Apples Peaches Pumpkin Pie

Apple peaches pumpkin pie,
Soon your love will be all mine.
Then I’m gonna take you home,
Marry you so you won’t roam.
Marry you so you won’t roam. Right now
I’ll find you anywhere you go,
I’m gonna look high and low.

I got home around 8:30 tonight from Mom & Dad’s. I’d had plans to come home early and get some things taken care of, but that didn’t happen.  Yesterday, I went to St. Jacob’s with Mom, Sis, and the nephews. Nephew3 runs away now. Mom was saying he’s one child who actually needs a harness. True dat, as Pretty would say. The little brat took off whenever he felt like it, trying to get into the buildings if we were out of them, and out of the buildings if we were in them.

I bought some cheese and some fruit and some summer sausage. I made a fruit salad tonight, and sliced all the cheese and summer sausage. Those will be lunch and breakfast items. I think I need more bagels, but the grocery stores were closed by the time I got home tonight.

Mom made whistledogs last night for dinner, and Grandma came in to eat with us. The whistledogs were flat-out fabulous. There isn’t anything better in the world than a hot dog smothered in cheese, bacon, ketchup, mustard, and homemade relish. Sis lost it, as usual, and took off with the boys around 8:30. In everyone’s defense, we were all pretty tired. Yesterday was a long day. Sis and I drove back to her house together, leaving Mom with the boys. Sis said she knew where she was going… *ahem*. Not so much. Doesn’t matter, we got there in the end, after heading too far south and west when we were trying to drive north and east.

Today Dad was going to go fishing, and when he told me he planned to take the canoe out, I asked if I could go, and extended my visit. We headed to Stokes Bay, and launched the canoe into a little tiny bay off Lake Huron. Well, there was one small problem. It was certainly easy enough to get out there, and Dad threw his line out and we drifted with the wind at a pretty good clip. About halfway across the bay, though, Dad realized we were in trouble. He realized it before I did, but it’s safe to say that he’s a far more experienced canoeist than I am.

The wind had picked up enough it was throwing the canoe across the water. Dad tried to turn it, and point the nose back into the wind, but he just couldn’t do it. Of course, as the weight in the front, it was my job simply to sit there and try to be as still as possible. There were a few times I was sure we were going overboard. Not that we were far from land, but that water would’ve been really damned cold. We ended up grounding out on the rocky beach across the bay, probably two or three kilometres from the car. At the end, Dad was taking on water at the back of the canoe because the waves were broadsiding us. We got out and stood there for a few minutes, and I took off south across the spit of land to see what was around the corner.

We ended up emptying the canoe, and portaging it for a kilometre before dropping it back in the water around the corner of the land. Of course, that was after we walked back again to fetch the life jackets, goodie bag, tackle box, oars, and fishing net. Dad said that if Uncle had been with him, they would have turned the damn thing and re-launched it directly back into the wind, but I wasn’t a strong enough paddler and I didn’t know enough of what I was doing to make that work. Poor Dad ended up paddling most of the way back to the truck, but at least the going was a little easier because we stuck closer to the shore. It was so chilly going into the wind, though, that my chin froze. And by that time, we both had sopping wet feet. Apparently I paddle too hard and it tips the canoe too much. He let me paddle when we got closer to shore, but I did very little to help.

I haven’t heard from Mud today, but I am not getting upset. Okay, sure I truly am, but I am exercising Chicago’s famous patience line. I actually had an argument with myself out loud on the way home. The guy who asks for my picture, is getting a passport, and spends 48 hours with me isn’t going to forget me anytime soon. I can let someone else set the pace for once. Blah blah blah.

Anyway, it was a long day, even if no fishing was accomplished. Time for sleep.

Millennium

Today is an anniversary for me.

One year ago today, on May 30, 2008, I blogged for the first time. I don’t have 365 entries. I haven’t blogged every day. But I have blogged most days, and I think that says something. I’ve recently started journaling again, too, and I think that also says something. I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to blog. I like to do it, and I’d like to think that people enjoy reading it, but the reasons are different now than they were back then.

Last year, I was blogging because I was telling four or five people the same thing over and over again. I was basically copying and pasting emails to Pretty, Johnny, Woodstock, Chicago, and T.. Blogging – and putting all the information in one spot – saved me a whack of time. Frankly, it was rather selfish of me. Johnny stopped reading; he said he found it too personal. I’m pretty sure T. doesn’t read it anymore; she has too much on her plate. Pretty and Chicago and Woodstock read every entry, but not every day.

