drinks?

I was going to write about pretty and pink and how if james spader and andrew mccarthy somehow melded together with a dash of duckie, they might be the perfect guy. i was going to tell you the argument godmother and i got into about it. she wouldn't hear of it! but i'm in love! i said. i'm in love! she shook her head and walked out into the garden mumbling about how if dear father were alive (my most loved godfather) he'd talk some sense into my ambling sentimental heart. and it's true i might be a bit on the tenuous side lately. as we were watching collegiate cheerleading championships in daytona- godmother said, that is beautiful (referring to a jump) and i actually teared up and said, yes it is. i'm not sure what i found to be beautiful- humanity, the sparkly outfits or maybe the word. maybe the word beautiful is a perfect incapsulation of itself. but that's not what i was going to tell you about...

back to drinks... i can't seem to keep them in my hand. i'm always knocking glasses out of my hand. they slip, i hit the door jamb- ice cubes and drink go gushing everywhere with a splash and a tumble. i knock them over with a spastic hand or a turn of the wrist. they simply fall. and not a week goes by that it doesn't happen. thankfully most of the glasses aren't of the breakable kind. i'm not sure why i can't hold water or why i can't seem to... i wonder. if perhaps something horrible somewhere, at sometime, happened and i'm just close to replicating a moment in time, but for the accidental. or the purposeful drop of the hand.