LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You should take the time to really appreciate what you’ve got today — you’ve got the capacity for it, certainly, and you might find a way to lift the spirits of those around you if you remind them.
Laura’s Log:
It wasn’t just the time change that made me miss morning brunch with the family, but at 8:07, the phone rang.
“Why are you still at home?! Aren’t you coming? We’re all waiting. I made waffles. They’re getting cold. And I’m trying out a pumpkin spice muffin recipe for the first time. Even your father says he likes them. There won’t be any left.”
I feebly repeated my standard 8 a.m. Is Not Brunch Time speech, but Mom cut me off again to mention that she was missing prime garage sale time for the sake of family and how it would be nice if certain other members of the family could place as much value on the weekly get-togethers.
“Lucy there?” I asked.
“No.”
"Marella?”
“No.”
“We just lost an hour with the time change. It’s—”
“So I’ll see you at 9.”
“N—” She beat me to the dial tone.
Gabriel reached over and hugged me. I could feel he was wide awake, time change be damned. That pecker could outlast the Energizer Bunny.
After another round of sex, I was TKO.
But then Gabriel asked, “Who was that on the phone?”
“Just my mother,” I mumbled in a half-growl that I hoped came off as my sleepy voice.
“What did she want?” I rolled over to face him. Damn those eyes. Even through my squint, they held a dangerous power over me. I propped myself up with a pillow and gave him a five-minute crash course on my family’s insane early bird Sunday brunch tradition.
“So let’s go,” he said, sitting up.
What?! How had he concluded he was invited? I hadn’t yet mentioned him to any of my sisters, much less my parents. Why ruin a good thing?
He got up, headed for the bathroom. I heard the shower running. Oh, my gawd. He was getting ready. Tupper whined from the side of the bed. I looked down to see his tail wagging, those puppy dog eyes begging for a walk. No matter how old he got, his eyes were always that of a pup. I sat up, stretched and decided I’d figure out how to get out of brunch while walking Tupper. He’d been waiting long enough for his morning routine. And as my feet hit the floor, I stepped in a puddle. What was I thinking? Tupper doesn’t wait.
I traipsed to the bathroom to wash my feet, leaving a wet footprint path behind me. As I explained to Gabriel why I had an urgent need to scrub my feet, he grabbed a towel and began drying off. “I’ll walk him,” he said. “Take your time. Enjoy a hot shower. How ’bout I pick you up a latté?”
Oh, my gawd. So this was my sanity amongst the insanity. It had only been a week since our first real conversation and already I felt more connected to Gabriel than almost any other guy I’d dated. Almost made the dry spell and the hideous train wreck dates prior to the dry spell worth it. Almost.
I was finishing mopping when Gabriel and Tupper returned. He kissed me and held me tightly before handing me my morning Starbucks. It was just enough perfection to give me the confidence to say, “We’re not going to my parents’. Not today. I still want you all to myself.”
And, just to underscore the perfection, he took the mop from me, smiled and said, “O.K.”
KEN’S JOURNAL:
FOUR OFFERS ON THE CONDO, THREE ABOVE ASKING, TWO OF THOSE W/O ANY SUBJECTS. ALL FROM A SINGLE OPEN HOUSE. VANCOUVER REAL ESTATE IS INSANE!
ACCEPTED AN OFFER $14K ABOVE LIST. DONE DEAL. MARTY & I CELEBRATED W/BEER & WATCHING AN EXCELLENT FINAL 2 PERIODS OF CANUCKS DOMINATING THE SENS. PRETTY FREAKIN’ PERFECT NITE!
AND THEN AFTER MARTY LEFT, IT HIT ME. FOR ALL THE AWESOMENESS OF BEING A SELLER IN THE VAN MARKET, I NOW HAD TO SWITCH TO BUYER. I HAD TO GIVE UP POSSESSION FOR JUNE 1ST.
GOT UP 3 TIMES IN THE NITE, TURNING ON ALL THE LIGHTS, LOOKING @ MY PLACE, LOOKING @ MY VIEW & THINKING, “WHAT THE FUCK HAVE I DONE?!”
SOMETIMES I DISTORT THINGS & THE PANIC BUILDS IN THE WEE HOURS. COME MORNING, I’M CLEARER & I CAN THINK OF A PLAN TO DEAL W/WHATEVER WORRIED ME. WHEN I FINALLY DECIDED IT WAS TIME TO GET UP FOR GOOD, I SLOWLY WALKED THRU THE CONDO, ADMIRING IT JUST LIKE I HAD THE DAY I MOVED IN.
AND W/THE CLARITY OF MORNING, ONE THOUGHT CONSUMED ME:
WHAT THE FUCK HAVE I DONE?!
