I have a plan this summer – a plan that will embarrass my kids. I plan to talk about S-E-X this summer. And I’m going to talk about it to anyone who will listen.
You see, I have this friend Charla. (We’re sorta-kinda related. She’s my sister-in-law’s sister’s best friend from college.) Charla wrote a book about a birthday gift she gave her husband – sex, every day for a year. Really! A fascinating idea, one that intrigues men and perplexes women. (at least from my short survey) Her book is called 365 Nights: A Memoir of Intimacy. Sound familiar? Perhaps you saw the ladies discuss it on The View last month or watched the interview on The Today Show yesterday. If you missed those, stay tuned, because I understand they have taped a segment for Inside Edition.
OK – but why am I going to talk about sex all summer? Partially because it will embarrass my kids. (Come on now – there has to be some sort of pay back for all the years of attitude and eye-rolling I endured during their teen years.) Also, because Charla and I are sorta-kinda related. But most importantly, because I’m co-hosting a book signing event for Charla in Baltimore in September. You can stay tuned via Charla’s website : http://www.charlamuller.com/
Today is my 46th birthday – I wonder what Paul has planned? I don’t think its sex every day for a year, but one never knows . . . . .
Friday, June 27, 2008
Monday, June 23, 2008
Bedside Manner
I actually had a doctor this morning recommend amputation of my toe in lieu of surgery to correct a displaced broken bone. If you could see this toe, you would agree that something needs to be done. With the present angle of this toe, I could hitchhike across the country. Now, I’m sure the kind doctor was just trying to drive home the pointlessness of performing any type of surgery on someone’s baby toe (it being a useless digit in the grand scheme of foot agility and aesthetics) but amputation – please! I long for the days when a doctor would take the time to have a long, thoughtful discussion with a patient about treatment options and the pros and cons of medical procedures. What happened to gently guiding the patient toward the preferred path? If I wanted shock therapy, I’d listen to Howard Stern.
I went to my personal physician a few months back after being diagnosed on vacation with bronchitis and flying home with fluid on my ear. (OK – short diversion here, NEVER fly when the doctor tells you there is fluid on your ear. NEVER. Rent a car and drive home. Just trust me on this one!) She said “breathe in.” I said “though my nose or my mouth” but it was too late, she was already done listening. She spent a millisecond looking in my ear and pronounced, “Yea, you look red.” Then, with a shrug of her shoulders, I was dismissed with “You’ll just have to wait it out.” I must say “take 2 aspirin and call me in the morning” would have been a more thoughtful and comforting recommendation. I asked if there was anything I could do for the pain in my ear she said “no.” Then added, “You won’t want to get back on a plane until this clears though.” I wanted to say “No shit, Sherlock” but I restrained myself.
Is it me or is there a distinct decline in bedside manner rampant in the medical field today?
Just in case you’re wondering, I’ve decided to keep my toe. I kinda like the little fella. And I won’t be going on vacation again without my laptop. After all, where else am I going to get sound medical advise without attitude?
I went to my personal physician a few months back after being diagnosed on vacation with bronchitis and flying home with fluid on my ear. (OK – short diversion here, NEVER fly when the doctor tells you there is fluid on your ear. NEVER. Rent a car and drive home. Just trust me on this one!) She said “breathe in.” I said “though my nose or my mouth” but it was too late, she was already done listening. She spent a millisecond looking in my ear and pronounced, “Yea, you look red.” Then, with a shrug of her shoulders, I was dismissed with “You’ll just have to wait it out.” I must say “take 2 aspirin and call me in the morning” would have been a more thoughtful and comforting recommendation. I asked if there was anything I could do for the pain in my ear she said “no.” Then added, “You won’t want to get back on a plane until this clears though.” I wanted to say “No shit, Sherlock” but I restrained myself.
Is it me or is there a distinct decline in bedside manner rampant in the medical field today?
