Perhaps the missing link is sleep. I resisted it like a catfish being tugged along the waters by a novice fisherman. When it finally caught up with me, it was as though I was the catfish flopping around the bottom of the boat, gasping for air as the brutal fisherman, with scars on his fingertips yanked the hook from my mouth.
"Pretty, for a catfish. A little small, let's throw her back in to see if she's stupid enough to catch the line again."
And so I got thrown back into the waters where possibilities are endless, and like the idiot fish that I am, I bit at the baited hook, and was tugged around again and again, until the fishermen grew bored with the game, and the fish was too tired to bother trying.
In the pre-dawn morning, where the birds become restless in the quiet skies, I was fortunate enough to hear a woodpecker pecking, and the bird that sounds like a monkey swinging from the trees. I was fortunate enough to see two raccoons scurrying up the hollow tree to make it home before the light of day, while a male and female cardinal sat on a nearby branch, and watched the sun rise.
Quiet. Peaceful.
Instead of calming my emotions, it left me wanting. I wanted to be the fisherman on the boat, gazing along the waters, baiting the hook that would give me a few moments of intense pleasure when the line was tugged. I wanted to be the bird that sat pleasantly next to her mate and watched the sun rise, quiet until, like a rooster waiting for the first crescent of the sun, could begin to tweedle a little twiddle. I wanted, again, what I've wanted all along this road I've been traveling.
Quiet. Peace.
Somewhere in my sleepless mind, and in my nervous heart; amidst the morning candescense of newness, I realized that I had, again, been afforded another opportunity to fulfill that want. I realized that yet another morning spent observing the creatures of nature, and feeling the power of a brand new day, made me a part of that very scene.
I wondered if I was watching and observing alone; or if some other soul, destined to be with my own, was also longing to be the fisherman and not the fish.
And though I am not quite there yet this morning, I see the opportunity is available. Shall I attempt to reach for this baited hook, in the daylight hours, and rather than resist where the line might take me, bite down hard and ride yet, another wave?
I haven't much of a choice now, do I? Wish me luck on the ride.
- - - - -
After I completed this, I realized that lyrics from The Rising by my best friend Bruce were streaming through my consciousness. Strange, but fitting:
I see you Mary in the garden
In the garden of a thousand sighs
There's holy pictures of our children
Dancin' in a sky filled with light
May I feel your arms around me
May I feel your blood mix with mine
A dream of life comes to me
Like a catfish dancin' on the end of the line
Sky of blackness and sorrow (a dream of life)
Sky of love, sky of tears (a dream of life)
Sky of glory and sadness (a dream of life)
Sky of mercy, sky of fear (a dream of life)
Sky of memory and shadow (a dream of life)
Your burnin' wind fills my arms tonight
Sky of longing and emptiness (a dream of life)
Sky of fullness, sky of blessed life (a dream of life)
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Monday, February 27, 2012
The Missing Link - - - Sleep? Nope.
I'd love to know if people that do what is necessary to get by, and nothing more, get stressed out. I keep thinking about the kind of day I had at work - - - balls to the wall, non-stop, work. No lunch. No coffee break. No water-cooler talk. Nothing beyond getting things done. Putting fires out, possibly starting new ones, and wondering if I can ever catch up and do the the things that are part of my actual job description.
I get it though, I truly do. I am one of those people that works their ass off, and is rewarded with more work. Or perhaps, I seek out more work on my own because I see where the extra effort is needed.
In any case, it is Monday and I am already exhausted!
Yet, I love the challenge. I love my co-workers. I love that I have a steady paycheck. I love that my kids see a working mom.
It is 8pm. I am so tired. I am more tired than the kids, but I can't go to bed because they're not ready yet! They need their mama to read to them, to tuck them in, to love them.
