Saturday, June 20, 2009

One Dead Clown Deserves Another


On our way back home from an early Father’s Day gathering at my brother’s house, my husband, Gene, witnessed a near-miss collision on Interstate 35 between a semi-truck and a small car. He said, “Limpy just about got it.” “Limpy?” I asked. Gene replied, “Yeah, Limpy the Clown. He’s coming up beside us now. He cut right in front of that truck when there was barely any room to get in.” I looked over, and sure ‘nuff, there was a clown in full makeup.

Stenciled on the side of his car was “Limpy the Clown”, along with his telephone number. On the back windshield, it said, “Clown Around”. If he isn’t more careful, ol’ Limpy may need to change his signs to “Limping the Clown” and “Limp Around”.

I was surprised to discover that many people don’t like clowns. In fact, those with an excessive fear of clowns are said to have Coulrophobia. BBC.com reported,

“A University of Sheffield study of more than 250 children, aged four to 16,found the images [of clowns] were widely disliked. Even some of the oldest children found the images scary…We found that clowns are universally disliked by
children. Some found clowns quite frightening and unknowable.”

My niece, Callie, really doesn’t like clowns. I’m not sure if she has coulrophobia, but if she does, it’s likely my fault. One year, in my other life, I worked as a window cleaner with a friend. We wore cute, short, bright-colored overalls with matching hats as we cleaned the large storefront windows of many businesses. On Halloween, my girlfriend and I dressed as clowns. We had the big shoes, the clown makeup, striped socks and fake hair. We looked really, really good. I called my sister, Cameron, and suggested that she and Callie, who was 3 or 4 years old, come see us, since we were working in her part of town.

Cameron pulled up in her car while we were washing windows. As she and Callie drew near, I said loudly, “Hi Callie!” Callie recoiled in horror. She hid her face in her mother’s neck. Cameron tried to soothe her, “Callie, it’s your Aunt Grayson. See, she’s dressed up as a clown for Halloween.” Callie shook her head and wouldn’t look at me. “It’s me, Callie”, I pleaded, “it’s Aunt Grayson!” She kept her face hidden and began to cry, so Cameron took Callie back home.

(Click on this picture to see a larger image)

On the other hand, two of my other nieces, Corinne and Cassie, love clowns. For her 5th birthday party, Cassie requested that Zippy the Clown, who she’d seen at Zilker Park, make balloon animals for her and her friends. Zippy was a total hit among the numerous 5-year olds and their moms. I was mesmerized as Zippy blew up each skinny balloon with his own breath, not a pump. And, despite each painful sounding squeak, screech and squawk, Zippy managed to contort the colored rubber sausages into palm tree hats, heart bracelets, puppy dogs, alligators and more. Callie, now a teenager, would not go outside to watch the show.


When my husband found out I was writing my blog about clowns, he commented, “It’s a tough life trying to make a buck as a clown. Most people clown around all their lives and never get paid for it. By the way, where’d Limpy get his name from? His ex-girlfriend? Makes ya wonder. Frankly, I think clowns are borderline cross-dressers.”

In honor of my niece, Callie, I offer these clown jokes for her personal enjoyment:

1st Cannibal: “How was dinner last night?”
2nd Cannibal: “I had the clown. It tasted kind of funny.”

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How do you make a dead clown float?
Take your foot off its head.

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What's the difference between a dead cat in the road and a dead clown in the road?
There are skid marks in front of the cat.

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Why aren't you allowed to incinerate clowns?
They burn funny.

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How do you kill a clown who has big floppy shoes?
With a big floppy sack of door knobs.

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What's better than a clown falling out of a window?
Another one below him.

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I love you, Callie!!

Keep Clownin’ Around, Y’all!

Sunday, June 14, 2009

When Gene Met Grayson...A True Love Story


Our remarkable love story begins in February 2002 in Austin, Texas. My girlfriend, Susie, had asked me if I would find out about the LDS singles’ activities and attend some of the functions with her. She was newly divorced and needed a sidekick to help her learn to re-socialize with members of the opposite sex. Considering I was an expert at meeting men, I gladly obliged.

The first function we attended was the Willow City Loop Bluebonnet Tour.


There were only 7 or 8 of us, who showed up for the activity. I was dating someone at the time, so I didn’t have my Man-Antenna up. Gene, pictured to the far left, wasn’t terribly impressed with me (2nd from the right). He enjoyed talking to me, but thought I was stuck-up.

The second time we encountered each other was at a Single Adult Break-the-Fast Potluck Dinner. Gene asked if I would be interested in going out with him and I said yes. He took me to an indoor football game. Not exactly my idea of a romantic first date, but he had front row seats and the game was very exciting. We talked in the parking lot afterwards for quite awhile, and as we shared some of our past experiences, I got the impression that Gene was still pining after an old flame. I felt relieved, because I was just looking for friends to go out with. I was still in love with my boyfriend who lived in Utah.

