“Will you be my valentine?” I asked Ming.
“Will you be my Thanksgiving?” he asked me.
“Yeah! I would be good at that!” I said. “Every day!”
Turkeys, feasts, fake pilgrims, buckle hats, hand-turkeys, my mom, stuffing, cliche arguments, dressing up fake, cranberry sauce, death, graveyard, flower, grave placard, Alfie’s fish & chips, my dad, forgotten bread rolls, sweet potatoes, death, roast potatoes, mashed potatoes, relish tray, we already ate the olives, one green onion, when the kids were little, Christmas time beginning. The sweetest adventure is what lies ahead. Colonialism, what we take, what we leave behind.
favorite smell
On facebook there’s a hangout for the UU church I don’t go to. There’s a daily checkin question, and I submitted some guest questions, which are being used. I feel happy because people are liking my questions.
Favorite smell and favorite candy as a child are going over well. Tons of people are answering.
I said my favorite smell is snow. I’m feeling comforted-excited, to imagine the smell of snow. Wish I could lie down on my tummy in a forest and sniff the smell of snow forever.
But usually my favorite smell is Ming, or dirt. Yeah, fresh dirt. Wow, what a good smell.
I admitted to myself that other smells I really like are cruciferous veg like tree collards, horse manure, and skunk. Those all kind of have something in common… I never admitted I love how horse manure smells.
Is there something wrong with me? Yes, known issue. Thanks for reporting it, Laura-Marie!
refuge
Yesterday morning, I was talking to Ming as he fell asleep over and over. We were cuddling in bed.
“Refuge,” he told me from a dream. “You need refuge.”
“You having a dream, honey?” I asked.
“You need refuge,” he said. I love that word and was thinking about a beach in my homeland called Refugio.
poon
My grocery list looks like I’m asking for poon juice. I told Ming that sounds obscene. “Don’t buy poon juice!’ I said. We were laughing. He knew what I meant.