Dear Lord, I pray for the most beautiful sky tomorrow morning. I pray for the gaggle of geese, honking in formation, seasoning the pinkest skies tomorrow morning. I pray that my first sip of coffee tomorrow morning is the best, damn sip of coffee I have ever had. I pray that the kids brush their teeth, eat their breakfast, brush their hair and get dressed an hour before the bus so that we can spend a good amount of time shooting hoops in the driveway before the bus comes to get them. I pray that Paige continues to write her story "Two Suns Unite" with the vigor and enthusiasm of a relay racer. I pray that Tony always, always, always stays as sweet and kind as he is right now; that whoever marries him will cry with happiness at having found such a catch. And I pray for health for myself and for all those whom I love. I pray for wealth. And the winning lottery numbers. And. . . and. . . the missing link.
Ah, the missing link. I pray for that the most.
But right now, I pray for sleep and peaceful dreams.
For you, for me, for all my co-workers and friends. . .
I get it though, I truly do. I am one of those people that works their ass off, and is rewarded with more work. Or perhaps, I seek out more work on my own because I see where the extra effort is needed.
In any case, it is Monday and I am already exhausted!
Yet, I love the challenge. I love my co-workers. I love that I have a steady paycheck. I love that my kids see a working mom.
It is 8pm. I am so tired. I am more tired than the kids, but I can't go to bed because they're not ready yet! They need their mama to read to them, to tuck them in, to love them.
Dear Lord, I pray for the most beautiful sky tomorrow morning. I pray for the gaggle of geese, honking in formation, seasoning the pinkest skies tomorrow morning. I pray that my first sip of coffee tomorrow morning is the best, damn sip of coffee I have ever had. I pray that the kids brush their teeth, eat their breakfast, brush their hair and get dressed an hour before the bus so that we can spend a good amount of time shooting hoops in the driveway before the bus comes to get them. I pray that Paige continues to write her story "Two Suns Unite" with the vigor and enthusiasm of a relay racer. I pray that Tony always, always, always stays as sweet and kind as he is right now; that whoever marries him will cry with happiness at having found such a catch. And I pray for health for myself and for all those whom I love. I pray for wealth. And the winning lottery numbers. And. . . and. . . the missing link.
Ah, the missing link. I pray for that the most.
But right now, I pray for sleep and peaceful dreams.
For you, for me, for all my co-workers and friends. . .
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Another Week - - - Poof!
Another week has passed. In this week, I did not stop to consider anything. Between the heavy burdens of work and the busy schedule with the kids, time just passed. Time that is gone; that I cannot have back; that I contained no memories for longevity beyond knowing that in the third week of February, 2012, I was busy - - - too busy to enjoy the fact that I am alive, and healthy and blessed with two beautiful children.
Isn't this the way? Isn't this how it is supposed to be done when you're on the cusp of 40 years old? You work to put money in the bank. Money that you're too busy to spend.
Is this the way I want to live my life? Barely able to keep my eyes open past 9pm? Barely able to keep them closed beyond 5am?
Here it is: Sunday night. Another weekend of catching up with work; another weekend of running errands; another weekend of nothing much else.
Except for the basketball game that I coached - - - where the team scored 16 points, and the skies aligned and brightened after each child made a basket; the way it felt to get a high-five, and a "great job, Coach" after the game; the way Paige and Tony ran, sweating and out of breath, and became sad when I had to put in a substitute for them so that every child could feel the glow. . .
Yeah, except for that.
And except for last night - - - sharing a bottle of wine with a friend and watching a chick flick, interspersed with girl talk and amusing stories.
Oh, and except for church today - - - where the little blonde girl, when I said, "Peace be with you", again shook my hand heartily and said, "Pleased to meet you." (I try to sit near her when I can). And how, every week, I sit next to the same woman, and today I said, "I feel like I need to know your name since we spend every week together," and she nodded, told me her name, and said, "It's nice to have a companion here," and just like that, we became friends. And how the woman behind me had a voice that could spin gold. Yeah, that was nice.
I guess weekends are for this kind of stuff, and the busy week is just that - - - a busy week.
Yet, tonight, I dread Monday.
