I'm really not morose all the time, I promise.

Phone calls from (and to, thanks caller ID) (oh and emails from) my sweet mama these days always start with the same sentance: Are you ok?

And I always answer the same way: I'm ok, I promise, mama.

Yesterday I called home and we had our usual exchange and then she paused and said: you're not ok. I read your blog post and you sounded sad.

And yes. I am sad. I literally sat and cried in my beer to a girlfriend at the corner bar last night. And I'll do that again before this is all over. She told me last night that I was on a walk to the beach, and right now I'm stuck in the mountains without any matches. I believe her. But I'm walking.

But I also laugh a lot too. I still find things funny, and it was only after a business meeting at lunch today (where the business was conducted hastily and we went on to talk about other things) that I found myself lingering after my appointed hour break, because I didn't want to stop laughing so soon.

Actual conversation with lunch companions:

Kristi: I lie to my daughter sometimes. Actually, I do it a lot. I think I might be going to hell for that.
Brandon: what kind of lies? Sometimes parents tell their children lies, you know, like the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus.
K: no, not that kind of lies. Bad kinds. Like, when she was little and before she could count, I told her that she had 11 toes. And then when I would count them, I would just count in the 11th toe. She never noticed, and it made her feel special. Then, there was that time we went to Disney World and she kept asking to see Roger Rabbit. There is no Roger Rabbit in Orlando Disney, I checked. So I told her that Roger Rabbit moved to Cuba and we couldn't visit him there because of Fidel Castro and the embargo and stuff. And when she asked why we didn't have an Elf on the Shelf like her other friends I told her that Elves were all allergic to dogs and we couldn't have one in the house because it would get lung disease from dog hair dander but really because I didn't want to have to keep up with moving it every night. And she also calls my nativity set the Baby Jesus Play Table, and I know that's not a lie but it is sacreligious but I think it's funny so I don't tell her otherwise.

This whole conversation led to only one thing:

YEAH IT DID.

 

Dance party ensued. And I also Googled "Did Roger Rabbit move to Cuba?" when I got back to work just to make sure he was still stateside. He is.