In the Middle of the Night, She Asked Me

I try to not disturb my wife’s sleep.   Sometimes, despite my best efforts, others disturb Sugar’s rest.  For example, last night our 90 lb. puppy, Gus, who just celebrated his first birthday, came up to Sugar’s side of the bed and awakened her by sniffing at her lovely face.

However, it is my job to let Gus out, as he good and well knows, so next he came to my side of the bed and softly barked.  I awakened from a deep sleep, obediently sat on the side of the bed, waited for my consciousness to emerge, and started for the bedroom door in the utter darkness.

Before I got there, I stepped on Beau, one of our other Labrador Retrievers, who was sleeping soundly at the end of the bed.  I tried to lift my foot from Beau, out of kindness, I suppose, sacrificing my extraordinary balance to protect Beau, and landing on my bum knee and then my extended right hand, which did not support my lithe frame, which resulted in my laying on the floor at the foot of the bed, where Gus eagerly jumped on my prone form.

“Get off me,” I said from the floor, which disturbed Sugar, who reminded me that he is just a puppy.  I already knew Gus is just a puppy, yet I felt it would be easier to get up off the floor without a puppy on my chest.

Gus and I walked down the hall, across the balcony, down the steps, through the front room, and out the front door, onto the front porch, then down the steps.  Gus was happy to be out at 2:00 a.m.  I was hobbling on my bum knee, which was much more painful than it had been a few moments earlier.

Gus proved that it was worthwhile to go outside, as from a young age he had been taught to potty outside.  See post entitled, “We slept together the very first night.”

I returned to the bedroom by the same painfully difficult route of going up two flights of steps.  I stealthily slipped under the covers.  Sleepy Sugar hugged me and, with genuine concern, asked, “Did he poop?”

Apparently, she felt it unnecessary to inquire about my health after my fall.  That makes sense because she knows how tough I am.

Miss Sugar Gets Carded

Young people are carded in order to prove that they are old enough to purchase cigarettes and alcoholic beverages.  The sellers of such products require identification showing a birthday in order to calculate age, usually with a drivers license or a fake drivers license.

Miss Sugar looks young for her age.   Her age is, however, more than 21 years.  She is entitled to purchase cigarettes, but refrains.  She seldom purchases adult beverages, but she is legally entitled to do so.

A few days ago, Sugar came home in an unusually good mood.  “I was carded today,” she gleefully announced.

No, she was not trying to purchase alcoholic beverages nor tobacco products nor to attend an adult film.

Do I have your attention?  Are you waiting with bated breath?  Are you curious?

Sugar went to Goodwill on senior discount day.  The cashier would not sell anything to Sugar for a senior discount because Sugar is clearly not a senior citizen.

Except, legally and chronologically, she is (how should I say this,?) — of age to qualify for the senior discount at Goodwill.

So, in order to convince the cashier to extend the discount even to someone who looks like fair Miss Sugar, she had to show her drivers license.  She had indeed been carded.

Her drivers license photo doesn’t help convince of her advanced age, yet it shows her birthdate.

I wonder if Christie Brinkley has the same problem.

Beeing a Bride

If you can see clearly enough, you will observe a bee (or maybe wasp) on the bride’s “train” very near her right elbow.  Maybe he liked her perfume or was attracted to the flowers.

Now I will tell you the rest of the story.

First, please allow me the pleasure of introducing the main characters and the setting.  The bride is my bride, Sugar.  The occasion, however, was not our wedding.  So, you wonder why she was wearing a bride dress unless it was her wedding?  Miss Sugar, I have mentioned in other posts on this blog, was a model for many years, and, as such, was called upon to pretend to be a bride.  The photo above was taken for an advertising spread for some planned  bridal event in Boulder.  The photo shoot was outside.  So was the bee.

Moments after the photo, Sugar felt the bee on her arm.  When she went to swipe at it, she was stung.  She tore off her headgear (I forget what it is called) and screamed.

Oh, well.  The photographer got his shot for the ad.  The show must go on.

 

That’s What I Had in Mind

When I said I do, I meant that I will ’til the end of all time
Be faithful and true, devoted to you
That’s what I had in mind when I said I do    — Clint Black

When I said “I do,” I fully expected our marriage to last for our lifetimes, but I did not foresee what all our shared lives would entail.  Newlyweds are told that marriages have ups and downs.  However, that is hypothetical until actual events become those ups and downs.

