He's So Fine

How many women wish that once in their life they got to date that hunk that looks like the guy that walked across the beach on one of the episodes of Bay Watch?  I was tired of the blonde bombshells

and the brunettes with the bodies that looked like that spent every waking moment at the gym between eating carrot sticks and protein bars hanging on their arms of these guys. Or pretending there was a shark in their vicinity when they weren’t fake drowning getting the macho men!  I was going to land one if it killed me before I died.

So several years ago, in one of my single periods, across the multitude of nameless faces, I spotted my prey. He was looker alighty but has to rename nameless, maybe more for his protection than mine. Plus, well I will get to that later.  At the time, I simply thought for months, out of reach, not in my league however, I did feel the woman he was with was not up to snuff. How can you not evaluate the women these guys are with? I found myself sinking to that low I accuse others of doing, women cat-nipping each other.

So, I eyed him, discreetly at first, than openly hoping to catch his eye. Over time, I did and flashed my dazzling smile. Okay, that may be stretching it abit but hey, my smile was really stretched large for his benefit. With large dark brown eyes, strong shoulders, beautiful thick brown hair, and a thin trimmed beard to match, he was hot.  His body build was too. When he walked in the room, even the men took a side eye, sorta glaring at him as their wives and girlfriends stopped listening to their idle chatter. 

He began smiling back at me which I saw as encouragement to begin plotting my web of capturing him in a lovefest!  How to begin with a person out of my reach?  Could it materialize?  I knew his parents so I   worked on becoming closer to them, that part was easier because I adored them and they began to feel the same about me. I was invited, over time to their home and to home parties.  Eventually, lo and behold, who should be there, surprise, but he. Imagine my surprise, him and I in their beautiful luxurious home at the same time? Wow, what a coincidence! Imagine my acting skills playing that one off? 

As we began chatting at their home at a party, and I was internally monitoring my heart rate, I mentioned how difficult it was, at times to reach his mother. Looking back, how transparent is that?  Knowing he worked at the same company as his mother, he offered his phone number letting me know he could reach her if I couldn’t. When he flashed his smiles at me during that conversation, I was so glad my friend was next to me so I didn’t fall back leaving her to swoop me back off the floor. If it had stopped there, I think I would have been satisfied.

I left that party, two weeks before Christmas happy. Two weeks later my phone rang. I answered it and Mr. I –Want-Under-My-Christmas-Tree was on the line. I counted to 10, then asked if he could hang on a minute and put the phone down. I then made a mad dash around the house two times while my kids asked me if I had to pee. This was simply to calm my nerves as the hot looking male model was on the telephone talking to me. Hell, it could be accidental but my hormones were in overdrive! I was ready to dump the guy I was dating and hadn’t even picked back up the phone!

When I did, we chatted. He wished me a wonderful holiday and asked if he could call on me after the holidays. I nearly pulled the phone cord out of the wall!  And thus began my several months of dating the guy on my wish list and the best and sometimes worst experience of dating.

What I learned from Mr. I Am So Hot is he did not know how to treat a lady because he didn’t have to. Women were so ingratiated by being with him that little was expected of him. Oh, that would not do for me and I let him know. For some reason, he actually liked this and found it amusing. Simple things like, calling in advance of showing up when I was a single mother with two children. Imagine my surprise when I am going over homework with my kids and he shows up with pizza at 8:30 p.m. at night when it is bathtub thinking he is super cool to my kids? It was clear he was not daddy material.

Okay, I will say it because everyone wants to know, at least the women so I will satisfy your curiosity, yes it was great.  Don’t pretend not to know what I am talking about. If you don’t, well I can’t help you there!  And yes, he taught me more than anyone in my life. I am going to go out on the line and assume it is because he had so much of it. With looks like that, I don’t think getting it was hard for him. So it was definitely a graduate level class for me that I enjoyed taking!  However, in time, his ideas got weirder and weirder, way outside just about anyone’s comfort zone I know. So NO became a normal response! Or, “What the hell?”

