Wednesday, December 21, 2011
I looked into her eyes, and there was sadness.
"What's wrong?" I whispered.
Nothing but a blank stare. She looked pale, her eyes droopy. In the ten seconds before it happened she just kept shaking her head signaling, no.no.no.
I leaned over to hold her face, to beg her to tell me what was making her so gloomy. Then.. . . .
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
"So, wait. Say that again." I said listening intently as I pushed my grocery cart down the aisle stopping to mull over whether or not it was cheaper to buy a 15 oz jar of sliced pickles or purchase the 30 oz, and slice them myself.
The Christmas music was playing louder than usual, Mariah Carey's All I want for Christmas is You. I couldn't quite concentrate on shopping, because my phone conversation and the music was humming in my ear.
"Okay, okay. That sounds good. Really firm, but logical. I should probably write this down." But before I could dig in my purse to find a pen, she started to wrap things up. I think she was tired of telling me the same thing over and over again.
"Look Nicole. You don't need to write this down. Just look her in the eye and say, I have made up my mind. End of discussion. She'll be upset. She may not talk to you, but she'll get over it, AND she'll know there are consequences to her actions." says my sister, flatly.
Friday, December 9, 2011
Last night when I went to sleep, I pulled the covers over my face, grabbed my husbands arm, threw it over my chest, backed him into the farthest recesses of our bed and fell asleep.
I was very comfortable.
At 4 am, I woke up because I couldn't feel him anymore, so I popped my head up, crawled back over to him and nudged my head into the pocket that sits between his underarm and his right chest breast, and I fell back to sleep.
Because. . .
I was comfortable.
I like to be comfortable.
This is one of the main reasons why I do anything. Because my ultimate goal is comfort.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
What I learned this past week:
1. My husband knows how to River Dance. Well. And he's not afraid to do it at his Company Christmas Party.
2. I have no balls. When I tell a hairdresser to cut my hair just above my shoulders, and she cuts it just below my ears, I will emphatically proclaim I love it, because I don't want to hurt her feelings, and then I will go home and slap myself around a bit.