Just in case you’re wondering, I’ve decided to keep my toe. I kinda like the little fella. And I won’t be going on vacation again without my laptop. After all, where else am I going to get sound medical advise without attitude?
Friday, June 20, 2008
A Newfound Love of Wheelchair Ramps
Have you noticed how many able-bodied people park in handicapped spaces? Do you truly appreciate the automatic doors at the grocery store? Have you ever cared about the angle of the slope on a wheelchair ramp? (I mean really cared.) I now care – I mean, I really care. Yesterday, I broke my toe. I won’t go into how exactly – except to simply say I had a disagreement with a bookshelf over who had the right-of -way. Does anyone ever break a toe doing something valiant or daring?
I have now joined an elite group of human beings – those crutch-dependent individuals braving the world on one leg and 2 sticks. (Now there’s the valiant and daring part!) I’m getting pretty good negotiating life with my new appendages, but to say I am proficient in the use of crutches is probably an oxymoron. Does anyone ever really get use to these things?
To kill time (since I’d really rather not be seen in public in this fetching blue boot) - I’d love to know how many people have actually broken a leg trying to use crutches on a set of stairs. There must be some good “I broke my _______, while trying to use crutches” stories out there. I’d love to hear from you. Please share.
I have now joined an elite group of human beings – those crutch-dependent individuals braving the world on one leg and 2 sticks. (Now there’s the valiant and daring part!) I’m getting pretty good negotiating life with my new appendages, but to say I am proficient in the use of crutches is probably an oxymoron. Does anyone ever really get use to these things?
To kill time (since I’d really rather not be seen in public in this fetching blue boot) - I’d love to know how many people have actually broken a leg trying to use crutches on a set of stairs. There must be some good “I broke my _______, while trying to use crutches” stories out there. I’d love to hear from you. Please share.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Put your mood ring away - Sudoku is here!
Did you know The Baltimore Examiner prints a Sudoku every day, next to the crossword puzzle? Did you know you can go to the “archives” at http://www.dailysudoku.com/ and find years worth of random puzzles? Did you know you there’s a Sudoku puzzle in the seat pocket in front of you on the airplane? It’s right there next to the little air sick baggie in the Fly Southwest Magazine.
OK – I admit, I am addicted to Sudoku. But it’s more than just a numbers game, it can predict the future. Sort of like wearing a mood ring or reading the horoscope. I know I’m scaring you – let me explain.
I do Sudoku every day. I’m pretty darn good at it too. When I hit a day that I can’t master the puzzle, I know I’m in for trouble. I'm just not on my game. It’s like a weather vane – it tells me which way the wind is blowing. You know how Granny can predict a rain shower when the sun is shining? – “I can feel it in my bones,” she says. Same concept. Granny and I are both always dead on!
So, no need for horoscopes, mood rings or Miss Lynn the palm reader up on York Road. I can just open the paper or click on dailysudoku.com and know my future.
Pretty cool, huh?!
OK – I admit, I am addicted to Sudoku. But it’s more than just a numbers game, it can predict the future. Sort of like wearing a mood ring or reading the horoscope. I know I’m scaring you – let me explain.
I do Sudoku every day. I’m pretty darn good at it too. When I hit a day that I can’t master the puzzle, I know I’m in for trouble. I'm just not on my game. It’s like a weather vane – it tells me which way the wind is blowing. You know how Granny can predict a rain shower when the sun is shining? – “I can feel it in my bones,” she says. Same concept. Granny and I are both always dead on!
So, no need for horoscopes, mood rings or Miss Lynn the palm reader up on York Road. I can just open the paper or click on dailysudoku.com and know my future.
Pretty cool, huh?!
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
The Millenials are coming!
Last week on 60 Minutes Morley Safer warned “Stand back all bosses! A new breed of American worker is about to attack everything you hold sacred.” A Washington Post article earlier this year warned, “Watch out The Civic Minded Millenials are coming of age.” News like this makes me picture Chicken Little running down the garden path crying “The sky is falling. The sky is falling.”