Later that night, on his way home, having felt unexpectedly attracted to me, Gene called me from his cell phone. He asked if I’d experienced any stomach problems from eating the nachos at the game. He explained that after dropping me off, he had prayed to Heavenly Father about whether I was “the one”. He immediately felt sick to his stomach and had to pull the car over and vomit. Hearing that I hadn’t felt ill, Gene said he took this as “a sign”.

What?! A sign?!! I pretty much turned my ears off at that point. I was still alarmed that he’d prayed about me, much less that he’d vomited in response. I decided to nip this nonsense in the bud and told Gene that I just wanted to be friends and wasn’t interested in romantically dating him. I didn’t even give him a chance to explain that his interpretation of the “sign” was a “no” or "not now" answer from God.

I didn’t hear from Gene for a few months. I figured he’d been pretty upset with me. I mean, after all, telling a man you just want to be friends is usually interpreted to be the kiss of death for anyone with romantic intentions. Gene finally came to terms with his feelings for me and concluded he would like to remain friends.

From that point on, Gene and I enjoyed a wonderful friendship. We met every other week or so in search of the best burger in Austin. The conversation was always stimulating, and although I never thought we found the perfect burger, I did find a perfect friend. We went out to various cultural events over the next couple of years, always as “friends”, and I began to see how varied Gene’s interests were. He enlightened my mind about spiritual topics, motivating me to do more independent study of the scriptures, as well as broadening my life experiences by taking me to wonderful events, such as the Cirque du Soleil, “Greater Tuna”, a Chicago concert, IMAX movies, museums and more.


A few of my girlfriends commented that they could tell Gene loved me. “I know” was my reply, “but, he’s just not my type.” Of course he wasn’t my type. Gene would never leave me or divorce me or mistreat me. He would never dishonor me or be unfaithful. Gene would never disrespect me. This was a revelation I would come to much later in our relationship.

Gene and I had a special connection – a spiritual connection, I’d say. There I was, sitting at home, the day after surgery, and my phone rang. It was Gene. He said he’d felt prompted to call me, and wanted to know if there was something wrong. How uncanny, I thought. While that same sort of thing happened a few more times, I still didn’t give it much weight until a few years later.

I met a man from Plano, TX on the Internet, and I married him after dating for a year. I had even introduced Gene and a few of my other friends to my fiancé before we married. While Gene was disappointed not only that I hadn’t picked him, but in my poor choice of men, he wanted my happiness more than anything else. I invited Gene to our wedding reception in Plano and he attended, along with several other single friends from Austin.

Within six months, my marriage fell apart. I’d discovered that my husband had been seeing other women and was on 19 singles websites. I was crushed and depressed. My husband had moved out and filed for divorce. I was unemployed and unable to will myself out of bed to face the day.

One morning, my phone rang. It was Gene. He said, “I have felt strongly the past three days that I should call you, but I kept resisting because you are a married woman. I felt the prompting again today. Is there anything wrong, Grayson?” I burst into tears, regurgitating all the ugliness of my discovery. Gene didn’t judge me. He didn’t say “I told you so.” He just listened. And, that is what I needed.

Gene called me every morning and every night for two months. He counseled me about forgiveness and shared wonderful scriptures with me that helped me learn those lessons I needed to take away from that painful experience of divorce. He pointed me to the Savior. He shared his own painful experiences. He made me laugh when I didn’t feel like laughing. But, most of all, he showed me what real friendship is. I didn’t have to go through that pain alone. He helped me carry my burden.

At one point, I thought I would like to give our relationship another romantic chance. I invited Gene to visit me in Plano, which he did, and we had a delightful visit, touring Fort Worth. But, Gene had me on a pedestal, and I was uncomfortable being in that position.

I pursued other suitors and met a man from Martha’s Vineyard Island, who I dated and married the following year. Again, Gene, although disappointed in my decision, was happy for me, hoping I had found true love. And, again, I chose poorly. At one point during my marriage, Gene sent me an e-mail, later saying he’d felt prompted to contact me, but was uncomfortable doing so since I was married. This time, I responded that all was well. But, all wasn’t well. Especially not for my husband, who ended up divorcing me after only 9 months of marriage.

Broken-hearted and mentally bankrupt, I returned to Texas to regain my footing and heal from the hurt. I spent a year in psychotherapy with a wonderful woman, who helped me understand the reasons for my poor choices in men. I learned a great deal about myself. Using the lessons I had been taught by Gene about forgiveness, I set about letting go of the pain and resentment I carried for my husband. In time, I was able to let go and forgive.