So I guess now I’m blogging for me. I’m blogging more, now, about what I do, and less about how I feel. I’ve just become another in the gigantic list of selfish bloggers who are putting their own lives on the internet, wondering if anyone is interested. The likelihood that I’ll ever be able to make my living this way, as Dooce does, is slim to none. I’m not funny enough, and I don’t really have enough interest in crafting stories of my personal life to share with others. I write for me. The fact that there’s an audience sometimes is really just a bonus.

But at the same time, many things have changed over the past year. I’m on antidepressants. I’ve dated Hockey, Photog, TheGiant, and, I guess, maybe Mud? I’ve seen Curious1 only once or twice since last summer. My divorce is final, I’ve moved (again), and I’ve started a new role and a new job. I guess 2008 and the first half of 2009 haven’t been any more settled than 2007 was. The experiences keep making me who I am, and I appreciate that, but at the same time, it’s almost like, life, slow down, and just let me enjoy it. But I remember being in music class in high school, and the teacher told me that I rushed everything. I needed to learn to slow down. I remember a guidance counsellor telling me the same thing.

I guess that should be my goal for the rest of 2009. Now that I’m in a new apartment, a better apartment… Now that I’m not interested in random dating because it’s a royal pain in the ass… Now that I’m getting my broken brain fixed… Aw, hell. Who am I kidding? I’m still going to rush my life. I can’t help it, it’s part of who I am. I think, in some ways, sitting down and blogging about it slows me down. Makes me think about what I’m doing and what I’m going through. Debating with Woodstock, explaining to Chicago, venting to Pretty… And writing. It’s what makes me who I am.

Raise a glass to one year on the web for Blue. Live long and prosper, eh?

You Saved My Soul

We went together for so long
ev’ry second record on the radio seemed like our song
How we hurt each other; oh baby it was so wrong
something in the bottom of my heart will keep me holding on

’cause you saved my soul
you came along and took me out of the night time
Yeah you saved my soul
taught me to fly…and I gave my heart
and babe that’s something that there’s jut no returning
’cause if I have you now I’ll never have to make it alone.

All right, so TheGuy and I were working together at Candy Mountain tonight. And when we work together, we listen to country. So there I was, dusting one end of the store, and TheGuy was working at the other end of the store, so chatter was at a minimum. Instead, I listened to the radio. And let me tell you, every second song on the radio reminded me of Mud. I just had to shake my head and laugh, imagining what T. would think of all these crazy country songs about losing your love, riding a cowboy, falling in love…

Anyway. I did talk to Mud for an hour or so last night. And then today I bought a prepaid phone card. It was crazy! One thousand long-distance minutes for one cent per minute! What the hell is that about! I actually thought about changing my phone plan, but then I realized that the way I have it now might cost me more, but I save money in actual minutes. If I switched it, I’d lose my shirt paying for extra minutes.

I got the bank draft this afternoon to pay my grandmother back the rest of the money I owe her. One more thing done. I only owe a couple hundred on one student loan, too. So that should be paid off shortly. I really like having my safety money, but I’m seriously considering using the cash from CM to pay these debts off, instead. I’ll just keep a credit card free, and really, isn’t that wiser than sitting on the money, anyway? I’m not sure that one is better than the other.

I have this weird rash on my legs. It appeared when I was down South. It’s not itchy or anything, so I’m not terribly concerned, but it’s been there for about a week. I wonder if it’s A) a reaction to Mud’s laundry detergent, B) a reaction to shaving my legs for the first time in a month, or C) some sort of delayed reaction to the NAIR I’ve been using. I hope not, because my legs were getting woolly tonight and I NAIR’ed them. I guess I’ll ask Mom when I see her tomorrow at the Farmer’s Market.

Ohhhhh, and I asked for whistledogs for dinner at Mom & Dad’s tomorrow night, and they totally agreed. There is nothing in the world better than a whistledog made by your mom. Mmm, goodness!

Everything I Do

I was talking to Chicago today about Mud. A lot about Mud. Okay, so Chicago is my sounding-board for pretty much everything. Anyway, he let me tell him the things I couldn’t tell Mud. And then we discussed an email I wanted to send, and he told me to do it, but to wait. And lo and behold, I waited, and Mud sent me an email. Anyway. It won’t be the first time I’m saying this, and I hate to sound like a broken record, but it is hard to deal with the ups and downs. I’m not sure if I’m in a relationship or not. But even if I’m not, I got something that I’ve wanted for years, and it was better than I thought it would be.

