Author: iheartsw1999

I only know how to tell you about me by telling you the things that I love, enjoy and can't seem to get enough of. I love worshiping Jesus through music. My mama taught me the love of music and I intend to carry out that life until God says that's enough. My next love is my family; nothing better than time spent with the folks I call mine. My favorite place on this earth and where I can hear "me" best is a good ol', white sanded beach where the waves crash out every distraction; leaving only thoughts that are my own. I have other loves, but these are a great beginning. Maybe you'll learn more while you share a cup of Coffee with Paula. (See what I did there? Ha!)

Rainy Days…

Rainy days are made for writing and lounging on the couch with some coffee, a blanket and Barney, the family wiener dog. (He’s not supposed to be on the couch…but sometimes things happen, right?) The baby boy had just headed back to Florida, the baby girl was napping, hubby was outside in his man cave. Me, alone in the quiet, sipping coffee and thinking. What to do? Blog, of course.

As always before writing, I sat there and let my mind clear. I asked myself what was heavy on my mind today. Missing mom? Half an empty nest? Social Work dilemmas? Those topics didn’t seem to inspire any deep thoughts worth capturing. Food? Travel? Parenting? Still nothing. Marriage? Certainly not. (Some things are best left alone on certain days. Ha!!!)

When nothing sparked an interest, what was a writer to do? How could I call myself a writer if I had nothing to write about? Am I a writer only when ideas flow freely or am I always a writer just with the occasional mental block? Yes. I decided that I am always a writer…just with the occasional mental block.

Think Paula, think. What should today’s topic be? It was the perfect weather for writing…the perfect set up for writing. Just absolutely nothing on the brain worth typing.

Lost in my reverie, I glanced up at the front door as a fairly large, disheveled man jerked back and quickly fled down the front steps. My heart thudded in my chest as I quickly chided myself for not locking the front door but my mind also flooded with thought for the approximate nanosecond long debate, fight or flight? Dad didn’t raise a pansy so fight it was.

Thoughts continued to flood my mind as I jumped up and raced for the door. Had he been watching me? How long had he been watching me? Certainly he had been there for at least a second or two. Muttering numerous cuss words under my breath because of the frustrating scramble between keeping coffee cup upright, the blanket from wrapping around my ankles and Barney from hitting the floor, I finally made it to the door and grabbed the pistol.

My mind raced with fear as I knew my husband was in the man cave. I dashed for the cell phone to give heads up of the man in the yard. No answer of course. I knew what must be done.

I locked down the house, woke the baby girl, provided brief instructions to not open her door until I told her it was okay, set the house alarm and headed quietly out the back door, pistol in hand, ready for whatever was necessary.

Rolling my feet in stealth mode for the descent down the back steps, my eyes scanned for any movement, finger on the trigger, ready. If I hadn’t been so aloof and on edge, I would’ve probably been thinking “Dad would certainly be proud of the awesome skills he had taught me through the years of how to be a bad ass, not to take any shit and to protect you and yours at all cost”.

My back to the house, now on the ground at the bottom of the steps, I squatted down to scan the area, making myself as small as possible to watch the man cave for movement. Keeping my eyes open in constant surveillance, I grabbed my cell phone, flipped it to silent and thought to myself “you should’ve done that before you went outside, goofball”. (Dad would probably deduct some cool points because of that but at least I did it.) I also debated as to whether to send a quick text to the hubby to give heads up…I didn’t want to let Mr. Stranger Danger know someone was out in the man cave from hubby’s ringtone if he didn’t already know. My heart could have almost passed for a double bass pedal as I quickly decided…no text to hubby. Too risky.

Where had Mr. Stranger Danger gone? Did he leave the yard? I never heard a vehicle crank but I hadn’t heard one arrive either. Had he walked up? Had he broken down? If he had no ill intentions, why would he run when I saw him at the door? Still no movement from the man cave. I was frozen in fear. What to do next? Call out to Dan? Just walk over? There was no cover between the house and the man cave. Dad would not be proud if I had been that stealthy and bad ass up to that point, then got abducted, robbed or shot from being stupid right at the last minute. Think Paula, think. Why did I have to keep saying that to myself today?!

