That’s like ‘bereft,’ but with less syllables and more f’s. Which makes it more powerful, obviously.
Also- the iPhone and I are having words about things that are not actually words. (“Beets? Beef?” “No- brefft.” “But that’s not real!” “I know.” “IT HAS TO BE A REAL WORD.”)
Anyway, back to brefft. ‘Cause I am. Last night, in the swelty Chicago heat, as I showered off the near 12 hours of planes, trains and automobiles- and then stepped into a pile of cat yuke- I wondered where my cool ocean breeze went. Or my sun-kissed skin. (Sun-kissed. Not attic-fried.) Where were the hordes of adults to watch my baby as I wrote/swam/napped on the couch?
Pretty sure breakfast is supposed to be included here as well. Where are my parents? Where is the food parade? Where is my bacon?!
And what about this view? Quite certain I signed up for three separate windows facing low tide. There are no car alarms in low tide. Nor are there pumpkin vines threatening the very foundation of the house in low tide. This is the worst ocean ever!
My daughter is thrilled to be back in her cozy bed- as opposed to a pack n’ play closet wonderland- but she’s only ten months old. Her sense of j’accusity is not as fully refined as mine.
Speaking of NJ, her tenth month was celebrated in a variety of towns- while she was mostly facing the wrong way. Those seatbelt laws are the meanest. This trip also coincided with the day that she decided to sleep the least sleep, ever. Ever ever. She had a decent chance of falling asleep on the flight back to Chicago- until the onboard computer decided to die. Then we had to swap planes- or, rather, sit in a new boarding gate until something happened.
Some said a plane was coming from Baltimore. Other attendants said nothing at all. My favorite of the bunch waited until we were back on a plane and Nora had dozed off on Peej’s shoulder- and that’s when they decided to have a loud convo over Nora’s head. For a good fifteen minutes. Three of them. Loudly. About how FUN their gay coworker was. (Isn’t he FUN? He always makes me laugh. SO MUCH FUN.) They had the whole plane on which to not work. The only way they could have been closer to her eardrum is if they had been braiding P.J.’s hair. And not that having a baby means that everyone has to be quiet- which, uh, it does- but you know that if Nora had stayed awake and was a cranky hot mess, they’d be the first to Evil Eye us and apologize to other passengers.
And we couldn’t say anything. ‘Cause, you know, Jet Blue and all.
That said, we’re home. Safe n’ sound. Nora’s beside herself with recognition/joy at all of her possessions. And now we’re off to work.
The dust bunnies (cat bunnies?) will have to wait. As will the unpacking. And foodstuffs. Also- the nap. And the floaties in the ocean.
And my Pimm’s shandy.
Although, with one trip to the corner store and a well-placed travel mug…Mama can keep this vacay going until at least Thanksgiving.
Then we switch to cider.
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