Yes, I write my own poetry...those poems at the end of my blogs, that often serve as the lace to my dress, are all self thought, self written and self owned.
I'm 7 months in or so at my new job, and I'm 7 months in or so more into loving it. The 6 month itch for me officially uncreased and ironed out what was suppressed since I changed jobs, and has come out with glory in hand. Won't make any sense to you if I
Marcus just informed me that he's heading to Mexico City for work. The mood changes, the tone is different, and my posture carries a new pose when this happens. Missing him is the least of my emotional burden. I've mentioned before how Marcus is great at making me feel like our responsibility is shared regarding all things "grown up", but he truly carries that alone, and effortlessly displays a peace that either is sincere in all forms, or well dressed, mannered, tucked and tinkered to be a prime example of what bullshitting at it's best looks like.
I haven't forgotton about my desire to present my epiphany at church the other Sunday. I also haven't forgotten that I have yet to unload and share the Chicago texts that burned and etched a new love in my husband that was always there, just re-visited, re-membering the re-ality that re-affirms who he is and why is is worth re-marrying all over again. That's the great thing about this blog, you see, even if I wanted to forget, I can't, this damn thing has a great memory and a black and white way of re-appearing when you click re-turn.
I have to find a dermatologist, congenital adult cardiologist and a dentist...any suggestions?
I need to sell my LR3, it eats gas, and wait for it...wait for it...I'm gonna buy a car. Like a non SUV. Who am I?
I feel the need to share, about myself...as if that isn't what I do already on this here blog, but everytime it happens to me, I always wonder...does anyone else do this? So here goes, and please tell me I amn't alone in this. Every time I make poo poo...by the way, I never used to say that, "make poo poo", but Marcus says it like that, and since we got married, I do too. Anyways, everytime I make poo poo, I cry (omg, I just lol'd loudly to myself for typing this). No, seriously, I do. Not cry because I'm gonna miss the turd, and thinking of it's waste going down toilet breaks my heart, but a tear or two, will always roll down my face as that shit rolls outta me (and there I go again, lol'n). That can't be normal right? Lord, here goes...and once, for fun, I made a video diary of it as proof. I narrated the whole thing, and mailed it to my sister Sally when she was overseas in the war, so she would have something to see, aren't I nice :-)~ Needless to say, she showed everyone, and it's probably on YouTube now, don't tell anyone, ok?