Why I hate Daylight Savings Time

I love to sleep. Having the time and freedom to sleep in on the weekends and maybe even squeeze in a catnap are the ultimate luxury for me. Getting up for work in the dark at 6 am is my bête noire and I’ve been known to whine and wheedle with Tyler over a few extra minutes of shuteye like an expert negotiator (pleeassee…just five more minutes and I promise I’ll even walk the dog…).

Even though my cell phone serves as my weekday alarm, there are times when I forget to charge it or am simply so tired that I dismiss it and fall soundly back to sleep, so the role of household-waker-upper oftentimes falls to Tyler.

This morning, I awoke to Tyler holding my phone with its singsong alarm tone ringing, telling me it was time to get up. Fighting the urge to stay snuggled up, I sat up, fumbled for my glasses, and headed into the bathroom. I put in my contacts, brushed my teeth, and hopped in the shower. After showering, I headed back upstairs and flipped on the lights, surprised that Tyler was sound asleep (how dare he wake me up and then go back to sleep!). I pulled together my outfit du jour and shook his ankle as I passed the bed, telling him it was time for him to get up.

He squinted against the bright overhead lights, looked from me to the alarm clock on the nightstand that clearly showed it was 2 am, double checked his watch and then looked at me and said, “Bren, it’s 2 o’clock in the morning. What are you doing?”

So naturally, I took out my contacts and went back to bed for 4 more hours. Krypto’s whining woke me a few minutes before my alarm actually went off, so I even managed to squeeze in a quick dog walk (since I was already showered and all). It was still pitch dark, but there was a lovely ring around the moon.

 

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Attending an Art Fair in my 40s vs 20s

It’s fall in Savannah, which means on any given weekend there are approximately 43 events overlapping and luring you outdoors to enjoy the fall weather. Fall festivals, corn mazes, hay rides, pumpkin farm tours, art festivals, music festivals, food festivals, film festivals…I could go on and on and on.

So on a recent Saturday, we decided to get off-island and take in some of the mainland cultural activities going on, one of which was the Isle of Hope Art Festival. When we lived in KC, I loved going to the annual Plaza Art Fair. We would make a day (and sometimes night) of it, taking in all of the wonderful artwork in a multitude of media, while stuffing ourselves at the food booths of favorite local restaurants to the background sounds of various musical acts on stage. It was the place to see and be seen. I even got to help on the artist selection panel one year as a result of my roles at the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art and the Sprint World HQ private art collection. It was such fun flitting from booth to booth, cooly sipping our Boulevard craft beers before craft beer was cool. I once had the opportunity to judge the Brookside Art Fair and was so delighted with the funny photographs of one artist that I bought a piece which still hangs in our house so many years later (and still delights me). The Plaza Art Fair was usually the weekend closest to my birthday, so I frequently indulged in a little “to me, for me, from me” purchase as well.

Going to an art fair with a 10 year-old in tow was vastly different than my golden memories of years past. Pretty much all he wanted to do was buy cookies from the one booth selling them. He lit up at the food trucks, especially Kona Ice, but since we had literally just come from eating breakfast out, there was no “need” for a snow cone at 11 am. We zipped through the fair which was laid out over several blocks between the marina and a small park, visiting with the few artists we knew exhibiting like Kurtis Schumm, Jill Ferree, and Jim Marsh. There were quite a few marsh landscapes that I loved the way the artist captured the light, and one mixed media that had a great low country boil piece with metal cut-outs from Old Bay and Coca-Cola cans among other things. But paying hundreds (if not thousands!) for a piece of artwork when we don’t even have any wall space available to hang something new was just not meant to be. We stopped to listen to the band just long enough for Tyler to get a quick video clip of them before Jack starting dragging us on.

From Jack’s perspective, there were a ton of people with dogs (and puppies!) in tow, so he was happy to work his way through the crowd politely asking strangers if he could pet their dogs. If our mission was to get out the house for a little while and soak up some culture and fresh air, I guess we accomplished it after all.

duncan Duncan Takes A Break by Kip Holm