Journaling life and thoughts from a sleepy bedroom community outside Atlanta, GA. Feel free to call it God's country.
Monday, August 21, 2006
LISTS, MUSSELS AND OTHER APHRODISIACS
This morning at 8:01am I watched my handsome husband finish packing for a flight for which he's meeting his travelling companion at the airport at 9:30am. I became acutely aware that I was shaking my head and tsking softly to myself, clenching and unclenching my fists and tapping my toe. HE on the other hand was totally calm, humming even. "What time does your flight leave?" I asked him, knowing full well to the minute what time his flight leaves. I have his itinerary loaded in Outlook and synched to my handheld. "Can't remember," he singsongs. "Soon." I had to leave the room.
Speaking of handsome husband humming. Wow, he has a great voice - very peaceful but strong, much like James Taylor's. He doesn't sing much on cue, never in front of anyone else solo, but when he's relaxed sometimes I can convince him to sing for me. Friday night after we left the funeral home Ronny's brother and his wife went with us to eat at the family owned Italian restaurant on the square. Love to go there because they DON'T have grilled-chee-sammys and my kids will eat ee-gondo-nomo plates of authentic spaghetti, also because when I say family owned I mean Italian family right off the boat. Back on track - so I order up the mussels sauteed in marinara over whatever pasta who cares all I want is the mussels. Meanwhile sister-in-law is ordering the reserve wine remember she's the wine expert. Husband and his brother who look soooooo much alike that SIL and I have learned not to put our arms around who we THINK are our husbands from the back side are discussing something that MUST be critical to life forms as we know it because they're kicked back on the back two legs of their chair (I wonder if Italian Mamas get as pissed off about that as I do at home. . .), their arms are crossed, and in front of them sit Corona lights like rockets at the ready. The waitress expressed shock when they didn't want them poured, but preferred the bottle but hey hello they're Southern. My kids are coloring placemats. I'm the DD. Well well well. Somebody's gotta do it. I drew the short straw.
So on the way home I'm driving and handsome hubby's humming and after two Corona lights I take my cue and put in Paul Simon Still Crazy After All These Years. It worked. Got mussels and hubby singing to me all in one night. How lucky can one girl get?
So now he's on an airplane and I have made four lists already. Only one is on paper - the other three are paperless on Outlook and synched to my Q, but lists nonetheless. Upon completion of each list I notice I breathe better. Have more energy. Could this room be lighter? ? ? . . . brighter??
Maybe it's that bodacious goodbye kiss handsome husband planted on me before he hopped in the car to cruise, list-less, to the airport.
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