To Dragon Pearl Tea and Brownies Audrey Simmons makes her debut at the Westport Coffehouse accompanying her Uncle John Winter to "Johnny's Got A New Guitar".
Lyrics by Lisa Winter/ Music by John Winter

Watch
YOU TUBE
(Please excuse the poor quality of the movie from my digitial camera.)

John Winter on YOU TUBE with the KC Songwriters Circle

and more Johnny

Growth!

Bathroom Concert

I love to stand outside the bathroom listening to the husband sing along to the radio as he is getting ready for work.

" It goes 1 by 1 even 2 by 2 ...."

Here is real; uninhibited...

"Take a look at me now..."

..singing his heart out...

"I'm not talkin bout locking down forever, baby..."

Outside the bathroom door he feels like everyone is watching him; judging. Mostly, this is because he really is that important and secondary, he too is a judge of all others whose lives breeze by him.

After his performance he comes out smelling great and groomed like a modern-blue-collar-metro-sexual, humming the last song of his concert.

"If you want to sing out sing out..."

Today is my day off.

(I hear you snickering. )

There are two schools of thought regarding a housewife's day off.
1. " Whatever.... everyday is your day off."
or
2. "Yeah right.... we know you have already cleaned the kitchen, finished two loads of laundry, ran errands only to return and have to clean the kitchen again because the kids stayed home to .... well, do whatever home school kids do."

Be that all as it may, I declared a few days ago that Thursday was my day off. By all powers of the forces to be - today is that very day.

I am extremely excited because while running errands, I found the perfect book at the library. It called me from across the room. As you now know about me, I believe in whatever word you use for fate/coincidence.

It is entitled "The TV Writer's Workbook". As a bigger fate/coincidence the author Ellen Sandler started her paid writing career by writing episodes for "Taxi". How crazy is that. After I have been telling everyone all week that my new adult paper route job would make a great sitcom, just like..... yes..."TAXI".

To recap.... on my very planned day off I find the very book that helps me write the very thing in my head the very week I started thinking about it.

Holy cow!!! What more can one person ask for?
Well, actually since you asked..... I am asking if anyone would be interested in a writers circle type thing. Just like the www.nanowrimo.org who write a book in a month, I am thinking about doing this workbook from start to finish in a month with the final result - one script!

Who's Driving this Coaster!

I woke up this morning the mother of a teenager. Though the odds were in her favor, I just didn't think it would get here so fast.

My long curled girl who watched Barney endlessly, is now insisting that she is old enough for a boyfriend. Though she still prefers her running shorts, she came home from shopping with a pair of designer jeans and a stylish shirt that didn't have any sports advertising on it. She even wore her hair down the other day long enough for it to dry!

I am cautiously excited about the whole thing. So, far it has been a wonderful roller coaster with her: many turns and hills; much laughter and enthusiasm.

She has this amazing ability to give and see beauty in everybody and everything around her.

My reservation about the whole teenage deal comes from the fact that I am on board but I am definitely not the one in control of the roller coaster, and the kicker is... neither is she!

Top 10 Ways You Know Your Man has MLCD*

10. He forgets family members names; where he is driving to.
10B. He asks what your plans are for the upcoming Friday, when you have had the same plans every Friday for FOUR years.
9. After you've talked with him you wonder what the hell he just said to you.
8. Not much of anything at home makes him happy.
7. He spends his lunch money going to the bars and coffee houses.
6. He doesn't complain about your messy house anymore, because he won't invite his friends over anyway.
5. He "Wanna talk about I -Wanna talk about number one -Oh my me my"
4. He buys a cell phone and puts the family on mac and cheese for weeks because he goes over on his minutes.
4B. U discuS probz & fite n txt.
3. His honesty brings you to your knees.
2. Your main goal in life becomes to make it through the day half way sane and without crying.
1. He says he loves you, after he explains his "freedom" needs.

