Valentine’s Day. The day for lovers, right? Romance, flowers, whatnot…
Yeah, maybe.
But that’s not my most memorable Valentine’s Day.
Don’t get me wrong, there were elements of those things in that day, but that’s not the BIG MOMENT.
My day?
It was supposed to be my day off, but I had to finish making a schedule (and hubby was working anyway) so I stopped in to work for a few hours. I didn’t stay long; was out by noon. No sooner had I left that my office was calling again. Turned out Edible Arrangements had been there and delivered a gift from my guy.
GREAT start to my Day, right? I headed home to start cooking hubby his favorite Filipino dishes…chicken adobo (adobong manok), fried rice, and broccoli.
Hubby walked in to a great smelling house and a hot, tasty meal… There were probably gifts, but I can’t remember now. What I do remember is that he loved the meal, that I went to bed early as I had an early work day & a 14 hour shift the next day….
Right about now you’re scratching your head and wondering what is so memorable, right?
Well, I hadn’t gotten there yet.
Sometime after 11 pm, hubby came in and woke me up. Said he was having pretty severe abdominal pain and wanted to make sure I was ok. Apparently, he was worried it might have been food poisoning except I’d been sleeping like a baby. So then he narrowed the pain to his lower right side.
Googling his symptoms, I realized it could be his appendix. He was scared, but also worried about me and work. So I talked him into going to the ER alone, making him promise to call me if it turned out to be anything serious. At about 1:30 am, I got the call. He sounded a little terrified.
Him: Lovey, they told me I have a necrotic appendix.
Me: Oh no!
Him: Can you come here? They told me I need surgery. I tried to ask if they could write me a prescription to slow it down in the meantime so I could call a doctor and schedule it.
Me: (choking back a chuckle) Yeah. Pretty sure that’s not gonna happen.
Him: Nope, but it was worth a shot. They told me they didn’t think I understood. The ambulance is on the way now to take me to surgery. Can you come, please?
Me: I’m on my way.
Him: I can’t believe you poisoned me for Valentines Day.
Me: I did not. And stop saying that or there may be people who believe you or at least start to wonder. I’m on my way.
And that’s how I found myself in the emergency room on the 15th, calling out from my job, calling friends to walk my dogs during the day, and headed for the hospital to be with my husband.
So, yeah, my most Memorable Moment had everything to do with the ‘For Better or Worse, In Sickness and in Health’ part of our vows. Those moments mean more than any random superficial stereotypes. And that he hadn’t lost his sense of humor, even through his fear and pain? That just shows I married a badass.
So tell me about your most memorable Valentine’s Day. Did it embody any part of the wedding vow? Or are you an non-believer, feeling this only lines Hallmark’s pockets with gold?
It’s been raining every day here for about a month. Am I looking for sympathy? No. I’m just saying that it’s been one of the rainiest Florida summers I’ve seen in a long time, which means I haven’t been able to play in my pool or work on my tan. Today, the sun finally peeked out. There were a few drizzly moments, but even then the sun shown…. Who enjoyed it?
My Drink By The Pool
Moi, of course! Nothing like a cool beverage, my own pool and privacy…and some good reading. What was I reading? Why the wonderful Lissa Matthews’ book Trouble In The Making, of course! Hey, hot rock star, tattoos, leather… what’s not to like? And of course it was on the racy side. I’ll be doing a sexy review tellin’ ya’ll just why I liked it, too… Just not today. 😉
Isabella
So what do I look like now that I’ve turned 40? Exactly the same, of course! Strange how 40 sounded so old when I was 20…and now I wonder what the fuss was all about. I still feel like a wild and crazy twenty-something. Age ain’t nothing but a number…unless you choose to make it something more.
I don’t feel 40…Or look it. 😉
So what about you guys? How did you spend your day today? Was there an age that freaked you out when you were younger? Who do you love to read when hanging by the pool or at the beach? What genre?
