The wind has been howling here. I am rather tired of it. Jesse came home wanting to turn on the air-conditioner. No way! It is only March! So we had windows open and art stuff flying around the room during class. It was a great way to clear off all the pictures and papers from the fridge. And it was still hot.
I have a new soldier from Soldier's Angels. Mama Lou will probably mother him to death. He comes from a big family, so maybe he will be patient with me. It reminded me of a story - thought I would share it with you.
We were at a junior ski race in Taos Ski Valley when Jesse was eight years old. When it came time for lunch, I could not find Jesse anywhere. She was not with any of the coaches or racers. We were suppose to meet at the bottom lodge for lunch - no Jesse. If any of you have ever skied Taos, it is a big place and a litte scary. While skiing back to the bottom lodge, one of the parents pointed out, "That is the run where that kid was killed last week." Great, I was already a basketcase worrying about Jesse. After lunch when everyone met back up at the racecourse, I found Miss Independent. She had gone off with some parent and had lunch at the Phoenix. My head hurt from worrying, trying not to cry, and from trying not to kill her once I found her. Bear Britton, a long time best friend, pulled me over into his lap while we sat on the side of the mountain to watch the race and began messaging my neck and shoulders. I became a puddle of butter. We were sitting that way when some man came by and said, "Hey Brian, that's not your wife!" Brian put his arms around me and said, "No, but if it was, we would have ten kids and be really fat."
What a thing to say, and so perfect and true! I should have had ten kids and so should Bear. But we didn't, and we are fat anyway.