Deuces

It's sort of hard to describe when you are filled with anxiety.   Because the anxiety stems from all the things you are uncertain about...   and uncertainty drives me a bit... anxious.   Lately... I can't seem to read anyone's mind... I cannot seem to intuit what other people are thinking, I cannot tell what keeps my husband glued to his phone at all hours of the day and why his Whatsapp chat is so intriguing since he and his friends just verbally abuse each other 24/7 and use British curse words in rapid succession and I cannot fathom how that is so interesting.   I cannot figure out Google Drive. I did figure it out and then I forgot and then I reminded myself and then I forgot again when I needed it and every time I forget one of these things there is someone there to remind you that you are not very bright.   "Did you save it to the Google Drive?"   And I just wish they could see the blank stare that I give as I stare back at my comput

I woke up in a great mood.   It must have been the great run I had last night, or the surprise flowers my husband brought home which shocked me so much I had to ask "are these my first ever surprise flowers?" to which he proudly replied "yea!".   And I honestly can't tell you why out of all the current songs I could wake up thinking about I started hearing this song in my head  upon waking at 5 a.m.   My mind thinks it's Friday.  I don't have the heart to tell it the truth... that it is only 6 a.m. Thursday... that we have to get off this couch and get ready for work soon.    My mind isn't quite ready for the shock of the emails that are waiting for us.   But tomorrow... sometime after the work bell tolls (you know... I mean, the pretend one in my head...), I will get a chance to visit with girlfriends for dinner and cocktails.  But before then let's recap some of the week's highlights, shall we?   With the Birthday G

It's got to be the mall's fault. Ariel and I were reconnecting after several days apart so we decided the healthiest way to spend that time was by doing a significant amount of cardio via shopping (extensive lifting of new clothing items and trying new things on can wear a girl down).   And everywhere I looked I was reminded that Valentine's Day is coming. And ever since then I can't get all the baby-making jams out of my head.  Little known facts: Historians actually attribute the first RnB songs to San Valentín, the patron saint of getting it on.   He and Keith Sweat wrote "Make it Last Forever" on a napkin while riding a train with Marvin Gaye.    It's true.  Look it up. And it started with a tame, romantic visit to this new XO song...  which I love. But things started to escalate with Janet Jackson's Anytime, Anyplace. and I have been teetering back and forth between old skool Jodeci and my singer crush, Usher.   And when I

I had to ask my husband the obvious question on everyone's no one's mind.   "Why do you think you still love me after all these years?"   And I was half smiling as I asked it, and he was half laughing as he immediately responded:   "Because I never know what I'm going to get with you".   Which is his way of saying I am a loose cannon, I guess.   But I always know he loves me,   even when I am an asshole, and I'm usually trying to wrap my head around why he can muster up so much adoration for someone who is constantly complaining about how much ditry laundry he creates (and leaves all over the floor...).   And I had to ask him as he found me huddled in bed, my buns and thighs still achy and sore from too many power squats and jump lunges.  I was coccooning.  I was reflecting. And I was trying to hide when he cornered me.   He was wearing one of the shirts I bought him for Christmas.  A maroon-colored polo.  I can co

The Devil is in the details,   But there's an Angel in there too.   It's all the nuances and things I notice about you.  It's some of the latest favorite things.   Sayler, I love when you ask questions.  And you will cock your head to the side, let your eyes wander right while your head faces me and your eyebrows will furrow the way they do when you are legitimately curious.   And after you have received a satisfactory answer you will respond, simply,   "oh."   And it is sweet, and cute and your little voice can melt my heart.  You have me at "Oh".   And when you are being cheeky and mischievous your eyes will trail left while you smile wide. You know you are funny. You know you are sly and cunning.  And tonight as I sternly told you I would open your Skittles (aka "littles") only once we were well on our way home from grocery shopping you let me know, with smug satisfaction, "mommy, I did it a'self" w

So it started a few days ago when I reached out to some of my best girls and confessed I needed a pick me up toot suite.   "Please make me laugh or smile...I could really use it". And without asking me why I needed it they came back, in rapid fire, with the following: And the one that might have made me laugh the loudest (because it's quite the inside reference these days): And not long after that I got a text from one of my favorite colleagues who reminded me of a special moment: And finally catching up with Ariel: And the most priceless smile-inducer was this face that I missed so much while I was away (I know your uterus aches just wanting one this cute): These are some of my best girls.  Don't you wish you had best girls as great as my best girls?

I woke up late. I missed my flight I was racing to get my things in order, frantically throwing items into my luggage in my hotel room. The feeling of despair consumed me. As I rolled up my luggage I wondered how long it would be before a new flight home would be available once I got to the airport. And then I woke up. I was already on the first leg of my flight home, in a sky floating somewhere between Tampa and Denver. I had nodded off and had this dream. I let the relief wash over me before resting my head again sideways, staring out the window.  I watched the clouds roll past for a short while longer before letting myself drift back to that murky place somewhere between sleep and confusion. I blame the long work days.  I blame the way I over-think. I blame the time zone difference. I blame the 4 lemon drops and 2   3 4 beers I had on Thursday night. I blame the efforts it took to pack all of my belongings while feeling nauseated, and wondering

I have been thinking of pancakes and eggs. I don't know why. But the craving hasn't subsided, though I cannot say it has intensified... it just remains... in appetite purgatory. I have craved this pairing a few days now. And I am not a pancakes kind of gal, so I am a bit befuddled by it creeping into my psyche, every day, throughout the day. I wouldn't call it torture or taunting, I would call it unfinished business. And today I couldn't help but wonder whether it was the pancakes and eggs I wanted, or whether what I wanted was the idea of a long, leisurely breakfast with someone. And as I sit here, at midnight, unable to sleep before an early a.m. flight, I know that there is something more meaningful worth writing about, and yet, these pancakes and eggs won't leave me alone... Because a long, indulgent, carbohydrate-rich breakfast is usually shared by people who have time to sit and enjoy one another's company.

Ariel is on her way over, I couldn't be happier. I called and asked if she could bring me coffee, because the coffee from the coffee pot 10 feet away just won't do. She's bringing it, and I couldn't be happier. I am wrapping up a busy work morning, and I couldn't be happier. And when I want to enjoy a country song, I do it when I am alone, quietly tapping away at the computer or driving along the highway since most of the people I know and love aren't country fans. And lately, though it isn't a new song,  I am re-hooked on  this ZBB song The song couldn't make me happier. We will go for an afternoon run, Ariel and I, and though it seems impossible, it will make me even happier.

My New Year is starting quietly. It's a nice way to start the year. I slept soundly after midnight fireworks where outside I sat with neighbors and my daughter sleeping heavily on my chest. As I stared into the night sky with the brilliant lights creating illusions of small fires impossibly burning into a vast, dark ocean, I thought of you.  It was beautiful, and the warmth of Sayler's matted hair resting under my chin, close, almost uncomfortably, forced my head upward toward those flickers in the dark open and it all made me feel secure, safe, loved. As the clock struck midnight the neighbors leaned in for those awkward, half-hugs that you give a person holding a sleeping toddler and wished a Happy New Year.  I wished, then, that it would be a happy new year.  I promptly retreated home where Sayler fell into my pillow and blankets and I passed out shortly thereafter.  I awoke hours later.  Many hours later.