WTF-Love Lessons

"What?"

Yes, that's the word that usually defines my relationship with the hubby.  Today was just another ordinary case of WTF.  Our son was invited to a birthday party of a friend in TN, of course he wanted us to take him there, but needed us to conveniently disappear because his girlfriend was there as well.  I put the address in the GPS.

339 KELWEN PRIVATE DR  (address made up so you don't stalk the poor folks)

Off we go.

It is a nice family drive of us telling the boys to look out the window of the car at all the amazing sights of TN:

Look!  There's a guy walking by the side of the highway with no shirt and his butt crack hanging out!
Look, can you believe they fit that many cars in their front yard.
Look!  Anyone want a "meat and three" for lunch?



Along with the Look! There's Bristol Motor speedway!
Look at how soft the mountains are!

What should have been a 45 minute drive turns into an hour and a half as we turn on this lonely road climbing a mountain.

Should we be climbing a mountain?  Maybe the lake is on the other side.
Wow, that's a lot of trailers, the son says nervous.
Look at all the barbed wire fence, and big dogs, the other son says.

I'm remaining calm, thinking maybe we have to go through the drug neighborhood getting to the lake on the other wide, but the GPS says, "You have arrived at your destination."

We look at the run down mobile home, fenced with dogs barking, confederate flag, old toilet sitting in a pile of garbage in the driveway.  I check the text message again,

339 KELWENS PRIVATE DRIVE.

I look at the sign.  339 KELWEN PRIVATE DRIVE.

That's when my hubby looks at me, "Did you forget the S?"  The curtains in the mobile home move probably someone deciding if they needed the shotgun or not.

Uh.

He doesn't scream.  He quickly throws the car in reverse as one child says, "look their front door is opening" and we get out of there.  I add the "S" to the address and we are 45 minutes BEYOND where we are supposed to go.

Love means being totally pissed off with your wife's "WTF" moment, quietly driving the extra 45 minutes back to 336 KELWENS PRIVATE DRIVE.  Sure you could cut the silence with a knife, but it was better than beating on the steering wheel and yelling.

We pull in and the group of 8 14yr olds are getting ready to go out on the boat, our son looking at us like, "You can disappear now" as he jumps in the boat putting his arm around his girlfriend.  We watch the boat pull off, the hubby saying, "Well we gave him confidence, now didn't we?"

We plan on going to Abington VA, visiting a restaurant, hiking, just killing time until the birthday party is over, but our hosts have other plans.

"Oh no.  You are not leaving. We were just making cocktails." They grab for the truck keys. I don't know these people.  But a lake, a boat, and the word cocktails, hell, I'm in. Hubby looks at me, shrugs, love means just going for it and being pleasantly surprised in the end.

We relax on the dock, then when we mention we were going someplace for lunch, they do what most Southerners do, "Oh, we'll just put you in the boat and motor over to the marina."  This is said matter of fact, there is no choice, you are going to have fun whether you want to or not.

I am reminded how couples do it together as we sit and visit with people we hadn't plan on meeting when we woke that morning.

"Honey, remember we're going to that BBQ later, don't drink a lot you don't want to peak before the party."  A new word for me as I laugh, peak.  Ha ha, I thought that meant nap time. I think back to times at the Skybar when my hubby says, "Don't forget we're supposed to go to Greg's for dinner tonight."  Oh, and I might have peaked.

"He was cutting the lawn with the zero turn mower and wanted to cut LOVE in for me, but all he got was the L.  I knew what he meant."  Sweet sentiments, I still have our wedding certificate where he got my name wrong and my age because he was nervous.

Usually in our time together, I'm caught saying, "Oh crap.  Did I screw up again?"  Love means not saying, "YES!" just quietly undoing any damage done.  Usually this entails something fun in the end.

We laugh, enjoying time on the boat, the day warm but a nice breeze makes it comfortable.  Our other son is playing in all the leftover childlike fun of a house at the lake, cleaning out a tree house, hitting golf balls, jumping off the dock.

Our host pulls out a bottle of 15 year old unfiltered bourbon, my hubby whispering to me, "That's a 425 dollar bottle of bourbon."  Opens it for a taste, we're shocked.

"Friends have been giving us this every year for staying at our home during Bristol races.  Our friends come over and we can drink it in a night, didn't know it was the good stuff.  We're used to the cheap stuff."

Wife looks at hubby, "We're not going to the BBQ now are we."  She looks at me sighing, "When you are together for a long time, it is just too tiring getting irritated with the things that used to get you irritated."  Wise words, my friend, wise words.

Love is recognizing that plans change and rather than fighting it, just going for it.  We settle tasting one of the best bourbons I've ever had, enjoying the company of two strangers now friends.

The boat comes back and all the kids get into Ultimate Frisbee, I watch my son and his girlfriend sitting on the deck, talking and holding hands.  Love is those quiet times just being together.

We stay as long as we can, telling both disappointed boys it really was time to go.  My son and girlfriend walk to our car out of sight, I know is his first kiss.  I sigh.  Love is remaining calm and happy remembering your first kiss.

On our drive home, one son exhausted from playing, the other with a slight smile on his face, my hubby driving, the Super Moon appears, I think, well, today certainly did not turn out the way I expected. We learned new things about Tennessee, Google Maps, check your addresses, what a good bourbon tastes like, and witnesses our son's first kiss!  Plan B was never so exciting.

You can't write 52 shitty stories - Alonzo's story

Alonzo’s Story

Kathleen knew it was going to be a disaster.  Trying her positive reasoning on herself, she whispered,  “It will be fine.  It is just the first meeting, everyone will get over it and life will go on.”

“This too shall pass.”  She added as they crossed the street to Sullivan’s Bar.

