Not so visually erotic

So if you can actually do a great cover of a Dylan classic, full of sultry sexy smoothness, why the hell would you put together this circus train wreck of a video?



And I think that lady charges by the hour. Just saying.

Probably not my last death related post.

I was talking to a friend tonight and was reminded of a really good friend from high school.  He told me his parents met at a grocery store.  They went out for coffee that night, talked until morning and got married the next day.  17 years later she went to bed with a headache and never woke up.  Aneurysm.  It was horrible.  Everyone just kind of stopped being, as if there life had ended too.  Love like that will do that to you.  And I'm not sure which is worse, being the one who is gone, or being the ones left behind.  I think if its all the same to you I'd rather go first.  I don't want that kind of pain, I know its selfish, but sometimes, that is ok.

Oh, and I plan on living another 60 years at least, so that's kind of a tall order.

Hello there

I'm home.  Lets all pretend we care.  The trip was good.  Really good actually.  Purifying and lovely, even though the house and the town made me hurt so very much.

He's far to special to live in that sad little run down town.  The roof needed to be repaired and the rain came and now, even though there is a brand new roof, down to the studs, the ceilings are shot, and there was mold and it was awful.  And I sat all week, knowing I could repair most of the house, but he said I wasn't there to work.  They have a guy, he's just busy.  I almost did it anyway, but I didn't want to make him angry, repairing our relationship was more important that repairing his house.

If it's not repaired by the next time I go, I WILL take care if it.  Just so you know.  And I will be going again.  Because he said so.  In his causal sort of way.  But I caught his look.  Intense.  He meant it.  And even though there are so many reasons why I was glad to be home, I miss him.  I understand him so much better now.

He is 67, but he is sharp and funny and has a quite teasing streak.  Sitting next to a man, listening and watching, know what I know about people and the way they let there real self slip out with a look or a sigh, I caught his love, his tenderness.  I was so afraid the day before his surgery, but he was so strong, he went home the next day, and barley needed a thing for the pain.  Which is good.

He tried to pick my daughter to hug her goodbye up as we were leaving.  He said he was 'exercising his grandparent rights' and gave her cookies while we were there.  He didn't reach out to touch me, but I kept reaching to him anyway.  He held still, which is something.  We talked, mostly about nothing, but we had moments and I feel easy with him now.  He is family, not just a stranger, and that is wonderful.