*Midlife Crisis Disease effects men at whatever age they decide symbolizes their loss of youth and hopes that they will someday be millionaire bachelors holding wet t-shirt contests on their yachts, sipping margaritas in one hand and holding themselves in the other. MLCD continues it's hold on these men for an indefinite amount of time. Side effects are: slight brain damage and loss of all basis of past realities, taking the women holding unconditional love for them for granted and treating people carelessly. There is no known cure at this time.

The Magic Room

The Magic Room
A Guest Essay
by Sam Hale

Last night I stood outside the bedroom door as my thirteen and ten year old granddaughters (sisters) were laughing, singing, playing and had been for over three hours. They had only been interrupted for a few minutes by dinner. I stopped in to play with them several times throughout the evening but they didn't need any help having fun.

For the last fifteen years my grandchildren, nieces, nephews and a few lucky friends have disappeared into the magic room, only to be drug out by their parents to go home. Their parents sit in my living room first amazed then startled when they realize their children hadn't been seen or heard for hours.

"It's impossible," they say. "Impossible. Three and four year can't have an attention span that long."

Then they go look into The Room, shake their heads in awe and stare in at their kids.

When my girls were grown and married, we were blessed with seven grand kids.

Raelynne, Jeremy, Johnny, Annalise, Audrey, Samantha and Sabrina.

We have a wonderful time and many traditions. So many as Granddad, I am proud to have started.

However, Grandma invented and built this magic room.

It started as the bedroom of my youngest daughter. It was always a happy and fun place to enter. When she moved out my wife started fixing up the room. She had me install shelves and tables around the three walls. I knew she was making a play room for our kids. It evolved into The Magic Room where our grand kids make war, fly airplanes, raise families, fight Indians, play school and visit places they have read about, seen pictures of or used their very bright imagination to create. I'm very sure they go places that I don't know.

The prime users of the room are now four of our granddaughters; fourteen, thirteen, ten and eight years old. Once in awhile the eighteen year old still enjoys the room.

The sisters and cousins have the rooms divided into "my house". All four have areas that are equipped to send the imagination individually or in groups from the moon to just in charge of your own family.

Grandma filled the room with PlayMobil toys. I don't know if there are one or one hundred of everything. I do know our kids have dozens of every type of people, I know. Not to mention the airports, forts, houses, castles, filling stations and on and on.

When the kids enter the room it glows, they sparkle and the magic begins.

I don't understand it. But I love it. Grandma brought the gift of love and imagination to my kids. What is gained? My kids read not because they must but because they love to. They can see the play in their minds. They all make good grades. My eighteen year old has many scholarships to help her in her freshman year in college.

I am very glad to have The Magic Room in my house!

Blue Angels of Truck Driving

Want an apple, but don't have an apple tree?

Want to top your homegrown tomato off with some cottage cheese?
Need more trash bags before the trash truck comes at 8:00 am?
New Pen? Dog Food. . . cat food . . . baby food . . .

No worries, you can run to the local Sunfresh and grab all that's on your list.

Like Magic?

Opening a speakeasy in your basement? Found the finishing touch on ebay - a 1938 5 cent slot machine. Problem. It won't fit in your car. (Not that it matters anyway you live no where by the Hollywood club in Toledo.)

No worries, it can be delivered to you front door.

The convenience of having all those things at your local grocer and your front door delivery is provided not by magic but with the help of your local truckers.

With that in mind, it was an awesome experience to watch a showcase of the top Kansas Truck Drivers on a hot June Saturday at the 2007 Kansas Motor Carriers Association Professional Truck Driving Championships. (In truckease - "The Rodeo".)

Truck drivers spit shined their cabs, rolled up their sleeves and accomplished some unbelievable "problems". The elite, invited to compete due to their safely record, performed amazing maneuvers. They are the Blue Angels of truck driving.

Our John started the rodeo off. We cheered as his name was called. We took pause at the announcement of his 300,000 plus miles of safe driving! (We all know that's what brings him home every night.)

