Friday, January 7, 2011

Making a home.


  I have never been your Betty Crocker type of girl; I have always been your cocktail kind of girl. I have never thought of myself in a little house with a wrap around porch and a white picket fence. I have found my own personal white picket fence.
    I find myself in the kitchen cooking away often. I have looked up more reciepes in the last month than in a lifetime. Not to mention I have enjoyed every moment of it. I cooked prime rib the other night so well that it could have come straight from the kitchen of some talented person. I found a piece of peace while rubbing down the prime-rib with salt and herbs. I was warmed by watching my family eat a meal that did not come from a box. I went to bed happy that I had provided a service to my family. Brought them together around a table for dinner. I found a sense of pride for being able to make dinner with out setting the house on fire. 
      I have been suffering from homebody syndrome as of lately. I feel completely content to work on my many projects happening around our home. I am sure part of this has to do with my melencoly feeling that has been trying to creep into my days. I am slowly mourning my friend and as always when one goes I tend to mourn them all. When you live a life where cancer is a large part of it. You seem to begin to have lots of friends who have cancer. So you can imagine when most of your friends have cancer you lose a few along the road. Most of the loses I have seen have come far to young; all of them have carried amazing stories of living to the grave. All of them have taught me about myself about love, nurturing, and about moments. People who are dying know how to experience moments; everyone should know how. (it feels wonderful to experience)
         I am watching Sean put together a shelf system to lay in the girls closet to organize their toys. He always looks amazing while he is working on anything. Concentrating and making ajustments. He may be the only man that is sexy in a flannel and torn jeans. It is in these moments when I don't know if he should be sexy that I feel the need to grab him. These are the moments when I look forward to crawling into bed and being held until the morning comes. 
        Have you ever heard old people speak of love? The generation that was married within thirty day and never got divorced? Have you ever talked of the moment they knew? I have spent lots of time with the older generation talking about courting; they always say the same thing. "I knew within days that I was going to be with that person forever. I committed to it and never let it go" None of them say it came with out hardships but, they all say they had known many before that moment and never picked until they found "it". Most of them were still in love up until the grave and after. I am lucky to have someone that makes me feel like forever should be a very long time. 

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