"I don't know if my brain is on or off!"
-- K.J.
Those immortal words came out of my sons mouth last night at the Grandma Sabbath Dessert Bonanza as he pounded his head trying to figure out Family Feud, and I fell even more in love. Thump. My heart is gone.
-- K.J.
Those immortal words came out of my sons mouth last night at the Grandma Sabbath Dessert Bonanza as he pounded his head trying to figure out Family Feud, and I fell even more in love. Thump. My heart is gone.
Here's a little something I must confess, sort of like you are my religious leader or something: I hate to worry. Yet I must love it, because I keep doing it. It is a complicated relationship. Especially because I seem to hate/love to worry so much about things I have absolutely no control over and are not really the big humongous ordeal I make them out to be anyway. Really, though, I hate to worry. I'm trying to overcome this weakness. Amen.
I have something to say.
I really don't like to know every detail of a persons love life. For instance, I think it's cute to hear how your heart pounds, how you kissed maybe and it gave you chills, how it felt when he first held your hand (which was very nice, by the way, also a little scary), or how you think your loved one is a super fine foxy man or lady. But that is all. THAT IS ALL. And quite honestly, I think I'm getting a little too much information sometimes. And it alarms me. I am glad if you, perfect stranger, had a very nice Valentine's Day Date, but I do not want to have you hint heavily what happened at Midnight, because my mind will totally go there and it does not want to. I was sleeping at midnight, anyway, and that is exactly how I want to picture midnight.
I confess that I myself drool over my husband. But I think drooling is allowed. Mild drooling. Drooling that you can sop up with your hand, not drooling that you need a large cloth for.
Don't get me wrong. I think there is totally a place for telling your love story. That is adorable. For instance, I have been trying to coerce the fabulous Jenny to write down her love story for all us Peeping Tom's, because I think it might be the most fascinating, interesting one ever. I would like to hear every ones, pretty much, because I am just nosy like that. I may share mine sometime. But I'm laying down the law: don't tell me about your honeymoon, unless you tell how you got your picture taken with Mickey and Minnie or something. Because I am so immature. I really can't handle it.
And that is all.
I have something to say.
I really don't like to know every detail of a persons love life. For instance, I think it's cute to hear how your heart pounds, how you kissed maybe and it gave you chills, how it felt when he first held your hand (which was very nice, by the way, also a little scary), or how you think your loved one is a super fine foxy man or lady. But that is all. THAT IS ALL. And quite honestly, I think I'm getting a little too much information sometimes. And it alarms me. I am glad if you, perfect stranger, had a very nice Valentine's Day Date, but I do not want to have you hint heavily what happened at Midnight, because my mind will totally go there and it does not want to. I was sleeping at midnight, anyway, and that is exactly how I want to picture midnight.
I confess that I myself drool over my husband. But I think drooling is allowed. Mild drooling. Drooling that you can sop up with your hand, not drooling that you need a large cloth for.
Don't get me wrong. I think there is totally a place for telling your love story. That is adorable. For instance, I have been trying to coerce the fabulous Jenny to write down her love story for all us Peeping Tom's, because I think it might be the most fascinating, interesting one ever. I would like to hear every ones, pretty much, because I am just nosy like that. I may share mine sometime. But I'm laying down the law: don't tell me about your honeymoon, unless you tell how you got your picture taken with Mickey and Minnie or something. Because I am so immature. I really can't handle it.
And that is all.
2 comments:
Someone recommended a "romance adventure" novel to me recently that is evoking very similar feelings.
One of these days I'll get around to writing the tale of Alex's woes.
Saw Big B at Costco a few days ago. I resisted my urge to ask if he could hook me up with a free Very Berry Sunday.
I can relate to K.J.
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