"Stuck"

Let me just start by saying that I realize that I write quite a bit about my husband but please understand that with the material he provides I am honestly unable to help myself.

That being said I have another story to tell involving him. One afternoon, as I pulled into the driveway from work, I was thinking the usual things, how tired I was, what to do for dinner, and how glad I was to be home. Well let me just say that on this particular afternoon those thoughts were short lived.

I say this because as I was coming to the top of the driveway I could hear yelling coming from inside the garage. I had no idea what was going on, only that it was my husbands voice. As I began to exit the car I could see that he was on his cell phone.

When I got closer to where my husband was standing I could hear what he was shouting. He said, and I quote, "Ma'am, I AM AN ADULT!!"

After I was finally able to wrap my mind around the fact that this was actually happening, I just looked at him and said "Give me the phone." He looked at me and mouthed "I've got this, while simultaneously pointing to his free hand and attempting to show me something about his fingers".

I replied, "Evidently you do not have this. Hand me the phone." He reluctantly placed the phone in my hand.

After saying hello, and engaging in a brief conversation with the woman on the other end of the line, I was able to ascertain three things.

1. My husband had evidently super glued his fingers together, and was in the process of trying to secure some help for himself.

2. He had done so by contacting poison control.

3. He was in such a state of panic about the glue on his hands, that the woman he was talking to assumed that he was a young boy, and so she had asked him if there was an adult in the home that she could speak with.

You might wonder if I explained to the woman that she was dealing with a 40 something year old man. The answer to that is, no I did not.

I assured her that an adult had arrived, and that things were under control. I then thanked her for her help, and hung up the phone.

I then asked my husband, in my mother voice, if he had completely lost his mind. He mumbled something about not knowing what to do, and I said follow me.

He followed me into the house, where I retrieved a cotton ball and some nail polish remover from my vanity, and began to clean his fingers with it. I followed that up with some warm soapy water, and like magic, he was again a candidate for gloves.

After forming a rescue for him I sat him down and we had a talk, wherein I explained that in the future, should he find himself in a non life threatening situation, it would be perfectly acceptable for a man his age to try and problem solve on his own without contacting any outside resources.

I gave him an example of why he should try to save himself in the future. I told him that a baby could have ingested poison at the same time he glued his fingers together, in which case the mother would have needed immediate help.

I further explained that she might not have been able to get that help, if he had the phone line to poison control tied up over a little super glue.

He admitted that he may have over reacted, and said that he was just glad that it was over. Lord, I'm glad he got that behind him too. My relief is almost tangible.

I do find myself wondering, at times, as I back out of our driveway without him, if it's a good idea to leave him unattended. The thing that helps me with that concern, however, is just recalling the memory of that day and hearing him shouting at the lady from poison control.. "Ma'am, I am an adult!"

I mean adults can be left alone...right???

Running Is For The Chosen...Myself? I Wasn't Chosen

When I was in high school, I had a coach that was relentless about my running during the fifty minutes each day that I was forced to spend with him. We would all dress out in those wonderful gym shorts and t-shirts and hit the track.

I admit I abhorred it, but being the good student that I was, I made an effort to run when I was told. Okay, it may have been a slow trot, but there was effort.

After all, there was the preservation of my cosmetics to be considered. I mean good Lord.. What girl wants to go to her next class with mascara running down her overheated red face, hair gone wild, and smelling like the great outdoors?

Was that ever good enough for this man? Nooo it was not. He would run behind me and yell wonderful things like "Arlene/Darlene! Pick up those knees!!"

You see, I have a twin sister. The coach had her in his class during another period of the day, and I'm not sure if it was that it was more convenient for him, or if it would have put him on academic overload to get to know us and address us as individuals, but either way, He chose instead to just combine our names. Nice.

This torture went on until one day when I was with my counselor and we were choosing my classes for the next year and she asked me the most wonderful question I had ever heard.."P.E. or Music?" I was so thrilled, I was stunned into a momentary silence.

When I found my voice, I said "Do you mean that I have a choice next year?" She said "Yes, that's right." Lord have mercy I think I heard the angels singing in that moment it was so glorious.

Well I just about yelled out the word music at the poor woman. She then asked "Band or Chorus?". I had a fleeting thought about band, but there were a few problems with that choice.

1. I had never even so much has played that little plastic flute thing they give you in elementary school.

2. The only instruments I had heard of girls playing at that time were flutes and clarinets, and those would just make putting on lip gloss pointless.

