In the Sun He Melted

OK, I know that you're jealous of my time this weekend and in recent weekends past. You weren't invited and I undeniably didn't want you around. I'm sorry if that hurts your feelings but this is uncalled for.

You had your chance. Heck you even stayed around longer than normal and we dealt with it. All of us. We put up with it knowing that you'd be gone before too long. Why are you being so unreasonable?

It is over. I'm not joking. I can't even stand to look at you. We could have been fine, happy even, if you'd just learned when to let go.

This:

Is the last straw.

"Hi. It's Me."

I called up an old friend the other day. And I mean old. This person has known me forever. They know everything I've ever done, everything I've ever said, everything I've ever felt or thought or pretended not to feel or think... Everything.

As we were talking I wondered why I had let so much time pass since I had last checked in. Admittedly, I kind of thought that since it had been so long and so much had happened it might be a little awkward at first to get conversation going. Heaven knows I'm awful at conversations, especially on the phone. But she knows all that.

I was relieved to find that the conversation was easy. Of course it was. Isn't it always? Don't I always feel comfortable talking to her? Isn't she always the best listener, the best advisor? I instantly felt that long, worn, intangible thread that was tying our existences together, tighten and pump life-giving energy into my psyche.

One of the things I like most about her is her ability to be perfectly honest and clear with me. No minced words. No cushioned cirticisms. She says it like it is. But never once has she offended me. Sometimes I don't ask her things because I'm afraid of what she'll say. Not because I think it will be hurtful or anything. It's because I know she'll be right, and maybe the answer isn't something I'm ready to act on yet.

She's also wonderful at appreciating me and telling me the good things about me without making me feel weird. I never know what to say when someone says something nice to/about me. She's always been so good at that. I still am not quite sure how she does it. She also seems to value my in-put and my spin on things. It's nice feeling like I mean as much to her as she does to me.

My biggest goal in life is to be like her. Honestly, everything about her I admire. She's patient, kind, funny, intelligent, humble, adventurous, brave, diligent, genuine. But mostly I admire her because she reminds me more of God than any one I've ever known.

The best part is, she's only a few words away. I should remember that more.

I Love Lucy

I love Lucy.

Or... I love I Love Lucy.

Either way you say it, it's true.

I am a bit of an insomniac. Especially on Sunday nights for some reason. Maybe it has something to do with the dread and anxiety of another Monday unavoidably dawning, but Sunday nights are brutal. That's where Lucy comes in.

On those nights, when no matter how sleepy I am I cannot for the life of me fall/stay asleep, I turn on some Lucy (thanks to Bradford's nifty media server that houses an abundance of movies, tv shows, and music).

Lucy keeps me company and lulls me to sleep when I would otherwise be staring at the ceiling for hours on end painstakingly listening to the clock tick.

I guess if I am having a hard time falling asleep I could always read my old Biology textbook too. I swear that thing had sleeping powder in between the pages because without fail I would fall asleep just about any time I opened the dang thing to read it.

I like science. However, Lucy soothes me just a little bit better than the dynamics of a cell's structure.

So thank you Lucy and Ricky for your marital woes, your sometimes all too predictable plots, and your inevitable reconciliations with the Mertz's. You are the best thing about my insomnia.