Living with an artist, Part 9

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This is our Christmas decoration.

The star painting has the word “sweater” on it. I ask Mo what it means. She shrugs, in that way suggesting that if I need to ask I don’t deserve to know. I get that shrug a lot.

I ran the neighborhood loop today, the first time in a long time after the string of dog encounters. They were all behind their little fences today. One large pit bull gave me the Stink Eye through the fence. I would see him mentally plotting. I totally chickened out after a mile.

I asked Mo after the run if she could get some Mace this evening (she’s off today.) She shrugged, in that way that suggests she probably will but I better never take her for granted.

The neighborhood loop may end up being the best running place after all. Beats me. Almost three years here and I still haven’t found a home. Maybe that’s a sign. Or maybe I’m just weird.

Mo’s back from five days in Seattle. BK is finally back to normal (honest, I didn’t know I was supposed to feed her.) Life is warm and happy. I’m a lucky guy.

I tell her I like my soda the way I like my women: Warm and fuzzy. She says I shouldn’t post that on the blog because people might read it wrong. So there you go.

I lament the gloomy day. Mo shrugs and says that if you want to see the sun in Seattle, you have to order out for it. I have no idea what that means, but it makes me smile.

I know I’ve got it pretty good. And pretty bad.

But mostly, I have no idea what “sweater” means.

Best to keep a little mystery in life …

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About gary

no sock monkeys were harmed in the making of this blog.
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2 Responses to Living with an artist, Part 9

  1. geedee says:

    At long last! I get to leave a comment!!!

    Only problem: I got nuttin’.

  2. dr pangloss says:

    when I have a bad week and I come to your site and get to read blogs like this – it makes me smile. thanks.

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