Come and rest your bones with me...

Sunday morning rain is falling
Steal some covers share some skin
Clouds are shrouding us in moments unforgettable
You twist to fit the mold that I am in
But things just get so crazy living life gets hard to do
And I would gladly hit the road get up and go if I knew
That someday it would bring me back to you
That someday it would bring me back to you
That may be all I need
In darkness she is all I see
Come and rest your bones with me
Driving slow on sunday morning
And I never want to leave
(Maroon 5)

I hear the front door open, and a soft voice calls out my name. I call out that I am on the computer. Silently he dips around the door and plants a kiss on my cheek, “You should tell everyone how our luck has changed.” Chagrined, I don’t even tell him that I don’t often blog about him. I guess perhaps it is time to discuss him. All the first kisses and such have long passed. I was scared to discuss first dates. As if the failing of each new relationship would be too much. So I waited. It has been quite a while now. But I waited. I guess now is the time to begin sharing.

So wish me luck……

Friday's Child

(photo is of New Orleans during the hurricane, but it seems about right to me.)

giving you salty tears. It has been a bad week. Usually I try not to share too much of my drama. I have been accused in the past of trying to solicit pity. But this week has just been a series of bad events.

I stop to get gas. Pay, pump, and jump in the car. Slide my key in the ignition and nothing. Just silence. I wait. Say a silent prayer and then turn the key again. Nothing. I curse. Foul words pouring from my mouth as I dig for my cell phone. Luckily a quick call to the boy produces results. He comes and helps me get the car moving. Following day and several dollars later, it is working again.

Next, I spent the day at the mechanics’, finally making it into work several hours late. Drive home in my newly repaired car, in the pouring rain. Praying through several flooded streets that my car would make it home. I get home and find that my – wait for it – entire apartment is flooded. Ankle deep water covers the entire place. I make another frantic call and secure a wet vac. 30+ gallons of water, several hours with a broom and towels, and I manage to empty all the water out. Luckily just a pile of paperbacks and a picture of me as a teenager in New Orleans is all that is lost.

Lastly, this morning my sweet Great Dane, Bishop had to be put to sleep. Words seem to fail me at this point. And no one is coming to save the day.

Hopefully that is my three bad things, and I will move on to happier times.

You think you know me....

I am a very private person. Though many in my life might question this, I think that if they paused for a moment of brief introspection, they would understand that this is truly the case. I will turn to friends regarding problems, but generally when I turn to these friends they only get half the story. There will be exclusions to the story. Not to influence their opinions, as I often want their honest opinions, but simply because I do not find certain little facts to be jejune to the situation. These same people would also come to realize that they do not know the basics about me. The likes and dislikes, stories of the past, the general every day trivial things that people discuss, I do not. That is private stuff, and not something that I feel I need to discuss. People will comment that they know me well, and I just smile. Not many know me, the private slippery me. So imagine my surprise when sitting across from a friend, a pitcher of margaritas slowly melting between the two of us. My friend looks at me and says “You can’t feel your nose can you?” I am stunned. How do they know my drunken tell? And do they really know me so well that just sitting across from me – watching my face, they suddenly understood that I was at that stage in the evening. It is always an odd scare feeling for me, to suddenly realize that someone knows more than I want them to. I start thinking about how I can get rid of them. Like a player in the cold war, I want to change identities, relocate, and vanish into the mist.