The competition field was made up of six "problems" that were similar to everyday challenges: backing up to a dock, parallel parking, diminish alley, maneuvering around obstacles as close as possible but not touching, weight station, and the final stop.

On the diminishing alley, the driver had to center the truck with only 6 inches to spare on each side. 6 inches! (Please remember that they are professionals, do not, I repeat, do not try this at home.)

That is how the day progressed. One by one the Truckers pulled out of the starting gate to the glory of their safety records with intentions of a top performance that would take them to Nationals. And one by one, they blew me away!

Magic . . . no way . . . just down home Truckies doing their jobs!!!!

A Glimpse - "Maybe"

I was already drawn to him a few houses back. He was picking at his guitar hanging out on his front porch. As I made my way to his front porch, he stood up and reached over the railing for the paper I was delivering.

He nodded a thanks. His face was soft and kind.

I felt jealous of him sitting on his front porch; enjoying the day at a pace all of his own.

That small glimpse of his life gave me something to wonder about for the next 200 houses on my route.

Was he writing his own songs?
Practicing for a performance at the local coffee house?
Preparing lesson plans for his guitar students?

Strangely, I looked forward to his house the next week. I hoped to catch another glimpse into who this mystery man was. Disappointed, I found his porch empty with only traces of activity - cigarette butts and soda cans on the table.

It has been five weeks now and I have not seen him again.

Was my first judgment of our minute encounter wrong? Had I romanticized him a greater life then he feels he is in the midst of?

Maybe I caught him playing hooky from his real life, picking at his long lost love?
Perhaps, he spends his days stuck inside chained to chores and/or the rules of others.

Could be on that day we "met" he thought to himself:
How lucky she is to be out and about without the confines of four walls.

Packing For Them

A few days ago

(well okay,
yesturday)

as I was soaking in self pity,

The Husband takes a stab at

boosting my confidence

by telling me

the things I am good at.



At the top of his list he says that

I am a wonderful Mom.

Look what great kids we have, says He.


I laughed.

The laugh of one in the know.


Truth is . . .

our children

are great people

despite the baggage

I keep packing for them!

Wake Up Call?

Recently, as once in a while happens, I became overtaken by this strange feeling of death. This dark emptiness catches my breathe and holds it for the briefest second.

Usually, it throws me into a numbness of trying to imagine death for myself.

But, this time feels different.

My life is considerably off balance: trying to figure this stuff out with the man of the house, fighting diabetes and subsequently my daughter, finding a job, feeling overwhelmed with the state of our home. I can't even add to this list my two cents about money- my pockets are literally empty.

Dangling from air, stationary, but spinning, wildly, out of control. In this state I find myself: half listening, missing appointments with friends, stressing the girls. . . lost. And the cherry on top . . . wishing days away.

Perhaps that death/emptiness feeling isn't about death at all but an alarm calling out to me,

WAKE UP!!!! There aren't enough days to be wishing even one away!

I remember my 92 year old Grandma when asked how she was would look you straight in the eyes, her smile accenting her rosy checks and reply:

Glad to be here.

I am glad to be here. I am glad this is my life. I am not truly lost; just trying to find my way in a part of my life with excessive feelings and no road signs.

I'm Back Baby!!!!

I'm back to blogging.
Not just because you missed me,
but for some reason this is where I find my sanity;
my balance.

I am a hamster turning the wheel without the good sense to get off. The wheel keeps on turning so I keep on walking . . . or perhaps I keep on walking so the wheel keeps on turning.

None the less, I am finding it hard to find the time to write even though I think in paragraphs all day long. Thoughts to be stranded in my head while I continue my walk on the hamster wheel.

Am I wasting my time writing on this blog; starting (not finishing) stories, plays, scripts - most likely. But it is sure a more satisfying way to waste time then doing my chores like the endless piles of laundry. (Unless, of course, I wear my birthday suit. Then for a brief cycle all the laundry in the house is done!)

