He’s a Viking

My mentor, Kelly Notaras, (ok, she’s not my mentor, but I’m just going to pretend because it sounds fancier and because I took her writing class and bought her book and she’s fabulous), says it’s not a writing practice if you’re not writing. So, for today, because it’s been a good, long, full day, I’m just going to write about something light. Just for fun. Just for practice.

I’m going to do this post, and likely a series of other posts, as stream of consciousness style so that I can just let the thoughts flow and practice writing.

My husband swears he was a Viking in another life. Well, actually, sometimes he also says he’s a viking in this life. He is not Vikingly in stature. In fact he is short, dark and handsome. But still, he likes to tell new people that we’ve only just met that he’s half Mexican and half Scandinavian. He loves to joke like this and I always make it obvious that he’s joking because I can’t help but laugh. Though I have to wonder now if this is a relief for people who feel like they can’t exclaim, “Really?!” in great surprise, out of politeness and yet that is exactly what they would love to do.

It’s ok because I’m pretty sure I was Jamaican in some other lifetime, at least that’s the way I would have it. I would be jammin’ with Bob Marley, or at least with my friends at his concerts while we sit on the beach banging tambourines or smoking pot. I definitely lived somewhere hot and in the sunshine, none of this cold winter weather!

How many lifetimes have I lived? How many more will I live? Is there ever a home-coming time when I finally get to just enjoy my graduation?

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