12 December 2010

Twas The Month Before Detox

Twas the month before detox and my clothes no longer fit,
Not a pie, cake or cookie that I'd not yet bit.
The stockings were hung on the back of a chair,
Couldn't pull 'em up, I had nothing to wear.

The children were laughing at the size of my rump,
While all of their sugar plums I ate with a trump.
Me in my MuMu, Ben and Jerry in a bowl,
had just settled down, I was out of control.

When out in the kitchen there arose such a clatter,
And since it was my favorite room, it really didn't matter.
Away to the kitchen I ran like a flash,
Tore into the cookies, while potatoes I mash.

The moon on the breast of the turkey I'd roasted,
gave me a use for the bread that I had toasted.
And what did my eyes bigger than my stomach next see,
Eight tiny stocking stuffers glaring back at me.

With little old Debbie, so chocolaty and rich,
I knew in a moment the wrapper I'd pitch.
More rapid than weight loss, I slammed back that cake,
I whistled and shouted, what next could I take!


A Ring Ding, A Ho-Ho, A Twinkie and Devil Square,
A Cupcake, A Fruit Pie and Sno-Balls everywhere!
At the top of my pants, I undid the zipper,
This feast was my ship and I, the skipper.

As pounds that before, would not go away,
I said, "What the hell, I'll worry 'bout that New Year's Day!"
So up to my eyeballs, I was filled with treats,
Was not about to part with my tray full of sweets.

And then in a twinkling, I heard a loud noise,
Was someone going to thwart my confectionary joys?
As I drew a deep breath and crouched to the ground,
My belly started to rumble, I'd surely be found.

Dressed all in black from my head to my toe,
Attempting to hide what stuck out below.
A bundle of bulges from front into back,
I looked like a burglar waiting to pounce on a snack.

My eyes how they twinkled when my company left,
All alone in the kitchen, now back to my theft.
My droll little mouth was covered with powder,
my fingers all sticky and my chewing much louder.

The stump of a Twizzler, I held tight in my teeth,
as I peeled back the wrapper of a coconut wreath.
My face was all round like my plump little belly,
My doughnut was dry, it needed more jelly.

I was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
It made my heart warm that I still loved myself.
I winked at my reflection, I caught in the toaster,
And laughed at my ride on the weight roller coaster.

I spoke not a word, but sat still in meditation,
Accepting myself without hesitation.
And laying my finger across my red lips,
I hushed all the nonsense and all the guilt trips.

I sprang from my corner and waddled to the door,
Away from the anger that caused me to eat more.
I walked down the hallway and into my room,
I looked in the mirror rejecting the gloom.

I stared at the beauty whose reflection I saw,
I blew her a kiss not noticing a flaw.
You're worthy, I thought, of all of life's cheer,
Be true to yourself, all through the New Year!
(c)The Paper Whisperer, 2009

*I wrote this poem last year at this time and I would love to tell you that my love/hate relationship with mirrors has changed, even remotely, but I would be lying. The reason that I pulled this poem out and dusted it off was because of a song I heard the other day. The words blew me away and I have listened to it over and over and over. I've posted the link below....just for you. I want you to listen to it and TRY not to feel beautiful! I dare ya! LISTEN, LISTEN, LISTEN!!

Jammed up and jelly tight,
The Paper Whisperer

22 September 2010

Psssst, I Hate To Bug You......

"Goodnight, sleep tight,
don't let the bed bugs bite!"

I wrote this story a few years ago and recently felt compelled to dig it out as bed bugs seem to making, yet another, comeback. I wanted to share my knowledge as I was fortunate enough to learn firsthand.

"Good night, sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite," has a whole new meaning to me. As some of you may or may not know, I am (was) an Administrative Coordinator at a County Cooperative Extension office. We have an on-site entomologist, so whether I like it or not, I have bugs shoved in my face on a daily basis. I truly don't mind it as I have learned a whole lot in the last year. And surprisingly, I am not as much of a girly girl as I thought I was.

