Balloon Rally

Last weekend, we watched the balloon rally at the 2009 F-bo Airfest. I'd never been to the airfest before but I wanted to watch the balloons take off. I don't know where my recent fascination with hot air balloons came from, but I've been thinking a lot about trying it out one day. Matt and I had a very expensive chance to balloon over the Serengeti, but, at $475 per person, we opted out. Now I wish I had. My only other sort of chance was at Downtown Disney this past summer, where they have a moored balloon that floats straight up 400 feet over Disney World. I was ready to drop 20 bucks on that but it was way too windy the day we went. Oh well.

So I settled for a local balloon launch. Actually Matt and I stalled until the last minute. Matt was napping, and I was exhausted. We didn't want to pay the money to get into the airfest, and neither of us really wanted to go to the airport, since it's a place that holds some difficult memories for us. But we rallied (hahaha) and drove out to the industrial park nearby to watch about 6 balloons took off from the F-bo airport. They floated over our car and over the corn fields, and soon Matt and I took off like tornado trackers.

I've been down a lot lately, feeling tired, sad, and stressed. The airport here is a place of great sadness for me, not exactly a place I expected to find some joy, yet chasing the hot air balloons with Matt made me happy. It was a really simple distraction, something we almost skipped out on, but for that day, it made all the difference.

Out of My Comfort Zone

Today I tried something I never thought I would ever ever try.

I went to a water aerobics class. Deep water aerobics.

A friend of mine at work approached me a little sheepishly one day, and said, "Hey, Courtney... You've been wanting to start exercising a little more, right?"

And then I found myself in the deep end of the pool at the F-bo rec center, with a "weight" belt around my waist and a pair of "dumbbells" at the pool's edge.

It was fun, and I found myself laughing throughout the whole thing... and breathing hard. And I think I'll go back.

The Bee

This weekend I made a realistic to-do list, and Matt and I did nearly everything on the list. Even though it was "realistic," the tasks were not small ones.

I had to tutor a student, go to my office for a couple hours, cash checks at the bank, and jog a couple miles. Check, check, check, check. Matt and I cleaned the kitchen, used 1/2 of all the ground cherries from Thorncrest Farms in salsa, and rode 21 miles on the Cannon River Trail. I know, impressive, right?

On top of all that, we followed through on eating one of the three melons we got this week, fixed the screen that our beloved Bernie busted through, and made banana bread cupcakes for 31 teenage boys.

So, when late afternoon came around, and I wanted to take a break, I did. I got myself a beer and a book, and I went outside to sit on our patio. I hooked the dogs up so they could enjoy the weather too --- winter's coming to Minnesota very soon, and we want to hold onto every moment of late summer. Immediately, a bee started hovering around my Corona (probably the lime's fault). Thinking I was smarter than him, I sprayed myself with bug spray and opened my book. Happily, I took a swig of my beer...

... and found myself with the bee in my mouth. He panicked, I'm sure, and stung me inside my upper lip.

So much for a well-deserved rest!

When I posted this as my status update, a friend of mine responded. She and I recently and unexpectedly lost a very good friend, a friend who was well-known for her mishaps. Andrea simply wrote, "that sounds like a Kristen story."

And then I smiled, and I didn't really mind having a swollen lip anymore because I knew Kristen would have just toasted her Corona and enjoyed the moment, mishap and all.