It's true, we are seven days deep into the month of love. I've been inspired to celebrate. By what? My drive home from a bridal shower, the bluebird velvet sky breaking past wet pavement colored clouds, or that exciting image of my sweet Love walking toward me with a surprise work visit and a warm cup of chai. Lots of moments of inspiration, I hope you catch all of them in your own life. So how will
I, uh, we celebrate? I thought I woud litter this blog, during the month of love, with stories of our disastrous romance. Hopefully you too will be inspired....or maybe smile outloud, or maybe just pity us. PLUS! Aaron is going to be very unhappy with me if I wait any longer to write to you all.
Story #1 is a sweet one. I told it today, in fact. It was a memory of our dating days...or pre-dating days? I lived with three other gals, one of whom I was a caretaker for. I had a little room at the end of the hall, packed with my hodge podge of roadside finds, weathered books, handmade art and a mattress. A ratty old mattress with springs that threatened of a spinal injury. Aaron couldn't believe I slept on it. I didn't know the difference. When was the last time I slept on anything soft and inviting anyway? Well, after a long shift working the front desk of my gym, I walked into my room, and flopped on the mattress. Something was different. While I scanned membership cards at work, the new blue-eyed, blonde hair boy in my life had a very different day. He weighed down the roof of his dilapidated (sorry A) Relient K with his newer, comfy mattress. He drove that cushion of comfiness to my apartment and switched it out for mine. Mmmm, there was something so different about him.