My daughter just texted me and asked me what languorous means. I could tell by the root, etc., the gist of it, but since I was on the interweb I looked it up.
“Languorous refers to a certain kind of mood everyone gets in sometimes — when you’d rather lie around thinking than doing work or having fun. When you’re languorous, you’re tired and maybe a little depressed.”
That’s me! That describes…
my whole aesthetic for…
my whole life.
Except for maybe not my WHOLE life, and I say that because before my daughter texed me, I had a conversation with a co-worker. She pointed out how brave I have been. I told her I didn’t ever, even once, describe myself as brave.
She pointed out a lot of stuff that seemed pretty brave.
If I saw me from the vantage point of not being me, I would have to agree with her.
And, she should know. She’s busted some brave moves herself.
I’ll give you an example from me: I got off the floor and found, and moved into, an apartment I LOVE, that doesn’t remind me of the past 19 months of pain, and is a refuge for me and my kids when they come around.
Her: She was so shy (and/or whatever’s going on inside her) that she hadn’t eaten in public in about 15 years, I think. She broke that streak this summer to go to her son’s wedding. She ate there.
Kids…they get their moms off their languorous asses!
This is a picture my daughter took. Isn’t it beautiful? She really has an eye, I think.