So, for better or worse,
for reason or insanity . . .
I hope you'll take a walk with me on the blog wheel!

A poem by - Mary Ainge De Vere

Lifes Mirror

There are loyal hearts, there are spirits brave,
There are souls that are pure and true;
Then give to the world the best you have,
And the best will come back to you.

Give love, and love to your life will flow,
A strength in your utmost need;
Have faith, and a score of hearts will show
Their faith in your word and deed.

Give truth, and your gift will be paid in kind,
And honor will honor meet;
And a smile that is sweet will surely find
A smile that is just as sweet.

Give sorrow and pity to htose who mourn;
You will gather in flowers again
The scattered seeds of your thougth outborne,
Though the sowing seemed in vain.

For life is the mirror of the king and the slave-
'Tis just what we are and do;
Then give to the world the best you have,
And the best will come back to you.

- Mary Ainge De Vere

Number One Fan

Could it have been foresight that my mother crewel embroidered this sign for me? Could she have known that I would turn out to know nothing at all? Or did she hope to inspire me to become imaginative with this subliminal message greeting me daily for three decades.

Perhaps, she simply fancied the design and while stitching she day dreamed of my sisters and I sitting together in a home made tree house discussing and debating the worlds hard questions.

Regardless of how it came about, this motto has become part of my design. My imagination is in full swing - for better or worse!

And to this day, Mom continues to be my imaginations number one fan. She invites it in, asks how it's doing, makes it chocolate chip cookies. (She even let's it lick the spoon.)

It always comes home with an inflated head; feeling like it can do anything.

Mother's Day Proclamation - 1870

by Julia Ward Howe

Arise then...women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts!
Whether your baptism be of water or of tears!
Say firmly:
"We will not have questions answered by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage,
For caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country,
Will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."

From the voice of a devastated Earth a voice goes up with
Our own. It says: "Disarm! Disarm!
The sword of murder is not the balance of justice."
Blood does not wipe our dishonor,
Nor violence indicate possession.
As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil
At the summons of war,
Let women now leave all that may be left of home
For a great and earnest day of counsel.
Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace...
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
But of God -
In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality,
May be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient
And the earliest period consistent with its objects,
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions,
The great and general interests of peace.

Faithful Elephants

When Annalise turned the corner she had tears in her eyes. Since she is fourteen, it took me off guard. I looked at my younger daughter for a translation.

"She just read 'Faithful Elephants'. I tried to tell her it'd make her cry."

Samantha and I had read "Faithful Elephants: A True Story of Animals, People and War" by Yukio Tsuchiya the previous evening.

Nancy, our own personal librarian at the Downtown Kansas City Public Library, suggested it to us. She warned us that though it is wrapped up as a picture book, it was a tough one.

In the preface "To the Readers", Chieko Akiyama conveys his hope that the reading of this book help bring about "seeds of peace and war prevention will be sown."

By the first few pages of the story we were heartsick for John, Tonky and Wanly.

During WWII, these three elephants were of many killed by Ueno Zoo keepers who thought that IF any of the animals survived the bombings they would be loose, scared and therefore dangerous.

For whatever reason, the keepers were unable to poison the elephants as originally planned. John, Tonky and Wanly were starved to death.

"Over two weeks later, Tonky and Wanly were dead. Both died leaning against the bars of their cage with their trunks stretched high in the air, still trying to do their banzai trick for the people who once feed them."

Our sorrow extended to the elephants Japanese Keepers who were ordered to carry out this death plan.

At the end of the story Samantha had one burning question,

"Was the Ueno Zoo bombed?"

Other words, did John, Tonky, Wanly and their zoo friends have to die?

We took the question to the web. Google's only response - Hap Halloran's, WWII Prisoner of War, web page.

