My weekend started out as usual… too many social obligations (perfect), a ton of cooking to do for Junior Prom dinner and appetizers for the parents during “pictures”, finding a lost doggie on my power walk to the grocery store so I could fit in a semi-workout while getting the one thing I forgot on my three trips during the week, returning said doggie, trying to get the Effing sprinklers to work now that Summer seems to be here (finally) before my recently planted flowers die and btw I need to lose 10 pounds and I hate everything in my closet.
I enjoyed every part of all that chaos, I chose a black and white color scheme for the prom dinner, white flowers on every flat surface, lots of candles so the kids would feel like our home was worthy of their beautiful gowns and tuxes. I carefully planned a menu that would be yummy and filling but not messy so the girls didn’t have to worry about drippy sauces. A friend came over and we cooked, played our music, sipped wine and talked trash all afternoon.
Here’s where the heavy part comes in. I get home from going out for Fro Yo with the kids last night, turn on Desperate Housewives only to find our President announcing that we finally found and obliterated that big dark cloud that hung over us for ten years. It brought a flood of images from that morning when I turned on the news to check the weather, like I do every morning while I have my coffee, and saw a commercial jet heading for the Twin Towers. I watched it happen live and my life changed forever. I was afraid to take the kids to school, because if a jet can fly into New York City, who’s to say that Silicon Valley or San Francisco aren’t on the list of places to terrorize? And every time I go to the airport, I remember how it was before that fucker and his band of demons changed commercial travel for the US. I don’t love the part of myself that is absolutely thrilled that Bin Laden is dead, and hopes he was tortured mercilessly before that. I want to hear that President wanted his head on a platter as proof. But I believe in retribution, and I want other terrorists to know that if they fuck with us, they will regret it. And now I am anxious about the fallout that is coming as a result of his death.
So at first I thought I was small minded for worrying about the color of the flowers on my tables this weekend and losing 5 pounds by Friday when there are bigger things in the world to worry about. But then I realized that because our country takes care of business, I can think about parties and color schemes and I should totally appreciate the freedom that I have and that my kids can get all excited about dressing up for a dance. So when I pick out my clothes tomorrow morning and make sure that my necklace compliments my outfit, I’ll be remembering that I’m lucky to be free and proud to be an American.