Chunky Monkey

What is it about a pint of Ben & Jerry's Chunky Monkey ice cream?  Beyond the creamy banana and gorgeous chunks of chocolate, there's something indescribably delicious about a carton of your favorite flavor.  When is the "just right" time for ice cream?

1.  After a really tough day at work.

2.  After a fabulous day at the job.

3.  When you need to console yourself through an argument with your spouse.

4.  As a celebration treat with your spouse.

5.  On a scorchingly hot summer evening.

6.  On a warm piece of pie on a frigid night.

7.  To get a burst of energy to accomplish that huge item on the list of things to do.

8.  As a reward for finishing one more "honey-do."

9.  To try something completely new.

10.  To remember what it's like to be a kid.

Looking over my list - it looks like I can give myself just about any excuse to spoon into my favorite frozen treat!

Darn Dog!

I decided that I'd do it differently.  Having dog hair on every piece of furniture, including the bed, had been the trend for twenty years.  But with this new dog, I was bound to do things differently.  And we did.  He can only sleep in his bed.  He's not allowed on the couch.  Even jumping up onto our knees to get a pet is frowned upon.

Then why did I do it?

Being the only one to sleep in the bed is no fun.  And it was SO cold last night.  So…I did it.  I called him up onto the bed.

"Come on up, Pal."  

No response.

"Up here."  I patted my husband's side of the bed.

He gazed at me disbelievingly.  He didn't move.  

"Don't you want to come on up?  It's really comfy," I tempted.

Nope.  Not even a paw on the blankets.

Oh, well.  I guess I'll just have to show him that it's OK.

I leaned over, picked him up gently, and placed him on the bed right between two pillows.

His eyes followed me as I walked back to my side of the bed.

Thank goodness, I thought.

I pulled up the covers to cozy up to him.  I rolled over, and he jumped off.  Back into his own bed.

Darn dog!

"Maybe you're going to get into trouble with the boss, but not me!" he seemed to be saying.

Capturing a Moment

On the morning of August 21st I was driven by my two best friends away from my home towards my future.  The only action required on my behalf was cooperation as I was escorted to a room where my friends skillfully coiffed my hair, applied a generous amount of makeup to my face and placed me inside  a white wedding dress.

In what seemed like a breath of time later the wedding coordinator stepped into the ladies' chamber.  "OK. It's all about you now.  We're ready."

I stepped out into the living room of the large estate where the guests sat, their backs to me.  There were rows lined up of white chairs on a carpet of green grass.  Quite a few guests had pulled their seats out of the sun and into the shade of the large oak trees.  Everyone was up front.  And waiting.  On the left back side stood my childhood friend of fifteen years singing and playing her guitar.  The man I loved stood by the minister, smiling and relaxed.  

Me?  I was standing at the door, holding up my father, rehearsing the one line he needed to deliver.  "Her mother and I."

The wedding coordinator took three long strides towards me.  "Off you go."

"No.  It's a long song.  I chose it on purpose.  They can wait."

I wasn't sure how she interpreted my words, but I didn't care in the least bit.  This was the only time I planned on performing this ritual in my life, and I wanted the moment to last.  I gazed from left to right to take a panoramic picture of the day; the weather, the scents, the sounds and visual images needed to be imprinted on my brain.

The oak leaves are swaying in the breeze.  There's not a heavy wind, but just enough to cool down the summer heat.  Thank you God for the breeze!  A bit of natural air conditioning.  I smell jasmine.  Just like at mom's house.  Hmmm...I'm probably never going to live there again.  This song...it's perfect!  Love her voice - and how does she sing with such clarity?  Has she always produced such beautiful music or did I just wake up to realize it?  And dad, the way he holds my hand...or am I holding his?  

"All right.  I'm ready now."  At least, I thought I was.

Just .5 Miles

Summer in New York.  Some say that Fall is the best season in the Big Apple.  I wouldn't know.  But I do know the heat of July in the city.

Our plane from LA landed in New York on a pleasantly mild Saturday.  There were four of us - and I was elected tour guide, being the only one of the group who had visited before.  After a whirlwind Sunday sightseeing, eating, visiting national monuments and gazing at skyscrapers, we decided to grab some basic supplies for the week at a local market and call it a day.

Armed with my digital device, I whipped out my phone to locate the market closest to our rooms.  I excitedly let the group know that there was a market just .5 miles from our residence.  We maneuvered through the subways where we succeeded in finding the store.  I felt a bit odd.  Things didn't seem familiar.  This just didn't quite look like the neighborhood that I remembered.  Not to worry, we'd be just fine.  Perhaps I hadn't paid that close attention to what the neighborhood looked like.  I'd keep my concerns to myself.  No need to worry the group.

Each friend exited the store loaded with food.  Large grocery bags of fruit, crackers, yogurt and cheese were held in each arm.  One of them had purchased a 2.5 gallon container of water.  Someone suggested we call a cab.  "Oh no! It's just .5 miles to our place," I reminded them.  I pulled out my device again and charted a route.  Interesting.  The route had changed.  What had been .5 miles now expanded to 2.5.  "Hey guys, this may be more a bit of a walk than I first thought.  I'm not sure what happened, but the phone says we have to walk 2.5 miles now.  But I think we can do it."  After a short exchange, the ladies agreed.  We moved in the direction the phone was leading us.

