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Contact Meemmy [AT] curious-notions {dot} net
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some daysI just wanted to dance. The realization hadn’t yet hit me that the shoes were one of the things that excited me about the wedding. They are gorgeous and comfortable and they put me at this perfect height for dancing. So I tried to convince him to dance with me. He had just woken up. I hadn’t napped or kept him company while he was napping. I had been sad, not that the earlier comments don’t make that obvious, and couldn’t lay down and read or nap with him. The sadness wasn’t getting pushed away very easily. I had put on the shoes because they whispered to me, “Break me in.” Pretty shoes, if blindingly white. They make my hips sway and make me feel pretty. Good shoes. So I’d put them on and tricked myself into forgetting the sadness with a tv show and some really strong crazy-making tea. When I heard him get up, I just wanted to dance and smooch and hug. I felt sexy and happy and light and wooo that tea was strong. Obviously too strong. He humored me, but he rarely wakes up well. I shouldn’t have expected anything. I don’t think I did really. I was just so in the moment. So I got my hug and he escaped and damn, at least then you would think I’d have gotten a clue. Some days you just keep having to climb out over and over again. But I hadn’t realized yet. So I went to take a shower. I wanted pretty hair for tomorrow because it’ll be Friday and maybe we’ll go somewhere or do something and I just felt pretty. The shoes, remember? So I slipped them off and got clean and while I was showering I had an idea for the wedding. Something for the guests to look at and to be decoration and to be special. Now this I knew. I should wait. Not tonight. I should run it by my aunt first. Tell Lin. Tell his mom. Not tonight. Wait. But I didn’t listen. I was happy and clean and pretty and the shoes were back on my feet and I felt like I could dance and I had a great idea. So I told him. Now my head hurts and I don’t want to read or watch tv or knit or spin or sleep or exercise or clean. The shoes are still on my feet, but I’m sitting down. I keep looking at my feet. I can’t quite take them off, but I don’t think I’ll be trying to dance. May 29th, 2008 | Category: life stories
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