**Cricket, Cricket**

If there is one thing my husband and I are great at- it’s communication. We discuss our kids, jobs, social events, world happenings, thoughts and feelings. We hit all topics and over the years, we’ve worked out some pretty big issues like parenting, staying together, goals and dreams by always honestly communicating. Most Saturdays we can be found, running errands, spending time together and the conversations flow like water, we text, tweet and IM each other throughout the day; discussing the trivial and the important. We have family dinners and talk with the kids about the world, grades, and the upcoming zombie apocalypse. (The boys are convinced it’s gonna happen) And when we’re alone, I never run out of interesting topics like whether I should try laser hair removal and he always listens and adds some convo of his own like how I should jump on the Knicks Jeremy Lin bandwagon.

Then this happens, the awkward Valentine Day lunch, the night away at the bed and breakfast, the weekend dinner out alone and we look at each other like a spinster and a bachelor, desperate for love, who met online and really don’t have anything in common. We have NOTHING to say. It’s like the pressure to be romantic overwhelms us and we are frozen into two crash test dummies. Does this happen to anyone else?

Stilted conversation, long pauses, out of our element and I scramble my brain looking for a topic, any topic to talk about, some common ground but it’s like we are two strangers. Our V-Day lunch was brilliant, discussing how good the food was, I mean it was good, but I think saying it once or twice was enough. We both tried to foster conversation and it went smoother than other times, but it was still rough, and I consider us both excellent conversationalists.

Last night, back at home, we had a delightful evening. (except for the part where he watched basketball, but that’s a story for another time) We danced, had wine, ate cupcakes, shared chocolates with the kids, and it all felt right. I felt like me and he seemed like him and conversation was good.  

Is it the pressure to be romantic and sexy that makes it not? If so, I propose no more “planned” nights or buying into forced romantic holidays, just "off the cuff" weekends away, no pressure dinners, and long walks on the beach… but let’s say we won’t call them dates. Laters.

The Thin Line

Yesterday morning, I came downstairs to have some coffee and on the kitchen counter, I found a syringe and a rubbery tube with a cap. Curious, I unscrewed the cap and inside the tube were small crystals. Naturally, I freaked out. My first thought was, “OH MY GOSH, one of my kids is a drug addict!!” I grilled son B when he came downstairs, but by his blank stare I could tell he had no idea what I was talking about. I let my daughter off the hook because she is only 9, so that left Number 1 son to take the blame. K was not home at the time so I fretted and worried and only just barely stopped myself from going to the school to pick him up and confront him.

When I talked with K, I worriedly told him of my suspicions and he jumped on the band wagon with me, casually asking the cop who patrols his work parking lot what kind of drug it was. The cop fortunately didn’t arrest K for drug paraphernalia and said that he didn’t think it was drug related as the syringe was too large.

On the tube in small letters was the word Oasis which I was sure must be the new recreational party drug amongst teenagers and I googled it numerous ways, looking for any information and came up with zilch. K also did the google routine and came up with nothing as well.

When Son A came home from school, we pounced on him like tigers, asking him about it, demanding that he tell us what it was.

He was puzzled why we were so concerned about his GUITAR DEHUMIDFDIER!!!!

http://www.google.com/products/catalog?client=browser-rockmelt&channel=omnibox&q=oasis+guitar+humidifier&um=1&ie=UTF-8&tbm=shop&cid=14455280251702486017&sa=X&ei=xvEqT8HFNozWiAL04J3CCg&ved=0CKABEPICMAc

Ah, well….better safe than sorry, or perhaps more apropos better to be embarrassed than sorry. Laters. 

Tis The Season...

Today, I let my daughter eat a chocolate truffle for breakfast. Because I am super awesome like that. The caveat was that she had to eat two pear slices to offset the sugar. It makes sense, right? Besides, its Christmas time and we all know that calories don’t count at Christmas.

This month, we’ve been busy, busy, busy. Too busy in fact for me to feel like I was actually enjoying the season, I can’t remember that happening to me before. I feel like I should be standing on a street corner, belting out Faith Hill’s “Where Are You Christmas?” and then the spirit of the season might just come upon me. Or not…

But in truth, the moments of joy I have found have always been when I am doing something for someone else. The recurring theme of my life for the past few months has definitely been inward focused me equals feelings of doubt and discontent, outward focused me equals satisfaction and peace. That makes sense too, right? I know I am always most satisfied when I am a part of something bigger than me, though I confess, I really had to push myself to even care about being nice. Santa must surely have me on the naughty list. But I have learned that you can never put a value on something as small as just speaking a kind word to a friend and asking them how they are. How they really are, and caring about their reply.

We are winding down and I look forward to visiting with family and enjoying life in the slow lane for a few days. Above all, I am grateful to enter this sacred season with my health, my family healthy and presents under our tree. We are most fortunate and blessed. Laters.

Hmm... what she said.

I was thinking about this time of year and how I need to remember the sacredness of the event, and find peace in the frenzy, then Maya Angelou said it one hundred times better than I ever could, so I'll just let her run with it. (thanks Kara)

Amazing Peace: A Christmas Poem

 

snow in bethlehem

By Maya Angelou

Thunder rumbles in the mountain passes
And lightning rattles the eaves of our houses.
Flood waters await us in our avenues.

