Tuesday, August 28, 2007


48 hours. Plus 36 hours. Plus...
If I were you. Looking at me. I would say.
You've been dumped.

If I were me. Looking at him. I would say.
I've been duped.

Sunday, August 26, 2007

Counting 36 hours

Since last email.
Check mail every 20 minutes.
Patsy Cline's "Crazy".
Grocery store with drinkin buddy.
Movie. About a guy who goes crazy and kills his wife. Number 23
Consoling guests, stopped by to cheer me up even though they put their dog down at noon.
Made guests appetizer.
Played scrabble. Words like mad mind liar sex I avoided.
Made ravioli, pesto, and salad. Did the dishes.
Patsy Cline's "Crazy" again. This time in Coal Miners Daughter. at 4 am.
Dream of skiing, forgiveness, a kiss.
Woke up crying.
IM session with the sisters.
Phone call from mom

Friday, August 24, 2007


Bull. shit.
Alone again. Again. Bull. Shit. This post.

Thursday, August 23, 2007


each response I've made has been incorrect. My ipod knows what to play, my car knows the way to work, people have been bringing me food. My family calls. My co-workers express concern for my odd expressions. My dog looks sad. The cats like food. The piles pile up. Work Is coming. So much work to do. My body doesn't sleep. My husband doesn't call.

What is the difference between two months and ten years.

Monday, August 20, 2007


Green Hornet's nest
Tea Pot
Mad Man.

Come home.

Friday, August 10, 2007

Odd sad similarities

Damn! I knew when I first saw blood. I tried to talk myself out of it, but I knew that 10 years ago this week the same smear appeared. The same tears. I'm embarrassed. I know exactly what is to come, the Oh I'm so sorry's, the sympathetic smiles, the hugs with pats on the back, the pain. The disappointment from grandma's and in-laws and the of courses from friends who think I live poisonedly. I've missed an entire day of seeing my family because we spent 9 hours in the hospital. Waiting for a shot. One shot.

The cool desert air calmed me. The shadow of the mountains feels safe. Somehow the familiarity of disappointment, the emptiness, fits like an old shoe. I thought I lost those shoes. Recycled wedding present perhaps?