Handyman Love

What is it about a handyman husband that can fix all your stuff when it breaks down? Why do I find that so sexy?

It must be a throw back to when females chose their mates by their ability to provide, to hunt down the wooly mammoth and consistently put meat on the table.

He has skills.  

A man that can fix things.  

Successfully.  

Be still my heart.

Replacing things are costly. When he fixes the lawn mower, the toaster, my micro tape recorder, the washer, my hot rollers, the car, the plumbing, and my sewing machine, he saves us hundreds upon hundreds of dollars. Yeah, baby!

It's such a gift when something you think is dead and gone is suddenly restored and handed back with pride and love. When he says,"Let me see what I can do about that." My heart beats a little faster.

That's damn sexy.

Random Happiness

I love being around little kids. The four to six year old set are the best. If only I could shrink down to their size and run around like a nut like they do, that would be heaven.

I held our annual Valentine' s parents night out and kid's sleep-over at our school. The school becomes an indoor playground and we set it up so there's cool stuff to do in every corner.  One of my five year old students, Maya, came running up to me and said, "This is the best time I've ever had in my whole life! In My Whole Life!"  I take being the highlight of any child's day as a real compliment, but of their whole existence. Now we're talking.

Speaking about highlight of the day, Smokey the dog was not left behind. Since he is our guest for three months, we didn't feel right leaving him home alone for so long. Besides he seems to me to be a dog that would like a good party. So Smokey went to the sleep-over too. With six Lil' Dragons constantly on his tail lavishing love and attention, he had a great time. He slept all day the next day. That's what happens when you party too much.

Speaking of partying, I plan to be celebrating this weekend for so many random reasons, yet still connected.

First:  Road Trip. Yeah!
QueenMaker and I will be hitting the road and I love it. A short road trip, only four hours, but enough time to have great conversations, break out some jams and a gigantic bag of trail mix.

Second: Going to Chicago.  Sweet!
Beginning to like this city more and more, except for the surprising thirty-one dollar parking fee. We've been to the Historic Museum, to the Aquarium, had Chicago style pizza, and checked out the University of Chicago. My son moved there almost six months ago, long enough to explore what the city has to offer. We're going to Chinatown, a jazz club, and checking out a Frank Lloyd Wright home in the area. We're looking forward to his tour.

Third:  My Son, Beloved.  (blinking back the tears)
My one and only and I miss him dearly. This is our reason for going, to see our son. Our friendship with him continues to grow. Since our parent/child relationship is partially behind us, we hope that he continues to turn to us not only as his parents but as his dear friends as well.

Fourth:  Permanent Full Time Employment. Yeah!
Beloved has been discovered!  He has part-time employment at a bookstore and was hired as a coffee barista, but he works in all the departments when needed.  His store is closing so he's been worried about finding a new job. A woman customer noticed that he was everywhere it seemed at once. She complimented on his excellent customer service and his willingness to help out his fellow co-workers.  And then she offered him a job. Full-time employment with benefits and a raise in pay.  Woo-hoo!

Fifth: My Wedding Anniversary! Kisses.
This is why I picked this weekend to go see our son. To celebrate our love, to celebrate what our union gave us, Beloved, and to celebrate the many years of happiness we have shared.



Speaking about happiness we have all shared, head over to Keely's UnMom and read the tales of the more random happiness happening over there.

Distracted Bitch - And It's Not My Dog

In this edition of Random Tuesday Thoughts, a secret is revealed, eccentric persona emerge, a geological phenomena simile. "Cats! Dogs! Living together...!", metaphors for life, and a husband gets a break.





Here's a little secret.  I've changed.

Inside this sweet, fuzzy warm, very loving person  I've become, was once a hardened, seething, anguished waiting-to-pounce bitch. She doesn't appear anymore.

Okay. Maybe a couple days of the month, she reappears, but really just a mere shadow of her past self and only for minutes at a time. Really. Take my word for it. She's hardly recognizable anymore.   Right Honey?

Now, where did he go?