I went to the gym tonight, and just did my twenty-five minutes as recommended by my trainer. My ass is killing me, my legs and back and chest are sore. But that’s all from yesterday morning. And the longer I sit in one place, the more I hurt. I expect tomorrow will be worse.

I’ve gone over my finances again, too. If I plan on living off of only the money that Hell brings in, I have to curtail my spending. A lot. I’m used to having that extra little bit from Candy Mountain, but if I want to save that and not use it, then I’m going to have to live like I don’t have it.

Otherwise, it’s nine, and I’m tired. I think I might keep Indigo with me, but go to bed and read for a while. I guess all the season finales have been on, and there’s nothing on TV. I feel like I’m losing brain cells, sitting in front of the stupid thing, when I should be spending time plotting how to get South. But a girl who’s already working two jobs can’t raise much more money… Time to forget about it for a bit, maybe, and be content with what I have right now, while keeping my goals in mind for the future.

Oh, who am I kidding? We all know I’m totally obsessed with this man. It hurts. It aches, because I know it could be different if I was just a measly four-hour flight away. Let the fates work in my favour, just once…

Can’t Stop This Thing We Started

I’m stuck on Mud. Can’t help it. Can’t get him out of my mind. The whole thing is floating around me. And surprisingly, most people are absolutely in favour of me doing what I need to do to get down South. Woodstock is the only one who’s really seriously questioned “why” and while I admit that I felt a frisson of anger when she asked, again, she makes me think. My response is purely emotional. It’s not a logical decision. So her question is haunting me a little, and I’m okay with that. I need it to keep me focused. What do I want versus what do I need versus what is really possible?

I spent the evening at AM2’s, doing laundry and talking to her. Not the gritty details about my week away, but who Mud is and why I like him. And surprisingly, she was on board. That was one person who I thought would call me crazy. Perhaps there’s something in my face or in my eyes when I talk about him; Pretty commented the other day that she could tell when I got back that things were different, and Chicago said my voice was different on my answering machine, too.

While I was talking to AM2, she asked how long until I’m out of debt. Like how long until my student loans and car are paid off. And you know what? It’s only four years. I know that’s a long time, and I don’t want to wait four years to change my life. But in the grand scheme of things, if my life doesn’t significantly change, and I don’t get laid off or fired and my income remains stable, at this rate, I will have paid off my student loans and my car in four years. They amortize our student loans over nine years, and I graduated in 2002 and started paying them back in 2003. The car loan was refinanced last September or October for four years. So I’m making progress. I hadn’t thought of it; a few more years of really hard work, and I’ll be in the clear.

And at the risk of getting mushy, I was thinking the other night about how … intimate it is to sleep next to someone. Just to sleep with someone. Nothing else. I think it requires a level of trust that you don’t even find when you’re having sex with someone. You’re giving that person permission to see you at your potential worst and most vulnerable. The snoring, the bad breath, the bad hair and morning wrinkles. You’re opening yourself up, offering your body at its softest and most easily hurt. And when you wake up, and you don’t feel anything except happiness that that person is lying beside you, maybe, just maybe, you have something special there.

Money, Money, Money

Okay, with my complete inability to write about Mud in this space, what I can tell you is that he texted me first tonight, and I ended up calling him, and now my phone bill is going to be… wait, what’s 72 times 30 cents per minute? You know what? It doesn’t matter. Pretty is the Math one, not me. So I don’t have to care until I get the bill. But I’m guessing I should invest in a calling card. I think I should ask Chicago about them, since I know nothing about how they work.

And then, when I got off the phone, and finished making the tuna pasta salad that I had started making before I got on the phone, I forgot to put in the tuna. I was thinking, hmm, this smells an awful lot like Miracle Whip. I wonder if I put too much in. And I’m staring at the bowl of pasta and green peppers lightly seasoned with onion powder and black pepper, and started laughing my ass off, because I realized there was no tuna in my tuna salad.

The rest of my day was okay. It was pretty quiet; since I’ve got more work at Hell, the last few days have been nicer for me. I never even read the paper today. That’s good because I was busy, bad because I have no idea what’s going on in the world.