3. You had to perform at halftime during football games making socialization impossible.

4. The uniforms looked hot and unflattering. Decision made! Chorus it was!!

Fast forward a few years. I had gotten married and had my daughter. I was back in shape and feeling pretty good about it. I had been walking for several miles each day, and riding a stationary bike as well. That's when I heard that coach in the back of my mind saying "Arlene/Darlene! Pick up those knees!"

Suddenly I thought, I can run. I just wasn't interested in it during school because it was hot, and I would ruin my makeup before my next class. That did it. I was on a mission. I got in the car and went right to the mall. I purchased some very cute, yet proper, running attire and I went back home and I suited up.

I marched myself into the den and said to my husband "Let's go". He asked "Where are we going?" I replied "we are going over to the high school. I am going to run around the track."

When he grew tired of laughing, he drove me to the school. I walked over to the track and he propped himself against our car and prepared to watch.

I was so clueless! I had no idea that you should stretch before you ran, or that you might want to pace yourself. I took off full throttle and began my run.

One quarter of the way around the track I found myself doubled over with severe side pain and gasping for breath. I was so upset. I mean I was in shape, or so I thought. I was twenty something!! What in the world was the problem?

Well, at that point my husband asked, while laughing shamelessly, if I was alright. I had no choice but to shout, between my gasps for air, "Just get the car." As I stood there waiting for the car to arrive, my intense side pain subsided, and I was able to regain the ability to draw breath.

It was at that point that I had an epiphany. I wasn't meant to be a runner! Period! I wasn't chosen to run. I don't have the God given talent to be a runner. It's as simple as that.

It wasn't me that had suffered the confusion about the whole running concept back on that same track years before. It was my Coach. I now believe that man actually thought that I had the ability to run....Bless his heart...

That was about 26 years ago. I have never attempted to run again, and unless I sense imminent danger I don't foresee it happening in my future. What with my not having any talent for it and all. I do, however, appreciate the effort of the runners I see out on the roads when I am in the car, and I think to myself...Yes sir..they've got a God given talent....I wonder if they know?

Mr. Romance Strikes Again

I have written, on more than one occasion, about my husbands lack of romantic ability, but this week he said something that prompted me to have to do so again.

Now you might be thinking that I'm expecting some mushy over the top romantic candlelit dinners, or flowers being sent on no special occasion, and that kind of thing. I can assure you that I'm not expecting any of that. I am a realist, who happens to be no where near delusional.

When I say that my husband lacks romance, I mean the man doesn't have a romantic bone in his entire body. To give you an idea let me present you with a few of the past incidents as evidence of this fact.

Here goes..He took me to the movies twice in one week and actually skipped a seat between us both times. There have been numerous Valentines day cards that he has given me over the years that were completely void of any reference to love or romance whatsoever. (Yes, they actually make them.) One that comes to mind said "On this Valentines Day I just wanted to tell you how I feel. That was on the front of the card, and inside it said.. "I feel fine.".

Good Lord the man can't even play along with holiday rules. I haven't been kissed under mistletoe since I married him. Last year I even hung a sign in my office at home that said Mistletoe testing done here...hint hint. I got nothing.

One evening I completely lost my mind and suggested that we make a calendar appointed date night once a week. He responded with "Why do I need to take you on a date? We've been married for twenty something years.

Yes, as you can probably already tell my husband is just full of cupid inspired remarks. A virtual fountain of love.

Anyway, on to what great thing he said this week. We were lying in bed and about to go to sleep and I looked at him and said "It bothers me that you never kiss me goodnight".

I want you to know that he looked at me and without any hesitation whatsoever, answered with a remark that was so intelligent, if I didn't know he had gone on to the hereafter, I would have thought I was sleeping with Einstein himself.

He said "It's implied". What?? Who being told that someone would like to be kissed goodnight says off of the top of their head "It's implied."?? Are you kidding me??

I was stunned into silence. I thought right then and there that of all the great things he has said to me in the twenty something years of our marriage this one was the winner.

Do you think that he laughed or bothered to say he was kidding...Oh no. He meant it. He actually thought he had given me a suitable answer. When I found my voice I said "Wow. So an implied kiss is the same as one that involves actual physical contact. Honey, you might not believe this, but I had no idea.".

We went to sleep as usual, without the goodnight kiss, but I couldn't help thinking that if a kiss could be "implied" then so could other things....

I had no idea that for years I could have been responding with "oh that? It's implied."...

Packing My Bags

When I was a little girl, and the school bell rang to signal that Summer was here, I only thought about one thing. How fast could I get my bags packed to go and stay with my Grandparents? My twin sister and I went every summer.

