RLP plays disc golf. How cool is that?

LOVE this!

Today I heard a pub referred to as "the old hug and slug".

I think that's perfect!

snapshot: the loan

"But I really need the money" He says angrily "If you care about me as much as you say, you would do this. It's not like you don't make lots."

She looks at him, trying to figure out if there's a right thing to do. She wants to help him but it's so much money and, in spite of his logic, it really is too much for her to give him right now. But she really doesn't want him to get in trouble. And, quite simply, she loves him and he knows it.

She looks at him again, seeing plainly the desperation on his face. She knows where this conversation will go if she says no. She knows what will happen if she refuses him.

She sighs, head down as she walks resignedly towards the bank machine.

snapshot: falling

"Oooh stop, it hurts!" She sputtered through her tears. Tears of laughter. How long had it been since she'd laughed this hard - hard enough to make her stomach ache with it? She marvelled at how funny he was, how comfortable it was to lose herself in this laughter here... with him. She felt her heart almost bursting; it seemed she could not smile wide enough to accomodate the happiness she was feeling. His eyes smiled back at her, sparkling with mischief, he would not let her rest - it seemed like he could keep her laughing forever.

Is this it then? she wondered, surprised at the realization. Is this what it feels like to truly fall in love with someone?

She sighed happily, smiling brightly at him and then he said something else which made her laugh once more.

snapshots: the unexpected series

OK, so it seems I have started something. I was going to just keep going with it, see where it took me without explaining. I think many of you know me well enough not to need the explanation. But I thought that I would say one or two words about it now, and maybe maybe I'll explain more later.

What is now the "Snapshots" series probably needs a disclaimer or two; or maybe a PSA.

First of all, the beginning of it was written as a one off - actually inspired by something completely unrelated but as I was writing it morphed into "Futility" and became a springboard for something I've been wanting to write about for awhile.

Secondly, some of it may end up being... less pleasant to read. And possibly worthy of some sort of content advisory. It depends how deep I go with it and I don't know yet about that.

That's all I'm going to say for now. If anyone is concerned please remember that these are snapshots: old and losing focus but still capable of bringing back the memories and emotions associated with the moments captured there. But being snapshots I can put them away in a box where they belong - maybe that's what I'm doing.

In the dream there was kissing. Damn that alarm clock!

snapshot: Sanctuary

She slid down into the bubbles, issuing the first contented sigh she'd uttered in what seemed like weeks. The frustration had finally gotten to her and she'd started to cry as soon as he asked how her day was.

"Stay here." He said as he gently took her shoulders and sat her down on the couch. She heard the bath running and shortly she caught the scent of her favourite bath bubbles. "Come on" he called from the bathroom. He helped her undress, like a mother with a child, simply caring for her. Easing into the bathtub - candles lit around the bathroom. "I'll make supper" he said, turning off the light switch and leaving her alone in the candlelight.

"He takes such good care of me" she thought to herself, sinking still lower into the lavender scented bubbles. "He always knows exactly when I need this, when to take care of me." She could feel the tension leaving her as she felt the comfort envelop her like a warm blanket. "Such good care of me..." She sighed again with a smile finally coming to her lips.

overanalysis

I'm suddenly 16...or maybe 12... I am analyzing the two vitally different situations too much, and too often aloud to the same two people (and for that I am sorry). The thoughts go in circles and my train of thought follows. I want to veer off the familiar track to an answer hidden down a side road somewhere but I can't find the switch.

I must be driving them crazy. I'll try to bite my tongue from now on.

Or at least for awhile.

It drives me crazy that I can't ask the questions of the people who actually may be able to answer them. On the one hand, it hurts me more than I can express that I find myself unable to approach someone who was once so approachable. But the other... the other answer, I'm just not sure I need yet. That answer may end the anticipation and the mystery and I'm not prepared yet for that to happen.