Shit. I guess I putzed around too long on here because Mak is waking. Shit. Shit. Shit. Don't get me wrong, I know that her waking up is much better than the alternative, but just another hour or so would be nice. *sigh*
Speaking of Mak, she watched her mama perform on stage last night for the first time. Yep, that's right. We hit a festival and an old band buddy was playing. Mak did some kind of chicken dance, arms flapping at her sides while her head was bobbing up and down and in and out simultaneously, while I sang. I couldn't watch her for long though because, you see, I don't look at people I know when I'm singing, especially people who hold the power of pulling me from that happy place I go to when I'm singing on stage.
Grace was in awe, I guess, while I was singing. I did my motherly duty and waved to both of the girls when they waved at me during the opening lyrics of "Me and My Bobby McGee." And then I was off, leaving the earthly plane as my eyes reached the top of some chubby chick's, who was eating a funnel cake, head. Gone. Out of there.
In fact, I was so gone and out of there that I was shocked to the point of literally staggering a step backwards when He appeared out of nowhere in front of me. My hands were still shaking from the bit of stage fright I had, so the staggering didn't help my frame of mind. I was on my way to the tree to smoke a cigarette and ground myself for just one moment when there He was. And it was that smile that caught my eyes; that smile that I will never, or hope never to, forget.
And then I made it to the rest of Him. But damn, it hurts to look at him. I mean, really. One look at him and I instantly become that fat, freckled, insecure high school girl. I have never ever ever met any one male in person who is more beautiful than Him. God, he's beautiful. And I know that I have written about him before because I can almost repeat the lines that were written verbatum.
So, instead of calling him Him and confusing people with what is, at times, a reference to God with the capitalization and all, I will call him Mr. Every Time I Look At Him I Remember Having Sex Against My Bedroom Wall While Elevated. What? Too long of a name? Too Much Information in a name? Okay, I get it. So I'll call him Mr. C.
Anyway, the thing about him is that he never starts talking to me by saying anything; it's that fucking smile. That fucking straight to my gut/take my breath away smile of his. I could stay locked in that smile for days. And I, totally caught off guard by his approach and reeling from the stage fright and the sudden crash back to earth, could only manage to squat down in front of the stroller he was pushing and ask, to the baby and not him, "So, did you name her Grace?"
And see, here's the thing. He remembered our last conversation too because he didn't have to ask how I knew; he knew I knew. I remember everything about everything about Mr. C.
So we talked kids for a minute or two. And then he was introduced to my Grace and loved her. He got her, eh, the way I do.
And the whole time Da Man is walking around, trying to get my attention. I would touch his arm or give him a flippant "yeah," much like I do when I'm involved in an adult conversation and Grace interrupts me with a "can I go for a walk with L" question. Da Man was slighted and he knew it.
As we were leaving, Da Man said to me, "So who was that guy?"
"Oh, we used to work with him at the Civic Center," I replied, trying to summarize how I, mom, and C all knew him. But Da Man saw something, he felt something...but he couldn't bring himself to ask. And for that I am glad because I don't know how I would have answered. I'm telling you, I have been hugged and kissed by men not known to Da Man out of nowhere, in the middle of grocery store aisles. And none of them, not one, has ever evoked such a suspicion from him. And one of them I had spent many years playing tag with. But he felt something with Mr. C. Shit, he realized that he was fucking beautiful.
I suppose the next time I see Mr. C I will walk around for another few days being unable to get him out of my mind. *sigh* I did go a little far, I suppose, and told him that it was by Mr. C's suggestion that I began singing at the bar with the men who would one day ask me to join their band. 
I want to go into a huge thing about how in the past few days I have seen numerous people from my band days. It's odd how it comes in waves like that. It's like the energy of the singer Amy rolls in every once in a while. I sing and see those who were a part of that life of mine.
And I also have been having thoughts about how all of this ties into The Universe's making me realize that I'm not happy with myself and need to make some changes within myself to be the chick I once was. Mr. C took me back to the happiest years of my life, and I don't believe in coincidence. However, I do believe that I should go upstairs and answer the munchkin who has called for her mama three times now.
Da Man is at drill with the National Guard this weekend, which makes it oddly quiet in my house. Grace has been camped out down here with her grandma, although the two of us ventured to Lowe's this morning for their Build To Grow thing. And we came home with a cute little wooden school locker. And you know what? I put it together right the first time *snort* and didn't nail my thumb to the wood or anything. So now I guess it's time to head back upstairs and do the mom gig. The pays not always good but the benefits are nice.