My kind of perfection

I think of things, witty things to say, or to type. I saw a friends Facebook status the other day and she asked if it was strange that she thinks in movie quotes. Someone posted below that it was ok, because she thinks in Facebook status updates. I think in blog posts.

I have a few blogs that I follow, one that I followed for a few years now and through the years I have gotten to a point where I almost feel like I know her personally. She writes so candidly that you really almost feel like she is talking to you. Many of her posts are just about the walks she took that day with her girls, and how they made a pie when they got home but somehow the posts are always interesting, and you leave them feeling like you glimpsed a tiny part of her fabulous day. I hope I create that. I strive to give that. On to my post.

I sat in a safety training class today, a somewhere between safety goal setting and the kid from transportation trying to explain the safety chair process I went to LaLa Land. You know that place where what you are supposed to be listening to, or watching fades out into the background and your eyes glaze over. I was there. I could almost smell Emery. She smelled like Noodle & Boo lotion. I could feel her sweet skin on the tip of my nose, and I actually wiggled my head as if I was nuzzling her sweet neck. Then the whiteboard came back into focus, and the class was teasing me, as I was in charge of rewarding people with chocolate for their participation and I was so far out in LaLa Land that I had missed someones reward. The minutes ticked by, it was now 4:03pm and the class was supposed to be over at 4:00. I could hardly keep my rear end in the seat, when we were finally dismissed, I seriously almost ran to my car only to be rewarded with traffic the WHOLE way home.  I stumbled my way in the door, to be rewarded with this.

She is blissful. She is my definition of perfection. I crave her weight in my arms. It takes everything I have to pry myself away from her sleeping body every morning. Things like foreclosure of my home or repossession of my car seem not so bad if it meant that I could quit my job, and stay home with her. I pray that she will understand why I leave her warm body alone in my bed and I pray that the gracious family members I leave her with will love her as much as I do.

There is a sleeping cherub curved against my hip as I type, so fair readers I leave you, to go to her. Good Night!