Waking up normal. (Or just let 'em sleep.)

As I was trying (in vain) to fall asleep last night — arm and leg jumping around like they had hooks in their mouths and were no longer in water — I realized my arm was actually sore. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was from lifting all of those heavy, overly full glasses of wine. So this morning, I decided that I should focus on some other methods of stress relief and am going with running, Lexapro and yelling at my kids. Now maybe I can finally get some sleep.

We weathered the chemo-and-our-town-is-on-fire storm last week with aplomb. Sure, the hubby was tired and needed lots of naps. And, yes, the hand burning and jaw on fire thing was just, well, effing annoying. Especially when he was trying to grill his beer-up-the-ass chicken on Sunday and had to wear gloves because the slight breeze outside made his hands tingle and blaze up. But this round was FAR easier than the first one overall. I watched him in amazement. Chemo boy was growing up.

By Friday he was game to head to the park for Park-a-palooza. Saturday he came to miss-miss’ soccer game and cheered her on. Then we headed to Murphy’s on bikes for a special dinner lined up by a friend and the owner. He even got out with me and bean and the bike and ran up and down the street while she mastered the two-wheeler. (Unbelievable. That kid is only three.) It was almost like normal. Pre-cancer normal.

And then he headed off to California for work meetings this week. So I’ve been savoring some serious alone time. Being marginally productive and doing whatever the hell I want to. I actually felt guilty accepting meals this week too. But then I thought, “Well, it’s better than the alternative.” And quickly got over it.

Last week was the peak of stressful-ness. I was texting back and forth with friends who were either evacuated or could be at any moment. Old friends and the owners of 8 Days a Week lost everything. People were missing and later found. We didn’t know who could be next and lined up the air mattress to house friends in the middle of the night if needed. I listened obsessively to the online police scanner and watched the skies in between watching the hubby and making sure he took his meds.

But, we also laughed at True Blue when she admitted to grabbing the $200 bottle of wine and forgetting her kids’ lovies in her haste to pack up for evacuation. We made it out to a benefit for the firefighters and evacuees (sans hubby) on Wednesday and enjoyed ourselves eating food from two of our favorite food trucks (Hi Rayme and Hosea!) while sipping a brew and listening to a live band. I loved the feeling of community the night held. And the girlies had a blast.

In fact, we were so normal and boring that I didn’t sit down to write all week. Even amidst all the excitement. So that’s something.

This week I’ve been worried about the hubby overdoing it. I can’t hover over him when he’s miles away in San Jose. So maybe it’s been a good thing for both of us.

I did have a long talk with my brother and warned him about the enhanced perils of going batshit in our family. He’s leading a talk on disaster preparedness to a group of Tea Partiers in SC and it made me flash back to my dad’s weapon arsenal and camo-draped homestead on the outskirts of Mullins (before he took flight to Appalachia). So I guess I’m saying that things appear to be their own version of normal there. And someone’s got to backfill the crazy vacuum. (Love you baby brother!)

Then there was the sad news that Mima’s house has been boarded up because some of the crack heads on the street had let themselves in and were making themselves at home. Again, not a huge shock. But it’s hard to envision the house I basically grew up in looking like a fallen down abandoned junk heap. Ugh.

Now I must shower and handle my con calls and get my shit done. The hubby returns tonight and I need to look like I’ve been busy.

TODAY’S THEME SONG: Tangerine Sky. Kottonmouth Kings. I’m gonna live my life from day to night with no hesitation.