I Can't Believe it Either!

I read the comics every day.

In fact, when I moved to Denver, I was disappointed to find that between the Denver Post and the Rocky Mountain News... not even three of my top five comics were represented. A G**gle search ensued to find my daily comic strips Online. I don't remember how, but eventually I found the Seattle Times Online and along with it, my top 5 comics.

Part of me hates to admit that I read Cathy. Not in my top 5 - but it's there when I check on the others so it doesn't hurt to check in. She's usually good for a laugh.

Occasionally, I share a funny strip with friends. For example: Pickles pokes great fun of humans and cat/human relationships... so that's great to share with my pet owner friends.

But last week, Cathy struck a cord relationship-wise.
Mr. Burns and I have learned that we have very different mental processes.

For example:
As a typical woman, my mind is constantly mulitasking. In fact, when I talk about pursuing photography... before long I'm talking about buying a new SLR with more megapixels because mine only has 6. Next thing, I'm talking about taking out a wall in my condo so I can have room for an office and a potential studio. Mr. Burns gets exhausted and says... "Why don't you work out steps 1-10 instead of jumping up to step 1,243?"

Mr. Burns sticks to one task at a time. I can't ask about plans for holiday travel while he's making breakfast - because he's busy thinking about breakfast!

Ugh!

So, I gritted my teeth and sent him this Cathy strip:
I was a little afraid he wouldn't even read it because it's Cathy. So imagine my surprise when that evening, I asked him a question and he said... "Refer to the Cathy strip." !!!

He's referred to it a few times since then. It takes a big man to embrace Cathy. But for the sake of communication, I guess he thinks it's worth it!

Meet Sylvia

Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm pleased to introduce Sylvia!



After a mindnumbing 2 week search for a car to replace Gracie... I finally found Sylvia yesterday. She's a 1996 Toyota Camry.



I am convinced that car shopping cannot be fun. Unless you can walk into a dealer with $40,000 and say... I want that car - it can't possibly be fun.

My experience was made all the more distressing by the fact that I wasn't prepared to buy a car. Gracie and I were getting along fine. Then suddenly, she was dead. No time to research or comparision shop. Worst of all... I was limited to the cash amount the insurance company gave me for Gracie. $3,000. Yeah. If you think it stinks looking for a car to begin with - try sticking to that price range! Thank heavens the insurance company gave me a rental car for 5 days.

The first few cars I saw were disgusting. I felt as though I wanted to put on a hazmat suit before sitting in them.

So I didn't even sit in them!

I told the salesman no freaking way - that's unacceptable and I expect something as clean and pretty as Gracie or don't even show it to me. I don't want to feel like I have to boil the car to disinfect it!

I did not make friends.

I won't even go into the disappointment of Craigslist scams... Scam after scam... ugh! And the the many people who either don't bother to meet you after you've agreed upon a time... or schedule an appointment with someone else... and sell their car even though they told you they wouldn't even be available until the next evening.

It was disheartening even though I did eventually find Sylvia through Craigslist.

My mechanic checked her out... found just a few problems that are worth fixing... and deemed the car a winner! I went back to my new Craigslist friend with the inspection report and repair summaries and he took $500 off the original offer.

Sylvia and I were united (the paperwork actually says: To have and to hold!) upon the exchange of $3,300!

And now, a moment of reflection for Gracie.
There will never be another like her. (Wish I could put a music montage here!!)

Home of the Brave ~ Land of the Free

One of my favorite parts of the Olympic Games is the medal ceremonies.

No matter which country is represented - I love seeing the great pride on the faces of the athletes whose life dedication is finally realized.

No matter which national anthem is played, you can often see the emotion well up- in the close-up shot of the Gold Medalist as the music swells.

But there is no pride like that of watching an American on the podium - and recognizing the words of our anthem moving across their lips.
Sadly, during these Olympic Games I have yet to witness that.

I was convinced, at the start of Gymnast Shawn Johnson's ceremony (she's from the heartland of America, Des Moines, Iowa after all) that she would certainly be overcome with the lyrics. Her lips didn't move a twinge except for that weird lip biting thing she does.

So disappointing.

In ALL of Michael Phelps medal ceremonies - I didn't see him mouth the words even once!

Shocking!

Has national pride sunk so low? Or do these young whippersnappers just not even know the words?!?!?!

But to be honest... I was most disappointed in the live producers for NBC. Yes... Michael Phelps won his final and upteenth Gold medal... outdoing even Mark Spitz... but during the medal ceremony for the Relay... the camera stayed on a tight shot of Phelps' face during the ENTIRE NATIONAL ANTHEM!!!!
It was a medal ceremony for the RELAY. Relay. That's four... count them, 4 guys!!!
I'm happy for Phelps but come on... it was like his 13th Gold medal! It was probably the ONLY gold for the three other guys who HELPED WIN THE EVENT!
Way to downplay their accomplishment.

Geez. Now for the history of the world... there will be no footage for these other three guys to show their families and potential grandchildren of them on the Gold Medal podium.

Bone head move NBC! Maybe a 4 shot would have been sufficient if you didn't want to take the bleeping camera off of Phelps.

And Phelps seems to be a pretty down to earth guy. I'm sure he's embarrassed that NBC couldn't stop lauding him long enough to give his teammates proper due.

Lessons Learned: Never Drive in a Monsoon

I have the most heart wrenching news. I broke my car.

I am crushed beyond words. I loved my car. Her name was Gracie. She was the first car I owned that wasn't a hand-me-down from my parents. I picked her out and bought her myself.

On Friday night Denver got some much needed rain. I went to fill in at a different studio and ended up in a part of town where I rarely venture. When I closed the shop I went outside and noticed a huge black cloud and knew that it was going to open up.

It did. The downpour couldn't drain off the streets fast enough... and I got caught in high water. Just prior to that, the rain was beating the windshield so hard that I couldn't even see out. I determined that I had best pull over - but before I got a chance, my car stalled.

I sat there, stuck in the far right lane with my hazard lights on, praying that no one would rear-end me while I waited for Mr. Burns to drive all the way across town to rescue me. I could hear and feel the water swell and swirl beneath Gracie each time another car passed by.

We tried to charge the battery but that wasn't it. We went to a nearby auto parts store and asked for advice. They thought it could be the starter - maybe it took on water and given a chance to dry out it could start right up. We let Gracie sit in a restaurant parking lot to dry out all day Saturday.

Come Sunday morning, still no change. We had AAA tow it to the dealership two blocks from where I stalled out.

The diagnosis came on Monday: Water got into the motor... problems compound from there... needs new engine. The cost of this repair exceeds the value of my car by at least $2,000. My insurance company is looking into it.

Tonight as I lay fitfully with sleep alluding me... I realized this:

I totalled my first car on 8-08-88 - and pretty much killed Gracie on 8-08-08.
Weird huh?

8 is supposed to be a lucky number (In China anyway - that's why the Olympic games opened on 8-08-08) But as a friend pointed out... maybe my car stalling where it did kept me from a worse accident further down the road. And in 1988 - my parents didn't want me to take my car to college. Could be Divine intervention there too - totalling the car. Perhaps that prevented a road trip or joy ride that carried a worse fate.

