Tag: love

Looking for Love

I was an ugly duckling in my school days. I’d love to tell you I blossomed into a beautiful swan, but that would be a lie. I guess I ended up as a plain ol’ hen. Just one more duck in the flock.

But for an ugly duckling in a small town dates were few and far between. There were boys I liked a lot, but no one I felt was “the one.” The big L was evasive, and I had no indication that college would be any better. I was plain and more than a little weird. Not a great combination.

Then my family moved to Dumas, Texas, from Floydada, Texas, just as I began my senior year of high school. The high school was bigger. There was a larger dating pool. I went out with a few young men, but they just didn’t cut it. I might’ve been plain, but I still had standards.

Then, Studly Doright and I met. I’d encountered him on the condiments aisle at the Piggly Wiggly grocery store that my daddy managed and where Studly worked. Later, miracle of miracles, I encountered him outside the physical education locker rooms after second hour. We had P.E. class at the same time; although, boys and girls were segregated into different gyms in those days.

After many days of innocent flirtation, he asked me to attend the homecoming football game, and I accepted. During the first sweet goodnight kiss at the end of our very first date I was caught off guard. I’d tell you that I saw fireworks and that bells rang, but I did not. Instead, I just had this feeling of peace come over me, like I’d found a piece of heaven right then and there.

After the kiss I went inside the house. I closed the front door and leaned against it. Mom was sitting there waiting up for me with a questioning look on her face.

“Mom,” I said. “I think I might be in love.”

She didn’t laugh at me, or tell me I was being silly, or that it was just a first date and too early to know. She just hugged me.

I guess I’d been looking for love, but hadn’t really expected to find it. I sure recognized it when it arrived, though.

Peace and love, people.

All You Need is Love Me Do

Note: I wrote this a week ago, and set it to publish on Feb. 10th. Now, see the side note at the end. Well, read the piece first, THEN read the note. The timing was merely a happy coincidence.

The Beatles. John, Paul, George, Ringo. Oh! How I adored them. They wanted to hold my hand. They loved me, yeah, yeah, yeah. And they gave me all their lovin’. Paul was my second celebrity crush. Elvis was my first, but we aren’t talking about him right now.

The first time I saw the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show, my seven-year-old self was enraptured, while my dad was aghast at their hair. “Freida,” he cried, “Come look at these boys’ hair!”

I watched Mom walk into the living room to investigate what he was fussing over. The Beatles. I’d plopped myself down on the floor in front of our black and white screen tv and instantly fallen head over heels in love. They were all adorable, but Paul was the one. He sang to me. I knew that every word from his mouth was intended for me and me alone.

(That’s not me above, but it could’ve been)

If I’d been a little bit older, I’d likely have had more lustful feelings for Paul, but at seven, I just felt love in its purest form. He was adorably earnest with a mischievous smile. Unobtainable and safe. Every little girl should have such a love.

Was the music a part of it? Certainly. Who could resist Love Me Do?

https://youtu.be/0pGOFX1D_jg

I fall in love all over again when I hear this song.

Side note: On Feb. 9th 1964, the Beatles played their first television appearance on the Ed Sullivan show.

Peace and love, people!

A Little Love

When I was in fourth grade at R.C. Andrews school in Floydada, Texas, I had a teacher who didn’t like me very much. From day one she scowled at me and never let up. She might also have been scowling at the other students in my class, but her disdain felt pretty personal to me.

She was the first teacher who did not praise my early attempts at writing. I cannot recall a single positive word she ever wrote on a paper I turned in, only criticisms in bright red marks across the page.

Too LONG!

Not long enough!

Too silly!

Too serious!

You used the word love to describe your feelings for your dog and your new shoes. We only use that word for people.

Heck, I know I loved my dog, and those shoes were certainly P. F. Flyers that made me run faster and jump higher. Who wouldn’t love shoes that could do all that?

She once criticized me for using a word that she said was too big for me to understand.

Don’t use a five-dollar word when a fifty-cent word will do.

Of course I later learned that Mark Twain said that, and it makes perfect sense. But in my defense, I did understand the word: voluptuous. I used it in context, too. Perhaps that was the problem.