It was during this time that I experienced some of my most profound spiritual progress. I immersed myself in the Scriptures. I studied about marriage, forgiveness, eternal life, the gifts of the Spirit, and more. I felt such a calm sense of peace and love come over me. I knew my Heavenly Father and my Savior, Jesus Christ, were close and loved me. I began to feel healed.

Although I had been searching for a job since my return to Texas, I began more earnestly to find a job in Austin, Texas, to be nearer to my son and other family members. I felt the need to contact Gene again, to let him know of my return. I desired to talk with him and renew our friendship. However, it was a few weeks before I mustered up the courage to e-mail him. I had failed again, and didn’t know if Gene would even be willing to befriend me once more. I worried that Gene might even be married or dating someone seriously, which would not have surprised me.

Gene replied with a short e-mail, and we e-mailed back and forth a bit. But, it was two months after our first e-mail before we spoke on the phone. I knew something had changed. He was still that wonderful friend, but he was calmer. I didn’t hear excitement in his voice. I asked Gene if he was still playing softball, and he invited me to a game that following month, in September.


I’m not sure what I expected, but I most certainly didn’t expect to feel attracted to Gene romantically. After all, I never really had before. What would’ve changed? Yet, I was undeniably attracted. I thought my life with men was over, but here was my friend, Gene, just as calm and confident and handsome as I had never seen him before. What was wrong with me? I enjoyed his softball game immensely and joined Gene and some of his teammates for lunch afterwards before heading back to the Ranch.

The next week, another reason to visit Austin presented itself and I called Gene to let him know I was in town. He invited me to the movies, and so I joined him. While the movie wasn’t all that great, being near Gene was. Something had definitely changed. I couldn’t put my finger on it at that moment. We spoke in the parking lot for a while and when Gene asked me a question about my failed marriage, I began to cry. He put his arm around me from the side and let me keep talking, as he stroked the back of my head. It was not romantic or forward. It was a genuine, loving gesture, one that a real friend would make towards another.

Returning to my psychologist, Pam Bailey, that week, I expounded on all my confusing feelings and desires. I explained my past relationship with Gene, and Pam smiled and listened. I told her that I just couldn’t understand why I was feeling such attraction to Gene for the very first time in our relationship. She pondered out loud that I’d spent a great deal of time learning about the unhealthy patterns of my past relationships, and perhaps I’d just recognized a really good man. She speculated that Gene had placed me on a pedestal, and when I disappointed him by marrying someone else the last time, he’d taken me down off that high point. The conclusion rang true inside me. I asked Pam what I should do, and she wisely stated that time would provide me with my answers.

After several more enjoyable outings with Gene, which usually included our resident chaperone and dear friend, Bobby. I finally asked if I could speak to Gene alone. I told Gene how I’d been feeling, and asked him whether he might consider “dating” me again. He confirmed that he had taken me off the pedestal, and we shared how we’d miscommunicated in the past or not provided valuable feedback that might’ve taken our relationship in a different direction. He told me we could try it again, but I needed to understand that he was dating other women. I was elated that the bridge between us was still intact.


It was almost as though I knew where our relationship would take us. I felt such overwhelming gratitude for Gene’s forgiveness, his friendship, his acceptance and tolerance of my past actions, and I felt gratitude to the Lord for allowing my path to cross Gene’s again. My moment of clarity came as I realized I wanted this gratitude, this feeling about this wonderful man, my friend, Gene, to never end.

A week or two later, Gene asked what I thought about him dating me exclusively. The words would not come, so I reached over and kissed him. It was our first kiss. Because I’d had so many candid discussions with Gene over the years, I knew that kissing, for Gene, did not necessarily have serious meaning behind it. While he had been discerning in his past, he was, after all, a man. And as we all know, men like to kiss women. But, his kisses were sweet and tender and loving. To me, they expressed all those feelings I had inside for Gene, and somehow, I knew he was showing me how much he loved me, by letting me get close again.

Our conversations deepened as we began to share those secret thoughts we’d had about each other over the years. And, my love for Gene blossomed. I had loved Gene as my friend for years. But, now I felt something new, something unexpected and exciting – a romantic love. All the pain and suffering, as a result of my own poor choices, had humbled me and brought me to this point. I had learned so much about myself and what I wanted and didn’t want in my life. This man before me was someone I wanted in my life, for as long as he would stay.

So, one afternoon after another fabulous discussion on the front porch of Gene’s house, Gene asked me a probing question, whether I might ever consider marrying him sometime in the future. The answer, while not a direct yes or no, rolled right out of my mouth. “I love you, Gene.” And, Gene replied, “I’ve always loved you, Grayson.”


In March, Gene and I joined my parents and my brother’s family in Rockport, TX for a relaxing weekend in my aunt’s gorgeous vacation home. We were there for Oyster Fest, and it warmed my heart to see how easily Gene fit into my family. My dad acted like he’d found a new best friend, and the two of them got along famously. My father gave Gene a hug before we left and later told me Gene was the first man I’d brought home that he liked. Having my father’s approval, while not necessary, meant so much to me.


