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Before we left, I uploaded my latest song, which is called Doomed Love. Both Jammies and my mom tactfully encouraged me to try a different beat some day ever, and so perhaps the next song will be toe-tappingly sprightly.
Let's be experimental, and open comments to constructive criticism, instead of merely encouragement? I mean, don't tear me a new asshole. But I know this is not my best song, and maybe there's some brilliance which has been gathering in a stormcloud of commenters to rain down on me, and I'd be foolish not to get wet-n-smart. Great analogy, Heebie.
So I hang my head in a book
The weekend was wonderful. It was deeply reassuring to see Mom. On Saturday night I had a bit of a meltdown and discreetly excused myself from the barbecue to go cry on the porch. It wasn't the big picture that got to me, but just the idea that I'd be saying goodbye to Mom on Sunday. I just wanted to stay in close proximity to Mom. I couldn't bear the thought of letting her drive off with my dad.
Jammies came with me, and after a little bit he swapped out with Mom, and we had a long, cuddly heart-to-heart on the porch. Which I greatly needed. After that I felt recharged enough to resume enjoying the vacation.
while you look
Also on Saturday I got fourteen hornet stings. Isn't that exciting? My dad and I were jogging, and we decided to explore some trails, and then the trail ended a few yards from a street. So we traipsed through the bramble towards the street, until we stepped on a hornets' nest and were ambushed by a million hornets. We panicked the fuck out, and sprinted as best we could through the bramble, and then back up the trail. And then we paused. Then the hornets caught up with us and we freaked out and shrieked and sprinted off all over again.
And then we paused, but kept panicking, because I realized I had one in my shirt. I took off my shirt and Dad killed the hornet. I got five bites from that one hornet alone.
It was more psychological than anything. I kept seeing phantom hornets dive-bombing me for the next hour, and I kept nattering on about it in a breathy, hyperventilating pitch to Jammies until he was forced to humor me excessively. Although a close second to the psychological trauma was the two bites on my left ear; those fucking hurt for a long time.
at the second hand twisting away
Also I now have revised my opinion of Hawaiian Punch from being a normal baby to being an easy baby. This is because my brothers and their wives were all amazed at how easily she goes to sleep, and stays asleep, and how chill she is when she's awake, and how much she coos.
Also, now I know to savor the baby stage, because watching one, two, and three-year-olds makes those years look like a giant pain in the ass. It's going to be so much work that I'll get the vapors, I'm sure.
Let's be experimental, and open comments to constructive criticism, instead of merely encouragement? I mean, don't tear me a new asshole. But I know this is not my best song, and maybe there's some brilliance which has been gathering in a stormcloud of commenters to rain down on me, and I'd be foolish not to get wet-n-smart. Great analogy, Heebie.
So I hang my head in a book
The weekend was wonderful. It was deeply reassuring to see Mom. On Saturday night I had a bit of a meltdown and discreetly excused myself from the barbecue to go cry on the porch. It wasn't the big picture that got to me, but just the idea that I'd be saying goodbye to Mom on Sunday. I just wanted to stay in close proximity to Mom. I couldn't bear the thought of letting her drive off with my dad.
Jammies came with me, and after a little bit he swapped out with Mom, and we had a long, cuddly heart-to-heart on the porch. Which I greatly needed. After that I felt recharged enough to resume enjoying the vacation.
while you look
Also on Saturday I got fourteen hornet stings. Isn't that exciting? My dad and I were jogging, and we decided to explore some trails, and then the trail ended a few yards from a street. So we traipsed through the bramble towards the street, until we stepped on a hornets' nest and were ambushed by a million hornets. We panicked the fuck out, and sprinted as best we could through the bramble, and then back up the trail. And then we paused. Then the hornets caught up with us and we freaked out and shrieked and sprinted off all over again.
And then we paused, but kept panicking, because I realized I had one in my shirt. I took off my shirt and Dad killed the hornet. I got five bites from that one hornet alone.
It was more psychological than anything. I kept seeing phantom hornets dive-bombing me for the next hour, and I kept nattering on about it in a breathy, hyperventilating pitch to Jammies until he was forced to humor me excessively. Although a close second to the psychological trauma was the two bites on my left ear; those fucking hurt for a long time.
at the second hand twisting away
Also I now have revised my opinion of Hawaiian Punch from being a normal baby to being an easy baby. This is because my brothers and their wives were all amazed at how easily she goes to sleep, and stays asleep, and how chill she is when she's awake, and how much she coos.
Also, now I know to savor the baby stage, because watching one, two, and three-year-olds makes those years look like a giant pain in the ass. It's going to be so much work that I'll get the vapors, I'm sure.