I’ve found that recent relationships have given me reason to loose faith in the male gender. Not completely, and it’s a fleeting loss (oxy-moron?), my freakishly heightened optimism will eventually kick back on, so this is only a temporary glitch, of this I am sure. It doesn’t mean, however, it hasn’t absorbed into my conscious, subconscious, marrow. This saddens me greatly, for extending the benefit of the doubt happens to be my forte, a quality I admire in myself as much as others and I’ve observed in few. I am one of the lucky ones. But, with this extension comes the risk of being walked across, pushed inconsiderately aside, for people begin to think another chance lies beyond, and another, and another…
Any intelligent person would see this as a nasty pattern, one that should be nipped in the bud immediately. The expression Fool me once, shame on you, Fool me twice shame on me, comes to mind. But, this sounds like the bitter woman’s mantra, and while I am a woman, bitter is an adjective I would never use to describe myself. I’ve found too many times mistakes are often just that, miscalculations or miscommunications that simply get lost in translation. It happens, and it will. I’m not unrealistic, nor unforgiving. Human nature is imperfect; therein lays the beauty of people. How would we know what we are capable of if not pushed? If not forced to choose between an easy dismissal and compassion? As you may have already guessed, the latter happens to be a weakness and I often find I am alone with that as a companion. Which, often provides better company, I must admit, than the alternative; having the wool pulled over your eyes by someone who you thought was incapable of being anything but considerate.
So, what has shaken my beliefs, made me seriously ponder the credit I (time and time again, I must embarrassingly admit) keep sprinkling on unworthy, unappreciative, unresponsive candidates? The answer is in the question. Doling out myself, my kindness to those who continue to take it, without reciprocation.
Chances do in fact grow on my tree…and they have been plucked time and time again by too greedy of hands. I have realized that while bitterness is not becoming, hesitation can be and in my case, should be exercised at times. Go with your gut. This phrase has been thrown at me by my, “no one will ever be good enough for you” mother. While her reasoning may be askew (someone, somewhere will indeed be good enough, as they will have captivated and appreciated me enough to keep me with them), I have found that her advice to instinctually follow that little voice inside your head (and stomach), usually winds up being what follows the, “I should have…”
If you ever feel as though you’re talking yourself into someone, listing on hand the bones they have thrown to your starved pallet of forgiveness, you must remember that, if it seemed too easy for them to dismiss your hurt feelings, they probably weren't ever considered.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
"I'd like to think I'm the mess you'd wear with pride." Band of Horses
Trista
She hadn’t even brushed her teeth that morning, and now, as she boarded the plane home, she regretted it more than the poor soul who leaned in too close. The alarm had sounded at 6:30am and Carrie, her brother’s wife, had cheerfully entered her room after the first buzz. What the fuck, she thought. Had she been camping out all night, sleeping by the door, only to spring into action at the first sound of someone’s hard start?
“Morning, T,it’s a beautiful day, and I thought we could all sit down for popovers before you left, how did you sleep by the way, we need a new mattress, and Mathew ordered one two weeks ago, I keep meaning to call and check up, but anyway, oh, I had to tell you, that I turned the computer the den on if you’d liketocheckyourflight,although it’sabeautifulday…”
As she droned on and on, Trist slowly sat up, still bewildered anyone could, A. talk that F-in fast; B. had that much friggin energy in the morning, cause come on and; C. she couldn’t think of a third reason cause it was too flippin early! Anytime her sister-in-law spoke, the words seemed to run together in her head, so by the end of her run-on sentence, all she could do was say, Huh? Trist knew Carrie thought she was on drugs, and that made her smile. Last time she ingested anything other than booze had happened almost a year ago and she had almost passed out. The drink did her just fine.
“So?” Carrie stood in front of the bed, completely dressed, looking ridiculously hip for 6:30 am on a Sunday and all Trist wanted to do was go to sleep (well, she first wanted to punch Carrie in the head, but then snuggle under the covers).
“Umm, I’m sorry, I’m kinda a slow mover in the morning. That early bird catches the worm, yeah, never got it.” As she attempted a somewhat lame joke, Carrie fluttered around the room, opening the curtains, picking up Trist’s dirty clothes that would just get wadded into a ball when she packed them, which she would if the sunshine spreading, energizer bunny on crack sister-in-law would get out. Trist cursed herself for staying out all night, although thanked whoever was up in that big sky, for having slipped in this morning, unannounced.
