We’re talkin’ Gloria Estefan style.
We’re talkin’ Ian Dury and The Blockheads level.
We’re talkin’ Snap! shit.
I went from struggling to catch anything to an inability tomissanything.
I’m currently back to leading the league in shutouts for the season with this little calendared winter break welcomed.
It’s only a couple days, but that’s all we needed to move the things we didn’t wanna sell out of Grams house before it’s officially transferred to the Shaws.
They’re good people.
Always have been.
There’s no growing up in Middlebrook and not knowin’ or runnin’ into at least one of ‘em.
Grams selling to their family for the land to be turned into more space to grow their now world wide known beer makes a lot of sense.
Plus, us getting a free batch each season for the next couple of decades makes the whole sale a little sweeter.
Post a somewhat chaste kiss, Gillybean giggles. “Would it be weird if we made one more cup of coffee in that before we hit the road?”
I let my eyes briefly meet hers prior to letting them fall to the last object we need to pack, the coffeemaker I can hardly still believe works after so many years. “Nah. I think that would be pretty good Verve treatment.”
A fake gasp escaping my fiancée causes her muscles to clamp down around my softening cock in such a way it threatens to stir it back up for an encore. “Did you just make a song reference post the 2000s?!”
“No, Slayer, I did not.” Gingerly sliding myself out and back into my jeans is effortless. “’Bitter Sweet Symphony’ – which mos’ people don’t realize was more than jus’ a tiny sample of The Rolling Stones ‘The Last Time’ – was released in ’97.” Reaching for a nearby, clean dish towel occurs next. “Ya know.” I turn the faucet on to warm water. “Same year Third Eye Blind made the insanely catchy ‘Semi-Charmed Life’.”
She waits until I’ve hummed a couple notes of the song to good-naturedly groan, “Ughhhhhh…those notes always get stuck in my head!”
“I can play ‘em really well on the kazoo.”
“Of course you can,” Gillybean snickers while waiting for me to gently clean up the mess I’ve made.
And it’s one mess I never get enough of seeing.
Or really makin’.
Now that we’ve officially moved in together – something that happened theinstantwe made it back to Dalvegan – figuring outwhento do the dirty tango is a lot less difficult, although the teendoesmake getting creative still fairly necessary.
But a little less than before.
His continued strive for independence – his own friends, his own interests, his own sport – provides quite the apple in that aspect.
Getting her house sold is next on the never-ending list of things to do now that we’re officially wrapped up with Grams – who I know is watchin’ over us with Gramps and Mom.
I appreesh that my Slayer didn’trushto get that done.
That she didn’t add additional stress to still fragile ice.
That she let me play lead and sang backup so to speak.
I always strive to do the same for her.
I alwayswill.
Whether that’s expanding her practice – something she might consider next year once she gets her schedule back on track – or speaking at sexual harassment seminars to other hockey teams – on behalf of the league’s determination to dobetterin that regard – or simply trusting Bronny to drive himself to school in his new, used car – now that he officially has his license – I am happy to go withherflow rather than having her have to go with mine.
