is throwing the party instead.  They have just moved into a new house and have knocked themselves out to be ready for company in time for Thanksgiving.  I can hear the excitement in her voice every time I talk to her; it's her first time to host the family.  She is thrilled.

And I am thrilled for her.  There's only one small problem: she lives an eight hour drive away.

And that isn't such a bad drive for us old people, but her sister, brother-in-law and their three small children are also going - the little guys may not like the drive so much.

And plans have had to be modified further - Grandpa is staying home to combine because it will finally be dry enough to go by then, and Daddy has to take his own vehicle because he is scheduled at a seminar right after the weekend and will not be traveling the same direction as us.  On the one hand grandpa's staying home solved the "What are we going to do with the dogs?" problem.  On the other hand we had to get their dog to our place so he could keep them both.  Who knew having someone else cook the turkey would involve so much planning?

As of this moment we have exactly 24 hours until we pick the student up from school and head west.  There is still packing to do.  I have been making re-heatable meals for the farmer but the fridge needs some rearranging to get it all in.  I have hotel reservations made - a pool is being offered as incentive to tolerate long periods of car seat imprisonment.  We are bringing as many activities we can think of to keep the short people happy.  They have never travelled this far before; we don`t know what to expect.

Because of all of this happening, a full night`s sleep has been pretty elusive this past while.  Sometimes I can`t get to sleep, but more often than not I fall asleep at bedtime only to awaken at something like 3:34 and spend the rest of the night planning what we still need to do because my brain won`t shut off again. 

It`s not like I haven`t played the insomnia game before; it`s both frustrating and infuriating to lay there in the dark knowing how exhausted you`re going to be in the morning.  I also know that if I can somehow keep my mind blank of lists, if I can derail the train of worries, if I can keep from scrolling down to that imaginary next screen ... my chances of getting back to sleep are so much higher.  Once my mind picks up that fateful thread of thoughts though, I'm done for.

So, for those of you who know Ray Stevens`song, you will understand how in the middle of the night last night I muttered the words "Don`t look Ethel!" under my breath.

But it was too late.  I'd already been incensed.