Yet, tonight, I am one day closer to seeing Paige and Tony who have been with their dad this weekend. Basketball is nice for this reason; and so is church on Sundays - - - because I get to see them for a few hours, even when they are away for the weekend. . . So, that's good.
I'm trying real hard to count the blessings tonight. I am going to pray real hard that more are forthcoming - - - in the way of greater friendships, a loving companion, and more time to listen to voices that can spin gold.
Which reminds me, Bruce's new CD comes out in a week!
Hope this week goes by quickly.
Isn't this the way? Isn't this how it is supposed to be done when you're on the cusp of 40 years old? You work to put money in the bank. Money that you're too busy to spend.
Is this the way I want to live my life? Barely able to keep my eyes open past 9pm? Barely able to keep them closed beyond 5am?
Here it is: Sunday night. Another weekend of catching up with work; another weekend of running errands; another weekend of nothing much else.
Except for the basketball game that I coached - - - where the team scored 16 points, and the skies aligned and brightened after each child made a basket; the way it felt to get a high-five, and a "great job, Coach" after the game; the way Paige and Tony ran, sweating and out of breath, and became sad when I had to put in a substitute for them so that every child could feel the glow. . .
Yeah, except for that.
And except for last night - - - sharing a bottle of wine with a friend and watching a chick flick, interspersed with girl talk and amusing stories.
Oh, and except for church today - - - where the little blonde girl, when I said, "Peace be with you", again shook my hand heartily and said, "Pleased to meet you." (I try to sit near her when I can). And how, every week, I sit next to the same woman, and today I said, "I feel like I need to know your name since we spend every week together," and she nodded, told me her name, and said, "It's nice to have a companion here," and just like that, we became friends. And how the woman behind me had a voice that could spin gold. Yeah, that was nice.
I guess weekends are for this kind of stuff, and the busy week is just that - - - a busy week.
Yet, tonight, I dread Monday.
Yet, tonight, I am one day closer to seeing Paige and Tony who have been with their dad this weekend. Basketball is nice for this reason; and so is church on Sundays - - - because I get to see them for a few hours, even when they are away for the weekend. . . So, that's good.
I'm trying real hard to count the blessings tonight. I am going to pray real hard that more are forthcoming - - - in the way of greater friendships, a loving companion, and more time to listen to voices that can spin gold.
Which reminds me, Bruce's new CD comes out in a week!
Hope this week goes by quickly.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Books. Oh, Glorious Books!
Brilliance.
Authors are brilliant. Brilliant minds. Brilliant abilities. Brilliant discoveries and attention to details that is breathtaking.
That's what a good author can do.
I've read thousands of books - thousands! When I finish one that takes my breath away - that makes me laugh and cry; that makes me consider the thought: "Humanity and the human condition should actually be defined as inhumanity," and I get in the context that it is written, and can apply to the demise of some of the world in which we live, I am taken away.
When I read great writing, I am equally frightened, and inspired to live my dream and write for the whole world to see.
I just finished a book by Pat Conroy South of Broad; and I just finished another "sneak preview" chapter of a book that my brother, Cliff is writing.
Equally inspiring authors.
I am blown away with words. Words that stand alone have no meaning unless the reader of the word can relate. For instance, love. The only reason that it is such a powerful word is because people have felt its powerful, surging insistence on recognition. A table is a table. But love. Oh, it's love.
I am enamored by people that can tell a story - - - that can walk into a room and have the attention of every person in that room. I am enamored by people that write. I am enamored by people that read. I am enamored by my neighbor who texts me and says, "I have a book that you need to read."
Enamored is a pretty nice word. Never knew what it meant until I could feel it.
In the context of my life - - - a life that has been utterly heartbreaking and incredibly joyful - - - I am intrigued by two sentences in the closing paragraph of the book I just read by Pat Conroy:
We know better than anyone the immense, unanswerable powers of fate, and how one day can shift the course of ten thousand lives. Fate can catapult them into lives they were never meant to lead until they stumbled into that one immortal day.