Just think...seven years ago I could’ve had the kind of man I always dreamed about. In my journal entry, dated October 14, 2008, I wrote,
“…My telephone discussion tonight with Gene was inspiring and encouraging. Gene said he’s always known that he has everything I need, but that when we first met, I might not have everything he needed. He was right. I had to traverse a number of unsatisfying, unhealthy relationships before I suddenly hit my head,like “I could’ve had a V-8!” and realized that Gene has been there all along. He has always loved me….We are equals. He says I’m the only woman he’s dated that he ever felt that way about. He says I inspire and motivate him, which he also does for me. He’s always taught me things which enrich me, as well as the spiritual connection we have. He has always followed through on promptings,calling me when I needed to be called. By doing so, I know that my Heavenly Father loves me and is aware of me….Tonight, Gene also said something else ofgreat interest. He said he’s always felt a desire to take care of me, to nurture me and help me. And, how often have I desired that kind of love? All my life. Six years of knowing this man, and I never really allowed our relationship to progress further than friendship. Yet, it’s good. It’s good to finally be able to see who he is, and to be attracted to this healthy man.”


Regretting the past won’t change it, but it’s only human to look back and think of the time we could’ve had together. After his Memorial Day visit to the Ranch, Gene made a funny comment. My mother is an outstanding cook, and had prepared a delicious barbequed brisket, a fresh squash medley and corn-on-the cob. It was, by far, the tastiest, most tender brisket I had ever eaten. Later, Gene commented, “I just realized I could’ve been eating your mother’s cooking for the past seven years!” He acted mad for just a moment to stress his point, and then he laughed.

What Gene and I both understand clearly is that it took every moment of the past seven years to bring us together. There were things I needed to learn. Paths of people I needed to cross. Sharp edges that needed smoothing. Healing that had to take place. Gene, too, had his own set of personal hurdles to overcome.

I am just so grateful that the scales fell away from my eyes, and I finally was able to “see” Gene with a new pair of eyes. We need each other. We love each other. We deserve each other, and together, we will accomplish all the Lord has in store for us.

Deserve Each Other, Y’all!

Thursday, June 11, 2009

I Do and I Did


“Love is the emblem of eternity: it confounds all notion of time:
effaces all memory of a beginning, all fear of an end.” --Germaine De Stael


If getting married was a sport, I’d be an Olympian! Gene Nelson and I entered into holy matrimony on June 6th. But to tell you the truth, it’s an absolute miracle that we ever crossed the Finish Line. There were a number of obstacles lying in our path.

About a week before the wedding date, Gene asked me what documents we needed to bring with us to the Travis County Clerk’s office to obtain a marriage license. As I looked online, I found a qualifying sentence that deeply disturbed me. It read:

If you have divorced and your divorce was final within the last 30 days,you must bring a certified copy of your divorce decree which states the thirty-day waiting period has been waived.

I just about had a heart attack. My divorce had been granted on February 18th, but in Massachusetts there is a 90-day waiting period before it is finalized by the judge. That meant my divorce was finalized on May 20th. Our wedding date was June 6th…only 17 days after the final divorce date. What was I to do?!

I called my divorce attorney in Massachusetts. He didn’t answer his office phone or his cell phone. I sent him an e-mail. Rather than waiting on him to get back to me, I called my mother to find out the name of the attorney she had originally thought I could use for the divorce.

Nancy Yates Anglin, attorney-at-law in Hamilton, Texas, quietly listened to my story, injecting a few questions here and there. When I finished, she began looking through her law books for information, but said she’d never actually done a waiver to the Texas 30-day waiting period. She didn’t think there would be any problem getting a waiver signed, seeing that I had already sent out invitations, ordered the cake and reserved the church. I was grateful for Nancy’s optimism, and we scheduled an appointment for the next day.

She told me to bring a copy of my divorce papers to my appointment, so I began to search in all the usual places. I couldn’t find them! I drove up to the Ranch to search there. I still couldn’t find them. I gathered up all my files and returned to Austin, searching through them again and again when I arrived. Nothing. I tried to stay optimistic.

I finally heard back from my attorney, who then informed me that the document I’d received from the court was not the final decree. He still had to get that from the court. That information nearly sent me over the edge. He assured me that I was divorced, and he would fax a copy of the decree and other divorce papers to my Texas attorney before my appointment.

When I arrived at Nancy’s office in Hamilton, which is a 1 ½ hour drive from Austin, she informed me that they had not received anything from my divorce attorney. I called him from my cell phone, and he assured me he was on his way to the courthouse. (Did I mention that during the course of my divorce, my attorney had brain surgery and was getting a divorce himself?) My confidence began to waiver when he called me back and let me know that the printer at the Edgartown courthouse was broken. He’d have to go back the next morning. (“And how much is that going to cost me?” I wondered.) By noon the next day, my divorce attorney had the Decree Absolute, had overnighted me a copy and faxed a copy to Nancy.

