Him: I don’t understand.  Why do I have to ask your father’s permission?

Me: We’re Italian.  It’s not so much for Daddy as it is for Momma.  It’s just the Italian way.

Him: But it doesn’t fit into my timeline..

I hate that word.  Timeline.  It makes everything sound so planned, so defined, as if we don’t hit that deadline, we’re backsliding.  As if we have to make this certain date.  Whatever happened to spontaneity?

(These are the words of a nervous, nervous woman.)

Last night was lovely.  It really was.  I worked till late, got in some overtime, then ran to WalMart at rush hour to pick up dog food and light bulbs. 

WalMart at rush hour is a very interesting place.  A true melting pot.  One I really don’t like to be in.  But they’re worlds cheaper than Target for what I needed, so I thought running in wouldn’t kill me.  And it didn’t; I got out alive.  But it made me remember why I hated WalMart.

Went home and did a ton of Honey-Do’s that had never gotten done.  All I have left on my list is some curtains that need to be hung in the guest room, and he has power tools.  Yes, I could’ve gone to his house and gotten them, but he’s taller than me.  So there.

Made a fantastic chicken salad.

Took Charlie for a run while Mabel had a jumbone.  He’s a great running dog.  He needs a choke collar (this lead he’s on now is a great upper body workout for me, but it doesn’t do much in the way of control), but I think that, in a few months, he’ll be the ideal running dog.  He runs like a horse, and if you’ve ever ridden, you know that you pace yourself (even your breathing) to the pattern of the gallop.  He sets the pace for the run and sticks with it.  I’m very proud of him.

I came back and took a VERY hot bath, talked to Bryan for an hour and a half, and called it a night.  I slept through the night and woke up happy today.  Bryan and the Boy come back tonight, and I’ve missed them terribly.  Can’t wait for the reunion.

All things are looking up.  It’s a good day.