So many immortal days for me: the day I met my ex-husband; the day I found out I was pregnant; the day I decided to go to law school; the days I gave birth to Paige and Tony; the day my brother died; the day my father died; the day I decided that love was more powerful than anything in the world, and began to live in accordance with that knowledge.
I love reading because I love re-learning what I already know to be true.
Paige just asked me what "Enamored" means. I turned to her and said, "You are the most beautiful girl that I have ever had the pleasure of knowing and I love you."
"Yeah, but what does it mean?"
"That's what it means." I answered.
"Oh, I get it."
Yep, she sure does.
Authors are brilliant. Brilliant minds. Brilliant abilities. Brilliant discoveries and attention to details that is breathtaking.
That's what a good author can do.
I've read thousands of books - thousands! When I finish one that takes my breath away - that makes me laugh and cry; that makes me consider the thought: "Humanity and the human condition should actually be defined as inhumanity," and I get in the context that it is written, and can apply to the demise of some of the world in which we live, I am taken away.
When I read great writing, I am equally frightened, and inspired to live my dream and write for the whole world to see.
I just finished a book by Pat Conroy South of Broad; and I just finished another "sneak preview" chapter of a book that my brother, Cliff is writing.
Equally inspiring authors.
I am blown away with words. Words that stand alone have no meaning unless the reader of the word can relate. For instance, love. The only reason that it is such a powerful word is because people have felt its powerful, surging insistence on recognition. A table is a table. But love. Oh, it's love.
I am enamored by people that can tell a story - - - that can walk into a room and have the attention of every person in that room. I am enamored by people that write. I am enamored by people that read. I am enamored by my neighbor who texts me and says, "I have a book that you need to read."
Enamored is a pretty nice word. Never knew what it meant until I could feel it.
In the context of my life - - - a life that has been utterly heartbreaking and incredibly joyful - - - I am intrigued by two sentences in the closing paragraph of the book I just read by Pat Conroy:
We know better than anyone the immense, unanswerable powers of fate, and how one day can shift the course of ten thousand lives. Fate can catapult them into lives they were never meant to lead until they stumbled into that one immortal day.
So many immortal days for me: the day I met my ex-husband; the day I found out I was pregnant; the day I decided to go to law school; the days I gave birth to Paige and Tony; the day my brother died; the day my father died; the day I decided that love was more powerful than anything in the world, and began to live in accordance with that knowledge.
I love reading because I love re-learning what I already know to be true.
Paige just asked me what "Enamored" means. I turned to her and said, "You are the most beautiful girl that I have ever had the pleasure of knowing and I love you."
"Yeah, but what does it mean?"
"That's what it means." I answered.
"Oh, I get it."
Yep, she sure does.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Do What You Love
Despite having to travel for work and leaving my kids for a night, the outcome was good. The day was productive, I got to know a few people via face-to-face communication instead of email or phone; and things got accomplished.
Despite the horrendous traffic as I tried to avert the D.C. idiots on my way home, I had some great phone conversations, some great music and some great thoughts to keep me in good company.
Despite the idea of being away from the kids for the weekend. . .
I got home and greeted a frisky Gracie (who was limping so badly over the past few weeks that she's on a diet of prednisone, pain pills, cocaine, marijuana, vodka shooters and tequila snifters), patted the once-again little bastard on the head - - - a head that was two inches from my own since he will not stay down! - - and decided to spend the rest of this rather good day doing what I love to do.
(As an aside, and a by the way, Enzo is a little bastard again because he ate $80 worth of Gracie's pain pills, threw them all up, and when the housesitter, Jessica, called me (while I was in Buffalo) in a panic to ask what she should do, I told her I'd call the vet and find out. My brother Jim happened to be in the room, and said, "Tell her she needs to stick her thumb up his ass, give him mouth-to-mouth and see if his eyes change. . ." So when I called her back, I said, "Jess, I am sooooooo sorry, but the doctor said you need to cover your pointer finger with latex and. . ." I coughed because I was ready to crack up laughing, ". . .and stick your finger up his ass. . ."