I talked to NJ today, too, but I have to admit, it felt a little bit like cheating to do it. I wasn’t really comfortable with the concept, and I’m not 100% sure why. I mean, there’s nothing set in stone anywhere, and it certainly never bothered me to talk to him when I was with TheEx. Same as earlier, just before I logged in tonight, Curious1 was online. And I actually waited until he signed out to sign in myself. Didn’t want to talk to him, really.

Is this a new leaf for me?

Bah. What do I know? Only that I have cold feet and I have to be up at 6 to meet my trainer at the gym at 7, and I haven’t packed my gym bag yet.

We Just Came From the USA

I wrote in my diary last night – all the stuff I can’t or won’t write here. Thanks to Woodstock . . . I now have a use for the beautiful red leather diary she gave me for my birthday.

I was feeling pretty unsure, pretty numb, pretty damned… surreal yesterday. This afternoon, I texted Mud. Pretty suggested it; said that perhaps he was sitting there waiting for me to text him, and I’m sitting here waiting for him to text me, and how juvenile is that? So I texted him. And it carried on for most of the afternoon. In highlights, he called me cute and smart (well, I am both of those things) and again mentioned the possibility of the whole passport issue.

Then he made fun of me a bit, too. And that’s when I realized that the Mud that I know isn’t going to morph into something that I don’t like or don’t want. Mud is Mud and that’s not going to change, whether he has decided to pursue something with me, or not. And there was a certain sense of relief when I realized that.

So today I’m in a better mood. I’m happier, I’ve reached that funny state of nirvana that a new relationship causes. Even if the relationship is technically an old one. I also called my mom when I got off work at Candy Mountain and told her I was going to seriously investigate moving South. And then I told her why. And she told me that I should do what I wanted to do. She said, “you’ve always wanted to go. So go.” And she didn’t mean South, in particular. I just… I have always wanted to go. Wherever. The idea of living in the same town for the rest of my life with TheEx was what caused me to break up with him, of course. At the same time, I have to realize that if it came down to it, I’d be doing the same thing with Mud. And yet, it’s somehow different. At least it is right now. It’s new.

And that’s all I’m saying about him tonight.

TheGiant IM’med me while I was away South. On the 21st, I think it was. I didn’t get the IMs until I was back here, at home. And frankly, I don’t care. He wanted to know if I wanted to talk, but before he did that, he told me about his job, and how he was going to be off for the summer, blah blah. Dude, I totally don’t even give a rat’s ass. I closed the conversation window and I have no more intention of replying to his communication than I did of replying to OM’s text a month ago. Whatever.

I went to the gym tonight, so it’s already eleven. The dishes are done, though, and the apartment is airing out. I love facing these directions because the wind blows right through. It’s fantastic to freshen the apartment and blow out the stale hot air from the day. And the living room is warmer than the bedroom. This is good for Indigo, and good for me. Easier to sleep in the cool, and it keeps him warmer at night.

Anyway, I think I’m going to go re-read a few texts and stare like a drunk fool at the walls for a bit.

El Condor Pasa (If I Could)

I have put off blogging about this for several days now, and it isn’t due to lack of opportunity. It’s because I don’t know what to say.

As per my last post, Mud wanted T. and TheBoy to go to his place for dinner on Thursday. I refused on their behalfs, mostly because TheBoy didn’t want to go. T. said that she loved me and she’d totally go if I wanted her to. But honestly, I thought that if Mud wanted to see me, then he should be man enough to admit that he wanted to see me without the “protection” of T. and TheBoy.

And he did.

Around 5:15, he texted me to see what my plans were. Of course I had none. Perhaps TheBoy and I would have gone to the movies, leaving T. alone to get some work done. Instead, Mud invited me over for pizza and a movie. And of course, I went. I expected pizza and a movie. Figured I’d be home by eleven, at the latest. He hadn’t ordered the pizza yet. So he did that, and we went to get it. On the way back to the house after picking up the pizza, he admits he has about one beer in the fridge and maybe some Coke, so we had to stop and get drinks. I assured him that the Coke was fine. He also hadn’t gone out to get a movie, so we watched one of his. Excellent planning on his behalf, hmm?

Mud is a very private person. He doesn’t discuss his social life with his work colleagues. So I’m torn about talking about him here now. I don’t want to expose his privacy in the same way I don’t expose the privacy of my other friends.