Patrick Thomas from the first episode of The Voice does an amazing cover of Rodney Atkins’ song, “Invisibly Shaken”. The song resonates with me, and I really love Patrick’s pared down version.
What do you do when the your foundation gets shaken? Sometimes it may be a relationship, like in the song. Sometimes it can be a crisis of faith. Maybe it’s not your faith being tested, but your sense of belonging. Maybe it’s a loss or upheaval in your family. Regardless of the circumstances, we all have those times where our internal strength gets tested.
“God will not test you beyond what you can bear.” That’s the promise God gives us on 1 Corinthians 10:13. But there are moments, aren’t there? Moments when you wonder if that’s really true? For some people it can be an untimely or unexplainable loss that brings on the crisis. Cancer, accidents, violence…things that happen way too often. Or maybe it’s just an incongruity.
Have you ever walked into a church, heard a message…maybe through the preacher or through the songs and hymns being sung…but the message sent by the behavior of the members, or even the minister didn’t match? Were you that person who felt unwelcome? Unaccepted? Unloved? Unimportant…even in God’s house?
It’s a challenge, isn’t it? To hold on to what you know is right and good and faithful when everything around you is shaking and crumbling? I often wonder if this is how my sister-in-law felt when she was told that her only son, my nephew, had committed suicide. I knew it destroyed my husband, though he wasn’t my husband yet. It was also his first close, personal experience with loss. I know so many of us asked the questions that Blaine Larsen asks in this next song.
Sadly, often when we ask those questions, all we come up with are more questions. Many either question God as to “why?” or even “where were you?” or “How could you let this happen?” Everyone’s ability to cope is different. The pressure point can vary from person to person. No matter how strong a person is, there IS a breaking point. What I’ve learned through life is that we were NOT meant to live it alone. God sent us each other to push through till times get better. Things that may not seem like much to you can be the thing someone uses to hold on and pull through. Oddly enough, it was my experiences with my brother that prepared me to help him and his family during their time of grief.
I was 15 when my brother died. I’ve talked about him before, so some of you even know the circumstances surrounding his death. I was a freshman in high school. Moved to a private church school, I didn’t feel very welcome. Most of these kids had been together since kindergarten, and I was the new girl in.
No one made it easy for me. In fact, girls being what they are at that age, all but two of them had decided they hated me on site. The one had grown up with me, and had been one of my closest church friends in our younger years. The other found out I grew up like a sister to the boy she had a crush on and hoped that being nice to me might get her a date with him. The guys? At first they were very welcoming, excited to have “fresh meat” in the classroom. It all changed when they realized I wasn’t really interested in dating. My brother had just died, we’d moved neighborhoods, moved schools….been taken away from everything that was familiar to us. Dating was the last thing on my mind! Coping was the best I could hope for.
Something happened about a month into my stay at this school that changed everything. School had just gotten out and an impromptu softball game had broken out at the baseball field across from the school. Fingers wrapped in the fencing, head tipped up to enjoy the sunshine, I stood, enjoying the last of our Indian summer day when I heard footsteps approach.
Turning, I saw an underclassman friend from church. I smiled, “Hey! How are you?”
Hoisting his foot up to rest it in a fence rung, he nodded. “Doing ok. I hear you’re really popular, though.”
Confused, I turned to face him completely. “Popular? Me? I hardly do anything.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard,” he said, tone sympathetic. “I’ve heard you’ve had a new boyfriend practically every week. I just thought you should know.”
Suddenly, I wanted to throw up. “It’s not true.”
“I know that.” He shuffled his feet. “The damage has been done though.”
Nodding, I headed for the bleachers and grabbed my books. “Thanks for the heads up.”
Without any effort on my part, I’d become the school slut. While I’m grateful to my friend for warning me, any sense of welcome I might have felt from the few people who faked their friendship to me was gone. Dried up with a few pointed words.
