Creeping Through The Cellar Door (none_too_subtle) wrote,
Creeping Through The Cellar Door
none_too_subtle

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Happiness is...

...having your 11-year-old tell you that it doesn't take toys, trips or games to have fun; but only takes my company. Awwwwwww. :) That really made me feel good. Time literally flies when we're together, despite whether we're actively doing anything or not.



When she got home, I could tell by looking at her that she really missed me. I think moms can always tell this kind of thing. Her eyes have remained transfixed on my face since her return, following me from room to room, and helping me hook up our game system in the living room. I think she just missed her head/back rub and arm scratches, if you ask me. :) Just looking into eyes that love you so much makes you feel like you have enough love to spread throughout the entire world, with the object of your love in the center. If we don't learn this one lesson in life, then we've completely missed the point in being here.

Loooooong day but I survived. I *think* I was the only one (at least to my knowledge) who actually had work to do. O GOODY. I finished it rather quickly, so that Adele and I were able to spend concentrated time together. We went through a lot of my hardcover books in the shelves, both of us seated on the floor, and my giving her a synopsis of most of 'em (the decent ones, anyway). She went shopping with her dad today, and picked up even more crafts to add to her collection of 57823498947 haven't-yet-finished ones. *I* actually like some of her crafts *gulp.* Especially the beaded keyring thingies. Heh. :) It's almost like putting a puzzle together with someone. You're able to engage in free-form conversation without filtering or editing what you say or how you think. I live for moments like these, whether it be with Adele, or those close to me. It reminds me of childhood, when Vicki and I would spends hours and days writing books, comics and illustrating all of them; picking out every piece of furniture to go in our 'dream house when we were old enough and unmarried,' dancing to ABBA, and sharing our dreams, both make-believe and literal dreams we had the night before. Hahahaha. Those were the days. Vicki is now completely agoraphobic. Sad. She had incredible raw talent. I often wonder if she's done anything with it, yet can't 'find' anything under ner name. I remember when her mom was first published in Reader's Digest. I thought that was the coolest thing ever. Vicki used to be fond of saying -- in grade six no less -- that her mother lived off of Pepsi, Valium and Percocet. LOVELY. At the time, that meant nothing to me. Age and wisdom that should follow definitely swath our information with a new blanket. She also claimed to be a 'witch,' and stayed in bed almost all day. OH IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW. She, in my opinion, was the original 'goth.' Heh.

Deenar. I ate a late dinner, and Adele tried to snag all my tomatoes. THE NERVE. I only had one lil burrito, and am still hungry. So the question right now is do I eat one more, or go to bed? Do I finish writing the story I've been working on? My inclination is to nest, but it would keep Adele awake. I do have a lot to do tomorrow work-wise, but will have time in between to take care of domestic nightmares. Thank GOD dishes aren't one of 'em. I've also gotta figure out a way to arrange furniture so it's more user-friendly in here.

But my bedroom remains, by far, the WORST room in the hizzous.


Must. TAKE. CARE. OF. THIS. Despite how often I 'move' videos BACK to my shelves and entertainment center, I wind up with 50 stacked up in places they don't belong. I've gotta figure out a system to avoid this from happening because it's NO FUN moving them back and forth in 20's and 30's at a time, especially when ya drop 'em.

Am getting a little tired and think I'll mosey on to bed after I read my friend's pages. Still haven't done the beheading I'd planned a few days' ago, but oh yes...it will happen. Truthfully? I'm not here to win a popularity contest (CLEARLY); and so I'm not concerned with the inevitable onslaught of "I Hate TerriIsms" that will assuredly occur once I lose 'em.

SO?



Git along, little doggy.
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