“What did you say?”  Hearing his deep melodic voice, Kathleen lost her train of thought.

“Mmmm?” she loved looking at his curly black hair, her hand almost touching it, confirming it was as soft as it looked.  His dark brown eyes sparkled, Kathleen warning herself to not get caught up in them.

“You said something?”  Alonzo smiled at her, his even white teeth bright against his dark skin, his hand wrapped around Kathleen’s, the warmth making her cheeks turn red.

“Oh, nothing, I was just talking to myself.” They stopped in front of the bar, holding hands.  “We don’t have to go in here if you don’t want to?” Kathleen half said to herself.

Alonzo turned to his girlfriend, taking both of her hands, looking deep into her eyes.  “My Kathleen, we are here.  What would we tell your family if we invited them to drinks but we didn’t show up? I don’t think that would be a very good first impression for me?  I am trying to impress the family, you know.”  He leaned forward, kissing her on the lips, lingering for a moment, knowing exactly how to drive her distraction.

Kathleen pulled back, her fingers lightly touching her lips, he did have a talent of making her forget everything.  This time it was difficult forgetting her family, knowing they were in the bar, watching the football game, drinking beer, contemplating her new lover coming to meet them.  Poor Alonzo had so many other things against him besides his young age.  Her family was going to crucify him.  Grabbing Alonzo’s hand, Kathleen pulled him away from the front of Sullivan’s bar, into the side alley.  Pushing him up against the wall, she tried her hand at distraction, kissing him hard, molding her body against him.  Pushing aside the scenario playing out in her head as her family met Alonzo, she went with the moment, enjoying his hands as they slid around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

Alonzo abruptly ended the kiss, putting Kathleen away from him, his hands moving from her waist to her shoulders.  “You thought you could distract me.  As much as I would like to explore this more, I am going to meet your family.”

Looking at Alonzo, Kathleen sighed.  There were so many reasons they should not be together, age just one of them.  For some reason he didn’t listen to any of them, his kisses making her forget all the reasons and coming back for more.  “You know that I’ve grown up in a pretty traditional Irish Catholic family.”

Alonzo smiled, Kathleen melted.  “I am Catholic too, so there is something in common.”

Kathleen sighed, he was so optimistic.  “It’s not the Catholic thing that may bother them.”

“My mother prays the rosary every day.  They will like that we are the same religion.”  Alonzo said.

“It’s not that.  You see,” Kathleen paused, taking in his amazing tanned skin, the tight white t-shirt accentuating every muscle, not to mention different parts of his body accentuated by his tight black jeans.  He looked so dangerous, but was so sweet.  “They’ve been looking for a nice boy for me for a while.”

Kissing her lightly on the lips, Alonzo brushed a piece of hair behind her ear, “I am a nice boy.  I go to church.  I have a job.  I respect you.  What else makes a nice boy?”

Figuring she wasn’t going to add “Irish” to the list , he’d find that out soon enough, Kathleen shrugged, “Let’s go meet them, OK?” .

The inside of the bar was busy, a usual crowd for a Thursday night.  Kathleen could hear her brother’s shout immediately, damning herself for putting Alonzo in the middle of insanity.  His light touch on the small of her back warmed her cheeks as they moved through the crowd to a table in the back of the bar, close enough to the TV.  Noticing her family brought her grandmother along, Kathleen contemplating turning and running away.  Alonzo’s warm hand covered hers, she heard determination in his voice.  “It will be a nice family get together.”

Figuring she might as well get the show on the road, Kathleen pulled Alonzo over to the table, holding his hand, wondering if she was hurting him.  Everyone was in mid argument, her father and brother screaming at the TV over the ref’s call, her grandmother, mother and sister arguing how much they knew about Kathleen’s new boyfriend.

“Mom, Patty, Nana, this my boyfriend Alonzo.”  Kathleen felt like she was standing in front of a firing squad.

Everyone at the table went silent, all eyes moving from Kathleen to the handsome young Italian man standing next to her with a brilliant smile on his face.  Immediately crossing herself, Kathleen’s grandmother whispered, “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, where are all the Irish boys?”

Kathleen wanted to hiss, “Get your jaws off the table, this is embarrassing!”  She knew Alonzo was slightly younger than her, but did they have to act that ridiculous?  Turning to her boyfriend, Kathleen shrugged toward her dumbfounded family, saying, “I’m sorry.”

Ignoring her, Alonzo moved toward the table, taking Kathleen’s father, Buddy’s hand, shaking it vigorously.  “I am so glad to meet Kathleen’s family.  She tells me so many good things about you.”

“I’ll bet she does.”  Kathleen’s brother, Ned shook Alonzo’s hand next, looking down at his hand, flexing it from the Italian’s firm shake.

Turning from Buddy and Ned, Alonzo focused his attention on Kathleen’s mother, grandmother and sister.  “Oh, I see where my beautiful Kathleen gets her looks from, she looked exactly like you Mrs. Murphy.  You must be so proud.”

Kathleen’s mother, Jean, mug of beer halfway to her lips, regarded the Italian. Her eyes slowly moving down the tight white T-shirt, lingering on the black jeans, the large silver belt buckle accentuating his slim hips.  “Well, I’ll be.”  She whispered.

Molly, Kathleen’s sister just sat staring at Alonzo.  He smiled at her, making her face turn red.  Kathleen knew that reaction well, she experienced the same reaction when Alonzo first came up to her, talking to her.  She met him in the local bar she frequented with her friends every Thursday night.  It took several conversations with him before realizing he was talking to her, more meetings with friends before convincing her he wanted to be with her.  After dating for 6 months, Alonzo was ready for the next step, Kathleen still secretly unconvinced that he cared for her.  After a marathon lovemaking session, when he had her at her weakest, he got her to agree to meeting the family.  The first question her grandmother asked, confirmed Kathleen’s fears.  Could this sweet boy handle the Murphy family?