Meanwhile, Nancy had placed a call to the judge, requesting 10 minutes of her time on the Tuesday before my wedding. She had an opportunity to discuss the matter over the phone and she faxed the judge a copy of the Waiver Order she’d drawn up. The judge agreed to sign it on Tuesday and made time in her schedule. I was told I didn’t need to be at the Coryell County Courthouse in Gatesville, but I drove up there anyway. I wanted that signed piece of paper in my hot, little hands, leaving nothing to chance.

The judge had a good laugh at my expense and ribbed me a bit, all in fun, before signing the order. The judge, in her entire career on the bench, had never encountered such a situation. She wished me much happiness, and as I waited outside the courtroom for my attorney to get the order registered by the County Clerk, I could just barely hear the judge talking about my case with two other female attorneys. The courtroom was atwitter.

The next morning, which was Wednesday, about 10AM, Gene and I met at the Travis County Clerk’s office to file for the marriage license. Couples must obtain a marriage license at least 72 hours prior to the wedding. My wedding was scheduled for 1PM on Saturday. We had just scooted under the wire. Whew!

By that afternoon, Gene was experiencing a Cold Feet Attack. Gene had been speaking to his attorney, who he’d sent a wedding invitation. Gene’s attorney called, whipping up a frenzy, insistent that Gene execute a Pre-Nuptial Agreement because of issues from his last divorce. This heaped a pile of unnecessary anxiety onto Gene’s mound of pre-wedding jitters. [Note: Gene’s attorney did not show up at the wedding….good thing, too.]

Following the question of whether I would sign a pre-nup, to which I agreed, Gene began talking of wanting to take a vacation, and presuming I might not be able to take time off from work, he was already making provisions to go with a friend. The combination of those two items mentioned in one breath 3 days before our wedding, along with my state of PMS, could’ve resulted in severe head trauma for Gene or at least him being slapped seriously baldheaded. But, the meds I take are absolutely marvelous.


“The loving are the daring.” --Bayard Taylor

I chewed on the information he’d laid in my lap for about 30 minutes and then asked if we could talk. I calmly explained to him how I felt and why my feelings were hurt. Gene suddenly shared how much it hurt him when he realized he had hurt my feelings and confessed all the fears he’d had. He told me how much he really loved me. I just had to smile and all those hurt feelings fizzled away. We hugged and cuddled for quite some time, amazed at how the week’s stressful events had wheedled a wedge in between us.

Amazing to both of us, that day was a real turning point for our relationship. Gene no longer wanted a pre-nup, decided to wait and travel when I could go with him, and solidified his commitment and love for me. I had never experienced anyone feeling hurt from unintentionally hurting me. I had never experienced this kind of love from a man. I already knew what a special man Gene was, but it was amazing to see how open and honest communication brought new light to bear on our relationship and elevated our feelings to the next level of love and commitment.


Successfully navigating all the hurdles in our way, Gene and I were able to walk down the aisle together as husband and wife, crossing that Finish Line in peace and harmony and adoration. We both earned our Gold Medals of Love!


“What greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined... to strengthen each other... to be at one with each other in silent unspeakable memories.” --George Eliot

We Did and We Do, Y’all!!

Friday, May 22, 2009

Walk Down No Memory Lane


I’m reading a book my mother gave me, called Still Alice, by Lisa Genova. Mom said she couldn’t put it down and thought I would enjoy it as much as she did. The main character is a 50-year old woman, who is diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer ’s disease. The book is extremely well written and takes the reader inside the thoughts of the main character, dramatizing the effects of the disease on her family. However, after a couple of weeks, I’m only halfway through and keep putting the book down, because the story hits way too close to home.

Yesterday, I had three items on my errand list: 1) Go to the post office and submit a change of address, 2) Buy blank address labels at Office Max, and 3) Shop for a dress to get married in. (Yes, Gene eventually did formally propose marriage, and we are getting married on June 6th.) Not being terribly familiar with the downtown Austin area, I asked Gene for directions to the nearest post office and Office Max. I didn’t write down the directions. That was my first mistake.


From the softball fields where Gene had just finished playing his game, I was to travel along Pleasant Valley Road and turn east on 6th Street to get to the post office. “Here’s 5th Street”, I said to myself, be-bopping along in my Durango. The next street I came to was 7th Street. “Hey, wait one minute! Where’d 6th Street go?!” I figured that I must not have been paying attention, so I turned right on 7th Street and cut back across on the next road, expecting to intersect 6th Street. But instead, I came upon 5th Street again. What in the world?!!! I was terribly frustrated, remembering that I had opted not to change my address online because of the $1 fee, realizing I had likely used up about $5 worth of gas at this point. I tried calling Gene from my cell phone, but there was no answer.

