One of the most romantic songs ever written...

...is by Lyle Lovett.

You might already know the song. The name of it is "If I had a boat..."


If you haven't heard it, please scroll waaaaayyyy down to the bottom of my blog and select the very last song (number 105) and hit that little arrow to make it play...I'll wait while you do it...and hey, while you're grabbing the song get a kleenex cuz this post is sure to make a tear or two well up in your eye...

...

Hey, what's taking you so long? Geez, did you take a potty break or what.

OK, now that you hear it playing you see what I mean, right?

The lyrics are so touching...

If I had a boat
I'd go out on the ocean
And if I had a pony
I'd ride him on my boat
And we could all together
Go out on the ocean
Me upon my pony on my boat

If I were Roy Rogers
I'd sure enough be single
I couldn't bring myself to marrying old Dale
It'd just be me and trigger
We'd go riding through them movies
Then we'd buy a boat and on the sea we'd sail

The mystery masked man was smart
He got himself a Tonto
'Cause Tonto did the dirty work for free
But Tonto he was smarter
And one day said kemo sabe
Kiss my ass I bought a boat
I'm going out to sea

And if I were like lightning
I wouldn't need no sneakers
I'd come and go wherever I would please
And I'd scare 'em by the shade tree
And I'd scare 'em by the light pole
But I would not scare my pony on my boat out on the sea

And if I had a boat
I'd go out on the ocean
And if I had a pony
I'd ride him on my boat
And we could all together
Go out on the ocean
Me upon my pony on my boat

...but maybe the song isn't really the romantic thing.

Here's the romantic thing. Mr. Jenny and I just celebrated our 11th Wedding Anniversary. And my sweet Mr. Jenny actually danced with me to that song in my office without even making fun of the words...


OK. So he did make fun of the words just a teeny, tiny bit but...

SERIOUSLY...

How many guys would even attempt to dance with their two-left-footed wife to Lyle Lovett singing about riding a pony on a boat?

The most romantic song every written.

What did I tell ya?

Sigh...

A tale of fear and romance...

...the fire was lit. The table beautifully set...champagne was chilling... I had adorned myself in a slinky little dress sans spanx...the only thing dangling was my sparkly earrings because my arms had somehow, magically become firm and young and smooth...my husbands full head of thick hair glistened in the light of the fire...

WHAT????

Hair????

Hold on a second.

OUCHHHHHH! (I pinched myself too hard I think!)

And now I awake to the reality of our Friday night.

I was tired. I had on my fancy red flannel nightgown...the one with plaid that makes me look hot! My only accessory was matching red fleece slippers. Hey, when you've got it, you've got it! Who needs all that fancy stuff like dresses, make-up and combed hair anyway.

We were laying on the couch watching the American Idol results show. Nothing says romance more then watching peoples dreams get shattered.

We were eating plata de carne from a Mexican restaurant...and, hey, nothing says romance like a plate of meat. Right?

The only conversation between us was along these lines, "hey, do you have any green salsa left?" and "do you miss Paula?"

It was a typical, romantic, Friday night love-fest at our house.

And then it hit the magic hour. The sweet spot of the evening. Eight o'clock!

I heaved myself off the couch, brushed off all the meat crumbs to our weiner dogs great delight and went to get my nightly medicine. Nothing exciting except for melatonin, calcium, magnesium and progesterone.

My husband had gone earlier in the day to the blending pharmacy to pick up my new prescription for the progesterone because my doctor wanted me to try switching from capsules to cream.

Now you see the romance unfolding, don't you?

Huh?

You don't?

Well, just wait. I'm getting there. Don't rush me.

When you get old like me and the doctors remove all those excess female parts you need some magic elixirs like progesterone and estrogen or there would be no romance. Ever. Trust me on this. I know what I speak of.

And actually, come to think of it, there would probably be no husband sticking around to even have romance with...zero hormones equals zero sweetness. At least for me!

So I open the little prescription bag and I see this... and I dig around in the bag and there are no instructions. Hmmm...

OK, this shouldn't be too hard. I read "Apply 1 ML (2 turns) to wrists every evening at bedtime."

OK. I turn the little blue knob thing. Nothing happens. I poke and I prod and I pull on all the moving parts I can find. And nothing happens.

I take it to my husband who is in a meat induced stupor on the couch impatiently waiting to see who gets the final ax on American Idol and I ask him to try.

He tries everything he can think of.

We look at each other.

He has fear in his eyes.

He knows what will happen if I do not have my progesterone. I will awaken him at 3 am unable to sleep and possibly weeping.

He tries harder.

The blending pharmacy is only open until 5, Monday through Friday. Uh oh.

So we take the little evil bottle into my office and google every possible combination of words trying to find instructions on how to get the ridiculous device to work.