Floydada was, and remains, a small town. As an adult and a retired teacher I’ve speculated that perhaps this teacher held some grudge against one or both of my parents. Maybe even against my grandparents. And I received the brunt of it.

All I wanted was a little love from her, and if not love, just a little respect.

Take it away, Ms. Aretha Franklin:

https://youtu.be/JzqGZjFnYnA

What’s Love Got To Do With It?

Tina Turner sang the song of the summer in 1984, and no matter where one went it seemed that her hit, What’s Love Got to Do With It ruled the airwaves.

Studly Doright and I were coaching a girls’ softball team that summer, and our all-star team had qualified for the regional tournament in Weatherford, Texas. On one of our off days, we took the girls to a water park in Arlington, Texas, where Tina’s hit seemed to be playing non-stop. Our son was tagging along on the trip and we couldn’t get enough of the tune.

The song begs the questions, “what’s love, but a second-hand emotion?” and “who needs a heart when a heart can be broken?” Both are fairly deep topics for a pop song. I can’t address the first question, but in regard to the second one, a heart is absolutely necessary to survival. Perhaps I’m being too literal, though.

https://youtu.be/oGpFcHTxjZs

It’s still a great song, even if we’re not sure of all the answers. Love’s like that, you know.

Peace, and love, people.

Heard it in a Love Song

What’s the first song that comes to mind when you think about love songs? Do you have a favorite? Do you and your significant other have your own song?

Studly Doright isn’t much of a music person, so any romanticizing of a song for the two of us has always fallen to me. In the early days of our marriage, Afternoon Delight by the Starland Vocal Band was “our” song. It was a playful look at sex, and Studly liked that, but it didn’t really focus on love.

During the 80’s I gravitated towards Stuck With You by Huey Lewis and the News. Still not a terribly romantic song, but it seemed to fit what we were going through as a young couple with two young children. Stuck, but happy.

Aerosmith’s I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing came along in the 90’s, and I couldn’t stop singing it (badly). That’s how I felt about our relationship. No matter what we’d gone through, and we’d gone through plenty, I still didn’t want to miss the stuff to come.

I could name dozens of other love songs that meant something to me: Maybe I’m Amazed by Paul McCartney, This Kiss by Faith Hill, Whitney Houston’s I Will Always Love You, I’ll Make Love to You by Boyz 2 Men and on and on. If I had to pick just one song to choose as “ours,” though, it’d likely be this one by Vince Gill.

Look at Us

https://youtu.be/uSfjp1ky4Mw

Yes, it’s sappy, but it fits. Maybe I should tell Studly it’s our song. He’s still fond of Afternoon Delight, though. Some things never change.

Peace, people.

Love in the Time of February

During the last week of January I had the thought that I should write something about love every day in February. We need a lot of love right now. Love for our family, our friends, ourselves, even for complete strangers. And with Valentines Day sitting smack dab in the middle of the month, it seemed the perfect time to express feelings of love each day.

Somehow, though, I became distracted and forgot about the love theme. Is it okay to begin a month-long theme on the fourth day of the month? Of course it is. The only rule for blogging is: There are no rules.

So, to kick off my month of love, here’s a photo of two people I love:

That’s our beautiful daughter, Ashley, holding her nephew, our youngest grandson, Jackson, on her wedding day. Jackson is now a handsome teenager. This photo makes my heart happy. I love them both so much.

Peace, people.

A Little Felt Tree

Studly Doright and I were married in July of 1976. I was just shy of twenty, while he was only 18. Broke, stupid, and in love, we had no idea then of the hurdles we’d have to jump over on our way to 43 years of marriage and beyond.

As our first Christmas as a married couple approached we had to set some new guidelines. I was set on keeping up my family’s Christmas traditions while he was equally set on keeping his. We managed to compromise fairly well, but there was one thing I insisted on–a live tree at least six feet tall. Studly’s family had a smaller tree that stood on a short table, as I recall.

I got my way that year, and we soon had our beautiful tall tree standing in its brand new red and green tree strand awaiting decorations. There was just one problem–we had no ornaments. None. And that tree had eaten up most of our disposable income.

