Romance

 Today would have been my 16th anniversary. It's not. It's taking some work to move on.

Made me think of the most romantic points in my life, though. So here we go:

1. Bill and I dancing in the rain under a streetlight. 

2. Jason at my front door after so long, picking me up and swinging me in circles. 

3. Jim driving up to my work on Valentine's Day and laughing at my double take before I ran into his arms.

I miss love.

I Dunno, Maybe?

 I've been an attorney for going on 16 years. I can count the days on my fingers when I felt like I was effectual at it.

I have a case, currently, where there's no proof that my client did anything wrong. I've been going back and forth with the prosecutor as well as my client. I think I'll win.

Maybe I'm good at this.

This Took Far Too Long

 I've not written in slightly under forever. That's my fault. I think my last post was pushing 12 years ago.

To catch you up: After 15 years, we broke up. It was ugly, both verbally and physically. I'm still recovering. 

I'd love to kvetch about it; it's unwise. No guarantee about the future. 

Tonight I've been listening to music from the early 2010s. I guess those are the ones that touch my heart the most.

I just need to write again. 

Black Friday

Well, OK, it's not black outside, but it's quite grey, and I'm sitting here, playing on Amazon (totally waiting for the $97 TV) and doing laundry. Living the dream, as it were.

I've not been writing not because I don't have a lot to say, but because it's all so deeply personal and would probably make me sound like a nutball were you to read the words that are muddling through my brain. GPOM and I split up, I think I told you, and it's been strange to determine how to live. I spent over four years trying to arrange and rearrange myself to please and be pleasing to someone who had a mistress whom he loved (and loves) more than me. That's an ego burn of the highest degree, especially when his love is an inanimate object. Can't compete with that, yet I try and fail and wonder why I do and become my own armchair psychologist.

I'm sure you know how well that works.

But I'll try again, as I always do, to rebuild and write and think and dream. Until then, I've got a giant bag of Swedish Fish to tide me over.

Godmother

Today Momma and I were chatting on the phone about the upcoming birthdays of my brother and my nephew. She asked me what I was getting for my godchild.

My godchild? I have a godchild? Wade's oldest doesn't count because she never had her kids baptized, so I'm an unofficial godmother to him, but not to any others, I said.

Yes, dear, she sighed to me. Don't you remember?

Was I at the christening?

Yes.

Who's the godfather?

Your sister-in-law's brother.

Are you sure I'm his godmother? Because I really don't remember it and that seems like something I'd remember.

Yes, you are. Remember? You thought it was odd that the godfather didn't know the Apostle's Creed.

Sunlight...

Oh, crap! I am my nephew's godmother! Man, I've been a really shitty godmother!

Yes, dear...now do you want me to include this spider Lego in his birthday box?

Yes, please.

Catch Up

I've been away. There's been plenty afoot around this place. But here's the good/bad news: I've been writing in my head for a while, so there will be a flurry of posts coming up. Ready yourself.

In the meantime, is it your phone ringing, or mine?

Lazy August

It's Saturday, and I should be working. But first, Hi! How are you? I'm well; I'm a bad redhead. I spend a lot of money to keep my hair a color approximating red and today I just couldn't be bothered to use the specialty shampoos and conditioners that deposit more red into my hair. Today was a Garnier Fructis and John Frieda kind of day.

I find it very difficult to work on weekends. I've got four meetings on Monday and the day starts early, so I want to get ready for them this weekend. I don't want to run around Monday morning like a nut trying to get case files together, do last-minute research, and probably balance a giant trash bag. But still, everything in me says that I should spent today and tomorrow reading books, watching TV, and listening to podcasts while playing endless rounds of mah jongg solitaire. I'll figure it out though. It'll probably be tomorrow before I do anything.

I used to love Sundays. Sundays were days of talking with Momma, napping, acting foolishly - all the things I like best in a day. For the past month or so, though, Sundays have turned into an extension of Saturdays. This doesn't mean that Sundays are bad days, but they're not the same, and occasionally I resent that.

I don't use washcloths. I don't know why I felt the need to tell you that.