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.