dream: a strong hand over mine, silk dresses, this vintage beaded purse set aside for romantic evenings. dinner is something delicious and slightly sinful.
reality: in the yard, rinsing a blouse free from drops of coffee that have leaked through the space between lid and cup. i want to swear to never touch the stuff again, but what else will abet me in my grand plan of staying alive through 9am psychometrics seminars?
We do have lovely evenings. Work got a bit overwhelming a couple of weeks ago, and sam decided that Friday Nights are now Juju Nights, which delights me to no end. Anyone can buy fancy earrings and pretty things (which I still gleefully accept, just saying), but only love tolerates the occasional lady meltdown, knows that time out of a crazy busy schedule is just as precious, and that a simple dinner isn’t bad when you’ve got a heaping cone of caramel and butter popcorn to share afterwards. One month to five years! x