As I squatted at the foot of the steps in deep thought, still aloof, scanning the area and making decisions, I heard laughter erupt. Was it coming from the man cave? It seemed to be. If that was someone the hubby had been expecting and they were out there laughing about him freaking me out, I would give them both a piece of my mind…a tongue lashing like none before.

More laughter. I stood up with knees who were angry and frustrated with the length of squat time. Laughter increased in the distance. Putting the safety back on, I bound over to that man cave door and peered in as I heard “mom, wake up, you’re snoring”. The baby girl and hubby stood by the couch in laughter. Nice.

Apparently, I was thinking so hard about what to blog, I dozed off for a nap. Maybe rainy days are also for napping? But as you sip your coffee, just know that I heart writing fiction…and that Dad would most certainly have never condoned me walking out of that house…til the next pot is ready. ~paula

Shut the “bleep” up and Reroute Already!

Has google maps ever sent you on the quickest route? But that “quicker route” required you to do 6 u-ey’s and 3 loop-de-loops into approximately 42 lanes of oncoming traffic? As in, it’s definitely going to get you there quicker…assuming you’re not killed in the process…but it may not be the simplest, least stressful route.

Often in my workday (Social Work) I find myself driving to crazy locations and needing some navigational assistance to get there. I don’t always want to follow the specific route google plans, so I may take a side street over to another side street to get back onto the specific path google has laid out. During that time, my google lady is repeatedly saying “make a u-turn”…”make a u-turn”…”make a u-turn”. I find myself saying so often during the work day, “Would you just shut the hell up and reroute already?!” (I say other things in traffic as well, but I’ll leave it at that for now as all of my other “traffic related” sayings are for another entry…another day…another more adult rating. Ha!)

But why is it necessary for us to always follow the directions to a T? Aren’t there always a few different ways to arrive at a specific destination? Some routes are more simple, more direct, more carefree, while others are more stressful, more lengthy, more difficult. You still arrive at the same destination. Right?

I must admit though that different days call for different paths. For instance, if I have only 3 patients for the day, I want to take the path of least resistance, the path that takes me down two lane roads where I can enjoy the scenery through open windows, radio blasting and hair whipping. (And quite possibly the occasional cigarette if the mood strikes, but I swear to God if you tell anyone I’ll deny it. Ha!) But for a day when I really need to see 62 patients, I want the interstate, 26.7 u-ey’s and a couple loop-de-loops to get to each patient in a super quick manner.

But as I ponder trips, routes and destinations, I can’t help but think of the many road trips I’ve taken since I was a child. Some with parents and grandparents, some with my parents and baby brother. As I got older, some with friends, some with the hubby and some with my hubby and kids. (I have a lot of trips under my belt folks because I quite literally always sit on ready.)

But what was most important about all of those trips…the destination or the journey? Some, like my husband, might assume the destination is the highlight. He can literally only see two things on a road trip: point A and point B. Nothing, I repeat, nothing in between those points are important to him…so unimportant that I suspect he would be quick to debate their actual existence. He tends to be a stickler for departure times, arrival times and sticking to the discussed and pre-approved itinerary. Now don’t get me wrong, Disney World is phenomenal, the beach is divine, the mountains so majestic. But the most cherished part to me is the journey itself.

Intentionally driving through small towns off the beaten path just to try a quaint little locally owned restaurant with savory dishes that have never before graced your taste buds. Spending an afternoon walking the streets of a huge city you’re passing through to experience sub-cultures not your own that open your mind to thinking outside your comfortable little box. Gazing through car windows at scenery you’ve seen only in print. Laughing at jokes told by friends to pass the time until the next stop. Ragging whoever missed that last turn while determining whose fault…the navigator or the driver. Singing to the top of your lungs while an old favorite plays on the radio, taking you back in time to some other road trip…another set of shenanigans. And last but not least, the perfection of bladders syncing and all who are along for the ride needing to stop at the same time…the journey.

Make time to intentionally enjoy the moments given; force google maps to chill out and redirect already…it’s simply a must. We are each given one life on this earth. I choose to use each moment to savor the goodness…especially sips of this steaming nighttime cup…or am I cheating and drinking ice cold sweet tea? I’ll let you decide.

