Friday, February 18, 2011

To Grandmother's House We Go




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So, this one is for my wife.


All that swimming in the deep waters of home, and family. Of motherly love and guilt, and the ghosts of the dead.


There is no stranger journey to make, nor one more familiar.



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Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
and the hunter home from the hill.


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Hey, Ezra, man, I made her that calamari.


She is so my slave.


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My inner nervous little poodle is fast asleep. I am deeply happy and contented now. It is raining and raining and I don't go back to work until Tuesday. I aim to spend the next few days cooking lavish meals for my lady friend and laying on the sofa and rubbing her feet while we watch Battlestar Gallactica and drank whine and eat cookies.


Eat yr hearts out.



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I am grateful to you all for the love and affection you bring to this small gathering.



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Namaste.


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5 Comments:

Blogger Mim said...

Super, super! Spooky and touchingly playful, dear Tearful.

Are you feeding ghosts too? What's does the grandmother offer in her bowl?

You've got me thinking: what breed is my inner nervous creature? I have one too, but not now because your witty metaphor made me smile. The creature doesn't yap when I laugh.

Warm regards from South Beach to both of you and hurrah for coupledom and supple toes

6:15 PM  
Blogger dottie kee bones said...

i'm glad you guys can hang out for a few days and leave the world outide.

(:


p.s. i made an ezra thing too - sardines and pasta. huge hit. huge!

6:31 PM  
Anonymous nursemyra said...

Red whine or white whine?

;-)

10:18 PM  
Blogger Petit fleur said...

Yum. Cookies and wine.

Actually, with cookies, I'm more of a champagne girl.

Sounds dreamy, Cheers!
pf

6:04 AM  
Blogger Marylinn Kelly said...

Glad to know she's home, the calamari was presented. The photo feels steeped in ghosts and the tricks they can get up to.

4:21 PM  

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