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Can we just jump to January please? - 2014-11-14
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10:23 a.m. - 2007-04-04
More Mush.

Another lunch, only this one went on until breakfast.

The schmoop fest continues. Yesterday was gorgeous. Buttery sunshine. Tweeting birds. And a picnic in the park. Lovingly prepared by me, thankyouverymuch. If I weren't one of the principal players I'd be sickened by the treacle. Really, it's that bad.

Fortunately my natural snark is reasserting itself. So y'all can relax. I'm still me, even if I've been dipped in a double coat of pretty pretty princess then wrapped in a layer of adored goddess.

Who knew?

I told him he wasn't supposed to have shown up yet. I had oats to sow, a career to take into the stratosphere and was completely flatfooted by the appearance of Prince Charming on a cobalt blue steed. He kissed my hand, said I should do whatever I needed to do, he'd have me on any terms I set and be grateful. So I kissed him all over his face and we slow danced in the kitchen, making love to each other with all our clothes on to an Etta James soundtrack.

Honestly, don't you just want to smack the both of us?

But it's phenomenally, ridiculously good. He makes me happy. He's tapped into a place I didn't think I had. Or if I had it at one time it had become so corroded from disuse and buried under lost hope it could never be reached. Frankly the speed and ease of this scares the crap out of me, but I'm not going to pick it apart. Sabotaging myself and manifesting the let-down because that's all I've ever known. The man has given himself to me heart, mind, body and soul. I owe it to him, more importantly I owe it to myself to take a flyer on happiness.

The one thing I despaired of, even more than love, was being seen for who I am. To be allowed to be wholly myself. With him I can be. The more I am my true self the more delighted and smitten he becomes. Me, LA, the goofball, the philosopher, the crusader, the lonely child, the witch, the sexual libertine, the brainiac, the fashionista, the hard ass, and the loving mom- there's not one bit of me he rejects or is frightened by.

And what of him, this adoring man? So it is returned. There are no 'uh oh' flags, no sighs and thinking I can learn to live with it. Smooth as buttah, right as rain and as fun as a circus.


It's all good, my friends, it's all good. ~LA

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