God only knows.

RIP Gracie.

Update: Sad to report that the Insurance Inspector agreed with the diagnosis. Gracie is a total loss. Off she goes to the big salvage yard in the sky.

A Heart As Big As This Country

If you want to see what a big heart looks like - go here:

Sending Them Home

The most beautiful and touching story I have seen in years.

God bless each and every man and woman serving to uphold our nation's freedom - and fighting for others whether we like or not.

Just Chill

I've decided to chill.

Since Mr. Burns and I hit the one year mark back in February... and especially since he didn't accompany me home for my dad's big birthday party (in May), I've been a bit desperate for answers regarding just where this is going.

More to the point, I've been talking to way too many friends about it. And way too many of those friends have advised me to end it. They say he won't know just what he has until he's faced with being without me.

Well, I just can't. And I finally realized - here's the biggie - that I definitely can't end this relationship with the idea that he's going to beg me to come back. No. If I'm going to end it, it has to be because I'm ready for it to be over and I don't expect a reconciliation. It's just not in my nature to create a manipulation like that. Furthermore, I believe it would be toying with God's will if I pretended that was what I want.

Because here's the thing. It's not as if I'm in a bad relationship. We have a great relationship. I'm just in a relationship that doesn't know exactly what the next turn is going to be. And isn't that most relationships?

I've thought, several times, that if we were already married - this would be a phase of our relationship that we would have to work through. But because we're not married - I'm supposed to end the relationship? What sort of sense does that make?

One particular eye-opener came during a chat with the woman who cleans my condo building. (See, I told you I talk to way too many people about it! Even the cleaning lady.) She's such a sweet and tough little lady in her 50s who is also searching for love. When I told her that all of my friends - the ones who don't live near me and have never met Mr. Burns - tell me to get out. She asked what my other friends say.

"They all say that we're a great match."

So she asks, "Are the friends who tell you to leave married?"

"Yes." I responded with startled surprise. "You're right, they are all married!"

"Don't listen to them. They have distorted hindsight. They think their relationships are so perfect and they don't remember the struggles they had while they were dating their husbands. Marriage has wiped their memory clean." Then she continued, "I am so sick of my married friends doing the same thing to me!"

That really made me think... and it reinforced my idea that if I were already committed to this man with a ring and a house and a sacrament that I would work through it. Why does he deserve less commitment to our relationship because he hasn't popped the question yet? Don't I love him just the same? Wouldn't I expect it from him?

Then I decided - I just need to shut up. He's never going to feel inclined to sweep me off my feet if I'm constantly badgering him about what is coming next. That's no fun. He needs to see the woman he has fun with, who enjoys his company, who greets him sweetly and without expectation. The woman he can imagine spending his life with as a partner - not a nag.

I'm not talking about being a pushover. I'm talking about enjoying my relationship again.
And since I've started doing this - the smile on his face when he sees me is bigger and brighter. His eyes sparkle with joy and affection. His embrace is tighter and warmer. He won't even let go of my hand when he shifts gears while driving!

Suddenly I realize, this may not even be a change. He may have been looking at me this way all along but I couldn't see it because I was busy holding him against my checklist, my to-do list, and my calendar.

When I spent my time being frustrated, I was annoyed at his flirtatious smile because I took it as meaning he didn't feel the anxiety I was feeling.

He struggles with the same anxiety in his own way. Is he the man for me? Is he using up the last of my childbearing years if he determines we are not a forever match? That's a lot of pressure on him too.

I have prayed and prayed asking God to show me if I should leave... and the answer hasn't been clear. I'll just wait until it is. Perfectly.

Dear Dove,

Dear Dove,

Is there a shortage of dark chocolate?

Stores in Denver, Colorado are shockingly short on Dove Dark Chocolate! It's been happening for weeks. While their supplies of Dove Milk Chocolate, Dark Chocolate with Almonds - and every other concievable variety is plentiful... the shelf space dedicated to Dove Dark Chocolate either sits empty or is filled with something not as fabulous as Dove Dark.

I'm worried there's going to be a run on Dark Chocolate. Is this related to the impending recession? What shall we do?

My boyfriend and I each keep a couple bags of Dove Dark Chocolate in our freezers (it's so good cold!) We usually head to the store to buy two bags at a time. However, for the past few weeks we've been on a wild goose chase.

What is happening? Should we be concerned? Is there any way to help?

Sincerely, and with great concern,

TRS

Me in (not) my underwear!

You've probably seen the commericals featuring actress Sarah Chalke promoting Hanes Wedgie free panties. What a dream that would be eh?

Well, every Wednesday - Hanes is offering free panties if you sign up on their website. What girl can't use free undies? So I signed up last Wednesday and they came in the mail this morning.

Uh oh.
See, it's like this - when you sign up you can pick your size, but you don't get to pick the style - which I see as a flaw in their otherwise genius promotion.


Here is what I got.


Briefs. BRIEFS people! Not even 'low rise' briefs. Actual granny panty briefs! Not to mention Pink! Ugh!

I pulled them out of the package and held them up, estimating they would come all the way up to my chest.

Not quite.

Here they are under a casual skirt. Well, not so much under if you want to be accurate!


I guess I'll take them over to Goodwill (in the box of course! Don't worry, I tried them on with my own undies as a barrier). Maybe there is a sweet little 80 year old who will think they're perfect for her.


I mean no ill will to Hanes. Anyone who has a mission of wedgie prevention is clearly doing the Lord's work. And offering free panties is generous.


In fact, I bought a package of their bikini style wedgie-free undies a few weeks ago and they are quite fabulous.
I can't say entirely wedgie free - but that's my own fault.

Of course we all know the only way to keep undies from riding up your butt cheeks is to have rock solid buns.
I remember those days. I thought I'd found all the world's greatest panties... turns out it was my @ss! Can you get it back after 35 and beyond?
Hey, if anyone else got their free sample... let me know if they sent any other styles out! I'm curious if they are only sending briefs or they are doing random styles and random colors.

But I Want to Save the World!!!

Recently I have learned that Scooters (you know, Vespa - Honda - etc.) get 100 miles per gallon. PER GALLON! 100 Miles!

Makes me sick to my stomach that my fully paid off, fully insured, trusty tank of a Chevy gets around 20 - 23 miles per gallon. Ugh. (Please don't tell my car that I called her a tank. Seriously. She'll be peeved. You know you're beautiful darling! I NEVER said any such thing!!)

Now that gas has topped $4 a gallon, I reclaimed my bike from my boyfriend's storage unit, determined to make my short trips on the Schwinn.

I've started looking at panniers for my mountain bike.



It might look a little silly. Maybe I need a cruiser - for a back up bike - instead. But I'd really rather have a Scooter. All the short trips I make -- running around between 5 and 10 miles of my home - in the city- on streets that don't exceed 35 mph - it's all really better suited to a scooter than a car.

But I don't have a job right now so it'd be silly to spend $3,000 - $5,500 on a shiny new scooter.

But I hate knowing that I could be using so much less gas. Not for the price of gas but for the environment.

