1/27/2013

Up and Over: All Over the Map

That phrase, "up and over," never fails to have me giggling. It's one of Nora Robert's favorite things to write in the Eve Dallas series whenever Eve and Roarke are engaged in coitus (for Big Bang fans).  Up and over. Up and over what?

I think I'd get tired of being constantly taken up and over---well, I don't know--I get it, the orgasm is awesome, and Roarke is dreamy, so probably no, a person wouldn't get tired of the actual experience. The phrase, though, perhaps...

I'll admit that I now use that phrase for other things, like up and over crazy...that line where I've gone too far, you know?

Of course, this leads me to ponder a conversation Kathleen and I had on facebook over this photo:


See, I removed all of my sock monkeys off the back of the couch when we put this new cover on and I decided they (the sock monkeys) could go to another room. To me, the room is so much less cluttered...but Kathleen rightly points out that's not really true. But I see empty space and think, put something there. Or three somethings there or a dozen things there. I dislike blank canvases and want to fill the space.

Like I fill my time. Hmmmm. Lily's started expressing how uncomfortable she is with silence, and so she talks whenever there's quiet, to fill the void. Bobby and I do quite well with silent car rides because even though we're not talking, we're companionable, but throw Lily in the car and that silence drives her crazy. We can't listen to music because Rosie screeches "too loud" way louder than the very low music, so I guess I can understand that to a kid who has never had silence that quiet would be off-putting.

I get it, as being home alone in a quiet house is freaky--so many years have been spent with children, loud and busy ones at that. I no longer know how to do quiet and alone and not busy. I'm not sure I ever did. I'm working at learning, though, because I have no choice. I'm bushed, beat, worn out. When I'm not teaching or carting kids around, I crash. Of course, one could argue that being asleep is not really learning how to be alone in a quiet house, but hey, we all have to start somewhere. And it does cut down on my shopping.

It's not just my house, though, that is filled. My head is, too. For years I scoffed at Rick's contention that he could be thinking absolutely nothing, never having had a silent moment in my head. I wake up tired, my dreams are so busy. I'm not really sure Rick's honestly had quiet in his head, but that may be because I can't imagine that state. Maybe he just doesn't want to talk about it. Too noisy to do that.

Sometimes, I think that I am trying to arrange my outer space to reflect my inner space, one where leopard print and zebra print compete with sunflowers and buddhas and books and toys.

 And a handsome husband, too, who I never
 get tired of seeing smile.
At least there's still some room to stretch out,
though, and do a horizontal 
"Friends, Romans, countrymen"
speech whenever the mood strikes.


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