They lived in a house in what is now known as the “Historic Grant Park district” of Atlanta. The house sat up on a hill and was complete with a front porch that provided me with a place to make more treasured memories than I can even begin to count. There was a glider, two of those wonderful metal chairs that everyone had back then, and of course, a front porch swing.

Upon my arrival, I would race up the two flights of stairs that led to that porch, throw open the screen door, which would inevitably slam shut behind me, and run in the house like I was on fire, because I just knew they were going to be thrilled by my presence. My grandparents and my Aunt, that lived with them,would then respond by giving me hugs and kisses and acting like I was the best thing since sliced bread.

Those weeks were filled with so much fun and what seemed to me like endless days of adventure. I woke up in the mornings to the smell of my Granny frying bacon, eggs and making buttermilk pancakes, and was hummed to sleep at night by the sound of a window fan out in the kitchen that drew cool air through the house.

Every Monday was grocery store and drugstore day. My grandparents kept a schedule that rarely varied. One Monday we went to the grocery store and Granny said “When we're done here I'll take you next door and get you something.”. Next door was a Sunshine department store, and I knew what I wanted.

My sister went directly to the toy department, like most children would do, but not me. I went straight for the cosmetics. I found some light blue eye shadow, of the crème type, and I proceeded to beg for it.

I say beg, because my Grandfather called it war paint, and my Granny never wore it, nor cared for it herself, so they weren't in favor of making such a purchase. I can still hear her saying to me “Powder and paint make you what you ain't.”. She said “That mess will ruin your skin, and you don't need it.”.

It took me a few minutes, but when we left Sunshine's I had my eyeshadow and couldn't wait to get home to a mirror. I ran in the door and straight to my Aunt's vanity where I applied a very generous amount, and just knew that it looked amazing.

Less than 30 minutes later I had blisters that ran all the way across my eyelids from an allergic reaction, caused by my adolescent attempt at “beautiful”. I cried and carried on and the tears were not good... Lord have mercy did they burn. My Granny was a smart woman.

I did many things when I was at my grandparents house. To many to list here, but I am going to share a few.

There was a field beside the house where wild violets grew in deep purple, lavender and white. I would spend hours out in that field picking them until I'd have so many my hand could hardly close around them. I would bring them in and put them in glasses of water and place them in every room in the house. I still love violets today.

We'd sit on the front porch in the afternoons working puzzles on a card table or shelling/hulling purple peas, and snapping pole beans into bowls for supper. We'd talk about what we thought the trees across the street that were wrapped in kudzu vines looked like, or what the cloud shapes reminded us of.

I also learned to knit sitting on that front porch. My Granny was right handed and I was left handed, so it was a struggle, but she managed to teach me, and I loved it. I would sit for hours and knit. My Grandfather loved to tease me. I remember every time that I walked by him that Summer he would say “knit one, pearl two.”

Many old “Southern Sayings” were spoken and learned on that porch as well. I heard things like someone was “so stuck up if it rained they'd drowned”, and the sight of gray clouds brought “It's come up a cloud”...meaning a storm had blown in.

I have heard it said that someone was “no count”. This meant that the person was not making any sort of contribution to society whatsoever.

I heard “Lazy man's load” meaning trying to carry everything in one trip, when it should take several, or “poor to carry it” meaning someone was small for the load they were carrying. This could also be said about a small person if they had eaten more than it looked like they could hold.

The most important lesson I was taught by one of my Granny's sayings was without a doubt “Can't never could do nothing.”. Meaning if you said you couldn't then you never would because you were self defeating with your own words before you ever got started.

A close second I think would have to be that “You are judged by the company you keep.”'. My Mama reiterated this one and as an adult I know now that they were so right.


I was also taught that “A bird don't fly so high, it doesn't have to come down for water.”. This one meant simply that everyone needs someone at one time or another in their life. It took me a few years of growing up to understand that one, but now I totally get it.

The front porch was also a place for history lessons. I learned so much just sipping my sweet tea and listening to them talk. They told of how they met, they told stories of their parents, siblings, cousins, and friends, along with many other great stories of family and times gone by.

When my first love broke up with me, I was in high school. I was like just about every other girl, always applying my makeup, heavy on the lip gloss, rolling my hair with hot curlers, and wearing my perfume, but when we broke up, I was devastated. Near grown or not, I needed to be babied again, so I packed my bags and ran straight to Granny's house.

That's right I was going where there was no makeup required, sundresses and bare feet were accepted, and hair that was air dried, curly and wild was actually called beautiful. I needed love, rest, and to lick my wounds.

