max

I’d forgotten how much I appreciate Max, until he walks (saunters? flounces? bounds? leaps?) back into my life. He talks about our kids’ summer camp as if it were a prison. 

“I keep telling David to look for Lena,” he says. “But I’m not sure if they’re let out into the yard at the same time.”

A new good friend is turning 40, and I’m going out with her to celebrate. Our kids are a month apart, and good friends. I am immeasurably lucky in that I love Jenny as a person. Despite over a decade in age difference, we are some of the same. Figuring out how to be parents, how to deal with daughters. We recommend each other books, meet at the pool.

But Max. Max flops down on my bed without asking. Opens drawers and cabinets and my fridge. Stops by my house with pie and comic books. Max calls, keeps calling, and forgives. Max is twenty-something. He doesn't know what he wants to do, really. He’s still a dreamer. He's lost, but he doesn't care. He's in limbo. He doesn't have a mortgage. He’s just Max. 

Max and I have never been in love with each other at the same time. Sometimes I wish this wasn't the case. But most of the time I don’t. I don’t want to have to give up another best friend. 

High school, when pops taught max and me to ride motorcycles.

summer priorities

You might have noticed my absence these past few months (Or not. You know, whatever.) This was a really hard semester: class (data structures and algorithms), picking a lab (don’t even get me started), home life (roommate issues, hating my apartment). All of these things have tidily resolved themselves. I got a B in my comp sci class (ok maybe it was a minus but my GPA is still a 3.7 and no one cares about GPA anymore anyway and the point is I SURVIVED), I chose a lab(!!!) that most importantly, also wanted me (!!!!), and I moved into the sweetest most perfect house with Lena, and there will be a bajillion pictures and writings to come, because I have already written a lot about my Little House, which we call the Little House.

Summer is here, well, my summer is here, and with that all the things I said I was going to do after the semester is over, in list form:

1. Science
2. Be with friends
3. Be with family
4. Read books
5. Write fiction
6. Write nonfiction
7. Work on online presence (sort of goes with nonfiction.)
8. Take more photographs with my real camera
9. Tend houseplants, herb garden
10. Make things (knitting, cooking, baking, for some reason I REALLY want to try needlepoint.)
11. Exercise. (like, for real, with the intent to lose weight, predominantly.) (Also I am incapable of ever spelling “exercise” on the first try, ever.)

It’s become apparent to me that I am only going to be ever capable of accomplishing three of these things at a time. Class has been over for a week and a half two weeks, and I have done science, seen my family, and have been devouring books like its my job. (I am Charlotte Simmons, and The Descendants). I haven't even made the time to hit publish on this blog post.

So how to deal with this problem? Have a monthly rotation of three out of these eleven things that I want to do? Which even then is misleading, because science and family are mandatory. So I am allowed one other summer activity.

I think I've figured out a solution though. It looks something like this.

Revised summer to do list:

1. ScienceFriendsFamily
2. ReadBooksWriteThings
3. MakeStuffExerciseTakePictures

Solved it! Now I have only three things to accomplish! It’s going to be a great summer. I'm neglecting my houseplants, but you know, I had to make some sacrifices.

Lena on a summer adventure without me. Don't worry, I already yelled at my parents about not wearing a life jacket. It's like I'm the only adult around here sometimes.