Two Tales, One Weekend

Sometimes I think I'm getting old.  

Then I do something that makes me feel like I'm still young.

We went to go see Pat Benatar and Neil Geraldo the other night.  I was in my 80's heyday glory.  The girl can still rock and rock HARD.  They put on a great show - somewhat similar to the set I saw her do last year when she came around on tour with Rick Springfield, but it was still amazing.  And we were in the 11th row of a fairly small theater so it was almost as if I could  reach out and touch her.

But I didn't.

I even missed out on snagging one of Neil's guitar pick's because I didn't believe it would actually make it back that far and surprisingly, it did.  By the time I realized it, the guy in front of me grabbed it.  Oh, well.   I sang, I screamed and as I looked around, I almost felt like one of the youngest people in the room.  
 We made it a date night - something we don't do nearly enough - and went to dinner first and then the show.  We got home late but I was still feeling fairly energized and actually wrote for an hour before going to bed.

I even got up the next day and was still feeling pretty young and peppy.

Then came the 4th.  

Sigh.

I don't know what it is.  I can't explain it.  Holidays...any holiday...just exhaust me and make me want to stay in my jammies, curled up on the sofa and just do nothing.  I don't know when it started happening but basically I am NOT the person you want to invite over because everything exhausts me like I'm a 90 year old woman.

We were invited to spend the day with some friends - barbecue, swimming, and just having fun.  Did I swim?  No.  Did I even bring my bathing suit?  No.  Do I suck?  Yes.  I wore a maxi dress because I was basically too lazy to wear normal clothes.  My hair was somewhat styled.  I did manage to make some kick ass salads - potato salad and a tortellini salad - but other than that, I was content to let our friends grill.

Someone even made my S'more for me.

Okay, but in my defense...the 4th is just not my thing.  I enjoy SEEING the fireworks, I don't enjoy HEARING them.  The people that live next door to our friends were setting off what could only be described as bombs at 3 in the afternoon.  Why?  I honestly don't get what the thrill is in that.  I was pretty psyched to get home early and watch the Macys fireworks on TV, but I missed them.

And don't even get me started to how much energy I did NOT have on Sunday.

I guess my inner-party girl can only come out once a week and I used that up at the concert.