I was thinking, just yesterday (not like thinking is so unique to me that I am announcing it, but like I considered something afresh), as your lips were on mine, that one reason you're a real firecracker is because—corny as it will sound—each time you kiss me it feels like a show of warm fireworks starts up inside. Do you know what I mean? Like my insides begin to warm and feel like they are expanding, kind of like the feeling you get when you hold your hand real close to a campfire on a cold night.
There are a myriad of reasons I would consider you a firecracker, but this is just one I really felt as you kissed me yesterday.
In other news I am excited to have this week to spend with you and, let's be clear, it's not just because work is some miserable place. I don't mind work. There are nice people there. It's a good job. A really good job. It challenges me. It provides me new experiences. It pays the bills. Yet I would at all times prefer to steal time with you if possible because, well, you are my muse. You are my muse and every soul, moved by both mind and heart, will seek out time with their muse at every opportunity.
I know you always wonder why, and I am ashamed to admit that in areas of the heart and inspiration my analytical mind always fails to find conclusions. I have no explanation for it. I have never been able to explain it. You said yes to one date and I have been committed to you whole heart and mind ever since. You are my Wendy. You are the girl who illuminates the adventurous boy in me and encourages me to dream as large as I would like. You are the girl to whom I would like to show every wonder and with whom I would like to share every adventure, and for no other reason than that you are you.
On this note, though we have much work to do this week, let's not forget to have fun to. Like tomorrow, for instance, let's not forget that Nolan has a day off from school. Let's not forget that it is a holiday for his little heart. Let's not get lost in construction and chicken stuff. May we work hard and effectively, but let's remember to make it a vacation day for him. We will have to head into Ithaca anyway to shop, so let's do someone fun, shall we? Maybe the Sciencenter? I still have a free pass.
In closing, to answer your query, I think that it is not socially acceptable for men to wear skirts because we have such ugly, hairy legs. I mean, we're often pretty repulsive looking in general (with the exception of Brad Pitt), so to wear any outfit that shows off more of the male body or even hints at some unsupported private possessions (think Scottish kilts) I fear the roadways would be lined with casualties as men tried not to look at each other and, as a result, crashed into street signs, walls, etc.
Additionally there has long been a movement to bring women into equality with men. This has always been done through women trying to mimic and achieve the allowances of men (and let's be clear, I have always felt women superior to men, so mimicry is not necessary). Never was the feminist movement interested in equality by injecting female traits and activities into the male population; it has always been women wanting to go to the work place, women wanting to vote, women wearing pants. Do you see what I mean? We moved away from loin cloth and robes long ago as men. It seems more convenient and sensible, out in the working world, to wear pants. Now women do it, but the idea of men going to skirts may just be viewed as backwards (again, not to mention disgusting).
Also it is just a current social requirement (think the church expecting clean shaven priesthood holders). Maybe in another hundred years we'll be back in skirts and women will be wearing overalls.
Bytheway, we should get you another pair of overalls. I always loved you in your overalls.
May the sky forever be your vantage point. I love you.
.Boy
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