After being together for nine days straight, he is gone. Teaching a class to postal workers deep in the sick veins of Oakland. Life has sort of stopped, or gone on with me still left on the barge formulating my excuse for not coming along. All I do now is sleep and sigh about how I can't do anything, because that is all I can do. Words can never explain the pining philosophy we hold onto when we realize our insides are slowly dying, and have been for years. But he is good, and we are still together and fighting. These little ruminations are what I have to hold onto.
I got the strangest birthday present of my life, a real landmark, a black sweater that is Ron's size with tassels and mohair and gold buttons. Somehow, someone saw that and thought of me. I see it and think of Ron pretending he is Stevie Nick's.
Isabelle has a new game--getting her head stuck in a little blue cup and running around until she goes into a panic from not being able to see. She is also better than ever at having accidents in the house.
Yesterday we went to Michael's to spend a $50 giftcard I got for my birthday. I bought paintbrushes, gesso, and some scrapbook things only to find out that the one bag of goodies cost $90! Lesson learned: next time calculate by price, not the amount of items in your basket.
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