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Jett Superior laid this on you on || October 5, 2006 || 11:27 pm

How to prepare for a date:

come home from work, strip off scrubs

find a pair of your softest fleecy shorts and a Pink Floyd tee shirt, pull them on

go to the kitchen to cook some dinner

talk with the kids while doing so, catching up on their day

welcome spouse home, ask about his day

orchestrate the setting of table and serving of meal

sit down, dine on prayer, food, and fond conversation

orchestrate the removal of meal’s detritus, same with kitchen cleaning

last minute homework is the pits.

as are last minute permission slips and fees

forget that the baby is no longer willing to tolerate being tucked in*

(he is a big whole seven, dumbass)

remind him to brush his teeth, call for the other children

they know bedtime, but they push it

teenagers *eye roll*

flip through channels aimlessly, not fully invested in the activity

turn brain off and watch several (like, thirty-seven?) minutes of Whose Line Is It Anyway?

That Wayne Brady. What an affable, nimble genius

Hear stirring upstairs / where ’stirring’='clumping about like it’s judgement day’

go to foot of stairs, issue preprogrammed threat should bodies not be in bed

in like fourteen seconds, oooooooo-ooooh

join spouse in bedroom, where conversation and handholding ensue

worry quietly because he seems so very exhausted

watch his sleeping form, pray over him, speaking blessings and peace

pull your hair back and go in search of your favorite ballcap

(yes, there is such a thing as an ‘inspirational hat’)

(I mean, der.)

gather the following: lighter, candle, bag of pumpkin seeds, bottle of water

–back in your wanna-be-Vonnegut days a pack of smokes would have been included, too, and sometimes you miss that–

kiss yon husband’s forehead

enter the living room, turning on what has been called the ‘condom lamp’

it is functional, artistic lighting,

that’s what your brain hisses now each time you pass eyes over the damned thing

open the wicker trunk next to the overstuffed chair

grab a lap blanket

take a seat in the leather office chair, sorting the blanket across your legs

light the candle, boot up an unholy number of emmpeethree files

crack the water, take a long pull

shift to a comfortable position in your seat

pull up a patiently-waiting window

push play on the music and begin to romance that window

to fill it the best way you know how

*this happened with each and every one of my children….one day night, a little round-toed barefeeted person padded up to us and announced the decision to Get Into Bed On My Own. This flabbergasts me; is it a common stage in development?

Shit, I get tucked in every chance I get, you know??

5 worked it out »

  1. chris robinson 10.6.2006

    You leave me feeling a deep sense of peace here. The world is hard and rushed, kids grow up too fast, but if you can just find a little time to sit in the quiet, embrace the solitude, and write, then serenity and balance can be regained. Life at your house must be wonderful.

     
  2. do you, aah… categorize your fleecy shorts according to softness?

    “That’s it, Helga! They’ve pushed me just far enough! I have no option but to unleash Fleece Factor Nine!”

     
  3. Jettomatika 10.6.2006

    Fleece Factor Nine was the name of my last album; you aren’t so very clever.

    …but I like you anyhoodle.

     
  4. Jettomatika 10.6.2006

    CHRIS!:

    Life at my house is never dull. I like my family, I like my home, I have it unabashedly good.

    I have everything and yet am greedy for more, because I am a sinnergirl. >:o)

    BLESSINGS IN ABUNDANCE TO YOU! salud

     
  5. do you, aah… categorize your fleecy shorts according to softness?

    “That’s it, Helga! They’ve pushed me just far enough! I have no option but to unleash Fleece Factor Nine!”

     

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