What the Hell-'s Angels...

WRITER'S WORKSHOP PROMPT:
A memorable day at work.

(me and Mr. Rick when we were both flirty young college thangs)

I've never written a romance novel. Never even tried. But there's a part of me that thinks it might be fun. You know, just a little part. And that little part wanted to show up today to write about a memorable day at work. That little part wanted to take creative license to make that memorable day at work extra juicy (just for fun) because it did indeed have all of the makings of a very juicy story. But I decided to refrain from embellishing said juicy story for two reasons.

One...
I never take creative license on my blog posts they are (sadly) all true.
and
Two...
I wouldn't want my darling love to read this post and think that I had a very juicy memorable day at work (even though we weren't married at the time).

It happened while I was employed by a group of Hell's Angels (at least I had been told they were Hell's Angels, a story that their appearance and behavior certainly backed up). I was a flirty young college thang working alongside a flirty young son of a Hell's Angel thang, which made for some crazy, yet wholesome :), playful banter.

I wasn't just a flirty young college thang however. I was a very much in love flirty young college thang. And not with the son of a Hell's Angel mind you, but with my very own Mr. Ricky Blissful (I'm thinking he's going to love that I called him Mr. Ricky Blissful and I'm thinking he'll probably say something like, "What the heck..." only he doesn't say heck so you know, I took creative license with that one)

I'm telling you I had it bad for Mr. Rick (he hasn't been Ricky since grade school) and the son of a Hell's Angel knew it. Which only made him turn up the heat on his playful banter. Until one day...

Insert steamy romance novel here...

The son of a Hell's Angel cornered Jeanette in the back office, begging her to forget that other guy and be with him.

She smiled coyly, because that's what flirty young college thangs do, pressing her hand against his chest. "I can't son of a Hell's Angel. I don't want to. I love him." She turned to leave but he grabbed her, pinning her against the wall. With one arm draped above her head and the other on her waist he put his lips dangerously close to hers and whispered, "You know you'd rather be with me."

...and that's where the romance novel ends because I pushed him off of me, told him to quit being stupid, and we continued to laugh, joke around and remain "just friends".

As for Mr. Ricky Blissful? Well he and I remained friends too...AND SO MUCH MORE... a story that could make for a pretty juicy novel in and of itself. But again I'll refrain and just say...

The End.

Everyday...

Yesterday I walked into the grocery store to find people swarming around tables full of flowers, candies, cakes and balloons. Oh the stress, oh the frenzy. I then bought my loaf of bread, stick of butter and container of milk (anyone watch that on Sesame Street?) and calmly, quietly, contently left the store.

I got home to find that my love had already returned from work. I gave him a hug, a smooch and said, "Thank you so much for not making a big deal out of Valentine's Day. I was so glad that I didn't have to worry about buying any of that crap today."

"Thank you." He said. "You're the woman and Valentine's Day is for women. It's you that makes us not have to buy all of that crap."

"Why don't you care about Valentine's Day?" Marlee asked.

The answer is two fold...

One, our anniversary is two days after Valentine's Day so Valentine's Day has always paled in comparison and two--and I figured this out after some pondering-- we don't need Valentine's Day because everyday is a lover's holiday around here.

Everyday is filled with "I love you. You're awesome. You're the most amazing person I have ever met. Thank you for how hard you work for us. That was the best meal I've ever eaten. You always make me feel better. You're so good to me. I need you. You make me a better person. You're the person I want to call when I have a free minute. I appreciate all you do for me. You're brilliant. You're a genius. I admire your work ethic. I admire your spirituality. You're hott. You're sexy. You make me laugh. I hit the jackpot when I married you. I could never make it through this life without you..."

Everyday is back rubs, snuggles and kisses on the neck. Everyday is LOVE. Pure, blissful, beautiful love. And I guess I just don't see how flowers, candies, cakes or balloons could make it any better.

...but a big fat breakfast burrito from El Cupidos? Now that's different.
Thanks honey for surprising me with breakfast this morning :)

Tales from the weekend...