“How old are you?”

Alonzo laughed.  “Kathleen said you would ask me that.  I am 28 years old, I have traveled the world by backpack, and I absolutely adore your daughter.”

Kathleen sighed as her father’s eyes went from the TV screen to her, one eyebrow raised.  Luckily, fate intervened in her favor, the football game coming back on.  Buddy turned back to the TV, picking up his beer from the table.  “We’ve got a chance at a touchdown here, let’s hope they don’t settle for a field goal.”

Alonzo looked up to the TV screen.  “Look Kathleen, your father and I have another thing in common besides loving you, we both like sports.  I watch the real football.”

Buddy stopped, beer midway to his mouth, turning to the young Italian boy.  “Excuse me?”

Neal stood next to his Dad, “Did he just say what I think he said?”

Kathleen stepped between her boyfriend, father and brother.  “Dad, he’s from Italy.  That’s the type of football they watch.  Give him a break, OK?”

Buddy stopped for a minute, looking at the Italian.  “When you are with us, you watch the N-F-L, the best sport in the world.  Now let’s see if the Ravens can get a touchdown.”

Alonzo started to say something to Kathleen’s father, Kathleen quickly turning him toward her, “Why don’t you grab us a beer honey.  All this commotion has made me thirsty.”  Molly, Kathleen’s sister watched, leaning over to their mother.  “Man I could touch that any day.”

Alonzo smiled at the women, before leaving them for a trip to the bar. Kathleen pulled out a chair, sitting with the women of her family, she only had a few minutes to set them straight.  “Before you say anything.  He really is sweet, and nice, and….”

Molly looked back to the bar, Alonzo was leaning forward ordering, his ass visible in the tight black jeans.  “You don’t have to give me any explanation.  One look at that body and I totally understand sister.  Totally understand.”

Nana wasn’t as fazed as Molly.  “Kathleen Marie, In my younger age I was distracted by a German boy, but marrying a nice Irish boy was the best decision I ever made.  What happened to Seamus O’Reilly?  He was such a nice boy.”

Kathleen looked at her grandmother.  “Jeez Nana, that was in the 8th grade!  I’m a little older than that.”

Nana looked over to Alonzo.  “Well, he he looked like he’s in the 8th grade?”

Jean laughed.  “Honey, we are all just a little surprised.  You said you were bringing a boyfriend, you could have prepared us a little more.”

Kathleen smiled.  “I know, but then you’d all be telling me everything wrong with him.”

Molly sighed, looking back again at Alonzo’s ass.  “Oh, I can’t find anything on that list.  Not a thing.”

“I wanted you to see how sweet he was before judging him on his looks.”

Watching him walk back to the table, two beers in hand, a big smile on his face, Jean turned back to her daughter, “I am sure he is sweet.”

“Like sugar.”  Molly said, becoming quiet as Alonzo sat at the table next to Kathleen.  He leaned over touching his lips to her cheek sliding a beer in front of her.  Molly sighed.

Alonzo turned to Jean, his smile bright.  “So Kathleen tells me that you work with books.  I am hoping to become a writer one day.  I’ve traveled, now want to settle down and write!”  His enthusiasm was contagious.

Jean sighed.  “Yes, I am an editor for a local magazine.  I write a food column for them also.”

Alonzo clapped his hands together, looking at Kathleen.  “You did not tell me your mother is a chef!  That is another thing we have in common.  I love to cook.  Kathleen thinks that my recipe for meat balls is the best she’s ever tasted.”

Molly almost spit out her beer.  “Oh I am sure Kathleen loves eating your balls.”

“Molly!”

Alonzo, unaware of what transpired continued.  “I can come and make my sauce and balls for you.  We can have a special family time with it.”

Nana crossed herself again.  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph.”

Buddy came back to the conversation.  “I can’t believe they only got a field goal on that run.  They should have gone for the touch down.”  He looked Alonzo up and down.  “What do you do?”

Alonzo stood up, shaking Buddy’s hand again.  “I am a chef.  I hope to write a cook book one day.”

“He says that he has the best balls in town.”  Molly added with a wink.

“Molly!”  Kathleen felt her face heat up.  Buddy looked down at Molly.  “You need to cool it young lady.”

Molly shrugged.  “He tells me to cool it when Kathleen brings this to the table?”

“So, how long have you been dating?”  Jean asked, moving the conversation off of Alonzo’s balls.

“Six months.”

“How did you meet?”  Molly asked.

Alonzo covered Kathleen’s hand.  “Kathleen came to my restaurant for a cooking class.”

The family looked over to Kathleen, who shrugged.  Molly was the first to say what was on everyone’s mind.  “You, cook?  You can’t even boil water.”

Kathleen laughed looking over to Alonzo for real.  “I guess I got sick of eating Ramen noodles all the time.  I wanted to cook a decent meal.  I was planning on having everyone over for dinner once I figured out how to make something.”

The entire table laughed.  Alonzo frowned, looking at them.  “What do you mean?  Kathleen is talented in the kitchen.”

Nana clucked her tongue.  “I am sure she is, does she help with your balls?”

This time Buddy looked over to his mother.  “Mom, that is not appropriate.”

“Yes, we cook them together now.  She is learning very quickly.  You would think she has a little Italian in her.”  Alonzo replied with a smile.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph.” Nana crossed herself as Molly spit out her beer, Neal opened his mouth, shutting it quickly as the game came back on

Alonzo frowned.  “I am glad that Kathleen brought me to meet you.  I want you to know that I am in love with this woman.  She makes me smile every morning.  I know that she is a few years older than me.”