But like the newly formed volcano, erupting angry lava carelessly in its youth, years and years of trials and tribulations, experience and wisdom have cooled down the exterior. It hibernates in the depths, underneath cool waters and spring meadows. No longer recognized as a volcano. Really.  Believe me. It's true.

But occasionally steam does rises. It's sounds like a slow hiss.

And it sounds like a cat's hiss.  And I am very much a cat. And cats usually don't get along with dogs.

Smokey, our temporary dog boarder, just wants to be loved. And loved. And loved. And loved.

His exuberance and "love-me" eyes were hard to resist, but now when I come through the door I find it maddening. So I have taken to ignoring his requests for instant affection gratification. Later on, he will insist that ignoring him is just out of the question. So I relent.

Now I'm not one that likes things that are too needy. Girlfriends who need to be pacified too much, boyfriends that need constant validation, folks that are touchy feel-y, arm tappers, wide-eyed dramatic people (besides myself), and delusional love starved dogs.

Because They. Want. Too. Much. And since I don't have the personality or fortitude to give it to them, I feel slightly guilty and put upon, and seriously, who needs that?

So the dog and I have been going through a ritual, a one sided conversation where I tell him all the things I won't do for him.  Telling him to stop watching me.  To quit following me around the house all the time. Don't you dare lick me. That I recognize his ploy of bringing me his toys. Interrupting conversations by chomping on his squeaky toy. That this is MY food and I'm not sharing. Sure he gets the occasional display of affection. But  I let him know that I am not going to sit there and pet him for hours.

As the dog and I were going another round, QueenMaker looks at Smokey and gratefully says:

"Dog, you don't know how happy I am to have you here."

Touche.  QueenMaker.  Touche.



So off you go to Keely's for more random happenings and distractions.  You'll find a lovely group of personalities there that you'll want to get to know. They don't seem too needy either.  Awesome.

Planning a Surprise Party Takes Over Your Life

Well hello there, Random Tuesday Thoughts.  I have so much random stuff to tell you, especially after the weeks of adrenalin rushes, trials and tribulations, and random stuff that happens to you when you are trying to put together a surprise birthday party.



Surprise parties are hard to give, especially when you live with the person who is supposed to be the surprisee. The idea popped in my head about a month ago. Once I got the go ahead from my sister, she's letting me use her home for the party, I made a time chart. I made lists and lists. I planned and strategized. Timing was everything.

Then you start lying, and lying, and lying. Damn. I didn't bargain for this part of the plan. I needed to make up stories as to why I was going to my sister's so much. Why was I making so much food? Why was I doing all the work? Why did he have to go anyways? Who was going to be there? Why was my sister throwing this event?  This lying part was getting to me.

The universe can be very helpful during times like this. One, QueenMaker and I had argued, so we weren't too communicative. Two, the day before the party, he was called away to a late afternoon meeting. Then the universe somehow gave him a second meeting to go to right after the first one and he wasn't expected home until midnight.

Yahoo! I finished cooking, did some last minute shopping, and took everything to my sister's. He didn't suspect a thing and the party was a great success.

Then the universe does random stuff that can hinder you when you are trying to keep a secret. The week of the party, when I'm doing the final push to get everything ready, QueenMaker decides to take one of our cars into the shop for repairs.
"But I NEED a car this week."
"Why, we can drive together."
Mayday! Mayday! I might need to borrow a car!

Luckily it was done the same day.

Then we had to give a presentation to a local elementary girl scout troop called Stranger Smart, which took much longer than I thought it would. I have to say it was a blast, the girls were terrific, artistic, and super fun. But time was a tickin' and I needed to get out of there.

Then all week, I was deflecting our four to eight year old students that kept running up to
QueenMaker to ask about his party. I'd cover with, "Isn't that cute? They want to give you a party at the school."

By Friday, my head was swirling, running lists in my head, running around with last minute errands. I had a premonition the day before, when I thought, I better keep focused because I'm driving. It's not good to be so scattered. It's the perfect time to get a ticket.

Then my mother called me to ask if I would pick up her prescription.  Dear me! So I added that to the list and hurried to pharmacy.

