Snips, Snails, Puppy Dog Tales and Many, Many Coach Purses

Romeo and Juliet sitting pretty for the camera.

Romeo and Juliet sitting pretty for the camera.

Daily Prompt:

My husband and I have been married close to 13 years.  At the beginning, we lived in a very modest apartment with hand-me-down furniture or throw-away pieces that my mother would find sitting by the dumpster.  After a while, my husband was anxious for us to buy a house.  Several times we made appointments to talk with a loan officer only to cancel because I really wasn’t comfortable making that move yet.

Now all my life I have had a dog. I love them.  Our entire time in the apartment, I would lament to Chuck how I wanted to get a puppy.  Though he also loved animals, Chuck was completely against getting any animal because he knew that, with my travels, he would be its primary care taker.  At the same time, Chuck was wanting a place to continue working on his dream car.  My husband turned that longing into a “deal”.  He offered to agree to get a dog of my choosing after we bought a house with a garage.  After careful consideration, we shook hands to seal the deal as proper business people.

It wasn’t long after the “deal” that I was approached by my company about a potential move to Florida.  We made a couple of trips to check out the area and look for houses.  We found the house of our dreams and took the leap.  During the excitement of our big move, I completely forgot about the “deal”.  Of course, my husband didn’t remind me either since it was really in his best interest to keep quiet.


Romeo taking a nap, but ready to pounce on anyone getting close to him momma.

It would be close to three years before I actually remembered our agreement.  When I did remember, I began doing research on dog breeds to figure out the type of dog that would fit best in our household.  Once I had settled on a miniature schnauzer as the perfect breed and found an available puppy close by, I was ready to lovingly remind my husband of his side of our bargain.  We were sitting at dinner one evening, when I asked Chuck if he remembered our deal.  Of course he did, but I sat patiently waiting for him to fall into the trap I was setting for him.  After he acknowledged that he indeed remembered our agreement, I was ready to spring the trap.  I was giddy with excitement to see his face when he realized he had been set up.

I politely reminded him that he had not kept up his end of our bargain.  I also reminded him that when we purchased our house, we signed a loan agreement with the bank and agreed to pay a late charge if we did not make our payments as agreed.  Of course he knew that, he signed the documents too.  Anyway,  I informed him that although our “deal” was not in writing, it was considered a contract and would likely hold up in court if it came to that.  I reminded him that our agreement was that I would get a dog when we purchased a house with a garage.  Our purchase was completed over 2 years prior to this conversation, but I had yet to receive the dog.  I calmly informed him that he was now in default of our agreement and the default interest rate was kicking in.

Juliet - such a sweet and pretty little girl

is such a sweet

and pretty little girl

When he inquired what the default interest rate was, I explained that he was now required to purchase me a dog for every year he was late in fulfilling his end of the bargain.  He was up to owing me two dogs and was very close to owing me a third dog.  I was demanding payment in full or I was taking over the garage and selling his dream car.  Now it was not my intention to take over the garage, I simply wanted what I was promised, a dog – but now I was going to make him pay for not keeping his word.

He nearly hit the roof when he heard that he was close to owing me three dogs.  Two was his ultimate limit and he would do anything to keep from owing me the third dog.  I could hardly disguise my excitement at what was coming next.  I told him that I would forgo the third dog if he would commit to my new terms.   They were as follows:

  • Immediately purchase the miniature schnauzer puppy I had found.  He was required to make the purchase within the next seven days.  What he didn’t realize is that I had already contacted the breeder and had made a deposit on the puppy.  We were scheduled to pick him up the following Saturday.
  • Agree to allow me to find and purchase a second miniature schnauzer puppy within the next 12 months.  I had always wanted a matching set.
  • Agree (in writing) that he would purchase me a Coach purse of my choosing with a matching wallet every three months for the rest of my natural-born  life.

Our written agreement
signed no less!!!

