Metaphors? Try Metafives.

Worry.  It's like little thin wafer cookies stacked up inside me.  Delicate, light, crispy little rounds of anxiety, dread, regret and the like.  Each cookie a separate thought, stacked in a column for each object of concern and grouped according to intensity.  I drop them carefully one on top of the other making sure to keep them balanced and ordered.  The higher I stack them the more unstable the columns become, so I make sure they are pushed close together to help stabilize each other. 
Each stacked column of crispy worry is pushed up against another one to create a sort of foundation to prevent a total collapse of my infrastructure.  But as the groups grow and columns are pushed together I have less and less room to maneuver.  Pretty soon I can't even reach the ones in the center anymore for fear of breaking the ones on the perimeter.  There is no way to reach the ones on the bottom without disturbing the ones on the top.  And I can't rearrange them because I don't think I could ever get them put back in order again.  It would be total chaos.  Overwhelming.  And what if those delicate little cookies crumbled?  Could I handle it standing there treading on the crushed remains of all those anxious thoughts I've been tending to so calmly and carefully and sanely.  Could I clean up the mess?  
So I just keep stacking and pushing and leaning and propping, when all I really want to do is pour a glass of milk and eat my way through those wafer cookies of worry.





Kind of makes you hungry, doesn't it?

Rolling, Rolling, Rolling...

Another year has rolled around.  This time we call it an even 20.  Twenty years of marital bliss.  Twenty years of misunderstandings.  Twenty years of inside jokes.  Twenty years of passive aggressive moments.  Twenty years of smiles and 123's and sweeties and I loved you first's and snoring and forgetting and grumping and laughing and crying and tripping over shoes and supporting and disappointing and diving and dancing and catscatscatscatscats.  Life took a hard left turn along the way, but like we always say "It's not important as long as we're together."



123 Mister 1232!