Friday Night Love Affair

Since confession seemed to be a theme in other blogs I've read today, I decided to follow suit. I wasn't going to write at all, but the guilt consumed me, and I must avow as well.

My husband has been working nights. He gets home at about three a.m., and being the dear that he is, he has been sleeping on the couch (which he can do quite well and satisfactorily, unlike me) so as not to wake me. I kiss him goodbye when I leave for work in the morning, and I talk to him on the phone when he's getting ready to leave for work again, somewhere around three in the afternoon. We get face time and actual time to talk come the weekend.

After a somewhat bizarre and harried week, I was in somewhat of a bizarre, yet animated, mood. I had the proverbial ants in my pants to do something besides sit on the couch and watch "What Not To Wear." And I had promised myself I wasn't going to spend three hours in front of the computer. I felt like doing something decadent and just accepting whatever consequences might follow.

I love my husband. I love my children and my grandchildren. And I love my friends. But I have another love, and sometimes I only want to be with that love. And so tonight, I am. I'm going to kick off my shoes and fix a drink. I'm going to fluff the pillows on the bed and turn down the volume on my phone. And then I'm going to languish with something steamy, and I swear I'm going to last more than fifteen minutes this time.

Sigh . . . life is good.

The Weekend Comes Early

I have the day off from work tomorrow. I have been looking forward to it for most of the week. I like my job well enough, but I love a day of quiet from time to time. I need a day of quiet from time to time. I CRAVE it.

At the beginning of the week, when I originally decided to ask for the day off, I was noticing lots of little things that needed to be done around the house. Menial little tasks that just weren’t getting done in the evenings. Insufferable little chores that the insufferable-little-chore-fairies weren’t doing during the day while I was at work. Chores like vacuuming up the dead flies from the windowsills, and cleaning the leftovers out of the fridge, and boxing up all the stuff in the garage for Goodwill and actually taking it and dropping it off. And I could picture in my mind how lovely it was going to be to have a clean house, and a clean fridge, and a clean garage. And I was already feeling the satisfaction that I knew would come when it was all done. But something changed between there and here, and the dead flies and leftovers aren’t bothering me so much anymore.

I’m thinking instead that it will be much too nice a day to work. And, frankly, why take a day off “work” to stay home and, well, work?

So what am I going to do? The possibilities are, as they say, endless:

• Sit extra long on the patio with an extra cup of coffee


• Take a walk


• Mail cards to my friends before postage goes up on Monday


• Go to the new scrapbook store


• Buy a new kind of tea and try it


• Take a nap




• Read


• Bake (and eat!) brownies


• Go get blackberries from the little local farm (thanks Suz!)


• Do yoga


• Do yardwork (Nope! There’s that word work again)


• Take a nap


• Go to the health food store


• Call my friend in Tucson and talk for about an hour


• Find Copenhagen on the map so I know where Blog Camp is going to be (even tho I’m not going – I’ll be there in spirit)


• Download some new songs in iTunes


• Get a pedicure


• Shop for plane tickets to North Carolina


• Learn a few new French words


• Take a nap


• Shop for clothes for my grandbabies


• Make a Mother’s Day card for my Mom-in-Law


• Cook some green chile brown rice


• Watch one of those judge shows I see advertised on TV all the time


• Practice Chinese brush painting


• Fix a broken necklace


• Kiss my husband when he gets home from work

Sigh . . . it’s gonna be a beautiful day!