I figured the requirement over the purses was probably a stretch, but why not go for broke.  I was bracing for the worst while he contemplated his dilemma.  You could have knocked me over with a feather when he agreed to ALL of my terms.  I immediately drafted a written document for both of us to sign and placed it in front of him.  He questioned whether I trusted him.  I did, but he had not followed through with our previous agreement and I wanted him to understand what the consequence would be should he choose to default again.  He reluctantly signed the agreement and we sealed our compromise with a hand shake and a kiss.

Later that night, I shared pictures of our new pup and the names I had come up with for this one (Romeo) and our future pup (Juliet).  True to his word (and my planning), we drove to Jacksonville, Florida the following Saturday and picked up Romeo.  On the way home, we stopped at the Coach store and picked up what would be the first in many, many Coach purses.

Fast forward five years later to present day, my beloved has kept his word and fulfilled nearly all of the requirements of our agreement.  We have two miniature schnauzers (Romeo and Juliet).  He has also somewhat refrained from complaining as my collection of Coach purses grows.  Now I really don’t buy one every three months, but when he starts complaining, I make sure that I could be getting them four times a year instead of one or two.  That usually quiets him down a bit.

Happy 50th Birthday

Happy 50th Birthday

Today was his 50th birthday.  We decided to go to the mall to pick up a few things.  While we were there, he asked if I wanted to take a stroll to the Coach store.  As we walked in the door, I spotted the most gorgeous purse I had ever seen.  It was talking to me loud and clear.  Chuck had walked by this purse every morning during his daily walks around the mall.  He told me each time he’d stop and think how good that would look on my arm.  OMG, he was so right.  It was awesome.  There was no way I was leaving without it!!

The Best Coach Purse EVERHe grabbed my arm and said “maybe later”.  Are you kidding??? You bring me in the store, dangle the purse of my life in front of me, then make me leave.  I don’t think so.  What I realized was that he was playing my game.  He had every intention of buying that purse for me.  He just wanted to see me squirm kind of like what I do to him occasionally.  The only difference was that I didn’t have to sign my life over to get it.  Thank God, because I probably would have!!

Daily Prompt: Home and Heart – A Lesson in Love and Promises Kept

100_0334Since my daughter was born in 1996, my mother and I had a very, very close relationship.  We either lived together or our doorsteps were within feet of each other.  In 2005, I made a huge career move and relocated myMom and Allie - The Early Years family from Kentucky to Florida.  My mother was right by my side.  I can’t say that things were always peaceful.  Both of us were strong, opinionated women.  We would but heads, but never stayed angry for long.  My husband and daughter were the peaceful ones of the house.  My mother loved both of them dearly.  I often told my husband that she likely loved him more than me.  They would sit and talk for hours. I believe he would have given his life for her had she asked.  When I think about the two people in my life that made my career possible, these would be the two.  It doesn’t matter how smart or successful you can become, without a supportive family, life in my line of business is not possible.  It also doesn’t matDSC_0896ter where your head rests at night, home is truly where your heart is.  My heart belonged with my mother, husband, and daughter.

No matter how my life changed, my mother was my life force.  No matter where we were or how far apart we were, I knew and could feel her force in my life.  In 2008, my sister, still living in Ky, gave birth to my niece (Emma-Marie).  My mother faced a dilemma, she wanted to have the same relationship with Emma that she had with my daughter.  I was sad to see her go back to Kentucky, but completely understood.

Later that same year, my mother began having tingling sensations in her left hand.  She went to the doctor and physical therapy to work through what they thought was a pinched nerve.  In February 2009, we received terrible news that the pinched nerve was a symptom of a serious type of lung cancer called Pancoast’s Tumor.  As heartbreaking as this was, it was a miracle that she was back in Kentucky.  The medical treatment possibilities in Louisville were endless while the offerings in our area in Florida was fair at the very best.

Gatton LadiesShe began a very aggressive regime of treatment in an attempt to beat the cancer.  During this time, her spirits were amazing.  She continued her role as the comforter of the family, even though we should have been comforting her.   My life on the road continued.  Though she was in Ky, I could still feel her life force in my soul.  My mother and I would talk everyday, several times a day.  In the summer of 2009, she chose to stop all treatments in order to live the remainder of her days making the most of the time she had left.

