I am about to open the document that will eventually become the book. Now titled, potential beginning, 95 pages, proofread. I feel a wave of panic come and once again subside.
Because I open Maira Kalman's blog, "The Pursuit of Happiness" and I am reminded again of why I love Amy.
LOVE Amy. I want to say.
I can see Mike Amodio shake his head. Wishing I would stick to getting dates by quoting Thomas Merton. He believes it is possible to love a friend too much.
Such bullshit.
I can get dates when I want them, I think to reiterate, but I am not so sure that is actually true. So I laugh a little about that,
and the fact that Amy and I think we are amazingly good catches.
Maira Kalman's entry is about food and I realize I want to be a farmer. My family owns land, enough of it, and I want to go to bed tired with my hands callused. (but I want to spell it calloused.)
I can hear Amy laugh, able to realize that I am both completely serious and once again being a little ridiculous. We both know she has never really seen me work a hard day in my life without "coming down with something" and quite honestly needing a nap.
Romantic versions of everything.
It is Kalman's picture of the egg on the plate that makes me smile. Or the special spoon she shows holding the egg over an open flame. And I think we shall try that, someday.
Amy and I drink our juice out of silver cups, the ones she found that day in the market outside of Budapest. Our milk is high in fat content (when I do the shopping) and is always foamed for the coffee we drink out of glass cups with the scalloped edges. I can't remember a day when breakfast wasn't carefully prepared and plated.
I turned down breakfast (cold cereal) yesterday and opted for just a cup of coffee, which was topped with soy milk.
I said it was fine, when I was warned.
But, the truth is, I don't think I have ever believed in soy.
(or ever really knew Thomas Merton besides Mike's senior yearbook quote).
But I pretend...
"I am not here." I thought, as I sat for awhile anyway.
There is so much passing of the time
it feels a little tiring, to be honest.
But, tomorrow,
well,
tomorrow will be very different.
Perhaps that is why it felt a little easier to push the panic away, today.
Because I open Maira Kalman's blog, "The Pursuit of Happiness" and I am reminded again of why I love Amy.
LOVE Amy. I want to say.
I can see Mike Amodio shake his head. Wishing I would stick to getting dates by quoting Thomas Merton. He believes it is possible to love a friend too much.
Such bullshit.
I can get dates when I want them, I think to reiterate, but I am not so sure that is actually true. So I laugh a little about that,
and the fact that Amy and I think we are amazingly good catches.
Maira Kalman's entry is about food and I realize I want to be a farmer. My family owns land, enough of it, and I want to go to bed tired with my hands callused. (but I want to spell it calloused.)
I can hear Amy laugh, able to realize that I am both completely serious and once again being a little ridiculous. We both know she has never really seen me work a hard day in my life without "coming down with something" and quite honestly needing a nap.
Romantic versions of everything.
It is Kalman's picture of the egg on the plate that makes me smile. Or the special spoon she shows holding the egg over an open flame. And I think we shall try that, someday.
Amy and I drink our juice out of silver cups, the ones she found that day in the market outside of Budapest. Our milk is high in fat content (when I do the shopping) and is always foamed for the coffee we drink out of glass cups with the scalloped edges. I can't remember a day when breakfast wasn't carefully prepared and plated.
I turned down breakfast (cold cereal) yesterday and opted for just a cup of coffee, which was topped with soy milk.
I said it was fine, when I was warned.
But, the truth is, I don't think I have ever believed in soy.
(or ever really knew Thomas Merton besides Mike's senior yearbook quote).
But I pretend...
"I am not here." I thought, as I sat for awhile anyway.
There is so much passing of the time
it feels a little tiring, to be honest.
But, tomorrow,
well,
tomorrow will be very different.
Perhaps that is why it felt a little easier to push the panic away, today.
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