A Girl...

London Undies

I call this one "Four O'clock." Another way to look at teatime. Photo taken this morning of the latest addition to our criminally large collection of beverage containers.

***

Because of the whole freeway collapse earlier this week, I didn't pick up Simon at the airport but instead at the BART station near our house. By the time he called to say he was getting off the train, I was wishing I'd brought my own barf bag because I was so full of what? anxious excitement? nervous glee? that I nearly lost it all over the sidewalk. If there's a "happy cry" and a "sad cry," can there not also be a "happy barf"?

Instead of staying in the car while he made his way through the train station, I got out and stood beside it so that when he approached I could greet him with a big hug and kiss instead of an awkward sideways driver-to-passenger front-seat contortion of love. I put on lipstick (oh yes) and waited. It started to rain.

When I finally saw him off in the distance (bearded!), my feet started tapping around on the pavement of their own accord. He was still a good fifty yards away so I stood on my tiptoes and waved (because standing on my tipotes would be a clear sign to all the people that stood between Simon and me that I was not waving at them, yes?). As he came closer, big stupid smiles overtook both our faces and my toetaps became a full-fledged shuffle. I gave up trying to be cool, rushed toward him, and all but tour-jetéd into his arms.

You know when you see a couple making out on a park bench in the rain and even though they're drenched they look completely lovely and charming in their coordinating-outfit-damp-supermodel-Ralph-Lauren-ad sort of way, and even if you're happily in love yourself, you can't help but want to be them in that moment because it's all so perfectly-composed-black-and-white-but-tinted-with-pink-photograph-that-you-might-buy-in-poster-form-at-the-mall-if-you're-fourteen? Well, yesterday, I was them. We were them. We were they. It was us. As we pecked at each other, patting cheeks, stroking hair, a woman coming off the train looked at us and smiled and I was glad I'd remembered the lipstick because we were definately a Scene.

***

When we got home, I subjected the poor guy to all those things he surely did not miss one bit while he was away: a recap of America's Next Top Model, a detailed description of how Eve spent her evenings and early mornings, and a short presentation of this one really hard combo I learned on my Cardio Party workout program (kick ball-change, step, lift, lunge, pivot, pivot, again!). He was less than thrilled. But then he snored all night long, so we're totally even.

***

And finally:

He flew to London (but not to France);
He brought me back some underpants.

And that's all I have to say about that.