When Carrie started making her bed while she was still in it, she finally decided to get up, sarcastically mumbled something about needing to use the lav (apparently Carrie was British while discussing urination), and ducked into the hall where she nearly rammed into her 6’2 brother. How the hell did they end up with each other, she wondered.
In college, Matt had been the “It” guy on campus. Trist had gone to visit once and couldn’t believe the fan following. He had been popular in high school, an athletic guy, dabbling in many of the team sports, but nothing would compare to his collegiate status. Guys wanted to either be him or beat the shit out of him, although rarely the latter, he was just so friggin cool. And girls, oh the girls dropped their panties at his hello. Trist hadn’t believed it, but sure as shit got proof that her brother had some power over the ladies. Upon arrival at a frat party her brother’s brothers had thrown, Trist overheard a tiny brunette tell her big brother how she hadn’t wore anything under her skirt, so if he wanted to follow her, she’d be in the coat closet.
“You’ve got to be kidding?” she had asked, after the little dormitory slut had pranced off.
Ever so coolly sipping his beer, he acted as though he hadn’t even heard the chick, grabbed his sister in a headlock, and simply stated, “Let’s get you shlitzed.”
Recalling this, as her now married older brother looked at her to make sure she hadn’t killed herself on his chest, Trist shook her head.
“What?” Matt asked, grabbing his ankle and stretching his quads.
His athleticism had followed him into adulthood, a feat she was truly in awe of. Most of the married people she knew had let their guts grow over their belts, settling for defeat as if to say, what’s the point, it’s over. That, she vowed, no matter how tired in the morning she was, would never happen to her. Although, a 6am run would never friggin happen.
Marriage would not be her trip to fat farm, in fat, why walk down the isle at all? She had never got it. Always seemed like such an ending.
“Um, can you tell your wife I have an eye boogie that needs wiping, think she may have a monogrammed tissue lyin around.” She always tried to joke around with him, but ever since he had settled down with Clean B, his humor had died a slow death. Another minus to marriage.
“Wow, someone woke up on the bitch side of the bed.” Matt, more chipper than herself, yet not as ADD as his wife, finished stretching his other leg, mimed a boxing fight with Trist, while she stood rolling her eyes, and bounded upstairs. Go getters, Trist thought with a bitter, yet envious sigh. She looked back at Carrie, who was humming a tune and fluffing the sleep encrusted pillows, then turned the corner. Finally in the bathroom, alone, she de-pajamed, turned on the shower, and let the hot water rinse away her visit and his skin. She couldn’t wait to board that plane.
Benny
They had promised to wake him up by 7:30am as he had a 9:15 flight that he HAD to catch or he’d be fired, and the airport was almost an hour away. His friends were dicks, but damn they knew how to throw him a going away party. The visit had been short, swung by grandmas’, his Uncle Al and Aunt Pats’, and a few of his cousins who were still around the area (most were either in the military, in jail, or MIA, which was probably a good thing).
Mom had also gotten a visit from him, although that had been the most uncomfortable situation ever. That was on his mind as he woke up on the floor, beer bottles stuffed with cigarettes all around him. Not even wanting to look at the clock, he tried to sit up, only to realize something pinned his arm o the floor. Oh shit, he thought, rolling his head over to one side. Oh my God, it wasn’t her. As pieces of the night started pushing themselves together, he realized he had lost another chance. Fuck.
“Dude, you need to visit more often, you dick,” Jay had always been poetic with words, using dick in every other sentence. It could express his anger, his love, his confusion, hell, his boredom with just about anything. Words weren’t his thing and Benny knew this, so didn’t bust his balls. But the kid would rob Mother Theresa if you asked him to.
“I know man, just trying to get my shit together, ya know? Work is a bitch, but I have bills to pay, and dude, you can always visit me. It’s a plane ride away, just like it is for me, dumb ass.”
He had had this conversation numerous times with all his boys, who always asked him if and when he was moving back, why the hell he had left in the first place, then always ending with the ‘are you too good for us?’ question. The last one usually got asked after several beers, shots, hits. He could see it coming, however, never liked to answer it.
“Get the fuck outta here, dick. We’re all back here, you wanna see us, here we are. Ya don’t, well, you’re a dick. “ Jay laughed and punched him in the shoulder, then headed toward the kitchen, no doubt to grab another beer.