'Then Hap was moved to Ueno Zoo in Tokyo where he was a prisoner in an animal cage and tied to the front bars in his lion cage so civilians could march by and view a B-29 flyer. He was naked and black from non-washing and hair all over his face. Hap lost 90 lbs. and was covered with open running sores from flea-bed bug bites.'

After being left with these two brutally honest contradictions of war, I have one simple burning question:

What if Samantha, Annalise and myself . . . along with you . . . extended our hands out of our caged thinking and fostered the growth of seeds of peace in memory of Tonky, Wanly, John and Hap . . . and the googol of other victims of wars?

I am Brave

When the softness leaves his eyes . . .

I tell myself,

"Deep Breathe Girl."

When his truths sucker punch me . . .

I tell myself,

"I will be okay."

When I can't find the courage to even get up to leave . . .

I tell myself,

"I am brave."

After days like today . . .

I tell myself,
"HOLY SH@$."

The Arrival of Jealousy

In our house the arrival of Jealousy is strictly taboo. She came in with the gust of a 1930's dust bowl and made herself at home. Most often we walk around her pretending that she is not there. Sometimes, I will set my mind to sweeping her out of our home. (Or at least under the rug.) But before I can finish this monumental task, the man of the house mixes her a drink.

Drink in hand, fueled, Jealousy orders return address stickers with her name in curlicue's and our address in bold.

It's not that I have never been jealous before. In the past it was a fleeting thought.

"How cute that dad is out by himself with his little kids, I wish that was my husband."
"They look great on the dance floor together, I wish that was Ben and I."
"They won how much? Why not me!"

It's just that this is the first time I have had her as a house pest . . . I am completely unequipped for the battle.

She is a strong contender; armed with ugly truths.
She is wise; she embedded herself with Love.
She is sneaky; she attacks after I think that she has hit the road.
She is bold; she invades my dreams.

I know if I could simply stop feeding Jealousy with time she would either leave or wither away. Such is my intent, but . . . damn, a girl can only take so much.

So, I sat her down today for a long talk. Told her this "arrangement" was not working out for me. And as Marion Robert Morrison might say, I told her with absolute certainty,

"This town ain't big enough for the two of us!"

The talk went . . .okay . . . she was a great sport about it, she even offered to help me pack!

A Soccer Folly

PARENT VS. REFEREE; PLAYER VS. PLAYER; PARENT VS. PARENT

A SOCCER FOLLY

The game started off with a group prayer in the middle of the soccer field. Each player beside her soon to be opponent. Prayer is a hard thing for me. It seems to be most often used as a wishing list. But, seeing the game started this way did make me feel good. (Of course, a group hug would have worked just as well. . . for me.)


Before I begin the Follies, I would like to pose a rhetorical question:

Have you EVER in any sport from pee wee to college seen a referee/umpire . . . any official, change a call because of something a parent yells from the side line? EVER?

The answer is NO.

Such it was on this particular sunny day in the middle of No Man's Land Kansas.

The referee WAS among the worst I have ever witnessed.

At first his bad calls had no bias. But, to the misfortune of my daughter's Lazers team, there pacing the sidelines was one particular parent who was feeling a little God like. He knew what SHOULD have been called (every time) and he was not afraid to share this information with the referee. (And as you might have guessed, in his world the Lazers had a perfect game with no fouls, no off sides, no trapping the ball, etc.)

Eventually, it was hard to get a call in favor of the Lazers; that is just how it works. It was inevitable with the God Like Lazers Parent continuously shouting at the referee.

Selfishly, I was more annoyed with him because he was obstructing every ones view - mostly mine - of the game.
(Like a St. Patricks Day Parade Parent. The ones who follow their child performers along the parade path and stand in front of the people who have been waiting and waiting sitting there on the sidewalk. I look up , because of course I am talking about ME, to watch the dancers and I am butt level with a group of obnoxious parents! My kids are crying and I'm..... sorry, I tend to get carried away.)