Not wanting to waste anymore of my time looking for the hidden post office, I headed toward Office Max. Gene and I made the trip to Office Max just a few days before, so I thought I knew where it was, but as I began to travel in the maze of downtown Austin, I realized I had no clue where the store was located. I circled the same blocks over and over, expecting a different result, but Office Max simply was not where I thought it was. I called Gene again; Still no answer.

As I expanded the perimeters of my block search, I spied the downtown post office. At least I’d found one item on my list, albeit not the location I was originally searching for. I completed the change of address form, but couldn’t decide which one of the receptacles to place it in. In the area where the stamp would’ve gone were the words “No postage necessary if mailed anywhere in the U.S.” “Should I put it in the “Stamped Mail Only” slot or the “Metered Mail” slot?” I asked myself. I mean, after all, there was no stamp on the form, and it hadn’t been metered either. Why was there no “None Of The Above” slot? I finally opted for “Stamped Mail Only” and, on my way out, thankfully had the wherewithal to ask a man in the lobby where the nearest Office Max was located. I was so close to Office Max I could’ve spit on it, as the crow flies. But seeing as I was driving, it took me another ten minutes of navigating one-way streets to get there.

Feeling elated with a sense of accomplishment after leaving Office Max, I decided to go shopping at the Barton Creek Mall. As I approached the mall parking lot, my cell phone rang. No, it wasn’t Gene. It was my dear friend, Paula. We were having a wonderful conversation and still talking as I drove into the mall, parked the car and went inside. I shopped for a couple of hours, but did not find what I was looking for.

My feet hurt. My back hurt. I was hungry and tired. Not a good combination. Overly ready to leave, I walked out the JC Penney exit to the parking lot and looked about. None of the scenery was familiar. I surmised that I must’ve come in a different entrance. Not finding another exit in JC Penney, I walked back into the mall. I looked around, but couldn’t put couldn’t recall coming through any of the entrances there either. I obtained a store directory and looked it over, determining that I must’ve come in at JC Penney.


Returning to the original JC Penney exit, I walked into the bright sunlight, stared at the rows of cars before me, but did not see mine anywhere. Assuring myself that my car must be close by, I walked further into the parking lot. After several minutes of walking, shielding my eyes from the brightness and mindful of my aching back and sore feet, I became more and more dismayed. What if I was getting Alzheimer’s, like the woman in my book? What if Gene never answered his phone and I wandered in the parking lot for years like Moses in the wilderness? Would anyone I know ever find me? Nobody knew where I was.

I called Gene’s phone again, and this time my son, Eric, answered (he’s now living in the trailer house behind Gene’s home). I asked him if Gene was there and he found Gene outside, watering the plants.

“This is going to sound weird, Honey,” I said, “but I’m lost in the Barton Creek Mall parking lot. I can’t find my car anywhere.” Gene calmed me down and suggested I push the Panic Button on my key fob. Now, why didn’t I think of that? He said, “Walk around the parking lot, and if you’re within 100 feet of your car, the alarm will sound.” Great idea! Now, I only had to will my aching feet to walk around the mall parking lot while I pressed the button.


Endowed with a great deal of resilience, I set out with my new plan, pressing my Panic Button. I walked around the corner of JC Penney toward Dillard’s and saw another exit not listed on the store directory. Suddenly, I knew where my car was parked. As I walked toward it, I pressed the Panic Button anyway, just to test out Gene’s theory. Like balm to my soul, the alarm sounded. No more need to panic.

When I got home, I began reading Still Alice again. I didn’t get very far, though. I fell fast asleep.


From the movie, “Finding Nemo”:
Dory: "I suffer from short-term memory loss.”

Marlin: “Short-term memory loss?” (Dory nods) “I don't believe this!”

Dory: “No, it's true! I forget things almost instantly. It runs in my family! Well I mean... at least... I think it does. Hum... Where are they? ... Can I help you?"

Never Give Up, Y’all!!

Sunday, May 17, 2009

When It Rains, It Pours


Yesterday was a day full of service, food and fun. Gene and I attended the annual Austin Single Adult Picnic at church. Since Gene was ultimately responsible for the event, I offered my assistance by helping him shop at Sam’s Club for the burgers, dogs and fixin’s, and I whipped up a Darn Good Chocolate Cake as my own contribution.


The picnic started at 11AM and a small number of people arrived at that time. Within 30 minutes or so, I noticed the sky looked ominous. Gene had just gotten the outdoor grill going and had a few burger patties cooking, when we felt the first pitter pat of raindrops. That’s when Gene directed us to move the picnic inside the church building. I was already on my way, and as if it were my baby, I swept the chocolate cake up in my arms, trying to lean over it in protection, as I half-walked, half-ran to the building. Before I was even halfway there, the heavens opened up, and it began to pour.

