Of pining and peer pressure
I cooked for the 8.75 Smiths last night. I have never seen kids eat with such gusto. I just made cottage pie with a lame salad*. Granted the cottage pie is gorgeous** but that rail thin 12 year old girl ate a plate that would make a 1.98m guy steel himself and contemplate a really severe hike. They are really nice people. I now understand the comment you made about the champagne cork response in Sunday school. All the kids sound like they should be acting in a Merchant Ivory movie. I guess there is something to be said for home schooling. I would love to know where they get it from – the mom sounds English but definitely not to that degree and the dad, although clearly very smart, is just as obviously Afrikaans. Oh and carob is surprisingly lovely stuff!
I’m being sweetly peer pressured to watch Fireproof. The more they mention it the more I balk, of course. I just know that if I watch this thing it will rip out what little of my heart has staggered sheepishly back to my chest. For goodness sake…I can’t even watch on screen kisses and have to avert my eyes whenever couples I know show love. ME. I used to be hardcore dammit. I left a trail of bloodied hearts and conquered bodies behind me that would make both Ishtar and Lillith sit up and take notice. But you. In you I saw a glimpse of love. Real love. The kind that makes people stay together their whole lives and then die within months of one another.
I miss you so much. Please speak to me? I promise that I will not say stupid words of love. Hell I will scrub my vocabulary of anything even vaguely associated with affection. Just please talk to me again. I miss your words. I miss being a tourist in your mind. I miss how your integrity shines through in every word you write. I miss your sandy wit. I miss your soppy taste in music. I miss hearing your voice. I miss talking to you when you are driving to work and should so not be smsing regardless of predictive texting or snail snarl traffic. I miss being able to tell you of my every joy and change in the weather. I miss seeing Tom’s Thumb in my inbox – I used to savour every word. I would purposely read slowly so that it would last longer – I miss being able to look into your eyes and not veil mine. I miss being able to share small things with you. Ugh. I need to stop thinking about this now.
I am such a freaking masochist. I will just throw myself into some more software documentation. Maybe my unique little snowflakeness can be poetic SoW’s.
- Word of the day: bewoë
- Insight of the day: We are not unique little snowflakes. I’ve been trawling the interwebs and little things like footnotes or quoting experimental poets are more prevalent than my elitist little mind imagined. I shouldn’t be surprised and yet every time I am confronted with exactly how like everyone else I am, I am just that. So weird how that leaves me feeling comforted and wryly smiling.
- State of the pool: Sloshy. Wanting so very badly to condensate and be clouds.
- Random thought: How much data does Google Reader consume? Is it less or more than actually visiting the site?
- Awesomest line: Earworm again*** Colin Hay – I just don’t think I’ll get over you.
- Scripture line: Oh just all of Ephesians. Not kidding.
* Which was only saved from 70’s mediocrity by roasted seeds and slices of firm pear.
** It was clearly not humble pie.
***I’m reading saccharine fantasy ok. It is to me the literary version of a blanky.
Tagged with: heartbreak • piningRecent Entries
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- Of teeth grinding frustration and the sheer awesome that is Google Wave
- Of stumbling down memory lane or how memory shapes personality
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