When I got there I was met with a hug and my Granny saying “Forget about him. Your backside would make him a Sunday face”... this reminded me that humor is also healing. Between the feeling of love and the humor that was provided, Granny's house gave me more inner healing than any spa in Buckhead could have.

I loved that house and front porch, and I loved the people who lived there. There was no better place for me than my grandparents house. There was a feeling of love, security, and peace there that was so strong it was close to tangible.

If you walked in feeling lonely or unloved they gave you their love, reminded you that Jesus was always with you and that you had his love. You left knowing you were wrong for thinking there was a lack of love in your life.

If you came in hungry you left full..(My Granny could stretch a meal like you wouldn't believe. I often joke that on any given Sunday she was like Jesus and the fish. No matter how many people walked in unexpected, after church, she fed everyone and there were leftovers.

The three people who lived there gave me so much more than they were ever aware of. They have, as my Granny would say, “Gone on to be with the Lord.”, and There are new residents in the house these days. I can only hope that they take time to sit and talk on the porch and learn a few things from each other.


As for me, there have been many times when I would love to pack my bags and run back to that house and the people who once lived there.

The knowledge that it is no longer possible has caused more than a few tears to spill onto my cheeks, but if I close my eyes and listen...

I can still hear that window fan humming, see a little girl among a field of violets, hear that screen door slam,and feel an unconditional love surround me......

Dick Clark, Juan Ponce de Leon, & My Husband

I have written several blogs, and the topics have been varied. However, there is one topic that I seem to write more about than any other. The topic that I am referring to is my husband. God love him, he gives me such great material that I can't help but write about him. This week has been no exception, so here goes....

He is forever asking sales clerks, and other random people, that don't know him, how old they think he is. I have to admit that 99.9 percent of the time they guess him to be at least ten years younger than his actual age.

I usually just keep my mouth shut, and walk away, although he doesn't necessarily deserve this kindness from me. I say this because when he speaks about my being in my forties, he makes me sound as if I'm about as useful, at this point, as a trap door in the bottom of a canoe.

Anyway... this past week he asked a sales woman to guess his age and Lord help me she gave him an answer of 32 years. He is 50..I thought I was going to have to stick a pin in his head just so he could get back in the car.

My first thought was to say yes he's 32 and you can go home with him if you'd like because I am not going to be able to tolerate living with him after your genius estimation. I mean really, this woman should work in an amusement park, or traveling fair. I'm just saying, with that kind of talent her working in retail sales is nothing more than a pure crying shame.

It's not that I am jealous, although I can't say I wouldn't love to look 32 myself. It's just that hearing it from him so much has become insufferable. I finally just went ahead and diagnosed him with "Dick Clark Syndrome" and asked him if we could just leave it at that.

I have no illusions about not looking my age. I know perfectly well that I do. I will also admit to buying every kind of youth serum and skin cream known to man and I will continue to do so, but I am well aware that I am not going to win that battle.

My husband, on the other hand, walks around like his bff is Juan Ponce de Leon, and they just had lunch and it included plenty of drinking water straight from the fountain. He's as delusional about his age as I would be if I thought that every time I sprayed my Este Lauder Youth Dew perfume on it took ten years off of mine.

Okay so now that I've explained the situation and what I'm dealing with I have to give it to him...He does actually look younger than he is by more than just a couple of years...

I do wish that he could find it in his heart to cut me a little slack about my age...I mean he may be Dick Clark on the outside, but I know his secrets...

You see...It's my reading glasses that he reaches for when we are in a restaurant and he would like to actually see a menu...It's me that knows he likes himself an occasional nap, and it's me that helps him celebrate those birthdays he has every June that pushes his chronological age further and further away from that 30 mark...

Let me just leave him with this...Honey you might be the keeper of youth, but as you continue to get older..never forget that I am the keeper of your secrets...

"I Am Reminded"

The past two months have been relatively stressful for me. I was sitting at my desk one night, deep in thought, or at least as deep in thought as I can get, about Lord only knows what, when I propped my chin in my hand.

Just as soon as my chin begin to rest there, I felt suddenly alarmed. Alarmed because I felt a knot in the right side of my neck.

I sat there stunned for a minute, and then I got up and went into the living room where my husband was sitting. I told him about my discovery and he said he'd go with me to the doctor to have it looked at.

My Doctor put me on antibiotics and said he thought it was just a swollen lymph node. He said to come back after I had finished taking the prescription that he gave me.

Well.. as the run of antibiotics began nearing the end, I knew that they hadn't worked. The lump was in fact much bigger than when I had gone to the doctor initially.

