Fourth Decade: Sucking the marrow out of life since 1969.

Saturday, May 29, 2010


Where the hell have I been?

Good question.

As best as can be described, I have been in communion. 

Not Holy Communion, for all you Cath-o-holics.

But communion of the deepest kind. And I've come up for air. Sweet intoxicating air.
Pronunciation: \kə-ˈmyü-nyən\
Etymology: Middle English, from Latin communion-, communio mutual participation, from communis
Date: 14th century
1 : an act or instance of sharing
3 : intimate fellowship or rapport
I have been in communion with myself. Spending some serious 1:1 time with numero uno. Loving myself is hard work, you know that? Ever try it? Really, you should. It is good for the soul to love yourself.
I have been in communion with the LD Michigan Man. When he began dedicating some valuable after-work time to getting to know me better, I decided to do the same rather than blow him off for some local flavor instead. The DVR'd shows could wait, the blog could wait, baseball could be watched simultaneously, and sometimes, even the sleep could wait.
What we found:
  • An ability to talk on the phone for hours without an awkward pause even though we're two people who really cannot stand to be on the phone.
  • A combined love of music that seems interwoven with our lives.
  • A combined love of travel and history.
  • A deeper love of baseball than we originally realized.
  • A man who thinks and plans ahead for all possible opportunities.
  • A woman who is wicked afraid to fall again.
  • A man who is incredibly patient and not at all slimeball. (The hurt woman in me keeps wondering how this is possible.)
  • Two people who, in one month, have inspired the other to start dreaming again about things each had thought were out-of-reach in their respective lives.
I dropped ALL of the others in the stable, and never even cringed for a moment over them. Easy come, easy go. 
But LD Michigan might be a keeper. For the record, I say might because I'm trying to stay level-headed, not because I sense a single red flag. You know me, I wouldn't keep red flags to myself. 

Am I a little wary that I don't see any red flags? Surprised, yes. Wary, no.
We meet in 32 days, and then we'll know a lot more.
Until then, I am enjoying this communion, and as he and I both agreed, "we might as well fly while we feel we can."

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