During this time, we were living apart. She was in Ky with the rest of our family and I was in Florida. I went to visit her quite often. We would sit and talk about anything that crossed our minds. Every time I left to come home to Florida, I had to say my goodbyes in case it was the last time.  Each time I visited with her, saying goodbye was harder.  I knew we were getting closer to the day when goodbye would be forever.

Angels in our midst

Picture provided by
Andrea Patterson-Flaherty

I always let my mother drive our conversations.  This was her condition and her life.  She needed to go through the stages of grief at her pace, hopefully eventually coming to accept the cards as they were dealt.  During one of the last visits, she wanted to talk about dying.  There were several times she would speak of seeing angels around her.  My aunts would roll their eyes thinking that she was delusional from the medication.  What did it matter, if she was comforted then who cares.

She would talk about the angels and even describe them in vivid detail.  There was one time in particular that gave me chills because she actually knew the name of the angel.  This particular angel she had spoken of was a lady named Pauline, whom we both knew.  Pauline was a member of our church in Florida.  My mother and Pauline wrote letters fairly often.  What my mom didn’t know was than Pauline had passed away the week prior to this conversation.  So when my mother mentioned the angel looking exactly like Pauline, I knew she was not delusional.  God had sent angels to comfort her while she was in transition.

She was coming to accept that her time was limited.  She began to talk about the things she needed to accomplish before going.  Everyone has things that they have to do before dying.  There are times that these “things” actually keep us going until we can be assured that our jobs are finished.  This was how it was with my mother.  She was always thinking of her kids.  Her need for me was to be able to let go of her and know that I would be OK.  This was tough especially since I had no idea of how she would be on the “other side”.  Would she be truly happy and pain-free?  My entire life to this point had told me that she would be in Heaven and that it was great.  How could I know for sure?  It is not like I could go there and check it out.

DSC_0192_2So, I did the next best thing.  I asked her to promise that she would come back and tell me she was happy.  That would be the only way, I could let go.  This request made her laugh harder than I had heard her laugh in a while saying that I was always the one to place conditions on everything.  She replied that she wasn’t sure if that would be possible.  I told her that she must demand that God allow her to come back.  If she promised, it would be so.  She had spent her life rejoicing in the glory of God’s will for her life without ever asking Him for anything.  How could He refuse, right?  Well she did what any mother would do in this situation, she promised that she would come back after her death and let me know she was fine.

Time went by and we never spoke of this request again nor did I mention it to anyone else for fear that they would really thing I was loony.  My visits continued as her condition deteriorated.  As my last visit was coming to an end, I was coming to realize that this was quite possibly the last time I would actually speak to my mother.  As I left, I knew that in the coming weeks, we would be making the trip for a much different, much harder reason.

My daughter’s spring break was around the corner.  It was important to get her up to Ky to say good-bye one last time.  The day her break began, we jumped in the car and made the drive back to Ky.  We arrived at my aunt’s house at close to 9 pm.  Mom was not awake and possibly not conscious.  We went in to see her.  She stirred a bit as though acknowledging our presence and the presence of my daughter.  We then left to settle in for the night at my sister’s house.

Several hours later, we got the call we were dreading.  The end was coming and it was a matter of hours.  My brother, sister, and I along with my aunt’s and uncle went to be by her side.  As difficult as this was to endure, I cannot tell you how blessed I felt to be able to hold her hand in an effort to comfort her as she crossed. She was not afraid of death. She knew where she was going and who was waiting for her to arrive.

DSC_0189_2Several months later, I had the most amazing and comforting dream. I dreamed that she was with my father (who passed away in 1989). They were standing together, hand in hand. They were dressed up, him in a suit and her in a light blue pretty dress that was cinched at the waist with a floating skirt (kind of like what June Cleaver use to wear).  Anyway, they were together holding hands and very happy.  They were standing in my doorway, with the most warming light completely surrounding them.  My mother summoned me to her to tell me it was time they left and where they were going was the most magnificent place I could ever imagine.