So when I talked to my dad today, I told him about my little dream. I thought since he tools around the farm on a four wheeler that he would be supportive of my desire to protect the environment.

Instead, he laughed out loud. Seriously. Then he proceeded to tell me that I'd get killed on a scooter. Too dangerous.

But Dad, your 10 year old grandson drives the four wheeler all over tarnation!

It has 4 wheels. It's safer. And it's not in traffic.

But Dad, gas is $4.00 a gallon, and scooters make 100 miles per gallon!

It won't save you that much money.

But Dad, that's like 5Xs better than my car! And it's not about the money it's about saving the planet! When I start driving a scooter for the majority of my trips, they won't even have to consider drilling for more oil in the United States.

He laughed even harder. Then he went on to share that my brother's semi truck gets 5 miles per gallon!

OMG! I exclaim. Then I have to have a scooter just to make up for the damage my brother is doing to the world!

Driving a scooter won't offset all the gas that the trucking industry uses.

But Dad, if everyone who lived in the city switched to scooters for small trips - it could! Almost every car on the streets in the city only has one person in it. What a waste! They should all be driving scooters... then the roads would be safer too. It would be all scooters.

Now he's laughing almost hysterically.

So I whimper a little and say, "So you're not going to help me buy one?"

Hell no! More laughter. And if you buy one, I'm going to come out to Denver and take it away from you.

This is where I have to remind everyone that I am 38 years old!!!!

But Dad, I never ask for anything. I can't believe you won't help me save the world.


Disclaimer: Anyone who knows me at all, knows that I would never ask my parents to buy me anything - much less something in that price range! The last thing I asked my parents to fund that entered 1000s of $$$$ was my room and board in college. Yeah, just the room and board.

The conversation documented here did happen - and most of the whiney dialogue was in jest. But I have to admit that I sort of hoped, dad would find the investment sound if not a little quirky and offer to kick in a little bit or at least start shopping classified ads for me!


Anyway, I figure at least now Dad has a good story to tell his friends.

I Think I Just Blew It!

When I met Mr. Burns he wore those washed out, light colored jeans from the 90s. Despite the fact that it was already 2007. When he came to pick me up for dates, I admit I cringed at the jeans.

I remember asking one of the relatively stylish, married guys that I worked with, "At what point can I tell him to buy dark denim jeans?" Paul told me it had to be subtle. Something like pointing out a friend of his or at the store and saying, "Those dark jeans would look really good on you."
Then when he tries them, load on the positive reinforcement.

So that's what I did.

Before long, he went shopping on his own and came back with one light pair, one dark pair. He is an engineer after all, so if there was going to be a change it was going to be gradual.

I oohed and ahhed every time he wore the dark jeans. Now, he wears light jeans when he's working in the field - where he's bound to get dirty. And the MANY pair of dark denim jeans he's accumulated are worn ALL the rest of the time.
Success!

Tonight we met a group of his friends for dinner. The couple who got married in April is moving and this was their send off.
I rarely drink, so when I ordered a beer - Mr. Burns was SHOCKED! I followed with a Mojito. As a result I was fairly tipsy.

The newly married couple was joking about how she seems to be in charge now that they're married. Women all around the table were encouraging this, saying that's the way it should be. One woman said, "Is she smart?" Hubby said, "Hell yeah, she's smart." "THEN DO WHAT SHE SAYS!" came the reply.

On the ride home, I pointed to Mr. Burns jeans and mentioned how much I like them.
Yeah, he likes them too.

I said something like, "Good thing for my influence."
Mr. Burns bristled. "What are you talking about? I bought these myself."
No you didn't. Yes I did. No you didn't. Yes I did.

Oh yeah. He did.
I should have dropped it there - but I said, "Yeah you did, after I influenced you."
"No you didn't."
"Sure." I said. "It had nothing to do with me. You picked them out all on your own."
"That's right."
"It had nothing at all to do with me suggesting it and then telling you how good they look every time you wear them. Yep, I never asked Paul how to get you to buy dark denim jeans."

The light bulb flicked on in his head and I saw on his face he was irritated. Irritated because a minor manipulation had just been revealed. I could almost see the words working through the gears in his head. "I've been bamboozeled! Damn. I thought I would never let a woman get the best of me."
He did not say this - but I saw it on his face.

Then a similar palor drew over my face, as I realized I should never have revealed that I have the keys to manipulate him, even if in a small and harmless way. Oh Damn!

Then I blurted out, "Oh. I shouldn't have told you that. Damn Mojito!"
At that, Mr. Burns laughed. "Truth serum! It finally got you!"

Then he said he's going to wear light jeans from now on just to bug me.

Hot Hot Hot

I don't spend much time mooning over celebrities.

When forced to name a male celebrity that might be capable of making me swoon, I can't come up with the typical Brad Pitt or other standbys.

I pick John Cusack. Kyle Chandler. And Sting.

This drives Mr. Burns batty.

The other night Sting came up in conversation and Mr. Burns... fully bewildered asked, "What is it with women and Sting?"

I don't know. He's just hot.

"Why"

He just oozes sex appeal. It can't be explained.

"I don't get it." says Mr. Burns.

Well then, I say... What is it with men and Shania Twain?

He looks at me.

"I know. " I say. "Shania Twain is smoking hot."

photos from Google Images

Sharing Beautiful Stories

Today was the baby shower for my friend Kristin who is expecting a baby in August.

The hosts of the shower asked everyone to sign and inscribe their favorite children's book and include it with their gift - rather than to include a card.

On one hand, I don't much care for gift giving instructions on invitations - but on the other hand, I had to admit it's a great idea! I'd much rather buy a book than a useless card. Some children's books are more affordable than greeting cards anyway. Most are only twice the cost!

And honestly, which would you cherish more? 20 baby shower cards or 20 incredible books - inscribed with personal messages from people who love you - that you can reflect upon every time you choose a tome to while away the hours with your child throughout the next 20 years?
Easy choice isn't it?

I was eager to share a book that I discovered in my 20s.


Simple title: You Are Special by Max Lucado

I first read it in a Christian bookstore on my lunch break. When I finished, I set the book down in tears!
It's a great message for kids - and it's also great to give to a friend who may be struggling with the way the world is treating her!

The story is about a land of wooden people called Wemmicks who live in a village where they spend each day sticking gold stars and gray dots on one another. Wemmicks get gold stars for doing things well, displaying fine talents, or looking good. They get gray dots if they do something poorly, say something silly or if their wood is scratched or paint is chipped.

One little Wemmick, Punchinello, can't seem to do anything right. He's covered in gray dots and feels badly about himself. One day he meets a Wemmick girl who has no stickers at all! When he asks her how she does it, she sends Punchinello to see the wood carver Eli.

You guessed it. Eli is Punchinello's creator. Eli explains that the stickers only stick if they matter to you. They don't matter to Eli. Eli thinks Punchinello is special no matter what everyone else thinks. Filled with this love and knowledge, Punchinello's gray dots start to fall right off!

A beautiful story about God's love.

