Ill try and write more, as I really do love to share, but I cannot guarantee longevity or quality. That's the truth.
Enjoying:
Dave. If I would have known of such happiness before, I would have said yes eons ago. It's a lovely thing to be deliriously happy in someone else's happiness. He stares at my left hand in such a sweet and wonderful way. I catch him sometimes and he looks away smiling. He says "fiance" to everyone and relishes in our new title. I know it is super lame, but a rough day melts away around his joy and adoration. Luckily, I willingly bask in it.
Jump Roping. My circus friend brought me a jump rope, and I am crazy over it. Take note: jumping rope is a BIG no bueno in the rain...don't even try it for fun. I almost ate shit and got muddier than a five year old in a ditch. But, with some exhilarating music and an hour jumping, I feel like I am in elementary school jumping for the American Heart Association again. Plus, I really don't enjoy the repetitiveness and blandness of a gym, so this is perfect for me. It's new, fun, hurts so good, and makes me feel like I'm super tough.
My nails. I have a terrible combination of hand issues: I have man hands and I bite my nails. Since I can't control the man hands, I decided to control the biting of nails, and I think I finally broke the habit! It feels good to be rid of a habit that has lasted me 22 years.
Not Enjoying:
You know when a hair is stuck in your bra? Either the front of the back, but a hair (from your head) is tickling your chest or back...you know? Yea, well I hate that. It has been happening a lot this week, which makes me think I am shedding hair at an alarming rate, creating more worry, but I find myself contorting my body and searching down my shirt for the illusive hair bothering me. My favorite is when I am in a meeting or walking in my office and I suddenly feel it. I react too soon to realize that I probably shouldn't have my hand down my shirt, claiming to be looking for a missing hair. Probably doesn't send the right message to my clients.
Fluff's scratching. He is at it again. I cannot even write the full account of torture that we go through when he decides to scratch. I adore this cat, but, hand to God, he would be a street cat in a moments notice if it wasn't for his cutie face. When he scratches, he brings out the abusive parents in Dave and I. We throw pillows at him, we yell, we ignore him, we even lock him in his cat carrier. It' bad, real bad. Anyway, I can feel myself getting worked up about it again, so I will stop here. Just know, he looks like a gem, but he has his flaws.
EP thanks for inspiring...
4 comments:
What a joy to read your blog post. I stopped because you stopped. I love reading about your life. I hope you keep writing. But I know what you mean... I am bored of myself also.
And - sorry Precious - but you DO NOT have man hands. Your hands are beautiful... slender, porcelain skin, and now sparkly. You hands are a wonder - stunning since you've been abusing them for so long. And I oughta know... I invented hideous hands.
I like your blog! I had either forgotten or didn't realize you had one. I can't seem to subscribe to it though? I get confused with Blogspot. PS: So happy for you and Dave!!
Thanks so much Bromley! It's been too long....we need to get together soon:)
Yeah!!! Back to blogging. Oh, I missed you. Love the new look of it. Mmm...delicious books.
I'll get back to blogging too. We'll inspire each other.
love you,
Em
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