I was so distracted I thought, I REALLY SHOULD NOT be driving right now. And the police officer driving behind me felt the same way. A yield sign was recently replaced with a new stop sign a few weeks ago near the pharmacy. "Remember," I thought to myself.  But two seconds later, I rolled slowly past it, merging in front of a police cruiser.

I wholeheartedly agreed and admitted to him that I had just rolled past a stop sign. He took pity on me and thanked me for my honesty and instead of the 3 points and $500 fine for going through a stop sign, he gave me a ticket for impeding traffic, only $135 fine, no points. I have to thank the man. He probably saved my life.

Damn this party is costing me more and more. Not only do I get to add another $135 to the tab, but my brain cells are fried, my body is working on fumes, and I've lied more in one week than in my whole life.

The adrenalin drop was profound. I've been in high gear for two weeks, trying to keep twenty balls in the air at the same time. Every spare second was used to its fullest. I planned, strategized, worked, cooked, lied, covered every contingency, then when it was all over, I crashed. I slept for two days.

The only thing is that the party was over so quickly. I didn't get to visit as much as I wanted. I was stuck in the kitchen. Everyone got there at 6:30pm and three hours later, they were gone. Where did they all go?  Where's the "party 'til you drop" mentality I was hoping for?  Are we all getting that old? Sigh.


Go visit Keely at UnMom.  The party is still going on strong and not a fuddy-duddy in the whole group.

Travel Companions

I have found over the years that I love traveling with my husband. Whether that be running around doing our weekly errands or a weekend road trip.


The two of us tooling down the road ready for high adventure, even if the adventure is just driving to the local fruit market. Always prepared, Queen Maker packs cold water and coffee. On longer excursions there are oranges, apples and sometimes trail mix and jerky. We bring our own coffee bean and coffee maker just to make sure we have an amble supply of the luscious brew.

The car is a comfortable traveling sanctuary.  We talk and talk. We listen to great music. We munch and crunch all the way down the highway. Rarely does either one of us sleep on long road trips. We take turns pulling out our notebooks writing down our thoughts and ideas. We are quiet together too.

A car meant adventure. We're on the road and who knows what the road will bring. Adventure was possible. Yes there were flat tires. I cried when I locked the keys in the car at a Kentucky rest stop. Almost running out of gas. Bad hotels and even worse restaurants.

We once found the only restaurant in the Western Hemisphere that could make a breakfast taste awful. Before we went into the restaurant, I made the mistake of saying, "How can you ruin breakfast? It's just two eggs, potatoes, and toast." Well, it can be done.

But there were also the unexpected little restaurants with atmosphere and great food. Lovely evenings in our hotel room. The crowd that gathered at the rest stop to help sooth me and help retrieve my keys. The Michigan State Trooper who changed our tire for us. The massive brown eagle we saw on the road. The surprising rest stop with a path to two gorgeous waterfalls and a small box canyon.

A car meant freedom. When we borrowed our parents' car, we felt freedom for a few hours. And when we  got older and could afford our own, freedom was complete.

A car is a time machine. Only Brother described the car as a time machine and I understood what he meant immediately. Queen Maker and I used to ride our bikes or walk everywhere. Distance didn't matter much to us. We rode our bikes miles and miles. We walked four miles a day to each other's house. A car was a time machine that gave you back minutes. It cut down travel time and returned them to you, allowing you to go further and get there faster.

So a rode trip is in our future. We haven't been on one for a long time. We were thinking about flying to our destination. An airplane might be the ultimate time machine but right now, it doesn't sound attractive at all.

So we will pack up our car with all the comforts of home, with the things we love to eat and hear and drink. We will listen to each other carefully. We'll marvel at the landscape. And the coffee will be flowing. We will enjoy each other's company and hold hands for miles and miles and miles.

Aging - One Lemon, One Lemonade

One Lemonade:

I've worn glasses since the first grade. I'm very nearsighted and my eyesight has progressively gotten worse over the years. My range of vision has gotten shorter and shorter that I feel more comfortable taking off my glasses and bringing whatever I'm working on right up to my nose.