The other thing about good looking guys I learned is they can get by with an awful lot solely on their looks. It is funny to me that his mother told me this. She told me that I would find he lacks common sense. She was right. He also lacked any kind of sense, he was just plain odd. I had a hard time following him when we got into any kind of in-depth conversation. And for my part, if I discussed anything remotely complicated, such as politics, attitudes towards education, etc..he got lost. His statements back made positively no sense. I began to think it was pointless to have any discussion with him beyond where we were going to eat, what we were going to do and what his latest greatest new invention was going to be.

 Oh, did I not mention he was into an Inventors Club and constantly creating ideas.  This was a “secret.”  A club that was supposedly “confidential” as their inventions were to be pattoned thus shared only with members. I was to feel privileged because he would share them with me. God were some of these the most useless things imaginable. At least though the other guys created them, my dude just talked about them and did nothing with them.

Eventually Mr. Hot-To-Trot got so comfortable with me and turned on by inventions he started talking about them during sex. At that point, I asked my close friend for advice, “How do you get a guy to shut up during sex?” Her advice, “Put a bag over his head!”  I said “But he is good looking.”  She suggested duct tape. I asked him the next time I saw him if there were any inventors working with new taping products we could try out as something kinky fulling intending on using it on his mouth. No luck.

Eventually I learned he had another woman on the side. I was hurt, disappointed and relieved at the same time. A voice message was left on my recorder by the woman screaming at me that she had found out about me and that if I really didn’t love him, please back out of his life so she could have him all to herself. Far be it from me to stand in the way of true love.

He seemed far more bothered about this than me, calling me for weeks on end to reconsider. He swore he could see me discreetly without her knowledge. I pointed out of course he could, he had apparently been doing that for some time, according to her message. Oh, her second message apologized for the first, crying and saying it was fine to see him. She was so kooky I determined they were actually well matched, much better than he and I. Why should I stand in the way of progress anyways.

I am glad at age 57 dating some hot chick magnet is not on my Bucket List. It is not all it is cut out to be by any stretch. Being vain is not really all that fun to be around, it wears thin pretty quickly and leaves the other person either feeling empty or like me,  laughing a lot behind the scenes. His looks began to look a lot less hot. Oh, you will overlook so much for some guy that is just smokin' that it begins to be hysterical!  I really found myself laughing right infront of him. I look back and am amazed he liked me more because of it!  What was wrong with him, he should have been insulted. I told him right to his face.  What a dufus! 

The song “He’s So Fine” doesn't  apply to him anymore. Sad to say, his looks are long gone. He can't rely on them anymore. I am told he looks now like a hobo. Perhaps he never did come up with that wonderful invention he always dreamed of creating. He was too busy  and should have concentrated on  it instead of landing his next prey. Do-lang, do-lang, do-lang

Grandma's Church is Mine Too

I have been asked many times why I practice Catholicism. The question must stem because I am an independent thinker and there is a conception that being Catholic is rigid in believes which is really not founded in truth.  All churches have foundations but the people that practice their faiths have their own individuality. Mine is grounded in my grandmother’s love of the church and in me.

My Grandma Gliatti, as I called her, was as devoted to the Church as anyone I ever met in my life. She was Italian, coming to the United States after marrying. One of the things she retained is her Roman Catholic faith. That aspect of her life never changed till the day she died.

One weekend a month, my dad would load up the car and off we would go to Toledo, Ohio to head to Point Place to see Grandma and Grandpa.  All of those visits were always welcome trips at a time when many kids hated being away from their friends. My joy was being around my grandma. She was and is the purest form of love to me. 

When Dad would leave us alone with her to go out at night, she would talk to my sister Terri and me about God and her faith. She explained to us about faith and about the Catholic Church, how much she loved it and her devotion to it, from the time she was a little girl. We, at the time, were not practicing Catholics.  My sister was a few years older and remembers the content more than I do but I remember her Catholic prayers at that time.

When Grandma got too sick to go to Mass, she would sit on Sundays in front of the TV and turn on Mass. She would go through the entire Mass reciting all the responsorials as if she was attending. If we interrupted her or were too loud, she would shush us. This was important to her and we all knew it.  It made quite an impression on me and stayed with me. Mass was a must for Grandma.

In my life, no one seemed to love me like Grandma Gliatti. She was the unconditional love person God put in my life. No one had that kind of unconditional regard for me and I believed some of that came from her love and faith in God.  She thought I was loveable for just being me. 