Austin hasn’t had significant rain in quite awhile, and it’s been desperately needed with daily temperatures hovering in the hot and humid 90s. I commented to Gene that I couldn’t believe it rained on the one day the picnic had been planned, and he replied that they should’ve planned more picnics last year when it was so extremely dry. Plan a picnic, it’s gonna rain. Wash your car, it’s gonna rain. There are some universal truths we cannot deny no matter how much we may want to.

Although I’m sure the weather kept many of the singles from attending, we had about 23 people show up for burgers, hotdogs and brisket. Oh, and I received another marriage proposal. As you may recall, a few blogs ago, I wrote about a man at a church singles event who wanted to know which sister had made the chicken salad, and when I raised my hand, he asked me to marry him. Well, yesterday while we were all eating our picnic fare indoors, Gene said he had an announcement, asking who had made the chocolate cake. Wondering what he was up to, I raised my hand. Gene asked me if I’d marry him.


Maybe I’m just not on the ball, but I didn’t say yes and I didn’t say no. Friends of ours kept asking if this was an announcement. I thought Gene was just being funny, so I didn’t say anything at all, I just laughed along with everyone else. Gene and I are getting married, though. We’ve talked about it these past couple of months, decided we want to marry and last week even set a date (June 6th), but until yesterday, Gene had not formally proposed. I had asked him not to propose until the waiting period was up on my divorce, which was granted in February, but not effective until May 17th.

Gene and I have known each other for over seven years, and have always been able to talk about anything, so I did ask him later whether the proposal had been “for real” or if he’d been kidding, since I’d been asked at the last event. “Well,” he said “I was kidding, but…well, you didn’t say yes.” He had jokingly told a friend, who was ribbing him about staking out a claim before I get snatched up, “I know! There’s a marriage proposal sign-up sheet in the kitchen for Grayson, and I’m fifth on the list!” Funny man. I told him not to quit his day job.


Later that evening, we joined our friends, Hal and Trudy, at their beautiful home for a scrumptious lasagna dinner. There were five other people there as well, and a group of us went out afterwards to Esther’s Follies, a vaudeville show in Austin on 6th Street. The show was full of very current political satire, fast-paced skits, bawdy humor and side-splitting laughs, as well as a fabulous comedic magician, Ray Anderson. This is a must-see for Austinites and visitors alike!

A perfect ending to a perfect day with my perfect man!

You come to love not by finding the perfect person, but by seeing an imperfect person perfectly.
~ Sam Keen

Love works in miracles every day: such as weakening the strong, and stretching the weak; making fools of the wise, and wise men of fools; favouring the passions, destroying reason, and in a word, turning everything topsy-turvy. ~ Marguerite De Valois

All love that has not friendship for its base, is like a mansion built upon the sand. ~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Let Your Love Rain Down Today, Y’all!

Monday, May 11, 2009

Rhythm of the Ranch


Out in the rolling hills of the Central Texas landscape sits the Double M Ranch, an oasis of creature comforts and real Southern hospitality. This is the home of my parents, Max and Glenda.

My mother is the best cook in Coryell County, and she exudes a welcoming spirit and a hearty, infectious laugh. This weekend we were treated on Saturday to a moist, delicious meatloaf lunch with perfectly mashed potatoes, a zucchini medley, homemade cornbread and fresh watermelon. To satiate our sweet teeth, Mom had an apricot tort and a Darn Good Chocolate Cake, along with Blue Belle Dutch Chocolate and Mocha Madness Ice Creams.


The menfolk retreated to their napping spots after lunch and they were not seen or heard from for a few hours, while the women lasted a bit longer by cleaning, chatting and putting off the inevitable nap. That’s just the way it is at the Ranch – great food, a stylish comfortable country home worthy of any decorating magazine, clean country air, peace and quiet. A body can’t help but leave the stresses of city life at the welcome mat.


For dinner, Mom fed us a sweet, country ham and corn-on-the-cob with leftovers from lunch. After church on Mother’s Day, Mom served us a tender roast with rice and brown mushroom gravy, along with green beans and mushrooms, salad, dinner rolls and watermelon. We delved into the Blue Bell Ice Cream again, and once again, the men drifted off to Z-Land in the afternoon.


Mom and I sat outside on the front porch, with my two nieces, Cassie and Corinne, watching the hummingbirds at the feeder. The ceiling fan was on, which cooled us. The moment was brief, though, as my nieces got a case of the Giggles. All it took was one look at each other and they were off again, laughing and giggling, unable to stop.