As I mentioned, this was one of the most deplorable jobs of refereeing I have personally seen. He wasn't calling fouls. The other team had lots of replacements so they always had a blast of new energy but they didn't have the skills to even turn the ball around on the field. Girls with no skills on the soccer field are dangerous. They just don't have any control. (Especially, if they are bigger.) The opposing team were all over our girls.

Another truth to any game: Not calling the personal fouls makes for a wild game! It didn't take long for the Lazers to become just as reckless if not worse. It is that whole justification thing.

Toward the end of the game, one of the Lazers blatantly shoved her Opponent off of the ball. She "won" the ball and had passed it as the Referee blew his whistle. About the same time, the Opponent ran over to the Lazers girl - who no longer had the ball - and shoved her across the field.

God Like Lazers Parent started yelling, "That is what happens when you don't call the game." Over and Over.

The Referee warned him that he was on his way to the parking lot. He then huddled the two girls in question for a fatherly talk. The surprise finish, the Ref gave the ball back to our team. Man, that broke the other team out of their silence.

The next excitement in this brawl was a call no referee could have won.

Lazers Girl had the ball, Opponent was taller and therefore pushing down on Lazers Girls back. Lazers Girl was now trapping the ball. Tit for Tat; both illegal plays. This call did not play out in our favor. Opponent was awarded the ball. Lazers Girl Dad was up out of his seat - crazy mad having his say.

Now for reasons I just don't know, perhaps the Opponent's Parents had had enough as well, one of the parents from the other team decided that he was going to set Lazers Girl Dad straight. So the yelling began. First from where they were sitting, and then face to face.

Opponent Dad, "You can't trap the ball."
Lazers Girl Dad, "The other girl was on top of her."
Opponent Dad, "You can't trap the ball."
. . . just keep replaying this dialogue and that was about the jest of it.

I wanted to walk up to them and tell them Hallelujah they were both right. That the only foreseeable answer to this problem was for all us parents to storm the field, over throw the Officials and let these two dad's referee the remainder of the game.

Just as I was about to my feet to offer my solution, the parent confrontation turned from bad to downright UGLY!

Opponent Dad, "Just go sit down. Just go sit down. Just go sit down."
Lazers Girl Dad, "I will, your not worth my time!"
Then it came down like the judges gavel from the Opponent Dad, "And you call yourself a Christian."
Lazers Girl Dad. "I am a Christian. I am protecting my daughter!"
Opponent Dad, " You don't need to protect your daughter that is what the Referees are for!"

I had to laugh to myself. We had come full circle. Just as both girls on the field were wrong, both dads that stood before us showing their a$$es, were also wrong.

As Opponent Dad stated, Lazers Girl Dad can't protect his daughter on the field. Besides, she was way past it and still giving her all out there on the field. And as Lazers Girl Dad said, the referees were just plain awful!

The battle was over. Lazers 2 - Opponents -3.

I felt as exhausted as my girl who could barely make her way to the car. Along our way we passed Lazers Girl Dad, God Like Lazers Parent and Opponent Dad who were all huddled together in a group hug.

Amen....

. . . Okay, I made that last part up. I can't help it. I just love a group hug!

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Tom Hanks and Joanna Sitting in a Tree...

... Magical Thinking!

We are all capable of Magical Thinking. The kind that tucks us in at night.

My husband's biggest is the Missouri Power Ball. He faithfully hands over his two dollars every Wednesday; never forgetting to check the winning numbers in The Star the following Thursday morning. He does this week in and week out regardless of the fact that he has NEVER gotten more then 3 of the 6 numbers right. Ben's booster shot of hope comes when the Billion Dollar winner adorns the television saying that they are not going to work another day in their life and are now going on a world holiday with their new winnings. And he knows that this everyday winner could be him next time.



Ever since we both acquired Bosoms, Tom Hanks has been my bedtime story. I just KNOW if fate would bring us together, he'd bench Rita and let me pinch hit.

After all, I am his number one fan. Who else in the United States has forgiven him for The Bonfire of the Vanities.