“A few?”  Molly asked.

“Yes, a few, but I believe in love, nothing else matters but the person you want to be with.  If that person is older then she is older.  Why do you Americans not say a word about a person that is younger than me?  I see a beautiful woman who makes me laugh, makes me feel good about myself, and yes, she may not cook but I love taking care of her.  I love hearing her sighs, I love rubbing her feet, I love reading books to her.  We may not be the same age but we are compatible.  What we are looking for is not your approval, but that you share this amazing journey of life with us.  We don’t need a blessing, we need each other.  We can watch the N-F-L, we can make meatballs and marinara sauce, we can have a beer together.  It is your choice.”

The entire table was silent staring at Alonzo, moving over to Kathleen.  She was looking at him, her eyes soft, her mouth in a silent ‘“oh.”  Looking over to her family, Kathleen simply shrugged, he’d said enough for the two of them.  All the doubt she felt about them being together vanished, she fell that instant, hook line and sinker.  She knew at that moment, looking at the promise in his eyes as he smiled at her that she was going to marry that man, have quite a few kids with him and possibly learn how to cook in her lifetime.  Everything in Kathleen’s life changed that moment.

Nana took a deep breath looking between the two of them.  “So back to your balls.”

You can't write 52 shitty stories - Ruth's Story Same Damn Bar, Different Damn Time

The bar was unusually crowded for a Tuesday night.  Ruth sat at a table in the front window, her friend Tom next to her, her other friend Donna across from her.  Her level of excitement was contagious, the three looking at untouched drinks as their eyes scanned the bar.

“What’s crazy is you know he has to be here.  I mean, the time is counting down and you are here, then he has to be here.  You are so lucky you know the time, many others just wander through life waiting for it to happen.”  Donna was slightly jealous of her friend, Ruth.  Ruth had a gift not many women received in their lifetime, a gift of knowledge.  Her gift made some of her friends jealous but it scared many others.  Around her finger, was a ring, not a wedding ring, but a ring on the wedding finger of her other hand.  A small steel band, embedded on the finger, never removed since she was born.  On the ring was a digital clock, counting down to some momentous occasion, the hours on the clock now down to 0, the minutes showing 52, the seconds showing 36.

“How can you go through life knowing?”  Donna asked, looking closely at her finger.  “I mean it would be like knowing you are going to die or something.  Doesn’t it make you nervous?”

Tom, Ruth’s best friend laughed.  “Marriage is not considered a death sentence.  In most cases.”

“I guess since, I’ve had the ring since I was born.  My grandmother said that it was a gift to me from my mother before she died. She blessed the ring to find my soulmate then put it on my finger.  The old Celtic blessing then molded the ring to my finger and the count down started.  It grew with me, the time never changing.  And now we are watching 49 minutes and 27 minutes until I meet my soulmate.  I’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment.” Ruth replied, picking up her martini, nervously taking a sip.  Looking around the bar, she bent down whispering excitedly.  “You know, he may already be here.”

Tom, slowly scanned the bar.  “Probably not, I don’t see anyone with Scumbag written on their forehead.”

Donna laughed as Ruth threw a punch at Tom.  “Today is different.  Today I meet my soulmate.  My gift tells me the time, I just hope I am in the right place.”

Tom sighed, watching her eye every available male walking through the door of the bar.  “You know if you relax, you’ll probably enjoy this process a little better.”  He lightly touched her hand, giving her some of his good energy.

Pulling her hand back quickly, Ruth gasped at Tom.  “I can’t be seen as ‘with’ you.  What if my soulmate sees that and walks out that door?”

Tom sighed again, taking his eyes from her hand, looking at his beer.  “If everything your grandmother says is true then it shouldn’t matter what I do.  He should show up anyway.”

Lightly patting Tom on the back, Donna came to her friend’s defense.  “Give the girl a break.  It’s not every day that you know your soul mate is going walking through that door.  She does.”

Tom looked between the two women.  “She’s been talking about this for 32 years, well the 15 that I’ve known her.  So if anyone knows what’s going on, we do.”

Ruth looked between her best friends.  She smiled.  “I am so glad you are here to witness this.  So many people thought I was crazy when I explained the ring to them.  So many people simply wrote me off as a nut case, tonight I prove everyone WRONG!”

Tom looked around the bar again, it was just the usual crowd.  “How is this predicting anything?  We know most of the people in this bar, and you’ve already written most of them off of your list.”
 

Donna looked around again.  “I know.  How are you supposed to find your soul mate when you’ve already dating most of the eligible bachelors here? Are you sure it is supposed to happen here?”

Ruth looked around the bar.  “I have no idea.  I could be called out into the street in any minute, meeting him there.  I could bump into him coming out of the bathroom.  I just have to wait.”  She looked down at her finger.  “41 minutes and 37 seconds.”

Tom looked at the ring again.  “I never understood all of this, honestly.  I think your grandmother was just making you bide your time.”

Ruth looked at him, surprised.  Usually he was so supportive.  “What do you mean, staying a virgin?”

Tom turned red.  “There are not many 32 year old virgins in the world today.  You have the looks, you have the body, but you’re still a virgin.  Plus you haven’t lived the life of nun.  How do you know all the other guys you dated were not your soulmate.  What will you do if one of them walks through the door.”