I remembered her faith and chose to raise my children in the Catholic Church. I taught my children the same lessons my grandmother taught me. “No matter what happens to me, God will always be with you and his love is far greater than mine. He will also see that I will be watching over you.”  

I wanted my kids to know that faith mattered, keep the lines open to God I would reinterate. I wanted them to know I unconditionally loved them so told them every night. I even gave them the sign of the cross on their forehead when they were asleep before I went to bed, even when they got older. This was something done to me when I was confirmed in the Catholic church. I wanted God to always bless them and watch over them, part of my Catholic faith.

Now I have stayed with the Catholic Church because every time I attend, I sit in Mass andI  am at home with Grandma. I feel her there with me, smiling knowing I am following the faith she told me was such an integral part of her. I feel God’s love there too. I feel it other places also, like when I’m outside in the yard, or in front of the ocean or in a park,  but in the church is definitely different. Grandma taught me that the cross means that God so loved me that he gave me/us his only son.  She also said that she would always watch over me. I love the feeling in my church because I get a sense she is attending it with me.

I love the ritual of Catholic Mass, the routine where I can depend on a format I can follow just like Grandma did over and over again in her living room. I know what each part means, each has a significance that relates back to faith and Christian growth. I see Grandma smiling all the while.  I am grateful Masses are said in English and much more contemporary, especially the churches I chose to attend, so it is relatable.  We all need to feel we are sitting at a table with friends and not being talked down to when at Church.

So, yes I am open-minded and progressive but I am Catholic and proud of it. I am Grandma Gliatti’s protégé even now.  I will continue to be till I die and she will continue to smile. I will continue to grow and love in faith. May you find the peace and love of God in your heart in whatever works for you! 

Psyched to Bike

I began, several months ago, bike riding to condition my body more seriously.  Prior to that, it was more about the idea of looking fit and forcing me off of the couch and computer. I felt certain any bike riding would be advantageous to my body.   The idiosyncrasies of riding a bike in a closed community were then discovered.   

  

 My primary focus, initially, was the color of my bike. It wasn’t necessary that it be color coordinated with my clothing, though that would have been ideal.  I did want something that looked more like the Health Magazine ads.  Imagining what I would look like from a side profile if neighbors were to look out their window and capture a glance of me biking down the road on my cool colored bike.  I thought that might spur me on!  I knew I needed motivation.

I settled on a bewitching silver bike, one that is sleek looking with a highlighted pink color. I needed that girly touch too so I looked like the Female Athlete of the Year.  The first time I got on my new bike, though, I felt like anything but! Speaking of butt, I never recalled those seats being so uncomfortable and hard.  I really considered buying padded pants!

Athletes can work through the grit, grind and pain. My legs felt like they were poured in gritty cement and as if weights were on my feet. I was initially sure I would make it through the whole community, heck it was flat!  After the first street on the first few days on the bike, I regretted not having my cell phone with me. I needed to call home for reinforcements, namely a pick up car to tote the damn bike home along with me!

Gradually it got easier but, at the same time, I realized that sweet habit everyone had of waving was an issue. My stability, not being what it was in younger years, required both hands on the handle bars. I was getting odd looks for not waving back at motorists waving at me. I even tried shouting “Hey, how’s it going?” Doing that when you are moving outside on a bike in Florida can get you about 4-6 bugs in the mouth each time you say it! And no response from drivers in air conditioned cars who can’t hear you! It makes it hardly worth the effort to say anything. So I have adjusted and learned to simply slightly lift up my hand ever so slightly from the handle bars or ignore those drivers and make it look like I am one serious rider on a mission!

When the weather is hot, it is impossible to bike in Florida, except at night. That is, unless you want to leave a trail of water behind you everywhere you go from your sweat and tears. The only wind you get is like the kind coming out of the oven when you pull the door open.  Add the feeling of a heat wave when you are pumping your bike pedals about 10 mph or more. Uncomfortable!   So the bike is now equipped, at night, with flashy lights so motorists can see me. But regardless, some drivers don’t like to pull over to the other side of the road to pass me even though there is no one there. They prefer to hang on to the same side of the road I am on.  Why?  These roads are not super wide.  Are they trying to either test my stability or just plain want to hit me?  I see some of the same cars so I am beginning to think I am a nighttime pastime, let’s try to hit bikers tonight!