Twenty something years have passed since his television debut. Time has brought Tom two golden awards and me two golden children. Unfortunately, time has not closed the 1625.97 miles gap between Tom and me.

Fate brings people together everyday, why not us. After all other then a few small things like:

he is rich . . . I am not . . .
he is famous . . . I am not . . .

we have a lot in common.


I was reminded of this a few weeks ago when I watched Tom on Inside the Actors Studio with James Lipton. At the end of the interview James asks every guest the same set of questions compiled by Bernard Pivot.

I could hardly believe it. His answers were perfect and exactly what I would have answered.

And that my friend is how I got my newest Booster Shot of Magical Thinking!

Here are Tom Hanks answers:

Q. What is your favorite word?
A. Dad

Q. What is your least favorite word?
A. Bitter compromise

Q. What turns you on?
A. Laughter

Q. What turns you off?
A. Eggshells. Not the kind you eat. The kind that you walk on.

Q. What is your favorite curse word?
A. *uck

Q. What sound or noise do you love?
A. The families conversation when their in the other room.

Q. What sound or noise do you hate?
A. The ringing of the telephone.

Q. What profession, other then your own, would you like to attempt?
A. Weekly columnist.

Q. What profession would you not like to attempt?
A. Lawyer, that's like doing homework for a living.

Q. If heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?
A. Different then you thought, ain't it?

Lost Their Shine

I was looking for Ben's fingernail clippers that he hides atop our old television stand amongst his manly things, piles of work papers, articles he has written and memorabilia that reminds me how old I am; not how old I feel.

It was while rustling through these things that I found our wedding rings, sitting together much as I remembered them in our wedding photos.

I stopped wearing mine about 40 pounds ago. He stopped wearing his...well, honestly, I don't know. I didn't notice. That about says it all.

We bought our rings from a school buddy of mine, Bryan Pipkin. He was working at Krigel's in Metro North Shopping Center. (He was my first beau. Not that that is a big accomplishment, he was every one's first boyfriend.) After Ben and I picked out what we wanted in the way of rings, Bryan ran Ben's credit. He came back wide eyed and proud to say that Ben had an outstanding credit report.

We had rings and great credit.

We were going places!

I can't remember where we were headed. Actually, I don't think we even knew back then. Not that it mattered because, as the rings symbolized, where ever we ended up would be great; we'd be there together.

Today, as I rediscover our rings, it's obvious that the romance of the rings has lost it's shine.

The rings are now dusty and abandoned - still they seem to once again be saying that we are going places.

The nurturing side of me knows that where ever we end up will eventually be okay, maybe even wonderful.

The hopeless romantic in me, that has seen one to many chick flicks, can't help but hope that when we arrive at this new wonderful place we'll be there together - wearing our old shiny rings.

Happy 18th!!

Under the guidance of our forefathers and current lawmakers, today Girl you turn old enough to legally:

* go into the black hole of debt
* win $100,100,101.o1
* be one of the many votes "lost" in cyberspace on it's way from a Diebold Voting machine to paper accountability
* marry a person of at least same age and opposite sex
* and play nicotine roulette.

Did I forget to mention, you may also now give your life to the cause of the "War on Terror". No, wait . . . we were already victorious over that one. It's the "War on Religion" ... Shoot, that's not right either. Dang it, I can't remember what this war is called.
(Keep in mind if choosing this one, to pack some food in that backpack of yours, because I will be hitting you over the head and posting you to Canada!)

By strange contrast, I am sorry to inform you that you are NOT responsible enough to:

* enjoy a cruise without a person over 25 years old
* go line dancing at a bar
* rent a car
* and most hotels will turn their nose at you.
(Unless of course, it is for rest and relaxation in Iraq.)

So, Happy Birthday to YOU!
and
Welcome to the crazy contradicting nonsensical laws of the
"REAL WORLD!"

Is There Such A Man?

