If we were having coffee, I wouldn’t actually have coffee. Even a single cup a day makes me anxious, so I’m finally stepping away from it.
(I’d order peppermint tea instead.)
As for the conversation, one of three things would happen:
- I’d be almost completely silent, unable to find anything to add and not wanting to speak simply to fill the silence.
- I’d chatter non-stop about anything and everything, if I wanted to connect but didn’t quite know how. That’d be my way of fishing–most awkwardly–for the thing that’d make you bite.
- Feeling at ease, I’d share what’s most important to me at times that worked in the conversation.
I mostly blog as if the third is true, so I’ll coffee-share in the same vein.
If we were having coffee, you and I, I’d tell you that I feel ill at ease right now. Nothing feels quite right, and it feels not-quite-right all the time. Read more…
Tonight I took a picture of my husband singing to our younger son.
I snapped a picture and realized Anthony was singing a song important to both of us.
I melted, remembering that song playing on an evening that would prove pivotal to both our lives.
And then? Then he wrote a post about that song, lullabies, love.
How I love this man!
Our family friend Ra came over to watch Farscape tonight.
In the middle of narrating a story, my husband interrupted, “You should know, Deborah is really Pinkie Pie.” Ra knows who Pinkie Pie is; I sent her a message explaining weeks ago.
But, wait. Do you know who Pinkie Pie is? No? She’s one of the core six ponies in the new My Little Pony–the one who bakes, tells lots of high-speed, high-pitch jokes and throws confetti.
She’s me. Read more…
I accidentally went on a date with a stranger recently.
My husband, Anthony, had sent me off to see Mad Max. He wanted me to have some time to myself, but he also wanted to talk about the movie with me afterward.
I left home early enough to have a beer beforehand. The tiny wine bar I visited was so packed, I asked the man next to its lone empty seat if that seat was taken. It wasn’t, so I took it. I got to chatting with the man.
He mentioned he was a musician. He’d just played solo nearby.
“What kind of music do you play?” I asked.
He started to reply, but I interrupted him. Read more…
“Tell me a story!” demanded my five-year-old.
“Not tonight, sweetie,” I said. I’d already used so many words.
“Prettyprettyprettyprettyprettyplease?” he cajoled. “Just one story?”
“Oh, fine,” I sighed, reminding myself five-year-olds have pretty low storytelling standards.
There was this dog, Bud,
and he could speak Cat, the language of cats.
But all the cats were afraid of him, because he was a dog!
They hissed and ran away, so he didn’t get much chance to talk to them.
Then, one day, close to his house,
he found an old, sick cat named Tanzie.
She couldn’t run away from him, so he practiced speaking Cat with her.
She was so sweet, he forgot he was there to practice Cat.
He brought her milk and treats as often as he could sneak them away. Read more…
Last night I wrote about how I haven’t seen my friends enough since I had my second child.
Today my family and I joined our friend Rara and her mamasaur at a playground. We chatted while running after my kids, and in between my older son’s breathless entreaties to race him. (Spoiler alert: He always wins, but his races are just on the other side of fair.)
We all went to eat. My oldest sat next to Rara and nuzzled her as if they’d known each other forever; maybe they have. My littlest one didn’t so much eat as smear rice all over the table.
I cheered out loud when I saw her little dinosaur.
My continued cheering quietly as we said farewell. See you soon.
After returning home, I read her newest post. It answers the question, “Where’re you goin’?”
I didn’t know that earlier, when I told her I’m not sure where I’m headed. I only have the vaguest idea.
What I do know for sure is that I’ll be in good company getting wherever “where” is.
Today I visited with friends.
I haven’t done that much since I had my second child last year.
I haven’t had the time or energy. Since I already drive at least three hours each weekday, I haven’t wanted to negotiate drives further than five minutes away from home on the weekends. Weekday evenings have been completely out of the question.
My husband’s nudged me toward the door. He’s encouraged me to make time with girlfriends, suggesting it’ll lift me up like no words on a screen ever could. I’ve waved him off, thinking I was doing myself a favor by avoiding the drive, the time, the emotional output.
I knew my husband was right when my heart plummeted as my friends walked away today. I wanted to shout, “Don’t leave! Please! Let’s just stay here for another ten minutes! Or five? I’d even take three!” Instead, I quietly helped pack my family’s things with tears in my eyes. Read more…