rainy dreams

It finally rained here. It has been so muggy and steamy. I prayed for rain. I don't pray. So that means a lot. Are muggy and steamy the same thing?

I love the rain. I love the thunder and the way my heart jumps when it gets so close. As if to threaten me, but never too much. A scary movie. Pushing me right to the edge. And then the end almost always happens to be a sunny cool day. And I'll walk around the block looking at houses freshly washed. Imagining myself on the other side of those bay windows. Smiling at my child as we pack to go to the park. My daughter's shoes would get muddy because the ground is still soaked. She won't care, but I will shake my head thinking about how I will clean those stains out of the carpet later. I'll wonder why I ever agreed to get white carpet. And I'll remember we both dreamed of white carpet. Because that's what we saw in the catalogues.

I'd sit and watch my daughter play. I might read the recent David Sedaris or The New Yorker. I'd smell the air. And in that breath I would taste water. I can't explain it well, but the air tastes dense. And only like water tastes going down after being thirsty for hours. I'd laugh at my daughter twirling in the sun. She'd have friends because her personality would be bubbly and pleasant. No one could help but love her.

Antwann would call saying he was on his way home from work. I'd invite him into the park. Minutes later he would be at the gate to the park. He'd still have his work clothes on. He's wearing a black pin striped suit. The jacket is tucked in his right hand. His smile is small as we catch eyes. He leans down, cuffing his pants up, and I point to him for our daughter. Her eyes bug out as she darts to him. He grabs her in his arms. He lovingly bites at her neck pretending to be the Cookie Monster. She throws her head back in glee. I sit watching and then I breath. And it tastes like home right after a hard Chicago rain.

I'm scared for Paula

So sad, no? She is spiralling away. Do you remember how spunky she was? Are you even watching? I suggest you do. You then won't be surprised when she checks into rehab. You would instead hear the news shrug your shoulders and think, "She didn't even know how to speak." If you can't gets your words out. If even after stopping and reflecting, you still can't muster a coherent sentence. Then you have a problem. Is it drugs? Alzheimers? In her case I pick the sooner. I think it was the episode where she couldn't say recipient. Did I have a hard time spelling that word? Yes. Difference in the vocal and written. She tried five times and came up with words like receivary. Not sure if that was really one she said. I will slate that under comic effect.

What's so hard about this show is she isn't fun. She doesn't make me laugh, except her butt walk. That was funny. I just get sad watching her. I watch unable to blink while her staff constantly drag her around the U.S. but never to a rehab. I believe her when she says she doesn't take recreational drugs (cocaine, heroin, or glint). I do believe she takes many drugs though. I am sure she has a scrip for each. I believe she has some disease. I also believe that half the drugs she takes have nothing to do with that disease. Thank you.

still house-wifing

I cleaned today. I know, exciting. I was stunned at how bored I became. I despise cleaning. Getting the gunk around the drains and waters spots on the faucet. All so mundane. I had to sit and take breaks. Not from exhaustion, but from boredom. A change of scenery was necessary. I'm in the kitchen. I could just spit at those water spots mocking me. I scrub them away. The sink dries. Then water spots all over. Vicious cycles.

Living in a new city is what I thought it would be. Different. I don't know what is around the corner. I know how to get to the nearest Target. That makes me feel at home. I know once a job is there I will be fine. For now I tool away each day. Tasks manage my boredom. I want to experience the city. I'll wait though. I would rather do that with Antwann. Memories are always better when they are shared. Someone to say with you, "I was there it happened." Maybe it's because I don't trust my own memories. I bet I will think about that for 1/2 an hour before I go to bed tonight.

Am I a stay at home spouse?

Today was all tasky things. We just recently moved to Chicago. So I picked up all sorts of things (swiffer, scrubs, steel wool, and nilla wafers). You know the really important things. Oh did I mention I have no job. I have no job.

I began the day with walking our dog, Nelson. We named him that because we wanted it to be something silly. I love that name, but really mostly for the silliness of it. Do you remember Nels from Little House on the Prairie? I call Nelson that all the time. I loved that show. I still don't totally understand or believe how Mary went blind. And then didn't she regain her sight? Was that possible in that time? I feel like Michael London got tired of carting her ass around the Prairie. I know, "don't speak ill of the dead." Bleh. I love him as much as you.

Okay I am going to eat what I made last night. It didn't really sit well afterwards, but my bowels never really stop me from eating things.

another point

I am not going to fill out that profile thingy. That just seems taxing to me. You will get to know me (if you don't already). I hope this is the last point to make.

Point made.

this is a blog

This is simple. I will talk about my life. Stories. Pop culture. Small amount of politics. Small amount of everything else under the sun. If you are bored let me know. If you love it let me know. If you hate me let me know.