Well, except for the bloating under my eyes, my waistline and my American Express bill, I've recovered from the holidays.
And now I'm in training for the mother of all parties, my brother Ed's and his wife Jessica's Super Bowl spread. (There, a profound discussion about how the Super Bowl should be on a Saturday inevitably ensues. Looming hangovers are quick to inspire such banter.)
I kicked off my training a couple of week's ago at my friend Daria's house. She threw together a girls' night (save for Jay and Tom) bash that was kind of a post-New Year's/yay, the kids are back in school/we need to scrounge up an excuse for making pomegranate martinis event. Mike was all about the playoffs, so he didn't care where I took the kids. Daria's girls were there for Cara and Ryan. Her party started at four in the afternoon, we bailed near midnight. It was a good training day.
The next Friday, I get a call near 5 o'clock from Jay's wife Nancy, saying we should come over for drinks and snacks. I dropped Cara off at swim at 5:30, went for drinks and snacks, picked Cara up at 7, went back for drinks and pizza--and left around 11 at night. That counted as some solid nighttime conditioning.
Last night, Daria and I went to Montclair for Ethiopian food (truly, it's not sand), and a movie, and then coffee. The drinking was light, but it was 1:30 a.m. before we got home. This night was about building stamina for the long haul.
This afternoon, Annie called asking us to come over tonight after Cara's swim meet. Which can only mean one thing: be prepared for a serious workout. I didn't sleep well last night. (Could have been the Ethiopian food, could have been Ryan getting us up at 7....) But this will test my ability to perform under duress. I think a venti-sized Starbucks is in order.
But next weekend, I'll be facing the hardest drill of all: I'll be taking Ryan to his friend Jake's birthday party. At a place called The FunPlex. There will be no alcohol. I can't chew gum anymore because my lockjaw hasn't gone away. The party doesn't begin until 4 in the afternoon. The stress of being around 800 kids and their 8 million germs, which will bring on the inescapable stomach virus, will be great. There is no truer test of grit.
Listen, I only have a couple weeks left before the Big Game. I'm keeping my eye on the tiger.
Catherine Schetting Salfino