I know that offering a late submission on the second day of class is frowned upon, but in my defense:
Anyway, I have just now returned home from Eastern Sunday dinner. It was less about Easter and less about Sunday than it was about dinner. Also, there was the Game of Thrones premiere, which was less about Games and less about Thrones and more about offering itty-bitty crumbs to tantalize the crows (us) that have been starving for nine months as we awaited a new season of intrigue and betrayal.
I worked at the bakery all day--if work is the word for pointing at products panic-ridden customers did not see directly behind themselves--and then retired home for a nap. Ladies from my church left plastic eggs with scripture quotes on my doorknob.
The afternoon was devoted to the Larkin Clan. This consists mainly of my two wives (First Wife and Wifey), their boyfriends (The Boyfriend and Captain*), and my goddaughter, Riverbug, provided by First Wife and Captain. There was food. A dish shattered in the oven. As First Wife and Wifey both hail from strong Irish backgrounds, and there were mashed potatoes, I made more Irish jokes than I did on Saint Patrick's Day.
Because I'm an ass, that's why.
And it was a happy, simple, noisy affair. When I am with these people, I forget myself. It is as if all of the little bits of me that I find impossible to love or even like simply dissolve in their presence. I become less of a person, and more of an ingredient. And at this point in my life, uneducated and unfinished as I am, I believe that is what love is.
I hope your holiday was as pleasant.
-J Larkin
*I don't have a proper nickname for this man aside from 'Man' in conversation, so, given his affection for all things solar and his general command of every given situation, I am now dubbing him 'Captain'
Anyway, I have just now returned home from Eastern Sunday dinner. It was less about Easter and less about Sunday than it was about dinner. Also, there was the Game of Thrones premiere, which was less about Games and less about Thrones and more about offering itty-bitty crumbs to tantalize the crows (us) that have been starving for nine months as we awaited a new season of intrigue and betrayal.
I worked at the bakery all day--if work is the word for pointing at products panic-ridden customers did not see directly behind themselves--and then retired home for a nap. Ladies from my church left plastic eggs with scripture quotes on my doorknob.
The afternoon was devoted to the Larkin Clan. This consists mainly of my two wives (First Wife and Wifey), their boyfriends (The Boyfriend and Captain*), and my goddaughter, Riverbug, provided by First Wife and Captain. There was food. A dish shattered in the oven. As First Wife and Wifey both hail from strong Irish backgrounds, and there were mashed potatoes, I made more Irish jokes than I did on Saint Patrick's Day.
Because I'm an ass, that's why.
And it was a happy, simple, noisy affair. When I am with these people, I forget myself. It is as if all of the little bits of me that I find impossible to love or even like simply dissolve in their presence. I become less of a person, and more of an ingredient. And at this point in my life, uneducated and unfinished as I am, I believe that is what love is.
I hope your holiday was as pleasant.
-J Larkin
*I don't have a proper nickname for this man aside from 'Man' in conversation, so, given his affection for all things solar and his general command of every given situation, I am now dubbing him 'Captain'
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