Is 8:30pm too soon for bed?
---
I got home from Houston this afternoon. I picked up Bailey at the kennel, commenced with love, then came home and unloaded the car. I put away my new Penzey spices, made a call or two, ate dinner, and now I think I'm going to crash.
I ate a lot this weekend. And I ate like I'm not a diabetic. There was some self-medicating and 'dealing' going on. Friday night was Indian (chicken korma and a simosa), Saturday morning was egg pie, Saturday lunch was a menagerie of Turkish delights, Saturday dinner was Italian at a really great restaurant named after the proprietor's dog. This morning? Mexican.
I had beef stew for dinner. At least one meal was safe.
Tomorrow night I'll cook up a storm and it will all be safe and healthy and also delicious. (On the menu: quiche, cream of tomato basil soup, spaghetti with whole wheat pasta.)
---
I missed Leo a little this weekend. Until I recounted the story of him to a dear friend this morning. When she used the word "douchey" I remembered why I shouldn't be missing him. Let him ignore me all he wants.
---
So the old flame.
For me the flame has fizzled. No embers. No nothing except a man I'd like to be friends with.
He doesn't feel the same. The word marriage came up more times this weekend than it has in my life. The more I asked him to slow down the more he propelled himself and his intentions forward.
I didn't make the clean break I should have. I left it with a big, hearty, "I don't know. Must go very slow."
I don't want to be douchey. I should do something more clear soon.
---
Goodnight. My two best girls and I are heading to bed.
No comments:
Post a Comment