Snow falls upon snow, falls upon snow to avalanche
Over unprotected villages.
The sky slips low and grey and threatening.

We question ourselves.
What have we done to so affront nature?
We worry God.
Are you there? Are you there really?
Does the covenant you made with us still hold?

Into this climate of fear and apprehension, Christmas enters,
Streaming lights of joy, ringing bells of hope
And singing carols of forgiveness high up in the bright air.
The world is encouraged to come away from rancor,
Come the way of friendship.

It is the Glad Season.
Thunder ebbs to silence and lightning sleeps quietly in the corner.
Flood waters recede into memory.
Snow becomes a yielding cushion to aid us
As we make our way to higher ground.

Hope is born again in the faces of children
It rides on the shoulders of our aged as they walk into their sunsets.
Hope spreads around the earth. Brightening all things,
Even hate which crouches breeding in dark corridors.

In our joy, we think we hear a whisper.
At first it is too soft. Then only half heard.
We listen carefully as it gathers strength.
We hear a sweetness.
The word is Peace.
It is loud now. It is louder.
Louder than the explosion of bombs.

We tremble at the sound. We are thrilled by its presence.
It is what we have hungered for.
Not just the absence of war. But, true Peace.
A harmony of spirit, a comfort of courtesies.
Security for our beloveds and their beloveds.

We clap hands and welcome the Peace of Christmas.
We beckon this good season to wait a while with us.
We, Baptist and Buddhist, Methodist and Muslim, say come.
Peace.

Come and fill us and our world with your majesty.
We, the Jew and the Jainist, the Catholic and the Confucian,
implore you to stay awhile with us
so we may learn by your shimmering light
how to look beyond complexion and see community.

It is Christmas time, a halting of hate time.
On this platform of peace, we can create a language
to translate ourselves to ourselves and to each other.
At this Holy Instant, we celebrate the Birth of Jesus Christ

Into the great religions of the world.
We jubilate the precious advent of trust.
We shout with glorious tongues the coming of hope.
All the earth’s tribes loosen their voices to celebrate the promise of
Peace.

We, Angels and Mortals, Believers and Nonbelievers,
Look heavenward and speak the word aloud.
Peace.

We look at our world and speak the word aloud.
Peace.

We look at each other, then into ourselves,
And we say without shyness or apology or hesitation:

Peace, My Brother.
Peace, My Sister.
Peace, My Soul

Great Balls Of Fire

I woke up this morning at 5 a.m. screaming from a killer charlie-horse. (another not so lovely side effect of my meds) I alternated between a weird wheezy scream and outright hollering.  Since I was awake and in need of some support, I made sure that K was awake too so that he could enjoy the moment with me. With the screaming, you’d think he’d be awake already, but what can I say, the man is a sound sleeper. I emphatically suggested that he rub my calf and he gave it his best effort, but again, he’s not on his game much that early so it was a little anti-climactic. The pain brought out some colorful phrases and the urge to yell "ay-yi-yi" and "Dios Mio" in a Spanish accent. The cramp lasted somewhere between infinity and eternity and made my calf so sore, I could barely walk on it this morning, not to mention wear my work heels. I schlepped around for most of the day in flip-flops and then gingerly tried on my heels for a walk to the post office. I was still no better and in fact in standing position, the muscles twitch and jerk and threatened to cramp again at any moment. I’m just lucky I guess.  Laters.

What I Saw

Today as I came into the atrium of my office building, the crazy lady who always asks for a dollar and wears flip flops in the snow was standing outside the plate glass doors on the other side with a large tooth comb, fixing her hair just so. She focused on her reflection intently and took time to reach every strand, smoothing the salt and pepper mass into a sort of wind tousled submission. She went over the stubborn places several times, until all the hairs were smoothed to her satisfaction and finished her coif just as I arrived inside. I saw her quickly pocket her comb to shuffle over to the man taking a smoke break to ask for a dollar.

Laters.

Midnight Convo

For the past few days I’ve had either a small head cold or an allergy flare up. The nose is running and the eyes are watering and the sneezes abound. I’ve been taking Sudafed to combat the symptoms and it works pretty good, but as I am a medicine wimp, I only take one at a time and not the recommended two, and still , I get a pretty jittery feeling. Last night, I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned and looked at Facebook and did all kinds on mental sheep counting but nothing worked. Finally K said, “Can’t you sleep?” Which really means “Be still, I’m trying to sleep over here.” I said no and then I thought that I would share the fun, racing, jittery thoughts I was having with him.

J-“Babe”

K-“Hmmm…what?”

J-“Do you remember when we were in Dublin at Christ Church Cathedral and we saw the mummified cat and mouse?”

K-“Yes”

J-“Wasn’t that cool?”

K-“zzzz….snort, Yes”

J-“Babe, do you remember the curtains we had at our first apartment?”

K-“zzzzzz”

J-“Babe!”

K-“hmmm….yes… no, not really”

J-“says many other inconsequential things”

K-“snoozes and snores and replies occasionally”

THE GRAND FINALE

J- “Babe, do you like me?”

K-“Babe, I love you.”

J-“Tell me why you love me.”

K-“I love you when you are quiet and let me sleep.”

Laters.