One Foggy Christmas Eve
A beautiful fog wraps the world in cotton. Traffic is an endless shimmering chain of white lights and red, smearing color across the mist, and little else.
While I am in the chiropractic office, fog transforms to diamond rain. Lisa has scolded me for allowing my pride and competitiveness to interfere with my Inner Voice which knew better and told me to stop.
And what is it but pride and competetiveness when Luke sneers, "Do whatever you want; you'll never get it right," which makes me determined to rehearse a move that wasn't properly choreographed to begin with. In the end, of course, he was correct. I never did get it right.
Bruises prove only stubborness that I kept trying.
This week's lesson: when it's wrong, say No.
From Tuesday, 23 December
And Then He Kissed Me
"I'm only doing this because you're here," he said, looking at my husband, "and because I've been drinking." Then he grabbed the back of my head and Laid One On Me.
Right there in the bar.