The second appointment day came and as soon as my doctor felt my neck, he looked me right in the eyes and said "Oooh this is not normal". "I am sending you to a specialist" Wow..nothing like someone shooting from the hip..especially when they are telling you what you don't want to hear..

This led to CTs, ultrasounds, thyroid tests, blood tests and every other kind of test you can think of. They were all scheduled very quickly and I heard the word stat much more often than I cared to.

My husband attended these appointments with me, but he didn't have near the anxiety that I had about it all. I know this because he was doing things at the appointments like reading children's books with titles like Peek-A-Boo I See You, while we were in the exam room.

I can also report that he was captured in photographs wearing a bright blue latex glove... on his head. If memory serves me correctly there are at least three different poses.

The specialist my primary care doctor had referred me to was an ENT who performed a biopsy on my first visit to his office. I waited for the results for two weeks and they were determined to be inconclusive..I went back to the Doctor and had a second biopsy and waited again...results?? Yep...ditto..inconclusive...

At this point the ENT called and told me that I needed surgery to remove the mass. I said are you sure? Like he might not have been???....He then assured me that he was, and said that it would be in my best interest.

My surgery was scheduled for May the 4Th and my anxiety level sky rocketed to the point of waking me up during what little sleep I was managing to get. Now don't get me wrong, I am a christian and I gave my worries to God several times about this whole thing, but Bottom line.... I was horrified at the thought of having my neck cut open.

I discussed this with my doctor to such great length that I believe my medical chart now reads diagnosis.."White Coat Syndrome". Evidently that is an actual diagnosis for people, such as myself, who are neurotic, and behave as I do when they are in the presence of their physician.

The surgeon I see is a wonderful Doctor and human being. I know the wonderful doctor part to be true, because I googled him. That's right... I did. I mean you have to investigate someone who is going to have a scalpel and be working that near your carotid artery and jugular vein right?

Upon my investigation, I discovered that he was a Yale graduate with 34 years experience and no history of malpractice suits..Awesome...

I say that he is a wonderful human being because he spent time with me...lots of time... During one of my appointments he was actually in the exam room with me for an hour. He answered my crazy questions and tried his very best to calm my concerns.

This man even listened intently as I explained to him that I would really appreciate him making the incision in one of my forty something year old neck wrinkles, so that it would be less visible when I wear my pearls.

He smiled at me, and then, with the patience of Job, responded by saying that he would be happy to pinch up my skin and see what he could do...I'm not trying to sound like a terrible person full of vanity, but it doesn't hurt to ask..right??

Well the surgery day, and hospital stay came and went. The tube has been removed and the bandage is off. The prayers of my family and friends were answered when my pathology report came back to reveal that this was not Cancer.

There is nothing that I can write here that could begin to cover the way the out pouring of care and concern and prayers for me made me feel. I am overcome with emotion when I think about it.

I will be honest and say that when I looked in the mirror the first time, tears fell...

They fell for the all of the love that came my way, for all of the anxiety I had suffered, for the pain, and for the relief of my test results, but most of all, for God answering prayers for me yet again...

You see this isn't my first scare, and the last time I just prayed for God to let me live long enough to see my children grow up. My baby is twenty years old now, and during all of this, I kept thinking this could very well be all that I get.

I am very appreciative of the years that I have been given so far, and Lord I don't mean to sound selfish, but I do want to see my grand babies grow up.

To be totally honest with you my tears also fell because I am human, and the red slash mark that is the visible evidence of all that I have gone through is a bit hard for me to look at....

My surgeon did an excellent job, and the scar will be in a crease and will eventually fade to virtually invisible. I am grateful for that. What will not fade for me, however, is the memory of the many prayers, calls, concerns and I love yous, that were sent my way during this time..

I am reminded by all of this to live life, and that in love, family, and friendships...God has made me a very rich woman...

" A Camel? In A Pickup Truck? Only My Husband"

I realize that I have written previously about my husbands antique collecting and treasure hunting, but today I feel moved to do so again. I feel this way because just when I thought it wasn't possible, he has outdone himself.

Last week, he went out on a search and find mission. He purchased himself a camel that was, so I am told, used as a prop in a show that was put on in a much earlier decade.

I do not mean just some small camel like you would see in a manger scene in front of a church at Christmas time. Oh no....keep in mind we are talking about MY husband.

This camel is very large, and when I say very large I mean VERY large, as in about 12feet high, give or take a few inches.

After making said purchase, my husband and brother loaded this camel in the bed of our Ford F-150 pick-up truck and proceeded home at what I am sure was a very slow rate.

As luck would have it, when he turned onto our street, I just happened to be glancing out the front window of our home. Needless to say, it crossed my mind, like Aunt Pittypat from Gone With The Wind, to ask my son to get me my smelling salts.

