Smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss

* All names have been changed to protect the innocent and nerdy.

The watery moon winked overhead.

The December winds played with Samantha’s loose, brown braids. Letting out a long sigh, she watched as her warm breath hung suspended in the cool sea-salt air.

As she unlocked her front door, she traced the top of her lips, remembering the kitten’s paw touch of Dave’s hand against hers.

Her first real first date.

Idling outside of her house, they had taken off their seat belts and held hands, making silent, but short lived eye contact.

Samantha hadn’t known if she was going to throw up or start crying.

When Dave placed his arm around her shoulders, she too shifted, nestling into the smooth groove of his upper chest, stealing glances at their reflection in the rear view mirror.

Samantha liked the way the olive tones of Dave’s skin stood in contrast to her own.  She had smiled when she felt him fiddle with the frayed pompom on the top of her toque.

Unfortunately, in an awkward attempt to turn up the heat, but not dislodge Samantha from her nook, Dave accidentally poked Samantha in the eye, hard, and with his elbow.

“Owww…” moaned Samantha.

Dave had shot ramrod in his seat, appalled.

“I’m sorry! Samantha, are you okay?  I’m – are you okay?”  Inching to the edge of his seat, Dave had paused, and then gingerly, reached out to try and stroke the right side of her cheek.

Samantha, trying her best to smile it off, wanted desperately to pretend that she wasn’t hurt, but instinctively shied away from his touch.

Slowly, slowly, she opened her eye.

“It’s…it’s fine. Really.” She said.

Dave shifted a little closer. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Samantha wiped away at her tears. “Yes.”

“I cannot believe I did that.” Dave rubbed at his furrow brow.

Samantha let out a timid laugh. “It’s totally okay.”

Turning to face her, this time Dave did place his hand on her cheek.

Samantha felt herself turn to stone.

For a second their faces seemed to hover next to one another.

Samantha’s cheeks burned hot, two glowing coals in the light of the dash.

Her heartbeat in her ears.

Dave inched closer.

Her breath paused, lips parted.

And then, as the car stalled, their teeth clattered together – a crack like that of a stack of pencils knocked onto a freshly swept floor.

Panicked, Samantha had quickly tried to kiss him again, but only got the peak of his nose and then the side of his chin.

“I’m sorry! I’m not very good at – ” She blurted out.

But before she could finish, Dave had placed his soft, shaking hands on either side of her face and pulling her closer, pressed his lips against hers.

Samantha pressed back.

Thinking back, as she tiptoed to the top of her staircase, Samantha realized with just a twinge of disappointment that she had completely forgotten to close her eyes.

Next time, she thought to herself.

Next time.

Down in London town, I’m dancing by myself

Hi Friends!

Well, it’s all come to pass.

We have a sparkling, new, beautiful shower, and I managed to successfully attend a concert for the first time whilst flying solo.

Kaiser Chiefs are top-notch groovemeisters, so I pretty much just showed up, danced like a mad woman for an hour and a half, and then hit the road.

Oh my god, I can't believe it.

(The four glasses of wine I consumed before heading downtown may have had something to do with how easy the whole thing seemed. I’m normally a two-glass max kind of gal, so take this as you will.)

The one thing I will say was that I was a little bummed out about the fact that they hardly played any of their new material (or really anything from their catalogue post-2008.)

I've never been this far away from home.

They have so many fab songs other that those featured on Yours Truly – Angry Mob and I had been eager for the chance to hear them live.

For instance, I was gutted that they didn’t play Man on Mars, a tune that I have been pretty much listening to on repeat for the last two weeks. Seriously, it’s the first thing that finally managed to knock The Decembrist’s Calamity Song off of my top jam list.

Ch-ch-check it:

Ricky Wilson told the audience that Vancouver was their last stop on their tour, so they were probably pretty exhausted and burnt out and didn’t want to take on anything too taxing.

But overall, I must say I had a great time period, and there is always something to be said about going to a concert where you (and every other person in attendance) knows every lyric to every song that is played.

I’d give it a solid 8 out of 10 cats.

Ju-on girl dancing her heart out!

On my way home, sitting on the metro, I was trying to concentrate on anything other than the dull ringing in my ears, when a very young man sat down next to me.

The fellow was just a little too eager to strike up a conversation, so my spidey senses immediately started tingling.

Because I am a crazy weirdo, I did what I am often do in awkward situations – make them even more awkward (this time by speaking in a really terrible accent.)

This is hilarious to me, but probably insanely disconcerting to the other parties involved.

If I could muster up the appropriate amount of compunction I would, but then I always ask myself, what’s life without a little flare? A little intrigue?

So, egging myself on, I sometimes try out mein deutsche, and other times moya ruski.

This time I was from jolly old England.

Bah.

[adjusts monocle.]

Unfortunately, the dude was totally undeterred.

Even after I told him I was seven years older than him, he still asked me out.

Youth these days, I tell ya.

Either deliver my paper on time or get off my lawn!

I will give him props for gumption and guts, but needless to say, I will not be seeing him again.

(Until my next late night train ride, goodness knows.)

The next morning, I was moving a little slower than usual, due to the after effects of my solo dance party, finishing the bathroom, and the eleven kilometre run Mr. M and I completed during the previous day’s afternoon.

I figured the best thing to cure my Sunday sluggishness, was homemade crepes with fresh fruit, nutella, walnuts, whipped cream, and tea, devoured on our porch, basking in the warmth of the (long lost, and now finally found) sun’s rays.

Yum.

Edit: for one bloody day at least! It just makes me want to yell out: Come on Biscuit you can do it!!!

Erm.

I mean spring!

Come on spring, you can do it!

But at the time, it was, for lack of a more poetic descriptor, absolute bliss.

Bliss!

Then, M and I tore about our place, vacuuming like a vacuuming things, dusting, washing, scrubbing – wiping away all the dust that had accumulated over the course of our reno, encrusted in our corners and nestled in all the often missed nooks and crannies.

Seriously, nothing is as good as clean feels.

A friend of mine remarked, after reading my post from last Friday, that I would probably pick up a ton more traffic to my blog if I posted photos of myself doing mad cleaning in my underwear.

I’m not going to lie – I briefly considered this as I tore about our place, but in the end I decided it just wasn’t worth it.

That, like my English accent, should not be encouraged.

Not without copious amounts of wine, anyway.

Isn’t that right, guvnah?