"No? Really?" She asked. In a rush of words, I finished Jim's instructions.
"You're all so f---ed up! I was actually crying." She said.)
What do I love to do, you ask?
Read: So I opened up the obsessively-compusively-ordered box of books I ordered from Barnes & Noble with my new gift cards. I pulled out three Pat Conroy books (Cliff, did you know he wrote Prince of Tides? - which I read and loved many years ago), a book for Paige titled "Big Book of Questions and Answers" (and thumbed through it to discover that Lightning Bugs (also called Fireflies) communicate by their lights - mating calls, identification of the clan or family they come from, and of course, warning to other fireflies), and a book for Tony about puppies because he is obsessed with dogs!
Paige and Tony: I called them to let them know. Also said a prayer to the heavens, and asked for a hedge of protection around them (as I do every single day) and gave thanks.
Music: Listened to Bruce's new single, realized I was humming a Rolling Stones tune, and have been listening to Mick Jagger ever since.
Writing: Doing now: working words and thoughts, sentences and thoughts into coherence - - - my mind does not stop.
Food: Used my "VIP" card at Kaufmann's and bought myself a Queen cut prime rib, salad, potato and vegetable to have with. . .
Blue Cheese Stuffed Martini: delish.
Exercise: Beast of Burden cannot dance to itself now, can it?
Sleep: That's the plan as soon as I sign off this post.
My job: Been there, done that today.
Parents/Siblings: 75%-90% of my everyday is spent thinking about/praying for them, so I think I have the love part covered there. "I've been hauling ass so long; I've been sleeping all alone, Lord, I miss you." (Thanks to the Stones on this one!)
It's fun to do what you love, even if it's only for a couple hours.
Try it.
And now it's time to sing some Rolling Stones, Happy~~~
Well I never kept a dollar past sunset,
It always burned a hole in my pants.
Never made a school mama happy,
Never blew a second chance, oh no
I need a love to keep me happy,
I need a love to keep me happy.
Baby, baby keep me happy.
Baby, baby keep me happy
La-la-la-la-la-la-la. . .
Despite the horrendous traffic as I tried to avert the D.C. idiots on my way home, I had some great phone conversations, some great music and some great thoughts to keep me in good company.
Despite the idea of being away from the kids for the weekend. . .
I got home and greeted a frisky Gracie (who was limping so badly over the past few weeks that she's on a diet of prednisone, pain pills, cocaine, marijuana, vodka shooters and tequila snifters), patted the once-again little bastard on the head - - - a head that was two inches from my own since he will not stay down! - - and decided to spend the rest of this rather good day doing what I love to do.
(As an aside, and a by the way, Enzo is a little bastard again because he ate $80 worth of Gracie's pain pills, threw them all up, and when the housesitter, Jessica, called me (while I was in Buffalo) in a panic to ask what she should do, I told her I'd call the vet and find out. My brother Jim happened to be in the room, and said, "Tell her she needs to stick her thumb up his ass, give him mouth-to-mouth and see if his eyes change. . ." So when I called her back, I said, "Jess, I am sooooooo sorry, but the doctor said you need to cover your pointer finger with latex and. . ." I coughed because I was ready to crack up laughing, ". . .and stick your finger up his ass. . ."
"No? Really?" She asked. In a rush of words, I finished Jim's instructions.
"You're all so f---ed up! I was actually crying." She said.)
What do I love to do, you ask?
Read: So I opened up the obsessively-compusively-ordered box of books I ordered from Barnes & Noble with my new gift cards. I pulled out three Pat Conroy books (Cliff, did you know he wrote Prince of Tides? - which I read and loved many years ago), a book for Paige titled "Big Book of Questions and Answers" (and thumbed through it to discover that Lightning Bugs (also called Fireflies) communicate by their lights - mating calls, identification of the clan or family they come from, and of course, warning to other fireflies), and a book for Tony about puppies because he is obsessed with dogs!