Til the next pot…or pitcher. ~paula

There was this Kid

There was this kid who grew into a man…

This kid would drive a person insane by tattling on you for smooching with your boyfriend. This kid would try to get into your Barbie’s and rearrange legs, arms and heads. This kid would always want to go with you when you just wanted to be with your friends. This kid got approximately 27.8 cars during his high school years when you had only one. (That’s a serious exaggeration, but I’m doing the writing and exaggeration is how I roll. Ha!) This kid would “burn bugs” and our precious but slightly naive mama let it go as truth. (Calm down all you bug enthusiasts, he wouldn’t literally burn bugs, it’s an inside joke, just not my story to share. Ha!) This kid would play his heart out underneath the Friday Night Lights; but then work til exhaustion for a dear elderly family member on Saturdays, bright and early the very next morning.

Baby brother, I’ve watched you turn from a kid to a man.

I’ve watched you fall in love, fall out of love. I’ve watched you make good choices, bad choices. I’ve watched you carry yourself with dignity and self-respect; demonstrating integrity while my former friend and sister-in-law was oblivious that the words even existed. I’ve seen you give love another try and go on to marry the love of your life. I’ve seen you in despair, heartbreak and anguish in heated custody battles; but also saw you filled to overflowing with joy when a daughter finally made it home to you. I’ve watched you pour your heart into things that never came to be; I’ve also watched you succeed abundantly.

I’ve seen so many things baby brother, but what I will never forget, never stop thinking about, never stop adoring about you is the way you loved our precious mama.

For a solid year, you packed up your family and headed home for weekends. You cooked an insane quantity of the most delicious food to feed the multitudes. You spent time with our Dad. You spent time with our Mama. We cried together. We hugged often. We shared. We dealt. We coped. We laughed. We did what was important; spent precious time. You made a point to be at countless doctor appointments; always keeping the mood light with your craziness. And after a long battle fought, you held our mama’s hand while she neared the end. You held me afterwards.

You taught your kids important life lessons during this past year; taught them the importance of family and what it means to truly step up to the plate as a man. You were an example to your sons of what is expected of them as men; you were an example to your daughter of what she should require in a husband.

What more could I ever ask for in a Brother…other than for you to finally admit I’m the favorite? Ha!

Nothing brother…nothing.

I see your hurt and I see your grief over the loss of our precious mama. I see you trying to be strong when you’d rather just give up. I see your pain…it resembles my own. Be strong when you can; let go when you can’t. Talk about her. Write about her. Think about her. But above all else, keep on loving her. She’s still right here with us.

She’s still right here with us…in our thoughts, in our hearts, in our mannerisms, in our facial expressions, in our personalities, in our children.

Thinking of a sweet…but of course MACHO…baby brother tonight as I sip coffee. Praying he knows God has not taken His loving arms from around him this whole time, nor will He ever. ~paula

Siblings by chance; friends by choice. – Author Unknown

The Lasts

The last time I felt the ocean breeze with you while the morning sun warmed our face; a coffee cup for each…Schlabor Day~2017.

The last Thanksgiving day with you; I was teary-eyed off and on all day, knowing it would be your last.

The last time I watched your face as you listened to your precious grands read the Christmas story from Luke.

The last time I watched your smile as we sang happy birthday to you.

The last time I heard you say ‘Paula Ree’.

The last time “Mom🎹🎶💅🏽” popped up on my phone.

The last time I helped you into a softball game.

The last time I walked slowly with you.

The last time I saw you eat and actually enjoy your meal…Meatloaf, English Peas, Mashed Potatoes, Banana Pudding, Coconut Creme Pie and Ms. Sheila’s Homemade Banana Nut Bread…only bites of each, but utter enjoyment.

The last time the long beautiful acrylic nails created by your “Tina Girl” clicked their way across the ivories.

The last time I watched you throw your head back and truly laugh…Christmas night…something Chris said…captured.

The last time your handwriting was on my Mother’s Day card (2017)…I knew it would be your last.

The last New Year’s Eve kiss.

The last time old friends, aka the “softball grannies” met up while watching their grands run, hit and defend with as much gusto as they did just 40 years prior.

The last Schlabor Day…with you.

The last Mensch ärgere Dich nicht game with the grands…always yellow.

