How to produce a moment of zen for a Type A personality

By last Friday, I literally thought I was going to tear my hair out, any moment. I had schedules to follow, appointments to attend, people to see, things to do....not exactly the most calming start to a weekend away from hell at work.

I was meeting my friend Naa in Crittersville. Naa currently resides in some podunk town 2 hours south of Atlanta. Not by choice, mind you, just giving him free residence while he gets his head together and figures out what to do for the rest of his life. Poor Naa is the least likely denizen of such a small, hick redneck place. It's terrible. He's taken to wearing butch macho clothing - like ruffian shirts from Aeropostale and ACG shitkicking boots. What the hell. I'm used to meeting this guy and going - "Oh hell. He's a character. Who else would be caught dead wearing something like that?"

Anyway, Naa lived in Hilton Head for a few years, and while there, shared his rent with a roommate, we'll call him John. John split to Atlanta after they both moved out of the apartment, and since then, has apparently been tasting the ever-luscious crystal meth scene in Atlanta's House/Techno clubs.

John had been an ice lover before, but had quit for his years in SC. Only here was it so prevalent, and so available, that he apparently couldn't turn away.

Anyway, he was in the midst of the depressive down that shows up around day 3 or 4, and won't leave for six months after you quit. He hung himself in his bathroom in his apartment down in Midtown. 28. Pretty yucky.

Naa was here to grieve, and needed a bit of help having some fun. WE went on an adventure, one that reminded me of my life before children. We spent an hour in the grocery store, arguing over which cake mix idea seemed the most beneficial to hiding things within. We bought humongous tart pans, and made the biggest cupcakes you have ever seen. I made peanut butter frosting from Reese's cups, and we ate our little chocolate confections of joy.

The rest of the weekend is pretty much in a fog. I remember waking up around Noon on Saturday, and being pissed that Naa called me and woke me up. We went to the mountains, and walked around in the woods as though we were traipsing to a tea party. We ate more chocolate peanut butter cupcakes.

I became pretty violently ill by last evening, I don't think my body was prepared for such intoxication. After a couple of salads laden with vinegar and salt, I felt much better.

Today, I'm going to stay home, work some, and pray a whole lot. Our inspection report on our house has not yet been written, but I am aware of the many little tasks that need to be done. Z and I are anxious. We both back-and-forth on the house from day to day. Do I honestly want to teach myself to replace subflooring? Maybe not. I don't see myself fuc&ing it up- I have a pretty rational mind for carpentry (Woodshop was my favorite class growing up. I got into huge trouble when my teacher with the feet that were hairy on the bottom - long story - caught me using a scroll saw on a expensive piece of teak. Whoops.)

The point is, I don't know that I want to have to work any more than I already do. I have issues maintaining balance as is. I want to have time to go to drum circles. I want to have time to take my daughter to the apple festival. I want to have time to go running.

I did find my zen, however. Somehow, running around like a hooligan, clearly gone, helped bring some childishness into my heart. Seriousness can easily melt away when you are too busy giggling.

So I say break free when you can. I got a lot out of dancing around on freshly waxed hardwood floors, in my socks, humming the song that was pleasantly stuck in my head.

I know you all can and should. Break free, that is.