Benny did miss this place; having tried to forget it just hadn’t worked. Every time he rode down Lucas avenue he got that familiar feeling, where memories, good and bad, bubble up and ya can’t seem to calm your stomach. He loved and hated it and had tried to come to terms with it when he left. Alone, in his new city, away from these streets, everything was good. He could reinvent himself and he had, although each and every trip home usually threw old habits into his new routine. The anticipation and anxiety of these streets always shook him, so when a homecoming crept closer, the clumsier and more careless he got. A week before this trip, his mid had been so clogged he missed two meetings with clients, causing him to lose a potentially huge sale and have his boss’ boss made aware of his mishap. Yeah, sitting on thoughts of home never sat well with him.
“Hey man, is everything ok?” His buddy Jim had popped his head into his cubicle after his scolding from the Uppers about his missed meetings. Jim had been his first real friend in this new city and they hung out a bunch, happy hours, ball games, company outings. Jim was his wingman here. Although he had kept him at a distance only noticeable to Benny (as certain information about his past wasn’t discussed), Jim and him were tight. Even tag teamed the ladies now and again, double dating when they happened to meet someone.
What a good guy, Ben thought as he shifted his gaze away from Jim’s concerned face. His generic screen saver popped on, floating fish in a sea of coral. He had never been scuba diving. He looked back at Jim. What was it about him that always attracted the good people? He tried to stay to himself, not seem interested in participation, but that always seemed to land him next to the nicest friggin soul in the joint, asking him if he wanted to grab a beer or if he ever needed to talk…It’s not as if he was anti-social, not at all, just involvement led to questions and questions led to scraping the scab off his protective layer. Not usually his scene, although with Jim it had been a bit different. Jim hadn’t pushed, hadn’t made too many personal innuendos or pried too deep into anything. And the same lack of detail had been paid on Benny’s end. They were two guys, just hangin out and just the act of being in close proximity to each other was enough. Ben figured Jim had had the same philosophy of past lives, possibly cause he had left one to start anew as well; leave em’ in the past and keep on movin.
“Man, I’ve just got a lot on my mind buddy, but thanks. Just feel like a real shit about missing those meetings, but, guess nothing but time will tell now.”
Benny hated these clichés…nothing but time will tell? No shit, that’s what time did. Revealed, uncovered, sometimes even decided for you. It was these kinds of comments, clip phrases so to speak, that allowed a lone soul like Benny to move away from a potentially awkward personal revelation. This day had been cursed from the start, and looking at the 4:15 time, he figured it was better to call it a day than drag on for another 45 minutes. What could they do, fire him for leaving after that ass ripping? He got up from his seat, grabbing his jacket, patted Jim on the shoulder and told him he’d see him after his trip. He had declined Jim’s extremely generous offer at a ride to the airport the next morning. The train ride in was needed to gather his thoughts, and as Benny got in his car at the end of the day before his homecoming, thoughts of her came into his head. The car started, he shook her out, and pulled out of his parking space. It was going to be a long trip.
She hadn’t even brushed her teeth that morning, and now, as she boarded the plane home, she regretted it more than the poor soul who leaned in too close. The alarm had sounded at 6:30am and Carrie, her brother’s wife, had cheerfully entered her room after the first buzz. What the fuck, she thought. Had she been camping out all night, sleeping by the door, only to spring into action at the first sound of someone’s hard start?
“Morning, T,it’s a beautiful day, and I thought we could all sit down for popovers before you left, how did you sleep by the way, we need a new mattress, and Mathew ordered one two weeks ago, I keep meaning to call and check up, but anyway, oh, I had to tell you, that I turned the computer the den on if you’d liketocheckyourflight,although it’sabeautifulday…”
As she droned on and on, Trist slowly sat up, still bewildered anyone could, A. talk that F-in fast; B. had that much friggin energy in the morning, cause come on and; C. she couldn’t think of a third reason cause it was too flippin early! Anytime her sister-in-law spoke, the words seemed to run together in her head, so by the end of her run-on sentence, all she could do was say, Huh? Trist knew Carrie thought she was on drugs, and that made her smile. Last time she ingested anything other than booze had happened almost a year ago and she had almost passed out. The drink did her just fine.
“So?” Carrie stood in front of the bed, completely dressed, looking ridiculously hip for 6:30 am on a Sunday and all Trist wanted to do was go to sleep (well, she first wanted to punch Carrie in the head, but then snuggle under the covers).
“Umm, I’m sorry, I’m kinda a slow mover in the morning. That early bird catches the worm, yeah, never got it.” As she attempted a somewhat lame joke, Carrie fluttered around the room, opening the curtains, picking up Trist’s dirty clothes that would just get wadded into a ball when she packed them, which she would if the sunshine spreading, energizer bunny on crack sister-in-law would get out. Trist cursed herself for staying out all night, although thanked whoever was up in that big sky, for having slipped in this morning, unannounced.
