#i've got a long drive sunday so i'm updating my playlist

[mangostarjam]

new p1harmony album??

[spaceageloveblog]

Life's too short.

Woke up early for my Sunday morning run, 5:30a. First long run of my 12-week half-marathon training program. The next 10 Sundays will all be longer.

Make coffee, use the bathroom, weigh-in. Somehow I'm 5 lb. heavier than I was on the first of the month. Darn. I have been overdoing it on the cheese. On the other hand, on that particular day I weighed in pre-lunch after sweating in the sun. So maybe it's not that bad.

Do Wordle, do Connections, coffee is ready. Lounge on the family room sectional, sipping coffee. Start to go through the rest of my normal routines. Already made my running playlist last night, a few songs from my favorite The xx album, then the entire Romy album which I listened to for the first time on Friday, then "Gosh" by Jamie xx. 59 minutes, perfect length for a 6-mile training run.

Open my computer, update my tracking sheet, only thing left to track is sleep. Mark "1" because I had to wake up in the middle of the night to pee. Blame it on the late dinner. Didn't finish until 9p, I like to finish by 8p at the latest, preferably earlier.

Ate dinner late yesterday due to a miscommunication we had. Asked her if she wanted to go out. There was food in the fridge for the kids, and they'd be happy to spend the evening at home playing video games and watching YouTube. She couldn't think of anything she wanted. We went back and forth for a while, and it seemed to me she was on the precipice of accepting one of my restaurant ideas but always stopped short.

And then for the next 2 hours there was a series of phone calls she made or received, I don't know for sure. I halfheartedly tried to get her attention but no success. Finally at 8p she was free and figured I'd already ate. I said I was waiting for her. She asked why. I'm like, would you have just eaten dinner without me on Saturday while I was on the phone?

She said fine, let's go out. We got in the car. Started to drive. Want do you want? Not that hungry she said, maybe she won't eat. Huh? How about the Greek place, I said. Sure, she said. We started to have an actual conversation about her work stuff. Feels normal. It's been a normal Saturday, things are fine. Pull into a parking spot. Are you just going to get takeout she asks, can I just wait in the car? I'm like, what? I don't want takeout that bad. Let's go somewhere else. She doesn't want to go anywhere she concedes.

In fairness to her, I've been obnoxious about dinner recently because we haven't been drinking alcohol. That is, I've been making every dinner out into a referendum on drinking. Analyzing, complaining, etc. So she admitted she wasn't really interested in having dinner with me lately. I drove us home, heated up some leftovers for myself and we didn't talk the rest of the night.

Watching YouTube while sipping my coffee in the morning, trying to wake up and prepare myself to run. Figured I should get off the couch around 6:30 or 6:45 to beat the mid-September Central Florida heat, but it was just before 7 and I was still watching Sopranos clips. She woke up and poured herself a cup of coffee. Great, I thought, I'm going to get up right when she sits down and she'll think I'm avoiding her, which I'm not. But instead she avoided me by taking her coffee and sitting outside.

So I did get up. Brushed my teeth, washed my face, got my running gear on, opened the slider to the back patio slightly, told her I was going to run, love ya. Love ya too.

A few miles in, Romy transported me to another place. The sound of her new album reminded me of Ibiza. Simpler times. Happier times. Well, now that I think about it, I remember we fought there too. I think it was about me staying out too late the first night and ruining the first beach day. But I wasn't thinking about that on my run. Just the warm sun, the cold Mediterranean water, the dance clubs, the music.

Romy sings to presumably her partner about not needing to be so strong. It makes me want to communicate more clearly that although I seem like I have it all together, I don't. But I need to be strong for her and the kids. I want to believe she'd welcome me being vulnerable with her, but that doesn't always go so well. Usually it's in money conversations that I express vulnerability. But I think she interprets it as accusations and she feels guilty about her spending. Maybe if I was vulnerable about life and happiness it'd go better?

Romy sings about advice she receives to enjoy your life. That what's our life has been missing, joy. Too much of a slog lately. I come back from my run inspired to talk to her. After I get out of the shower I sit next to her in silence as she watches Say Yes to the Dress and I reread my notes on the Courage to be Disliked. After a few minutes she gets up, turns off the TV and leaves the room. I keep reading. All problems are interpersonal problems, discard other people's tasks, seek community feeling.

