And that, my friends, is my new favorite word. So here’s some for you.
I hadn’t had a Slurpee since high school, so when I had an out-of-nowhere craving the other day, I indulged. What did I get for my nostalgia? A throbbing brain freeze and blue raspberry on my top. Sometimes memories are better.
The Track Six Theory has been mine since my Slurpee addiction: The sixth track on any album is great. But surreally, I turned on SiriusXM to hear the Chris Moyles radio show discussing my Track Six Theory. How does producer Carrie’s husband Tom have my theory? The only reason I can think of: because it’s true.
I’m going to have to figure out how to hear “It’s Not My Time” without my brain coming out of gear, but I haven’t. And I know Tracy is up there snorting at me every time it happens. Like in TJ Maxx. “You sap, there’s no crying in shoe shopping. Pull yourself together and check out those heels.” (Yes ma’am.)
On my way home from a client, I was mentally maligning the terrible congestion of the town – when I realized I was passing a condo I’d looked at. I couldn’t believe I’d considered living there. Not having been on good terms with the concept of “home” since I was about eight, I still can’t explain how huge it is to have gotten one for myself.
On the home front, thank you all for asking, yes, Henry has stopped hiding – and, better yet, stopped crying. He’s still jumpy, but he’s figured out I’m a delivery mechanism for kibble and tummy rubs. That helps quite a bit.