Tears as I sip coffee tonight, missing the moments…missing you. ~paula

☕️☕️☕️☕️☕️☕️☕️☕️☕️☕️☕️☕️☕️☕️☕️

He said ‘Our Girl’

As I intently stared at the dusty diamond covered with sweaty, fatigued warriors, while my flattened, aching behind shifted from side to side on cold metal bleachers; my husband of 25 years (26 when June arrives) texted my phone and asked the question “has our girl played”? This happens to be baby girl’s first Varsity season and she has had her share of paying bench dues this season. She had actually played some tonight but I couldn’t text back right away. I was stuck in time sitting there as I tried to get my heart to calm to a slower beat. He said our girl.

I finally answered his question and shared of her getting hit by the ball and taking a base, but I was quick to also tell him I liked how he said our girl. He was of course baffled at what I meant because men can sometimes be oblivious to things of the heart. (No offense guys, you just aren’t as mushy as us ladies and we’re okay with that, trust me!)

But it took me only one quarter of a second to formulate my answer. “It’s endearing toward me and toward her and it made me smile”.

Why did my mushy female heart see that as endearing? Well, the phrase our girl was indicative of a relationship that was loving enough to share babies but also indicative of the deep love between a daddy and his girl. He acknowledged all of that in its entirety with that one simple text.

Marriages that have held firm for 25 years, (or 2 for that matter) are guaranteed to have rocky patches, moments when feelings are no longer mushy or exciting and it becomes imperative that the focus be centered on making the choice to love rather than to rely on “feelings of love” that are untrustworthy and flighty.

There is often confusion over love being a noun or love being an action. If you consider love a noun, what does that make love? It makes love the warm fuzzies of a first kiss, butterflies when you remember a shared and heated embrace, the increased patter of your heart when you see your love walk in the room. How long can all of that possibly last? This person you’ve vowed to love, burps and farts…sometimes at the same time; has morning breath; eats garlic bread; pisses you off; let’s you down; gets toothpaste all over the sink; forgets to start the dishwasher; doesn’t notice your new hair cut and accidentally on purpose forgets that you really wanted to see that new movie at the theatre. How can the warm fuzzies continue after all that?

It’s simple. They can’t; they won’t and you newly weds and young adults who are about to enter into wedded bliss, don’t need to think they will.

But when you view love as a choice, the possibility of this thing called marriage making it for the long haul, increases tremendously. Choosing to love this person that you vowed to love is the bare minimum of what is required. Choosing to keep on keeping on; even when things are less than stellar, don’t smell as sweet as you remember and emotions trick you into believing what isn’t real. Keep on keeping on.

The warm fuzzies aren’t gone for ever. They simply come and go for seasons. I certainly wasn’t looking for warm fuzzies tonight after 25 years of marriage, the last 3 of those filled with enormous struggles; but I received one. My husband; who can be into his own world, his own things, his own to-do list, his own struggles; had a moment when he thought of me as his and wanted to know everything was right with our girl.

Smiling as I plan to partake from a fresh pot of coffee after these beautiful warriors are done defending their diamond; choosing to wait for the next warm fuzzy; ain’t giving up. ~paula

The Good Stuff

As I type this sentence, I’m sitting in the car while my 23 yo baby boy drives us to the little town where he plans to relocate due to a new job that begins in two weeks. Scouting out apartments, local eateries, where the beaches are (my own personal need), banks and all the other little necessities to get the baby boy set. I should probably add that I’ll continue to call him my baby boy until I’m 92 and in the nursing home on the dementia wing. Ha!!!

It was announced during church today that the baby boy is moving and will have his last Sunday on percussion next weekend. As I squeezed the mic tight, hoping for strength, I kept looking over at him during worship, trying to soak it in. I knew that my baby boy would only play in that role for one more day of worship. One more Sunday to prepare for worship with my son as a member of the worship team. One more time to feel my heart swell when someone tells him after church how he rocked those drums…and honestly, only one more Sunday to feel that old familiar mama-bear defensiveness creep in if someone sneers about how loud the drums were that day. (Super annoying, but whatever. Ha!) But the good stuff is what I will miss terribly in the months to come. The good stuff.