Florida gets rain out of the blue, one minute it is dry then, whoosh, it pours! And when it does, the water has no place to go so the roads can be pretty soaked and have puddles on them. Too many times, I have been out bike riding and surprise, downpour. Riding as fast as I can back home, everyone and their brother stops me, on route. Their primary comment, “You better hurry and get home so you don’t get as wet.” Note: this is happening while I am getting soaked and have to come to a complete stop to get this advice from several different folks in enclosed cars or golf carts. Genius advice. Now, can I start pedaling again and get home?

The idea of living in a flat area that is secure for biking seems easier than out on the main roads. There is an issue though, lack of changing scenery.  To get my mile count up, I have to circulate the same roads, same houses multiple times. Thus I feel often times, like I am casing out the entire neighborhood. I know all the dogs’ routines for potty time and I see many of the same faces over and over again on the same ride. Each time they feel obligated to wave at me thus I can see a few get annoyed being friendly. Hell, I would too. Should I tell them please ignore me so I don’t have to attempt to take my hand off the steering wheel? It slows me down and I don’t always feel like being friendly either!  I wish they’d swap out their plants on each round thru their neighborhood just to throw me off abit and change the monotony.

As I have built up my legs and body, I can now ride at higher speeds and faster. I can honestly say you won’t see me on the Wide World of Sports competing.  But, I can go further distances and will continue improving. I think I will progress to going outside the community so that walkers don’t feel they are being stalked by me this coming year as my distance is improving.  The joy of me and my silver bike and the fitness I am getting from it are delightful. If you are inclined, find an exercise that works for you and laugh while hitting your goals! If you feel psyched, get a bike!

Tapestry of Your Life

I once heard someone describe our lives as a beautiful tapestry. He went on to say each thread is interwoven and may circle back with a purpose and each is put in by design

creating a colorful legacy. I rather like this imagery description of our existence here on earth.  Are we not each a master of all the images we are creating of our lives?

So what kind of tapestry are you creating?  I think the colors should be vast and variegated. Life should not be mundane or there is no growth.  A picture is captivating in black and white but a tapestry draws no attention without color. Your live should be colorful and eye-appealing if reviewed in full.

Draw outside of the lines. Conformity is entirely too overrated. Why make the picture of you look like everyone else?  I always told my children dare to be different. Be the one that stands out in a crowd. We all have a destiny. Discover yours and fill it. You can’t if you do nothing but always walk rank and file.

Dare yourself to take risks.  This is when new threads begin in the tapestry of your life.  These are the ah-ha moments that give your existence a new dimension.  It doesn’t matter if it is a new career,  a new sport, or a challenge but sometimes do the things no one things you are capable of.  Believe in you. Life is only one shot so give yourself that chance if you think it is worth taking. Passion is a hunger that should be quenched!

Don’t close the door to the past simply because it is over.  That fabric is part of your make up; it is in your tapestry and is part of your beauty with its joys and sorrows.  It is to be celebrated because it has made you part of who you are and the life you are now living.   The threads are critical to the image!

God sees our lives as a beautiful tapestry from above that we weave of our own freewill. Our choices are the ebb and flow of the wave of colors and the overall look and feel of the final image.  Additions in your life may very well be thread changes so don’t settle for staying idle, never moving forward or outward at all.

 As you move through your life, ask yourself, is there color in your life? Do you allow change and growth opportunities or do you run from a challenge that forces you to grow or become more passionate?  Do you allow any new threads to intertwine?  Do you smother the flames of any sort of passion outside your comfort zone?  

Live your life to the fullest but, define it with your own definition of greatness, not someone else’s.  Most importantly, make your tapestry a masterpiece.  It should reflect the legacy of a life fully embraced with  your passion that shows the world you alone could only create this wonderful tapestry! Get to work!  

And They Danced Their Final Dance

They were young and in love, or so it seemed because their smiles were like sunshine beams. It was if their whole life they had waited to simply get to this point, this one spot in the universe to find each other. As they gazed in each other’s eyes, they were like two crossed eye teen age lovers, so be smitten they lost track of everyone else in the room.  Young love at the final pass.