I didn’t want to go back. Part of me wanted to lash out. It was all so unfair, but what could I really do? I couldn’t tell my mom. She was going through enough! This was her second son she’d lost. No parent should have to go through that. I didn’t want to burden my little sister, though I was pretty sure she had been hearing the rumors about me too, by then.
If there’s one thing I have in spades, it’s pride. I would notever give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry. So the next day I walked in to school, determined not to show any sign of weakness.
God has funny ways of giving us gifts in the midst of these painful times, though…if we just look for them. Mine came in the form of a boy, two years younger than me. I’d met him on registration day, but he was shy, so I spent more time talking to his older brother. This day was different. He walked right up to me.
With a bashful dip of his head, hazel eyes looked up at me through a fringe of thick, dark lashes, “Hey.”
Surprised, I smiled. “Hey, you!”
He reached out for my hand, sliding something small in it. “I just wanted you to have this. It’s nothing much.”
Looking down, I realized he’d given me a class picture of himself. By the time I brought my eyes up to say something, he was gone. I lifted the picture to look more closely. Flipping it over I found this message: “If you’re missing your little brother, and you need one, I’m here.”
Even at that age I was floored. What a kind and generous offer to make someone you barely knew. Still determined not to let anyone see my tears for fear it would be interpreted as a sign of weakness, I calmly walked into the girls washroom, entered a stall, locked the door and sat on the toilet. In that safe place I let tears of gratitude flow at his compassion.
In two days I felt like I cried a million tears…some filled with pain and anguish, while others were of gratitude, healing and catharsis. Looking back, I think it was these days that cemented the importance of tears for me. It’s always found a way into my poetry. For me, I realized that without the bitter tears, I probably wouldn’t have appreciated the sweet ones.
Since those days I’ve realized something about God’s promise and me. When those hit come and drop me to my knees, there’s a reason. First, he wants to remind me to call on him, to lean on him. Second, he rarely answers with the loud roar we seem to expect. Instead, he answers with a soft whisper, sometimes carried on a gentle breeze, other times through a simple gesture from a friend.
Our problem is that we’re so busy looking for the roar, we completely miss the whisper. Then we turn to him and blame. How much easier would it be if we just asked for his help instead of demanding it? More than that, how often have we been the mean, catty person? How often do our words have barbs, designed to cut and hurt someone while we excuse our own behavior because of some slight (real or imagined) that they’ve committed against you? How do we know that these people haven’t been sent there to teach us lessons in kindness or patience or tolerance? Those kinds of responses are easy. Taking the high road when you have no reason to? That’s hard, but you never know when your simple kindness may change someone’s life.
The little Shiba Inu is my puppy. Her name is Ryka. I sometimes call her Hell Spawn. Her big Pitbull friend is named Seven…as in Battlestar Galactica. He’s a really sweet guy, and both my girls consider him a friend.
Here is a picture of all three of them frolicking by my pool after their morning walk. My girls, though they love the outdoors, hate the water. My best friend’s boy doesn’t have the same problem much to their consternation and concern.
In fact, my little one came to check on Seven once he was done with his swim…just to make sure the evil water hadn’t poisoned him or made him sick.
It’s funny… Pitbulls fall under the “aggressive dog” category, unfair though it is. There are actually people out there who think these loveably large oafs are born vicious. What a crock!
Here’s what I’ve noticed. Some of the most naturally aggressive dogs I’ve met have been the “dress-me-up-and-put-me-in-a-purse” variety. It’s as though they suffer from little big man syndrome. The thing is, the damage their bites can do are pretty minimal. Size of mouth correlates with damage of bite, so it stands to reason that a bite from a Pitbull can cause serious damage.
Really, though, it’s owners who ultimately dictate the behavior of the dogs. Vicious animals are usually trained to be that way. Sadly, when dogs act out or misbehave, rarely do these same owners take responsibility for their own action. Why are they surprised when the dogs act the way they taught them?
Yup! Seven sure looks mean and dangerous to me! Are you an animal lover? What do you guys think about “aggressive” dogs?