Ruth looked at Tom, laughing.  “My past boyfriends were dry runs before my soul mate. I dated losers, I know.  They were teaching me what I did not want. The virgin thing just seemed logical.  How could I make love to someone knowing they were not my soul mate?”  Ruth looked at Tom, “You probably will not understand, it’s like trying all these different pairs of shoes knowing that that pair sitting next to you is perfect.  Now Tom, I know you don’t like shoes, but you have tried on a few pairs before buying what you want.  What’s wrong with me having a little bit of fun.  You see, i knew I had plenty of time.  I was just trying on shoes.  Some brand names, others off brands, but they were all great shoes.  They served their purpose. I was just saving myself.”

Tom laughed.  “For the perfect pair of shoes?”

Donna laughed.  “For the only ones that won’t hurt your bunions?”

Ruth heard the door to the bar open, looking back over, appraising the man walking through, turned back to her friends, looking at her ring.  She held up her hand, “See?  I have 37 minutes and 12 seconds before meeting my soul mate.  I put a lot of effort in this.”

Watching his best friend, Tom was sad. There were so many ways he could point out that everything was all wrong, but watching her enthusiasm made him mute.  He almost hoped that she did find her soul mate, that her gift was real.  There was that small part of him that was hoping for failure.  Something deep inside him that he wasn’t touching.  “Well, you don’t have much time left as a single woman, maybe you should enjoy it while you can.”

Ruth looked down at her hand.  On her ring finger, opposite hand to the traditional ring, sat a small metal band, digital numbers ticking the seconds away.  Ruth looked down to the simple band.  “My grandmother said that the ring was my mother’s gift to me just before she died giving birth.  She touched my finger with her finger just before she died and the ring appeared.  Grandmother said that the ring grew with me, that they tried different doctors to remove it but all concluded that it was part of my body, that it could not be removed.  Grandma said it was my gift from my mother, she knew that she could not be with me as I grew up, so she left me this gift, this insider knowledge no one else gets.”

Tom looked at the ring, over the years he’d come to hate the thing, watching the way Ruth obsessed over the thing.  “But how do you know it is for your soul mate?”

Ruth looked to her friend, he was the most comfortable person in her group, sometimes he did ask the stupidest questions.  “My grandmother and mother looked it up in an ancient Irish text, they found a ring like it, and just like mine, the clock didn’t start ticking until I hit puberty.  According to the text, the gift of true love is given in the ring, that when it counts down to zero, you will have your soulmate.”

Donna took a sip of her drink.  “So that is why we’ve done all this bar hopping and shopping?”

Ruth looked around the room.  “I can trust the ring, but I can also prepare.  So I should wear something expensive and go to places where rich people frequent, making sure I marry someone with money.  I mean it does make life easier.”

Tom almost spit out his beer.  “Doesn’t that make you hypocritical?  You are changing who you are to find a mate that has money?  Shouldn’t you accept your soul mate for who he is, not hoping that he comes in a good looking package and can finance a lavish lifestyle.”  Tom wasn’t going to admit that he felt a little miffed, he made the least wage in the group but wouldn’t give up being an English teacher if someone offered him a fortune.  Until he sold his great American Novel that is.

Ruth and Donna turned to him, they hadn’t heard that energetic outburst from Tom in a while.  Ruth made sure no one in the bar was watching them with interest before she continued.  She brought her voice low.  “I am just making sure I am covering all the bases.  What if I was destined to go to those places, that my mate was there and me doing something stupid like trying out a few different rich people places brought him to me.  I’m not stooping low, I’m just making sure I’m out there.  That if he has been there waiting for his soul mate then at least I’ve walked by.”

Tom sighed.  “Well, I think that damn ring is a curse, to be honest.  It has held you back, never opening up to any man because it wasn’t time. You played with a lot of us believing the promise of the ring.  Figuring people like us weren’t right for you because the clock was ticking, and you were sure something better was coming along.  We were diversions while you waited.  What would the ring do if you decided that staying with the right guy in front of you at the wrong time rather than waiting on a promise that may not come? What will you do if it comes to zero and you are alone?”

Both women stared at Tom incredulously.  He was never so vocal about dating.  He never really dated, just simply hung out with their group of friends.  Ruth was the first one finding her voice, looking down at her ring.  “I guess we have 9 minutes and 54 seconds to find out, now don’t we.  I can go back to nice guys if my soulmate doesn’t show up.”

Donna looked to her friend.  “My only hope is that your soul mate is bringing my soul mate with him.  I’m tired of dating.”

Tom looked between his two friends.  “You two are hopeless.  Love doesn’t just come to you, you have to go out looking for it.  Your soulmate already walked by you and you didn’t even notice, waiting for someone else coming along.  Why not be proactive? Look around you.  What if you’ve know your soulmate the whole time, you were so busy with your own shit not realizing the world doesn’t work on your clock.  Life continues on just like that clock ticks away.  It is not waiting for you to feel complete, or for everything to work out.  It moves according to its own plan.”  Looking around the bar, he continued.  “Now I am going to be proactive, taking charge of my own destiny. I am in charge of my life, and I choose to live it.  I’m not waiting for someone or something to tell me to take a chance.  I’m tired of waiting.  If you want to take a chance with me, then you know where I live.”  Sitting his half empty beer on the table, Tom grabbed Ruth kissing her hard  on the lips before setting her down, walking out the door to the street.

Touching her lips lightly, her mouth in a silent “Oh,” Ruth looked at Donna.  Donna looked over to the closed door of the bar. “Damn, I had no idea.  Oh well, your soul mate is coming anyway.”

Ruth looked down at the ring on her finger, gasping for air.  She tried taking the ring off of her finger, but it wouldn’t budge.  It had changed.  The clock never reached 0-0-0, it simply reset when she wasn’t looking, in Ruth’s quick calculations she had over a year before meeting her soulmate.