The good stuff includes moments in time spent with those that you love; folks you consider “your people”. Smiles given, smiles received, eye contact shared, acknowledgment made of a job well done or making certain others know, hey, you’re worth it, I love you and you play an important role in this crazy little circle of ours. Don’t forget the laughter which is one of my most favorite ‘good stuffs’ for the crazy situations we find ourselves in at times. (Man, I love to laugh.)

Often we go through life, weekend to weekend, month to month, year to year and never soak in those moments; those good times that we rarely notice until they are no longer. Those little moments that make the memories; the memories worth hanging onto.

I will always cherish the years of his booming foundation in our worship services; always wish for just a few more sundays; always wish it could have lasted a little longer; always wish that I had been a little more intentional with “soaking it in”.

But here we are. Getting him settled into his new life. Will I miss my baby boy? Heck yes. Will I learn the new normal of having an adult son living his own life? Eventually. Will new moms learn from my writings to savor the years so tightly? Probably not. But do I feel better having expressed all of this broken hearted but proud mama’s heart? Yes!

Praying for future visits with my baby boy, in his adult life, sipping coffee together made by him in his very own coffee pot. ~paula

They will Never Forget

Branch Ed, short for Branch Education, is provided monthly at my place of employment. We sit through anywhere from one to two hours of necessary information that must be conveyed for us to continue doing what we do. (Effective and efficient is the name of the healthcare game.) A portion of this education can involve being given audit scores so that we have an idea where we rank against our previous scores as well as against other home health and hospice agencies; super important in the health care world. But for one specific meeting, my former Branch Director began stating that we have the best Social Worker in the entire company and we don’t know what we would do without her, her documentation is relevant and she always strives to do the best for our patients. Now, understand, I’m the only social worker in the building and I’m still sitting there wondering who she’s talking about. She can’t be talking about me, I was currently like fifteen charts behind on documentation (not really) but struggling to maintain my head above water. Once I realized that it was for certain me that she was talking about, the room erupted into applause as my cheeks warmed to a rosy blush and tears formed in my eyes. That room was giving me support and love and applause. And honestly, I would do anything for them as do I for our patients. But in that specific moment in time, all I could think was that I want to do my best for these people, my work family, my friends, my partners in crime. All I could think about was “what areas could I improve so that I will never let these people down”? Funny. I actually wanted to seek out my own flaws and fix them!

This made me start thinking. Let’s scroll back a few years to a previous employer. I never heard from my supervisor unless something was a mess. Never a word of thanks on a job well done, never a kind word when days were tough, never a feeling of “belonging” or of being valued as a team member. Let one audit score be slightly lower than a previous month and a meeting with the supervisor and their supervisor was conducted wanting to know what was the plan put in place as to improving said score. No discussion of the previous day staying with a family for four hours while they coped with the pending loss of their mom, teaching them how to comfort and show support to a mama that had loved and care for them their whole life, teaching them to say goodbye in an appropriate manner. No discussion of the hard work put into a recent abuse and neglect case where DHR was involved; where myself and the DHR case worker were in court by that afternoon due to some fancy footwork to insure our patient was removed and placed into a safe environment. Nothing but grief over the lowered audit scores. After leaving that employer for greener pastures I did some soul searching. What made me leave? The exhausting business of constant self validation. I constantly had to defend my actions, my documentation, my skills. I was constantly on the defensive defending my every move. Never once did I say to myself what are my flaws and how can I make them better? I never actually wanted to do better for them. I was too busy being on the defensive about what I thought was right.

What is the difference in these two scenarios? I’m human, so in both situations, there were certainly things that needed fixing on my end. But the difference was how I viewed myself in either situation. I was made to want to do better by a Branch Director who knew to provide encouragement.

While researching this particular topic, I came upon an article by Vicki Hoefle, The Difference Between Praise and Encouragement. Vicki Hoefle is a parent educator, author, speaker and coach and when I read her article…on went the light bulb! Such wonderful information and so spot on. She explains that “praise focuses on perfection rather than progress and improvement; a right or wrong outcome rather than a meaningful experience; good or bad decisions rather than the decision-making process; pride or disappointment rather than acceptance and support.” Man, did I say this was spot on?