Past stores.  Past restaurants.  Past people.  Past the time we believed we'd be out shopping.  I pulled out the phone again.  "Oh, we are just on the other side of Central Park.  If we follow this road here," I gestured pointing, "we should be there in no time."  

My followers gazed up at me somewhat more hesitantly now.  "OK," they responded.  What choice did they have?  

Thirty minutes later the .5 mile walk came to a screeching halt.  There was a fork in the road.  

"I really have to go to the bathroom," Paola declared.  

"I'm hungry," Ana responded.

"And I'm not really sure I can carry this water one more step!" Fonda exclaimed.

Each of the four of us collapsed onto a bench, surveying each one's face tentatively, then exploding into laughter.  "Really, 2.5 miles?!  I think we've walked at least 5 miles!" 

"And me in my Chinese chanclas!"

Two conversations with police officers, one subway ride and 45 minutes later we arrived in our rooms, loaded down with water, yogurt, cheese and crackers to feed a small battalion.  The first of many walks  sprinkled with storytelling, laughter, and even complaining.  My nickname on that trip became "Just .5 miles."  It brings a smile to my face each time they mention it.  Friendships are forged in a variety of places.  The heat of NYC bonded four women for life.

Shamrock Shake

It felt as if we returned back to our dating life, sitting in our car in the McDonald's parking lot.  I'm grinning ear to ear, holding my Shamrock shake.  He's turning on the tunes on the radio, making sure I'm comfortable and that the seat warmer is operational.  I offer to remove the "foreign object" of a cherry from his chocolate shake.  He quickly agrees and opens up the bag of fries.  Oversalted, but warm, we enjoy our fast food indulgence as the rain decorates the windshield with polka dot patterns.

It seems that we spent many evenings this way at the beginning of our relationship.  We were pleased just to be  together, privacy of our car, eating whatever was fast and available.  And here we are twenty years later, drinking shakes and munching on fries, salt-strewn hands brushing up against each other in the bag.  Less words are needed now, but more deeply understood.

I'm thankful that the simple times continue to hold so much meaning for us both.  We're healthy.  We still enjoy each others' company.  Even with shakes and fries for dinner, I live a rich life.

She arrived at the house before I did.  I pulled into the driveway and watched her tentatively open the driver's side door, step out into the street and shield her eyes from the sun.  We had decided that we'd meet today to look at the website together.  The one that would open or shut the door to her hopes of being a nurse, her wishes for the past thirty-five years.  Her score on that one exam.

She'd stopped speaking with hope a couple of weeks ago.  I'd noticed that she rarely spoke of working in the ER or applying to St. Jude. The chic hairdo I'd known her for had been replaced by a low ponytail, quickly pulled back from her face.  The conversations she'd had with her husband about picking up a waitressing job had been more frequent, as well as their arguments.  At the same time, our conversations on the phone had grown lengthier.  

As we met in front of the door I embraced her as she started to cry.  "What if I didn't pass again?  I don't know that I can study for this crazy test again.  Maybe it's just not in me.  Could it really have been that the past six years of schooling were for nothing?"

I haven't grown skill in a variety of areas in life, but I have developed the craft of listening.  She sat in the kitchen and continued to talk as I put together a small lunch.  We retold the events of our morning and tried to pause the inevitable.

As we finally moved towards the computer we held hands.  1.  Type in browser url.  2.  Fill in template with name and ID number.  3.  Wait without breathing.  AND… Licensed Registered Nurse!  More tears, more hugging, lots of laughter.

We finished the afternoon together with a prayer of thanks and a few rounds of Just Dance 4.  The seemingly tribal combination was an appropriate mix of words and gestures to express the joy we'd shared.  As I walked her outside we paused again in the driveway and I couldn't help but notice a new beam of confidence in her eye, smile on her face…the way she squeezed my hand when she said goodbye.  "I'm hopeful," she whispered, "I'm going to keep on believing in miracles!"

SOL

It was 5:00, the evening before Thanksgiving and I had a million things on my to do list:  bake pies, clean the living room, finish cards, wash the linens.  And of course, my husband was still caught at work and not home to help me get started.  The phone rang and I was relieved he was calling.  Hopefully, he was telling me he was almost home.

"I have a surprise for you," my husband said mysteriously.

"Unless it's diamonds, chocolate, or a genie to do all of my chores, take it back," I responded.

It was none of the above.  It was nothing I had the least bit of interest in.  It was a dog.

I couldn't believe he would bring a hyper, running in circles, twenty-pound non-stop, fur-coated muscle machine terrier into our home.  I refused to name him.

"Let's call him Pal," I suggested.  "That way, when we take him to the pound on Monday, I won't feel so badly.

My heart went out to our seventeen year old American Eskimo as she shockingly endured this "other" puppy.  Jumping into bed with her, pulling on her tail, beating her to every dinner bowl and harassing her right in the middle of nap time.

That was six years ago.  Pal's still her and his name stuck around, too.  Perhaps it's not always necessary to look for new friends.  Sometimes they just come to us.