Looking back at the door to the bar, Ruth thought about that kiss.  Turning to her friend, she sighed.  “Maybe this time was not meant to be.  Maybe I have to wait a little bit longer for my real soul mate.”  Looking down at the clicking clock on her finger, she muttered.  “It’s not that long.”

Donna didn’t say a word, watching at her friend.  Before saying what was on her mind and possibly ruining two friendships, she grabbed her drink.

Looking back at the door, down to her ring, the into her beer, Ruth turned to Donna.  “Or I could take charge of my life and go for what I want.  Change the time on the clock again…..”

Jumping from her chair, Ruth ran through the door of the bar, charging into the cool summer night.  She wasn’t sure which way he went, her heart reminding her you know everything about him.  He’s been there for 15 years, giving you his heart, his life, his soul.  Where did he go?”

Pausing, looking up and down the street, Ruth ran in the direction she knew he’d take.

You can't write 52 shitty short stories

I've been challenged to write a short story a week.  This week was fable.  Let me know if you think this is too cliche, or if it needs more dialog.

She died today.

It wasn’t your ordinary death, one minute she was here, the next she was, well, someplace else. She didn’t get hit by a bus, driven out of her shoes, both of them still sitting one step down from the sidewalk into the street.  Her feet still firmly planted on the Earth in her shoes,  the sun still shining in her face, the slight breeze from the bus passing blowing her hair back. 

This was a different death. It was a quick death, something most people don’t notice until it was too late.  They always say tell your loved ones how you feel before you die, how many know when they are going to die?  Is there a little voice in your head whispering, “Hey listen, you’re going to die May 24th at 6:57pm, have you talked to your family lately!”  

She never heard a voice, there was no warning.  One minute the person she knew so well existed, the next minute that person was gone.  It happened in seconds, never recovered back.  No blood, no guts, no weeping or gnashing of teeth (Looking back, she remembered people looking at her saying, “You’ve changed.”) it was quiet, it was deliberate, and it was done.

She passed quickly, without fanfare.  No one noticed, she was just a small spec in the scheme of humanity, moving quickly into oblivion.  Her death came at the hands of another, their moves calculating.  They knew exactly what inflicts the most harm, how to exit quickly, leave no trace.  Her death came from words.  Words, like a strong knife, slicing deep. quickly reaching heart.  It beat several times, slowly, wondering if it should continue, before stopping for a minute.  It was a long minute, a life changing minute before her heart started up again, completely different from 60 seconds before.

The death was not physical, it wasn’t even fantastic, it just simply happened. She was there one minute, genuinely there, then gone the next.  Someone else stood in her shoes, next to that curb, looking around with new eyes wondering, what happened? She looked exactly the same, even walking with the same sore hip flexor limp, something was different, changed.

The small child in her that believed in goodness, that believed most people mean well, died that day.  The words, spoken by someone she respected, uttered under their breath, meant for her, cut quick.  She felt every stab of the 5 words, the person whispering them not seeing the pain on her face.  Death coming quick, surprised, then calm and finally acceptance.  She had the same blue eyes, brown hair, the same smudge of dirt on her cheek, except something was different.  Her innocence died quickly, cynicism written on her face.  Her eyes full of new knowledge, and face hard as she let that small innocence child drift away in murky waters of indifference.

The person uttering those words, was never charged with a crime.  She went calmly on with her life, not realizing death happened right next to her, not feeling the subtle change in the universe making everyone else reel.  She let the words fly, without filter, telling herself that she was justified in her criticism, that her words were truth.  They were what that little girl needed to hear, the words would whip her into shape, make her aspire to be better, right?  Were her words truth to that little girl?  No, they were lies said to justify some belief, a belief that only the woman understood, a belief others had tried changing her mind, giving up.  She was closed.  If you looked at her closely, you’d see the ugliness her words etched on her face as she said them, how they affected her.  She looked smaller than the child standing next to her, even if the child’s head did come up to her breast.  She shrank even more as she whispered each word.

The death of her innocence was a sad one.  She was replaced with a cynical adult, someone taking compliments from that moment forward with a grain of salt, wondering if what the person saying was real, or just fabricated like all the other adults in her life.  That child turned into an adult traveling through life never holding a funeral for her lost child, never mourning, simply believing that life must go on, that she must go on.  As an adult, she killed a few more innocent children along her way, imitating the person who killed her, and like that woman from so long ago, not realizing her words had weight, that they could kill.  It was a snowball effect, the bodies piling up all from those 5 words spoken years ago.  The innocent child died that day, becoming who she swore she'd never emulate,she became her.

With every death in life, there is a birth, a renewal of the cycle.  This woman thought that all was dead to her, she lost that child the day she died.  She met someone new in her life, someone who made her feel good about herself.  That person did something no one had done in many years, she said something nice, frank and full of sincerity.  That small child inside of her opened her eyes, and for the first time in many years, actually believed her.

With that belief, birth came back into her life, bringing with it new life.  This was not a painful birth, like the death so long ago, it was a matter of fact birth - no fanfare, no screaming and gnashing of teeth in labor, just one minute there was a blank space, the next and idea.  This idea, born out of her long lost innocence, rediscovered.  She took that infant, marveled at how perfect it was, how beautiful, not realizing it was related to the child she left for slaughter.  She brought that idea to her breast and held it close, not sharing it with anyone. This was hers, no one would take it away from her.  With the acceptance of her new friend, and the baby of an idea, she transformed herself.  Some friends wondered if she’d finally lost her mind, dropping many of them from her life with no explanation.  Their death came at her new acceptance of herself, she had time for this baby, she wasn’t taking time for destruction.

Busy caring for that infant, nurturing it, she watched it grow until the child was almost as high as her breast.  Looking at her with those innocent eyes, waiting.  She thought about those five words heard so many years ago, looking down at the child she was filled with the urge to say them.  But she didn’t want blood on her hands, she did what someone should have done so many years ago.

