This should go on twitter, but whatevs:
R’s flight down here looks to be snowed in, so the happy reunion that was scheduled for tonight looks like it will be tomorrow instead. Sigh.
I thought this was the kind of thing global warming was supposed to be fixing.
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my world is sufficiently rocked.
after thirteen years without a word exchanged, mike and i are talking again.
yes, that mike.
and it’s as if the world is turned upside down for me. i’m still me, he’s still him, but we’re the grown-up versions – yet it doesn’t feel like that at all. it’s like a time warp. the things that were not good are better – so much better than i ever imagined they could be for him. he’s like, this amazing grown-up version of the person i used to know, and used to love.
and i don’t know what any of this means.
thirteen fucking years. we were children. so how could there even be anything there now? thirteen years ago i was a black-haired wannabe wild child with an attitude about everything and a fuckload of resentment for things i couldn’t name. i laugh at the me i was then. so why does it feel like coming home to talk to the yin to my yang during those times, when i am not the yang i once thought i was?
i feel drunk, but have not had a drop to drink. eeeeeek.
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After swimming today, Reed’s in the shower next to mine, humming.
I love that.
It’s one of those things that let you know a child has a song in his heart.
It is also one of those things that makes you wonder where, as an adult, your song has gone. I think I need to start listening closer.
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and here i am. i’m still alive, and i guess i am okay, but my world has shifted. i’m alone, in this house, by myself. the family i thought i created over the last three years is gone. what do i do next? i already feel lonely, and sad. i guess that will get better with time. even with the dogs -thank god for my dogs!- the house is so quiet, too quiet, and empty. i feel like a hermit. i’m scared that there will be days that go by that i don’t speak to anyone.
i also know that everything is going to be alright.
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I dislike buying Valentine’s Day cards. Anniversary cards, too, for that matter. It isn’t that I don’t think the occasions warrant celebration. Quite the opposite, in fact. Indeed, how could some schmaltzy copy writer convey the depth and breadth of my emotion and love, particularly in a quippy 4 x 6 card?
For example, on this past Valentine’s Day, I was out on my bike training in the insufferable cold and wind. It was a single degree above freezing, parts of me were freeezing, other parts of me were working so hard I was sweating. I just wanted to be done and warm. At the end of the ride, I pull up into the garage, hobble into the kitchen and what do I find? A pot of hot soup simmering on the stove, made by my beloved.
How are you going to capture that kind of awesomeness in a card?
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a soup card?
or a card made of hot soup?
alphabet soup!
oh wait, was your question rhetorical?
tripp :: feb 16 2009 :: 10:04 pm
perhaps these ’soup cards’ will capture a whole new market! i smell money…
rachael :: feb 17 2009 :: 9:27 am
Note to self: don’t write anything romantically personal on the ol’ personal blog anymore.
Tri__, that’s right, I’ve now taken away the last remaining ‘p’ from your name. R, your new to this game so I’ll be kinder and take your letters away selectively. Guess what? You’re now “Rachel” just like everybody else. Like you’re so special you get an extra ‘a’? What’s that all about?
To you both, thanks for ruining my moment. I expect you there to heckle me when I win an oscar, am voted the president of the United States and/or get my first book published.
On a not altogether unrelated note, my crack team of scientists has discovered that it would be possible to press dehydrated soups into card form. Thank you, though, for the thought about alphabet soup. We’ll be using that as the writing on the cards. Then when rehydrated, they’ll be sweet noodly goodness. Cheers!
ray :: feb 17 2009 :: 3:35 pm
And make no doubts, when I do make all that soupcard money, I will blog you to tell you all about it when … I’m on a boat!
ray :: feb 17 2009 :: 3:36 pm
No!
I’m just messing with you. If I had a dime for every person who has told me they love your posts, I would be a rich man. And could be on a boat too.
As is, your comment made me laugh. In a big meeting. And my boss IMs me and asks why I’m smirking in the middle of this big meeting.
So there, you got your revenge.
And I love your posts too. But sometimes you make it so easy. Esp when you end the post in a question. How can I not answer it?
tripp :: feb 17 2009 :: 4:29 pm
it wasn’t the post that spurred my snottiness, it was tripp’s comment. it is always his fault. please, may i have my ‘a’ back? i need it to be unique!
rachael :: feb 18 2009 :: 12:13 am
I guess it ruins the romanticism a bit to mention that you called to ask me to heat up said soup and I was a little peeved about it because I had to get up from eating my own lunch to make yours! :)
amy :: feb 18 2009 :: 9:47 am
oh, snap!
Ray, your carefully honed internet persona has just been dealt a huge blow. i think its going to take another post about your adorable kiddies to make your internet public forget about this.
rachael :: feb 18 2009 :: 12:46 pm
Perhaps, but you still made it and I’m still thankful. Honestly, I seldom ever get to sit down during a meal, so I’m not sure what you’re on about. =)
As for my adorable kiddies, it was just last night that Rebekah fell asleep halfway off her bed in an adorable praying position, lit softly by the wan light of the clock radio as the wind played gently through the trees outside …
ray :: feb 18 2009 :: 3:04 pm
Do you ever want to change the story, just to confuse her? I read years ago that Peter Greenaway ran all sorts of psych experiments on his kids when they were growing up…and I’ve been tempted ever since.
There is a running bet about how long it will take for my children to learn not to trust anything I say.
tripp :: feb 12 2010 :: 5:30 pm
*Insert snarky UTF8 comment here*
=)
Hee hee.
ray :: feb 16 2010 :: 10:14 pm