White Newness
I finally received my new phone! It only took 4 days longer than it should have. First world problems, though, right? I couldn't be beyond more thrilled. I'm also tickled because it's my mothers first time having a smart phone. She has a tablet already, so the transition is not horrible. I think I wanted it for her because of the pictures. We send pictures of Caiden back and forth through our family almost daily, and now she can really see them. And really take them herself, on her phone, and send them to us. It makes me smile. And she can access facebook. She's been away from her friends... almost since Caiden has been with us. I'd like for her to connect more easily when she is out.
I'm going to shave Bailey's butt. As I was typing the above paragraph, I noticed her fighting with dingle berries. It's not her fault that it's fucking below freezing and her winter coat is growing out of her ass.
We really need three day weekends. The first day (Saturday) should be completely devoted to recovery. No matter how hard I try, I can't get anything done. I'm just so thankful that I'm not at work. I'm mired in thanks. It's not anything I can get around. The second day should be devoted to getting crap done and the third should be recovery and preparation from actually doing stuff and preparing your mind and soul to going back to the grind. I should write a letter.
On a different note. The subject of "I Love You"
I think poetry was created by heavy love.
I think a feeling person can feel an array of emotions in three seconds flat.
Especially.... More than especially... when an I love you is said during sleep.
From love to rage to sadness to love to doubt to ecstasy to resignation to love to exhaustion to pain to happiness to vindication to beauty.
And then you breathe... and the second hand on your watch starts ticking again.
But you don't forget and you don't move forward.
You can either turn it into sadness and worry at it like a cut on your tongue or you can accept it. Cherish it and put it away.
"I love you too." You say into silence while the moon keeps you company.
I'm going to shave Bailey's butt. As I was typing the above paragraph, I noticed her fighting with dingle berries. It's not her fault that it's fucking below freezing and her winter coat is growing out of her ass.
We really need three day weekends. The first day (Saturday) should be completely devoted to recovery. No matter how hard I try, I can't get anything done. I'm just so thankful that I'm not at work. I'm mired in thanks. It's not anything I can get around. The second day should be devoted to getting crap done and the third should be recovery and preparation from actually doing stuff and preparing your mind and soul to going back to the grind. I should write a letter.
On a different note. The subject of "I Love You"
I think poetry was created by heavy love.
I think a feeling person can feel an array of emotions in three seconds flat.
Especially.... More than especially... when an I love you is said during sleep.
From love to rage to sadness to love to doubt to ecstasy to resignation to love to exhaustion to pain to happiness to vindication to beauty.
And then you breathe... and the second hand on your watch starts ticking again.
But you don't forget and you don't move forward.
You can either turn it into sadness and worry at it like a cut on your tongue or you can accept it. Cherish it and put it away.
"I love you too." You say into silence while the moon keeps you company.