So proud of my oldest dog, Isabella. She actually went on her morning constitutional today with us, sans leash. She did awesome! Walked the entire block without veering off or getting distracted. If you know anything about Shiba Inu’s, you know that’s a pretty impressive feat, especially without having gone to obedience school.
Hey ya’ll! Just wanted to pop on to say thanks for keeping me company and keeping my spirits up while I was away. I am officially home, safe and sound. It’s been a long day, but utterly normal. Murphy chose not to make an appearance this time. How was your day?
I’m gonna spend the rest of the evening enjoying my family. Thanks again for your support… I’ll be back to posting on the morrow…
My Christmas miracle has arrived! I got the call today…I’ll be headed back home to be with my family this Monday morning. My time in El Paso is coming to an end.
As my time is coming to an end, I reflect. I’ve learned that here every fast food restaurant has jalapeños available & salsa packets upon request. It is also used in just about every meal imaginable…and Salsa is always offered for your eggs.
Today, for the first time I had food from a place called Chicos. They had these tacos with shredded cheese that you eat in this thin tomato soup like concoction. It wasn’t bad.
My favorite place to eat since coming here, though? Cattle Baron Their food was fantastic! I really enjoyed their Prime Rib…and their salad bar was quite impressive.
I stayed at the Marriott near the airport. They have an amazing Oriental Chicken Salad with a mandarin orange salad dressing. The people in their Concierge lounge are amazing, as are the folks down at their restaurant for breakfast. I’ve made some buddies & I’ll miss our little chats. They have been so warm and welcoming.
I’ve come to love these mountains…and will be sad to see them fade away in the distance…but will be so happy to be with my family and friends again. I’ve missed them!
Plus, this time of year brings out the goofy in my buddies, so I can’t wait to see what hijinx ensue this year… Take a look at some of these from Christmases past…
This is my best friend in her festive silliness….
This is my buddy, Nick…about to do his rendition of “The Lollipop King” for our entertainment.
And this is my mom & sis…who are always at the ready to lend their voices for any random carrolling spree that may break out.
As the song goes…”I’ll Be Home For Christmas”.
Anyone else have any news that has helped to make “your days be merry and bright”? Or if you’re struggling with this holiday season…feel free to share that, too!
I have a pet peeve. Actually, I have several…but today I’m going to bring up just one. Yesterday, in my social networking feed a post…or maybe it was an article…came through basically talking about this poor woman who’d been diagnosed with breast cancer. As you guys know from prior posts…cancer once again, recently hit my family. We lost a family member. I am completely sympathetic to this woman and her battle.
What set me off? The post read something like this “poor woman just had a baby, then was diagnosed with breast cancer…how tragic.” Really? Having a child is what makes this tragic? Because what that statement intimated to me was that if you don’t have children, then cancer isn’t nearly as tragic or devastating to you. Let me count the ways that this rubbed me wrong. First, I have a friend who developed bladder cancer as a small child. Treatments included issues with bodily function control..and did permanent damage to her reproductive organs, guaranteeing she will never have a child biologically speaking. And she still has health issues…not to mention is devastated every time she hears about someone else having a child…not because she begrudges them the joy. She doesn’t. She just wishes she could experience those joys for herself.
Another friend was unlucky enough to have inherited the BRCA gene which gives her an 87% chance of getting breast cancer and/or uterine cancer. This means that she is in the process of removing everything that makes her female as a preventative measure. Her sister also has this gene….but has children. So somehow this is so much more tragic for her sister. Really? This may sound a tad insensitive, but at least should something happen, her sister has a legacy she’ll be able to leave behind…not that you ever WANT to leave them behind.
I have another friend who had breast cancer, fought it, beat it…then developed uterine issues that concerned her oncologist enough to recommend a complete hysterectomy. Immediately. She’d been a career woman up to this point, not in any rush to have children…thinking she’d have time to find the right man first. The opportunity taken. By cancer.
