I woke up to silence… a tiny furry Yorkie dog sleeping as close as he can get to me without being actually ON me. Kicking the covers off, knowing as soon as my naked foot landed on top of the fluffy cloud of down comforters heaped on my bed, my little Tucker Max would be running for my sparkly red toenails. He loves feet. Especially mine.
Giggling & fighting him from licking my toes as he tunnels under the sheets to follow them, I’m forced out of bed to let him out.
On a soft dusky rainy morning in a sleepy silent house. It’s 65* with a latte and the hot tub beckoning me. In nothing but my new Halloween pumpkin panties that say “Trick me” and the candy necklace my darling friend brought me last night as a gesture of “I told you so” love. Goosebumps spreading from my neck to my knees reminding me that fall is in the air. Smiling at the seasons. Happy with the perennial details.
I love the little things that mean so much. I love the tiny details that make me happy. The perfect imperfection of my life that keeps me going.
I put a million things away today, I folded laundry for hours. I swept, mopped, dusted and ran for a while. I focused on the one foot in front of the other approach, knowing what peace there is in the details. Clean floors make me smile. A clean refrigerator makes life beautiful. A nail appointment where he takes one look at me and frowns.
N- How’s the love life- uh oh.
J- No bueno. He died a quick death just like the rest of them. Lying, cheating, you name it… same old story.
N- No. You need one nice man. Not bad boy. You are very nice, you are a good woman. You will be happy, not sad.
J- Aww, thanks… but I’m inclined to think it doesn’t exist. I’m more than a little jaded these days.
N- I’m a good husband. A good father. I love my family. You will find that too.
This is just awesome, even my favorite nail guy is feeling sorry for me. Awesome…. he replaces them completely, makes them sparkly and talks me into an eyebrow wax.
So I look like a blonde girl with Asian skinny eyebrows… lesson learned. In fact I think I was born with thicker eyebrows than I have right now.
Still, I left feeling a million times better. Prettier… not so completely offended. Reaffirmed and readjusting to silence between us where he’d been so present before. For the record, the silence sucks most of all. It’s the biggest downside to breaking the addiction.
As a comfort eater from the word GO, I have pizza on the brain, combined with not wanting to cook in my lovely sparkly new pink nails… Gourmet Vegetarian pizza from Papa Murpy’s Take & Bake. With Canadian bacon… because it’s better like that 🙂
A fifth of Goose from the liquor store… because it’s that sort of week. Ohhhh and olives from the olive bar… ever the olive junkie.
I miss him as a diversion. Plain and simple. The reality of him is far different. He’s a snake in a polo. A shark in argyle. An asshole in a nice guy’s costume.
Who knows what or who he is, I don’t think he even knows… and I know precisely the woman I am.
I’m a dirty princess. I weed in designer jeans. I wear gloves to cover my beautiful nails and I get dirty. I garden, I can veggies and jam. I knit. I sew. I paint. I write. I smile you into smiling with me. I dance my feet to hell and gone. I work my ass off. I do more in a day than most people in a week. I juggle more right now than anyone else I know.
I’m fucking exhausted, and gawd dammit I deserve a man that isn’t a douche bag.
I deserve someone worth spoiling equally as much as I deserve to be spoiled. It all seems to be such an imbalance.
So I did what any self respecting faithful princess does…
and I bought myself a pumpkin…. a Cinderella pumpkin to be specific.
My $6 says it’s ok to have faith… and it’s ok to believe in fairytales and pumpkins.
My $6 says it’s ok to continually roll the dice, even though I’m equipped with a douche bag magnet and the odds are stacked against me.
At some point? I’m going to roll the dice and win.
At some point? They can’t all be frogs.
He doesn’t need to be a prince. Just good. Just honest… and worthy of the ridiculously delightful feminine hurricane I am. Capable of keeping up with the tornado of yarn & fabric. In love with my pickled asparagus. Sincere in his words and actions… and inspirational enough to leave me torn between curling up in his arms to fall asleep and getting up to write about him.
He just needs to make me think, make me feel and make me laugh… at myself…
But never at my princess pumpkin, or the heart that believes in the magic of it.
I’m canning ginger peach jam tomorrow… along with white plum vanilla bean… all before work.
More importantly? I’m smiling every time I see my pumpkin, blissful with a side of smug.
What a stupid foolish boy with horrible taste and what a ridiculous crybaby to waste a minute crying over someone who wasn’t even worthy.
Sparkly pink nails are wonderful…but my Cinderella pumpkin fixed everything.
Here’s to the best $6 I’ve ever spent.