No luck.

I call some people I know who take hormone therapy. Nope, they just squirt it out of tube. I leave some messages and send some texts to other people but I don't hear anything back.

OK, I'm getting annoyed.

I dig through my medicine drawer looking for an errant progesterone capsule that might be laying there for some reason.

Nada.

My husband fear increases.

"I'm tired," he whines, "I need to sleep tonight."

We decide to call the 24 hour pharmacy by our house.

My husband describes the dispenser. The pharmacist says "bring it up and we'll figure it out."

So my husband gets clothes on he can wear in public and puts on his shoes and goes up to the pharmacy.

He is gone a long time.

He comes home looking defeated.

He says, "we pushed, we pulled, he took it apart...he says just squirt some out and rub it on your wrist and call the blending pharmacy on Monday."

I'm not sure about this theory. I take quite a few meds and they are pretty carefully balanced out and if one goes out of whack then everything goes out of whack pretty quickly. Monday is three progesterone doses away.

But then the phone rings.

It is a very sweet lady I know answering my urgent text. "Oh no, what's wrong?" she says before I even say hello. Perhaps texting 911 was a tiny bit over the top.

Oh well. Dramatic crisis requires dramatic action!

So, I ask her how to dispense the cream. I cross my fingers while I'm asking because I know she gets her meds at the same blending pharmacy I do.

And she tells me. OK, first there is a little bit of screaming about sending a 911 text in a non-emergency...but then she tells me how to make it work!

She says, "turn the little blue knob until the holes line up on the top and push the little button on the bottom of the dispenser."

Button?

Button?

Oh. Um. Yea. There is a little button.

I thank her profusely and show my husband the little button.

He says, "that wasn't there before, was it?"

So I try the instructions.

And it works, perfectly.

We both exhale.

I apply 2 turns of the cream.

And we resume watching American Idol.

And if that is not a tale of fear and romance I don't know what is.

There is no terror greater then a man watching his woman run out of hormone replacement therapy.

And, just forget the dangly earrings (or arms), forget the sleek black dress, forget a full head of masculine hair gleaming in the firelight. There is nothing romantic about those things at all.

Romance is a guy who is willing to step away from his meat platter, get dressed, drive to the pharmacy and spend 20 minutes trying to figure out his wife's progesterone cream dispenser.

Awwwww....

Sigh...

Which reminds me. Did you enter the Lisa Leonard necklace giveaway. That is another serious "awwwwww".

We interrupt this blog to bring you ...

...a special romantic bulletin.

Nothing says "I love you" better then texting.

If your loved one is planning on attending a big sporting event like ummm.... ummm... The Fiesta Bowl here's what you do. Especially is they are a big Boise fan.

To accomplish it correctly you must be watching the same event on TV so you know exactly when to show your love and then.... tap, tap, tap... here's what you do...(translations provided for non-texting readers)

Me: Hi!
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Him: Hi wtchng gm hr (Hi! Watching game here!)
Me: Just wntd 2 say i lv u! (Just wanted to say I love you!)
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Him: Gm is tied (Game is tied)
Me: Can u tlk now? (Can you talk now?)
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Him: L8r k? (Later, ok?)
Me: sure
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Him: Evrthng ok? (everything ok?)
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Him: ??????
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Him: Jnny ????????
Me: Sure! Im good go horned frogs!
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Him: Wrng tm (wrong team)
Me: srry! go horned toads! (sooorrrrry. Go Horned Toads!)
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Him: Wrng tm!!!!!!!!!!! (Wrong team)
Me: srry (soooorrrrry)
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Now just wait, wait, wait until TCU is almost Boise intercepts TCU pass and tap, tap, tap...

Me: o no!
Him: trng phn off now (Turning phone off now)

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Wait. Oh oops. I meant to stay "we interrupt this blog to bring you a special bulletin about how to annoy the heck out of your husband!"

Hee hee!

But actually I think I'm doing him a favor.

You know...letting him know I'm thinking about him while he's gone and all.

Hee hee!

OK.

So perhaps it wasn't the best way.

I know.

Next time he goes to a big sporting event I'll sneakily tape this sign on his back so he'll know I really care! Sigh.

PS! Great game TCU and Boise!

The romance continues...

So the groom and three of the kids took off for where the noon ceremony was going to be held.

I finished getting ready with the two remaining daughters PLUS a daughters friend. By this time I was feeling really quite ill. My throat was killing me. I felt like I was burning up. Very bride-like!

And on top of that I had this annoying buzzing in my ears that was becoming increasingly hard to hear over.

But we all piled in the car and got to where the ceremony was being held.

This was a lovely place. There was a small fountain with a classical guitarist playing lovely music and about fifty guests gathered around. The music was beautiful many people told me. I couldn’t hear it over the buzzing in my ears.