Once upon a time last Saturday, I drove Rick to Show Low to meet up with some people for a business trip. While there I thought, "Why not hit some yard sales." Why not indeed. But after driving a country mile--using the sun as my guide so as not to be forever lost in the forest--only to find one yard sale with nothing more than a small table of used Valentine Bears and "sexy" women's lingerie (that's what the woman kept saying to me. "I've got sexy lingerie here just in time for Valentine's Day." Um...no thank you) I was reminded, that's why not. Yard sales here are ridonkulous. And then I gave myself a talking to and said, "Hello self. Please stop trying to find yard sales up here in the mountains. Stop right now. You don't have Costco here, you don't have Target here (just to name a few of the many, many things we don't have) and you do not have yard sales here. The end."

So I started driving. I drove and I drove until I ended up in Heber where I found thrift stores. Fun thrift stores. And I had a little party and bought this chair where I like to sit when I'm stoned apparently. I'm just saying the eyes are looking a little suspicious in the photo, but whatever. And now I have hope, if only a little, that maybe just maybe I can live here without dying.

Maybe.

Trust...

I learned about this from someone in my writer's group. Each Friday there is a key word to write about.
Here are the rules:

Around here we write for five minutes flat on Fridays.

We write because we want to, not because we have to. We write for fun, for joy, for discovery.

On Fridays we just write without worrying if it’s just right or not. Won’t you join us?


TRUST:

“You don’t have to figure everything out today. You just have to keep moving.” I said the words aloud as I busily cleaned my kitchen one morning. Immediately a feeling of profound love and peace washed over me, consumed me. I knew that my words were true and that my Savior loved me and appreciated any effort I could give.

I have always wanted to know that I am doing the right thing and giving my best. “What is my purpose?” I’ve wondered. “I’m I using this precious gift of life to the fullest?” I now understand that we must live life to find our lives. We must walk to find our path. Much of what we experience will be trial and error. We’re not always going to do it just right. We can’t. But I trust, oh how I trust, that If I show up for the job every day, keep moving and give my best—even if my very best is no more than the widow’s mite sometimes—the Lord will take my offering and add unto it so much more. More than my meek little heart could ever, ever imagine.

Wilbur lives here...

As I revisited my blog this week (haven't been here in awhile) I scrolled down and saw a post I had written about my posters of blissful affirmation. I also saw that I had promised to show you what I was going to do with my posters of blissful affirmation. But I never did. Because I'm rude like that. But I don't want to be rude. I want to be fabulously kind and awesome. So today I give you this picture of my posters (there's more on another window as well) even though I didn't do exactly what I had planned to with them.

What I had exactly planned to do was to frame them out with some cute fabric or maybe molding but after they sat for many, many weeks with no fabric or molding I said, "Self, it's time to face that fact that you will never hang these up if you wait to be fancy. So please just hang them up right now." And so that's just what I did. And I pretty much love them. Because they are full of blissful affirmation after all. And I loves me some blissful affirmation.

Now about my writing/ creative room... as you can see it is not yet cute. And it is currently being used as a holding ground for things displaced by the living room painting project extravaganza of 2012. But it will be cute by golly. Someday it will be cute. And when it is I'll show you pictures.
I promise :)

Welcome to the fun house...

Another thing you'll find if you pop by to see me--besides me, my wrap thingy, no makeup and dust--is a crazy clown house (as I like to call it).

You see, once upon a time (about a week or so ago) a painter brought some samples over and proceeded to slather my walls (yes we've hired a painter. It was one of those win-win situations for both of us so we decided what the heck...) Things just got crazier from there and soon not even the molding was safe. Never leave me in a room with a painter at my disposal. It's dangerous.

Upon review of the many, many samples slathered on my walls (I haven't shown you the half of them) we decided to scrap the neutrals and go BOLD! Today is the day the madness will begin so it's only natural that my feet grew a little cold last night (of course they're always cold at night but this time I'm referring to the cold feet that make one sit up and exclaim,"What the heck are we doing?!")

"Are we sure we want to do this?" I asked Rick.

"Of course." He said. "I love it. This is who we are. We're fun people and we need fun colors."

And then I busted up into hearty, rolling laughter. "Oh yeah, we're just a barrel of laughs." I said.

"I know." He said. "Just look at you laughing now."