When Carrie started making her bed while she was still in it, she finally decided to get up, sarcastically mumbled something about needing to use the lav (apparently Carrie was British while discussing urination), and ducked into the hall where she nearly rammed into her 6’2 brother. How the hell did they end up with each other, she wondered.
In college, Matt had been the “It” guy on campus. Trist had gone to visit once and couldn’t believe the fan following. He had been popular in high school, an athletic guy, dabbling in many of the team sports, but nothing would compare to his collegiate status. Guys wanted to either be him or beat the shit out of him, although rarely the latter, he was just so friggin cool. And girls, oh the girls dropped their panties at his hello. Trist hadn’t believed it, but sure as shit got proof that her brother had some power over the ladies. Upon arrival at a frat party her brother’s brothers had thrown, Trist overheard a tiny brunette tell her big brother how she hadn’t wore anything under her skirt, so if he wanted to follow her, she’d be in the coat closet.
“You’ve got to be kidding?” she had asked, after the little dormitory slut had pranced off.
Ever so coolly sipping his beer, he acted as though he hadn’t even heard the chick, grabbed his sister in a headlock, and simply stated, “Let’s get you shlitzed.”
Recalling this, as her now married older brother looked at her to make sure she hadn’t killed herself on his chest, Trist shook her head.
“What?” Matt asked, grabbing his ankle and stretching his quads.
His athleticism had followed him into adulthood, a feat she was truly in awe of. Most of the married people she knew had let their guts grow over their belts, settling for defeat as if to say, what’s the point, it’s over. That, she vowed, no matter how tired in the morning she was, would never happen to her. Although, a 6am run would never friggin happen.
Marriage would not be her trip to fat farm, in fat, why walk down the isle at all? She had never got it. Always seemed like such an ending.
“Um, can you tell your wife I have an eye boogie that needs wiping, think she may have a monogrammed tissue lyin around.” She always tried to joke around with him, but ever since he had settled down with Clean B, his humor had died a slow death. Another minus to marriage.
“Wow, someone woke up on the bitch side of the bed.” Matt, more chipper than herself, yet not as ADD as his wife, finished stretching his other leg, mimed a boxing fight with Trist, while she stood rolling her eyes, and bounded upstairs. Go getters, Trist thought with a bitter, yet envious sigh. She looked back at Carrie, who was humming a tune and fluffing the sleep encrusted pillows, then turned the corner. Finally in the bathroom, alone, she de-pajamed, turned on the shower, and let the hot water rinse away her visit and his skin. She couldn’t wait to board that plane.
Benny
They had promised to wake him up by 7:30am as he had a 9:15 flight that he HAD to catch or he’d be fired, and the airport was almost an hour away. His friends were dicks, but damn they knew how to throw him a going away party. The visit had been short, swung by grandmas’, his Uncle Al and Aunt Pats’, and a few of his cousins who were still around the area (most were either in the military, in jail, or MIA, which was probably a good thing).
Mom had also gotten a visit from him, although that had been the most uncomfortable situation ever. That was on his mind as he woke up on the floor, beer bottles stuffed with cigarettes all around him. Not even wanting to look at the clock, he tried to sit up, only to realize something pinned his arm o the floor. Oh shit, he thought, rolling his head over to one side. Oh my God, it wasn’t her. As pieces of the night started pushing themselves together, he realized he had lost another chance. Fuck.
“Dude, you need to visit more often, you dick,” Jay had always been poetic with words, using dick in every other sentence. It could express his anger, his love, his confusion, hell, his boredom with just about anything. Words weren’t his thing and Benny knew this, so didn’t bust his balls. But the kid would rob Mother Theresa if you asked him to.
“I know man, just trying to get my shit together, ya know? Work is a bitch, but I have bills to pay, and dude, you can always visit me. It’s a plane ride away, just like it is for me, dumb ass.”
He had had this conversation numerous times with all his boys, who always asked him if and when he was moving back, why the hell he had left in the first place, then always ending with the ‘are you too good for us?’ question. The last one usually got asked after several beers, shots, hits. He could see it coming, however, never liked to answer it.
“Get the fuck outta here, dick. We’re all back here, you wanna see us, here we are. Ya don’t, well, you’re a dick. “ Jay laughed and punched him in the shoulder, then headed toward the kitchen, no doubt to grab another beer.
