all my little words
For those of you that know what happened LAST year during Girl Scout Cookie time, let me just say that we are out of the woods on that one. In a week I've managed to down copious amounts of thin mints. Today I've logged eight. So far. They're so handy! They go down so easily with hot tea! (Or milk, or water, or...) They are so much tastier than the other things I bought to satiate ye olde oral fixation!
Day 2 of no smoking. Whew. Last night as I was trying to go to sleep I was thinking about George, his day, how it was pretty much just like any other day, aside from the Quincy'sesque soup and the walk I took in the near-full-moonlight, wondering if I really did enough for him. I lit a candle but that's not really anything new, I thought about him, but that isn't either...funny how I didn't even consider the smoking to be much of an homage, despite the fact that it's a pretty big deal for me, because it had only been one day. One little measely day. And then I realized how silly that was, how really the only way to do anything, to move forward, to out the old and in the new, is to take it day by day. One day at a time. Where is Valerie Burtinelli when I need her??
So I decided to be proud of my one little day, because that shit will GROW, yo. As a reward I am whitening my teeth with some Crest whitestrips that I scored from Dottie, who was apparently stockpiling for the Great Crest White Strips Depression of the New Millenia, the same person who, last night upon hearing the news said she wouldn't believe it til it had been a year, thanks Mom, and now my teeth feel like they are tripping on acid. Like each of them is having their own individual psychedelic journey and they are tingly and throbbing but also happy albeit oddly so.
So Valentine's day was kind of a bust, but I think I liked it better that way. As I was walking down the street last night, I passed three restaurants' windows and observed the various couples smiling coyly, dressed to the hilt*, lingering over their oversized wine glasses and maybe glancing at me as I passed by, bundled up, alone, tear-stained. I was thinking of them in such a way that I kind of felt sorry for them, because I no longer feel what I used to feel about the day, I no longer need that kind of show, and it's so strange to me because it doesn't really go with my personality much. Granted, I would never say no to a romantic show of affection, but I don't expect it any more. But who would know that watching me walk past them? I imagine I looked sad. I had been crying after all. I almost stopped dead in my tracks when I realized that maybe people could TELL I'd been crying from their tables, maybe they saw my fresh tears and thought, 'oh, poor girl, she's sad because she's alone on Valentine's Day.' The tears pretty much dried the fuck up right then and there.
*Dot-Dot, who was the queen of malapropisms, used to say that people were 'dressed to the kilt'! Incidentally I am wearing a kilt today.
Day 2 of no smoking. Whew. Last night as I was trying to go to sleep I was thinking about George, his day, how it was pretty much just like any other day, aside from the Quincy'sesque soup and the walk I took in the near-full-moonlight, wondering if I really did enough for him. I lit a candle but that's not really anything new, I thought about him, but that isn't either...funny how I didn't even consider the smoking to be much of an homage, despite the fact that it's a pretty big deal for me, because it had only been one day. One little measely day. And then I realized how silly that was, how really the only way to do anything, to move forward, to out the old and in the new, is to take it day by day. One day at a time. Where is Valerie Burtinelli when I need her??
So I decided to be proud of my one little day, because that shit will GROW, yo. As a reward I am whitening my teeth with some Crest whitestrips that I scored from Dottie, who was apparently stockpiling for the Great Crest White Strips Depression of the New Millenia, the same person who, last night upon hearing the news said she wouldn't believe it til it had been a year, thanks Mom, and now my teeth feel like they are tripping on acid. Like each of them is having their own individual psychedelic journey and they are tingly and throbbing but also happy albeit oddly so.
So Valentine's day was kind of a bust, but I think I liked it better that way. As I was walking down the street last night, I passed three restaurants' windows and observed the various couples smiling coyly, dressed to the hilt*, lingering over their oversized wine glasses and maybe glancing at me as I passed by, bundled up, alone, tear-stained. I was thinking of them in such a way that I kind of felt sorry for them, because I no longer feel what I used to feel about the day, I no longer need that kind of show, and it's so strange to me because it doesn't really go with my personality much. Granted, I would never say no to a romantic show of affection, but I don't expect it any more. But who would know that watching me walk past them? I imagine I looked sad. I had been crying after all. I almost stopped dead in my tracks when I realized that maybe people could TELL I'd been crying from their tables, maybe they saw my fresh tears and thought, 'oh, poor girl, she's sad because she's alone on Valentine's Day.' The tears pretty much dried the fuck up right then and there.
*Dot-Dot, who was the queen of malapropisms, used to say that people were 'dressed to the kilt'! Incidentally I am wearing a kilt today.