So many tender years and many of shed tears. Mountains both of these had crossed without each other. But God had brought them together, to find a love that was pure, simple and unconditional at a time in life when many simply wait to die.   These two were making new rules, making the rest of us look like fools.  They were taking love and life to new heights, embracing each other with all their might.

As everyone in the room watched, they circled around the dance floor locking eyes with

abandonment. Their bodies were swaying to the music, oblivious to the crowd who was mesmerized by the display of unbridled love on the floor of these two young old souls.  They clasped hands, smiled as their faces lit up with passion, friendship and love. Laughter rang out, peals of it though out the dance hall, making everyone else unable to contain themselves, laughing in direct proportion to their laughter.   They looked around as if surprised anyone else was in the room, smiling at others in the crowd of people but not bothered in the least that anyone see their obvious affection for the other. Public displays of affection were their reward for a life well lived, for finding their perfect mate, for knowing life is too short to stand on formality.  Many began thinking with wonder how to unleash that kind of passion, abandon stringent principles that hold us back. They whispered, “There is magic between those two!” 

The music transitioned to a soft ballad and as it did the embrace between them changed. 

The old man looked at his lady with sheer love in his eyes and put his arms around her waist to pull her inwards.  She smiled and teared up laying her arms upon his shoulders as she gently kissed his cheek. You would have thought he won the lotto with the peck he received.   They began to rock to and fro as if time stood still and it was only those two in the world.  Perhaps it was as we were all barely breathing taking it all in. How could you not be captivated watching what almost looked like such selfishly love?

Tonight, as I learned that Don is with hospice. I shall forever treasure the days I was blessed to see him dancing with his beloved Margaret. If ever a love so pure is on display, such as theirs, for you, be sure to simply be still. Watch it, closely and praise God for letting you be there, caught up in that special moment!  

It's Been A Year Charley

What do I miss most about Charley since it has been one year today since he has been gone?  

This is a toss-up since there are so many things I use to write about. He is the dog that everyone seemed to fall in love with, even those that never met him! At the end of the day, I would have to say the crazy way he had of making every day begin and end with laughter and love!

From the moment we picked up Charley he was commotion in motion!  I followed the breeder down to where he was at with the puppies in the litter all scurrying around a baby pool. Naturally the one I was taking home was literally climbing up everyone’s back as she is telling me “He is such a sweetie!”  I am thinking “He looks like a royal mess, a little bear who needs obedience training for toddlers.”

As she tried to give us all the information, he kept running away, another trait we became all too

familiar with over time. Charley was the escape artist as the neighborhood was well aware of.

Luckily all of them loved him, the big galoot. That is, except for the foul-mouthed man in the back-end of the subdivision who had lots of guns who threatened to shoot him if he ever laid another paw in his yard,  He even pounded on our door one night at 10:30 to tell us he thought Charley had been up there earlier that night while he was gone. We have no idea how when we were home all night and avoided his place like the plague!  I think, by then, Charley didn't even want to pee in his yard! I think he just hated labs or me because nobody hated Charley!  Maybe I should have let Charley get close enough to lick his face when he was outside our front door screaming. But maybe not, maybe that would have been the one time in Charley's life he'd have acted like a guard dog! God knows, at no other time did he!

Charley started the day like a little kid, bugging us to get up. If it was just me home, he literally bumped my head. If I ignored him, he jumped on the bed, and began pulling the covers off of me. Next he pulled the pillow out from under my head. Then became the face washing. Anyone that knew the size of Charley’s head, more precisely his tongue, knows you can’t stand this for any length of time!  Morning has broken, Charley style!

Taking a walk was more fun with Charley on a leash. You couldn’t help but notice every critter that moved by, even fly by leaves or plastic bags that appeared, to him, to be potential prey.  He had enough of the hunting field dog in him to want to impress us. But we had to keep it real and tell him he wasn’t all that smart and was lucky we adopted him because living on leaves and roadkill wasn’t nearly as luxurious as what we were feeding him.

One of the highlights of every summer day was watching him swim in our pool. I have seen dogs jump off a landings into pools. Charley flew!  It was incredible but not a picture of grace.  And if you didn’t want to get wet, you couldn’t be standing anywhere on the deck! We threw Frisbees and he would catch it in his mouth, he could carry it back, he could retrieve it under water. Charley was halftime entertainment for neighbors. 

