It has reached 120 degrees in the fucking shade in Arizona.
I am too sweaty to write.
I made you a soundtrack for your Summer romance though.
Just on the off chance you live somewhere cool enough to have a Summer romance.
In Arizona you don't leave your house often enough between May and September to meet anyone, let alone consider letting them get all pressed up against you.
I feel a tad sheepish being excited about it, seeing as how I only started working this week on Wednesday.
But fuck it, Fridays are awesome and it's ALWAYS something to be happy about.
So let's wrap this week up, shall we?
...
On this Day Last Year
Bill and I were getting back together for the second time.
If you've read the love story you know all about how that turns out.
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Overheard This Week:
Jackson: Mommy how old is Papa?
Me: How old do you think he is?
Jackson: Mmmmm I think he's like...maybe 8?
Me: Yep, you're exactly right. He's 8.
Jackson: How old are you?
Me: How old do you think I am?
Jackson: I think you arrrrrrre.......10?
Me: Yes, exactly right. I'm 10.
Jackson: And I'm 3.
Me: Yes.
Jackson: Almost 4
Me: Yes.
Jackson: And Bill is 10 too, he's old like you.
Me: Sure.
Jackson: I just know everything {as he stares pensively out the window}
...
The Truth About Jetlag:
It's a sneaky bastard.
It can take days to catch up to you, or you can be on your ass for days on end right from the start.
And it fucks up weird shit, like your sleeping pattern will be fine but you'll be inexplicably hungry at super weird times, and not when you should be.
We flew in on Tuesday evening, and I went to bed at 9 p.m.
My body tried once or twice to wake me up at 3 in the morning, but I insisted on sleep and ended up bright eyed and bushy tailed at 6 a.m. thinking everything would be fine.
EXCEPTOHMYGODI'MHUNGRY.
I was freaking starving.
I would've eaten just about anything you put in front of me.
So I ate my breakfast, which was totally normal sized, and went to work.
I proceeded to not be hungry again until 4, and then again at 8, and then be woken up by my hunger at 12.
And now, it's 4:23 in the morning and I am sitting up writing this, because I passed out at 10 without warning, and cannot find it in me to sleep another wink, which will cause my inevitable face down crash into my keyboard at 3 pm today.
Fuck you, jetlag.
Fuck you.
...
In Case You Were Wondering...
How getting Jackson to sleep in his own bed is going....
Well. Now you know.
...
Speaking of Jackson, look who got a haircut:
While Mommy was in Italy.
I almost cried when I saw it.
But he's saying he likes it, so I guess that's what matters.
Yesterday's post was sad and weepy and heavy and dark, and quite self serving.
But I appreciate you all listening, and I very much appreciate the kind and insightful comments I received that were completely without judgment.
That's awesome.
And the texts from friends who saw the post, offering a shoulder to cry on and someone to listen, and reminding me that for every time I fuck up, I do at least two things that are equally awesome, so I should stop crying because no one likes a big vagina.
I have the best friends.
As a reward for all of your love and sarcasm, I decided I would give you a little musical gold to wrap up your day with.
You probably already heard these, but they're new to me, and it's my blog.
I do what I want.
Anyway, we'll start off with Lana Del Ray, and her amazing, deep, sultry voice that is so unlike all the high and whiny pop shit out there.
Once you calm down after watching that sexpot video, you can move on to a new song by Jason Mraz that so completely reminds me of Bill and I right now, it actually made me cry tears when I heard it on my drive home tonight.
Hopefully this makes up for all my bitching and whining yesterday.
Thanks for listening.
Haha, get it? Thanks for listening? Like, to my bitching AND to the songs I posted?
DOUBLE MEANING.