I have been surprised many times over the years.  The biggest surprise is that someone as wonderful as my wife would accept my marriage proposal.  If you knew her and knew me, you would be surprised too.  You would say, as another lawyer told me after meeting her, “Man, you sure married above your station in life!”  I agreed.

On the surface, you would notice that my wife, Miss Sugar, is physically beautiful.  That is not merely my biased opinion.  It is an objective finding in that she was actually a beauty queen in Texas, a state known for beautiful women, and had a long modeling career, including being a swimsuit model.  No brag, just fact.  I am a lucky man!

But as alluring as that was for me to pursue her, after I got to know her, I learned that she is a better person than me by almost every measurement.  (I say almost because I can bench press more weight than she can.)  She is kind, generous, smart, and musically talented both as a pianist and singer.  She is a great artist and teacher.  And mother.  And wife.  I am not being modest or humble when I say that I don’t deserve her.  I truly do not deserve her.  Love can be mystifying.

She is fiercely loyal to me.  She has proven over the years that she actually loves me.  It is a wonder.  Miss Texas agreed to go out with me, agreed to marry me, and did indeed marry me.  That is amazing.

What is not amazing is that I love her.  I’d be crazy not to.

I am still crazy about Sugar after all these years.

Today is our anniversary.  We just listened to a song by Clint Black that is special to us.  I encourage you to read the lyrics and maybe look it up on YouTube.  It is called When I Said I Do.

Kim K Copies My Fashion

Very recently, I saw a photo of Kim Kardashian wearing jeans with holes in the areas of her thighs and knees.  My first thought was that she must be bucking bales of hay because I have over the years had many pairs of jeans with that exact same look.  I suspect that Kim and other fashion leaders noticed me at the feed store or while I was doing chores.  I know I look good in jeans, but I always believed women were studying my Wrangler butt.  Apparently, they study my thighs as well.

Here is how to get holes in the thigh area of one’s jeans.  As you lift bales of hay, use your leg to help bring the bales to your middle area immediately prior to using your arms to lift the bales above your waist or even head, depending upon how high you are stacking the bales or throwing them onto the hay wagon as another person standing on the wagon aka hay rack (as in hay rack ride), to stack bales there.  I perfected the technique as a young teen trying to keep up with older fellas picking up hay bales from the field and then handling them again to stack the bales in the hay loft of the barn.  “More bales!” we would yell, implying that the other cowboys were not keeping up with our respective selves, the superior workers.

Kim did not explain the worn-out jeans that she was wearing so she might not want me to explain the process of achieving that look.  She does not seem the type to throw bales of hay, but now you know.  I see her in a whole different light.  What a hard-working cowgirl!  I had previously thought she shopped on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills or Hollywood or wherever it is.  I do suggest she get more sensible footware.  I wear cowboy boots.  They have heels, but not spindly ones such as Kim wears above.  I doubt she wore those shoes in the hay fields.

I hesitate to publish this because I fear that a bunch of California girls will be contacting me to ask about stacking hay bales.  I will have to reject their assistance.  After all, I am married to Miss Texas and she looks good in her jeans with or without holes in the thighs.  Kim could learn a lot from Miss Texas but I wonder if she is capable of grasping what Miss Texas knows.  Miss Texas is way out of Kim’s league.

Take a bow, Miss Texas!  (I doubt Kim can ride a trick horse).

Miss Sugar Goes to Court

As a prerequisite to reading this post, one is required to view the movie, My Cousin Vinny, so as to understand my comparison of Miss Sugar to the role played by Marisa Tormei in that film.  I think she won an Academy Award.

So, today Sugar went to Small Claims Court as a plaintiff in a landlord-tenant dispute.  The judge did not allow me to act as her attorney.

As her own advocate, Sugar was very cute.  I sat in awe at the force of her personality.  From the witness chair she ordered the defendant to stop rolling his eyes as she spoke.  She impeached the credibility of his testimony by playing a voice message he left, proving his denial on the stand was indeed untruthful.  .You would not want to be him going against her.  As Muhammad   Ali once said about an opponent, “I pity the fool.”

At one point in her testimony, she wept — sincerely and appropriately.  That is a tactic I have never tried.

To paraphrase Jim Croce:  “You don’t tug on Superman’s cape.  You don’t spit into the wind.  You don’t pull the mask off of the Lone Ranger.  And you don’t mess around with Miss Sugar.

