Pheromone Girl Grows Up

I love too easily. Dang, that's supposed to be a bad thing.

But why?

I love hot buttered popcorn at the movie theater. More than the movie, most times.

I love hot cinnamon rolls I rolled out myself, made with that spectacular cinnamon you can buy at Cinnabon. Extra frosting, please! Fat free - are you kidding?

I love my friends. ALL OF YOU. Even if I missed your call today or forgot to write back to your email asking if I fell of the planet - I LOVE YOU. Sorry I'm busy. I can still love you when I'm busy, huh?

I love the memory of a boy that means everything to me making a snow angel in May at a lake by a bald eagle. With a giggle and a grin. I LOVE THAT.

I love Ezmond, the smelly terrier, even though he's making my house hunt painful and long. He's worth it. I need a good Ezmond house. Maybe this latest dream house will work out. Can't you just see a 75 pound pitbull skidding around on freshly polished hardwoods? I love that picture in my head. I also love it that he sleeps next to me now, sitting on the floor by his blanket, and his breath smells like puppy. Almost as good as baby breath. Dang.

I love cooking with gas. Spoiled, I am. No electric for this girl. That's a deal breaker. How can you boil water in 3-1/2 minutes? Unless, of course, you use the kettle. But the kettle is meant for TEA. Sheesh.

I love tea. Wild sweet orange blended with African nectar is the nectar of the gods. Right Shay!?!?!

I love leaves to stomp. Maybe I can take an hour off work one of these afternoons and get home in time to stomp. In the daylight. I'll light a candle, giggle unmercifully, stomp until the leaves know I show no mercy.

I love the Pub. Met a girlfriend there. Felt like I was about 22. Joy, joy joy. I love the pub. Can I have crisps, please?

I love football. I used to be a Brett Favre fanatic. Not so much now, the guy cried one too many times. I love college football. BC Eagles (Sorry friends, I know...) Matt Ryan is kicking ass in the pros. I love my Eagles sweatshirt on a cold autumn day.

I love pumpkins. I'm craving one. It calls to me when I sleep. It will be shaped like a zucchini. I will name it George. I will not bear to carve it, it will sit on my porch, sad and forlorn, until a squirrel eats part of it and gets stoned on pumpkin mold, dancing on my street. I love that.

I love to read YOUR posts. I feel terribly, horribly guilty that I haven't been able to for a couple weeks. I will, really, I SWEAR. I'm locking myself away with a computer and wifi on Saturday. I might not get out of bed. Doesn't that sound like something to love?

I love my daughter. Broken hearted and dumped by a boy - who never even had the guts to tell her - I love her even more because her one concern was that he return a video game he borrowed from her brother. In between the tears. It will be girls weekend this weekend, with slasher movie4s when only teenage boys die. Hee hee hee...

I love my life. How many people can say that? I'm stressed sometimes, exhausted frequently, working too much. I'm wishing for calm every minute. I'm MAKING calm by removing the people and the things that stress me out. AND, I'm finding joy in little things. Curling up with the kids and feeling them, warm, under the covers. A few minutes alone with my boy tonight, who mad me laugh and cry and crack unbelievably tasteless jokes, all in the span of about 3 minutes. There was ice cream, ghost shaped potato chips, a floor polisher, a mom embarrassing him with riding-the-floor-polisher jokes and a nice bottle of Merlot. And I was LOVED. To my toes. I love my life, every precious second of it.

I love it that moving closer to work means moving closer to my boy's friends and this girl he's liked for a long time. Long, long time. Long long long long time. Now, distance isn't gong to be her excuse. If she has one, I hope she uses it quickly and with mercy. The kid is loyal and patient and slightly crazy when he feels it... you guessed it. LOVE.

I love. I am Rachel, and I love.