Naptime

Writing while sleep deprived may or may not be a bad idea.
 
Extreme hunger combined with sleep deprivation is doubly harsh, though one would think I’d be used to it, being a hypoglycemic insomniac.  Had to eat something, which means I now have to stay awake for a bit.  Slept four hours last night and woke up slightly bothered and crabby.  Too hot in my nightgown.  Peeled it off and crumpled it beside me and felt so much better and tried to go back to sleep.  Oliver, my big-boned blue and white british shorthair, climbed on top of my chest and slowly laid down.  Purred and rubbed me and then got up and gave me his butt.  Laid down on me backwards with it dangerously close to my face, his tail thumping the side of my head from time to time.  I turned my face the opposite way away from his tail and danger zone and tried to relax my arm and back muscles.  Kept hearing William talking loudly on the phone and gathered that his best friend Eric had to shoot a raccoon with four broken legs and that his wife Brynn had been crying all night because of it.  Hugged Oliver’s butt and tried to shut everything out to sleep.  To no avail, of course.
 
Two hours laying there attempting to lose consciousness and failing tiresomely.  Not tiresomely enough.  Time approached for my lunch with Sullivan and sweet Lisa.  Was 70 degrees this afternoon and perfectly breezy, lightly cool without being chilly.  Head was foggy while getting ready but light, positive, and beaming as soon as I stepped outside.  Pirouetted in the parking lot a few times in my richly indigo jeans that fade gradually to black at the very bottom, coralish pink and cream striped tank, and light beige peep toe wedges with fluffy flowers at the sides.  Went to lunch down the street at the rustically exteriored, clean and crisp and poshly interiored tavern.
 
Sullivan was goofy as ever but not as loud as usual.  Craziness contained to our table this time, well…to our section of the restaurant, which was empty except for us.  I hadn’t seen Lisa in almost a year.  Pretty blonde woman, sweet and good-natured, bright and sunny, pear-shaped, and in medium blue denim and a soft brown and white plaid shirt, baggy and oversized like most of her shirts, white linen scarf rolled thickly and knotted around her neck, which she untied and rested on her chair as soon as she sat down.  First time I’d ever seen her wear makeup, which I always thought would improve the look of her skin, which is a bit sun-damaged, and her ultra pale dry-looking lips.  But not the way she wore it.  Foundation a couple of shades too dark and way too much powder, light blue eyeshadow caked on too thickly, dark brown blush and a neon fuschia lip stain I could tell was supposed to be long-lasting, but was mostly faded and cracked except for the very middle.  I wanted to take her into the bathroom and use a wet cloth to wipe off the excess makeup, show her own eyes her pretty face in the mirror and tell her how to best accentuate it with more minimal cosmetics instead of covering it up like that.  I know I’m talking all sleep-deprived, but I really think if makeup is done well, a person’s inner light shines through it.  Sometimes a radiance of the soul or perhaps a quiet ferocity, a well-contained but savage sexuality, a luminous elegance, a thought-meandering breeziness, a vibrant creativity, etc.  Something within accentuated visually.  Outer beauty overlaid softly with inner beauty.  
 
Whenever I smiled at Lisa, she’d smile back even broader, and I took note of her soft and nervous mannerisms.  She shakes lightly much of the time, her shoulders and neck.  Her hands tremble more violently when she moves them.  Her eyes twitch almost constantly.  I wondered if it was nervousness and lack of self-confidence, or a very mild form of the debilitating disease her mother has always had.  Or if she simply picked up the twitches by unconsciously patterning her behavior after her mother’s while growing up.  Sullivan’s told me some pretty harsh stories of how callous and insulting her husband is to her.  I found myself secretly wanting to hold her and stroke her comfortingly throughout lunch.  So much vulnerability there.  I’ve always felt especially protective of Lisa.  But I just continue smiling often at her, and she continues to smile back.  Gave her a giant hug before parting.