The Millenials are the post baby boomer children – those born between 1983 – 1997. I raised a few of those, 3 to be exact. A debate centers on whether parents have done a disservice to their children by raising them with praise, telling them they can be anything they want to be and encouraging them to take care of themselves first. Apparently, we parents openly passed around a “coddling virus” which began when Mr. Rodgers welcomed children into his TV home each week telling them “you’re special.” Parents picked up on this appalling behavior and the infection spread like wild fire.
I am a coddling virus spreader! Guilty as charged. I have raised my children with kindness, support and praise. I have indeed told them they can be anything they want to be. I have encouraged them not to settle, but rather to reach for the stars. We vote on major family decisions (though my vote does count twice). I have taught them to make sure they include themselves when they are putting together their list of priorities. And guess what? I am proud of the way I raised my children. I wouldn’t change a thing! OK – I would make them walk the dog more often and I would make them pick their dirty towels up off the bathroom floor instead of doing it myself just before the 11:00 news. But you know what I mean.
The problem, Morley tells us, is that these coddled children are now entering the workforce. The traditional manager is in a tailspin. He is expected to coach rather than boss. He is expected to motivate rather than order. He is expected to make them feel welcome and at ease or these clever, resourceful, tech savy young adults will go find themselves another job, one where they are treated better.
I say good!
The Millenials are the post baby boomer children – those born between 1983 – 1997. I raised a few of those, 3 to be exact. A debate centers on whether parents have done a disservice to their children by raising them with praise, telling them they can be anything they want to be and encouraging them to take care of themselves first. Apparently, we parents openly passed around a “coddling virus” which began when Mr. Rodgers welcomed children into his TV home each week telling them “you’re special.” Parents picked up on this appalling behavior and the infection spread like wild fire.
I am a coddling virus spreader! Guilty as charged. I have raised my children with kindness, support and praise. I have indeed told them they can be anything they want to be. I have encouraged them not to settle, but rather to reach for the stars. We vote on major family decisions (though my vote does count twice). I have taught them to make sure they include themselves when they are putting together their list of priorities. And guess what? I am proud of the way I raised my children. I wouldn’t change a thing! OK – I would make them walk the dog more often and I would make them pick their dirty towels up off the bathroom floor instead of doing it myself just before the 11:00 news. But you know what I mean.
The problem, Morley tells us, is that these coddled children are now entering the workforce. The traditional manager is in a tailspin. He is expected to coach rather than boss. He is expected to motivate rather than order. He is expected to make them feel welcome and at ease or these clever, resourceful, tech savy young adults will go find themselves another job, one where they are treated better.
I say good!
Sunday, May 25, 2008
A taste of OC right here in Bawlmer, hon!
Thinking about goin’ down da ocean, hon? Cost of gas got you down? Dreading the crawl across the Bay Bridge? The perfect alternative is right here in Baltimore!
I happened across a delightful oasis on York Road, near the Towson/City line – it’s a Lee’s Ice Cream & Fractured Prune franchise! Here we have OC’s hot hand dipped donuts paired with the creamiest ice cream to be found. No need to spend hours in the car, just head on down York Road for your OC experience this weekend.
“But that’s just donuts and dessert,” you may say. Where is the relaxing sunrise? Where are the sounds of the crashing waves? Where are the seagulls for crying out loud!
I’m telling you, they are on York Road, near the Towson /City line. Take a seat on Lee’s outdoor patio and you’ll be instantly transformed. The morning sun, rising over the trees of Anneslie, warms your face. A cool breeze blows along the walkway from Cedarcroft. The traffic of York Road is far enough removed, yet sits just close enough, providing a muffled rush, like the crashing of waves. Minivans arrive in steady stream – emitting families with young children in shorts and flip flops. They enjoy a leisurely donut to start their day. Coffee, donut and sudoku in hand, I sat. Seagulls called from over head and a little brown finch visited the sidewalk for crumbs. It was like I was hanging on the boardwalk in OC.
