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Sunday

The day started out auspiciously enough. The Pirate and I had had a burst of energy late Saturday night and managed to put the curtains up in our bedroom, which means that we're not awake the second the sun comes up. The rooms was still impressively dark when I woke up at 8-ish, for which I was profoundly grateful. And the Pirate woke up euphemistically happy, which is always a good thing.

But, at breakfast, I started reading about how stress makes you fat and how the fat that women accumulate through stress puts them at higher risk for heart disease and early death. It got me thinking about how stressful my own life is, and how telling me that if I don't reduce my stress level I'll die isn't exactly helpful. By the time we got to San Jose, where we were meeting my best friend and his partner for the Cirque du Soleil show, I was so deeply in a funk that I couldn't even enjoy the show. Or was it because it just wasn't my sort of thing? I personally hate dance concerts. Hate them. And this production couldn't make up its mind whether it was an actual circus or a dance show, and ended up doing both in a mediocre way. I don't know what I was expecting, but it was better than that. And all through the show, I was totally preoccupied with how to de-stress my life.

The problem is this: I can't find a good way of de-stressing that doesn't involve moving to a deserted island, leaving behind my job, my husband and my children. Being around other human beings is stressful to me, but it's impractical to ditch humanity entirely. I haven't come to any conclusions, either, although spending time with Carl and Fernando was wonderful.

*sigh*