“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing there is a field. I’ll meet you there. When the soul lies down in that grass the world is too full to talk about.” -Rumi

“When I am with you, we stay up all night. When you’re not here, I can’t go to sleep. Praise God for those two insomnias! And the difference between them.” -Rumi

We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the hateful words and actions of the bad people but for the appalling silence of the good people. — “Letter from Birmingham Jail,” April 16, 1963

Respect your haters. They are the ones who think you are better than them. -Unknown

You don’t understand, no-one does. When a woman makes the choice to marry, to have children; in one way her life begins but in another way it stops. You build a life of details. You become a mother, a wife and you stop and stay steady so that your children can move. And when they leave they take your life of details with them. And then you’re expected move again only you don’t remember what moves you because no-one has asked in so long. Not even yourself. You never in your life think that love like this can happen to you. -Francesca, Bridges of Madison County

“Motherfuckin’ tittysuckin’ two-balled bitch!” -Agent Zoil – Paul

My boobs.

14 April, 2007 /

It’s Saturday afternoon and I’m still in bed.

If you were to look to my left you would see a completely destroyed closet. (Cause: part anxiety attack, part anxiety attack)
You would also see my bedside table that is covered with just crap on crap on crap.

Directly in front of me is a pile of laundry that needs to be washed, dried, folded and put away.

To my left is my wonderful husband who had a tooth pulled yesterday.

If you look directly down, MY BOOBS!

There they are! Just hanging around waiting for some action.

Oh and my bangs are long enough to put in my mouth. It’s so totally sexy. You would be so turned on if you could see me right now. I have make up streaking down my face in an Alice Cooper kind of way, my stretched out pajama top is falling off my shoulder and my Peg Bundy hair is falling in my face. My breath…smells like I just (damn, I hate that kids read my blog) Anyway it involves the ball sack of Juan Valdez’s coffee-packing mule. Use your imagination.

Me and the boobs love days like this. Just hanging around…and sliding into my arm pit.