Paige and Tony: I called them to let them know. Also said a prayer to the heavens, and asked for a hedge of protection around them (as I do every single day) and gave thanks.
Music: Listened to Bruce's new single, realized I was humming a Rolling Stones tune, and have been listening to Mick Jagger ever since.
Writing: Doing now: working words and thoughts, sentences and thoughts into coherence - - - my mind does not stop.
Food: Used my "VIP" card at Kaufmann's and bought myself a Queen cut prime rib, salad, potato and vegetable to have with. . .
Blue Cheese Stuffed Martini: delish.
Exercise: Beast of Burden cannot dance to itself now, can it?
Sleep: That's the plan as soon as I sign off this post.
My job: Been there, done that today.
Parents/Siblings: 75%-90% of my everyday is spent thinking about/praying for them, so I think I have the love part covered there. "I've been hauling ass so long; I've been sleeping all alone, Lord, I miss you." (Thanks to the Stones on this one!)
It's fun to do what you love, even if it's only for a couple hours.
Try it.
And now it's time to sing some Rolling Stones, Happy~~~
Well I never kept a dollar past sunset,
It always burned a hole in my pants.
Never made a school mama happy,
Never blew a second chance, oh no
I need a love to keep me happy,
I need a love to keep me happy.
Baby, baby keep me happy.
Baby, baby keep me happy
La-la-la-la-la-la-la. . .
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Round and Flat
Sometimes there are moments in a day where I realize that time is passing by, with no productivity. Sometimes, the world keeps on spinning without my having recognized that another hour has passed. I believe this is sometimes referred to as being on auto-pilot.
At work, auto-pilot is good. It makes the day go by faster, and in general, there is much productivity. Yet, 8, 10, 12 hours are gone, never to be returned.
For some reason, that gives me the vision of a balloon deflating - - air and bouyancy gone so very quickly. The balloon is black in this vision.
Sleep - another 7, 8 hours gone.
Where is the air? Where is the bouyancy?
I face another full day, having already worked two hours, and already feel deflated. After a 3 hour drive to Richmond, I will be refilled, and by the end of the night, when I slide into that big King size bed, alone, I'll be just a deformed piece of rubber ready to dream and refill.
Even the full balloons, gliding in the sky, free and floating, eventually pop, or sink down to the ground, far from where they left and remain there until someone picks them up and throws them in a landfill.
I don't want to be a balloon.
But today, I feel like one.
At work, auto-pilot is good. It makes the day go by faster, and in general, there is much productivity. Yet, 8, 10, 12 hours are gone, never to be returned.
For some reason, that gives me the vision of a balloon deflating - - air and bouyancy gone so very quickly. The balloon is black in this vision.
Sleep - another 7, 8 hours gone.
Where is the air? Where is the bouyancy?
I face another full day, having already worked two hours, and already feel deflated. After a 3 hour drive to Richmond, I will be refilled, and by the end of the night, when I slide into that big King size bed, alone, I'll be just a deformed piece of rubber ready to dream and refill.
Even the full balloons, gliding in the sky, free and floating, eventually pop, or sink down to the ground, far from where they left and remain there until someone picks them up and throws them in a landfill.
I don't want to be a balloon.
But today, I feel like one.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Touring the Globe
Well, not actually touring the globe, just the East coast - and not the warm areas - just the foggy, cold ones. Last weekend I was in Rehobeth Beach with a bunch of my girlfriends for our 2nd annual girls weekend. Fun times were had by all, though if I spent more time describing it all in detail, I would be 1) banished from next year's trip; and 2) way too giggly to finish writing this post. Suffice to say, fun times were had by all.
The Monday and Tuesday before that trip, I was in Richmond, VA for work.
This weekend, I am in Buffalo - preparing for what appears to be a whirlwind of family, laughter and food. (As usual). I'll be back in MD on Sunday.