Oh, and I forgot to mention but two days before the ceremony the minister had taken ill and we had to scramble to find someone else that could do the ceremony on Saturday. I was puzzled when a woman I had never seen before came up to me and told me she was ready to start. Who was this? It was the new stand-in minister who we had never met before.

The ceremony started. I couldn’t hear a word. I was just trying not to throw up. It was very romantic.

We got to the part of the ceremony where my husband was going to give gold chains and a little speech to my kids about joining our families and blah, blah, blah and I was going to do that for his kids. I think he did great. There were lots of hugs and some tears. Yea, yea, whatever. “Hurry this up so I can lay down” I was thinking.

Then it was my turn. And I could not remember what I was supposed to say. My almost- husband stepped in and gave his kids the chains and I have no idea what he said to them but there were more tears and hugs. And blah, blah, blah…I was just trying not to fall over.

Next we exchanged our vows. And for some reason the only word I heard was “bzzzzz, bzzzzzzz, zzzzzzz…povery…mumbbble, bzzzzzz” I interreupted to say “POVERTY? WHAT ABOUT POVERTY?” and the minister and my almost- husband said this was part of the vows and blah, blah, blah, so I said “I do” and he said “I do” and we were married.

I didn’t care. I thought I was dying even worse now. I could hardly hear anything with this buzzing and I was super dizzy.

But, hey, it was a wedding and isn’t there some saying about “the wedding must go on”?

So it did. (wow, this is getting long. Do you need to take a potty break? I do! Be right back!)

As the reception started we heard a commotion out in the lobby. Somehow we had each arranged a mariachi band and neither band was very happy with the whole situation. My new husband got them settled down. Actually I think he payed one of them to go away.

And the reception stretched on.

I was told that the groom gave a beautiful speech to me during his toast. I literally could see his mouth moving but could not hear a word.

I tried dancing with him but I was so dizzy I thought I would fall over.

I could not eat a thing. It looked amazing. It looked delicious. It made me want to throw up.

Finally I went into the restroom and lay down on the floor. The cool tiles felt wonderful on my burning-up face. I laid there for awhile and one of my girlfriends came in and got all upset and I got all upset and we both started crying, although I had no idea of why I was crying. I’m tellin’ ya. I was just sick, sick, sick.

My parent left early to take care of my sister.

One of the other guests wore a beautiful white lace dress and at one point I told Steve just to marry her because I was too sick and she was dressed for the part. He told me it was too late, that we were already married.

Acccck. Finally this was over.

The kids all left with many admonitions not to get arrested or burn the house down (that is an entire other story…sigh)

And we retired to our honeymoon suite in the hotel.

Steve kept trying to help me (or perhaps he was just trying to have some bridal night fun - ha) but I just wanted to be left alone. By this time I could barely stand up and could not hear at all with the buzzing. I felt like I had boiling water poured over me.

Steve tried being sweet and I kept saying “leave me alone” and he tells me now that I told him I wanted an annullment because I wasn’t going to ever get married again AND I took off my dress because it was too hot and I threw it in the trash. I don’t remember that at all.

At four am we had an urgent call from home that one of the sons was really, really sick and needed to go to Urgent Care…

…so Steve and I packed up, ran home, got the kid and both of us went to Urgent Care!
Both of us had strep throat AND my blood pressure was above stroke level (because of the strep) which explained the fever, the buzzing, the dizzy and everything else.

All Sunday the two of us were raging sick.

I have no idea what anyone else did. And actually I could have cared less.

Monday we went to court with our daughter. (another long story)

And on Thursday we finally got to go on a quick little “honeymoon” trip to Northern AZ. And it was fun.

And I decided I liked my new husband! In fact, I loved my new husband! And I decided I wanted to have a another wedding because I really, really don’t think the one we had just endured counted at all.

My new husband thought it really wasn't worth taking the chance on having all that bad luck find us again! Hmmmm....

And now, here it is ten years later. And all year my husband has said we would have a little wedding ceremony since I couldn’t recall the first one at all. And we’ve been talking about this for months.

Which means, of course, that several months ago I started having some health issues that have laid me up.

Which means, of course, NO WEDDING CEREMONY! (which doesn’t totally, totally surprise me!)

But you can put away your kleenex now because with our without a remembered wedding ceremony marrying my husband is the absolute best and most wonderful thing I have ever done. Ever.

We have lived through drama, illness, death and even some of the dreaded POVERTY!!!!

And we have gotten closer and more in love.

But I won’t bore you with all that mushy-gushy stuff.

To close up this post I thought I’d share some wedding photos with you.

But wait. I only have a few.

Why? Because the photographer messed up the film from the wedding. True story.

But I suspect you are not the tiniest bit surprised.