Our entomologist teaches classes on bugs periodically and I find his materials extremely interesting. I can even identify termite droppings! How cool is that? And did you know that ants make their own pet cemeteries where they dispose of their dead? Did you know that the smallest snake is no bigger than a fishing worm? It is called a blind snake. An elderly couple brought in a baby food jar with what looked like two fishing worms, but they were upright in a striking position. It was the strangest thing I had every seen in my life. "Honey I shrunk the snake." I stared in awe at the jar and then asked if I may see it. At closer glance, they were, without a doubt, miniature snakes. It was craziness!!

When I first started working at the office, I went to get something off of the printer and I noticed some handouts on bed bugs. I didn't even know there was such a thing other than the little poem recited before bedtime, which, by the way, I no longer allow in my home. I sat down and began to read the information while scratching and clawing at my body. Grossssssssssssss! Not only do they exist, but they are making a comeback after a lengthy sabbatical.

About two weeks ago, I was sitting at my desk when this young girl walks in and asks if the Dr. was in. She had a cup in her hand so I knew she needed "something" identified. Since I had become an "old pro" I asked her if I could take a look at what was in her cup. She handed me the cup and I will never forget that moment as long as I live. I looked down into the Dixie Cup and immediately snapped, "WHERE DID YOU GET THESE?!!!" The cup contained various sizes of the God awfullest looking creatures you have ever seen. Blood splatters were all over the cup. I recognized them immediately from my recent research. They were BED BUGS!

She went on to tell me how she and her husband had taken their children to Disneyworld and had stayed in a Howard Johnson's hotel outside of Orlando. She said they went to bed at about midnight and she woke up at 1:30 a.m. because she felt something on her face. She got up and went in to the bathroom and turned on the light. She had these bed bugs all over her. She ran into the room, turned on the lights and the bed bugs were all over her husband and children. Can you imagine? Can you JUST imagine?!!! I could not sleep for three days after looking into that cup.

As soon as the Doctor arrived back at the office, I told him the story. He immediately became concerned that she brought them in an open container as they are so infestuous. I assured him that we had contained them to the cup and the microscope. I immediately started bombarding the Doctor with questions because at that point, I was never going to stay in a hotel ever, ever again. My first question was, "If you sleep with all the lights on, will they still come out." To which he replied, "No, they are nocturnal." I asked him if there was a way that you could tell if bed bugs were present in a room before you brought your suitcases onto the Stephen King set.

He said, "Always carry a small flashlight with you when you are traveling." (Thank you, but I think I will get one of those spotlights the car dealerships use to advertise a big sale...."Step away from the bed with your fangs where I can see them!") He then went on to tell me to lift the fitted sheet and you can see the traces of bed bugs clearly. They leave reddish brown stains (uncouth bugstards) along the cracks and crevices of the mattress. You will see the photos in the links I have provided for you below. He also said that if it is possible, to check behind the headboard as that is a common place for them to "rest."

The next morning, I phoned my friend Susan who has been in the Hotel Management business for many years. She confirmed my worst fears...yes, they are a problem at a lot of hotels. And don't be fooled by the quality of the hotel; bed bugs are even showing up at five star hotels.

Another area of concern relative to bed bugs is the purchase of new mattresses. A lot of mattress companies will pick up your old mattresses when delivering the new. Infested mattresses are placed in the same trucks with the new mattresses giving the bed bugs a chance to take up residence in the new mattress sets.

I know you are totally creeping out about now and I hated like Hell to share this story. However, I felt that it was so important as many of you travel extensively and hotels are your home "suite" home for many days of the year. Please educate yourself on this menace. You should find all the information you need on the Internet.

NOT the Bug Whisperer!

10 September 2010

Oh Brother Where Art Thou?

"The real and lasting victories are those of peace, and not of war."
~Ralph Waldo Emerson~

September 11, 2001 (A day that neither myself nor the rest of the world will ever forget.)

I was so happy when I woke up this morning. It was a beautiful day and I had finally shaken the depression that had plagued me the week before. I put on the water for my coffee and walked over to my computer and waited patiently for the kettle to whistle, just as I had already begun doing.I sat down at my desk and began making a copy of the the soundtrack from the movie "Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?" I was making it for my brother, Donnie. Music is my passion and I love sharing my favorite. I knew my brother would enjoy this particular soundtrack and I was anxious to get it finished and in the mail to him.

