I have many ideas of fun, but none of them encompass the idea of going to a place where you eat lots of brown rice and tofu, and spend four hour stretches staring at a wall and meditating.
Do that to me, and I'd be screaming something about the Geneva Convention in a heartbeat. This, however, is my spousal unit's idea of a vacation.
Some guys will do ANYTHING to get a week away from the wife, eh.
Yep, so this morning Paul got up insanely early, gathered up all his meditation stuff and headed off to a Buddhist retreat in New York State. The kitties and I padded downstairs to say good-bye, the three of us all squinty-eyed and goofy with sleep.
Years and years of marriage have honed his survival instincts. The spousal unit's learned not to say a word about bedhead, although he could not help but laugh at how discombobulated his bon voyage committee looked.
The door was barely closed behind him when the three of us immediately headed back upstairs to the bed for some more zzzzz's. The kitties just HATE it when their 21 1/2 hours of daily sleep is interrupted, eh.
The spousal unit and I are an odd couple in many ways. He has a deeply spiritual side and I'm an agnostic, a spiritual sceptic. I am a woman who adores words, and he's a man of few words.
And yet, somehow, it works. Not always smoothly, and not without alot of effort, but it works.
This morning, when I came down to breakfast there was a little note. He teased me about my absent-mindedness about all things electrical, made a long list of other things to be careful about and then closed with the words "I miss you already."
I miss him already, too.
Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -
.:Adventures In Oz:.
.:12% Beer:. .:Links:. .:Host:. .:Archives:.
This template is a riff on a design by the truly talented Quinn. Because I'm a html 'tard, I got alot of pity coding to modify it from Ms. Kittay, a woman who can make html roll over, beg, and bring her her slippers. The logo goodness comes from the God of Graphics, the Fuhrer of Fonts, the one, the only El Presidente. I smooch you all. The background image is part of a painting called Higher Calling by Carter Goodrich which graced the cover of the Aug. 3, 1998 issue of The New Yorker Magazine. Kids, don't try viewing this at home without Netscape 6 or IE 4.5+, a screen resolution of 800 X 600 and the font Mead Bold firmly ensconced on your hard drive.
©2000, 2001, 2002 Marn. This is me, dagnabbit. You be you.