I'm not a lush,

but I play one on the weekends.
last night, it wasn't my fault.
hubby bought a pitcher,
and I just kept refilling.
usually his largeness out-drinks me.
I didn't even notice that I had drunk the whole pitcher.
He had a half a glass.
not my fault.
he was sick.
...and did I mention that it WASN'T MY FAULT?
I drank enough water and got enough sleep,
so I feel fine.
(ish).

I was thinking, though...
lying in bed with my smudged mascara and my bedhead--
although, catching a glimpse of myself, I wasn't appalled.
lying in bed, I thought of you.
somewhere out there.
and I marvelled at the thought of your hands, so rough,
caught in the rhythm of ordinary tasks,
when once they touched me.
I can see that look of awe on your face, for just a moment--
hear you speak the words like a prayer, you're crazy!
I go back further, and laugh at your confidence--
devoid of cockiness, and overflowing with smiles and my kinda jokes.
you're all about the shock value.
I imagine you out there in the world...
carrying traces of me, which have faded to the lightest scar.
the tattoo you left on me is invisible, but deep--
I feel it from the inside, like running my fingers over raised ink.
the light intake of breath is not enough to press your lines into me,
but a quiet place, with eyes closed and a loosening of my hold on things temporal...
there they are, the lines of your design, pulsing out into full color under my skin.
and you have moved from accident to art.

No, I didn't do any hallucinogens whilst out last night.
why do you ask?
there was a skinny boy with a cowboy hat.
hubby teased me for staring at him, but it was really just the hat.
I needed it.
couldn't figure out a way to get it without an obvious flirtation.
flirtation nation.
station.

almost...
you were there, on the other side of the phone.
and my skin tingled at the thought of you.
hearing your muffled voice, almost following the conversation,
but instead, staring out the window, gulping down the blue sky and wishing we were already--
3 hours ahead, full bellies, beer poured, pool racked.
wishing.
for things that falling stars couldn't grant.
wouldn't grant.
most definitely shouldn't
grant.
the beauty of not having leprechauns or genies is that we would all fuck it up in the end, anyway.
we are greedy, horrible things.

Happy October first.
I think it's somebody's birthday today.
somebody from my past...
oh!
Helene...my french exchange student from senior year of high school.
she was my french sister.
I should look her up...
we swore we would never lose touch.
it only took a year.
but we also swore that no matter what, if we did lose touch
(both romantics to the core, but with a thin ribbon of realism)
that we would not let the time between stop us from making contact again.
well, bon anniversaire, ma soeur.

and now, I'm off to have a wonderful
delicious
whipped cream and cherry on top
kinda day.
Deidra (the amazing un-blogger) is taking the boys and I on a surprise outing today!
and as soon as we get home from that, hubby and I are off to a party at a friend's new house.
I wonder if the backstabbing bitch will be there...
but I don't really care.
if she is, she better bring her hot brother.
no, not to protect her from me (what do I look like here, white trash???)
but so that it'll be easier to ignore her...