I started typing out a letter to enclose with his gift. I began with, "Hi Brother, where art thou?" given my farcical sense of humor. I went on to tell him how much I thought he would enjoy my gift of music that I so lovingly put together for him. As I whistled and typed the final paragraph, my telephone rang; my very frantic aunt on the other end. With hysteria in her voice, she instructed me to turn the news on. I expected the worst, given her frantic state. I turned on the television just in time to see an airliner crashing into an already burning building. The "collision" was being played over and over and over.My first thought was of my darling brother, a Delta pilot who flies into New York City often. The news had not yet reported what airline it was.

I raced to the phone and frantically began dialing his cell phone number only to get his voicemail.O brother, where are thou? was racing through my mind. I hung up and tried again, this time hearing his beautiful voice at the other end of the phone saying, "Hello." I broke down. He assured me that he was okay and was sitting in LAX waiting for a plane to take him home for the start of a much needed vacation. However, his vacation would have to begin later, as all flights across the country had been canceled. This was serious.

As a former fighter pilot for the Air National Guard, my brother stated that we would surely go to war. Now my heart was aching for the other very important man in my life, my son, Ryan, who joined the United States Air Force a couple of years ago. I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me by Satan. I told my brother I would let him go so as to free up the phone for other concerned family members calls, but not before I said, "I love you and please stay safe."

As I was hanging up the phone the sun was disappearing and claps of thunder could be heard in the distance. It scared me and maybe for a fleeting moment I envisioned the world ending. The storm became so bad that I had to shut down my computer as lightning was striking everywhere. I couldn't help but think how coincidental this storm was. It had been such a beautiful and sunshiny morning.

I called my brother back a couple of hours later to find out what the mood was at LAX. He said he had gone to a very crowded car rental agency after LAX had been evacuated. He rented a van and then asked if there was anyone who wanted a ride to Tucson, Phoenix or anywhere in between. He had several takers as he embarked on the eight hour journey. He had a van full of strangers who were united by horrific disaster, but that were not forced to mourn alone. Clearly it would be a trip that none of them could or would ever forget.

I managed to muster up a slight smile at the thought of my dear brother commandeering this van from the "pilot's seat" while still in his Delta uniform. If you knew my brother, you would know that all of his passengers on that day were riding in "First Class." I will now go pray for all the victims, their family and friends. I will pray for this country and the state it is in. I will pray for the subsequent deaths that this will lead to and then I will thank our most loving God for the safety of my brother, my best friend.
And this I wrote after I saw a woman being interviewed who could not find her husband.

by Robin Garrett-Welsh

I kissed your lips and straightened your tie,
Sent you off with a warm good-bye.

"I love you, have a nice day,"
the very last words you'd hear me say.

I wish that I had hugged you tight,
when we crawled in our bed last night.

I wish I'd have told you how much you mean to me,
I wish, I wish, I wish for things that'll never be.

An attack on America, and end to our dreams,
life is much shorter than originally seems.

A country too lenient allowing terrorists to sing,
a useless attack so that freedom may ring.

September 12, 2001

24 August 2010

Chew On This

"People take different roads seeking fulfillment and happiness. Just because they're not on your road doesn't mean they've gotten lost."
~Dalai Lama~

I just recently finished reading the oh so popular, "Eat, Pray, Love," and it was nothing short of DEE-LISH-US! I took my very sweet time reading the book as I found it comparable to a slice of key lime cheesecake with pecan graham cracker crust drizzled with raspberry sauce. (You're wondering about me, aren't you? haha)I have not been so moved by a book since "The Four Agreements," by Don Miguel Ruiz. The irony is that this book has been sitting in my "to read" pile for a little over a year. I finally decided to pick it up and see what all the hype was, not that the title alone wasn't enough to get me to shell out the 99 cents I paid for it at my favorite recycled bookstore. What I cannot understand, however, is how anyone could part with this "bible" of a book. I have highlighted the hell out of it and scribbled my usual notes in the margins. There are very few books that make it to my "life library," but this one is definitely a keeper.

