Tag: Studly Doright

A Real Prince of a Guy

When I was a little girl

Many years ago

I dreamed of finding

A handsome prince 

And making him my beau.

But I grew into a plain lass

Tall with gangly limbs

And no prince deigned to

Take my hand and

Realize my whims.

So I nurtured imagination

Focused on my brain

Some considered 

Me odd as I grew,

Ever against the grain.

Then Studly came

Into my life and 

Took on the role of prince

And even through our

Ups and downs

I’ve been so happy since. 

 

I’m already missing my Studly who’s holding Doright Manor together in my absence.

Calculating

I began adding

Numbers.

Seven hundred

Forty-nine plus

Sixty seven.

Eight sixteen said

Studly.

He’s always been 

Good with

Numbers.

Love-less Poem

April is National Poetry Writing Month, and today’s task called for me to write a love poem without using the word “love” or employing any of the phrases associated with love poems. 

His butt looks kind of perfect

Wrapped in that turquoise 

 Towel.

I mean it’s not a work of

Art or anything, but it’s the

Part of him I watch when

He leaves our bed to

Shower.

His eyes could be a deeper

Shade of green, 

I suppose,

Though I doubt they could

Twinkle any more than they

Already do.

He never brings me

Breakfast in bed, and

Seldom sends me

Flowers.

I should probably

Divorce him over those

Lapses, but he cries at

Sappy movies, and

Would probably 

Cry if I left.

I know I would if the

Situation were

Reversed. 

 

Tijuana Flats

Studly Doright finally had the opportunity to eat at Tijuana Flats, hands down the best fast food Mexican place in Tallahassee. 

I’ve been after him for months to try them out. Of course he loved it and asked innocently, “Why haven’t we eaten here before?” Slap!

 

 Peace (and hot sauce) People!  

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

When our first son was very young, perhaps not yet two, he and I were snuggled under the covers on a cold, snowy morning. Studly Doright had left for work, so little Doright and I were catching a few precious zzzz’s.

As we basked in that delicious laziness that comes with sleeping in, little Doright asked sleepily, “Mommy, who is that man?”

I said, “What man, sweetie?”

“That one, Mommy, in the curtains.”

I saw nothing, but my heartbeat sped up just the same. Who knows who or what little Doright saw.

On another occasion I awakened from a nightmare in which Studly was chasing little Doright and me with a knife. I’d just finished reading Stephen King’s The Shining, so that dream was something of a logical consequence. However, from his crib in the room next to ours I heard little Doright crying, “Daddy, don’t hurt us! Daddy stop!”

Whoa! That was a surreal moment! Written in response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt.

Studly, the Poet

Studly and I are watching Pawn Stars. In this episode a buxom young woman takes a vintage video game into the store to sell to the guys. Studly thinks the young woman is a “real cutie.” 

I respond, “She’s not that hot. She just has big boobs” 

Then Studly says,

“That’s a great first step

In the right direction

To give a guy

A huge erection.”

He followed this statement with, “see, you’re not the only poet in the family.”

Just shoot me, okay?

It’s Only a Movie

When Studly is out of town I spend my time going to movies. So far I’ve seen “The Imitation Game” and “Chappie.” Tomorrow I plan to see “Cinderella.”

I couldn’t be a movie critic. For me movies are either great or awful, and often I can’t explain why I view them either way. Both “The Imitation Game” and “Chappie” fall into the great category.  I’d see them again. 





Benedict Cumberbatch is amazing as Alan Turing. If the film doesn’t make you angry at man’s injustices to man then there is something seriously wrong with you. Oddly enough, “Chappie” had the same message–that people can be incredibly cruel. That humans fear what they do not understand, and what they fear, they seek to destroy.

But both films had an uplifting feel, that if we can possibly learn from our mistakes, if we can learn the hard lessons, that humanity is worth saving.

Now who knows what I’ll take away from Cinderella, but if it’s anything like the book, it should be a winner.



Peace, People!

When Studly is Sick

much has been written

’bout men being sick:

they’re wimpy and snively

and not worth a lick.

and then there is Studly



that man among men

stronger by far than 

one even might ken. 

when Studly is sick,

though, all bets are off

his sneezes are epic

and, oh my, his cough!

he won’t take my help,

but, boy, does he need me

and heaven help us both

if I’m not there when I should be.

of course I’m aware it’s 

my cold he’s caught,

still I’m an an angel when ill

and he’s certainly not.

Poor Studly!

Lesson Learned

Note to self: Never hit Panama City Beach during March! 

I’m picking Studly up at the Panama City airport in a couple of hours, and thought I’d come on over a little early and eat dinner at the beach before his plane lands. 

It is a zooooo!!! People who have no business on motorcycles are riding scooters and splitting lanes. Families in these funky little street buggies–colorful little golf carts, really, are pulling in front of lane splitting scooter riders. College kids are everywhere. Of course at my age they all look like preschoolers. 

On the plus side, and it is a BIG plus, I can see the beach from my table, and I’m having fresh mahi mahi. And, Studly will be home soon!



Peace, people!

Effexor and Me: Not Qute a Love Story

A few days ago I shared a post called “Paranoia” about my crazy night of attempting  to ambush an imaginary intruder due to a temporary imbalance in my chemical makeup.

This imbalance, caused by an unintentional withdrawal from the antidepressant Effexor, led me to act in an erratic manner and resulted in a sleepless night. Once I had the drug back in my system all was right with the world. No harm, no foul.

Except that it’s not all right. This wasn’t my first experience with Effexor withdrawal. Several years ago I suffered a similar reaction after a bout with the stomach flu. For three days I kept throwing up my meds along with everything else in my system. 

The withdrawal was a terrifying experience. I had violent night terrors involving vivid decapitations and stabbings. In one savage dream I watched as Charlie Sheen had a leg brutally removed with a chain saw. Reality and imagination merged in my brain until I couldn’t discern one from the other. When I was awake, I experienced brain shivers, a sensation that’s difficult to describe but is vaguely similar to the feeling one gets when one has an inner ear infection. And the paranoia was off the charts. 

Studly was out of town on business, and had no idea how sick I was. I called him frantically insisting that I was near death. He cut his meetings short and rushed home to find me a mess. I had a migraine that had me cowering in our darkened closet and I was certain a tornado was imminent.

He rushed me to convenient care where I was fortunate to be able to see my former general practitioner. Thank goodness he was familiar with my medical history. He immediately asked how long it had been since I’d taken Effexor and got me started on an I.V. Within an hour I was back to being me.

The ironic part of this whole thing is that I don’t take Effexor for depression. My oncologist prescribed it to help ameliorate the symptoms of menopause, such as hot flashes and night sweats. Since I cannot take a hormone replacement, she believed Effexor would provide some relief. And it does.

But I worry about the future. What happens when I’m an elderly woman and cannot control my own medical care? What happens if at some time I do not have access to the drug and go bonkers? 

Recently I read a novel with a post-apocalyptic theme. Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel. In the novel a virulent flu has decimated the world’s population, and a group of survivors has sought refuge in an airline terminal. The group has enough food and other provisions, but one character who takes Effexor, soon runs out of her prescription and the group is unable to secure more. That character does not do well and ends up wandering off into the unknown. I think about her often.

Well, this was a cheery post. I highly recommend the book.

Peace, People.

Edit

The kitty is too cute to be a symbol of Effexor withdrawal.