We've been busy walkin' our three miles every morning, shopping for food (because apparently a jam-packed fridge and an overstocked walk-in pantry just aren't enough, even after that ill-fated trip to the Farmers' Market yesterday) and whipping up feasts of spaghetti with meat sauce, shrimp and grits and chilled gazpacho, organizing the basement, baking four dozen big fat chocolate chip oatmeal cookies (my all-time favorite cookie recipe EVAH!) for the staff at Al's old office (have I mentioned Al got a new job? Remind me to tell you about that sometime), shopping for patterns and fabric so Nana can make Bean a new jumper for fall - to go with her brand spankin' new navy and white StrideRite® saddle-oxfords that I found for $1 at Goodwill about 2 years ago, selecting lovely, cuddly prints and solids for one of the winners of the blanket auction to benefit Teagan a month or so ago and scrubbing the residual green gunk out of the infamous guacamole pool. Etc. etc. etc. into ever-lovin' oblivion.
... gums a' flappin' ninety miles an hour THE. ENTIRE. TIME.
The talking NEVER CEASES, people, sun-up to sun-down... OH WHERE DOES IT ALL COME FROM? You know that weird LOUD EERIE SILENCE you hear when the LIVE CONCERT ends and you go get in your quiet car, tired and happy, to go home? I've heard that sound every time I've been to the bathroom this week. LOUD EERIE SILENCE.
Last night, my sweet husband came by my little chair here at the corner of the breakfast bar where I DO my life, and he stood beside me and put his arm around my shoulders, an invitation for me to melt into him for a moment. And I did. My head just naturally nudgled itself into That Place; the one between his shoulder and his chest, whose slight curve makes the perfect little resting place for a weary, talked-out, thought-out, laughed-out, labored-out little noggin. Always. And he stood there, silent yet speaking volumes (you know The Way They Do, sometimes, these good men of ours). And a minute passed.
And that was all it took. That's all it ever takes.
Now where's that sewing machine?