If you have boobs and have ever known the heartache of struggling to unload life's backpack from your person in order to save your own ass, then you must read this book. The author, Elizabeth Gilbert, who is very funny, by the way, details her travels over the course of a year in search of "Self" after a devastating divorce and subsequent heartbreaking affair, a "loss upon loss," she writes. She takes off on her "voyage of self-discovery" that will include a year of travel to Italy, India and Indonesia; spending four months in each spot. Like so many others, I, too, have experienced her type of overload; only difference is, the best I can hope for is Bon Bons, Bubble Bath and a Blow Up Doll....there's the extent of my "eat, pray, and love." *Big sigh!*

Elizabeth's journey begins in Italy where she is in pursuit of pleasure and to also learn their "language of romance," which she has yearned to master. Personally, I find it a bit annoying and a little to "Godfathery" for my taste. "That's-uh very-uh spicy-uh meat-uh ball-uh!" Nope, not working for me. French....that's what I want my lover whispering into my ear! "Je veux vous aimer ce soir et pour toujours mon cheri." Oh yeah, that's what I'm talking about!! And how about Vietnamese? Now there's a birth control method for ya! I'll bet their foreplay includes two muzzles and ear plugs just for extra "protection." Okay, so where was I? Oh great! Now I can't get my French lover out of my mind's "rental space." I'll go ahead and give him another week before I start the eviction process.

So back to the book. After tons of fun and lottsa pasta in Italy, Elizabeth jets over to India where she moves into an ashram and begins her four months engrossed in learning the art of meditation, spiritual enlightenment and her "lasting experience of God." This was my favorite part of her journey. If you have ever tried to meditate, you know what I mean when I say, learning another language is probably much easier to accomplish than to calm a woman's mind. We multi-task 24/7; even when we are "trying" to sleep. I have done everything to quiet my mind and make the voices stop. I simply cannot do it...but I want to....oh so desperately. After reading the book, I have new hope as the author had the same problem. She is "burdened by what the Buddhists refer to as the "monkey mind," (thoughts swinging from vine to vine)." Immediately I had an intense craving for, not one, but a whole bunch of bananas. Coincidence? I don't think so.

With all these "swinging thoughts," one is "always digging in the past or poking into the future," writes Gilbert. The very thoughts that latch onto my brain like leaches sucking the energy out of any possibility whatsoever of enjoying current events. "Live in the "Now," are you kidding me? Who on earth is going to nurture my old wounds; keep them alive, if you will? Sounds idiotic, doesn't it? I just thought about Eleanor Roosevelt's quote, "Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery and today is a gift, that is why it is called the present. And even though I think that quote is so profound, invariably I will spend the 86,400 seconds I am given a day rehashing my past or questioning my future. Makes me wonder if Eleanor herself even practiced what she preached. If I was a doctor, I'd be a quack. If I was a pastor, I'd be a hypocrite. If I were a man, well, I'd just be in the garage working on my project du jour. I have yet to meet a man (not saying that they don't exist) that even acknowledges he has a past, let alone, agonizes over it. How do they do that?

In the book, Gilbert writes that she has heard it said that "prayer is the act of talking to God, while meditation is the act of listening." Me, listen? Ha! Okay.....just as soon as donkeys take up flight. Well, that's not entirely true. I listen to some things....all the things I want to hear. But I'm changing! So help me God (are you listening?), I'm changing! I talk to God all of the time, but I never hang around to hear His answers. The same way I pass someone and say, "Hi, how are you?" and yet never wait for their response. It's not that I don't care how they are, I just feel more urgency to get back to my past or worrying about the future that hasn't happened yet. *Big sigh* So if you can sit still and rest your mind for even ten minutes, you will do yourself a favor. "The only place the mind will ever find peace is inside the silence of the heart." (as told to Gilbert by a monk.<----I just noticed that word was two letters shy of monk(ey). Perhaps monks are monkeys who have stopped "thought swinging." haha