When he came into the house, my husband and I had a small discussion wherein I tried to obtain some understanding on why one would make such a "great purchase", but when I failed miserably to reach such an understanding, I gave up, and retired to our bedroom....but this story gets much better...

The next morning I was sitting at my desk at school, waiting on the students to arrive, when I received a phone call from my cousin, who by the way, had seen the camel in the back of the truck the night it was purchased. It seems my husband had stopped by to see her and my aunt and uncle on his way home.

She asked me if I had a minute. I said that I did. She said "I would like to read you something".

She went on to say, this is from a Butts County newspaper, and began to read...it went something like...I know work was hard this week, but I swear I just saw a camel going through town in the back of a pickup truck.

This statement made by a citizen, was located on the front page of the paper she was reading from, however, if you take the time to open the paper the individual goes on to say that they do believe they need an alcoholic beverage....

Well, let me just say.....Not as badly as I do...

Lord, try as I might, I cannot for the life of me understand why my marriage certificate did not come with some sort of a warning label. It should have said something like This man is prone to buying vintage items both large and small and will be bringing them to your home....constantly...

It could have been typed in or put there in the form of a sticker like they do when they put warnings on medications...but no....I was blind sided....

Most of the time I just smile and I am very happy that he has found something that he loves to do, now that he is retired from the police department. I mean 27 or so years of protecting and serving is quite a bit.

Every now and then, however, when he does something of this magnitude, I have to say that it's hard not to just ask him to hand over all of his cash and his debit card, and declare him to dangerous to have them....

I just got off the phone with him a few minutes ago, and he informed me that he visited the newspaper office today. The one that wrote about the camel in our truck. He said he was actually "interviewed" for lack of a better word, about the camel and its origin. He also said that he supplied them with a photo.

I didn't want to have to move and change my name...

"In Front Of My Doctor? Really?"

The other day, I had to make a doctors appointment because I have a swollen lymph node in my neck. I prayed, and tried every home remedy you could think of first, because I had rather be beaten than go to the doctor. I have post traumatic stress from a childhood injury which led to the "White Coat Syndrome" that I now have as an adult.

At any rate, I called and made myself an appointment while I was at work. I didn't want to go, but since I knew that I had to go, I made a great decision... I decided that I would drive home first and pick my husband up so that I wouldn't be alone if they diagnosed me with something devastating. What in the name of the good Lord was I thinking?

My first clue that taking him with me might not be the brightest idea I've ever had, came in the form of a statement he made on the way there. He looked at me, very seriously, and said "Did you know that if something happens to you before it does me my pension amount will go up?" What? Really??

We arrived on time and everything was going fine in the waiting room, but when they called my name to come back, it was like someone whispered in his ear "it's showtime."

He began by giving the nurse too much information about himself and the overall conversation that he had with her resulted in my usually low blood pressure reading 155/99.

I politely ask that he refrain from talking for a few minutes and my blood pressure was brought under control by a combination of my deep breathing, and my ability to go somewhere else in my mind.

The problem was, just as soon as we were left alone in the exam room it was evidently time for Act II.

He sat on the stool the doctor uses, which of course was on wheels and began to use his body weight and arms to roll all over the room without his feet touching the floor. He did this pausing only long enough to snatch the instrument they use to examine your ears off the wall, where it was hanging, to take it along for the ride.

After almost falling from the stool backwards, and cracking his head open in the process, you would think that he would have needed an intermission, but oh no..this caused laughter which brought him to tears....

Enter the doctor stage left......The doctor began by asking me all of the routine questions that I expected. I was answering them, and praying for silence from the peanut gallery, when I was asked the one question that my husband couldn't seem to let go by without answering for me.

The doctor said Do you have multiple sex partners Mrs. Foster? To which I immediately replied no, and then the peanut gallery chimed in. He said, very seriously, excuse me doctor, but she does go missing on the weekends.

I wanted the floor to just swallow me up, then and there. When it became apparent that this wasn't going to happen, I just repeated my answer and said no I do not have multiple partners. Thankfully, the doctor moved on..The doctor then said So he is your only partner?

As you can imagine there was a hard pause...Lord, at that point my husband was acting so unbelievable that I wanted to say no...I lied..there is someone else, and I do go missing on the weekends....I didn't of course, but I do believe the doctor would have understood.

You would think that all of that would have been quite enough, but no it wasn't...
The King of comedy just kept it coming...

The doctor began to explain to me what he thought was wrong. He said, Mrs. Foster I'm not sure, but this could be from a cold you have had recently, or it could just be an infection in your lymph node....