So, the question today becomes:

"Is there such a man that would do anything for the one he loves?"

Does Disney, Hallmark, Paramount and Buena Vista Pictures sell fact or crap?

* Is there a man out there who would learn to dance just so you don't have to sit on the side of the dance floor when you LONG to be out there doing the electric slide and dirty dancing with him.
* Is there a man out there that even when he doesn't feel his best would still come with you to (fill in the blank) just because where ever you are is where he feels best.
* Is there a man out there that would on his own without coaching get someone to watch the kids and take you out on a surprise date.
* Am I hallucination right now or what? Is this how Paramount, etc. get their ideas?

Is there a women out there that would do those things for her man ... of course. After all, we are ran with estrogen and just a touch of testosterone.
(okay, well... maybe more then a touch - I am kind of hairy and (fill in the blank)!)

Jesus Drives A Dodge?

Just as any typical drive on 1-35 highway to downtown; we were listening to the radio, chit chatting, talking on the cell phone.

Then bang... I switched lanes and I am right behind Jesus.
Yes, that is right, I said... I was right behind Jesus.

I am not sure what was more shocking to find myself behind Jesus or to learn that he drives a beat up old Dodge.

I am yelling on my cell phone to my cousin, Jenorey, "We're following Jesus! We're following Jesus!"

She was a bit skeptical of my sighting. (Perhaps her skepticism was green laced with jealousy.)

This is when I learned cell phone lesson #131 -
If you try to use your cell phone to take a picture while currently talking on it:

1. you will not get a picture and
2. you will end up talking to yourself.

Bottom line...I didn't end up with a picture of Jesus in his Dodge or the identifying bumper message, "Follow Jesus".

(Not that we need proof. We know what we saw.)

Our life was only touched for a few miles. Apparently, Jesus' destination was not the same as ours. He exited onto Front street. We watched his Dodge circle the exit ramp that leads to the Isle of Capri Casino.

In hind sight, we should have followed him to the casino. Imagine the prayers answered that day!

"Please.. please Jesus, all I need is an $1,000."
Actually, that wouldn't even pay for one of my credit cards.

"Please... please Jesus, all I need is $10,000."
Actually, that wouldn't even pay off a fraction of my debt.

"Please...please Jesus, all I need is ... is the JACK POT!!!!!"

Happy Birthday to ME!

I LOVE MY BIRTHDAY.

Maybe it's easy to love having a birthday at 35. But the way I see it you only have two choices. You are either blowing out candles with your name written across the cake or laying under your name written in stone.

So . . . bring'em on.

And why not, it's a day all about ME!!!!!!

No dishes, no laundry, people are willing to do things for you they normally wouldn't.

The only saddness I have on my birthday is that the great story teller of February 12, 1972 passed away a few years ago.

Every year for my birthday my Grandma would tell of the worse snow storm she could remember and how hard it was to get to the hospital when she got the call from my folks to come pick up my sisters. Then she'd tell about my sisters singing in the car. And so on.

It was a warm embrass when she'd share with me how wonderful the day was when I entered this world. Snow storm and all!

What Do I Know?

Every book I picked up regarding blogging kept stressing the importance of writing about what you know.

But, what DO I know?

* I know that the best way to cure diaper rash is to leave their bottom uncovered .... not that that was ever my best idea.
* I know how to burn no back cookies.
* I know how to keep a messy house.
* I know that the two beautiful girls I spent many nights rocking to sleep will eventually drive me to pull all my graying hair out.
* I know how to be a wife to a husband that after 17 years with me is not really sure what he wants anymore.
* Most importantly, I know how many carbs are in a tablespoon of peanut butter.

And I know that I was smarter when I was 18 - because back then I had all the answers.

This sounds better then what you have going on. Go to blogger.com and start typing!

But, if this feels comfortable . . . come take a ride with me!

Disclaimer: Keep your hands and feet inside the coaster at all times; don't unbuckle until the ride comes to a complete stop.