Gilbert wraps up her journey in Indonesia on the island of Bali. While in Bali, she reunites with an old medicine man who she had met on a prior trip and befriends a Balinese healer that would change her life. Oh yeah, and then there's the "happily ever after" even after she has sworn off anything that will hurt her heart further. His "pick-up line," "We must get our hearts broken sometimes. This is a good sign, having a broken heart. It means we have tried for something." Smooth, right? Good, good book!! It is all the rage in facebook land, but not without "some" very perplexing controversy. Most are loving it, but some are "boycotting" it simply because yoga, meditation, healers and GASP.....Buddhists are involved. Give me a break!!!!

I actually had a woman ask me how I could call myself a Christian and practice yoga. RUFKM?! I didn't know how to respond because I couldn't get past her IGNORANT statement! And how can YOU call yourself a Christian while you are clearly judging me?! (a practice which seems to be okay amongst a large amount of the "Christians" in my life) One comment that has weighed heavily on my heart was one written in response to someone who had just seen the movie. The comment was, "That's why I haven't bothered to read the book or see the movie. And now she's a Buddhist? Weird!" Why does ANYONE's path to "goodness" have to be labeled at all, much less as "weird?!" To my mind, her statement was weird! Who cares how you get there, so long as you get there! My friend Kim "rocked it" on her facebook page beside "Religious Views." She wrote, "I'm sure Jesus and Buddha were both on the right track." I will never forget reading that for the first time and thinking, "Wow! Just WOW!" Why is that the hardest thing for people to get?

I, myself, was never taken to church a day in my life so I had to discover religion on my own. I had no religious "identity," so to speak. I had myself baptised Catholic so that I could get a reduction on my oldest son's tuition at the Catholic school he attended.(and maybe a little pre-planning on my way to becoming Mrs. JFK, Jr. haha) Okay, so now I'm a Catholic....what's next? I was lost....completely lost amongst the rituals, the sacraments, THE CONFESSIONALS?!! I take issue with anyone other than God who decides my penance. And inasmuch as I respect every one's choice of religion, the Catholic church was not where I found "my" God.

I visited many more churches and various religions trying to find my "home." It is was much harder than finding the perfect pair of shoes, but there was no question when the day finally arrived; when I had arrived. The "Angels" truly did sing. That was eight years ago and I still have a hard time wrapping my brain around religion and all it's controversy. My religion? The building in which I attend services is non-denominational; my church is right where it always has been and always will be, in my heart. You will never hear me say this one or that one is going to hell because of anything. It is not my place. You will never hear me say that your choice of religion is not the right one. It is your choice. Kindness....that is my religion.

Eat (healthfully) and Pray for Love,
The Paper Whisperer

07 August 2010

It's Raining Men....Hallelujah!

"Ten men waiting for me at the door?
Send one of them home, I'm tired."
~Mae West~

Boy did I catch some flack for the last posting! Everyone wrote to me wanting to know why I hated men so much or who had hurt me so badly that I would start excreting venomous rantings from my fingertips. (<-----that was good, by the way. My mind is such a terrible thing to waste, don't ya think?) Anyway, I DON'T HATE MEN....I LOVE MEN...just not as much as I used to. Too old, too busy, already have someone other than myself that I have to take care of, yada, yada, yada. I wrote the story in a fit of anger because it seemed like every time I turned around someone was getting busted (in a major way) for cheating. I can't stand cheaters whether they are male or female. Get a divorce, walk away or send a singing telegram. Odds are it will only hurt half as bad and you just "might" get to keep your integrity.

I would have ranted equally as much had there been a "monsoon" of women cheaters, however, you just don't hear about that too often, now do ya? Wonder why that is? I'll tell you! We're lucky if we can muster up enough time to simply fantasize about having an affair. "Idle hands are the devil's workshop," and our hands are almost always filled with something....laundry, pots, pans, cleaning supplies, homework, well, you get the picture. I think Tiger, et al, need a little more than a lawnmower handle in their hands once a week. Hmph!