Showing posts with label Ottawa Senators. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ottawa Senators. Show all posts
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Friday, February 5, 2010
JENNY FROM THE BOG / THERE’S SOMETHING ABOUT MARIBETH
February 5, 2010
LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You need to deal with a financial issue that feels like a speed bump -- but could actually become a major obstacle! Once you see the depth of it, you should know exactly what to do. It takes time, though.
Laura’s Log:
Good to be home. Catching up with Jenny was wonderful, but I missed my flushing toilet. And my own space. Why is it that I always feel like I’m suffocating after only one night sharing the same space? Maybe I’m more like Marella than I realize. We’ll be two spinsters who move into my parents’ house and all the neighborhood kids will say, in hushed tones, that we’re witches. Marella would love that. Buy a black cat for good measure.
Missed the torch relay in Roberts Creek. Mid-morning Jenny decided it would be fun to walk in the woods, collect leaves and weave natural placemats—a set for her and a set for me. “That way we’ll be connected even though a ferry stands between us.” (I’m assuming she meant ferry, not faerie, but with Jenny I really can’t be sure.) We gathered reeds while Tupper lifted his leg with wild abandon, christening trees, logs, rocks and once, in a moment of delirium, my leg. (Fortunately, he was all peed out by then, doing the lifts just for show.) After forty-five minutes, we headed home and Jenny said, “We really should let them dry out overnight. How about staying longer?”
Awkward.
And so we wove reeds that weren’t ready to weave. I cut my fingers twice. (Paper cuts are nothing!) “Oh, that’s good for you,” Jenny informed. “Very medicinal.”
After three hours, Jenny had four placemats and I had something that looked like a warped coaster. “You can take mine with you. I can always make more.” All I could think was that Jenny would never be able to visit my apartment again because the first thing she’d ask would be, “Where are those placemats I wove?” and our friendship would die when I told her I turfed them at the ferry terminal. No way was I going to bring home a set of nests harboring aphids and invisible insects.
Of course, with no clocks in the cottage, it wasn’t until I peeked at my cell phone that we realized the Roberts Creek festivities were done. Frankly, my entire Sunshine Coast celebration felt done and I just wanted to catch the ferry, but Jenny rushed us into her VW Bug and we glimpsed the torch in Gibsons. Have to admit I got caught up in the moment. Got closer to the flame than I imagined possible and tried to snap a decent photo, but I mostly got a lot of shots of people’s arms raising their digital cameras over their heads. It’s a safe bet that my new career will not involve photography.
Shouldn’t really indulge myself with a latté this morning, but I need a little pampering after my visit with Jenny from the Bog. Must face reality today and check my bank balance. Have a feeling I have to make the (temporary?) switch from Terra Breads to Wonder bread and from Starbucks to, gasp, Folgers.
Maybe I could’ve sold those damn placemats.
KEN’S JOURNAL (via BlackBerry):
LESSON: A PHOTO CAN BE SO DECEIVING. THAT PICTURE OF MARIBETH SHE POSTED ONLINE THAT I SAID MADE HER LOOK 28, NOT 40? WELL, IT HAD TO HAVE BEEN TAKEN, OH, 20 YRS AGO. TURNS OUT SHE RUNS A TANNING BED BUSINESS. LET’S JUST SAY SHE SHOULDN’T BE IN ANY OF THE ADVERTISING. WASN’T THERE A FREAKISHLY TANNED OLDER LADY IN “THERE’S SOMETHING ABOUT MARY”? I KEPT WANTING TO ASK, “WAS THAT YOU?” RIGHT NOW I AM SO TURNED OFF OF LEATHER. MAY HAVE TO DONATE MY SOFA TO GOODWILL.
TO BE HONEST, I DON’T THINK SHE WAS ANY MORE IMPRESSED W/ME. I WAS BUMMED BY THE CANUCKS LOSING TO THE SENATORS—AND BY THE FACT I LOST $500 ON A BET W/MY COUSIN BLAKE IN OTTAWA—AND I THOUGHT SHE COULD COMMISERATE AS A FAN. NO. SHE KEPT GOING ON ABOUT SOME DEAD ACTRESS NAMED BRITTANY SOMEBODY. NOT SPEARS, I LEARNED AS SHE LAUGHED IN MY FACE. SO I’M NOT THAT UP ON ENTERTAINMENT NEWS?! ONLY EVER WATCHED “ET” TO CHECK OUT MARY HART’S LEGS AND NOW THAT SHE’S, WHAT,…70?, IT’S A LITTLE CREEPY TO STILL SNEAK A PEEK.
SAFE TO SAY THERE WASN’T A LOVE CONNECTION B/W US. IT’S ONLY THE 1ST ONLINE ATTEMPT. LIKE THE SITE SAYS, THERE’S PLENTY OF FISH, RIGHT?