When I woke from that dream, I felt a sense of comfort I had never felt before. Later that day I realized there was even greater significance because it was my parent’s wedding anniversary. Not only kept her promised, but God allowed me to see my parents together again for the first time in over 20 years.

Now I still miss my mother dearly.  There is often not a day that goes by that I don’t think about her and wonder what she would think about this or that situation that I come across.  Most days, I can think of her with a smile or a laugh unless I am spending time writing about my loss of her (like now), in which I am crying like a baby.

Since my dream, I have done a lot of research on death, dying, and dreams.  One thing I found that provides the most comfort is that our deceased loved ones can sometimes visit and communicate with us in our dreams as we sleep.  There are many, many opinions on this subject.  To me, the only thing that matters is my mother made one last promise and was damned sure he was going to keep it.  Even in death, she kept her strength of character.

As I sit and reflect about my time with her.  The impact she had on my life is unmeasurable. Though she is no longer part of this world, a potion of my heart belongs to her.  As long as I can remember her, the home we created can be anywhere I desire because home and heart cannot be separated by time or plac








Kansas Isn’t Where I Left It

Looking for any feedback to help me as I develop my writing skills. All comments, good and bad, are welcome.

Zany Traveler

Hilton HonorsMost people that know me know that I am a creature of habit, almost to the point of being somewhat obsessive about certain things.  One of those things is the hotels I stay at when I’m on the road. This is for two reasons. One being the points and rewards offered by the hotel groups and the other relates to the consistency and “perceived” cleanliness from hotel to hotel.  There is one brand that I try to stay at every week, if possible.  When not, I will choose another brand in the group.  I am in a different hotel at least weekly. Some weeks (like this week) I’m hitting three different hotels in less than five days.

There have been more than a couple of times when I get my room number confused with a different hotel on a different day. More often than not, this tends to happen at my…

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Kansas Isn’t Where I Left It

Hilton HonorsMost people that know me know that I am a creature of habit, almost to the point of being somewhat obsessive about certain things.  One of those things is the hotels I stay at when I’m on the road. This is for two reasons. One being the points and rewards offered by the hotel groups and the other relates to the consistency and “perceived” cleanliness from hotel to hotel.  There is one brand that I try to stay at every week, if possible.  When not, I will choose another brand in the group.  I am in a different hotel at least weekly. Some weeks (like this week) I’m hitting three different hotels in less than five days.

There have been more than a couple of times when I get my room number confused with a different hotel on a different day. More often than not, this tends to happen at my preferred brand simply because all of the hotels are set up and decorated similarly.  When this happens I will simply go to the desk and ask the clerk to remind me of my room number and/or give me a new key. I’m sure the young lad or lass thinks I’m nuts not to be able to remember my room, but who cares.
There are certain security procedures that the clerk should follow to make sure you are getting into the right room. The most important of which is asking for a photo ID.  I never paid much attention to the necessity of this requirement, often thinking what a hassle. That is, until I asked for a key to the wrong room.
Hotel HallwayThis happened at a hotel that I had actually stayed at several times. The previous week I was there but the room number was slightly different than the room I was currently assigned to (i.e.  312 vs 321).  It was mid week and I had already been in my room on this particular evening.  After work, I came in, changed clothes, and went out to dinner.  I came back and went to what I thought was my room.  I put my key-card in the slot – nothing happened.  I tried this several times getting the same result.  I figured I had demagnetized the key with my cell phone since this seems to happen at least once a week. (Why hasn’t someone figured out how to create a card that can’t be demagnetized by a cell phone)?
Anyway, I growled under my breath  because of the pain of going back to the desk to get a new card. I mean this really is a pain in the butt not to mention the lecture I get from the clerk occasionally!!  Well, I get to the desk and wait in line for what seems like an eternity. I tell the clerk my room number and she simply hands me a key. No questions asked!!!  I know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth, so I take the key and leave. I go back up to what I thought was my room and use the key-card to enter the room.
FeetI walk in and immediately realize this was not my room. I was flabbergasted. What I saw were two pairs of feet (attached to unclothed legs) sticking out of the end of the bed. I won’t go into further details about what I saw, but the feet were quite active.
I turned around and ran, slamming the door behind me. If they didn’t hear me when i came in, I know they heard me when I left because the door slammed hard enough to shake the walls.  Considering what they were up to, I’m don’t think they cared.
I went back to the front desk laughing so hard I could hardly walk.  When I told the clerk what happened and to please check my room number, she asked how was I so sure that wasn’t my room.  To which I replied, “well, when I went out to dinner I was pretty sure I didn’t leave two pairs of feet in my bed”.
Needless to say I always give my ID when I need a key regardless AND I always lock my door in case there is another “Joyce” staying in the same hotel.  How unfortunate would that be!!!Hotel Lobby

