I like listening to stories; I think I'm an okay storyteller, but mostly I like listening to other people tell stories. When I was little (and not so little), Mom would tell me stories, true stories, about me. She would tell me what I was like as a little kid, as a baby. It helped me form my identity, and although she would tell the same stories over and over again, sometimes a new detail would come out and I never got tired of it.
Mr. Graff likes stories, too. He's creative and invents fun stories in his head. He likes lots of genres--horror, science fiction, manga, and lots of nerd. When we dated, I would ask him to, "tell me a story". He would usually ask for a subject and then tell me a story, sometimes about him. Those are my favorite.
Last night, during pillow talk, I said to Mr. Graff, "tell me a story". He didn't respond, so I told his story for him:
"Once there was a man named Mr. Graff. He was very tired. He went to sleep. The end."
"Lucky guy," he said.
"But his wife kept yakking and wouldn't let him sleep," I added.
"True story." Mr. Graff's mustache curled up into a smile.
I got to go to Gold's Gym twice this week to do a spinning class with a friend. The room is painted black with stars and planets. We listened to cool upbeat music, and drenched our shirts in sweat.
"Ladies," shouted our instructor, "I should feel the breeze from your legs moving fast!"
"There's no breeze here," said my friend, "But FLAMES are shooting out my thighs!!!"
Truer words were never spoken.
While my legs have felt like jello for a couple of days, I've been really proud of my running this week. It seems like spinning helped me pick up running speed. I sailed down 197, wind in my hair, baby squealing. It was a great feeling.
On the other hand, sitting down is a problem. I'm not sure that that part of my anatomy should be calloused, but I'm sure working on it...
Rae's been teething this week. I can see four little white bumps under his gums. His nose has been a faucet for several days now, and he's been a little grumpy. Not that it slows him down any. In fact, Captain Explorer crawled out from my dressing room today and got intercepted by a sales clerk. Whoops!
He's intrepid--as long as he knows right where Mom and Dad are, crawling under pews at church, getting behind furniture, standing up on lamps. He's also trying to share things. Today, he gave me his bottle to drink. Precious.
These are the stories that make me smile. Here's my week in a nutshell: a little saddle sore, a lot of change and progress... and Kleenex. Lots and lots of Kleenex.
No comments:
Post a Comment