misshapen hyperspace medley

to the best day ever.

{workday love letter}

Charles says it's his best, but really it's mine and my privilege.  (<--Appropriation really is fun for everyone!)

He locked his keys in the car yesterday, which I drove two hours in a fury to undo.  I felt waves of frustration pour over me since the sneaky hate spiral had clearly won, and my marital discord continued.

But this morning I woke up and remembered how he is outlandishly kind and caring most every moment;  how we get to start each day anew; how I'm always discovering things and seeing life differently with him.

Most of all how, even when it's hard, it's incredible.

{probably a better partner than yesterday-me}

{happy non-awkward-hands birthday wishes, love}

Be beside me somewhere: on the split stools of this bar, by the edge of this cliff, in the seats of this borrowed car, at the prow of this ship, on the all-forgiving cushions of this thread-bare sofa in the one-story copper-crying fixer-upper whose windows we once squinted through for hours before coming to our sense: “What would we even do with such a house?”

-JSF, published in The New Yorker, June 14, 2010, p.72, {link}