But rest assured, I still love men, I just find the older I get, the harder time I have putting up with anyone's schitt, let alone someone who expects me to wash there underwear only to take them off at someone else's house. The fact is, that since my divorce (however long ago that was...wtfc?), I've just sorta orbited around the whole partner-ship enterprise (and no, I'm not a "trekky" just in case you were wondering) trying to decide whether or not I want to fly Hans Solo or not. (it appears I'm outta control on the science fiction metaphors, and I don't even like it! Ewww). I'm not EVEN gonna say, "Beam me up, Scotty!" cuz that would just be over the top....even for me. :-P

Okay, so where was I? "Um, Scotty...you can go ahead and let me down now (EVERYONE ELSE DOES!)." Ah yes, men. I can pick the sweetest and juiciest watermelons in the bunch, but have not been so lucky when picking "soul mates." Maybe I oughta start thumping them. Or how about sniffing them. How many unhappy dogs do you see, after all? Or maybe, just maybe, I could leave well enough alone and continue to live in the perils of my mind's dilapidated Camelot....or would that be, CameNOT?

My happily ever after fantasy went down in the Atlantic with John F. Kennedy, Jr's plane. He was trying to reach me, poor baby and definitely poor visibility. After quite a few years of grieving, I met Lance (Armstrong). Of course, he was all tied up with that Sheryl girl at the time, so I gave him his space and let nature take it's course. I knew he would eventually see the light and he did. While making his way to Colorado, he stopped to impregnate some strange woman, but by this time I was done! He was no longer a "competitor" in my Tour de Fantasy (I still wear the yellow bracelet he gave "me," however.)

At least for the time being, I have decided to forget the happily ever after and just toy with the happily ever NOW! After all, it's all I've got time for! May the "force" be with me!

Live long and prosper or nanu nanu, whatever makes your ship shift!!
The Paper Whisperer

28 April 2010

Three Strikes You're Out!

"A lie may take care of the present, but it has no future."
Author Unknown

Manicure? Really? I'm thinking there's a better chance at finding a cure for cancer than ever finding a cure for a man. How 'bout you? What is it exactly, about men, that makes them so inept when it comes to remembering and honoring the sacred vows of matrimony they took before God, family and friends? Is it all just a big joke; a taping for an episode of Greatest Sport's Plays of All Time?

Marriage, in a man's world, is not unlike a baseball game. Fanny on first, Kitty on second and Bunny on third, and oh yeah, then there's home, that place they eventually come sliding into. Safe (this time), but don't think that the "Ump" doesn't have her eye on you! What part of love, honor and obey, don't they get? The irony is that a huge percentage of men remarry within a year of getting divorced, otherwise known as, "caught in the act." Why is that? Because they want their wedding cake and eat it too, that's why!

I do believe men have hit an all time low with the latest fad of getting caught cheating and immediately admitting themselves to a rehabilitation clinic for "sex addiction." I think it was David Duchovny of X-Files fame who started this new trend. Tiger quickly followed suit after his multiple "fly balls." But I think the lamest attempt at stealing base was Jesse "D'oh" James (Mr. Sandra Bullock). It took him a couple of innings before he realized he could use the 'ol rehab play to his benefit. (I think his brain has been damaged by a little too much tattoo ink.) Well, poor little Jessee didn't realize that his "Pitcher" was not still standing on the mound spitting and adjusting her balls. A little too late on the Home Run, Slugger! You're outta here!

It's so refreshing when women, like Sandra Bullock, don't make excuses and don't accept it as, "his little addiction." I hate that women feel like they have to stay for "the children." What are you teaching "the children," exactly? Every child I know that was one of "the children" whose parent stayed after infidelity, is in therapy for skewed perceptions of right and wrong. Should I stay or should I go? What is right and what is wrong? Let's see. How can I put this in simple terms? Mrs. Bill Clinton=IDIOT! Even if I wanted to vote for her, I wouldn't have, based simply on the fact that she wasn't strong enough to stand up for herself. How on earth could I trust her with my country?

