“I am always in love.” Ernest Hemingway

Just like this but with a lot of neck pain

Just like this but with a lot of neck pain

I feel a little bit like I have been run over by a cable car today. I think it’s a combination of being totally exhausted and possibly overdoing it in Barre yesterday, but I have very little patience for this shit. My life lately has become an unexpected but interesting confusing mess. Not in a bad way – actually in kind of a good way, but it is distracting me. It’s Mother’s Day, and I’m grateful to have a lovely mother and hope that all of my friends who are mothers are having a nice day, but I am going to hide out a little and lick my wounds if it’s all the same to everyone.

Today I am reading Hemingway, which makes me want to drink rum and cry a little, or just get in a plane and fly to Paris and pretend to be a writer. But I don’t want to drink rum or cry, and I really cannot fly to Paris today, and I’m already pretending to be a writer here, so I threw the Kindle down and am eating dark chocolate and watching the Dodgers instead.

Stacey just texted me a picture she saw on Facebook (which I am boycotting today – we get it, you are a mom and your kids and husbands love you and life is perfect) of my grandmother and it made me insanely happy. I miss her so much. I am reminded of a question she asked me not long before she died.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” she asked me.

“Yes, Grandma” I replied.

“Are you going to get married again?” she asked, and I immediately braced for impact. But then, “If I were you, I would not get married, I would just have a bunch of love affairs.”

She was, obviously, a frigging genius and I loved her.


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