Everything I Touch

Here's the next installment of the story. As for Baby Grouchie, I'm going to try to keep him from doing the infamous "crotch" shot that so many celebrities seem to provide the press. He should know better by now!

I met Lori right after I fell out of a tree. I had climbed up that tree hoping to see my ex-wife and her new boyfriend. We'd been divorced for a couple of months, and she'd taken up with the high school football coach twice her age. I had hated him when I played for him my junior and senior year of high school and hated him all the more when I realized he was fucking the woman I still thought of as my wife. The upshot of this sorry tale is that my ex married said asshole, and I fell out of the tree that night without seeing anything and tore the shit out of my kneecap. The next day Imet Lori and endeared her to me with my crutches and bruises. There's very little more appealing to a woman than a man that's been injured. Lori looked like a young Sissy Spacek in Badlands, someone beautiful and damaged. Unfortunately, she seemed a lot more damaged than she really was and ended up being the competent one in the couple, a role she relished and resented.

Right before she kicked me out, she got real upset and said, Everything I touch turns to shit and I'm tired of living around things that are fucked up. I said, That doesn't leave much, does it? And she looked at me with a hate that equalled all the love that had come before it. I knew that it was time to get the wading boots out because a shitstorm was on the horizon and it wasn't going to end for along time.

Michelle's Spell of the Day
"Valor is stability, not of legs and arms, but of courage and the soul." ~Michel de Montaigne

Cocktail Hour
Drinking memoir suggestion: The God I Love Joni Earekson Tada

Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Monday!