When Kristin revealed the title, other moms all oohed and warned, "Have a tissue ready when you read that one!"

Another guest gave her a book I'd forgotten about.

The Tale of Three Trees
This is an amazing story! It's based on a beautiful Christian folklore story of three trees on a hill who had big dreams for themselves.

The first tree aspires to be a treasure chest, inlaid with gold and beautiful jewels and holding the great treasures of a king. The second dreams of becoming a mighty sailing ship carrying important people on adventures throughout the world. The third tree just wants to stand on the hill, grow as tall and beautiful as possible and point to God.

Well, the first tree becomes a feed trough. The second becomes a small fishing boat. And the third is cut down for lumber.

Imagine their disappointment. But can you imagine their true destinies?

Another beautiful tear-jerking story!

One mom said her kid's school performed a play of the Tale of Three Trees, and the teacher asked her to be the narrator. Poor woman had to practice reading it to her dog until she could deliver the story without crying!!

If you are looking for good gifts... these books come highly recommended.

photos from Amazon.com

No. It Isn't Fun

My best friend got married in 2002. Oh did she look beautiful! I never saw anyone smile so broadly as she did when she came down the aisle. It was a glorious day.

In the years since then, prior to my meeting Mr. Burns… she would get so excited every time I had a date. If I actually liked the guy enough for a second date or more she would wistfully say, “Oh, I miss dating. Dating was so much fun.”

This annoyed me to no end. Dating is NOT fun.
It’s tedious.
It’s a chore.
It’s worse than a job interview except it’s supposed to be fun.
It’s a job.
It sucks.
I hate dating.

You obviously don’t remember what dating was like if you recall it as fun.
Setting yourself up for dinner and disappointment every week or two is no joy. When you are in your 30s, you rarely expect a date to go well. It’s just an exercise. Cleaning the bathtub is more rewarding than another first date.

Then I met Mr. Burns, and I finally experienced the wonder and thrill of waiting anxiously to see him again. Expecting his phone call – then hearing his voice on the other end of the line. Learning what he enjoyed. Hearing about his childhood and growing up stories. Recognizing the sound of his car alarm being armed when he parked on my street and I knew he was about to buzz my apartment. So exciting!

When I shared these little thrills with Best Friend she said, “See, I miss dating. Dating was so much fun.”

Oh. This is what you were talking about!
All this time I thought you were talking about the tedium of dating and it just ticked me off when you said that!

Yeah. Dating someone with potential is fun.

Searching through all of those men, looking for potential – sucks. Wasting an evening with a guy – who it turns out – is going to expect you to sleep with him on your next date – even though the connection between you, if any, is weak – lousy.

Over the past year and a half, I have counted how lucky I am not being out there. Mr. Burns and I would turn to each other and say. “I hate dating. I’m so glad I don’t have to do that.” Of course I was thinking “…anymore.”

I had hoped to God that I wouldn’t have to date anymore. Ever.

I know I have mentioned a couple times that I think our relationship is nearly over. I haven’t been able to actually break up just yet.
Part of it is dread that I’ll have to eventually start ‘dating’ again. Ugh.
Part of it is… as I share concerns with him – he is really trying. He’s making a real effort.

But if I don’t see that excitement of ‘having me’ of knowing that I am in his life for good and he’s thrilled by the thought of it – I have to get out. I just don’t think either of us should have to try that hard.

I just can’t bear dating again. The thought of it is worse than any pain or agony of breaking up with this wonderful man in my life

The Buddy System

I had decided when I was 12 that I didn't want to get married before I was at least 27.

My teen years were during the Big 80s. Women had careers. Movies like Baby Boom (Diane Keaton) reinforced the career now - babies later philosophy.

That was my plan. Start the career. Know myself as an adult. Then get married and have kids.

So when I turned 27, I was stunned that the man wasn't already in the scene. I was supposed to date him for a while then get married and have my first kid by age 30.

So when I turned 30 I was really surprised there was no man at the ready.

By 35 I really started to worry. I remember telling my older cousin (old enough to be my parent) that I was worried I might not get married in time to have kids. She scoffed and said, "Well, unless you want to have a kid without a husband there's no sense wasting energy worrying about it."

Okay. So I came to terms with the thought of never having children.

That lasted about a year. Then one day the thought hit me. If I never have kids, I'll never have grandkids... and that's not OKAY! I don't want to become an old woman who has no one to come visit her in the nursing home.

More panic.

Over the years, I sort of settled into the idea that I'll just be alone. Even though I continued to pray and pray for God to make one man (any man - whoever He had in store) ready to become my husband.

Nothing.

Then I prayed from a different place in my heart. Asking God if he didn't have a husband for me - could I at least have a boyfriend?

I realized that I was still asking for something pretty special. This boyfriend would have to be a good man of faith. Someone who realized that sex is for marriage. Someone who could be ideal for a husband - even if a husband wasn't in God's plan for me.

Careful what you pray for.

The hardest part is... I had accepted that I may never get married. Never have kids.

Then I met Mr. Burns and my thinking changed. My thoughts turned to the possibility - maybe just maybe - marriage and family would be for me.

Maybe I was worthy enough to be rewarded with a family of my own.

All the while I remembered the deal I made with God. If there is no husband, a boyfriend. Please.

But then, with Mr. Burns as my boyfriend, I could picture my possible family album. A wedding. A marriage. Months of trying to concieve. Becoming a 40 year old pregnant woman! Good thing I'm still mistaken for a 29 year old! I can picture having a family. Me. A mom!

But now Mr. Burns is proving to be the boyfriend I prayed for. Not the husband. I have to be ready to let go.

Now I have to accept all over again that God wants me to be alone.
Just me and God. A pretty good team. No question.

But for a while there I really, really believed that I might just get it all.
Or at least part of what God seems so eager to hand everyone else.
What plan can He possibly have for me that requires me to be alone?

Let's not even mention the career situation. I can just barely support myself... there's no way I can adopt on my own or even be a foster parent. And I really can't see myself trying to raise a kid without the support of a loving husband.

What on Earth is His plan?!!!

In Case of Fire

Please don't be offended if it seems like I'm talking down to you...

But do you know what to do when you hear sirens? We're all grown up drivers now - but it seems many people don't know what to do when a fire truck or ambulance is on it's way to a call.

It's easy to remember - Go Right For Sirens and Lights!

I'm bringing this up because of recent reports that Denver emergency vehicles are consistently losing 4 Minutes en route to their calls because drivers are not clearing a path.
4 minutes is life-changing! What if you were the one waiting for help?

Let's go over this again.... go right for sirens and lights.
Get in the right lane. Clear the center lane for the emergency vehicle to pass.

I live just four blocks from a fire station - and at least once a week I see an emergency vehicle trying to get through and no one is getting over!

If you are the first at a stop light... and hear sirens... unable to identify where they are coming from just yet..... stay stopped when the light turns green!!! Wait to see where the emergency vehicle needs to go so you can help to keep the path clear. If you are the first car in the left, center most lane... pull ahead past the intersection, get into the right lane and STOP! Be an example!

