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I was 8 when my mom was pregnant with my brother and bought him this antique dresser. I promptly informed her that a baby would not be able to appreciate this fine dresser and claimed it as my own.
My love affair with antiques actually began long before age 8, when I would wander through my grandparent’s house, trying to commit its entire contents to my memory.
However, this did mark the start of my claiming my mother’s things as my own, and she was helpless to stop it. She’s even more helpless to stop Ellis from “shopping” in her fridge, laughing as Ellis pulls out leftovers and dropping it into a bag and saying in her sing-song voice, We need this. Aaaand we need this. Aaaand we need this.
I love this dresser as much today as I did at age 8. It held my first pair of white Guess jeans with the little zippers up the back. My bff Jerusalem and I used it to mix a batch of chocolate chip cookies late one night because we didn’t want to wake up my family by using the kitchen.
The marks of a penny, a hairclip, and a scissors are burned into the surface from carelessly leaving them underneath whatever decorative cloth I had draped over its top.
And now the dresser is in Ellis’ room, and even though I tell myself it’s still my dresser, I am totally prepared for the day when she claims it as her own. I will outwardly protest and tell her that just because it’s in her room, that does not make it hers. And on the inside, I’ll be thinking, this is just how it should be.
I wonder what sort of memories Ellis will have of her dresser 25 years from now, what fashions it will hold, what marks will be left behind.
She may not remember how she used to “lock” her dresser pulls by flipping them up (to keep the cat out, of course), but I will.
He really does love me! Honey went on-line to buy a gate for the back of the new car so Porter wouldn’t be tempted to hop over the back seats, and don’t think he wouldn’t try. Honey also bought me 2 new books! I asked if they were from my Amazon wish list, and he said that no, no, they were from his recommendations. Since he only buys things for me on Amazon & never anything for himself, Amazon is of the impression that he’s gay. And I don’t mean to offend gays, I just think it’s funny that Amazon recommends things like decorating books and chic-flicks. Tell me that’s not funny! And I love these books. I want to crawl inside and live in the pages of these books. Thank you, Honey ~ I love you!
Last night I dragged Honey to see P.S. I Love You, and I absolutely loved it. Honey, of course, thought it sucked. He’s not one for chic flicks, although he did say that once we own it and he’s seen it 4 times, maybe he’ll grow to like it. At least that’s something!
I must have cried about 8 different times during this movie, and I know I wasn’t alone because I could hear sniffling coming from all sides. I’m sorry, but if you are in a relationship, or more specifically, are married to the love of your life, and you don’t cry during this movie, you’re just dead inside.
This movie made me really think about my marriage, and how it doesn’t occur to me that it could be cut short. I married Honey with the belief that we will grow old together, and I never once considered the possibility that he could die young. If I allowed myself to think about such things, I probably never would have married him because the thought of losing him would hurt way too much.
P.S. brought up a whole mess of emotions that I never even knew existed. I could empathize with Hilary Swank’s character more than any other character I’ve watched in years. I could feel in my heart what it would feel like to be a widow at age 30, and it sucked. When you marry the man you love, that’s not supposed to happen, you know? How do you ever get over that? How do you get out of bed in the morning? Go to work? Move on? Smile? Allow yourself to fall in love again? I just can’t imagine how I’d ever get over losing Honey.
So, go watch this movie. Cry, laugh, give your husband a big hug, and treat your marriage as if every day could be its last.
Yesterday I was quite convinced I was coming down with a cold. My sinuses were bothering me more than usual, I felt like my throat was closing up, and I felt light-headed. This morning, thankfully, I am feeling better. Still having sinus troubles, but no more so than every day the past 2 months. I refuse to be sick for Christmas!
Okay, so don’t judge me or think I’m totally weird, but I will forever associate the holidays with soap operas. That right, I said, soap operas. I think the reason being is because when I was on Christmas break in high school, I often spent my afternoons watching All my Children, One Life to Live, and General Hospital. For many many years, we didn’t have cable, and when you don’t have cable, you get one fuzzy channel that is a combination of ABC and NBC. This meant that the only shows available to me were the soaps. The soaps were filled with pretty people, with perfect hair and perfect makeup, and they were always going to a holiday ball. And I (foolishly) wished I could be like them, with a perfectly scripted life. Now I know better, although I do sometimes wish I came with a script.
Hello, my dear internet friends. Honey googled me one day & finally found my blog. He reminded me that I haven’t written since the 4th of October. He also said good job for not trashing him on the internet, and that in the future when I’m pissed at him, I should read my blog since I portray him in such good light. Indeed, Honey has been a prince during these last 2 months of hormone hell. At any rate, not only have I not written for at least a month, but I haven’t even been reading about what all you fabulous people have been up to. I’m sure you’ve been creating your hearts out, have been preparing for the holiday season, and have dressed your kids up as various animals and cartoon characters. I’m sure one day soon, once I’ve closed a few loops (that was for Jerusalem’s benefit), I’ll sit & read for hours & smile at your lovely lives.
I also got my first issue of Victoria ~ horray! Well, not my first issue, of course, but you know what I mean. AND, Honey got his drivers license today! Yes, my 26 year old husband finally is licensed to drive. After moving here from California in 1999, he lived downtown & worked downtown. We have the same work schedule, so when we bought our house in the “valley”, we drove into town together. And even though we don’t talk much during our 15-20 minute commute (ha!), other than the occasional commentary on an NPR news tidbit, I really love that we have that time together. Anyway, Honey still maintains he does not want his license & that he only got it because I got pregnant & he had to. I don’t care ~ he got his license, and you have no idea how big of a milestone this is in our lives. There are countless people who have hounded him on my behalf for years, and even though he says he’s not happy he got his license, he was thinking of who he should call to tell. How cute is that?!
We got manicures & massages, and while we waited for our treatments, we got a foot soak. The manicure was like a massage in itself. I was lying down, & before actually doing my nails, she massaged my arms & hands. I slipped into a relaxed state of being that rarely happens. Even my massage, as lovely as it was, wasn’t as relaxing as my manicure.
Today we hit some craft/home decorating stores, & I got this metal “kitchen” sign, a cookbook holder (something I REALLY did need), candle holders (because you can never have too many), and yes, MORE fabric.