She held her tongue.

And that child blossomed.  It grew taller than her, it fed her with new ideas and she blossomed.  She did things she never thought she’d do.  She let the world meet that child, become friends with her, learn from her mistakes.  In the end the girl grew into the amazing woman she wanted to be.

The woman then held the hand of the child, now grown up and went back to that moment she died.  She went back to that person who made the comment, she presented herself, together and whole and told them the story of her death, every detail complete.

That person was astounded.  She did not realize her words were heard, that they cut so deep, she’d pretty much forgotten saying them.  She looked at the woman, told her that she shouldn’t be so sensitive and continued down her same path, a little shorter in stature, but still walking with a purpose and a limp.

This time there was no blood, there was no screaming or gnashing of teeth because that little girl, grown from infant to adulthood simply looked at the woman walking away from them and laughed.  They both held hands, walking the other way, not aware of the other children following close behind.

Not Your Mother's Book On Sex

You know you want it.

Come on.

It's not hard.

Just go for it.

You'll be glad you did.

It's about sex.

Everyone needs it.

Most want it.

Only a few Gotta have it.  (The book that is!  Get your mind out of the gutter!)

This is the book that is HARD to put down.

It will make you laugh.

It will make you sigh.

It will be very stimulating.

It is something you will not forget easily.

Sort of like sex.

Available on Amazon, pick up the book by clicking HERE

If you need another reason, I have an essay in it.  "Do you Vajazzle?"

World Cancer Day - THAT club

Today is World Cancer Day, this quote came across my newsfeed.  I love it.  It is so true.

I joined a special club due to cancer, I lost both parents to the disease years ago.  I joined a club no one understands until you get your initiation, then it all becomes clear.

There is a saying about losing a child, that a parent never recovers.  Losing a parent is pretty much the same way.  The ache is always there, reminders at times making it more acute, some even making you smile.

Losing a parent, you lose a legacy.  You lose that person you could always go to.  That person you could ask questions, things like:

I'm getting older and my body does this.  Did yours?
My child is doing this, is it a family trait?
Tell my children about when I was a child, tell them that funny story.
I'm confused about what to do next, can you give me any advice?

And not be judged.

There are the words from friends, and family, but the words from parents were the only ones really soothing the soul, from that first skinned knee, to now silence.  In our club, we miss those words, meant only for us, spoken with love.

Cancer taught our family that we were stronger than we imagined.  In the short time we lived the journey, we fought together, we never let it win.  We watched it take piece after piece of the person we loved, loving more was was left in the process until we told them peacefully that "it is time."  Cancer, you may be a disease that robs in the night, you never took the soul, you never took the family, you never took the love.  We remember it.  We have the pieces they left behind, a video, a heartfelt letter, a picture, we have our memories made before cancer. And it is those memories that make us smile, even when you miss them.

Take that cancer.  You'll never win.

You can do it all - Do you really want to?

In this day and age, everyone is in such a rush.  Everything we do is done quickly, without thought or any option to savor the moment.  We are taught that multi tasking is the norm, that the nagging feeling of something left undone means you need to do more.

Why do we have to do it all?  Do we really have to embody this?  Can't we stop for a minute and think, "Do we really want to do it all?"

I used to be like that, I couldn't say no, I was always adding something to my plate, I was the queen of multi tasking.  Then I stopped and took inventory and realized:

When I was multi tasking I was doing pretty much everything just to get it done.  There was no joy, no sense of accomplishment, just determination to finish and move to the next task.

A lot of the things I was doing was to please other people, or making me look good in their eyes.

My children were getting used to me being detached, too busy to engage, I was telling myself that  being a busy mother was sign of a good mother?

Scheduling activities and adding tasks to my family made us active, but it didn't really make us happy.

Why was I so tired?  Was it the endless lists running through my mind in the middle of the night?  Or was it that I was up late finishing things?

So I decided I didn't have to do it all, actually I didn't want to do it all.

I started by removing things from my list that didn't belong there.  I wrote out all the activities, the volunteer work, the hobbies, examining each one.

"Does this bring me joy?"  What a loaded question with some.  If I found myself saying, "But they need me" and not feeling joy, then it had to go.  I found a core group of things that I found "joy" in and even though bowing out of some was difficult, the freedom and peace that came was worth the work.

I learned to give myself a break.  So what if I forgot the salad with our dinner.  No one noticed, stop beating myself up about it.  Not every meal has to be made from scratch of all organic ingredients - guess what, we are still here.  Rotisserie chicken can be your best friend.

Clearing the clutter clears the clutter from the mind.  Moving through the house one drawer at a time allows time to really ponder each item, you'll find joy in giving away what you do not use and more joy in the peace of an organized household.

I don't have to have company all the time.  I can be happy being by myself.  If I am not in the mood to meet a friend, I'm going to say it.  And if they are my friend, they will understand.

It was amazing when I removed some activities from my family's schedule.  No one complained, in fact there were a few sighs of relief, and not all of them was from me.

Sure you can do it all, but perhaps it is better to do less and do it with a full heart and a peaceful mind.  Sure we can have it all, but do we really want it?

Sometimes the best of love is messy

I may be a romantic at heart, but some of my friends have become skeptic on the definition of love.  Love doesn't always have to be pretty, sometimes it is in the messiest moments that you find true love.  What is love?