I figure just posting this here might be enough to get people to mention it to their friends and family and get the phrase fresh in every one's heads, no matter where you live. The life you save could be your own.

While I'm on my soapbox - does Stop - Drop and Roll ring a bell?

I've seen two videos in the last month in which some one's clothes caught fire and they ran around like maniacs.... people swatting at them but no one remembering to smother the flames.

Exhibit A if you will.... http://www.break.com/index/bride-catches-fire.html (it's a Quincenara, not a wedding ... but that doesn't matter)

A rerun of Oprah today featured a woman who was set afire by her abusive husband and while the abuse itself is horrific - one can't help but think that some of the terrible pain and recovery could have been avoided if someone around her had remembered Stop. Drop. Roll.
http://www.oprah.com/tows/pastshows/200605/tows_past_20060503.jhtml

I don't mean to make light of any one's suffering. I want so badly to ensure that more suffering might be avoided.
Get these messages in your head. In your loved one's heads. Teach your kids, your nieces and nephews.
Is this no longer being taught? And if not, why?

She steps off soapbox.

Best Mom in the World!

I got a card from my parents the day after my birthday.

Mom told me that she had it all set to go to arrive on my birthday - Dad was supposed to mail it while she was at work.
Turns out, Dad set it on top of the fridge when he stopped to put his shoes on, then forgot that he was headed to the mailbox in the first place!

It's hilarious how they tattle on each other!

So I knew the card would be a day late - but imagine my surprise when I open the card and out falls a check for the full amount of the cost of the photography class I told mom I wanted to take!! They are so sweet!

I also want to share the card with you all.
It's sweet, and a good reminder for all of us... or if you have children - these are great lessons to raise them on.

Daughter,
Ten Things To Keep In Mind
(to make your life better)

1) Trust Your Instincts.
If it doesn't feel right, it probably isn't... fun, tempting... maybe, but not right.
2) Remember Your Manners.
It doesn't cost you anything, but it speaks volumes about who you are. Having class starts with this.
3) Never let possessions "OWN" you.
It's just stuff! The most valuable things in life - friends, respect, love, knowledge - don't cost money... Hokey but true.
4) Nurture your friendships.
The investment you make in true friends will pay huge dividends all your life - remember, you can't make an old friend.
5) Keep your hands clean.
This means both literally and figuratively... it will save you a lot of regrets later.
6) Believe in yourself.
Yeah this is another hokey one, but you do happen to be the only you in existence, and you're also the only person in the world who can truly hold you back in life... Think about it.
7) Be grateful.
Don't waste all your todays in anticipation of some grand tomorrow. Now is all we've got. Live in it!
8) Treat others the way you want to be treated.
(okay, so I didn't make this one up.) The point is, just because you're smarter or richer or prettier than someone else doesn't mean you're better. It just means you've been more blessed.
9) Always keep playing.
Who says adults have to give up toys? Keep the little kid inside you alive... it keeps your imagination primed. Silly is good.
10) No matter what, you will always be loved.
You don't have to test this one... Just carry it around in your back pocket, and know that, no matter what, you can always come home.

If you can only remember one - Remember that you are loved.

It's My Birthday!

I'm old.

and still single... just as the title of my blog suggests.
Start the annoying music!


Update:

So fun when various friends call all day to extend warm birthday greetings! Two of them always sing me Happy Birthday over the phone! I love that!

Then Mr. Burns came to take me out to dinner. He arrived with a bouquet of beautiful orange tulips (my favorite!)











and a neatly wrapped gift. ( I love that he can actually wrap gifts by himself and they look nice. A lot of men can't do that!) The gift was a card for a 50 minute Warm Stone Massage! Ahhhhhhh. What a man!

The man listens. My back has been really screwy lately and I've mentioned how badly I need a massage but can't really afford one given my state of employment. That's not only a generous but very thoughtful gift!

Then we went out to dinner at my favorite little Indian place... Mmmmmm! After that, as I requested, we went out for Gelato for dessert. I had a scoop each of Pomegranate and Strawberry Rhubarb. MmmmMMMmmmmMMMMmmmmm! Mr. Burns had Chocolate. Probably some sort of double chocolate mocha overdose concoction!

and now... I'm just sick. As I was tinkering with my camera's memory card trying to get a decent picture of my flowers - I accidentally wiped out the last 30 pictures of my dad's birthday party. The pictures of Mom and Dad with all the grand kids... and of Mom and Dad with me and my brother. And - the ones where Dad was dancing with my Sis-in-law and their neighbor.
How cute he looked in his cowboy hat and suspenders dancing like a fool!
Woe is me! I'm just sick about it. Wahhh.

Believable

I've been officially unemployed for the past nine months. My contract ended and the company saw a downturn. No contracts available. The company that had around 200 people working hell bent for leather last year, is now down to about 30 employees. Scary.

So, to the drama of looking for a job that meets my skills and experience - add 170 other people in town with the same specialized skills competing for the same jobs.
On the rare occasion that I get an interview, the people at the prospective company express their condolences for my past position. They know all about the company and in fact, just interviewed 8 people who have that company listed on their resume as well.

Don't expect a call.

I've been working at a part-time minimum wage job since then. Through Divine intervention, I've been able to meet my mortgage payment.

All the jobs I'm targeting seem to want current skills - technologies that weren't even around when my 1992 Bachelor's Degree was issued. Because I was steadily employed, there was no need to learn those new whiz-bang programs. They weren't even necessary in my job.

Here I am in the dust.

During this trying time I have rediscovered my love for photography. It was my first love, but I got distracted by moving pictures and sound and now I'm at the end of that career. Never made any money at it anyway.

People seem to like my photography. And at the part-time job at the portrait studio... I've learned a few tricks for baby pictures and family portraits. More importantly, I've discovered that my personality works very well to coax the best smiles and make parents happy.

I think I'm ready to take a photography class.

I've always been a natural at composition but I need some help learning the technical side. Once I'm armed with that knowledge I'd like to take my show on the road.

It's risky. There's tons of competition. I can't afford to start a studio. Can I run my own business? Scary.

Last night I shared all these concerns with my mom. My desire to strike out on my own. My fear of going to school. (I hate school) Half expecting her to say... "Can't you find a job doing _______ for _______? "

Instead she said, "I think you'd be good at that. You should try it."

You don't think I'm crazy?

"No. I believe in you."

Blink back tears.

"You've always been a hard worker. You've always done well at everything you set your mind to do. I believe in you. I always have."

Choke back tears.

It is one thing to know that your parents support you and believe in you.
It is another entirely to hear them say it aloud. With words. It's so amazing. It is in some way like hearing the voice of God reassuring you that you are on the right path.

That is one of the things I really love about my parents. They never ever even suggested that there was something I couldn't do. That something might be out of reach.
I've always been far more aware of my limits or possible limits than they have.
That is an incredible thing to be able to do for your child. To present the world as a wide open possibility.

Maybe part of that comes from their farm background. You just have to trust that you are doing the right thing with the resources you have and God will provide. They took risks, buying or selling livestock, trying a new crop, buying more land. It was all a risk but they must have always believed it would go well. And it did.