I'm saving the "best" for last, of course. John "you phucking a-hole" Edwards! You want to run my what, Fruitcake?!! You don't even deserve the doghouse that is currently keeping the rain off your head, much less the White House!! HIS WIFE IS DYING OF CANCER while trying to take care of all their children and deal with the loss of one of those children while he is out making more children! This is how he sends his wife, the mother of his children, to her final resting place? Well isn't that a fine parting gift?! And still she manages to muster up some semblance of dignity to help get her through. He was her worst cancer.

And let's not forget the heart wrenching pain and subsequent after-shocks that come with infidelity. Once the bond of trust is broken, you can never get it back, no matter how many bogus rehabs you enter or therapists you see. Going, going, gone....outta the park! See ya!

I think cheaters should be forced to do a stint at Sheriff Joe Arpaio's, "Center for Rehab," in Maricopa County, AZ, complete with the notoriously famous PINK standard issue uniform. And how about an added big green "A" sewn on the front, which doesn't, by the way, stand for Athlete.

I hate to clump "all" men into the pig category because I know some really, really good ones, like my 10 year old, for instance. Respectful, considerate, funny as all get out and passionate about integrity. And who can he thank for that? Me, his mother. Forget that whole "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus" schitt! Men are from their mothers, period, end of story. And I say, shame on some of you mothers!

Okay, I'm finally through ranting and raving about infidelity. It just seems to be an epidemic of late with Matt Lauer being the latest swine making yesterday's news due to allegatins of a tryst during his coverage of the Winter Olympics. I guess it's about time for a Fatal Attraction Part 2, "Hell Hath No Fury Like a Mistress Scorned." Hide your bunnies, ladies.

Batter Up!
The Paper Whisperer

14 February 2010

A Love Letter

"What I need to live, has been given to me by the earth. Why I need to live,has been given to me by you."
~Author Unknown~

Happy Valentine's Day, Sweetest O'Hearts! I know I promised to start the New Year off by writing more, but fate had other plans for me. Right around Christmas time, I dropped my computer, rendering it useless. I was heartbroken....and poor! I was truly looking forward to writing about the new year, the old year, resolutions and vices; all of which and none of which, I have. *Wink* But since we are clear into February, it seems like a moot subject. I'm already past the excitement of the New Year/New Chance hysteria. I've already blown it, spilled coffee on my resolution list, and couldn't care less about the prospect of change. Someone else got my Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue gig so what's the point? But I certainly hope that your year is going along swimmingly and that you are living up to your greatest potential.

Valentine's Day is so much fun, I don't care what the cynics whine about. I don't even care if it is greeting card company conspiracy. Love is in the air and I don't care how it got there. The world is covered with pinks and reds, two of my favorite colors and hearts are everywhere you look. It is such a happy holiday. I love helping my son-shine make Valentine's cards to hand out at school. I love it even more when he comes home with all of his party stuff and we get to go through the box reading all the Valentine's sentiments. It always amazes me that there aren't more of the same cards handed out. It just goes to show you how different, individual and unique we all are.

On April 4, 2000, I gave birth to my very own Valentine, Christian. On that day, he became the love of my life and has continued to be, to this day. About 4 years ago, we were driving home from my birthday dinner when out of the blue he said, "Mommy, do you realize that when I was in your belly that both of our hearts were in you at the same time?" I almost ran off the road at his very deep and profound thought, to which I replied, "No, Christian, I did not!" He looked at me with those beautiful brown eyes and said, "I think that is why we are best friends." It was a moment I will never forget. So today, on this day of love, I would like to share an open Valentine to my son-shine.

My precious baby boy,
How did I ever get so lucky? What did I ever do to deserve the love of such an amazingly beautiful soul? I often times feel unworthy of your presence, but soon realize that I was placed on this earth to be your Mommy. I promise to do everything in my power to get well and make sure I will have lots and lots of days with you.

Thank you for being my best friend and loving me even when I didn't love myself very much. I owe you the world and fully intend to find someway in my power to get it for you! Please keep the faith and trust that God will continue to bless us and answer our prayers.Happy Valentine's Day, my forever heart.

I love you Pumpkin!
Your most grateful Mommy