WHAT IS THEY’RE ALL CATFISH?
LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You need to deal with a financial issue that feels like a speed bump -- but could actually become a major obstacle! Once you see the depth of it, you should know exactly what to do. It takes time, though.
Laura’s Log:
Good to be home. Catching up with Jenny was wonderful, but I missed my flushing toilet. And my own space. Why is it that I always feel like I’m suffocating after only one night sharing the same space? Maybe I’m more like Marella than I realize. We’ll be two spinsters who move into my parents’ house and all the neighborhood kids will say, in hushed tones, that we’re witches. Marella would love that. Buy a black cat for good measure.
Missed the torch relay in Roberts Creek. Mid-morning Jenny decided it would be fun to walk in the woods, collect leaves and weave natural placemats—a set for her and a set for me. “That way we’ll be connected even though a ferry stands between us.” (I’m assuming she meant ferry, not faerie, but with Jenny I really can’t be sure.) We gathered reeds while Tupper lifted his leg with wild abandon, christening trees, logs, rocks and once, in a moment of delirium, my leg. (Fortunately, he was all peed out by then, doing the lifts just for show.) After forty-five minutes, we headed home and Jenny said, “We really should let them dry out overnight. How about staying longer?”
Awkward.
And so we wove reeds that weren’t ready to weave. I cut my fingers twice. (Paper cuts are nothing!) “Oh, that’s good for you,” Jenny informed. “Very medicinal.”
After three hours, Jenny had four placemats and I had something that looked like a warped coaster. “You can take mine with you. I can always make more.” All I could think was that Jenny would never be able to visit my apartment again because the first thing she’d ask would be, “Where are those placemats I wove?” and our friendship would die when I told her I turfed them at the ferry terminal. No way was I going to bring home a set of nests harboring aphids and invisible insects.
Of course, with no clocks in the cottage, it wasn’t until I peeked at my cell phone that we realized the Roberts Creek festivities were done. Frankly, my entire Sunshine Coast celebration felt done and I just wanted to catch the ferry, but Jenny rushed us into her VW Bug and we glimpsed the torch in Gibsons. Have to admit I got caught up in the moment. Got closer to the flame than I imagined possible and tried to snap a decent photo, but I mostly got a lot of shots of people’s arms raising their digital cameras over their heads. It’s a safe bet that my new career will not involve photography.
Shouldn’t really indulge myself with a latté this morning, but I need a little pampering after my visit with Jenny from the Bog. Must face reality today and check my bank balance. Have a feeling I have to make the (temporary?) switch from Terra Breads to Wonder bread and from Starbucks to, gasp, Folgers.
Maybe I could’ve sold those damn placemats.
KEN’S JOURNAL (via BlackBerry):
LESSON: A PHOTO CAN BE SO DECEIVING. THAT PICTURE OF MARIBETH SHE POSTED ONLINE THAT I SAID MADE HER LOOK 28, NOT 40? WELL, IT HAD TO HAVE BEEN TAKEN, OH, 20 YRS AGO. TURNS OUT SHE RUNS A TANNING BED BUSINESS. LET’S JUST SAY SHE SHOULDN’T BE IN ANY OF THE ADVERTISING. WASN’T THERE A FREAKISHLY TANNED OLDER LADY IN “THERE’S SOMETHING ABOUT MARY”? I KEPT WANTING TO ASK, “WAS THAT YOU?” RIGHT NOW I AM SO TURNED OFF OF LEATHER. MAY HAVE TO DONATE MY SOFA TO GOODWILL.
TO BE HONEST, I DON’T THINK SHE WAS ANY MORE IMPRESSED W/ME. I WAS BUMMED BY THE CANUCKS LOSING TO THE SENATORS—AND BY THE FACT I LOST $500 ON A BET W/MY COUSIN BLAKE IN OTTAWA—AND I THOUGHT SHE COULD COMMISERATE AS A FAN. NO. SHE KEPT GOING ON ABOUT SOME DEAD ACTRESS NAMED BRITTANY SOMEBODY. NOT SPEARS, I LEARNED AS SHE LAUGHED IN MY FACE. SO I’M NOT THAT UP ON ENTERTAINMENT NEWS?! ONLY EVER WATCHED “ET” TO CHECK OUT MARY HART’S LEGS AND NOW THAT SHE’S, WHAT,…70?, IT’S A LITTLE CREEPY TO STILL SNEAK A PEEK.
SAFE TO SAY THERE WASN’T A LOVE CONNECTION B/W US. IT’S ONLY THE 1ST ONLINE ATTEMPT. LIKE THE SITE SAYS, THERE’S PLENTY OF FISH, RIGHT?
WHAT IS THEY’RE ALL CATFISH?
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