10.15.2004 - 4:47 p.m.
Last weekend, JB and I had a really good time together. On Friday we went out to dinner and finally saw that Shaun of the Dead all the kids are talking about (have you seen it? Oh my dear lord it is so so so funny, I sat there in the theater absolutely braying with laughter to the point of making those little heeeee leaking balloon sounds. Best romantic zombie comedy ever). Then we spent Saturday at the Seattle Center where we saw an IMAX flick and tooled around the candy exhibit in the Pacific Science Center, reading up on the history of chocolate and eating jellybeans with our noses plugged in order to guess the flavor*.
go back ::: forward
*Which was totally rootbeer.
Everything was going great until Sunday, when we had a disagreement. Well, it was really more of a "loud screaming fight involving thrown vegetables", really. That's how it goes sometimes, you know? Sometimes you're nuzzling over the Jelly Bellies, sometimes you're hurling baby bok choy around the kitchen.
Anyway, everything is all fine and dandy today, no rough edges, no roughage, but I keep thinking about the turned-up-to-eleven volume "FUCK YOU" that I hurled out the window of my car at JB before I drove off in a huff (to the library, thankyouverymuch. I am SO punk rock).
On Wednesday, my coworker's brother was in a terrible motorcycle accident. It happened in Tacoma early in the morning, and he didn't survive. He was only 23 goddamn years old. I can't stop thinking about the loss and devastation that her family is going through. And I keep thinking how quickly things can change, forever, how someone you love can suddenly be taken, and how - oh, this feels trite - how short life really is.
What if those were the last words I had with JB, that uckfay ooyay? Jesus.
Go tell someone you love them, okay? Because holy shit, you never know.
My body is rebelling against me. I started taking a yoga class a couple weeks ago, and while I like to think that eventually my muscles will be long and supple and will stretch like warmed taffy, so far I'm about as limber as a dry twig. On Tuesday, we did handstands - mind you, we did them against a wall, but still. Damn. I haven't done a handstand since, oh, I don't know, FOURTH GRADE or so. I was actually fairly pleased with my performance, since I did manage to heave myself to an upright, upside-down position for a few brief, trembling moments, but the next day? Oh dear lord, the pain. Every fiber in my body held a meeting and collectively decided I was a fucking asshole, then went on strike. I'm just now able to sit in a chair like a normal person, instead of lowering myself halfway before helplessly dropping with a loud thud.
My favorite part of class is the whatchamacallit, savasana, at the end. That's where you lie on your back all comfy and just chill while the teacher plays soothing music and tells you to relax. The funny thing is, at every class so far someone has fallen asleep. I suspect it's the same person each time, actually, because whoever it is has a snurfley, rattling snore that gets louder and louder until the teacher clinks those little chimes - ting! - (probably masking her desire to give Snorey VonSnorterton a swift kick in the ribs) and turns on the lights.
I'll tell you, between the snoring and the, you know, handstand aftermath and all, it's sort of hard to empty the mind during savasana. So I've been using the time to think about food I'm not allowed to eat. Which backfired on me, because after my dessert porn fantasyfest on Tuesday, I found myself making a pan of rice krispy treats the next day, almost on autopilot.
So, I asked JB to help me come up with some scary movie lines per Gael's request. His response?
"What was the line from 7 days when the kid said [paraphrase]; 'WTF Mom you let that bitch out of the well'?"
Perhaps YOU have some better lines? Share!