Charley would swim with us and play with my granddaughter in the pool. What a joy to have a big 125 lb. moving toy in the pool who just loved being there and was interactive!  If we tried to keep him out, he sat at the window or at the patio doors barking his head off like there were burglars outside.

Speaking off security, Jim always said he was a poor excuse for protection for our home!  Jim could walk in at lunchtime or at the end of the day and find Charley sprawled out on our bed.  He walks in to where he found Charley and asks him accusingly “What if I was a burglar Charley, would you just lay there and do nothing?”  Thank God we never had to find out! I think the answer is that as long as they weren’t going for his treats, they were okay to come in to his house!

Having a dog everyone talks about because he is like a big Marmaduke is really hard to replace and get over losing. But the stories I have are endless and so many friends that knew him and of him keep our special Charley as much alive in many ways as he was for 13 years.  He was so loyal to me that during my chemotherapy, I am not sure anyone was with me as much as him next to Jim. He never left my side no matter where I was at, even hanging by the bathroom door if I was sick, whining if he heard me till I was well and back in bed or in another room and okay.

I miss him horribly but knowing, at the end, he was suffering I am so relieved he was out of pain. He deserved to be free again, at peace, in heaven running and jumping and harassing all the other dogs up there before him.  I know that I won’t have to look for him when I get up there. All I will have to do is say his name and he will come running and I need to remember to not lock my knees…..  Some things about Charley won’t change, not even in heaven!   My loveable angel Charley, love and miss you! Momma

Is the Friendship Real?

I use to write about friendships quite abit. Over the years I quit writing about them but have noticed, as I have aged, maybe I should more.  They change over time, as one ages. The

attitude about them changes, they become more valued, the close ones and the casual ones, less worrisome when they are, shall we say, fly by nights. As we become more confident in whom we are, our basis for a friendship becomes more grounded.

In younger years, the focus seems to be more on having a quantity of friends. When the time is right to go out, most of us literally flip thru the phone list of friends on speed dial finding someone free for the night. Anything is preferable to staying in or staying home alone.  The people with the most friends are equated with the person with the most personality, the one everyone seems to want to be around or emulate.

What is often the case, beneath the surface is this person is the one most craving the attention. This type of person has the most difficulty being alone and needs the constant affirmation from others. Do you know that there have been studies that reveal more intelligent people are introverts and prefer time alone rather than being with friends?  The theory also goes that more intelligent people are less likely to be brought down by friends and can be more focused on their career options and quality of their relationships which is why they prefer not to have a large quantity of friends.

Also when we are younger we use the term friend frivolously. There is a major difference between friend and an associate, someone we know casually, either through work, close proximity through another or social media or just hanging out with. A true friend is a reciprocal relationship.  Several studies have been done by psychology departments, cross-sectional and found people would be surprised to find the ones they think regard them as friends do not.

Thus, as we age, we become more attuned that to get a great deal out of relationship we must put energy into one. That takes time, passion and commitment. Who has the time and energy to do that with so many people?  Having fewer means having better. Work smarter rather than harder and have quality friendships. Many folks I know have better friendship relationships than family connections.

Connecting with people is wonderful and not to be discouraged. However, to retain and develop a relationship must take a commitment on both sides. Each relationship or rather friendship that is worthwhile is a slight cost to another friendship, in a sense or an addition to it if its meaningful and adding something to your life. I personally prefer those that build each other up, support each other’s diversity of ideas and create a supportive fun attitude of life. Without an undercurrent of accepting real unconditional regard and love, know that that friendship does matter but don’t short change the ones that will always carry a piece of you in their heart.  

Patience Sometimes Take Humility

“Patience is the companion of wisdom,” Saint Augustine said.  I was reminded that lesson today.  God is amazing that He reminds us of the truly important lessons in life in the simplest of gestures. Watch, wait and listen with a happy heart and good things come to pass to those who wait!

As I was out today, trying to quickly do some returns in the store and pick up a few needed items, I was getting rather annoyed as no one seemed to be present at any single register. Everywhere I went I was greeted with This Register is Closed displayed in black and white like a HaHa sign aimed right at me; you are wasting your time lady. I would have left but I had a return bag in my hand from an online purchase I wanted to get off my charge card.

