Songs We Made Love To, or, Would Someone Please Shoot Out the Speakers?

Dear John,

 

It's been a big day. I got up early and called the State Revenue people, and a nice lady set up an 18-month plan for me - $100 a month, with $400 down - and took off almost $1000 in penalties and interest. I didn't ask for that, because it's my debt and I owe it. But I'm grateful.

 

I went to Fort Wayne today to return two items from Chico's. I went to Christopher & Banks and spent the money I got back, and got a skirt, two cardigans, a jacket, and two tops. And it's much more my style. Teal and burgundy are big this year, so I'm happy. I didn't find anything at Charming Charlie, finally got the Nantucket Briar perfume that I've wanted for a year and a half at The Rustic Hutch, and ate at Chipotle.

 

It's a little sentimental going to Christopher & Banks because we went together so often. But they need to get worse music. I got a bit choked up in the dressing room when I heard Don Henley sing, "I'm learning to live without you now, but I miss you." And if that wasn't enough, the next song was "Leather & Lace." It came out when we lived in Springfield, and I remember that we made love to it. I still love it, but it makes me cry - I'm glad I was in the dressing room when I heard it. The only other song that I remember we made love to is "Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands," and I don't expect to hear that over anybody's speaker system.

 

I don't miss sex as such - I miss you. I enjoyed sex with you because I loved you, not the other way around. And when your CHF got worse and it wasn't possible anymore, that was not a problem. There are things much more intimate than sex, like cuddling up in bed at night and discussing theology. That I couldn't have lived without!

 

I enjoyed the drive to Fort Wayne and back. The leaves are turning and most of the harvest is in. It was sunny and 70 - a beautiful day. I had Clapton's Unplugged CD on. You said you would pay to listen to Emma Thompson read the phonebook. I'd pay to hear Chuck Lavelle play the piano. I kept playing "Alberta" over and over.

 

Which makes me think: If you run into your Aunt Alberta, you should play the song for her. She'd get a laugh out of it. It's rather like me buying the 45 of "Maggie Mae" for Mama, when the people at Greenville General started calling her that. After hearing the song, she laughed and told them she appreciated the compliment.

 

I need to get all of us off to bed. Go listen to some Fleetwood Mac and think about me.

 

Love you forever,

Joan.