A Girl...

More than Words

1. All the time in the world to write, and nothing to write about.
2. No time to write because you're too busy "living the content."

It's textbook No. 2 around here this week. How can I record every little (beautiful! delicious! hilarious!) detail of the (awesome! excellent! wonderful!) weekend when there's no downtime in which to do it, what with all the challenging work projects, scrumptious homemade meals, schoompiferous rubbing of noses, and spontaneous egg tossing going on?

(Last night we found ourselves near the beach at sunset with thirty-six newly purchased eggs, so we took four and did what we do with them.

Close parentheses.)

So that's what we did last night instead of record a webcast, arrange the new furniture, or clean the dirty laundry off the floor.

The good/bad news is that I didn't take any pictures while we were in southern California, which means I don't have to spend an hour editing and uploading them/don't have any evidence of Simon's mom's beautiful home, the pile of Mongolian BBQ we snarfed, or the gorgeous view from the hills overlooking Laguna Beach. Ah well, next time. And there will be a next time because I was enthusiastically invited back! Yay me!

The short of it is that the trip to meet Simon's mom went so well it couldn't have gone weller. Well, maybe I wouldn't have tripped on the brick border around the front porch and nearly flew ass over teakettle onto my face, but what's a little good-natured arm-flailing when everything else was peachy and easy as pie? Or cake. (We never did get around to baking that chocolate cake, but she sent us home with the mix and a tub of frosting, as well as a string of twinkly lights (for inside the car!), two travel guides to England, a new pair of 300-count sheets, Terms of Endearment, and hugs.)

The visit was a hodgepodge of driving past historical locations (the coffeehouse Simon worked at, the family's first house in California, Mel's high school), pointing out locations in hand-shaped Michigan by holding out an open palm, and showcasing our musical talents (Simon played his Gibson and his harmonicas, and I played the piano while mother and son duetted "Don't It Make My Brown Eyes Blue.") Everything was comfortable and friendly and fun, and I think I've finally met someone who loves my guy as much as I do.

Even if we hadn't ended up liking each other, we both would have faked it for Simon's sake, but lo and behold, we got along perfectly and Simon would often walk in a room to find us knee-deep in a discussion about King Lear or why it is not okay to name your baby Ulysses. Also, if you're into cosmic coincidences, I kid you not his mom was wearing a pair of pajama bottoms just like ones I have, and along with a pack of Godiva chocolates, she gave me a cute little box of monogrammed notecards, and wouldn't you know it, they match exactly a notepad my mom gave me for Christmas.

The best part of the trip was by far the time we spent watching home videos into the wee hours, laughing with tears in our eyes. Result: I think my fixation with having this man's baby has been eclipsed by a desire to have his breakdancing second-grader, his barely-there-mustachioed pre-teen, and his earnestly romantic young adult playing "More Than Words" on his first acoustic guitar. I didn't think it was possible to fall more in love with him, but aparently what the heck do I know?

It has since come through the grapevine that our gracious hostess enjoyed my company too, and I'm already looking forward to our next trip down south, in a few weeks. The meeting was a success, the sunshine and warm weather was much-needed and -appreciated, and seven hours in the car with my boy is always dream. We held hands and read Cosmo all the way home. Happy happy happy.

Posted by Leah at April 18, 2006 12:27 PM