Long legs.  Meaty Ass.  Naked.  Water.

So many things I love.

Several weeks ago, long before Granny went into the hospital, The Attorney may or may not have asked me to marry him.

He just said out-of-the-blue, “When the time comes, why don’t we move to Massachusetts or somewhere we could get married?”

He said it so casually that I just blew if off as rhetorical.

Then he asked, “Do you believe in soul mates?”

I do.

I’m just not sure I believe in marriage.

For myself.

For other folks I think it’s great.

It’s not that I’m against it.  It just isn’t something that I felt like I really needed to be happy.

But, my eyes have been opened to the possibility.

I’m not climbing to the top of the cake or anything, yet.  But I’m probably at the base wondering what the view is like up there.

And maybe there’s a long-legged fella with a wide-mouthed grin waiting for me to get to where we take the final tier together.

Someone that has shown me that he’s not gonna let me fall off.

I don’t think it will come as a surprise to anyone reading when I say I’ve known for some time that The Attorney is committed to our relationship.  Neither a surprise that he is nor a surprise that I know it.

We got to bring Granny home today.  Because she is getting better.

And all his efforts on her behalf and mine these recent weeks have been momumental, tireless, and completely unselfish.

I came to realize that my long-legged, wide-grinning man is committed not only to me, but to everything that comes with me.

That’s a person you climb a cake for.

And one you hold tight to, to make sure that he doesn’t fall either.

But he’s gonna have to ask me proper.

[ fin ]

Within the week since I last posted, things improved for Granny a bit.

Then they turned worse.

She has been in ICU since Monday, but thankfully it seems that things are back on an upswing.

Unfortunately the staff restricted The Attorney from visitation while she’s in ICU.

Because he is not a family member.

I’m amazed at how well he took it.

And I’m ashamed at how poorly I did.

I flipped out.

I really showed my ass.

To people who were just doing their job.

I would like to blame it on the stress.

But, that’s too easy.

I was taught to handle tough situations better.

And this time I failed.

I’m only glad that Granny didn’t witness it.

It would have disappointed her to no end.

It was enough that I think I may have embarrassed The Attorney.

He had to physically take me by the arm and walk me out of the building in an attempt to calm me down.

I apologized to everyone the next day.

And they were kind enough to accept it.

Despite my unacceptable behavior.

I don’t mean the sounds of walking or breathing.  Nor the coughs, the chuckles, or tapping of the foot.

I mean the sound of someone’s presence.  The sound of them just being there.

It’s interesting how that kind of quiet amplifies your own presence.

Or makes you more aware of it.

It’s been quiet on the blog.

Because it’s been quiet in the house.

I’ve been away.

From the blog and from the house.

Temporarily.

Granny has not been doing so well.  She has been in the hospital for almost two weeks.

The last week at a hospital out of town.

I’ve been out of town with her.

I came home for a day.

To make sure the mundane tasks of living life don’t get away from me.

Her energy is still in the place, but it dissipates without her here.

I think the universe is giving me a test run.  Preparing me for the day when it’s all gone.

She is improving, so I do believe it’s only a drill.

But in my gut, I also believe it may be the beginning of the final run.

[ fin ]

You generally don’t want to find something brown floating in the shallow end of the pool.  But this beauty ain’t no Baby Ruth.

If I’ve ever won a race, it’s because I have long legs.

The Attorney is fast.

And he has longer legs.

So, he can outrun me.

And he loves that fact.

Partially because he is fifteen years older.

But mostly because of his competitive nature.

He’s got a natural fight in him.

For a long time I thought it’s a result of his line of work.

But now I realize it’s the other way around.

He’s doesn’t like a fight because he’s an attorney.

He’s an attorney because he likes a fight.

And being one gives him a civilized way to do it.

Don’t get me wrong. He’s not a bully.  He doesn’t go looking for a fight.

But if he finds one, he’s all in.

His adrenaline gets going and he’s zero to sixty in ten seconds.

He loves an argument.

For him it’s sport and he plays to win.

And is very good at it.

Except with me.

Because I don’t argue.

I generally just let things pass.

You can’t out-argue an attorney and you can’t outrun a long-legged man.

But slow and steady can ultimately win the race.

And it frustrates the hell out of a hare.

[ fin ]

Three months in, and I’m already starting to slip.

But only because the weather has been so fantastic the last few weeks.  I’ve wanted to be outside doing stuff instead of sitting at the computer.

Plus, I just haven’t had much to say.

Although there were a couple of matters of note over the weekend.

We celebrated Granny’s 95th on Saturday.

No big ta-do.

Just simple little dinner and cards.

And pound cake, of course.

The Attorney passed on the cake and made an early evening of it.

He wanted to be at the top of his game for a race he was running early the next morning.

It paid off.

He finished in the top third of his division.

I drove down in time to see him finish and meet him at the end of the course.

Then it was back to his house for a good, pampering soak in the tub and a contentedly entwined midday snooze.

So, while it was a weekend without a lot of fanfare, I really don’t think it could have been more satisfying.

[ fin ]

Besides wondering why she would even consider that I don’t, I wondered why she didn’t ask the opposite.

Shouldn’t she be asking if he treats me right?

I’m her flesh and blood, after all.

But, she brushed that concern aside.

“I know he treats you right.”

She said she knows because I’m happy.

“Be sure you make him happy back.”

Yes, ma’am.

[ fin ]

I don’t remember.

I just remember that after cutting the grass this evening, I curled up on the glider and took a nap.

I woke up some time later when a buddy knocked on the door of the screen porch.

When I sat up I realized something was in my shorts.

Nothing more than me.

Just more of me.

Slumber Lumber.

So I just sat there, stealthily pushing it down to hold it between closed legs, and told him to come in.

But the screen door was hooked.

Oh, fuck.

I had to make the six or seven-foot trip to unlatch it.

I wouldn’t call it a Walk of Shame.

But it wasn’t exactly one of Pride, either.

Maybe Awkardness.

Because, true to form, he wasted no time in pointing out to me what was pointing out at him.

“Looks like Grandpa’s not been taking care of business.”

That’s he calls The Attorney.  We’ve been friends since high school, so he can joke like that.

“Grandpa handles things just fine, smart ass.”

“Then you were having a hell of a dream,” he responded.

I guess I was.

If only I could remember.

[ fin ]

I have been sleepless most of my life.

I’ve never been sure why.

But I think about it a lot.

What else is there to do when you’re wide awake in the middle of the night?

Think or beat off.

I’ve devoted a healthy amount of time to both.

But, lately I have been sleeping more and it seems like getting more shut-eye may have opened my eyes to what the problem may be.

Insecurity.

I started having trouble sleeping in my teens, around the time my mama died.  In three years, my daddy was gone too.  Sleeping through the night has hardly ever happened since.

It’s almost like I need to stay awake to make sure I don’t lose someone.

Lately I’ve been wrapping myself around The Attorney when he stays over.

Security.

This is significant because as if I didn’t already have enough sleep issues, I’ve always struggled with sleeping with someone up against me.

Even The Attorney.

For most of our relationship, we’d cuddle until he fell asleep, then I would roll away and get as much air between us as I could.

But not as much anymore.

Now I hold on.

We get to share a bed only once or twice a week, but when we do, I sleep better.

Maybe because I know he will still be there.

Like my security blanket.

Or, at least, my own private Ambien.

[ fin ]