Obsessed...

It's sick - we're stuck in the worst winter ever (well since last winter) and there's no sign of spring, but here's my latest treasure.... vintage ornaments.

My rationale is that you have to shop year-round. Or you'll never find it when you need it. So when I found this stash of ornaments at my favorite junk store, I pounced.

Love. Sigh.

If we could only skip from Christmas to Easter, life would be grand.

One room in my basement is filled with Christmas treasure. It makes my husband practically weep when he sees the stacks of dusty old boxes, because the poor man hates clutter. He calls it dead people's stuff & when he says it, I always wonder who will hoard this stuff of mine when I croak.

Hopefully someone crazy enough to buy Christmas in March, to take a Sunday morning to wipe away the years of dust and carefully pack each piece to survive another year.

First time

I'm really not sure what I want to say here.

Not true - I have a myriad (or a 'madrid' in a nod to a former confused co-worker) of thoughts all tangled up in my head . I'm no good at sorting or organizing - thoughts or anything in my home or on my desk.....

So here goes the first thought that my fingers catch - I am losing my gay husband. Losing physical proximity to him. He & his real wife are moving to Seattle, which isn't a hop, skip & a jump from the 'burgh.

It makes me so so sad. It's hard to admit, but let's face it - when you aren't experiencing the same things together, things get lost in the translation. It takes work then, kiddies. And it makes me mental when I hear that you have to work at keeping a relationship.

Why are people so proud to say 'I work at my relationship'? Work = toil. Work = effort. Work = yuk. I want to fall into a relationship and speak the same language and laugh at the same things and love the person I'm with. I don't love my co-workers and I don't want to work at love. Do you?

But this 'marriage' and my real marriage are the real deals, so I'm going to roll up my sleeves & get to work. Make it work, in the immortal words of Ms. Gunn.