“But there’s no Candy Kitchen, no T-shirt shops, no Secrets Night Club,” you may say. Have you been downtown lately? We have a boardwalk - a wonderful concrete promenade stretching from the Inner Harbor all the way to Fells Point.
Follow 83 South to the end. Then just park and walk. No tolls, no traffic, no cramped 3 hour drive in the car. You can stroll along the water for miles, on paths filled with shops, restaurants and entertainment. You’ll see motor boats, sail boats and paddle boats. They’ll just be in the Harbor rather than the Atlantic. If the Orioles are playing, you may even see a plane on the horizon trailing an advertising banner. Feel like OC yet?
“But there’s no beach, no place to fly a kite or kick back on a blanket,” you may say. Try Ft. McHenry or the Canton Waterfront Park. These offer a waterside view with plenty of room for lounging and kite flying. OK – there’s no sand to get in your bathing suit. You’ve got me there, but is that really a problem?
Memorial Day weekend kicked off OC season in Maryland. Many flooded Route 50 braving traffic and crowds, but I stayed in Baltimore. Each morning, I strolled down York Road for an OC Sands donut. I puttered through my days - strolling along the water, shopping, reading a trashy novel. I used the money I saved on gas and tolls for crabs and beer. And at the end of each day, I wandered down York Road for a double scoop of Lee’s homemade Mint Chocolate ice cream.
Who needs the crowds, we’ve got a taste of OC right here in Bawlmer, hon!
I happened across a delightful oasis on York Road, near the Towson/City line – it’s a Lee’s Ice Cream & Fractured Prune franchise! Here we have OC’s hot hand dipped donuts paired with the creamiest ice cream to be found. No need to spend hours in the car, just head on down York Road for your OC experience this weekend.
“But that’s just donuts and dessert,” you may say. Where is the relaxing sunrise? Where are the sounds of the crashing waves? Where are the seagulls for crying out loud!
I’m telling you, they are on York Road, near the Towson /City line. Take a seat on Lee’s outdoor patio and you’ll be instantly transformed. The morning sun, rising over the trees of Anneslie, warms your face. A cool breeze blows along the walkway from Cedarcroft. The traffic of York Road is far enough removed, yet sits just close enough, providing a muffled rush, like the crashing of waves. Minivans arrive in steady stream – emitting families with young children in shorts and flip flops. They enjoy a leisurely donut to start their day. Coffee, donut and sudoku in hand, I sat. Seagulls called from over head and a little brown finch visited the sidewalk for crumbs. It was like I was hanging on the boardwalk in OC.
“But there’s no Candy Kitchen, no T-shirt shops, no Secrets Night Club,” you may say. Have you been downtown lately? We have a boardwalk - a wonderful concrete promenade stretching from the Inner Harbor all the way to Fells Point.
Follow 83 South to the end. Then just park and walk. No tolls, no traffic, no cramped 3 hour drive in the car. You can stroll along the water for miles, on paths filled with shops, restaurants and entertainment. You’ll see motor boats, sail boats and paddle boats. They’ll just be in the Harbor rather than the Atlantic. If the Orioles are playing, you may even see a plane on the horizon trailing an advertising banner. Feel like OC yet?
“But there’s no beach, no place to fly a kite or kick back on a blanket,” you may say. Try Ft. McHenry or the Canton Waterfront Park. These offer a waterside view with plenty of room for lounging and kite flying. OK – there’s no sand to get in your bathing suit. You’ve got me there, but is that really a problem?
Memorial Day weekend kicked off OC season in Maryland. Many flooded Route 50 braving traffic and crowds, but I stayed in Baltimore. Each morning, I strolled down York Road for an OC Sands donut. I puttered through my days - strolling along the water, shopping, reading a trashy novel. I used the money I saved on gas and tolls for crabs and beer. And at the end of each day, I wandered down York Road for a double scoop of Lee’s homemade Mint Chocolate ice cream.
