rockhoppers and sand cats

as promised, this past weekend was wonderful. it's so good to be at home with someone -- even if i'm 3.5 hours away from the place i live. two weeks is too long, but i can't even begin to describe the way he looked when i got out of my car from a crazy, white knuckled journey from here to there. surreal on so many levels. so, friday night was unspeakably insanely amazing. we did nothing. we ate hot dogs (i had mine with a slice of cheese) and watched an X-file. saturday, we slumbered soundly until 2 minutes til 12. pretty late, but all still so amazing. and after all the morning pish posh, andy and i went to lincoln park zoo. free. a free freaking zoo in the middle of an awesome city, smack dab in the most calendar-esque day thus far in early autumn. this zoo isn't like other zoos either, if i do say so myself. they had animals there that i have never even thought could exist, let alone DO exist. andy's favorite was the sand cat. cute cute cute little kitty's with big furry coats to protect against the desert and smushed faces and big ears. the exhibit that stole my heart, however, was the arctic house. penguins. we watched the little torpedos do their gally-vanting in and out of the water. he and i spent a good 2.5-3hrs there and proceeded to a little place in evanston, with jake, recommended by jake, called Dave's Italian Kitchen... SO GOOD. lasagna con amore. try it.
after we get home and all settles, it hits me. leaving. i hate that more than anything fathomable. he and i stayed up late -- resting in the comfortable presence of the other... and then crying. somewhere between the penguins and the last, late evening, when i cried and he cried and together we wept -- somewhere in that vicinity -- i have never loved more. that's what i like about him, about this thing we're in together... when i least expect it, i realize that i would be miserable without this other person -- that although i think i love him so much, days like saturday make me aware that it grows always.. never stagnant. and so, after we moved the futon mattress to the floor, we just were next to one another -- him and me. the hustle and bustle never ceased out his window. the orange streetlight somehow peered in through the blinds making a giant 4 on the opposite wall... voices bounced off buildings... and there he and i were, in chicago, but JUST with the other.