Well I don't know how much fun we really are, but I do know we've never been afraid of color. Paint is my friend. It makes me happy. And I'm excited to finally, FINALLY, stamp this house with a little of my own personality.

Wish me luck. And say goodbye to the crazy clown house (goodbye crazy clown house :} xoxoxo)

This is me...

Please love that I am not wearing any makeup in this picture.
Please also love the dust in that tree behind me.
No this isn't the first time I've noticed my dusty tree. I see the dust every time I walk past it. I just haven't done anything about it. That's all.
The problem is it's an artificial tree. And trees should be real. Real trees don't gather dust (or do they) and they bring beauty, life and oxygen to a room. I love real trees.
But they don't love me.
Which is fairly reasonable seeing as how I kill them. And if someone killed me I wouldn't love them either. So I have no real, living, breathing, beautiful plants in my house. Just fake dusty ones. Sad.

But you know what? I didn't write this post to talk about my dust problem (my chandeliers look like they belong in the haunted mansion--I'm just saying). I wrote this post to show you the awesome wrap thingy (don't know what it's called) that my mother-in-law crocheted for me.
She came over yesterday and said, "Look I made this for you." And I put it on. And promptly warmed up. Who knew a crocheted wrap thingy could be so warm?

I'm pretty much in love. And I'm pretty sure I'll be wearing this everyday. So if you pop by to see me, no matter the day or time, this is what you'll find. Me, my wrap thingy, no makeup and dust. Awesome.

Take one down, pass it around...

I'm in love and I don't care who knows it! And no I'm not talking about the book "I am number four" but I am talking about another publication, "Writer's Digest magazine". I've been reading it this morning and dying over the genius of those who contribute to it. Dying in grinning, gooey, giddiness I tell you. Especially when I read this paragraph:

"To not write your novel, constantly worry about how bad your book might turn out to be. Pause every thousand words or so and think, This is about the worst piece of crud known to man. Where did I put the bourbon?"

This paragraph made me laugh out loud because this is where my mind currently resides in my writing journey. "It's all crap." I tell myself. "What the heck am I doing thinking I can write anyway. I pretty much stink!"

So when Marlee came to me the other day and said, "I read what you've written so far."

I cried, "No it's crap! I can't believe you read that awful, horrible, crappity crap! You should have let me edit it first."

"It's amazing." She answered. "You're an amazing writer."

"That means a lot coming from you." I said.

"Oh yeah, why?" She asked.

"Because you're reading all of the time!" And she is too. Holy cow that girl's read a ton of books. And she's very particular and critical too. She doesn't like crap. So it did mean a lot to me when she said she liked my writing. Especially when she let me know, with a hint of drool at the corner of her lips no less, "I love that Aaron guy."

"You know he's the bad guy." I told her.

"Even better." She smiled.

Okay so maybe I won't quit (or resort to drinking bourbon) just yet.

Birthday Rush...

In honor of Jamie's birthday I give you this picture of Big Time Rush (because I don't currently have other birthday pictures to post) her newest, latest and greatest love interests. I think it is Kendal she loves most (guy in hat) but she is sure to correct me later if I'm wrong. Like boyfriends in years (months, weeks) past I find that I can tolerate these guys pretty well too. Their music doesn't bother me and I've even been know to get sucked into their TV show from time to time. So all is well. Lets just hope she has the same luck in choosing real life boyfriends. Oh I'd better like them because I am not putting up with any foolishness I'll tell you that right now. I'm so done with fool men and their shenanigans (not speaking personally of course. I gots myself a keeper) and I pray everyday that my girls can steer clear of the fools. Please.

And now if you will excuse me, I must go make cotton candy for Jamie's class.




I really don't feel like making cotton candy today, but I must. Because when you own a cotton candy machine it just doesn't feel right to make cookies or cupcakes, I'm just saying. So that's what I'm gonna do. Make cotton candy. Yes I am. Right now.

P.S.
Did you know that if you make cotton candy in the house it coats everything with tiny sugar particles and sets off the smoke alarms? Good times.

If you build one, they will come...

