Investing Time


Since I’m well schooled in waiting for material possessions, one would think that waiting for personal time with Harry would be a cinch for me. He is something of value that I want. I have to wait sometimes days to see him and then for only an hour or two. His time is valuable and can only afford to give me a little because when he’s with me it means he’s getting behind with his insane and life-sucking business that we are both hoping gives him a good return for his investment in not only money but time.

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Domesticated


Feminists will not like this post, but I don’t care. I lived for years as a proud woman who handled anything work threw at me and accepted (albeit begrudgingly my role as brain and decision maker for the family.) It was a burden. I didn’t want it and I didn’t like it. But I was strong willed and I knew what I was good at and was told what I was bad at so there it was. I was in an upside down marriage. I wore the pants.

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Turning Pages


Our book jackets said one thing but our pages something else. And we looked long enough to notice the discrepancy. The people around us didn’t. They only read the words in bold print. “What are you doing with that book? What are you thinking?” They asked when we picked it up off the shelf. We tried pointing at the pages to explain, “But wait until you get to page 25!”

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