For a few weeks now, I’ve woken to the evidence of bears who have torn apart our trash cans just yards away from the bus. A part of me has hoped I would see one so I could take a picture. That is…until I actually did. Looking at that beast up close, I realize I have too much in common with that damn bear.
It may not be the best picture, but he surprised me when I was resting near the joust arena at the end of this past weekend. Fumbling with my shaking hands could only yield this semi-intelligible photo. I promise…he was closer than he appears.
I’d like to say I have nothing analogous in common with the lumbering bear, but if I’m honest with myself I see a lot of myself in him. I am carrying around something quite dark and heavy these days and it is slowing me down.
I’m certainly not myself. In fact, my normal self would definitely be sleeping right now, at 3:30 in the morning, instead of trying to tap out some of the words swimming around in my head. My normal self might not be struggling with outrageous bouts of moodiness and unpredictability. My normal self wouldn’t be so anxious or consumed with the idea of sweets.
Okay, so the infatuation with sweets isn’t necessarily a symptom. There really are fried ice cream balls to produce after all. (I’ll get to that in a second)
The more I think about it though, the more I think I am probably carrying around all of these things not through any fault of my own. Much the way a bear is simply a bear and does bear things…an almost 40-year-old just HAS to naturally do some of the crazy stuff I’ve been doing lately. So, maybe my crazy is NOT my fault. Let me Google it.
Ok, I think I’m on to something.
Diagnosis: I have symptoms of perimenopause.
A logical causal effect…the BUS. (now don’t you DARE try to tell me that my estrogen is clouding my judgment and making that crazy assumption) I have to believe the bus is causing perimenopause. If the bus is the cause, that way, as soon as I set foot back in my house in Wisconsin I will no longer have these symptoms of night sweats, irregular heartbeat, insomnia, irritability, uncontrolled moodiness and downright cantankerous attitude. There is NO WAY I’m taking this crazy with me when I leave this bus! In fact, I would love to eradicate it much sooner than that.
I suppose I could try to eat my way out of this funk…or drown myself in a vat of our ice cream frying oil.
Fried ice cream could be an option now that the Frank Family clan has gone into the business. Our supplier gave us the last of what had been produced and we were forced to employ child labor last week to start filling the order we had placed to get us through the show. Here’s a peek at our first taste test:
We made 360 ready-to-go balls of ice cream in about 1.5 hours last week. Only about 1500 more to go!! Word on the festival street…delicious!
I want to survive this adventure of a summer. Strike that…I want to thrive in this adventure of a summer. I just wish I was behaving more like sugar and spice and everything nice right now.
Is there a prayer for that? (or any suggestions of other animals I should be emulating?)
Copyright 2015 Meagan Frank Choosing to Grow
Meagan Frank 