TGIF? Not with a pig.
No school today = my boys get up at five instead of six-thirty. And the pig, well, he slept on the bed, one hoof over snout, and sometime in the still hours he scootched close to me, rubbed the back of his head against my back, and I sighed. This is my life: one mysterious zen kiss from a non-lover Latin, and one warm porcine body in my bed. I want to swap those two boys, put the piggy in a zendo, that silent man in my bed.
I called The Man last night, you know. I left a message on his old-fashioned answering machine, the kind that lurches and burps, gives you more beeps than you expect, left a message that sounded like this: Hey, it's me. Um. You're not there. Duh. Uh, want to do tea sometime soon? I had fun with the pig the other day. Um. Call me? Click.
I'm going to gather the boys together now, let them discuss Mista Frankie Bun Bun Bacon Pigski and the strict division of labor that must occur if we are to keep him. In other words, they do all the work and clean-up. Ha! Like that would actually happen. Hope springs eternal, even on a snout-nosed-zen Friday.
9:09:19 AM 
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