So I was reading NieNie the other day--as I'm known to do from time to time-- and in this particular post seen HERE... she briefly mentioned her daughters' fairy creations in the backyard which made me feel all giddy because outdoor fairy creations were ONE OF MY VERY FAVORITE THINGS IN LIFE when I was a wee child. And this thought led to the memory of an afternoon spent making fairy creations with my girls-- back when I was a brunette (ours weren't quite as elaborate as the NieNie girls' but whatever, mine never were either).

Do you remember when I was a brunette? I do. After going through my pictures to find our fairy house day, I'm thinking of becoming a brunette again (and forget what they say about blonds) because I seemed to have a lot more fun as a brunette. I'm not even lying. I look at my old pictures and say, "Dang who's that girl? She's having a heck of a lot more fun than I'm having now." So I'm wondering... Is it the hair? Did I have more fun because of the hair? Hmm... maybe I'll just have to find out again. Yes maybe. I'll have to think on that one.



But in the meantime, I think it's time to get out and MAKE SOME MORE FAIRY HOUSES. Even though it just got very cold here. A fact that I can hardly speak of without a little sting in my heart. Perhaps if I become a brunette again I'll be able to face the winter like Rocky Balboa in Russia (what # Rocky was that? 4?). You remember that one right? When he's stomping through the snow with a log on his back? No? Well refresh your memory HERE...

Make mine cheesy...

WRITER'S WORKSHOP PROMPT:
TELL US ABOUT YOUR SONG...




I L-O-V-E our song, "When I See You Smile" by Bad English. I L-O-V-E it so much that I painted it over our bed. And I L-O-V-E the fact that when my daughter Paige suggested that Rick and I take a picture by our sign, Rick actually jumped up and did it (complete with a cheesy grin) even though ( as you can see by the fact that he is wearing his comfortable shorts) he had settled in for the evening-- flipping between a Diamondbacks game and a John Wayne movie no less.
That's love baby. True love.

I thought about trying to explain all of the whys for my love of this song, but I decided to let a sampling of the words speak for themselves.

Sometimes I wonder if I'd ever make it through
Through this world without having you, I just wouldn't have a clue
'Cuz sometimes it seems like this world's closing in on me
And there's no way of breaking free, and then I see you reach for me

Sometimes I wanna give up, I wanna give in, I wanna quit the fight
And then I see you baby, and everything's alright, everything's alright

When I see you smile, I can face the world, oh oh, you know I can do anything
When I see you smile, I see a ray of light, oh oh I see it shining right thru the rain
When I see you smile, baby when I see you smile at me, oh yeah

Baby there's nothing in this world that could ever do
What a touch of your hand can do, it's like nothing that I ever knew hey

And when the rain is falling, I don't feel it, 'cuz you're here with me now
And one look at you baby, is all I'll ever need, it's all I'll ever need...

That in a nutshell sums up our relationship. Support, strength, love, laughter and plenty of smiles. There's not a person alive who makes me smile more than that man o' mine.

And if I'm ever being a downer and forget how important my smiles are to him, remembering one of my favorite quotes always gets me back to being Miss Nice Girl (sorry I don't know who said it)

Take bread away from me, if you wish,
take air away, but
do not take from me your laughter.
... it opens for me all
the doors of life.

Love. That. Quote. Smiles and Laughter are among the most powerful forces on earth. And if you don't believe me, just watch the video to our song HERE. And see how happy you feel after laughing at John Waite's hair.

I don't often play by the rules...

Yesterday I woke up to October. Well actually I'd awaken to October a couple of days before that as well, but because I had other things on my mind those other days... Yesterday I woke up to October.

And I said to myself, "Self, it's October! We should decorate for Halloween!" To which myself replied, "Well, do you think we should clean then decorate or decorate then clean?"

Hmm, what a quandary. Clean, decorate? Decorate, clean?

Logic would say, make your house all spiffy lovely then decorate. It's the right thing to do.

But I don't like logic, especially in matters of creativity. Logic stifles creativity. Logic is a killjoy. So I argue with logic and say, but if I decorate first then I'll get all jazzed, pumped up and excited and I'll clean up speedy quick so as to be able to show off the splendor of my creation. And all will be well in my world Mr. Logic. All will be well.

