I want to let them spin around, gently through my head like a snow globe...
each one illuminated for a moment--
the look I gave that man on his Harley,
and the chill I got a few minutes later when he drove through the parking lot I had been turning into,
slowly driving and looking.
Moments like that remind me that my gawking is far less sincere than I think it is--
I may give a look that says, "I want you to fuck me right NOW."
but...that would just be silly.
The next snowflake of this day is a soft and growing thought,
I line being drawn on a sidewalk by a patient hand...
It was the thought that brought me here, to my log-in page, to my dashboard, to this
I was thinking about...
You are sand slipping through my fingers.
The words stay inside me, still tumbling, out of order, but...
Suddenly the hand holding the chalk is tired; the line ends.
More snowflakes, drifting down...
It's not even 9 and I think I may go to bed.
The pictures from our Roman party got corrupted on my camera, so I'll have to throw on the ole costume and take some more.
The party was a lot of fun.
I drank too much wine,
and in the morning as I lay dozing myself into a waking state,
the words, "drink, drank, drunk," ran through my head.
Which led t, "think, thank, thunk, spink, spank, spunk"...the latter of which made me giggle like a maniac.
Oh, Mr. husband read the post I wrote about his father and informed me that I was wrong about his reason for the invitation:
he simply thought it would be a waste of money for his Dad to stay in a hotel for 3 nights.
I'll still believe that deep down, somewhere inside him, he cares what his dad thinks.
I may have been a bit tipsy on Friday night when the Father in law came home,
and I might possibly have told him that if he ever needed any marital advice that he should ask my husband, because he has it all figured out...
This might have been a rude thing to say to someone who's hurtling into marriage #4 and his 60th birthday at mach speed.
I meant it nicely, although...
Which reminds me: it feels strange to call him "father in law" (and not just because I left the hyphens out. Do you know how hard it is to hit the hyphen with tiny little hands like mine???).
I even hesitated to introduce him to my kids as "grandpa".
And the feelings it bore in me were only whispers of what it feels like for his children.
I, at least, have the option of never letting my kids know that he matters.
They have 3 grandparents who love them, and that's more than I had.
Mine all hated me, somewhat inexplicably.
My grandfathers both died during the 5 years or so before I was born and my maternal grandmother lived on the opposite coast from us, so I only saw her a handful of times before she died, which was when I was 8 or 9.
(this is what happens when you're the youngest of a youngest)
My Grammie, though, she lived next door to us until I was 9 and we only moved a couple of miles away, and had a tradition of going over to visit her every Sunday evening.
She would bake something yummy for us and my sister and I would sit quietly while the grownups talked, looking forward to the end-of-evening treat.
I could write a whole book about her.
An amazing woman.
I think I was even more scattered in my train of thought last night, so my apologies.
It was a fabulous weekend, but hubby is gone again, leaving me in custody of SIX boxes of Girl Scout Cookies.
Oh, I'm the dumbass that ordered them, but supporting the troup seemed like such a good idea.
I meant to send some home with the step-son yesterday, but I forgot--probably it was subconsciously intentional.
Speaking of the step son...
I guess we're heading into court again soon, to figure out this custody thing.
Hubby thinks the new lawyer is good, and his ex is still lying about stuff in the court documents, which sort of cracks me up.
I think we'll be fine.
All they need to do is send out the custody evaluator.
We win, hands down.
Happy Monday, to those of you in my quadrant of the earth.
Midnight tonight, I will be able to download Pearl Jam's new album...
and it should arrive in the mail shortly.