Benny did miss this place; having tried to forget it just hadn’t worked. Every time he rode down Lucas avenue he got that familiar feeling, where memories, good and bad, bubble up and ya can’t seem to calm your stomach. He loved and hated it and had tried to come to terms with it when he left. Alone, in his new city, away from these streets, everything was good. He could reinvent himself and he had, although each and every trip home usually threw old habits into his new routine. The anticipation and anxiety of these streets always shook him, so when a homecoming crept closer, the clumsier and more careless he got. A week before this trip, his mid had been so clogged he missed two meetings with clients, causing him to lose a potentially huge sale and have his boss’ boss made aware of his mishap. Yeah, sitting on thoughts of home never sat well with him.
“Hey man, is everything ok?” His buddy Jim had popped his head into his cubicle after his scolding from the Uppers about his missed meetings. Jim had been his first real friend in this new city and they hung out a bunch, happy hours, ball games, company outings. Jim was his wingman here. Although he had kept him at a distance only noticeable to Benny (as certain information about his past wasn’t discussed), Jim and him were tight. Even tag teamed the ladies now and again, double dating when they happened to meet someone.
What a good guy, Ben thought as he shifted his gaze away from Jim’s concerned face. His generic screen saver popped on, floating fish in a sea of coral. He had never been scuba diving. He looked back at Jim. What was it about him that always attracted the good people? He tried to stay to himself, not seem interested in participation, but that always seemed to land him next to the nicest friggin soul in the joint, asking him if he wanted to grab a beer or if he ever needed to talk…It’s not as if he was anti-social, not at all, just involvement led to questions and questions led to scraping the scab off his protective layer. Not usually his scene, although with Jim it had been a bit different. Jim hadn’t pushed, hadn’t made too many personal innuendos or pried too deep into anything. And the same lack of detail had been paid on Benny’s end. They were two guys, just hangin out and just the act of being in close proximity to each other was enough. Ben figured Jim had had the same philosophy of past lives, possibly cause he had left one to start anew as well; leave em’ in the past and keep on movin.
“Man, I’ve just got a lot on my mind buddy, but thanks. Just feel like a real shit about missing those meetings, but, guess nothing but time will tell now.”
Benny hated these clichés…nothing but time will tell? No shit, that’s what time did. Revealed, uncovered, sometimes even decided for you. It was these kinds of comments, clip phrases so to speak, that allowed a lone soul like Benny to move away from a potentially awkward personal revelation. This day had been cursed from the start, and looking at the 4:15 time, he figured it was better to call it a day than drag on for another 45 minutes. What could they do, fire him for leaving after that ass ripping? He got up from his seat, grabbing his jacket, patted Jim on the shoulder and told him he’d see him after his trip. He had declined Jim’s extremely generous offer at a ride to the airport the next morning. The train ride in was needed to gather his thoughts, and as Benny got in his car at the end of the day before his homecoming, thoughts of her came into his head. The car started, he shook her out, and pulled out of his parking space. It was going to be a long trip.
Pencil Me In
People are always asking me what’s on my agenda, how does my schedule look, what’s coming up. Now, I say people as though I think everyone cares what my days and nights consist of, and that is not the case. I know most people do not; I’m not that egotistical (although, I am kind of a big deal). A very, very small fish in an ocean, I do not pretend to be more important than I actually am, although do lead an unusually stuffed life. Here’s how I think of it; most people are curious by nature, wanting to explore and question that which they do not understand. Well, being on the move gives me a certain something, not sure what, but whatever it is, not everyone has it. This could be a good or bad thing, depending on who you ask. My neighbor, Joe, born and raised in Roxborough (the neighborhood I live in), shakes his head each time he sees me.
“They still chargin you rent here, Cate? Where ya been? Where ya off to now? We never hear ya”
First of all, he always acts as though I’m doing something wrong by vacating the neighborhood without proper clearance. And I’ve never heard of not being able to hear your neighbor being a bad thing. I live above a couple who just had a baby, and let’s just say, I’ve not heard so much as a coo from this thing, and I sure ain’t complaining. But, Joe’s a good guy and his line of questioning is always met with my shit eating grin. I play the blonde, I don’t know, I’ve been busy card and try to explain as little as possible (enough just to get his eyebrows to stop jamming into the top of his head) and put the key into my door (which apparently is dusty from lack of entry).
This neighbor, king of my street, mayor of Freeland Ave, knows everyone by name, job title, vehicle and family tree. Living in one place all your life affords you the luxury of really getting to know your neighbors, and there isn’t a damn thing wrong with it. People with these backgrounds though, in my experience, just don’t understand the on-the-go lifestyle. Why would you ever want to leave the lovely burrough of Rox? Well, there are a million reasons in my book…life awaits and no better time life the present (or in my case, the next six months…yeah, I’m a planner).