Who needs the crowds, we’ve got a taste of OC right here in Bawlmer, hon!
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Habits, Routines or Traditions
I grew up in a house full of traditions. I'm not really sure how it happened. I don't think my parents planned family traditions. Perhaps my parents were simply creatures of habit. Perhaps routine was a valued commodity when raising five children. I'm not really sure how our family traditions came to be, but I sure am glad.
Christmas stockings were faithfully hung on the railing of the stairs off the living room(even after we moved to a house with a fireplace). We have a special birthday song, "Make a Wish." We have sung this song at every family birthday since 1965.
When others were dying Easter eggs, we were making egg shell flowers instead. There's a silly looking felt turkey that gets slipped over a pineapple and placed in the center of the table each Thanksgiving. Does anyone even use felt anymore? We do.
Every Sunday morning of my youth, we dutifully trotted off to church - even when we were on vacation. Vacation was a tradition as well. Every summer, the whole brood of us went camping, with an old army-green canvas tent and a Coleman stove.
Believe it or not, we have a secret family dip recipe. This dip, which we lovingly call "the secret dip", appears at every family gathering. The rule? You must marry into the family to get the recipe.
I could go on and on.
My family probably has a few more traditions than most, but trust me, every family has traditions. You may not have a secret dip recipe or know how to make egg shell flowers, but trust me, you have traditions. Does Grandma make creamed onions for Thanksgiving every year? Are you the one who always bakes the holiday pies? Does the world standstill when the NY Giants are playing? If you look hard enough, you'll find them. Every family has those quirky little things that make them unique.
Celebrate your traditions. Start some of your own. As children grow up, families move apart, or grandparents pass on, you can put a felt turkey on a pineapple and feel like you are home again. You can get on the phone and sing the birthday song to your son on the west coast and share a special bond.
Sometimes silly, sometimes sweet. Traditions are a wonderful thing.
Christmas stockings were faithfully hung on the railing of the stairs off the living room(even after we moved to a house with a fireplace). We have a special birthday song, "Make a Wish." We have sung this song at every family birthday since 1965.
When others were dying Easter eggs, we were making egg shell flowers instead. There's a silly looking felt turkey that gets slipped over a pineapple and placed in the center of the table each Thanksgiving. Does anyone even use felt anymore? We do.
Every Sunday morning of my youth, we dutifully trotted off to church - even when we were on vacation. Vacation was a tradition as well. Every summer, the whole brood of us went camping, with an old army-green canvas tent and a Coleman stove.
Believe it or not, we have a secret family dip recipe. This dip, which we lovingly call "the secret dip", appears at every family gathering. The rule? You must marry into the family to get the recipe.
I could go on and on.
My family probably has a few more traditions than most, but trust me, every family has traditions. You may not have a secret dip recipe or know how to make egg shell flowers, but trust me, you have traditions. Does Grandma make creamed onions for Thanksgiving every year? Are you the one who always bakes the holiday pies? Does the world standstill when the NY Giants are playing? If you look hard enough, you'll find them. Every family has those quirky little things that make them unique.
Celebrate your traditions. Start some of your own. As children grow up, families move apart, or grandparents pass on, you can put a felt turkey on a pineapple and feel like you are home again. You can get on the phone and sing the birthday song to your son on the west coast and share a special bond.
Sometimes silly, sometimes sweet. Traditions are a wonderful thing.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Exercise? vs Exercise!
What is it about exercise? I know I should do it. I know I need to do it. I know I have time to do it. But somehow, it rarely makes it to the top of my "to do" list.
Oh, I make a "to do" list, almost every day. What a sense of accomplishment I get as I check things off throughout the day. But even if I put "Exercise!" at the top of the list, I can spend an entire day avoiding it. I have even been know to add and check off additional "to do" items during the day if the list of remaining items is getting short. (A psychologist would probably have a field day with this little avoidance technique.)
