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Browsing Tag: love

Wherein I Gush All Over the Place

Hi, everybody. Are you still out there? Oh, good. Thanks for sticking with me. As those of you who’ve emailed me in the last, oh, two months,  know, I’ve sort of disappeared from social interaction of the virtual kind. Any spare seconds I’ve had (and the not-so-spare seconds, you know–the ones where I was supposed to be doing the laundry/vacuuming the dog’s bed/remembering how to take shower) have been spent on the computer, but instead of corresponding with actual, real humans, I’ve been revising the imaginary ones in my manuscript. But guess what?! I sent the revisions to Katie last week (Woot! Woot! WHEE!). I am free and clear and gnawing at my fingertips while I wait for her to read ’em and decide that either a) I did a pretty decent job and we’re almost ready for submission, b) it needs more work and I have to pretend I have no family or friends for another month or two, or c) my revisions were so off-base she chucked the whole damn thing out the window of the train on…

Chili Ain’t No Picnic

Saturday evening, we had a chili picnic. Yes, it was for the small children.  Yes, I said “chili” and “picnic” together, as in, we had a picnic with chili, inside.  I have indeed not been evaluated for psychosis, but might agree with you that I was a little out of my mind with that idea. Oh, and did I mention that our family room carpet is (was) off-white (again, one of my good-at-the-time ideas…)?  Brilliant plan, I tell you.  Brilliant.  It started with us inviting a couple of people over to watch the 49ers-Saints game.  I was going to make some chili anyway, and David absolutely loves the Niners, and, well, it’s the playoffs.  See, my dear husband has this propensity to follow teams that are based absolutely nowhere near where he lives.  His argument when I tease him about it is that it gives us an excuse to travel to watch the teams play.  And I’d be cool with that if that actually meant we were jetting back to northern California every year to do so.  But no, we’re not.  What I got…

Really, for Kathy

So, we’re on our way tomorrow to the funeral of my mom’s cousin, whom I sort of, kind of, absolutely adored. I didn’t know her as well as I would’ve liked–it’s kind of hard to do so when you only see each other at weddings/funerals/birthday parties. The illness that lead to her death was sudden news to us, and all I kept saying, to my mom and to David was, “Kathy?! Our Kathy?” Because it just didn’t seem possible that somebody like her could cease to live. This isn’t meant to be a depressing post, so you can keep reading. Honest. I just had to tell you that what I loved most about Kathy–besides her laugh, of course, which seemed to come easily and sounded exactly like her mother’s–was how much she liked me. Isn’t that terribly narcissistic, to think about yourself like that when someone’s died? But that’s how I felt. It was always so clear to me that she really, truly liked me–she liked…