Well that did it. Just as soon as the doctor had spoken the word infection I heard my husband say "Infection?" I kiss her. There was dead silence in the room...The next comment he made was even better...."He looked right at the doctor and he said, with alarm in his voice, "You know I don't mean just a peck!...I mean, I've had my tongue in her mouth!"

At that point I almost blacked out...I have never been more mortified in my entire life. When I could focus again, I looked right at my husband and I mouthed silently to him these words.."I want you out of here now." As you might have guessed he remained in the room acting as if he had no idea what I had tried to convey to him.

I could not get my throat culture done, or my antibiotic prescription in my hand fast enough. As we were leaving he looked at the doctor and said so you want us to come back in 10 days if this medicine doesn't take care of it. Right? I remained silent, the doctor said yes, and the visit was over.

When we were finally in the truck with the doors closed, I looked at him, and said with the utmost sincerity..."I now know for sure that you are delusional." He then asked me what I meant. I, in turn, had a question. I said did you not hear yourself say the word "us" in reference to a return visit to the doctor?

He responded with a yes, and I said then let me give you some clarification on the matter...

If you think for one minute I would go back into a doctors office with you at my side, you are beyond insane. You are, in fact, so certifiable that you should actually walk around with papers in your hand stating that fact..

I mean I love this man y'all, but I have decided that he really should come with some sort of a warning label....It could read something like:

Warning: Prone to blurting out uncensored thoughts that are at times inappropriate, and performs random dance moves and stunts,both privately and in public, while wearing one of a kind outfit creations....

"White Rabbits And Other Treasures"

This morning I opened the door that leads from inside our home to the garage and the first thing I saw was a very large white rabbit. For a fleeting moment I thought my name was Alice, and I had fallen into a hole, but before I began to spin hopelessly out of control, I spotted the over sized operating room lamp from the 1940's standing next to it. I knew then that I was in fact not Alice, but that my husband had been out buying antiques again.

After further investigation, I learned that the white rabbit was actually a prop for the Ice Capades in the 1940's or 50's..along with the stage lights and costumes that were lying beside said rabbit.

I was also informed that people who decorate lofts are loving these old operating room lamps for corners of their rooms. I had no idea. Evidently I live under a rock...

My husband has been buying and selling antiques for years. He keeps some pieces that we like, and resells others. He loves it, and he has been able to do this while making a profit most of the time.

The things he brought home when he was still working at the police department were few in number, but now that he's retired he has filled a rented storage unit, and the phrase that seems to fit our garage these days is "cut a path". I mean it looks like there was a taping of Antique Roadshow going on and someone ran amuck.

Antiquing has other downfalls that one may not think about right away. For instance, the other night he came walking in with a box full of things to look through. When he sat it down on the floor a bug came crawling out that I could not even begin to identify. Once he had taken care of the bug, I sent him and his little treasure box right back out the door. I have since created a check point at the door that leads out to our garage and have informed him of its hours of operation.

Don't get me wrong, I have an appreciation for certain antiques, and he has brought home some really neat things, like an original program from the Gone With The Wind premiere, which I love, and an actual column from when the restoration of the Fox Theatre in Atlanta was done.

There have also been things like really old letters and postcards from the early 1800's that were very fascinating to read.

It makes me happy that he has something to do that he enjoys so much. I just think maybe he should be a bit more selective in what he brings home. I mean a large white rabbit? Seriously?

Please believe me when I tell you that the white rabbit only scratches the surface of his "purchases".

This man has brought home things that even he can't identify by name, use, or purpose, as well as some that can be identified, but I have been unable to grasp the need for. We are talking about a man who once bought a pair of antique bowling shoes complete with size on the back, and actually wore them downtown to the Phillips Arena for a Thrashers game. Oh yes, as a bonus, he is at all times a man of great style and fashion sense.

There are also times that I find myself thinking that it would be nice if I could go out and get into the truck without having to call him to unload it first...you see the thing is I have no intention whatsoever of driving around town looking like I just drove straight out of an episode of Sanford And Son.

Speaking of the truck, I do also happen to know that he, at some point, came across some old 96 Rock stickers. I know this because I spotted the one that he has recently applied to the bumper of our truck. 96 Rock was a very popular radio station here in Atlanta during the late 1970's. It was what my husband listened to when he was in high school..Rock On!!

Like I said before, I appreciate some antiques myself, but Lord have mercy on a wife who has to make old bowling shoes disappear, and weave her way through white rabbits and operating room lamps just to get into her vehicle so she can leave for work every morning...

