Today I have to take a three hour glucose/gestational diabetes test. I failed the one hour, but my mom said not to call it failing. I think it was the Multigrain Cheerios I had at my parent’s house before the test; so maybe what I’m doing right now is called blaming, not failing.
On Wednesday I was walking home from the beach and the neighborhood smelled like laundry. It was late in the day and the dust on the street was being kicked up ever so slightly by the passing cars. There are two houses I pass on my walk to the beach that are being completely remodeled. Something is different with each every time I go by. These renovation projects are why I always wear shoes on my walks. Sometimes the machines and tools putting the homes together sound angry. Scott and I used to sneak inside of one of the houses at night to see if we could watch the waves or look at the moon or check out the progress on the swimming pool. The other day there were two cars in the driveway and a naked statue next to the front door. I don’t think we can call it our house anymore, although we didn’t like the final colors they chose anyways.
I was kind of a mess after I found out the news about the glucose test. I called my dad crying and he helped me feel better by saying things like “Oh no!” and “That’s awful” that ultimately conveyed I get it and I’m sorry.
I remember the time he dropped me off for college summer school at Scott’s vacant two bedroom apartment in Mission Beach. It was kind of like being left at camp after everyone had gone home or being dropped off at a school basketball game before your friends were there. Scott was up at his parent’s place for the summer painting houses and entertaining cousins. His four other roommates were working bait farms or chasing swells or living with girlfriends next to civil war battle grounds on the East Coast and my roommate Stephanie was stuck in traffic. It was time for my dad to go, seeing that I was 20 years old and knew how to lock the door and cook scrambled eggs and rice and would ultimately be fine. But once he was gone, the empty two bedroom with the black carpet and note knifed into the wall that read “Gone to Mexico for waves and beer” suddenly seemed less funky and amusing, so I went surfing because the ocean is always familiar.
This Wednesday I did the same thing. Surfing is always the ultimate reset button for me.
I’m still not happy about having to drink three sugar drinks for my second glucose test. Even just one makes you feel like an eleven year old stole your body on Halloween and ate a Pixie Stick at every house they said trick-or-treat at. When I was trying to explain the test to one of my surf coach kids yesterday I said “You have to drink this orange drink with a high concentration of sugar and then wait and see if your body processes it properly…” She observed that maybe the drink is kind of like when you combine all the sodas at a soda fountain and then add sugar packets to it. “Yeah, it probably is kinda like that” I said.
I told my mom I would just pretend I was a hummingbird for the day sipping up all the sugar. After that, I’ll have to decide what my next move is based on the results. It’s kinda like how mother nature is making her next move into spring. And then more literally, there’s my chess game with Scott. I’m the white pieces, Scott’s the dark brown. If you have any tips for what my next move there should be, let me know!
p.s. a spring playlist! The first and the last songs are my favorites, but the middle ones are good too. I hope you have a good weekend!
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