And then there are the men…who also can be diagnosed and die of cancer…do they get less sympathy or empathy simply because they’re not able to give birth?
Ya’ll get the point. The thing is, I doubt that this is how the person posting meant to come across…but words are like that.
Unfortunately this isn’t the only time I’ve seen red over people with/without children. Please, don’t misunderstand… I LOVE kids. I adore great parents. I think it’s the best gift you could give both to your child and the world. (I was blessed with an amazing mom who is still my role model…no comment on dad.)
So you can imagine my shock and anger when on a conversation over the phone with a fairly new friend he tells me, “You will never truly understand or appreciate God’s love or grace until I have a child.” Really? Now most of you have already caught on to the fact that I’m a pretty controlled person…to a fault.
On that day my facade cracked. I believe my first (and most honest) response went something like this. “That’s asinine. Did you just hear what you said? Are you stupid?” And believe it or not, his comment hurt me so much that I was in tears. Because I understand only too well what a sinner I am…and I have read the Medical Description Of His Crucifiction. That kind of love outdoes even the sacrifices my mom made for me. I did not have to produce offspring to know or understand.
Honestly, that was also the beginning of the end to our friendship. Because as he explained his point of view, he just dug a deeper hole for himself, disqualifying everything because he was a parent. Because children make every person suddenly a good parent, right? (Infuse sarcasm here).
If only…
This also calls to mind a horrifically tragic situation that happened one day when I was working in the emergency. A family brought their 18 month old into the emergency room for lethargy and failure to thrive. They had no sooner got him into the back when he went into respiratory distress. The nurses lined up and took turns performing CPR, hoping to stabilize him while they did tests. It turned out he had a large tumor in his brain. His family was fundamentalist and didn’t believe in modern medicine except in emergent situations, so he hadn’t had any tests or doctors visits prior to this one. Unfortunately, the little guy didn’t make it.
As I sat there, hurting for this family…not wishing that kind of loss on anyone, I heard a family member say, “at least you have the other kids.” Like that negates the loss or care or heartache somehow? All I could think in my head was “Shut UP!” What kind of comfort was that?
See what I mean? Words! Whether intentional or not…they can have seriously damaging effects! Choosing them wisely can sometimes be the biggest gift you can give a person. They can also be the reason for ending things. I’ve occasionally been the person to choose words unwisely, but I try to be careful. I try to consider how my words might impact the people I love. But, I’m not perfect.
What statements or words have you heard that have set you off? Or cut you to the quick? What are your pet peeves?
I have been burning my candle at both ends lately. Tonight is my first night back to my hotel room at a reasonable hour. It has been an insanely busy few days. We were going to open Thanksgiving night, but there was too much prep work to be done. My work day for Black Friday went from 7pm on Thanksgiving till about 10:45 am. I returned back to work at 6pm to close. We left the store around 10:30 or so & got back to the hotel around midnight after a stop to Walmart.
Tonight we left around 7pm & went to dinner. We sat at the bar where we talked sports and life and love with our very cool bartender. While discussing relationships he’d mentioned the value of being humble. For the benefit of being thankful for what you have without putting on airs or false pretenses.
His story? A couple of years ago he went to a bar in a bigger city with some friends. There was a beautiful woman sitting at the bar, so he thought he’d say hello. He walked up to her & here’s what happened.
Bartender: Hi there!
Girl: (looks over haughtily) Make and model of your car?
Bartender: (looks at her in disbelief, then sarcasm) 1978 Pinto
Girl…turns away.
Really? How utterly pretentious and superficial! Unreal. All she cared about was money. She deserved the lying response he concocted after her disrespect. It may explain why he told me he was glad to have found an amazing person… Don’t get me wrong. There is absolutely nothing wrong with wanting financial security or maybe an equal partner, but any number of things… But not like that! No wonder he said he wasn’t interested in “rookie camp”.
