NASCAR and one of life's many lessons

A couple of Sunday's ago Mr. London came over to watch NASCAR and to eat a wonderfully prepared dinner I had so loving crafted. Now, I don't know which part of that is more surprising, the fact that I can cook or the NASCAR part. It should be, and I would hope, that it is the part that starts with NAS and ends with CAR, which has found you on the floor and with your mouths agape; because (blows on knuckles) I am quite the little chef.

We hadn't seen each other in a few weeks due to the crappy ass weather and also due to work and such, so at my door mere minutes upon his departure from the plane he greets me with a bouquet of very lovely (and my favorite) flowers and two six-packs of tallboys. I gush over the flowers and I laugh at the tallboys. Wow. Today is gonna be redneck central in my humble abode. However, the entire point of the day's events was 1) to spend some quality time together hanging out on the big ugly comfy couch and 2) for me to spend the next four or so hours making fun of a ridiculous "sport." Mission was accomplish on both one and two. We spent the entire day kissing, cuddling, and just generally entwined within each other (ah, lovely) and I spent the next four+ hours laughing and making fun of a ridiculous "sport."

Upon my closing of the door behind him after sitting in the dark for several hours, bodies still entwined around one another, it became very apparent that I need to tell him how I feel. How I would move. How much I care about him. Unfortunately, this didn't become clear to me until after I had closed the door behind him. I had periodically throughout the day conducted an internal gut check. "How'm I doing? No, I'm okay. This is okay. He leaves in five weeks. I'm okay. This is fine. Nothing to it. I'm not detached from the situation, but I'm just being realistic. He leaves in five weeks. For London. Just enjoy the day. Five weeks. London." Upon closing the door and taking a few seconds to lock all the locks, I concluded, "Yeah. I need to talk to him. Couldn't be more apparent." ...and off to bed with tears in my eyes I went.

So, after thinking about it last week and giving the situation some ponderance, yep. I would and could spend the rest of my life with him. Or at the very least a year or two. Naw. I'm going with the rest of my life. I'm ready to tell him this. We have some very, very tentative plans for Saturday. I will tell him then. (As in, last Saturday.) I call Thursday. No return call. I call Saturday. No return call. Not surprised. Not angry in the least little bit. Again, that whole picking up an entire life and moving half way around the world in five weeks, thing. But, boy howdy does it sure suck to be on the verge of wanting to tell someone I'm ready to get on with the rest of my life, that I'm ready for the rest of my life to start oh, say a week ago, and.............................................................. (yeah, just keep holding that.)

So, boys and girls today's lesson is: never put off telling someone how you feel, because you never know when you may have another chance to do so. You're welcome. Again, in addition to the inner dorkings every Thursday I try to pass all of my little life lessons onto all of you so you can learn with and through me. Again, you're welcome.

On a much lighter note:
Nick: So, what'd you do over the weekend?

PG: Um. (laughing) Well, I watched NASCAR and I drank tallboys all day.

Nick: I want your Hag card and your toaster oven back immediately.

(This past weekend)Billy: So, whatchya doing?

PG: (Hesitantly) Um, watching NASCAR.

Billy: Oh, is your cable broken?

PG: Sadly, no.