I find a lot of worthwhile endeavors in life end up on the "need to do, but never get around to" list. Organizing the work bench in the basement or washing the windows certainly would be nice but clearly are a luxury I can live without. Five books sit on the shelf waiting to be read. I wonder how many times the library will let me continue to renew them? Three years of photos, stuffed in a bag, wait in my bedroom to be sorted into albums. Every now and again, the bag falls over - probably a cry for attention. I carefully prop it back into place and go about my day.
A shoebox full of notes and momentos, meant for my youngest child's baby book, seek my loving attention. This one is particularly sad as my "baby" turned 17 last week. Forget the poor misunderstood middle child syndrome, its the youngest that typically ends up short-changed on the baby book front. Why is life is so full of worthwhile "should do's" that never get done?
I am cruising through my "to do" list today. I've already checked off "submit newsletter article" and "set up networking lunch." Now I can check off "write blog." Since it's raining, I can even check wash car and water new grass seed off the list. Stay tuned folks - I am getting dangerously close to "Exercise!"
Oh, I make a "to do" list, almost every day. What a sense of accomplishment I get as I check things off throughout the day. But even if I put "Exercise!" at the top of the list, I can spend an entire day avoiding it. I have even been know to add and check off additional "to do" items during the day if the list of remaining items is getting short. (A psychologist would probably have a field day with this little avoidance technique.)
I find a lot of worthwhile endeavors in life end up on the "need to do, but never get around to" list. Organizing the work bench in the basement or washing the windows certainly would be nice but clearly are a luxury I can live without. Five books sit on the shelf waiting to be read. I wonder how many times the library will let me continue to renew them? Three years of photos, stuffed in a bag, wait in my bedroom to be sorted into albums. Every now and again, the bag falls over - probably a cry for attention. I carefully prop it back into place and go about my day.
A shoebox full of notes and momentos, meant for my youngest child's baby book, seek my loving attention. This one is particularly sad as my "baby" turned 17 last week. Forget the poor misunderstood middle child syndrome, its the youngest that typically ends up short-changed on the baby book front. Why is life is so full of worthwhile "should do's" that never get done?
I am cruising through my "to do" list today. I've already checked off "submit newsletter article" and "set up networking lunch." Now I can check off "write blog." Since it's raining, I can even check wash car and water new grass seed off the list. Stay tuned folks - I am getting dangerously close to "Exercise!"
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
We Hear What We Want to Hear.
I'm writing a book. Did you know? I can't imagine you don't. I tell everyone - friends, family, colleagues, the cashier at the grocery store . . . . .
As I write, I meet other writers. I hear about the dozens of query letters sent to agents and publishers, followed by rejection letter after rejection letter. I hear how writers "rework" their manuscripts, again and again. I hear the most common mistake writers make is to "over write."
Some of these I choose to ignore - like the rejection rate. After all, you need to do what you love and you need to have faith in yourself. I look at it like the lottery - "you gotta play to win". (and somebody does win) But it really is amazing how we allow ourselves to only hear what we want to hear. It's a gift really, and a curse. We listen, but then we pick and choose what we think really applies to us.
I learned a valuable lesson last week. I over write! I knew it was common for new writers, but certainly that did not apply to me!
Many months ago, I posted a quote on my computer which I found in a writer's magazine. It reads, "Seventy percent of a first draft is garbage and 30 percent is gold, but you have to write 100 percent to get that 30." Imagine, my pleasure when I completed my first chapter and only ended up with 25% on the cutting room floor, instead of 70. I was so far ahead of the game - I was patting myself on the back as I trotted to the head of the class. Wrong!
An intense manuscript rewrite last week (following comments from an editor) had me sorting through a lot of garbage. I mean a lot of garbage. Because, guess what? I over write!
