Thursday, January 12, 2012

... your mouth is poison, your mouth is wine ...

I have been very remiss in blogging, running, and almost every aspect of being a normal responsible adult lately. I have been to work, naturally. I’ve seen friends. I’ve even embarked on a timeshare adventure with a husky puppy (I get to walk her and coax her into being a sweet obedient puppy, but no costs are incurred other then gas to go pet her). Other then discovering The Civil Wars (late on that one) and being very angry with Santorum for … breathing …

NO, SERIOUSLY. I LOATHE THAT MAN. I will be going to vote in the primary SIMPLY to vote for SOMEONE ELSE, so I can contribute to his demise.

He says nasty things about pretty much everyone, racist comments, his extremely holier-than-thou, and don’t even get me STARTED on the ‘the only moral abortion is my WIFE’S abortion and NO ONE ELSE can have one EVER’.

Let more informed and (possibly?) less biased minds inform you of the specifics -

Thank goodness for his ‘little Google problem’.

In less … ummm … political and emotionally charged news …

Rain makes me want to lounge in bed all day next to someone, drinking tea, reading books, and giggling. This week’s weather has put me off kilter, as I haven’t had the luxury of being able to do any of those things.

I also got to pick someone up at the airport (Nick now owes me something pretty, as his flight was DELAYED and I sat there forever).  I love airports. They are magical, transformative places. Places you get to pass through and embark on an adventure – turn into a new person with a specific goal. No one knows who you are, and a few know where you’re headed. But NOBODY knows why other then the person who asks the obligatory ‘business or pleasure’ question.  You could be a spy, or a housewife, or someone having a torrid affair. A CEO or a down on your luck person who just got fired – running home to momma. The sense of freedom from the massive amount of stories, personal drama, anonymity, and separation from the known is intoxicating.  I was bodily sitting in a car, but mentally in Italy – on a piazza in Venice drinking a blood orange and champagne and eating the most delicious pizza ever while people-watching Italians.  I was in heaven there, with my moleskine, food, and pencils – writing, sketching, and reading in complete bliss. No one cared that my sketches looked like shit. No one cared that I got sunburned from sunbathing in my underwear in a vineyard.  No one cared that I was alternately blunt, crabby, wide-eyed, in love, and homesick. I was entirely within my own skin and I have never felt more powerful or more vulnerable. It was a perfect moment in time.

More extreme than, but similar to the first sip of my tea today, the kid who waved to me in the hall, the bit of sun peeking through the clouds, finding out about the child whose test scores increased by 33 points ... seconds of bliss.

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