The Virtual Hangover – DWI – Dreaming While Intoxicated

Before I begin, let me state emphatically that I am not a drinker nor do I take drugs stronger than those prescribed by my doctor.

I have some of the most amazing dreams.  Always have and hope that I always will.  My dreams have spanned the gamut of totally insane, to solving every day dilemmas, to humorous, etc.  There are also many dreams that involve my friends and family that have passed on.  There are some days where I can remember my dreams more than others.  I have found that if I stop and reflect on my dreams immediately upon waking in the morning, the dream and its rich details are often cemented in my memory.

The Plane of Dreams

Our dreams lie of a vast plane in our minds and triggered by our senses as we sleep.

Several nights ago, my dreams had a much stronger side effect.  In my dream, I was back in college sitting in an English Lit class, I believe.  I was sitting in the back of the room, when for some reason, I chose to move to a different seat.  The seat I chose was next to two very handsome but troubled young men.  After I sat down, the man in the desk right in front of me asked me to hand him the bag of beer sitting beneath my desk.  I reached down and picked up the plastic grocery bag that contained about four glass bottles of some type of beer.

When I handed my classmate the bag of beer, he turned around and offered me a joint.  It was a tightly rolled cigarette looking object but filled with pot.  I strongly refused multiple times but I was thinking how interesting it would be to smoke it just to see the effects.  The man kept offering and I kept refusing thinking that he was probably a cop and I would get arrested.  He then offered a beer, which I accepted.  We toasted to some strange thing pertaining to English Literature and the dream ended.

The life of a traveler can be found on "cloud nine".  I just wish someone would tell me how to get there.  I keep getting lost.

The life of a traveler can be found on “cloud nine”.  I just wish someone would tell me how to get there. I keep getting lost.

The next thing I remember is my alarm going off. I rolled over to turn it off.  I lay in the bed thinking about my dream and realized how awful I felt.  My head felt like there was a war going on inside and my stomach was wrenching.  It has been over ten years since I had a hangover, but I swear this is exactly like what it felt like.

Is it possible to have a dream so realistic that it can cause physical side effects like hangover symptoms?  I am not sure what the scientific answer is, but on that particular morning I came to believe that it was possible that I had indeed experienced a virtual hangover that was the result of dreaming while intoxicated.  Go figure.

An Interesting Ride….1933 Plymouth Coupe….The Making of a Dream

Zany Traveler

Everyone has a dream —to retire wealthy, to meet someone famous, to spend the summer backpacking across Europe…  I could go on and on.  Some of these dreams are realistic whileothers are morThe Bodye for our fantasies.  My husband is not unlike everyone else; he has a dream.  His dream is to build a 1933 Plymouth Coupe from the ground up.  I’m not really sure how this dream came about.  It has been his dream longer than we have been together.  In fact, before we ever met, he had started working on his dream by purchasing the frame and body from a  man in Georgetown, Indiana.

From hearing him talk, he worked on the frame here and there through the years.  In my mind this is considered “tinkering”, but say that around him and he gets quite offended.  (Anyway, this is my blog so we will use my terminology –LOL). …

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