Pride and prophecy...

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Where I stayed
At the Airport

Flag of United States  , Arizona
Saturday, August 29, 2009

I admit it. I am a punk. I cried. Those big fat baby tears. My husband (probably with visions of non-stop sports on T.V., nag free days and same short wearage) just held me and told me he was proud of me for doing this.
Proud of me?


He put something on me.

He spoke with an expectation of greatness...a confidence that I will come back skilled. It felt good that he believed in me, that he supported this crazy adventure. Will I disappoint him? I sure hope not because he followed up that tender moment with some hard-a** napkins from Sbarro and the words "if you want to return to a happy betta get your Spanish on" I hear that. I am 'bout to habla that Espanol.
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