You’re so vain

Remember when

we danced in the kitchen?

we did it on Amtrak? and not in a sleeper car?

we moved the ottoman over in front of the couch, stretched out our legs, and sat there night after night with the blanket covering us?

you said I was born to be with you?

you held my hand when my best friend’s father died?

you pulled up the leg of my jeans and stuck your finger in the top of my sock because it was winter and we were dressed like Eskimos and it was the most easily available bit of my skin for you to touch?

we sat in the kitchen of my third floor apartment on top of the hill and smoked a joint and ate Subway and watched the blizzard out that huge old window?

my dog died?

we both had insomnia and so we passed Bartlett’s back and forth and quizzed each other half the night?

I had cancer and was afraid to get out of bed and you pulled me out and helped me?

you walked me to my car and wrapped me in your coat and kissed me good night and we turned around and went back inside and got in bed?

I read biographies out loud to you in the car to pass the time on long trips?

we were flat on our backs in the pitch dark looking for constellations?

I put my nose in the middle of your chest and smelled you?

we chopped together and made really good things to eat?

our hair froze in the hot tub during a snow storm?

we first met and I sat on my hands so I wouldn’t touch you?

that one persistent seagull kept dive-bombing my head and you had to fight him off? My hero!

we did the crossword Sunday mornings and you never left until we had every square filled in?

I got a new puppy and you came in and said how are we ever going to have sex with that nut around so I shoved peanut butter and broken dog cookies in his toy and you said you should contact those Kong people I see a new advertising campaign in their future?

we did it in your truck at lunch? 25 times?

I called you and said its going to storm come and be snowbound with me?

you said you’d never leave me?

Me too.


But you haven’t had my potato salad

So my first blog post has come because I had a rant on Facebook yesterday that confirmed for me I need a different kind of forum for my “feelings”.  And my Facebook post made reference to a rant with which my family is very familiar – potato salad.

I hate it.

You take nice, lovely, warm, cooked potatoes and you make them cold.  Then you coat them with cold grease (mayonnaise).  Then you eat it and everyone says isn’t this delicious.  No it is not delicious.  And some well-meaning person/people, always women, will say “But you haven’t had my potato salad”.  Well your potato salad sucks too because it involves cold and mealy potatoes and cold grease.  Just sayin’.

This is great.  A place where I can bitch.  And the whole world can see it.  If they want.  While I was typing this, I was making a list on my little pink pad of other topics about which I have numerous opinions.

Some of my thoughts for future discourse include, in no special order – my dog Mike, organized religion, Maine, my nephew Jake, meatloaf, one of my former employers OK its Mintz & Hoke, Paris, my friends and our “Supper Club”, infertility and ectopic pregnancy and lost and broken dreams, Facebook and why I love it.  Wow – that whole list took me 5 seconds to write.

Be back soon…