The Day That Felt Delicious

A warmy, sunny, laundry day. But first! I hung a clothes line. And dried, by the magic air, our linens fine.
I felt so good I took some self portrait, of a smile almost forgotten, but not quite. I found it there. Towards the back, with the dreams I dared, for so long, not to dream. For fear they burst, and hurt, the slight bubble of hope in my heart.
And then, whats more, my dearest one made dinner for us two, and too we watch films, charming-- John Waters' Hairspray, Juno. Then David Bowie music videos while in her hair I wove and wrapped four colors nice and tight. And in the end the day, it felt delicious.

SHAMELESS:

As you know, I am getting married the end of this month (the 27th to be exact). And if you would happen to need gift ideas I have one minute suggestions:

THIS SITE, anything from this site would make me roll over in bliss and probably beg you to allow me to bear your children-- in gratitude.

How sweet it is.

The sweetest moment is happening in my living room right now. Josh and Delilah are asleep. Josh and Delilah are asleep in the tent we set up earlier in the night. We wanted to go camping but we didn't make it past the front door. The tent takes up practically the whole living room. Inside is a pallet of countless blankets, most importantly inside are two beings that light up my world. I'm going to go snuggle.

Magic quartz and sand.

It is Saturday and we spend the beautiful day together at the lake, with the littlest one-- Delilah dog. She falls in love with the water and the sand at the very tip of the point. The portion of the peninsula that juts into the water, merging sand with navy liquid. She would venture into the water splashing as long as she could before leaving its near freezing temperatures. Then, then she would run, she would jump, she would dance up the bank to the sand. There in the sand she would frolic and completely cake herself with the grainy warm goodness. I joined her in the water, letting my feet sink into the sand beneath the glassy surface until I had to remove them because of the temperature, then I would bury them in the warmth of the sand, its cells capturing each bit of heat offered by the sun and keeping it safe below its surface. My feet flushed pink from the chill of the water, almost matching the pink of my polished toenails.
You played too, but didn't take your shoes off. You stood on the very edge of the sand bank and allowed yourself to sink. And I laughed, and we laughed, at each other and at the DeeDee dog. Our laughter surely made the air a bit warmer that day.

It is late, and we are getting ready for bed. You are in the bathroom shaving and I am laying in the bedroom with my new book, reading. You call my name, and say, "You have to see this!" I get up and walk into the bathroom and you are holding what looks like a thirty-year old dead rat that was forced down a pipe-- the color of something purified. You say, "Look what I pulled out of our sink." I'm not sure exactly what concocted that mass, one can only imagine that it must have been years and years of soap scum and hair (thinking positively). Nevertheless, you fixed it, and now that sink, our sink, drains beautifully.