How does this relate to us in our everyday life? Well, relationships in parenting and coaching and supervising and spouses and friends and the guy at the “parts house” (as my husband calls it)…should I go on? How we talk to and approach every single person in this life matters. It brings to mind the phrase “fair weather friend”. As long as things are going well, those fair weather friends or parents or coaches or spouses or supervisors are, as my sweet Mom would have said, “hunky dory”; but, when things are more difficult, when there’s not a word of praise that can be uttered because there is no perfection to be found…then what? Then what.

“They may not remember what you said – but they will never forget how you made them feel. ~ Carl W. Buehner

Man, that was a refreshing cup today! ~paula

I also believe…

If I’ve ever published an entry and immediately knew I had more to say, it was this time! Feel free to comment. I LOVE a good debate! If you agree or disagree, I would love to hear!

I also believe…

…there’s nothing more cleansing than an ugly, snot bubble cry or a fat roll jiggling, belly laugh with tears included.

…grief has it’s own timeline that you don’t get to dictate.

…the happiest sad moment of your life is when your baby is grown, lands their first “real” job and you realize they really are moving out.

…it’s okay to walk away from your cell phone on your personal time for as long as you want; they are not mandatory.

…you can say “no” without guilt when your sanity is in question.

…visiting with an elderly person is the most fulfilling history lesson you will ever receive.

…the low carb and Keto diets are my only ways to eat AND stick with a diet. Yum!

…that as you sing in the choir, your face should not look pained.

…that if you’re a Social Worker, you are destined to have some crude, rude, tasteless humor floating around in your brain. Know your audience before sharing!

…not everyone uses the talent they were given.

…a hot fudge Sunday can be supper every now and then.

…just because you’re attracted to someone doesn’t mean they’re your soulmate, it might just mean you’re attracted to them.

…if you can tell your social worker what the programs are, you can apply for them yourself. I’m here to empower, not give handouts.

…if you’ve never had a full body massage, goodness, get one scheduled!

…if you’ve never sent your spouse a risqué text you might be boring.

…you should mix mayonnaise and ketchup together for a splendid dipping sauce for your French Fries.

…if you don’t have sauce all over your mouth and fingers, your wings aren’t as good as mine.

…you need to have that one thing you do every week with your spouse, of which you allow nothing to get in the way.

…you have to have a sense of humor in this life or you’re gonna go crazy!

There may be more later, but for now I think we’re out of coffee. Thank you so very much for joining me around the coffee pot. ~paula

I believe…

I have some things that just need to be said out loud for all to hear. No one on this planet has asked my opinion on any of this, but I have taken the liberty to share it because Paula ALWAYS has an opinion; and opinions are for sharing. I think a little outside the box occasionally and that’s okay. If you’re offended, that’s okay as well. If you smile a little while you read, then maybe we think a little bit alike. If you’re snarling by the end, maybe we’re a little different, but that doesn’t mean we can’t still get along and live peacefully on the same planet. Opinions are like butt holes……so the saying goes.

I BELIEVE…

…that most people are good…and so does Luke Bryan.

…judgments rendered by others on who YOU choose to love are irrelevant.

…if someone is using the entrance ramp, you need to get the *bleep* over and be a courteous driver.

…you need to make eye contact and smile at everyone you meet.

…you need to smile at choir members while they sing, even if you don’t like what you’re hearing.

…that if you’re riding in the left lane and not actively passing someone, someone is, or is about to start, cussing at you.

…that babies are always super cute, but are much cuter when they’re quiet and sleeping.

…you should know what relaxes you and that you should do that often.

…family is more important than anything and you should love on them as often and as much as possible because one day you or they won’t be here.

…that every now and then you should just eat a King Size Kit Kat while chugging an ice cold Mountain Dew.

…it’s okay to drink a beer sometimes.

…it’s okay to have a tattoo or twelve.

…a hug can right a lot of things.

…more can be said by sitting quietly with someone while sharing a pot of coffee than a hundred red roses sent with no time shared.

…every person has a talent.

…if you’re too good to fill the toilet paper holder at work, you’ve gotten too big for your britches.

…there was a day when I thought the first drag off of a Marlboro Light was the best.

…the sound of the ocean can drowned out all of the unnecessary clutter in your brain.

…every girl should have a pair of jeans that make her butt look amazing.

…every girl should know what it feels like to have someone tell her her butt looks amazing. If you’re currently acting appalled, you’re lying to yourself.

