Mi Casa Es Su Casa

Hey!  Guess what!  It's FRIDAY!  Yesterday, I saw a teaser for ER on tv and asked myself, out loud, "Huh, I wonder why ER is on Wednesday nights now?" and my 10 year old rolled his little eyes and me and said, "Mawm, it's Thursday."

Well I'll be a greased Jesus.  I lost a whole day.  I also lost 5 hours to a toddler who could not sleep anywhere but on my big fat tummy while she burned off what I am praying is the last of her fever.  Kids really stink when they're sick, you know that?  Good thing she was irresistibly cute.

I managed to get some "work" done while she slept, and there may or may not be a post on that other blog I write today.  Look, we've only had 2 months.  Stop pressuring us!

I'm rambling, I know.  I haven't been this tired since she was born.  I can't believe how sick she is, that I am literally losing days from the lack of sleep.  I called my husband at work and asked him to bring me home a ginormous cheeseburger and all the fries, and he told me he needed to go unwind after work before he came home.  Shut up, his week has been MUCH worse than mine.  So I am getting out of the house in the morning, right about when you're reading this, to go mail some Christmas boxes and drink coffee and not get perspired on for a few hours.  Until then, I'm waiting up for that cheeseburger and typing this.

So, while I wait, I might as well tell you about Casa* since it's her birthday and all, and I almost totally missed it.  Casa doesn't read this blog; I don't think Casa even has indoor plumbing to be honest.  She's my soulmate, my love, my right hand man, my sounding board, my Missing Piece.  And she lives in fucking COSTA RICA.  In the hills, not the touristy cool part with walls that go all the way up to the ceiling and stuff.

I met her the day she returned to Colorado after burying her 16 year old baby brother in East Lansing.  I had an 8 month old baby, and she had a hole in her heart.  I starting working at the tiny cafe in Denver that she worked at the day she left to bury him, and I was out back smoking a cigarette when she came sauntering across the parking lot her first day home.  I saw her, and I just knew.

I never expected another person to come into my life and to completely shatter everything I thought I knew about relationships, about people, about love.  She did just that; silently, quietly and effortlessly.  That dirty pot smoking hippie and this freaked out spaz newlywed uptight new mom wrapped ourselves in each other the way the stories tell me that lovers do.  Our lives intertwined, our souls melded.  I can't explain it, it just was.  Is.  Will always be.

I dove into her the way I don't ever do with people.  I am cautious, I am slow.  My other two best girlfriends can tell you all about that.  We damn near lived together, she used to play "A Case of You" on the guitar and sing to my pregnant belly when I was cooking up a shiny new 2of3, we made each other little gifts out of string and beads, we took pictures of each other incessantly, she held my hand faithfully through some really hard shit, and she never waivered in her devotion.  Never, through all my bullshit and my drama and my heartbreak, she was right there.  I'd like to think I was there for her, too.  All I know is that I love her just as much today, 30 years old, a wife and mother, as I did 10 years ago, silly, young and carefree, even though she's in another country, even though I've never seen her son, my godson, and she's never seen my daughter, her third god child, and we only get to talk twice a year if we're lucky.  She's the most perfect thing that's ever happened to me, and even though she won't read this, I think she knows.

me & casa New Year's Eve 2001



*Yes, Casa is what everyone calls her. 1of3 couldn't (or wouldn't) say her name, he called her Ca or Casa. Now the whole world does.