Encouragement

Tomorrow GPOM has a tricky quiz in logic.  I'll admit, I don't remember what 'if and only if' is in a symbol.  I do know.  In case this ever occurs in your life, it's an equals sign with a third line over the top.

The point is, I trust that he is so much better at this work than he does.  I try to tell him how much of which he is capable, but he has a blind spot for anything mathematical.

Yet, he's quite good at math.  He just doesn't trust himself at it yet.  He should, and hopefully he will.

How did we end up with this mistrust in ourselves?  If I could give us (I mean you as well) one gift, it'd be that you must trust you.  Because you're awesome.  Because you've survived situations that many others could not.  Because you're still here, which means things CAN only get better.

Good luck tomorrow, my love.

Laundry

This trip involved a lot of figuring out the details.  Details such as, "You keep too much crap in my bathroom and it freaks me out."  Well, GPOM, it takes a lot to look as good as I do. 

Still, because I am a good person, I didn't overreact much.  (Too much.  OK, I grabbed everything out, threw it all into my suitcase, and screamed, "Fine!  Are you happy now?"  Because I never overpersonalize anything.)

I told GPOM while he was headed out the door that I would handle the laundry.  Some people hate doing laundry.  I kinda hate doing laundry.  OK, I don't hate it, but I'd much rather check in on Real Housewives than do anything that involves domestic violence work.

I have a special place for the handling of the laundry.  Let me explain...at some point when I was in college, I had a lovely lingerie set from Victoria's Secret.  The bra and front part of the panties (you probably should've stopped reading by now) were satin, and the behind-coverage was cotton.  Gorgeous.  Simply gorgeous.  I came home for a weekend to my parents' place, and placed my accouterments into the loving hands of my mother - she who can wash anything, and whom I think might have invented Mother Saliva as a stain remover.  Unfortunately, my dad decided to help.  By putting bleach into that load of laundry.

My dress-up gear was ruined, and needless to say, I was F.U.R.I.O.U.S.

I hollered at my dad, and pointed out that this was an expensive set.  His response was that I shouldn't have spent so much on undergarments.

NOT. THE. POINT.

So I told GPOM that no matter what else I was willing to sacrifice in our home, I would always be in control of the laundry.

"Cool," he said.

Things I Thought Pre-, During, And After O'Hare

It is 3:30am and I am awake.
It is 4am and I am building a legal argument for why the gate at my complex really is a security gate, and not a gate for "traffic control" as my landlords states.  (Seriously.  I thought that exact sentence.  I then determined that I am a complete dork.  Who thinks these things?)
It's 4:44am.  Where is my ride?
It's 5am.  I'm at the airport already.  Damn, my ride drives fast.  Bless him.
It's 5:45am.  Why has the plane not taken off?
It's 5:48am.  Who hired this seventeen-year-old hipster to be a flight attendant?
It's 5:49am.  Dear hipster flight attendant:  You are not funny.  You are far too loud because the speaker is directly above my head, but you are not funny.
It's 6:01am.  I just broke the overhead light above my seat and it's dark out and I can't read and Oh God Oh God Oh God what am I going to do for two hours?

We made it to O'Hare unscathed.  The sun rose quickly and I was able to read.  The Room is an excellent book.  I will read it again because I am a speed reader so I'm sure that I missed some emotional details that haven't yet ripped out my heart.

I looked for my brother, the United pilot, all through the terminal but never saw him.  I was disappointed because we had totally agreed to high-five while passing each other on the moving sidewalk.  C'mon, you know that level of badassery is almost impossible to top.

There was a Pizzeria Uno stand in the terminal, but because it was 7:40am, it was not yet open.  Another disappointment.  I would've totally eaten uber-deep dish pizza in the morning had it been available.

I had the last seat on the left on the flight from Chicago to Seattle.  I have never had that many asses (literal asses) rub my shoulder in a five-hour period.  I hated that part.  I finally nodded off, only to get knocked awake (not rubbed, not tapped, but KNOCKED) by a woman with an unfortunate body fat distribution system.

I've still not recovered from jet lag and being awake for twenty-four hours.  But I'm here, and so is GPOM, and there have been very pleasant exchanges between us thus far.

Tomorrow Will Suck Then Not

People, 3:30am is a terrible time to wake up.  You know I don't sleep well anyway, so taking away any rest time is bound to make my eyeliner look more raccoon-ish than usual. 

I've got three books in my backpack, five more in my suitcase, and four waiting for me in Seattle.  Here's hoping I don't find anything other than another bottle of St. John to buy, or I'll have to pay another luggage fee.

Think good thoughts for me from here to Chicago to Seattle.

'Cos I once I get to Seattle there will be KISSES!

Butterflies Rising

So soon, so soon I go!  I'm very excited.  I'm a bit nervous about the amount of nerves I'm going to have tomorrow while I pack and try to remember everything.

Yes, I worry about upcoming worries.  You're suprised by this?

I just want to enjoy my time with GPOM.  I want to work hard on my cases when I'm not wrapped in love bubble, so I can relax into said love bubble.

I know I'm not making much sense.  I'm cool with that.  I've got a suitcase and travel-sized toiletries and Tina Turner's Simply The Best to guide my way.  And whatever I forget - there's stores in Seattle!

I hope to have the chance to write to you while I'm gone.  Maybe something silly like this?