I decide to to tell her I'll join her and dad at BW3 to watch football after church. They had planned to go watch the Bengals. That's another sore subject. It's annoying she cheers for the Bengals. But maybe I should chill out and accept it. I mean, I should have a long time ago. The Steelers will be on TV too, and we could all watch the games. I could drink beer again, life's too short.

But my conversation doesn't go like it did in my head. She says I probably shouldn't go because she's going to watch the Bengals and it's a bar. And I sort of dropped it.

We drive separately to church because our daughter needs dropped off at a friend's after. So I leave 15 minutes early with my oldest son to practice his driving in the elementary school parking lot that's on the way to the church. My son and I get to church first. She shows up a few minutes later in a Bengals T-shirt and earrings.

Church opens with a testimonial about joy. I start to reflect about how have I arrived at a place in my life where I will be spending Sunday morning with my family at church, but then skip watching football and drinking beer. That would be the opposite of joy. I want my life to be the new Romy album not the new Spanish Love Songs album.

So I rehearse a redo of the conversation I had earlier with her. I will listen and hopefully end up in a place where I say I'll drop our daughter off then meet everyone else at BW3. But it doesn't go that way. My oldest says he's so excited for B-Dubs. He'll ride with me. I say I'm taking our daughter to her friend's. He said that's OK. I say I might not be going to B-Dubs. I ask her if the boys will ride with her. She says whatever. They do. My daughter and I go our separate way. Conversation was over before it started.

I drop my daughter off. Think for a moment of just going to B Dubs, ordering a beer and sitting at the table with them. But I chicken out. Decide I'll grab myself a healthy lunch at Bolay then go Publix to get stuff to cook for dinner tonight and tomorrow. Might as well do something useful while I've gotten myself into this quagmire.

In line at Bolay, after the sweet potato noodles and kale salad are already in my bowl, and I am waiting to give them my vegetable selections, she texts me and asks me if I'm coming and need a seat. I said no thanks, I will get lunch on my own. She said she missed me. I said I missed her too.

Listening to Ryen Russillo's podcast driving from Bolay to Publix. He's recounting his trip to Europe last month--Barcelona and Ibiza--coincidental timing to my thoughts from the Romy album. I am picturing myself doing this solo traveling. Lots of eating dinner at the bar. It sounds fun but I'd want a drink. It was at this precise moment that I locked in on life being too short, and not drinking was creating more problems in my life than drinking was.

I have stopped looking forward to things. Not just tangible things like a dinner out or a weekend away, but also hypothetical things, like I couldn't picture a hypothetical trip to Mallorca without relaxing at the end of the evening with a nice meal with a nice drink. So much of life is just our internal thoughts and daydreams, and I am having a hard time envisioning future good times because I picture myself actively avoiding drinking, ruining the good times. Even when I drive by hole-in-the-wall local restaurants, thinking maybe we should explore that place, then I picture ordering ice water and the fun thought goes away. Life's too short, I should let myself have a drink every once in a while.

Maybe I will fail by reintroducing alcohol due to my all or nothing personality. That is, I say I want to be able to drink when situationally relevant, but that leads to 3 beers at home on a Tuesday. But I have to try, because I am being a miserable person. And I can watch all the online content creators that gave up drinking and they're probably right, but they replaced it with other things in life. I would like to replace it with hiking and biking and kayaking. But she is not interested in that. She is interested in date nights on Park Ave and weekends at the beach and vacations in Europe. And I'm interested in those things too. But she is OK with those things without alcohol, and I am interested in those things if I can have a couple beers with dinner.

She texts me again and ask where I am. I tell her Publix, getting something to grill for dinner. She says OK. I tell her maybe I will stop by for the second half if the Steelers can score a few points, per the ESPN app on my phone, they're down 20-0 at this point. I add "lol" to the end of my text message response. Steelers snag a TD right before the end of the first half on my way home. I drop the groceries off and head to B-Dubs to watch the second half.

By time I arrive, the second half has already started and the Steelers have already given up another TD. She's in a booth, with her dad and stepmom all in Bengals gear. My boys are there too. Youngest playing on his phone, oldest engaged with the Steelers game but frustrated in lighthearted way. The Bengals aren't playing well either. They'd end up losing by 21, the Steelers by 23. Before that, while her stepmom wondering aloud if she should complain to the waitress about the $2 upcharge for celery that she wasn't aware of, and I introduce her to the concept of "charge it to the game" which I don't think she understands.

While they still talking about the bill, I get up, head to the bar and order a Heineken draft. I come back to the table and say "life's too short" probably more under my breath than actually out loud, and drink the beer.