I'm sorting through stuff tonight, packing up a few precious things, jettisoning lots of paperbacks. When I was married and Velvet was little, I must have read everything Anthony Trollope ever wrote. Great Expectations, too. Those paperbacks are going to some makeshift bookstand on Broadway. Songs don't take up any room, though. Over the years, some songs stay attached to you and become part of the soundtrack. I'm sorry to say that this song is attached to me all because of friends from high school.
They mean it in the nicest possible way, of course. It must be on my mind because of Buzz Kill. I suspect this Spackling frenzy has been stimulated by his anxiety that my mother will kill him if we don't make a bundle off the apartment. He could have any number of his own reasons to be anxious, however. Like the IRS.
I packed away the cake topper from our wedding cake tonight, wrapped in hot pink tissue and tucked into tupperware. It will land safely with me where ever I land in August. I feel like Harlem is best for now, but I still like the idea of a PhD from UVM in Educational Leadership and Policy. Vermont in 2012 could be hopping.
I must admit some trepidation regarding moving to Texas in today's political climate. I would rather live in a state that has a warrant out for George W's and Dick Cheney's arrest than in one with two Bush libraries.
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