Jogger

Shout out to my marriage, survived and celebrated seven year (itch) Monday October 10, 2011. We went to Great Adventure.  What better way to symbolize our time together than roller coasters? We had a blast. Road everything twice, no kids. The park is surprisingly clean and actually.... pretty! I sware, highly recommend. Oh and bring your wallet and patience, get the fast pass. It's worth it, so awesome to free fall and just be out there.

Anyway, I've mentioned my anxiety and now my roller coaster (haha) so I've started running in the morning, listening to awesome music, Pumped up Kicks, by Foster the People. I love this song so much that when Danny's brother, my kids uncle, bought them white patent leather high tops with black trim and fluorescent piping, I nearly cried. Tears of joy. Pumped up kicks! I would never and now I love them. Merci amu!
   
Better run, better run, faster than my bullet. 

Will I ever get sick of it? Probably tomorrow. And I'm convinved I've got The Moves Like Jagger and that Whole Food's got the key. So much to dig. Especially the people that are just waking up as I move by. So far there's Pancakes and Secret Smoker.

So dawn is breaking and everytime I get to this house I smell smoke. Cigarette smoke, from the backyard. She must be in the driveway, the person, I think she, cause I just do, cause that isn't now but one day maybe could be me, but for the grace of God. And each time I am surprised. I thought maybe once, a bad day, but nope last four times, thar she blows. And every time I think, really? At seven a.m.? Do people still do this? Seems so 1990's to me and 1950's and like the word jog, and the soda, Tab, 1980's for sure. And I'm in the middle of "i sware i'll behave... take me by the tongue and i'll know you." Feeling as sexy as that song is. And then the smell. And everytime I want to run up her driveway, tell her I can smell it, and demand a drag.

Next is pancakes. A gorgeous front porch, it must be ten feet deep, an old Victorian painted out in rich tans and browns. The woman comes out and walks her long front walkway to retrieve her paper in a velvet brown robe that (coincidentally?) matches the house. She has a big ass and a cozy gait. I can see inside her open door to a dark foyer, opening to rooms on either side, I'm not there long, I'm moving, like I said, but I think I bet she's going in to eat pancakes. I sware you can almost smell the syrup.

More later, I'm so tired. I'm going to listen to my pumped up kicks and hit the hay.

Best all, love you!!

p.s,forgot to mention got rejected by an agent for my new novel, BUT am sending out a tape to a big agent, who will look at moi.  it's an introduction through a friend, i hope i don't disappoint.  i think i'll post the link to my audition here if its good enough. Kinda freaked out, and would love feedback. But then i'm also like whatever, I have nothing to lose so why not risk it? Do you know what I mean? No seriously? Do you? Where are you not risking and should be? Or risking too much?

Crazy right? Peace and stay in the day.

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