JavaJennifer

It’s one hour earlier here than it is back home which is an oxymoron because when I’m in Kansas City, I am home.

Home is my favorite 4 letter word which I know is shocking to those among you who know me who would swear my favorite 4 letter begins with F and ends with K.

Love is my drug of choice here and I’m OD ing especially so on these trips because I’ve seen so many people that I haven’t seen in some instances, double digit years.

It’s cold here. No. It’s arctic. Frigid. Colder than a Witches Tit in a Brass Bra (now THERE’S a Midwest expression) and I’m wearing a pair of cuddly socks that were a gift from MomCat.

MomCat is a dear friend of my Mom’s from Lincoln, Nebraska and when I was growing up, I worshipped her daughter. We were largely inseparable until my mom’s husband moved us first to North Lincoln which in the late 70’s may have well been Iowa. And then it was Iowa. I lost touch with her daughter but not her Mom whose cards and letters have followed me to college, Florida, to DC and even to my mom’s place in California where I usually spend my birthday.

This year, it was my mom’s 60th birthday that found us both in Kansas City at the same. MomCat drove up from Lincoln with her husband, DadCat (??) and on her way from her hotel to the car, she slipped on the ice and fractured her wrist. She missed the party but undeterred, I brought my vodka breath and my mom to the hospital where she was laid up with a crabby roommate in the next bed. We opened her gifts this year and one of mine from her was this pair of socks that I’ve already washed twice and don’t want to take them off my feet. Ever since I started knitting, I have a deep appreciation for beautiful socks. These are black, red and grey and impossibly soft. I love them.

Love. Another great 4 letter word.

The thing about having all this love in my system is that it’s comingled with all the alcohol I’ve been drinking so it’s hard to tell if the warm feeling in my heart is the love or the impending hangover. But let’s say for the sake of argument that it’s the love. I am at my best when I’m with my family. Except when I’m at my worst.

Tags: Home, Love

This entry was posted by javajennifer on Tuesday, December 23rd, 2008 at 8:04 am and is filed under Blog Blend. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.