So, why and how the hell did I get this way? Well, number one, genetics. Those who’ve met my momma know she’s hardly ever home. High school parties thrown in her absence may ring a bell. (Yeah, I almost got sent out of the country by queen B for some of those, but damn they were good times.) Plus, she’s pretty much the energizer bunny on crack, so GO is the only mode she knows. Being reared by a woman of her speed set the tone for my future pace. Although I wasn’t always this plan oriented, I do take after her fast track as of late. She once told me, in response to someone asking if she was scared to fly, “I’d rather die doing something, than doing nothing.” Says it all.
Another reason, or reasons I should say, I’m always out and about, has nothing to do with me and I cannot be held responsible for; my friends. These crazy kids are, 1. All over the country, and road trips are what we do; 2. Are hilarious, just ask anyone. Ok, maybe not anyone, but we think we’re pretty funny; 3. Into kicking the cat and doing what they do. Wherever we go, we have a blast and usually end up killing it.
So, nobody gonna take my pride, nobody gonna hold me down, on no, I gotta keep on movin. You want me, you better get me to look in my planner (which is always with me, I’m insane with plans, I wasn’t kidding) and make me pencil you in. Next few weeks are fillin up fast. Next up, may be movin on up…(Hunting dwellings tonight in Conshy with Queen B, gotta get out of paying the city wage tax man!), Thursday’s affair-Irish visits Philly (Gnocchi babies are delicious), Friday, I'm the chef, so taste this (Wash it down with Main Street), Saturday’s tasty Delaware affair (private wine pairing with the energizer bunny and friends). Until next week, get out there.
“They still chargin you rent here, Cate? Where ya been? Where ya off to now? We never hear ya”
First of all, he always acts as though I’m doing something wrong by vacating the neighborhood without proper clearance. And I’ve never heard of not being able to hear your neighbor being a bad thing. I live above a couple who just had a baby, and let’s just say, I’ve not heard so much as a coo from this thing, and I sure ain’t complaining. But, Joe’s a good guy and his line of questioning is always met with my shit eating grin. I play the blonde, I don’t know, I’ve been busy card and try to explain as little as possible (enough just to get his eyebrows to stop jamming into the top of his head) and put the key into my door (which apparently is dusty from lack of entry).
This neighbor, king of my street, mayor of Freeland Ave, knows everyone by name, job title, vehicle and family tree. Living in one place all your life affords you the luxury of really getting to know your neighbors, and there isn’t a damn thing wrong with it. People with these backgrounds though, in my experience, just don’t understand the on-the-go lifestyle. Why would you ever want to leave the lovely burrough of Rox? Well, there are a million reasons in my book…life awaits and no better time life the present (or in my case, the next six months…yeah, I’m a planner).
So, why and how the hell did I get this way? Well, number one, genetics. Those who’ve met my momma know she’s hardly ever home. High school parties thrown in her absence may ring a bell. (Yeah, I almost got sent out of the country by queen B for some of those, but damn they were good times.) Plus, she’s pretty much the energizer bunny on crack, so GO is the only mode she knows. Being reared by a woman of her speed set the tone for my future pace. Although I wasn’t always this plan oriented, I do take after her fast track as of late. She once told me, in response to someone asking if she was scared to fly, “I’d rather die doing something, than doing nothing.” Says it all.
Another reason, or reasons I should say, I’m always out and about, has nothing to do with me and I cannot be held responsible for; my friends. These crazy kids are, 1. All over the country, and road trips are what we do; 2. Are hilarious, just ask anyone. Ok, maybe not anyone, but we think we’re pretty funny; 3. Into kicking the cat and doing what they do. Wherever we go, we have a blast and usually end up killing it.
So, nobody gonna take my pride, nobody gonna hold me down, on no, I gotta keep on movin. You want me, you better get me to look in my planner (which is always with me, I’m insane with plans, I wasn’t kidding) and make me pencil you in. Next few weeks are fillin up fast. Next up, may be movin on up…(Hunting dwellings tonight in Conshy with Queen B, gotta get out of paying the city wage tax man!), Thursday’s affair-Irish visits Philly (Gnocchi babies are delicious), Friday, I'm the chef, so taste this (Wash it down with Main Street), Saturday’s tasty Delaware affair (private wine pairing with the energizer bunny and friends). Until next week, get out there.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)