On Thursday and Friday I'll be in Richmond again.
On Thursday and Friday of the following week, I have to go to NJ for work.
The week after, Richmond again.
Here's what I have to say about traveling:
Um, well, I go by the adage that if you don't have anything nice to say then don't say anything at all.
I'm tired. Though these trips have been interspersed with fun and laughter - - especially this weekend -- living out of a suitcase, and continually coming home to a house where laundry goes in, laundry comes out, dogs greet me heartily, dogs are disappointed with the sight of my suitcase, hiring a house/guinea pig/dogsitter, paying a house/guinea pig/dog sitter and keeping up with my self-promise to make dinner every night for the kids, and to fortify their love with focused time and love, has depleted most of my energy.
I want to sleep for a day. Or two.
Did I mention that despite loving my job, being entirely satisfied with my kids and my way of living in our household, I'm kind of lonely for companionship?
It would be nice to come home into a pair of loving arms that didn't belong to my kids or my dogs. (The guinea pigs don't hug, they just poop and do naughty things with each other). . . It would be nice to have an adult conversation as I prepared dinner. It would be nice to relax on the sofa with someone after the kids have been tucked in, and the dogs are out for the night.
It would be nice.
But alas, all that this traveling has done is afford me the opportunity to daydream about that kind of future with that kind of someone. I, of course, do not have any time to actually meet him, and get to that point of companionship that I daydream about.
B-U-F-F-A-L-O! I am here, and I plan on being entirely here. I'll allow the future travel plans to greet the present. Because in this very instance, I am not on a plane or traveling down the highway. I am sitting in the kitchen that molded the person I have become, and I like it.
Bruce on April 13th in Buffalo. . . I already booked my flight!
The Monday and Tuesday before that trip, I was in Richmond, VA for work.
This weekend, I am in Buffalo - preparing for what appears to be a whirlwind of family, laughter and food. (As usual). I'll be back in MD on Sunday.
On Thursday and Friday I'll be in Richmond again.
On Thursday and Friday of the following week, I have to go to NJ for work.
The week after, Richmond again.
Here's what I have to say about traveling:
Um, well, I go by the adage that if you don't have anything nice to say then don't say anything at all.
I'm tired. Though these trips have been interspersed with fun and laughter - - especially this weekend -- living out of a suitcase, and continually coming home to a house where laundry goes in, laundry comes out, dogs greet me heartily, dogs are disappointed with the sight of my suitcase, hiring a house/guinea pig/dogsitter, paying a house/guinea pig/dog sitter and keeping up with my self-promise to make dinner every night for the kids, and to fortify their love with focused time and love, has depleted most of my energy.
I want to sleep for a day. Or two.
Did I mention that despite loving my job, being entirely satisfied with my kids and my way of living in our household, I'm kind of lonely for companionship?
It would be nice to come home into a pair of loving arms that didn't belong to my kids or my dogs. (The guinea pigs don't hug, they just poop and do naughty things with each other). . . It would be nice to have an adult conversation as I prepared dinner. It would be nice to relax on the sofa with someone after the kids have been tucked in, and the dogs are out for the night.
It would be nice.
But alas, all that this traveling has done is afford me the opportunity to daydream about that kind of future with that kind of someone. I, of course, do not have any time to actually meet him, and get to that point of companionship that I daydream about.
B-U-F-F-A-L-O! I am here, and I plan on being entirely here. I'll allow the future travel plans to greet the present. Because in this very instance, I am not on a plane or traveling down the highway. I am sitting in the kitchen that molded the person I have become, and I like it.
Bruce on April 13th in Buffalo. . . I already booked my flight!
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Fifteen years ago. Everything changed. The morning was pleasant. Working on a Dream was released. Bruce was going to sing at the Superbow... -
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The day was June 16 th . It wasn’t quite summer in Buffalo, and if we’re honest, the snow piles were probably still melting at the end of th...