Dream Date

He was clutching a handful of cash.  He looked happy as he walked away from the bank teller.  He came over to where I was sitting in the bank lobby and I commented that it looked like he had lots of money.

“I do have a lot of money,” he agreed.

“Do you have plans for how you want to spend all that money?” I asked.

He grinned.  “I am going on a date.”

“That sounds like fun.”  He agreed and volunteered to tell me about the planned date.

The young man appeared to be about high school age.  He has Down’s Syndrome.  I wondered if he was going to prom.

“We are going to Olive Garden restaurant to eat and then we are going to a movie at the brand new movie theater and then we are going to watch the sunset.”

“Wow.  That will be a wonderful date.”

“Yes.  I always wanted a girlfriend who has cowboy boots and a cowboy hat.”

“Do you have boots and a hat?”  I asked because he was not wearing any.

“Yes.  I like horses too.”

“I do too.  I have some horses.”

“Oh.  What are their names?”

I told him our horses names and then asked him the name of his girlfriend.

“I don’t know her name yet because I have not met her but when I do we will go on a date.”

His mother had overheard our conversation and smiled about it.

I got kinda choked up.  That is a nice young man who knows what he wants.  He has goals about getting a girlfriend who meets his criteria and has planned out a wonderful date night.  Lucky girl!

 

War of the Winds Again

The flames fascinate,

Bringing comfort

As I contemplate,

Staring at the fire.

                           Winds rudely attack

                           My reverie,
By a chilly draft
Tresspassing inside.

Noisy blowing cold,

Unrelenting,

Being too bold

Invading our home.

                              Logs and chinking

                               And metal roof

                               Try protecting

                                 Us from this weather.

Some windows rattle.

Walls are shaking.

It’s a battle,

Testing our shelter.

                                   Like evil v. good,

                                   Hostile forces

                                   War with the wood

                                    In our fiery stove.

Burning wood’s heat

Challenges wind

As they compete

On temperature.

                                  The brave cabin

                                   Resists the force

                                   As we stay in —

                                    Safe from blowing rage.

 With loud gales outside,

My wife hugs me,

Snuggling by my side.

I don’t mind the wind.

Taking Turns Riding Shotgun

Last night, I heard a song with the phrase, “Taking turns riding shotgun.”  (It was a country song).  It struck a chord in me.  I plagiarized it as part of my love note to my wife on her Valentine card this morning.

Romance is wonderful.  It is fun.  It feels good.  People love feeling loved.  Infatuation is exciting.  But romance alone is not enough to sustain a marriage.

I married a pretty lady from Texas.  I call her my hot trophy wife because she looks like the beauty queen she once was.  It was easy to fall for her.  But calling her a trophy wife is shallow of me.  Sugar is anything but shallow.  She is a force to be reckoned with.

I like to think that I am tough.  I like the role of being a protector.  I have seen too many Western movies.  In the West, we use phrases like “I’ve got your back.”  That refers to literally watching out for the other person so no one else shoots them from behind, or, symbolically watching out for the other person by being loyal.

Sugar is tough.  She does not look very tough, but inside she bravely handles adversity.   She overcomes.  She is loyal.

On the stagecoaches in the Old West, there was a man sitting next to the driver who was “riding shotgun.”  The person riding shotgun could shoot at anyone attacking the stage while the driver concentrated on driving the team.  Maybe they took turns.

In marriage,  we need to protect each other.  We might play different roles and do the protecting in different ways, but each partner “rides shotgun” for the other.  Taking turns.

 

 

She Said Yes

Shootin' the Breeze

Back a spell, Miss Sugar got married with me.  It was a way better deal for me than for her, but I reckon it is her own fault.  Caveat emptor (let the buyer beware), as they say.  A deal is a deal.

Anyways, we made a deal, vows actually, so she is stuck with me, which I am very glad about.  I am so glad about it that I want to celebrate.  I’m asking her out on a date because today is our very anniversary.  I hope she says, “Yes.”

I think she might.  I remember the first time I asked her to go on a date.  She said “Yes.”

I remember when I proposed.  She said “Yes.”

If she had not said “Yes” to those invitations many years ago, I would have kept trying.  But since she did say “Yes,” my life became infinitely better.

My life became infinitely better years…

View original post 19 more words