Romantic Language

 Each relationship with have it's own. There is no universal language of love. After forty years of marriage  I still thrill to our own personal endearments and cringe when a generic happens to pass his lips. Our private names are just for us and not used within the hearing of others. Pillow talk remains, just that; either a postprandial prelude to bed or a post coital tete a tete.

Personal experience has not been a help to me in my quest to compile a list of endearments for a work project and  perusing the Internet has convinced me that creativity is in it's death throes. It seems those who blog think, Angel, Baby, BabyGirl, BabyDoll, Big Boy, Bear, Boo, Bunny,Cutie, Darling, Dear, Dickie, Dickie Bird, Honey, Love, Luv, Sugar, Sunshine, Sweetheart, Sweetie, Sugar tits, Sweet buns, Gorgeous, Handsome, Hon, Honey, Kitten, Love, Pookie, Princess, Pumpkin, Shorty, Sugar are creative and worthy of sharing .

Oh how I despair! 

So it was a great pleasure to stumble upon the following  old blog post. I imagine the  author to now be   romantically involved, not doubt with a poet who appreciates her way with words. Sadly the blog has not been updated since 2011.

http://people.tribe.net/caroleeena/blog/1d46fdc3-0bfc-45ae-854a-49df838a0323

So what about you ? Pressed for words of love  how would you  address your beloved?

Well Hello!

Blogger has this wonderful dashboard that lets me see what time you arrived , how long you stayed, what posts you looked at and, what country you accessed the blog from. It's a lot of information but really not very satisfying . I would be ever so grateful if you answered my poll or perhaps left me a comment. Of course if you don't want to I 'll be fine but it would be very nice to hear from you.

Come and play!

Dear Neighbour,

I'm breaking up with you. I know it's been awhile and perhaps you thought I wasn't paying attention but I was. Really the problem is my lawn and your dog - it's toxic. So, gather up your shit and don't come back.

What we do.

We buy CDs. We like to choose and handle our music. Bringing home new music to share is a gift like roses or wine. Later we discover a recording that has fallen out of play and we nod and smile and share it again.

Ancient History: Beyond the Hedge; Shift worker morning

1/24/08
Shift worker morning;day off.

Groggy morning, woolly muffy morning no need to tumble down the stairs. I awake on the chesterfield, a dim ribbon of morning light from under the window blind ignites my bleary eyes. Rambling into the kitchen I see the residue of his morning pot of coffee still in the carafe at the back of the stove. I touch the glass side and feel the residual heat. I nuke it, add cream and return to my nest of covers. Savoring the aroma and heat I see the remnants of the sunrise as I swim forward into the day.

I consider my mental to do list. No time to linger. People close by; hands on my hair, my body; a bath is in order. Still cupping the coffee I drift towards the bathroom and while I wait I put the warm mug against my sinus and watch the tub slowly fill. "God , my shoulder hurts "I think as I tentatively begin to bend, twist and flex.

High on caffeine and restorative bathwater I dry quickly and pull on clothes-new clothes. The exhilaration of simple indulgences after a long period of unemployment lifts me from my fog. In spite of the weather outside, I rummage though the bottom of the closet for my favourite boots. I rifle through his drawer for wool work socks to make the footwear work.

At the bus shelter a young women with a rainbow hat waits. I notice her mitts are rainbow too. "Have you been here long?” I ask. “Not long but I expect the next bus soon” she says. She is my first conscious connection of the day. Her youth, her mittens, the wonderful whimsical messenger bag draped across her young frame make me warm to her and we talk. I talk, she talks. I notice the volume of traffic and then she tells me of a detour down this street in front of us, of an accident a fatal accident a few blocks away over night, of a barricaded crime scene. My ebullience gone I consider for the first time being late for my appointment. Sobered, I apologize for being so chatty as the bus pulls up.

I pass up a number of single seats and make my way to towards the back, up one step to a double seat. Seconds later, she slips in beside me and our conversation resumes.