My parents are amazing.
And guess what? I'm believable.

You Gotta be Smarter Than the Box

I'm not a huge fan of most chain restaurants - I'm rarely impressed. I tend to seek out locally owned, original bistros if I have a choice.

But tonight, Mr. Burns was actually in town (He's been working on the road a lot lately) and he picked Austin's and I figured, "Meat" which was all I wanted so off we went to Austin's.

One of today's specials was a pork tenderloin with an apricot sauce or glaze. It's pretty hard to screw up pork and I love me some pig so picture a happy me.

It was all SOOOO good I couldn't believe it.

There were also plenty for leftovers which made me crazy happy. Once the waiter brought me a take-home box I told Mr. Burns, "I'm debating between finishing my mashed potatoes or saving them to take home." Ever the gentleman, Mr. Burns pointed out that he wasn't going to finish his potatoes so I had the best of both worlds! Eat his potatoes and save mine for later!

I quickly scooped my food remains in the take out box, eyeing Mr. Burns plate as if I were still starving.

The takeout box wasn't cooperating. The lid had a goofy little hinge that wouldn't line up properly - so I fumbled trying to close it. Still eyeing Mr. Burns' potatoes - I gave up and handed him the box to close so I could wolf down the last yummy morsel.

As he swiftly managed the closure, I looked at him and said, "I was bested by the box, baby."

He cracked up and said, "Some guys complain about girls who are dumber than a box of rocks. My girlfriend is dumber than the box!"

Um. Let's clarify. It's not a matter of stupidity! It's a matter of patience!

Letting Strangers Run Your House?

We had a lovely brunch at my church this Sunday and I got to see many lovely friends that I rarely see these days.

During our visit, conversation turned to the prospect of renting out their homes to out-of-towners for the Democratic National Convention here in August. One couple said they had considered it and landed on: No!

Mr. Burns turned to me and said, "Baby, I could put you up for a month if you wanted to rent your place for the DNC. You should think about it."

If it hasn't been made clear on this blog - I am - for the first time since college - hard up for money. I haven't had a full-time job for 9 months and my job search is simply depressing. I've been thinking of going back to school. I always hated school.

So the idea of making ... what $3000 or so? - above a monthly mortgage payment for one month doesn't sound so bad. I checked out the DNC Lodging website today : http://www.democraticconventionhousing.com/

Do you think I:













(minus the snow of course) 700 sq ft, one bedroom, 3rd floor walk up. Only amenities a coin-op laundry room and use of the courtyard with BBQ Grill.

can compete with this?

Full amenities, swimming pools, fitness centers, yadda yadda yadda...

Even if I could - it would mean moving out some valuables (not many) clearing out a closet, and praying that these temporary renters don't ding my beautiful credenza or soil my beloved white carpet.

Would you do it?

Found It!

I found my missing ring!

After scouring my (messy) apartment for a day and a half - I found it on my dining room table - under Mr. Burns' car keys.

( I was holding them for him while he was out of town.)

Clearly, if my apartment had looked like this:

at the time... it wouldn't have been missing.

Working hard this weekend to make it look like this again!!

Plain Brown Wrapper

Mr. Burns and I are embarking in a tough time in our relationship.

Collectively, we don't know if there is a future. At the beginning, I was sure I'd finally found my man. But after a year of his uncertainty - now I too am unsure. From where I stand, it seems to come down to his inability to determine whether or not he is in love. He says he's never been there before - and I think that is the root of his problem.

I read a relationship book that I borrowed from a friend. Like most relationship books, it wasn't a whole lot of anything you hadn't figured out on your own if your eyes were open - but still good to remind you, "Ah yes, this is what works and what doesn't and why." So it is helpful from that standpoint.

Upon finishing, I asked Mr. Burns to read it. I thought it would open up some discussions.
At first he asked when he possibly had time to read it.
I apologized for the purple, cursive, flowery cover.
Then I offered to make a plain book cover for it. He laughed.
I actually did cut down a brown paper grocery bag - fashioned a cover like the ones we made in school - then wrote on the front "Plain Brown Wrapper".

I teased him that I would write, "Porn" on the cover so that he could carry it confidently in the airport. Ha! *

Well, when he landed the first day of his trip he told me he was three chapters in. He even pointed out the biggest concern that I shared from those first chapters.
This is progress! I thought. I was so pleased that he was willing to read the book. It seemed like a good step considering the let-down surrounding my visit home (see post below)

I picked Mr. Burns up from the airport last night. He started a conversation about the issues in the book! Wow!
He also said he wanted to finish the last few chapters.

Dear Lord, I was right. I knew if we could land on a common language to speak - we might get somewhere. He's better able to see things from my perspective. And in all fairness... I need to learn to see his perspective, but I need his help to show me. That too is where the book is helping.

Now I'm not saying this is some sort of magic book. All I'm saying is... beginning with our great ability and desire to communicate openly - and then adding a common language and topics to discuss - there is progress.
Most of all, I am touched by his willingness to both read the book, (how many guys would groan about THAT?!) and to discuss it. Yay.


* please do not infer in any way that I condone porn. Mr. Burns also, would never read or engage in porn. That is part of the joke.

Where can it be?

Every night before bed I take off my wrist watch and a little garnet ring and put them in a pewter dish. Like my habit with my keys, they never land anywhere else. Ever.

Last night I fell asleep in the living room. I woke up around 3:00 am on the living room floor! (I wasn't drunk or anything!) It took every fiber of my being to get myself up and put myself to bed. I have no idea why.

I know I didn't even stop in the bathroom to wash my face or brush my teeth!
I remember waking at some point in the early morning to take off my wrist watch as it was uncomfortable. I found it right next to me on the nightstand this morning.

Mysteriously, I cannot find my ring.

I don't remember taking it off. I thought maybe I'd find it between the sheets of my bed - indicating that I took it off sometime before the watch - but it's not there. I even emptied out the drawers of my nightstand and searched under my bed with a flashlight hoping for a glimmer of silver. Nothing.

In the living room, I ran my fingers over my shag rug. I looked under the cushions of the couch. I checked inside the medicine cabinet in the bathroom - in case I took it off while I brushed my teeth which I don't remember doing.

It's not valuable. It's just a simple little ring that I bought for $7 ten years ago. I wear it on my right hand, ring finger. It's not even special.
I'm not much of a jewlery person - it just so happens that this is the only ring I've ever had that hasn't lost a stone, tarnished or gotten lost - until now.
It's the only ring that I think looks decent on my hands that hasn't lost a stone, tarnished or gotten lost - until now.

No. It's not valuable. But for ten years I've recieved countless compliments on it's simple beauty. And my right hand feels naked without it.
Maybe it is special.

Not in MY House

As we were driving to Mr. Burns' favorite Chinese Restaurant last night, we found ourselves behind a small pickup truck.

Its' tiny cargo bed was laden with a huge big screen TV. Mind you, not a nice new large flatscreen - no - one of those big boxy TVs, taller than I - nearly as wide and deep as it is tall.
The kind that is like having a queen size bed standing on end in your living room.