But aging also means that now I need bifocals. Stupid aging. I hate you. I can't bring things right up to my nose anymore. I loathe the whole bifocal experience. But when I remove my glasses, my range of clear vision is now at a range of only 5 inches to 10 inches from my face.

QueenMaker is farsighted and also needs reading glasses. But because of that stupid aging thing, his range has diminished quite a bit as well. His range of clear vision is from 24 to 30 inches.

After hugging me the other day, he extended his arms and held me far enough away so he could see me clearly.


Me: You mean you can't see me clearly?

QM: Nope, can't see you at all. I mean I can see you, but not clearly.

Me: You mean that you can't see my face. It's blurry?

QM: Right. You have to be at least two feet away before I can see your face clearly.

Me: You mean no matter how old I look, you can't see the wrinkles or lines on my face?

QM: Right. Not up close at least. And really, not far away either because at 24 o 30 inches your facial features aren't as prominent at that distance. It's like you have a soft filter on your face.

Me: You mean like in the movies? That means you will always see me in your mind's eye as I was, not as I am. I will always be youthful and beautiful, with a soft glow. 

QM: I guess that's true. 

Me: Yahoo! What a perk. That makes me so happy. I could be an old hag, with a giant pimple or wart on my nose and you wouldn't know the difference would you?

QM: No. But I'm sure someone would warn me or something.

Me: Yahoo! Just think of it. You can't see me aging and I can't really see you aging either. That takes a load of my mind. I will from this time forward be timeless.


I danced merrily out of the room to look for a mirror.



One Lemon - When lemonade gets turned back into sour lemons, the flip-side.

My 49 year old sister who SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER, decided to go sledding with her 11 year old daughter. Everything went well the first five runs down the hill until on the sixth, when her sled hit a giant bump. She landed on her tailbone and compressed three of her disks. She is in agony.

Apparently it is a common injury that could have been very serious, in some cases causing paralysis. After some research on the internet, she said, "I should have checked the internet first before I went sledding."

Shouldn't we all check with the internet before we do anything?

Seriously. As a middle aged woman, shouldn't she know that speeding uncontrollably down a hill is never a good idea? Doesn't she remember that summer when her rollerblades caught the edge of a driveway and sent her hurdling forward, cracking both elbows? She had to wear casts that rendered her helpless. She walked around with her arms in a perpetual, "This is a hold up! Hands in the air!" kind of position. She couldn't feed, dress, or wipe herself for weeks.


Remember people. The body hates impact. It will make you pay.



So if you’re into high impact or prefer softer speed bumps, sled on over to Keely’s, oh sorry, I mean Bitchin' Wives Club, for some high speed and invigorating Random Tuesday Thoughts, but put your glasses on first.

The Day I Became a Queen

I walked into the choir room excited because today the choir would be rehearsing with a live band.  Just as I sat down I spied the guy on the drums and caught my breath.  I couldn't take my eyes off of him. Who was he?  I needed to know.  I never experienced such a "hit" before.  Why was my heart racing?  I figured he must be a college student, I knew I would never see him again.  Oh, well.

A few weeks later,  the school had to rearrange classes and homerooms.  I walked into my new class and there he was, blond, blue-eyed, long hair, and ready smile. And he was smiling at me.  His seat was behind mine.  He kept talking aloud to himself "really to me" so I could turn around and ask him to be quiet.  Over and over again.

One day, I heard the words, "A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse."  So I looked through my book and found a picture of a great bronze horse, turned and said, "Here, my lord.  A bronze horse.  Now be quiet, would you please."

As I turned back to my book, he said, "Now my lady, I give you all I have. My kingdom is yours. You are now my queen."

Thrilled to my toes at such a proclamation, I wondered what the kingdom of a fifteen year old boy would look like.

37 Valentine's Days later, the thrill is still there, the passion is still there, and when we look into each other's eyes, we are still fifteen.  He has been true to those words he spoke so many years ago. He took a shy, self-deprecating young girl and made her feel like a beautiful queen. Over and over.

Thus his name, I knighted this angel of mine, QueenMaker.

Now onto more Valentine's Day Spin Cycles that will  make your heart sing.

