I should prolly drive home first. After that there's a shaker with my name on it.

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Yes, after driving. Home first, then martini.

I got home after 5:00. I very much wanted to go to Barnes and Noble, but I also very much wanted wine after my three hour white knuckler, spent next to the man I love, who turned white every time we hit a bump or took too curvy of a corner.

Wine totally won, after we were home.

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Right now I'm having a surprising good instant soup (chipotle black bean from Spice Hunter) with a cherry coke/lemonade.

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I'll trade you booze for rain.

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Wouldn't it be great if we could have a good-old midwestern (or east coastern depending on your storm preference of choice) window-rattling gully-washing thunderstorm in Los Angeles at least once a year?

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I'm having beer right now!

I just took the dog for a walk, which is one of my favorite things to do when I come home. He was hit by a car earlier this year, which sucked beyond the telling, but he's healed very well. Both his legs were broken on his left side (which is so much more terrible for a four-legged creature) and now, when we walk, he has a certain limp that becomes more noticeable when we go on our short jaunts. It just breaks my heart--he's been a part of our family since I was a child, and he's very dear to me, and though he goes on just fine with the limp, I just want to gather him up in my arms and carry him everywhere.

Which would be impractical, not to mention messy given how much hair he's shedding right now. But you get the picture.

We walked down to the lake behind our house, about eight minutes at a particularly leisurely pace, and the lake was placid and quiet, with no one else around. I waded out to a dry rock a bit out from the shore, and Larrabee followed me in, sat his butt down in the water, and just chilled with me as I took it all in. It's so very strange to be coming home, instead of being home.

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I'll trade you booze for rain.

Deal. I love the rain but we've got enough to share.

We walked down to the lake behind our house, about eight minutes at a particularly leisurely pace, and the lake was placid and quiet, with no one else around. I waded out to a dry rock a bit out from the shore, and Larrabee followed me in, sat his butt down in the water, and just chilled with me as I took it all in.

This is lovely.

It's so very strange to be coming home, instead of being home.

You know, that never really changes. Never has for me, at least.

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re: going home again

those effers who bought the house I grew up in cut down all the trees!

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those effers who bought the house I grew up in cut down all the trees!

They're tearing down the house (that my dad built cause my mom was pregnant) I grew up in. It's been sold for several years and was languishing. But it just resold and, yeah, it's going to be torn down.

I'm not sure I wanted to know that. And I haven't told my dad yet, actually.

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no one will ever walk those floors again. Freaks me out thinking about it and I've never even been there. Do houses die?

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