Saturday, March 27, 2010

"Carry On", please.

Just noticed my penmanship on the chalkboard. This is a nice home to come home to (drunk). Okay, I'll take it. Just spent a strange, strange evening smoozing soberly with a Conservative family of Christmas past. "We just shipped to Egypt", oh dear. Just when I was readying myself for termination, Jill and Sula showed up, rolled in; all of us raging against something (me raging against my body's sick and them against their own demons). We were all wearing black too, which was interesting. True to forever form, screwdrivers have always got me beat. It was a weird night, but it was nice being in their company. Hula hooping rejuvinated me/us. We blew that pop stand when the crowd turned hostile and didn't hesitate for a moment to take the party along with us. Party of three.

I bought a dozen tiny donut holes on the walk/run home. And chocolate milk--another thing I can't get enough of these days. Chocolate milk, and cereal, and sleeping in, and music mornings, and yerba mate (I KNOW), and hanging out with my new cat (I KNOW), and riding my bicycle, and being with my beauty. Life is really good. 2010, a year of god knows what. So far, a year of highs. I'll take that too.

Tomorrow is my sale. TRIM THE FAT Sale in honor of Loco, who gave me those three words a long, long, long time ago; and also to JJ who embodies a brave face against/for change. Thank you, Loco. Thank you JJ. Loco, you are my one and only university friend and I couldn't be more pleased to pick up where we left off (but this time in the Land of Talk). JJ, you have seen me at my darkest (and I you) and yet you still trust me (and I you). We will be fine. To all of you reading this now (in whatever moment of whichever day), I wish you could have been there, I wish you would have come, you most definitely should have come to be with me in costume, partaking and enjoying the many people dragging my shit away from a beautiful place that used to be my home (I fell in love in that home! I learned what light was in that home)! to their own homes. Good bye track bike. I loved you very much. I don't need you anymore. Good bye clothes of my closet in the kitchen, bon voyage. Vinyl. Who cares. I am looking forward to seeing it all march out the door. Just twenties in between my fingers. Twenties to pay down and own up before I go, up and away into the bush. I will miss everything. Even more this time. Especially now that I have had a taste of the nectar. But, I will come back. I always do.

Trim. The. Fat.

I have paired down again, and again, and AGAIN. Three times in a fiscal year, that is nuts. No wonder I am the way I am. But in all my packing and my fine labeling and my chaos and my hard work in the woods by my lonesome, and my lost money and my fliffed cash and my post-everything woes and my hunger, I found this wonderful man who makes me laugh in the mornings because of nothing more than the way that singing bear marked deep in his skin looks against his crumpled sleeping face in the early light. That is enough. He had me at Buffy Sainte-Marie. I laugh because it makes the most sense. It is a deeply appreciative and quiet laugh. More of a laughing smirk.

With that and now school, forever creeping change keeps pressing against my body and through that, also my internal compass. Forever pressing, prodding, testing buttons of self control. Do this, no do this, try this, no, really, do this! So many exciting options left and right without a complaint in the world. I keep a list on fading yellow cardstock in my momwallet. The last point on the list reads: practice self control. Which is something I need to continually work on. \

Now my mind is on JF and S in their sweetheart tops and mesh triangles, galavanting on the arm of the handsomest devil in the Exchange (save for my handome devil). We laughed and peppered him with questions in my living room, one after the other, a round table of women. The poor guy. S left and I went to mine in thought, and JF continued unabated, taken. It was a refreshing sight. All the more reason to run home. Run home to my kitchen, to my tub, to my man. All of the above.

I finally have a kitchen. Life is real good.

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