We talked. We were goofy. We ate pizza, watched the same movie twice. I left at 4:30 Friday afternoon. Then Mud came out for dinner with T. and TheBoy and some of T.’s friends. Then we went to Starbucks. Mud dropped me back off at T.’s house a few hours before my flight was supposed to leave Saturday morning.

I didn’t cry until I made it through Security and was sitting at the gate. As the plane was lifting off, I was glad I was sitting alone, because I was sobbing in my seat. I cried halfway to Memphis. I cried again in the Memphis airport.

Anyone who knows me knows I’m not a patient person.  But right now it’s not even about patience. It’s simply about . . . well, my depression medication stops me from feeling the low lows. And it also stops me from feeling the high highs. And that’s okay. But right now, I feel numb. I feel like the whole experience in Arkansas was surreal. It’s like a dream, a fantasy. Like I had a long dream in which I got everything I wanted, but now I’ve woken up and found out that my reality isn’t … I don’t know.

I texted him when I was at the airport, told him that I had a really good time with him, and thank you, and that I wasn’t crying at the gate, I swear. I got his text in reply when I landed in Memphis. He told me that “we’d arrange to fly you back down here soon, or I’ll come up and see you. Please don’t be sad.” I’m paraphrasing, but that was the gist. Of course, I cried more. Pretty cried when I told her what he said. But him talking about getting his passport and flying around the continent is not the action of a man who doesn’t want anything to do with me again, is it?

He texted me a few times last night, making sure I got home okay. Like I said, it’s surreal. I’ve been interested in this guy for five years. And suddenly, he expressed his interest, too. And now, it’s like the little brain cells in my head should be jumping up and down. I should be ecstatic. But instead, the little brain cells are standing there, their hands half-raised, staring at each other. Do we jump? Are we…uh… happy? What’s going on? This is a good thing, right? Did it really happen? Jump? Don’t jump? Do we release the balloons?

T. said that at dinner, he was looking at me in a new way, differently than he used to. I don’t know what to make of that. I was very cautious at dinner; I get to leave, and I know he treasures his privacy, and these were people he worked with. But he touched me first, so I went ahead and put my hand on his leg. I let him lead; it’s his city, they’re his colleagues.

There was no discussion of the future, beyond his musing that he should get a passport. Am I in a long-distance relationship now? Or did I have a fantastic few days with a guy who could just be perfect for me? Even his iPOD is pretty much a mix that I would make, with the exception of perhaps a little Yanni and some Belinda Carlisle.

I hated leaving T. and TheBoy and Zoey. I hated leaving that pretty little room with the beautiful nightstand and the papasan chair with the brown cushion. I hated leaving that gigantic square couch that you could sleep on. And the counter and the garberator and the little cement patio out back where the sun moves several inches every half-hour. I hated leaving my friend’s laughter, and her boyfriend’s funny accent, and her dog that used me as a chew toy and spent her afternoons following me from room to room. I hated leaving this amazing, funny, goofy, handsome, witty guy who could be -

I love Pretty (she brought me a healthy, perfect dinner last night so I didn’t have to eat out on my first night home. Who does that? Now that is consideration!), and I love TheEx and I love my family. I like my job, I love Indigo to death. But if there was a way to live the fantasy all the time -

El Condor Pasa.

Relax (Don’t Do It)

My day started at 9 a.m. when I decided I didn’t want to get up yet and went back to sleep until 10. Then I had a bagel, watched some TV with Zoey, waited for TheBoy to come home for lunch. Then I went and sat in the sun for about an half an hour per side (top half / bottom half) and then took another nap. I’m trying to be really careful about my sun exposure down here because I don’t want to go home burned. But it’s too hot to stay in the sun, and too cool to sit in the shade. Meh. What a dilemma to have, eh!?

T. and I went shopping briefly tonight. I found two pairs of shoes for $35 (buy one pair and get the second for $10). Even if they fall apart in two months, it was worth it. I found a pair of running shoes I really liked, too, but they didn’t have my size. Oh well. I also bought a whack of body lotions at Victoria’s Secret. They had a deal wherein you bought seven for $35, and they threw in another product free, so you got eight products for $5 each. And they have scents down here that the La Senza stores in Canada don’t carry. We did a really quick run through the mall, though, because T. didn’t get back from walking the dog until past seven.

We had burgers again for dinner, but when we came home, TheBoy had made some sort of casserole concoction, so after wolfing down burgers and fries, we both ate again half an hour later. The casserole was basically chicken pot pie filling, but with those crunchy Chinese noodles on top. I would’ve put carrots in the casserole for colour and used french onions on top, but hey, to each his own. Everybody’s got their own spin on things.