Missing Oneness

My guys are coming home.  QueenMaker and Beloved have been gone a week now.  They boarded a plane westward on a business trip. They also took a few days to see Redwood trees and visited Crater Lake.  They were looking forward to their trip as father and son.  They haven't spent much time alone before and as Beloved said, "This will be the first time we are going together as grown men.  I think I can be considered a grown man, don't you think Mom?" "Yes, baby. You're a grown man."

I get to experience the day on a totally different timetable.  I still take care of our business, but my days are less structured. When there is no one waiting at home I'll wander. I'll hang around.  I'll stay put longer. I'll stop at a bookstore. My day is mine to do what I wish.  I eat when I want and visit family and friends without looking to see if it's time to go home.

Of course, knowing this, my family has made all kinds of plans for me.  I don't mind.  It's always a good time to refresh family bonds.  But I allow myself to selfishly decline if I want. I never feel guilty when I say no because I need my alone time.

It's been a while since I have been completely alone.  I'm not a person that gets lonely.  I like solitude and seldom need the companionship of other humans.  But the feeling this week can only be described as empty.  My bed seems particularly cold this past week.   It's hard to sleep when the furnace of your life is away.

I'm ready to leave aloneness. I'm glad I can set aside this state of being until another time. It's an option that some people just don't have.  I miss my companions and the togetherness of our little trio.

Please bring them back safe to me.

            

Crater Lake

Dud Dads

Most every holiday that comes down the pike is family time.  Not just my trio, but also all of my immediate family. We usually gather at Middle Sister’s house because hers is the largest and she has a fantastic back yard. That’s 24 of us.  Since everyone is out of school, all of us were in attendance for the Memorial Day barbecue.

After years of get-togethers, patterns have emerged. Young people liven up a party immediately. Great conversation, youthful exuberance, ready to have a good time.  With five of them in college, the conversations and insights are even better.  They are emerging adults and are now on equal footing with the rest of the adult family. They have the future firmly clasped in their hands and it’s exciting to be near them.

The small ones bring their own light to the party, as they always do, bringing smiles and laughs and demands for interaction. There are six of them ranging from ages 3 to 11. Family time is in full swing. 

The men (my brother is the exception)… are mostly duds. They usually plop themselves in some spot, barely speak unless spoken to, have little to no interaction, and look bored. Apparently the brother-in-laws have found over years that they really have nothing in common, they don’t really like each other much, and don’t even try anymore. Some of them stop coming to family get-togethers. Duds. Fifty-year-old duds.

But it’s my contention that there is so much more to family time.  They act like they are left out on purpose or something. Fun can be had if only they would seek it out. Come be with the silly young people. Come watch the kids play and run. Run around yourselves for a bit. Strike up a conversation with an eleven year old, or the fourteen year old, or the nineteen year old, or the twenty-two year old. Play a hand of poker with the young bucks. Play dominoes. Joke with the old folks, joke with the sisters. Bring fun with you, horse shoes, sling shots for the kids, water balloons. Make the new brother in law feel welcomed. Pick up a baby. Follow the family around. Become the family.

As I was driving my dud home, he said, “I’m not used to being so sedentary.” As though visiting family was a real strain on his arse. Sigh.

Fortress of No

When I asked my husband for a favor, his response was,

“You know I can only say yes to you.  What ever you want, it is yes. Men will always say yes to a woman.  Yes, yes, yes to everything.”

True. But sometimes getting all those yeses makes me nervous.  That constant barrage of yes, yes, yes, coming in from all directions, makes me what to build a sanctuary, hiding from the yeses, until the sanctuary becomes a castle fortress, fending off the yeses with cannonballs of no, no, no.  Soon the yeses become overwhelming and “the rabbit trying to escape the trap” mentality takes over.

Now, my no, no, no become over zealous in their attempt to squelch the yeses before they even begin. Then as the years go by, the yeses no longer come at me from all directions, but just one most loving direction. Soon even his yeses become but a trickle.  Yikes! What am I doing?   My prince charming, my knight in shining armor is waiting.  Drop the drawbridge, open the gates, and let the trumpets sound. Yes, Yes, Yes.