Offering all the love I could give to my youthful god-son, I put down my notepad, threw aside my pen and shifted my cell phone......
After a few moments of quality loving, I stood up only to discover that in all of this love, I had seriously unloved the softest treasure I had worn all day.
Big, huge, uninvited, black ink marks all over my powder blue cashmere! Though my friend dear, over the phone she could not offer any of her 5-month old motherly advice. God-son's mother asked her mother who told me to call my mother. With all these 'mothers' going around... off went my favorite cashmere and on went a frown.... as I screamed, "My cashmere, my favorite cashmere!!!"
I guess that's what love looks like. Love, we offer it at the risk of dirtying 'our prized cashmere'. Frankly, I don't know if I am willing to dirty any more cashmere.... no, as for now, the pricey commodity of fragile cashmere will not be put at risk for tarnishing, I am currently in protective plastic... figuratively speaking, of course. After all, shouldn't we be saving the real cashmere for the real deal?
Will I be meeting the real deal later this week? It may be a risk worth wearing plastic, he did type 'WORD!' to which I didn't know in my right mind how to respond.... 'The Girls' all decided he was trying to be a cleaver little thing.... a cleaver little thing who will have to accept plastic for now.
Does anyone know where the nearest Cashmere Crisis Center is, my view on love and my cashmere halter have been 'inked' and in need of a good cleansing scrub.