Sigh…

A Romantic, Almost-10th-Anniversary Post

...or not...

Tomorrow is our Tenth Wedding Anniversary. Hooray.

The traditional gift for a tenth Anniversary is tin or aluminum. Hmmmm…

I don’t think you should send us a tin or aluminum gift but I do think you should rejoice with us in a wedding that seemed doomed from day one.

Oh, I don’t say this lightly. Heaven knows we were in love. It would be so much nicer to say “young” and in love but I was 40-something, he was 50-something and we’d both been around the block a few times.

The marriage came after a funny, super-long-distance courtship. He was an ex-pat living in Mexico City and still had his apartment there when we got married. I was a certifiably insane single Mom living in Phoenix.

But that is another story for another time.

This story is about the wedding.

When he had been up we had planned a great wedding at a neat hotel pretty close to us and since we had both enjoyed a lot of great times in Mexico City we had arranged for a Mariachi Band, tequila toasts, cuban cigars (ssssshhh) and lots of great food.
We had also arranged for all our combined kids to be present. Two nineteen year olds, two eighteen year old and a sixteen year old.

That alone should have warned us there would be trouble.

But we had no idea exactly what would happen in that final week before the actual ceremony.

Now the youngest of this group of kids had been giving me some rebellion problems for a few years and she decided that particular week would be a great time to get arrested. So she did. Yea. It was not good. It was got even more stressful when I found out her sentencing was set for the Monday following the actual wedding ceremony. OK, there went the honeymoon.

AND my youngest sister who had been quite ill for a lot of years had decided that might be a good week to die. And she whole-heartedly attempted it ending up in the hospital in critical care.

AND my husband-to-be got detained in Mexico City with a business crisis so I was valiantly trying to manage all the crisis PLUS the final wedding plans all on my own.

AND the company I was working for had filed bankrupcy earlier in the year. I had arranged for the week off but another round of lay-offs occured that week. As HR Director (and the only employee left in the HR department) it was my job to tell people they were being laid off less then two months before Christmas. No vacation time. Just a lot of tears and anger from shocked employees.

And in between all this there were kids to pick up at the airport. Visits with caseworkers for my little juvenile delinquent. A houseful of kids who seemed to delight in encouraging new levels of noise and commotion. AND there were nights spent in the hospital spelling my poor Mother so she could get some rest which also meant I had no family to help me with the whole wedding mess.

I was supposed to be relaxing, getting my hair done, getting a mani-pedi, finding my dress. Yes, I had procrastinated on the whole dress issue. First of all I hate shopping for clothes. Period. Second of all I hate wearing dresses. Period.

On Thursday I found a few minutes and rushed into a department store only to find absolutely nothing I liked. Or should I say only to find absolutely nothing that dimished my haggard appearance. I ended up buying some purple dress that I detested.

During the nightly long phone calls (trust me, you do not want to know how much those phone bills were!) my soon-to-be-husband and I had I cried, he listened. I said we need to postpone this thing, he said “there may never be a better time. Let's just do it.”

It was soooooo romantic.

Or not.

My sister got out of the hospital fairly stable on Thursday.

I refrained from killing all the rest of the noisy kids in the house with great difficulty. I refrained from killing the juvenile delinquent with even greater difficulty.

The groom got to Phoenix on Friday.

And by this time I couldn't care less if we got married or not.

All I really wanted to do was lay down and sleep for about a month.

On Saturday morning I was a wreck.

My fiance was all giddy and happy and la-la-la we're getting married.

I was all exhausted and sick and I think I really disliked all five kids. And I came down with a huge case of cold feet. The absolute most freezing feet ever.


I had sworn after my first marriage of 19 years failed that I would never, ever, ever get married again. What was I thinking?

Sure I loved this guy but what did that matter?

The big day continues tomorrow….

How do I love thee...

Let me count the ways... and to the end of that list I'll now have to add one more - Sharpie art.

My sweet (decidedly non-artistic husband) was helping me last night take care of our three little houseguests.

I could not find the oldest ones (7 year old granddaughter Julia) lunch box and she told me she had lost it and just took her school to lunch in a bag. That's OK a lot of places but in the heat everything gets kind of melty and nasty lukewarm.

So Steve rummaged through the nightmare in the garage and found an old animal printed thermal lunch pack we had. And then he disappeared for quite a while and when he came back....ta da!
Although he didn't draw the little lime green censor area he did put little embellishments all over her name.

And that just touched me.

No complaints about rummaging through the 110 degree garage.

And then to try and make her lunchbox fancy and pretty.

Awwww. What a guy.

The list grows longer.

And now I don't have to try to figure out what all this deep stuff means: I love thee to the depth and breadth and height, My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

I can just put "Sharpie artist" on the top of my list and call it a day.

Sigh.