Yesterday was freakin' excellent. I didn't get out of bed -- except once, to pee and to post that photo -- until noon. Jack and Jackson made me eggs and bacon and toast and a cappuccino and slapped that fucker on a tray and let me eat it in bed and finally watch the end of Brokeback Mountain and cry and cry like the sap I am. Then Jackson came in to watch Wile E. Coyote cartoons with the dog while I hunkered down and nursed my sad Wyoming trailer thoughts. I couldn't keep it up for that long, though, eventually I gave in to the Looney Tunes glee. Then Jack had a gig downtown so Jackson and Katie and I were able to relax after all that exhausting relaxation and sleep for another three hours.
I used to date this guy where once a month or so one of us would say to the other, "It's your day." If it was Your Day you could pick the movie without fear of eye-rolling or negotiation. Miniature golf and pea soup in Buellton? Whatever you say, honey. It was a seriously great thing for our relationship. The unconditional giving was limited to one 24-hour period, so I could say yes with a smile all day because all through the six-hour Schwartzeneggar video festival and midnight run to Taco Bell I was thinking of things that I wanted to do that he would hate with every fiber of his being. Especially if you're kind of a contentious couple anyway and one of you is filled to the brim with moral certitude and the other is kind of a passive-aggressive doormat? (Hi! Guess which one was me!) You have permission to make each other miserable on a regular basis. It's totally awesome.
Anyway, I'm milking the mother's day groove today. I don't have to go to the office and I'm at home taking photos of G.I. Joes doing yoga and I'm not being polite about that Entemann's cheese danish, I'm picking all the good stuff off the top. With a fork, though.