I have had the opportunity the last 3 weeks to PLAY. That's right, play. I have spent three glorious weeks playing with my nephew and "sassy pants" niece - a little personalized slice of Heaven. Indulge me a few whilst I gush about their sheer genius.
Brady discovered the musical genius of Neil Diamond andshouts sings at the top of his lungs "Sweet Caroline" - a wondrous sight to behold. As we were rockin' to a few booty shakers and he walked in giving us all the look of "who are these aliens that are in charge here" he then gave into the inevitable and embraced the Diamond!
Ali or "Big Al" as we call her, Ali-gator, or Sister and quite often Sister-Face - thinks that "Happy" by Pherrell Williams is the best thing since sliced bread! She also has enough bounce in her boogie to get her little curlies bouncing as she "shakes it" and "gives it all she's got!" Last little story...as I was helping her in the potty and she was pulling up her britches, I started to help her when she looked up at me (with all the irritation of a teenager) and said in her wee tiny voice "I tol' you I could do it...God Sakes!" I literally almost wet myself in an attempt not to laugh out loud! She's a PICKLE, that one.
Now, that I have had a small little fix of the two cutest peeps on earth...I am on my way back to meet up with my main squeeze - FISHERMAN! I miss him MADLY! I won't bore you with the obvious but I am still only sleeping on one side of the bed - it is amazing how completely patterned one's brain and heart become and when one of the partners is absent it feels like missing a limb.
As I make my way to Montana, I have been renewed in my belief that human beings as a species are so interesting. There is such a wide variety in the sea of humanity to capture one's interest. For example, as I am sitting in dorky little Durango waiting to board the plane to Denver a woman who literally coughed the entire two hours I sat there was totally unaware of the other passengers and their repulsion of her entire being. Next, seated directly next to the incubus of viral plague was "short-shorts girl". It is no exaggeration that everyone knew she was rockin' it commando, but were treated to the delights of her stretch marks on her stomach and her bum cheeks hangin' out the other end as well.
I now sit in the Denver airport as a random flurry of people walk to and fro and I cannot help but wonder what their stories are. There is a girl (teenage girl) crying in a couple of rows away; innumerable business men and women (although it is 9:10pm, what business might they be conducting?); and because it is summer, an endless stream of families jostling about with kids being yanked by their parents with cries of "COME ON!" and "WE CAN MAKE IT!" being echoed down the terminal.
Lastly, I always marvel at the traveling women who walk through the airport and look like they have stepped off the cover of Vogue. This is a skill I will NEVER, EVER, possess. I always look disheveled, and am in need curling iron and make-up artist if I ever want to look even presentable when stepping off an airplane. Perhaps I should take Fisherman's Aunt's advice "the only way to fly is with cocktails, sweetie!" Cheers, Fisherman...I look like your Irish Girl - smashed butt supremo, but I will kiss your face off nonetheless when I see you.
Waiting to see my MAN,
Brady discovered the musical genius of Neil Diamond and
I now sit in the Denver airport as a random flurry of people walk to and fro and I cannot help but wonder what their stories are. There is a girl (teenage girl) crying in a couple of rows away; innumerable business men and women (although it is 9:10pm, what business might they be conducting?); and because it is summer, an endless stream of families jostling about with kids being yanked by their parents with cries of "COME ON!" and "WE CAN MAKE IT!" being echoed down the terminal.
Lastly, I always marvel at the traveling women who walk through the airport and look like they have stepped off the cover of Vogue. This is a skill I will NEVER, EVER, possess. I always look disheveled, and am in need curling iron and make-up artist if I ever want to look even presentable when stepping off an airplane. Perhaps I should take Fisherman's Aunt's advice "the only way to fly is with cocktails, sweetie!" Cheers, Fisherman...I look like your Irish Girl - smashed butt supremo, but I will kiss your face off nonetheless when I see you.
Waiting to see my MAN,
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