Love is that gentle touch that makes you quiver, or the gentle touch signaling they are there.
Love is watching them help a child, and not butting in.
Love is waiting anxiously to see them again.
Love is disagreeing with them, but trying to see their point.
Love is smiling when you think of them and you think of them often.
Love is standing there with the bucket when the flu hits your home.
Love is lying next to them, feeling peace they are there.
Love is waking them up anyway - because you can.
Love is being proud of showing your body to them because they make you feel beautiful.
Love is that long car ride, and not having conversation because it is needed
Love is enjoying that long silent car ride.
Love is watching someone working on something and pitching in because you want to, not because you need to.
Love is admitting you were wrong, and being forgiven.  For real.
Love is being yourself and feeling comfortable around them.
Most of all, love is loving yourself first, this helps you accomplish all of the above.

What Do You Love About Life

My 9 year old's question was the great way to start a lazy school holiday morning.

What do you love about life?

Tell me what you think, I replied back.

He looked out the window and came up with a list that impressed me.

Snow

Family

Shawnee

Mine Craft

Snow Days

Mountain Biking

God

Spongebob.

I love that his list reminded me, KISS - Keep It Simple Stupid.

So here's my list of things I love in life:

1.  2 hour delays from school

2.  Fresh snow on a crisp winter morning.

3.  Standing on top of a mountain and looking out - that feeling of being so small.

4.  A favorite song on the radio and reminds me of a special time.

5.  That feeling when I am falling in love with my characters in my writing.

6.  That feeling of gratitude that invades my soul and gives me peace.

7.  Making my friends laugh and watch their faces relax.

8.  Going for a walk and being surprised by some creature - a red tail hawk flying in front of me, a deer in the meadow.

9.  Hanging out with my family, telling stories.

10.  Life itself.

The list is short.  The list is free.  But the list is priceless.

Be reminded today that the things that are important, the things that you love in life.

Well, those things are free.

OK, except maybe the dog after my last vet bill.

Is Love An Idea

My youngest now enjoys sitting under my desk, with the heater blasting on him during our quiet time together in the mornings.  He looked over at a book I was reading and mention, "You know Mom, Creative is not  a verb, it is an adjective."  I stopped what I was writing, "Well, for this book it is."  He shrugged and continued playing as I wrote in the quiet.

"You know Mom," he said.

A small part of me was annoyed because I was mid thought and as you get older you have to hold onto any thought you can because one second of change and they are gone.  But I reminded myself that this was our time together, "Yeah?"

"Love isn't really a verb either.  I think Love is a noun.  It's an idea."

My fingers froze on the keyboard as I thought about this.  Is it an idea, and when you find this idea, what do you do with it?  Is it those ideas that come in one ear and out the other, life being too busy for you take time and let it take hold?  Am I doing that these mornings, should I stop what I am doing and sit with him?  Or is the fact of us sitting together enjoying the quiet of the morning enough?

Did my love for my husband start as an idea?  I remember the feelings when I first met him, the quickening of my heart, the always wanting to be together.  Were those just feelings or did I flesh out an idea as we built our lives together, one step at a time.

An idea is a thought or purpose as to a specific course of action.  And when we fall in love, we know that course, that we are building a life together complete with the times that are difficult.  You can be in love with idea or you can run with the idea - making it real with the hard work it takes to make things happen.

If love is an idea, ideas requires creativity.  You mind must not only be open but it must be active for love to survive.  And being in a creative moment means losing yourself to it, just like being in love requires you to lose yourself in it.

I love the idea of love.  There is so many ideas in love.
The idea to wrap your fingers around a child's hand because they quietly reached over to you.
The idea that sometimes sitting and saying nothing is better than giving any type of advice.
The idea to take a walk and cool off rather than speaking what is on your mind.
The idea to let go, say goodbye, and let them feel peace as they move on.

So if love started as an idea, it's a pretty damn good one, and one that I think we all need to carry on.

Do you think Love is a Idea?

The Club You Don't Want To Join

There's a club, that takes only special people and the initiation is not that great.  No one understands how it feels to lose a parent until they have lost a parent.  Recently a great friend joined the club, and I, being a member of that club remembers how it feels.

When you lose a parent it is like you disappear into death.  Those of us in the club understand.  We know you are changed forever, that you lose your last piece of childhood.  Losing a parent makes you feel adrift, like there is no anchor still telling you that everything will be all right.  That one person, that no matter what you do, will always love you.  We are left alone, our own childhood fades, turning into artifacts around the house - pictures on the bookshelf, a faded note written by hand.  We wish we could linger as a child, not having to take control, face the reality that life really does go on and others move forward.

Losing a parent makes you wish you had more time.  As you go through effects and houses, you see pieces of them you didn't know exist and it makes you sad you never got to sit down and ask those questions.  "Who's car were you sitting on in 1953 in this picture?  or "What position did you play when you played basketball for Villanova?"  The story of their life disappears, the only parts remaining are the parts you know from your time with them, that sinking realization that they did exist beyond being a parent, and now you'll never know.

If you know someone joining the club, here's a few pointers.

Let them be the child, let them tell you all about their Mommy or Daddy, because hearing the words as they say them, gives them peace.  They did actually exist, there is a history, and it will go on.

Accept that you are just an ear piece and be simply that, if you haven't joined the club what they really need is someone to listen, to understand the anger, the fear then the resulting sadness of loss.

Take the initiative and help with the task at hand.  There is nothing more daunting than facing a closet of clothes, a storage room full of boxes, even just an underwear drawer and learning how to let go - piece by piece.  Don't worry about flowers or casseroles, help with clearing out not just the home but the soul.

Losing a parent lets us feel our own mortality, the chain is broken and it cannot be fixed.  Before you join the club:

Pick them up when they fall.
Hold your tongue when they want to talk.
Provide the shoulder AND the ear when there is nothing else you can give.

What type of friend are you?  Have you joined the club?