"Playing To An Audience Of One"

I have learned quite a few things about my husband in the many years that we've been married, among them being that he enjoys providing me with entertainment.

I'm not talking about the movies, or the fact that he takes me to plays and dancing. In fact, Jesus will come before he does any of those things with me.

The entertainment I'm referring to is very sporadic and random, and consists of singing and dancing. Sometimes one, sometimes the other, or at times these talents can be seen simultaneously.

Be advised the shows start whenever the spirit moves him, and let me just say that the spirit moves him both at home, and in the public. The timing evidently cannot be controlled.

I will share with you a few examples of how random these performances can be. He has been known to dance and sing across the catwalk in our former home in what I can only compare to a risky business "outfit" minus the shades.

On another occasion we were at the grocery store, and as we were strolling down the cereal aisle he suddenly snatched up a box of pop tarts and began a little song and dance routine like he had been hired by the Kellogg's Company and placed in their advertising department.

Needless to say I immediately sped up with the shopping cart, but as I was leaving him behind he shouted out "Ma'am, Ma'am..if you leave I have to start the whole routine over again...There were many onlookers.... I was mortified...him? Not at all..

One afternoon as I was coming home from work he called and asked me where I was. I told him that I was driving home, and he said "Just listen to this"...

The next thing I heard was a rather loud rendition of When A Man Loves A Woman, and it was my husband singing it. I have to admit it made me smile and upon hearing some of the notes even chuckle. When I finally arrived home that day I learned that he had, in his spare time,discovered Karaoke on demand.

Just the other day I was sitting in my office, drinking my first cup of coffee of the morning, when suddenly there he was in front of my desk. He began to sing....
very loudly....He stood there doing his best Bob Seger imitation. He was pouring his heart and soul into Turn The Page. It was 8:30 A.M. on a Saturday morning....

At first...I just sat there and stared at him...with what I am sure, was a look of disbelief on my face...A look that most assuredly asked, Seriously? Is this happening right now?

I then had a fleeting thought about the You Tube potential, but it passed as quickly as it came. This thought was followed by my thinking I am married to a man with a mind that is considerably unstable..

But as the song went on and I began to relax a bit with the aid of the laughter his performance brought me.... I couldn't help but think how very happy I am to be married to a man that thinks I am worth the time and effort he spends on these many occasions ..

The occasions when the spirit moves him and he's "playing to an audience of one"......

"Mama Tucked Me In"

This past week we had a winter storm that left us with very cold temperatures and lots of Ice on the ground. As luck would have it my heat was out at my house and due to ice on the roads causing business closings, the repairman couldn't get the part that was needed to fix it.

My husband was out of town so that left me and my son at home, and I will tell you it was just to cold to stay. I have the most loving family that anyone could hope to be blessed with so my sister and her husband were kind enough to take us in for a few days.

When we got there I was very happy to see that my Mama had also come down from Athens, GA and was there to stay through the storm as well.

We all got along very well and it was so nice to spend such quality time with each other laughing and talking over cup after cup of coffee, and enjoying good old fashion dinners cooked by Mama.

The time seemed to go by so quickly with one day leading into the next, and before I knew it, four days had gone by and it was time to go home.

When I finally left my sister's house on Wednesday, however, It was with an amazing gift from my Mama. It was the gift of a memory that I will cherish until I draw my last breath. A reminder of the unconditional love of a mother for her children.

I was downstairs on my sisters couch about to fall asleep. It was going to be the first night I had slept without a heating blanket because I had let my son use it.

My Mama came in, and I felt her putting another blanket on top of me and she literally tucked me in. She said, "This is a new blanket I brought with me. I've never even used it." I put my hand over hers and I said Mama, you are so sweet to think about me, and she said "I was afraid you'd get cold down here, and it's what Mama's do."

I'm forty something years old and it's been a long long time since my Mama tucked me in. In that moment she gave me a glimpse back into my childhood. It was complete with the feeling that I was safe from the world and that everything was okay because my Mama was in charge and because she loved me.

When I was leaving on Wednesday she handed me that blanket, and she said you keep this and I looked at her and I said "Mama this is a treasure and I will cherish it always." I explained to her then just how much it had meant to me for her to tuck me in with that blanket. I told her what a true gift it had been for me.

I slept like a baby that night and probably let go of things I've been worried about for years.

Somehow, I know that in the future if I'm having trouble sleeping, I can just use that blanket, and it will help. There is nothing on Earth that can come close to the love of a great Mama.....and I am blessed not only with that love, but with the wisdom to appreciate it....

I love you Mama...