Lunch with Momma today. I love my Momma.
Brother was moved to another jail yesterday; one far far away. Well, on the state line. (The other one. The one south of here.) Apparently there was real biscuits and gravy this morning, and a church group is making them a real dinner on Thanksgiving, so at least he's eating better. He told Momma to tell me he loves me.
Dear Heavenly Father,
Please let this be the last time.
Please let him:
come home safe,
get a job,
get his own place,
fall in love,
live happily ever after.
Note: If you're related to me, or you know my Momma, and you just read that and thought "WTF? He's in JAIL?", read this before you make any phone calls, please. No, really. I mean it.
I've been meaning to blog for 3 days now about how I shaved my legs on Sunday. Yes, it really is that big of a deal; I mean, it's practically a semi-annual event these days. Okay, that's an exaggeration, but only barely. Once upon a time, I was that girl who shaved, while never daily, at least every couple of days. I always had smooth legs; you know, just in case. But I was single then, too. And now I live with a man who loves me so much it's ridiculous, and he says that he doesn't notice my legs aren't shaved once we're past the prickly, just-growing-back stage. He blames it on my baby-fine hair; I think it's an extension of that whole love-is-blind thing...love is maybe numb to long leg hairs, too. But anyhow, I finally shaved my legs, and it took forever. I hadn't shaved them since the day I found out I was pregnant, at the beginning of September. I remember that very clearly, the decision to shave that morning. I suddenly felt very feminine. If I'd had an extra hundred bucks laying around that day, i would've gotten a facial and a haircut, too. Maybe even a manicure, even though I don't have any nails.
But I finally shaved my legs, and I feel feminine again. I feel sexy.
Except for the razor bumps. Fuck you, razor bumps.