Otherwise, it was a pretty quiet day. Mud texted and told me to ask T. if she and TheBoy wanted to go to his place tomorrow night. I waited several hours to make it look like I’d actually checked with her, and then informed him that she had to work tomorrow night and she politely declined his invite. If he wants to invite me over, then he’ll have to do it himself. And if not, well, *shrug*. He doesn’t get my company. No loss to me; gives me more time to sit. lol.

It’s past eleven here and T. and TheBoy just went to bed. I’m going to go grab my Walmart book that I borrowed from T. and hit the sack myself. I can’t believe I’m closer to the end of my vacation than the beginning. I wish I could stay here. But then again, who doesn’t wish that their life was one long vacation?

Hungry Eyes

So today I woke up late. Really late. Like, noon EST late. It’s the week before the week, which means one of the things I want to do most in the world is sleep. I did work out, though. I spent about 45 minutes outside, in the shade (for the most part) doing squats and lunges and dead lifts and chest presses and shoulder raises. And abs. It was good – I needed them to remember how my body works. It felt good to exercise; I felt less like a gelatinous blob afterwards.

I showered and got ready for my non-date date with Mud tonight. He showed up a little bit late and came in for a few minutes and talked to T. and TheBoy and met Zoey. We went to a restaurant downtown, and it was a decent place. Mud’s got a new car – a TransAm. A new one, Pretty. You would’ve liked it, it was lumpy. And manual. Silver, with a full black-leather interior. Nice car. Even for it being a Pontiac, I was impressed.

We went for dinner. We talked the whole time – who does that? I mean, really. Even when I went out for dinner with TheEx there were always pauses and quiet moments. Mud and I talked the whole time. Then, because I didn’t want to go home yet and I don’t think he was ready for me to go home yet, he took me back to his place. We were at dinner for an hour and a half. Then we were back at his place for two and a half hours, sitting in his back yard in the dark, just dim lights from inside to see the back yard. We talked and talked and talked. About being single, and about relationships. He told me stories that almost made me cry, I laughed so hard. And in typical fashion (as if I haven’t heard this  a thousand times) “I don’t know why I’m telling you this…”

Then around 10:30, he drove me back to T.’s house, and offered to walk me to the door, but I assured him I could make it on my own. I made him give me a hug, and then he played with the hair at the crown of my head for a second or two. “It’s longer, eh?” I said. (Brilliant, huh?) Then he decided that perhaps he should invite T. and TheBoy to a cookout (English translation: barbecue) on Thursday night, and he left. Peeled out more like it. (I might’ve mocked him for driving a lumpy car like an old lady…)

Who does that? Who spends four hours with someone, touches their hair, takes them to their home, pays for their dinner… Who does all that and doesn’t care? See, Pretty, this is when I need you here to shake your head and tell me about the little piece of his heart… blah blah. T. is pissed. I came in and told her what we’d done and so on. She’s mad, because it’s all mixed signals, of course. I’m just… that’s the way Mud is. There’s no point in me getting mad about it. Sure, I think he’s fantastic, and I’d love to have the opportunity to get to know him better and spend more time with him than once a year, but unless he invited that sort of thing, there’s very little I can do to control the situation. I do wonder what he thinks… does he presume that all the mixed signals are okay? That the whole thing is all right? Because it’s not. Bah. If I keep writing about it, I’m just going to anger myself. And that’s not what I want.

When I left the kitchen a few minutes ago, T. and TheBoy were having an argument about what night he’s going to make his chicken pockets for dinner. T. and I were voting for tomorrow night. Clearly Thursday is out due to the potential of the “cookout”. (though TheBoy says he doesn’t want to go and T. should find a way to make it “not happen. there’s support for ya.) Friday night we’re apparently having company here before we all go out. But TheBoy doesn’t want “lots of people” running around in here, and when pressed as to what “lots of people” meant, he said, “I don’t know. Like, ten.” So then T. and I started laughing, and questioned whether the three of us counted as part of the ten or not… Oh, it degenerated from there, but I laughed my rear off.

Anyway, my eyes feel like sawdust. I think that being with Mud helped because my brain was occupied, and the workout earlier today helped tire out my body a little bit. So I’m off to sleep. I miss home, and tomorrow is my “halfway point”. I don’t want to come home, and I do want to come home.