My revised book proposal is off in the hands of an agent now, so we'll see if I've cleaned enough garbage out of my pot of gold. If not, I'll simply buy a bigger shovel and go at it again.
As I write, I meet other writers. I hear about the dozens of query letters sent to agents and publishers, followed by rejection letter after rejection letter. I hear how writers "rework" their manuscripts, again and again. I hear the most common mistake writers make is to "over write."
Some of these I choose to ignore - like the rejection rate. After all, you need to do what you love and you need to have faith in yourself. I look at it like the lottery - "you gotta play to win". (and somebody does win) But it really is amazing how we allow ourselves to only hear what we want to hear. It's a gift really, and a curse. We listen, but then we pick and choose what we think really applies to us.
I learned a valuable lesson last week. I over write! I knew it was common for new writers, but certainly that did not apply to me!
Many months ago, I posted a quote on my computer which I found in a writer's magazine. It reads, "Seventy percent of a first draft is garbage and 30 percent is gold, but you have to write 100 percent to get that 30." Imagine, my pleasure when I completed my first chapter and only ended up with 25% on the cutting room floor, instead of 70. I was so far ahead of the game - I was patting myself on the back as I trotted to the head of the class. Wrong!
An intense manuscript rewrite last week (following comments from an editor) had me sorting through a lot of garbage. I mean a lot of garbage. Because, guess what? I over write!
My revised book proposal is off in the hands of an agent now, so we'll see if I've cleaned enough garbage out of my pot of gold. If not, I'll simply buy a bigger shovel and go at it again.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
My New Best Friend
I have a new best friend. His name is Chris. He is in my kitchen right now, hanging cabinet trim as I type. Chris is my new best friend. Why? Because he actually shows up when you need him. Isn't that the hallmark of any true friend? OK, I pay him for his work, but don't we repay all our friends in some way?!
Before Chris, my best friend was Bryan. He was here everyday for weeks working on my kitchen renovation. I likde Bryan. He was quiet and polite. His talents were many - dry wall, electric, carpentry and plumbing. He owned every tool imaginable and he brought nice guys with him on occassion to help out. He charged a fair price. He did great work. But then, he stopped showing up. And he stopped answering his cell phone.
It's been 4 weeks today since I've seen Bryan. I've given up leaving messages on his cell phone. Last I heard, he was taking a trip to California. I didn't read of any planes crashing so I can only assume he landed safely. My brother thinks he's probably in jail, but I prefer to imagine him surfing the waves on the west coast. Some of his tools are still here. I put them out back and covered them with a tarp. Perhaps some day he'll come back and get them.
I told Chris this morning I was so happy to see him. I tell him that every morning. Truth is, I'll be even happier when I don't see him anymore. That will mean the renovation work on my kitchen is done. My relationship with Chris is short term. Perhaps he will become one of those dear friends you touch base with on rare occassions but alway remember fondly. I hope so.
Before Chris, my best friend was Bryan. He was here everyday for weeks working on my kitchen renovation. I likde Bryan. He was quiet and polite. His talents were many - dry wall, electric, carpentry and plumbing. He owned every tool imaginable and he brought nice guys with him on occassion to help out. He charged a fair price. He did great work. But then, he stopped showing up. And he stopped answering his cell phone.
It's been 4 weeks today since I've seen Bryan. I've given up leaving messages on his cell phone. Last I heard, he was taking a trip to California. I didn't read of any planes crashing so I can only assume he landed safely. My brother thinks he's probably in jail, but I prefer to imagine him surfing the waves on the west coast. Some of his tools are still here. I put them out back and covered them with a tarp. Perhaps some day he'll come back and get them.
I told Chris this morning I was so happy to see him. I tell him that every morning. Truth is, I'll be even happier when I don't see him anymore. That will mean the renovation work on my kitchen is done. My relationship with Chris is short term. Perhaps he will become one of those dear friends you touch base with on rare occassions but alway remember fondly. I hope so.
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