So tell me, folks, have you ever refused talking to someone based on something superficial? If so, tell, tell! When meeting someone new, what things have intrigued you enough to give a stranger a chance in the past? What things have you heard people verbally or theoretically snoop into at bars or clubs or restaurants that could be found offensive by the recipient? What things do you think are important to a relationship?
The area is beautiful out here! When I drive the freeway, I can’t believe that just looking across has me looking at Mexico. I am really enjoying those mountains! I promise, pictures will eventually be posted.
I do miss having time to write…I need to make tome to do what I love. If I’m mildly incoherent, please excuse me. I’m worn out!
After a crazy day of travel that started way too early on less than three hours of sleep, I’m finally settled in to my new digs.
Many of you are writers or artists of some sort, so you’ll understand. Yesterday my inspiration bug bit. My problem? My house was still in shambles from our dinner party the night before and I was catching an 8 am flight the following morning.
Here’s the thing about priorities… My to do list should have been as follows:
1. Pack for my 3+ week trip
2. Clean up my messy kitchen and dining area (so hubby won’t have to)
3. Write…if there’s time.
What actually happened? I followed my muse, of course, causing #1 and #3 to flip in priority order. Since I was on a roll and wanted to finish my WIP…..that’s what I did. During my breaks I loaded the dishwasher and started to pack. I finished packing around midnight. Finished my WIP at about 2:30 am. My alarm was set for 5:30 (saved time by showering at midnight).
At 5:45 my friend picked me up for the airport. I kissed hubby and the dogs goodbye and was on my way.
I should have known today would not go smoothly when I waited more than 10 minutes for the curbside check in guy to finish with the only couple in front of me only to check in at the counter instead. At the auto check-in the lady told us TSA was busy and had an hour long wait. I was almost through the line when the couple who’d been checking in curbside finally got there. Good thing I didn’t wait. Right?
Our flight left on time, and even arrived in DFW when it was supposed to. The problem? There was still another plane at the gate. We sat on the Tarmac for over 30 minutes. My actual arrival time was 9:51am. My connecting flight began boarding at 10:10 with a scheduled departure time of 10:40. By the time I made it off the plane it was already 10:36. I did what any seasoned traveller would do. Stop at the gate and talk to the lady at the counter in an attempt to get them to hold the flight for a few extra minutes.
As The woman and I talked the gate told her I had 10 minutes. She’d already mentioned the next flight, but they’d told her to have me rush to catch the shuttle and try to get my flight. I was in D concourse and my flight was in c. Gamely I rushed to the new gate, huffing and puffing through my poor sinus infected body, bogged down with luggage and expecting to die of what might become my first asthma attack. I got there 5 minutes after the flight took off. Of course!
Next, they rescheduled me for a later flight…leaving in a little more than an hour. Sweet! Except it was all the way back where I started. In D concourse. At least this time I didn’t have to kill myself. The time gave me a chance to grab a bite of the worst seasoned orange chicken and fried rice I’ve ever had…and to take my meds.
Finally I got on my flight to El Paso at 12:45. I was thrilled! This time everything went off without a hitch. Well, till I got my voice mail saying the rental car place was giving my friend a hard time about me getting the car on her credit card. No worries, though, the hotel has shuttles to and from the airport. With Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte in hand I was ready to conquer anything. Good thing because I didn’t see my luggage on the carousel! Fortunately, when I walked into the baggage claim office, my bag was already there…waiting for me.
So here are a couple of pictures of my new home for the next few weeks…
What about you guys? Have you experienced Murphy’s law while traveling? Tell me the story… What do you do when your muse and priorities collide?
So, I've been spanked, hard! I have spanked myself hard, I have spanked others even harder! I'm now heading for a different road, one that still includes all the best bits of me, all the naughty bits, all the hot steamy bits, and plenty of spanking still to be had! But this time I'm creating characters to play out my delightful erotic fantasies, I hope you enjoy the new ride as much as the previous one...
theinnerwildkat 