My mom came to the rescue. She gave us three kits of felt ornaments that I could stitch together and decorate. One set featured characters from the Wizard of Oz.

Another set included typical Christmas characters–an angel, a snowman, and a Santa.

The last set featured Christmas trees and wreaths. I’ve managed to lose the wreaths, but my Christmas trees have hung in there (pun intended) all these years.

Several days ago I was scavenging for book five in the Harry Potter series at our local Goodwill book store when I came across a little felt tree hanging from the store’s tree. It was exactly like the one I’d made all those years ago

I wondered if some young woman had lovingly stitched the pieces together, adding shiny sequins where indicated by the kit’s directions. Had she been as nervous about her future as I was about mine?

And I wondered why this poor felt tree came to be all by itself at the Goodwill store. Of course I bought it and brought it home. I introduced the ornament to its counterparts on my tree, and then I let our elf on the shelf comfort it.

Welcome home, little tree.

Peace, people.

Sitting by Nana

I’m accustomed to dining alone in restaurants, smiling at small children and making faces at babies while their elders chat and eat.

Seldom do I feel jealous of their familial camaraderie, but sometimes, I hear,

“Nana, sit here. Sit by me!”

“No, I get to sit by Nana. Right, Nana?”

And I long for those days when my grandchildren argued over who would get to sit next to me, the revered Nana, at a meal.

I watched yesterday as two young children clamored to share space with their Nana at lunch. I bit my tongue to keep from saying “Lucky you!” to the Nana being fought over. I wanted to encourage her to savor this time. All too soon these children would be teenagers obsessed with their iPhones or grumbling that they’re bored and they’d rather be with friends or hurrying through lunch because they couldn’t be late for some activity.

Nowadays, when I’m lucky enough to dine with my grandkids, I resist saying,”I want to sit by Garrett (or McKayla or Dominique or Jackson or Harper)” because that just wouldn’t be cool, but I sure think about it.

Peace, people.

A Nice Wine Makes it Right

I want to be happier than I was yesterday, but not quite as happy as I’ll be tomorrow

Like that old saying I heard somewhere when I was much younger and had better retention

Only, it had more to do with love than happiness, and while the two are closely related

They can be mutually exclusive. I’ve been happy without being in love and in love without being happy

Damn. Is that as deep as I think it is, or is that just the Cabernet Sauvignon talking?

Scout: The Inside Scoop

Our 15-year-old cat, Scout, has been under the weather the last couple of weeks.

To look at her you wouldn’t think there’s a thing wrong. She is as playful and loving as ever. Her bowel movements are normal, thanks for asking. However, she pukes. A lot. A portion of everything she eats makes a reappearance within 30-40 minutes of ingestion. Poor baby!

I took her to see the vet a week ago, and all of her vitals were normal. The doc suggested that we stop giving Scout her favorite treats to see if they were too much for her elderly system. Scout did not appreciate giving up her treats. She begged and wheedled and several times convinced Studly Doright to break the rules. I’m made of stronger stuff. I only gave in once.

This afternoon I took my Scout for a follow up visit. She’d lost a half a pound, and for a 10 pound cat that’s significant. I told the vet that Scout’s still puking a bit after every meal even without treats. She took some x-rays, and the great news is there’s no tumor.

However, one of her kidneys is smaller than the other, and her liver has shrunk. Neither of these would result in her puking, though.

The vet said Scout might benefit from a change in diet, so we’re going to try something new. She also said that maybe we could consider an ultrasound.

This is where it gets tough. My girl is 15. That’s 76 in human years. Where do we take this from here? Do I stress my kitty out with multiple vet visits, poking, and prodding? Or do we enjoy her elder years with me cleaning up vomit several times a day? Right now I think we’ll see if the food makes a difference.

Like Scout, I’m elderly. I have undiagnosed digestive issues. I’ve drastically changed my diet, and still I’m dealing with some discomfort. That doesn’t keep me from enjoying my favorite treat from time to time.

Scout’s treats look like this:

Maybe I’ll sneak her one every now and then.

Peace, people.