Your patience, your willingness to remain in Stand By as I navigate some pretty fascinating waters, is applauded by me. Endlessly. Relentlessly. Without pause. But I must keep applauding, because I must ask you to be a bit more patient.
In the 14 months that I have been writing to you, I have not stepped out of story telling mode for a post because it’s not how I write. Apparently it’s not how I speak either, as a friend told me recently.
You talk like you write!
I do. I like the narrative approach. But tonight I have to just come in and kiss, kiss and be off to bed. And here’s why:
This should come as a zero sum surprise to you given that January is the one year anniversary of the dissolution of my marriage. In the 13 days since my former wedding anniversary (January 10th) I have received and accepted an offer on the house, made a verbal commitment to rent our next home, and got picked up in the parking lot of Trader Joe’s by a dashing man. (I meet the most interesting people at that parking lot – you must go.) Not literally mind you. Meaning, I didn’t fall. Which wouldn’t be something out of the ordinary for me. I face plant on occasion.
Usually the worst possible occasions.
I am also afflicted with the same Betty Davis disease that has wormed its way through Marin and most of the country, I hear. We all sound the same – voices horse from smoking 3 packs of Pall Malls while calling a football game without a microphone, in a rain storm. Naked. As we greet each other at the playground, young and old, we all sound like we went straight from a bender to drop-off. Not that I would know what that feels like.
My head is pounding, my limbs are limp. My sinuses on lock down. I’m not hungry, which is a blessing because I haven’t worked out but once in the last week. Being a Swede that can mean a whole new wardrobe if I’m not cautious.
The worst part is the exhaustion. It’s 9 PM and I can barely keep my eyes open. I am so sorry, but I have to sleep. There is a post in the midst of being born (let’s call it 8 centimeters dilated) that I hope will be worth the wait. And then after we spend some time trying to understand why lying has become our universal language, I am going to tell you about some pretty epic magic that has been wafting about the hills of Marin.
The perfect family is buying the house. Their children said it was the best open house ever. A married couple will make a home here for the rest of their days, as the home originally hoped. We just couldn’t pull that one off. I know it’s going to be loved and cared for and that leaves me feeling peaceful about moving on.
I have found the most unbelievable place to live. The dudes and I went there today. In the mist and rain I watched them run free through ground clouds, chasing each other around sculptures (uh-huh) and zooming off into the trees in search of a resident gopher. I absolutely cannot tell you more because this needs to be savored. Described in detail. We were there for 45 minutes but it felt like I went to Europe, or back in time, or to Utopia and stayed for two weeks.
And then the parking lot of Trader Joe’s. Oh. But you know my modus operandi, and if I forget it please remind me – I am not looking for That Man. I am not looking for any man. I welcome copious amounts of friends and am especially fond of eye candy. Which, knowing me as you do, does not mean a bunch of male models. I’m changing eye candy to soul candy. Delicious people are soul candy. And I love candy.
You will not believe the series of events that have unfolded since I integrated the lessons of the last year. (I believe Operation Kerchief was the point of integration.) If some of you thought I was making stuff up before you are for sure going to think that Cleo Everest is the product of a round table writing session in LA.
I promise I am not. I am real. Stuffed up and desperately in need of 10 hours of sleep. But first house documents to sign. My aim is to have the post up tomorrow night. I know you know how much I adore you and appreciate your support.
Magic is in the air. I think it took some HGH.