Finally I saw a register open with a lady at it and as I  approached I noticed only one customer at the counter. As I congratulated myself on my good luck, my hopes were quickly dashed. Walking closer, this woman had the dreaded massive overload cart of too many items to count!  And she looked to me to be Miss High Maintenance.  I was in no mood for this and was hoping she would turn around, make eye contact with me and say, go ahead of me.

Well, she did turn around and look at me but the words she uttered were “I am sorry for the wait this may be.”  Oh, I felt like she had smacked me, just like those darn signs that said Register Closed. What was this, conspiracy day against Veronica Gliatti at the retail store or what?  Should I wait or should I go? 

Out comes my cell, my BFF when stuck in a slow moving line. I knew I was not going anywhere quickly. And then, to my surprise, one pair of shoes after 

another were placed on the counter. With each pair the customer insisted the cashier check each shoe to ensure the size matched the size marked on the outside box label and each shoe pair were the same, in size and style!  All I could think off, while watching this transpire out of the corner of my eye was why she could not have done this prior to coming to the checkout line! 

As this progressed, there was some discussion going on about the shoes I did not even want to hear as my frustration grew!  There were big shoes, little shoes, male shoes, female shoes, kids shoes, all clearance but I kept thinking what the hell lady, did you buy every damn pair in the store! 

At one point, the cashier actually asked her, in hushed tones, but it caught my ear, if she wanted her to call someone to get matching sizes of pairs that were incorrectly matched. I just about lost it by then, keying into my phone to my best friend my anger. What the hell is wrong with today, I asked?  Is it storming outside bad luck?  I am behind a moron shoe fetish lady!  Help me; I will need heeling after this!  If the cashier left the register to retrieve matchy sizes and shoes going to the shoe department I was determined I would consider leaving. That was where my battle line would have to be drawn.

Luck was on my side and apparently the lady said what she had that matched would suffice. There was a Shoe God! Eventually this sale was over, along with about 20 pairs of shoes  and the lady turned around, politely,  probably sensing my frustration and again apologized for taking up so much time. I naturally told her it was fine. I even said, it is a pain to get home with shoes that don’t match in sizes.  I thought, especially a whole wardrobe of them!

As the lady left, the cashier leaned across the counter towards me. She said “I was really sorry for the long wait. I wonder if you knew what she was doing and why the matching mattered.” I was about ready to respond with a curtly, “Why didn’t she check them herself” but before I could the cashier continued speaking. “That woman is mailing all of those shoes out of the country to Puerto Rico to hurricane victims. She got sizes for victims in need. Isn’t that wonderful!"

Right then and there, my sense of humility kicked in big time.  I had been so busy worrying about my sense of time, my sense of purpose, returning some dumb item that I had not even bothered to think perhaps what someone else was doing in front of me had a far greater purpose.

Too often we have people come into our lives that are meant to touch us in very special ways. We are given the chance to embrace these opportunities and must be patient about what the lesson is. We have to give it time, it may not be able to be rushed and be on God's timeline, not ours. The message may be so worth it, so valuable, so life-changing. Is it worth not learning, not taking the chance?  Dare to find out with a bit of patience. And, just like the shoes, our souls always need some healing.  

God bless the people in Puerto Rico as they continue to heal! 

Nature Brings Hope

She sat upon the porch,

With her head hanging down,

Not a soul was outside

Surrounded by nature’s sounds.

  

Her hands were clasped,

Her thoughts were far away,

A tear slipped from her eye,

On this sunny day.

A couple walked past,

At a bright cheery pace,

She heard their footsteps passing

But still hid her face.

As music began playing,

From somewhere down the street

She rose her head so gently,

And started tapping her feet.

Her demeanor seemed to change,

She looked like someone who could cope

With all that life threw at her

The twinkle in her eye was hope.

I saw a butterfly land on her finger

As she gazed at the garden

You could see her hardships

Had not made her heart harden

  

Whatever she was thinking of

Or saying a pray for

Must have felt answered

Had God opened a door?

There wasn’t a trace on her face of fears of creating new tears.