But it's not the right thing to do. Logic protests with a firm stance and stern glare.

And I sheepishly ponder the question again... Clean then decorate? Decorate then clean? Hmm...

So what would you do?




And what do you think I did?

Surf and Turf...

WRITER'S WORKSHOP PROMPT:
A Memorable Fishing Trip...



Once upon a time, I went away to college and decided that cowboys were very HOTT!!! Which was unusual as I had never thought much of them in high school.




If I recall correctly, the cowboys at my high school just hung out in the far corner of the parking lot, listened to country music (blah) and smoked. At least I think they smoked. Did they smoke?




And I belonged to the big hair, guess jeans and alternative rock/pop crowd.




And please tell me that when you weren't out and about in your guess jeans you were at home in your mens boxer shorts (and a very over sized shirt, seriously why am I wearing that tent) tell me that you wore guess jeans and or mens boxers and I'll tell you that you are my people.

But in college things were different,(though I still had big hair, guess jeans and popular music) because in college cowboys were HOTT!!!

So once upon a time when one of the HOTT college cowboys called and asked me if I wanted to go fishing with him I said YESSSS, don't mind if I do.




And that's when I caught my very first ever fish (a trout I believe)




Out yonder there on my fishing date with the cowboy




Then we all went to the home of my cowboy date's cowboy friend and ate steak (?)

And the cowboys accepted me into their secret cowboy society when I proclaimed it a sin to put sauce (of any kind) on a steak (my daddy raised me right). And life was good.

...later that summer (when we were all back home) the cowboy wrote me a letter while out on the range of Montana (my cowboy date was a real life cowboy) and told me how thinking about me kept him warm at night (I swear we only went on that one fishing date and we never even kissed).

But sadly I never wrote him back because I had fallen in love with a non-cowboy back home.




And I'm so very glad I did.

Group dating...

Contrary to popular belief, when a girl gets asked to homecoming by two different boys on the same night she does not exclaim, "Woo-hoo, lucky me!" (though she is very flattered and grateful)

In reality when a girl returns to her car after her amazing choral concert (Marlee really was amazing at her concert last night and I'm pretty much a dud for not taking my camera) to find balloons and a cake waiting for her then whilst hurrying home to find out who they are from, receives a phone call from her dad saying, "There are roses and chocolate here for you..." she does not say, "Woo-hoo, lucky me!" But... "Oh no." and "Oh dear." and "This is really bad." and "What should I do?" and "I feel awful." And the like.

And then she frets and stews and sighs and calls her friends and drives to her friend's house for a pow-wow and worries and stews some more (because she would fancy going with either boy and doesn't want to tell one no). It's a tough thing I tell you. A very tough thing indeed.

Fortunately for the girl however, there is a rule of etiquette put into place that protects against such a situation as this. The rule of etiquette that states (and correct me if I'm wrong) that it is only proper for a girl to accept the offer of he who asks first

...even if it was only five minutes before.

So what have you been up to?...

For reasons I do not wish to discuss, I have had need to be very nice to myself as of late. No really. Niceness to myself has been imperative to my survival. It's true. And therefore I have spent most days in ratty jeans and or pajamas--because though being nice to oneself for some might involve stiletto heels and a french manicure, for me it means ratty clothes, a messy ponytail and absolutely no makeup-- and while hanging about in my tattered state, I have found that the art of thumbing through old magazines has become very therapeutic for me.

Well not just thumbing through them exactly, but thumbing through them in order to rip out words, phrases and pictures that uplift and delight my senses. You see I have turned into Templeton from Charlotte's Web--scavenging ever scavenging for the perfect word. Of course after my role as Templeton is complete I then become Charlotte herself, spinning a web (or in this case a poster) of inspirational delight. And then alas it is Wilbur I emulate, dancing and flipping about under my web (or posters) of blissful affirmation.

That's right--I'm some terrific, radiant, humble pig and I'm gonna be just fine.

P.S.
If you're wondering what I plan to do with all of my webs (or posters) of blissful affirmation, I'm using them for a project I'm working on in my new creative/writing room. I can't wait to finish it so I can show y'all. It's sure to be fabulous. I think.