…every girl should know their perfect shade of red lipstick.

…every person should know what it feels like to have butterflies while remembering a romantic night that went the perfect distance.

…everybody has, at one time or another, had that one person they couldn’t keep off their mind.

…music has the ability to take you anywhere you want to go, back to feelings and moments you thought were lost with time.

…parents need to focus more on their marriage than on their children; when you don’t, it does your children a great disservice.

…kids need to hear the word “no” sometimes; as well as to know what the sting of a good pop on the bottom feels like.

…that when you are married, if one partner wants sexual intimacy, it’s time for sexual intimacy.

…that when both spouses work outside the home, all chores are halfed; there’s two adults living there and both should be pulling equal weight.

…compliments should be given freely.

…compliments should be met with a simple “thank you”; not excuses of what should have been better; compliments given take courage and energy that are expensive enough to not be shortchanged by your struggling self image.

…that if someone wants to spend time with you, they will.

…if you want to spend time with someone, you will.

…handwritten cards are a thousand times better than store bought cards.

…I don’t need flowers from anyone to feel loved; their time means so much more.

…you need to kiss with your eyes open at least once.

…New Year’s Eve is made for kissing.

…some of the best moments in my life involved mud from head to toe, 4-wheelers, ice cold beer and Marlboro Lights.

…concretely that you should treat others the way you want to be treated; unless they are consistently being the south end of a northbound donkey; then they deserve whatever Karma presents. But remember, Karma isn’t from you.

…depression and anxiety, at times, can steal the joys of life from both partners in a relationship, even if only one experiences the two.

…any time you get the opportunity to do something new, you should.

…trips to new places are the best.

…true confidence doesn’t come until your mid to late thirties.

…trying new restaurants has to be one of my top ten favorite things to do with friends.

…you are probably getting tired of reading about what I believe. LOL!!!!

That’s probably enough coffee for tonight. Thank you so much for your time! ~paula

Green Beans on the Interstate

Yes, I meant to say “green beans on the interstate”.

I was minding my own business, zooming in and out of traffic, of course singing to the top of my lungs, as countless others minded their own business and zoomed all around me. As any good and faithful, upstanding, skilled people watcher would, I found myself glancing over at fellow zoomers. Some held phones to their ears, half watching traffic while they wholly socialized with a longtime friend. Some even text. (Shame on you!) Some touch up their lipstick or straighten their hair. Some use two hands to light up and take the first drag off their Marlboro Light, driving momentarily with their knee. Some drop hamburger condiments onto their business suits after the first juicy bite; then scurry to find the napkins that may or may not be in that Wendy’s bag. And some eat their green beans…cue vinyl record needle scratch. Yes, I looked over and one lady was straight eating green beans…with a fork…driving on the interstate. Needless to say, she got two glances, as opposed to the typical one glance courtesy most fellow zoomers get.

I immediately stopped the top-of-my-lungs duet with the radio and began to ponder what the bloody hell would make her be in such a big hurry to not just take an extra ten minutes before she left home and sit, while not zooming, to eat her green beans. Is she that important that she would halt the earth’s perfect rotation if she didn’t leave at that exact moment in time? Were those green beans the only nutritional source capable of sustaining her body? Was there nothing more simple, less messy to eat while zooming? I mean, what? What made her choose green beans? Say she actually did just order those through a drive-thru window in order to make a more healthy food choice than the typical yummy, divine, manna-from-the-gods French Fry; what made her think this was going to end well? Green beans certainly have juice that HAD to have dripped on her during all the zooming. Green beans are notorious for falling off a fork, at which time said bean would land on her clothing creating continued problems with the previously mentioned juice.

Thank goodness my girlfriend, who-doesn’t-know-I-exist-in-the-world, Ashley McBryde, came on the radio and her soulful, moving musical tones interrupted my reverie on that fellow zoomer’s food choice for the day. The top-of-my-lungs duet with my girl was back on again, just as if no one had ever dared to eat a green bean while zooming up the interstate.

The only thing I learned from this lady is that I want to learn to stop and smell the roses…or should I say…stop and not zoom while I eat green beans. Slowing down some in this crazy life is okay folks. =)

Chuckling as I sip coffee and think about green beans. ~paula