Then, I saw a long lizard scurrying across the grass and pointed it out to them. The two girls both squealed and ran after him. Corinne and Cassie cornered the lizard on the sidewalk, not sure what to do next. But, that ol’ lizard was one step ahead of them. He changed directions and ran toward me and Mom, but Cassie blocked him. He skidded and slowed as he turned back toward the grass and then high-tailed it into the shrubs to safety. After all that running around, it was time for a “lenomade”, as Cassie pronounced it.


What a wonderful, Mother’s Day weekend in the country at the Double M Ranch just livin’ on Texas Time.

Enjoy the Journey, Y’all!

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Popping The Question


Almost every little girl dreams of growing up, meeting her Prince Charming one day, falling madly in love and hearing that oh-so-special question, “Will you marry me?” I, however, was a tomboy growing up and had decided I wouldn’t marry until I was in my 30s. I never really thought I was that attractive to men anyway, although I craved attention from them.

Needless to say, marriage proposals did come my way…often. I married at nineteen. I married at twenty-six. I married at thirty-five. I married at forty-six, and I married at forty-eight. And, I’ve heard that “special question” even more times than the five proposals that ended in marriage.

The first time I received a marriage proposal was when I was seventeen years old. He was twenty-six, and when he asked me to marry him, I said “yes”, because I thought no one else would ever ask me again. (Oh heck, I always said yes.) I couldn’t understand why my mother wasn’t happy about it. I mean, wasn’t that what girls were “supposed” to do, grow up and get married? As a teenager, my self-esteem was very low. I’m just glad I didn’t go through with it.


Another boyfriend asked me to marry him when I was about twenty-three. He bought me the big, beautiful diamond engagement ring, but we never seemed to agree on when to marry, and after all, he was a bizarre psychotic alcoholic. So, in the end, of course, I couldn’t marry him. Whew! Another near miss!


At thirty-two, I met a musician, who also owned a catfish restaurant (now, that was a plus), who also wanted to marry me. We were going to have a Cajun-style marriage party, with his buddies from the band playing for us and his best friend cooking the crawfish étouffeé. Yet, three weeks from the wedding date, I still hadn’t mailed the invitations, and, in retrospect, I am grateful I didn’t follow through.

The first time I traveled to meet Hubby #5, I was proposed to by the United Airlines skycap, who checked in my bags at 5:30 A.M. An older black man, he asked if the amethyst ring on my left finger was an engagement ring. “No”, I replied, “I’m not married.” “Pretty woman like you, not married?” he said. “Well, would you marry me?!” I beamed my best smile, laughed and said, “You just made my day. That’s the first marriage proposal I’ve received today.” I definitely had my groove on that day.

This past Sunday, I attended a potluck dinner for the single adults at my church. I called my mother for her Chicken Salad recipe, which I knew was easy and yummy. As I suspected would be the case, there was no chicken salad left to take home after the dinner. Following the potluck, we heard from a wonderful speaker and his wife, who I just happened to know. And, when the speaker concluded, a short, balding older man stood up and asked in a very serious voice, “Who made the chicken salad in the glass bowl with the red top?” I raised my hand, thinking he must want the recipe or that someone might’ve keeled over with food poisoning. As his eyes settled on me, he excitedly asked, “Would you marry me?!!” Everyone began to laugh. I think I turned red. Later, as we were filing out of the room, I walked up to the would-be suitor and said, “I’d be glad to give you the RECIPE”, which of course meant, “Cook it yourself.” Looks like I’ve learned to say “no” in my own special way.



If you are a single woman in the market for a husband, below is my mother’s recipe for chicken salad. Be careful who you serve this to!

Glenda’s Chicken Salad
o 1 whole chicken, de-boned and diced
o Bunch of red grapes, cleaned and cut in half
o 1 cup of pecan halves
o 4 stalks celery, sliced
Dressing:
o 1-1 ½ cups mayonnaise
o ½ - ⅔ cup sour cream
o ¼ cup sugar (to taste)
o ½ - 1 teaspoon coarsely ground black pepper (to taste)

1. Cover the chicken with water in a large pot and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and continue to boil chicken on medium low heat for 1 ½ hours. Let chicken cool. De-bone the chicken and dice into bite-sized pieces. (Save the broth and freeze for your favorite chicken soup recipe later.)
2. Combine chicken, grapes, pecans and celery in large bowl.
3. In a separate bowl, whisk mayonnaise, sour cream, sugar and pepper until thoroughly combined and smooth.
4. Pour dressing over the chicken mixture and toss to coat.

Some women collect dolls. It seems I collect marriage proposals. However, getting a marriage proposal is not necessarily all it’s cracked up to be. I mean, I can get a man hooked, but I just can’t seem to keep ‘em. And, I’m not sure I should’ve “hooked” any one of the men I said “yes” to anyway. Knowing when and how to say “no” is just as important as knowing when to say “yes”, because Prince Charming really is worth waiting for.


Know When To Say No, Y'all!