She turns 35 today. But we celebrated last night.
With her. The Goddess Who is Gone.
She came back. I'm only mildly pissed that it's just for the weekend.
And she showed up.
And new momma- exhibit A
And new momma- Exhibit B
And MUD.
And the Dr. was in the house too.
And we did a little of this.
And we did a little of that.
And then we read some poetry. We read Whitman and Longfellow and Poe. No joke. No, we really read our own creations, created especially for Cath.
This was fun.
And I think Cath liked it.
And she liked the tickies too.
And everyone, including Cath, was happy.
The End.
p.s. E and Katy, you were sorely missed.
Here is my contribution to the poetry collection for Cath; however, mine is in dream form:
I was traveling on a fast moving train headed west. I walked drunkenly through the cars to find an empty room, all to myself. I remember I was carrying a big box. It was very light, the box was, but big. I finally found a room with only one other passenger and so struggling to enter through the condensed door, I said, "Mam, would you mind if I share this room with you?" She looked up from her knitting, which she had strewn about her lap and in the seat next to her, and smiled nicely, "Of course not." I threw the box in the cargo carrier above our heads and took a seat across from this young looking woman.
"What are you knitting?" I asked.
"Oh, just a baby blanket," she answered simply.
"Wow," I shot back, impressed. "It's beautiful. Who are you knitting it for? Is someone you know having a baby?" She half laughed. "No," she said, "I knit shit for babies I haven't met yet. I just keep knitting baby blankets and hats. It's kinda my thing. I don't really know why."
"Oh," is all I had for a reply and I think she could tell I wasn't really impressed.
"What do you have in your box?" she asked me.
"Hmm, I don't know. Some guy gave it to me before I got on the train. I don't really even know where we're heading. Do you?" Her fingers were still moving ferociously and she didn't bother to look up when she answered my question with a mumble, "heaven".
"I'm sorry I couldn't hear you. What did you say?" She stopped her knitting and looked directly in my eyes and then she turned to look out the window, which was okay with me because her intense brown eyes were starting to scare me. I looked outside too. The train was moving way too fast for us to make out any definite objects, so I looked back at her, hoping my movement would get her to repeat her answer. "Heaven," she said louder.
"Well, I'll be," I said, "then we just came from hell." I offered a little giggle but she didn't take it.
"Yea," (and here's where things started to get cloudy and confusing) she mumbled something about, "wearing a gold dress in front of a classroom and doing a pole dance in front of the students and then falling down onto a table and puking into the toilet." I couldn't really understand her but I was really intrigued and so I pressed her to talk more, "I'm sorry. I couldn't understand you." And sure enough she started to knit again and kept on with the babbling, "someone made me go camping and then I was riding for hours and hours and hours and then my dad, who was dressed as a woman, was waiting for me at the finish line with a beer and then he rubbed my webbed toe." Hmm, weird, I thought. But then she dug into her super cool knitting bag and pulled out a bag of m&m's, which I was psyched about. She looked at me again with those intense brown eyes and asked me, "Would you like some?"
"Sure." So I dug into the pink bag and pulled out a handful and before throwing them into the back of my mouth I noticed that they were custom m&m's with the words, SUPA CATH written on them. I thought, 'that's cool', I wonder what I would put on my m&m's if I had my own personalized candies. "So why did you put SUPA CATH on your m&m's?"
"Oh, I didn't. My WOMBATS did." Again, 'weird', I thought. Why does this woman have wombats? Just plain weird. I looked out the window again and noticed that we were heading into the setting sun. "Hey, what are you expecting to find in heaven when we get there?" I asked, since this whole thing was very confusing to me.
"Ohhhh," she groaned orgasmically. Now I was really excited to hear her answer, but it (too) didn't make much sense to me. "There is a chiropractic table set up and I've got both legs wide open, someone is waxing me, rubbing my head, and feeding me the Glory Bowl." This image kind of scared me, but I went with it anyway without asking for further clarification. "I make people happy," she continued without prompting, "I make them super happy with my skillz. And I have a pink seat." Okay, whatever. I think I need to get off this train.
"I think this is my stop," I said, standing up. She looked out the window.
"Yea, maybe. This train's not for everyone. Actually," she continued, "it's hard to actually get on this train. Who let you on anyway?"
"Well, it was the same tall handsome guy who gave me the box. I think I'm supposed to give it to you, but I don't really know."
"Well, are you going to give it to me?" I lept up onto the seat to get the box down from the cargo carrier.
"Dood," she said, "I think it's time for some new jeans." I hopped down with the box in my hands and gave it to her. I looked down at my jeans and noticed that the spandex was stretched out in spots and made puffy polka dots all over them.
"Yea, whatever. I hope you like what's in the box and I hope you like what you get in heaven and thanks for the m&m's." I turned to leave through the condensed door; I didn't really want to stay to see what was in the box. But as I exited the room, I heard her mumble under her breath, "Oh man, not again. Another shriveled penis. I hope there's a hard one waiting for me in heaven cause I didn't get on this train for nothing."
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