I turned to Mr. Burns and said, "Somewhere, a few blocks away you just know there's a woman standing in the doorway saying 'That thing is NOT coming inside this house!' "

Rough Ride

I've had the same mountain bike for 17 years. The entire time, I've only ridden it on city streets and paved bike trails.


Today, I took the baby to a mountain for the first time!!

I am so terribly out of shape. I pushed my bike up the trails most of the way. Mr. Burns is much stronger and would ride ahead a bit, then wait for me to catch up with my bike. On the positive side, pushing my bike made it a full body workout rather than just cardio and legs!


I've never ridden single track before and the trails are narrow (about a foot to 18 inches wide) and many rocks.
This picture may be a bit deceiving - there is a lot of gradual incline/ switchbacks to get up - and much wide open, flat area on the mesa.


At the top, where I didn't have to fight with incline, it was a bit easier to navigate. Mr. Burns would shout back about how fun the trail was. I was still nervous about the terrain and yelled, "This is dangerous and hurty!"

When we leveled out I had much more fun - riding fast, flying over bumps and rocks and proving to myself that I could control my bike.

(I'm still a bit gun-shy since the great bike crash of 2004)


When we finally rode back down my bravery kicked in and the rocks didn't seem like such big obstacles. Although I was a little afraid of the narrow tracks combined with speed. I was afraid I would bounce right out of a track (I use the term: rut) and end up crashing.


Mr. Burns rode ahead, and on one significant hill I found myself faced with a jackknifed front tire. It had bounced out of the track and I was airborne. As I flew over the handle bars I said aloud, "Yep, just like that..." that's what I was afraid of.

Not a bad crash.
Mr. Burns was already over the next hill and out of sight. I sat in the brush for a bit and called for him twice before I realized he was out of earshot. Finally, I pulled myself to my feet and mounted my bike again. It was a little screwed up - so I had to push it to meet Mr. Burns. When I finally saw him, I told him I needed help with the bike - kinda proud of my injury free crash.


Here's to firsts! It was scary, but it was fun.

I think brush is more forgiving than concrete. And I think my bike finally feels a bit sexy - having fulfilled the destiny of being called a Mountain Bike!

What a Chore

I can't think of many things I hate more than washing dishes.

I hate it so much that I usually wait til there is nothing left to eat from - before resorting to doing dishes. At this point I should tell you that I don't have a dishwasher. Not since four apartments ago.

The one person who shares my hatred for the task of dishwashing is my friend Kimberly. We love and hate most of the same things. That's a true friend!
We both love older buildings, so we both end up in tiny little apartments with no dishwasher.

A couple years ago I made the rare journey out to visit her in San Francisco. Her apartment was so cute... with a tiny little kitchen so small you could almost work all the appliances from one standing position - just turn yourself around! Her kitchen was decorated so cute, with deep red paint on the walls - matching dishes arranged just so on the open shelving. And a small pile of dishes in the sink. As she gave me a little tour of her apartment she apologized for the mess in the sink and mentioned what a hard time she was having getting around to doing the dishes.

When she excused herself to go take a shower, I decided to fill the sink with water and clear up the dishes. Somehow, the work you hate the most is not only less dreadful, but bearable when you do it for someone you love.

When she returned to the kitchen, I tried to hide my smug expression as she surveyed her empty sink.
"Did you wash my dishes? You are not allowed to wash my dishes. No." she said sternly, as if scolding a dog with a favorite sandal in it's mouth.
Then she hugged me warmly as she said, "Thank you. That is the nicest thing you could have done for me. Just don't do it again."

Alone. Again. As Always

It's nearly a ten hour drive from Denver to my parent’s home. That's including gas stops, potty breaks and naps. My sister in law claims she drove it in eight hours. But she had her whole family for company. Such a long drive with no conversation, no company – well – it’s hard to stay awake. So for my own sanity and for the safety of everyone else on the interstate, I usually stop for a 20 minute nap around halfway through the drive.

That's why, when I came back from a visit last summer I told Mr. Burns that I was never making that trip again alone. From now on I expect him to be with me.

When my brother planned the big surprise party for dad's birthday I was so excited that this would be the first trip back with Mr. Burns at my side. It would be a great opportunity to finally introduce him to my parents. And because many of our relatives would be there, he'd meet everyone important to me!

Shortly after we set the plans for the party, Mr. Burns got a finalized schedule for his work travel schedule. It overlapped dad's party. Mr. Burns couldn’t go.

At the same time, the travel schedule put him 5 hours North of my parent's town. If he was done with the work assignment by Saturday, it was conceivable that he could rent a car and drive down. Then we could drive back to Denver together.

We talked about it as I was driving and finally about three hours from my destination. At that point he knew he would be off on Saturday. His field work is exhausting. Even when he gets to fly home, he's a pile of mush just yearning for his own bed. I didn’t really want him to have to drive 5 hours in that condition. Moreover, if he's worn down it's not the optimal circumstance to introduce him to my folks and then subject him to a crowd of 70 strangers.

He also made a crack that he considered surprising me anyway, but that I ruined it by discussing it. Ha ha. For the rest of my drive I thought about it some more. A woman with hours of free thought is a dangerous thing.

Early in our relationship I had told him that, judging by the successful marriages I knew of, the key is for the man to know that he’s found the woman he wants and fight for her. I told him that a man has to convince a woman that he knows without a doubt that she is the woman for him. Sometimes it comes down to the ‘Grand Gesture’.
Mr. Burns took that to heart and has since expressed concern that he doesn’t believe he’s doing that with me. That he hasn't done a lot of convincing. And sadly, it's true. But that's another story.

Anyway, as I drove the final few hours of my journey I thought, "If he leaves in the morning he could get to my folks house by noon or 1:00. I could introduce him to mom and dad and then he could take a good nap and be ready for the party at 5:00. Yeah. That would work. Is it asking too much? Well, I would do it for him. It’s no small favor. It would definitely be a 'grand gesture.'" Now I was convinced that this was the way it should go. I tried to call him that night but he was still on site at work. I couldn’t reach him, so I built a fantasy in my head where he was planning to rent a car and surprise me.

We missed each other's phone calls until Saturday morning when he called to tell me he had just landed in Denver. "Oh. So much for my fantasy." I told him.

Mom and I ran around getting balloons and cake and other goodies for the party. At 5:00 we were poised for the surprise. I spent the evening talking to relatives I only see at weddings and funerals. They all asked about my job (I don’t have one) and about my boyfriend (he’s not here) and I found myself in the uncomfortable position of being alone. again. as always. Damn. I’m almost 38 and I think I’ve finally found the man for me and here I am at a big event alone. It was very similar to the horror and overwhelming solitude that I felt attending dozens of weddings without a date. Excruciating. (thank God I can arm myself with my camera - it is both a conversation starter and an escape clause.)

Then I had another 10 hour drive back to Denver. More thinking.

Did I expect too much. No. I don’t think so. When his dad died last summer, I told him I would catch the next plane out to the east coast to be by his side if he wanted me there. He didn't. He didn’t think it would be a great time to introduce me to his huge family while they were grieving. What if they forever associated me with the saddest day of their lives?

