grabbing my baybee when she walks past to rub that warm brown belly, skin so soft it feels like lingerie… or to cup sweet beloved cheeks hidden under that skirt. MINE! MINE!
Joy is… this fucking espresso… moony smooch smooch… where you been all my life?
Joy is… the stupid dog smile on the neurotic lil chi I got from a rescue years ago as he rolls over in the morning so his bald, pink, frecked belly can be properly rubbed … and remembering a time when this little scamp would not let a human near him.
Joy is… Gee’s sudden grin and the way her hair defies gravity in the mornings.
Joy is… babygrrl fondling her new summer clothes which are actually casual, NOT black nor velvet.
Joy is… all the perrenials I am spacing around, planning my garden for the years I hope I will have to enjoy it.
Joy is… a new kickass curving brick planter as a focal point from my deck, 3 foot high topped with a set of arched gothic-church-window-looking trellises that make the whole structure 8 foot high… very architectural. The bricks are antique and have been here since my house was built!
Joy is… knowing a guy who knows a guy. The electrician wanted $3000 to fix a scorch out in our electrical box, and then a neighbor’s friend fixed it in *5 minutes* yesterday for $75. BOOyah!
Joy is… laying in our comfy bed and sugaring all over my tiny grrl La Wheeze until she is absolutely overwhelmed with happiness and starts digging insanely in the sheets!
Joy is… the marketing materials for our company printed and ready to be stuffed into folders later today. A three-year dream reduced to zen precision on crispy white card stock.
Joy is… hearing my delicate flower snark from our bed in the other room and knowing she is stretching her pedicured Fred Flinstones like a kitty cat about now… and in a minute she will come sliding in here in flipflops with sex hair, bumbling “good morning”.
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