Thanksgiving was the first holiday without his dad so he didn’t want to introduce me to his family then – so I stayed home. Christmas we both stayed in Denver. Finally, I went with him to his friend’s wedding in Atlanta. With all this time to think it’s becoming clearer and clearer that he’s holding me at arm’s length.

When I finally saw him again, Monday night I told him that I really needed him there with me at dad’s party. I am so done being alone. He said he was sorry he didn’t come.

What now? Am I alone in this relationship? It certainly feels that way.

That's Not the Way I do it.

One of the top things on my pull-my-hair-out-before-I-resort-to list is moving my computer desk to access the many plugs and adapters on the back of my computer tower.

The reason:
I converted a good-sized closet into a small 'office' so that my desk didn't have to reside in my living room or bedroom. As a result, moving the desk is a major undertaking. It causes me undo stress. Just ask my friend Ben or Mr. Burns for that matter.


Today, as I was tinkering around on the Internet, I noticed that I wasn't getting audio when I clicked a couple different video links. I checked out my speakers and they were on - up - and otherwise functioning.

Mr. Burns used my computer yesterday to finish up some homework - and he remarked that the line to the mouse was too taut - so I figured he might have pulled the plug to the speaker out when he was pulling on the mouse cord.

Sigh.

So I pulled my hair out then resorted to pulling my desk out of it's alcove. While I was mid-way through this endeavor my phone rang with Mr. Burn's familiar pre-programmed ringtone - or as he calls it the Pavlovian signal! When he asked what I was up to I told him, "I'm doing the unspeakable." then explained my theory that the speaker plug pulled out and I was moving my desk to plug it back in.

He knew that wasn't a good sign!

Once I had a clear view of the back of the tower - it was clear that the plug was still in place. Hmm. I muttered, "I guess those speakers are pretty old. Maybe they're dead."

"Oh." said Mr. Burns. "You know what it is? I turned your speakers to MUTE while I was there. Sorry I didn't tell you."

WTH? Who does that?! I never click through the countless little gidgets all over the computer to find the one dinky feature that does what I can do with my finger - turn the volume down! Or switch the speakers off! What?!

Clearly, Mr. Burns approaches things differently than I. For him it's perfectly natural to scroll through a list of a million different features to find one little button.

I, on the other hand, skip all those steps and go straight to the horse's mouth and flip the actual - tangible button! Yes I know I'm mixing metaphors!

Oh - he owes me for making me resort to the unspeakable!

FYI - the reason I pull my desk out rather than pull the computer tower out of it's slot - is because I have all the cords in back neatly arranged and 3M'd (is that a term?) to the back of the desk. That way the cords don't tangle and the dust bunnies have to be orderly back there. As a result there is no slack in the cords to pull the tower forward.

Mr. Burns learned this the hard way. Last year for my birthday he bought me memory for my computer. Installing it was also the gift. He grumbled and swore a little bit as he tried to pull the tower forward. I said, "I usually pull the desk out and access it from behind." Thinking that was enough information to get him to change his tack.

He continued to pull it out the front kvetching and moaning all the way. I got increasingly irritated.

Finally after it was all over and he was sufficiently P.O'd I said, "That's why I move the desk out. The cords are all tethered on the back of the desk."

And that's how couples learn to communicate!!

Come to think of it... that's why the mouse cord was too taut. Because he pulled it out of it's carefully arranged 3M position when he installed the memory. I fixed that while I was back there too.

I could have danced all night...

Mr. Burns and I just returned from his friend's wedding down South.

Oh... I was so envious to see all the green trees and beautiful blooms! Denver has taken forever to green up. Finally upon return, the trees are now budding and blooming. Yay! Although I'm still waiting for the lilacs to come around.

Anyway, back to the wedding. It was so great to take another trip with Mr. Burns. He's been working out of town a lot lately, and if I hadn't been able to go to the wedding with him, I would not have seen him for three weeks straight! Boo hoo.

Plus, the wedding was a full Catholic Mass. It was really nice to sit with my beloved and soak up the nuptials that I hope will bind and/or bond me to him someday. No one is holding their breath!

The reception was at a nearby country club so Mr. Burns was content in soaking up the surrounding golf greens!

It should be noted that Mr. Burns is a very good dancer. He's good at everything he tries in an athletic sense. He once revealed that he took some dance lessons years ago, just so he would know what he was doing on the dance floor. As is his nature - he held all the information and is good at it. An area where we are not similar!!!

I can't make out rhythm. People tell me to listen for the beat or the count and I just can't do it.

I recall my music appreciation class in college - one of those classes everyone takes for an easy A. The instructor one day, played a piece of classical music and asked us to identify the instruments we could hear. Now I can make out a piano or a guitar - so imagine my surprise when one student said, "I hear an Oboe." BS! I thought, "You don't hear an Oboe. You might hear a horn but don't tell me you can hear that it's a freaking Oboe." Well apparently other people can. Sigh. I can say that's horn or those are strings - but mostly I hear the entire song -not the pieces that make up the song.

So anyway -that's what I blame for my inability to dance. Now, if someone teaches me steps, I'll get it, but I haven't had lessons since college so I pretty much stink.

Mr. Burns says that the man's job on the dance floor is to make the woman look good. If he's doing his job, no one should notice him. He's also incredibly patient - and I started to remember some of the moves from my swing dance days in college.

Better still, I picked out yet another new dress - this one with a twirly skirt that must have moved gracefully as he spun and dipped me - disguising the fact that my feet didn't know what they were doing!!

That and the fact that the cheerful, vibrant Granny Smith Apple Green hue of my dress was bright and attention grabbing - Mr. Burns said that every time we danced - at least two cameras were on us!

Well, that's a bit embarrassing! I hope there are more pictures of the bride dancing than of me dancing!! Maybe the color is too bold for a wedding - but I try not to wear black or red to a wedding - and because this color reminds me distinctly of a tulip stem - the prettiest color on Earth - I couldn't resist it.

I had so much fun dancing with Mr. Burns. It was romantic. As he turned me around the dance floor, I fell in love with him a little bit more. In his arms, he guided me, twirled me and thrilled me with dips and spins and turns. I hope we have a lifetime of learning how to move together as one.

Deserving

I was in Ulta the other day, and as I was ready to pay for my purchase "Suddenly I See" by KT Tunstall started to play.

The music is peppy and gets my attention right away. The line, "Everything around her is a silver pool of light - the people who surround her feel the benefit of it - it makes you calm - she holds you captivated in her palm." Always reminds me of my friend Kimberly.

I couldn't help but sing along a little, and because I was smiling broadly with thoughts of my dear friend - the cashier looked at me inquisitively. So I offered the information of what the song means to me... then the refrain with that line was up again... I sort of recited it for her.

The cashier smiled and said, "She must be a wonderful friend."
"She is." said I. "I am blessed with many wonderful friends. I don't know how I deserve them."

And this is when people surprise you - This cute little college-student cashier, wise beyond her years said, "Oh, I'm sure you do deserve them. You must be a wonderful friend to have such wonderful friends."

What a note of cheer for the rest of my day!