Evil Men Never Wear Black Hats

You may think I live on the pages of a book where you can shut me into darkness.  Or, do you think I live on the movie screen where you can simply close your eyes and I will disappear?  No.  Villains are everywhere. You may think you are safe from us in real life, but that is where we thrive, we villains, as we feed on the goodness and hard work of those around us.  Slowly slipping, sneaking, some might say into your life.  At work you do business with me and are forced to endure my torture every day.  Yet, I wear no black hat to signify where my loyalties lie.  At friendly social gatherings, I lurk in the crowd waiting for the chance to carry out my evil plot.  Yet, I have no sinister laugh to signal those that I meet to tell them who I am.  When I finally find you, caught off guard, in a dark alley, with no one to hear your screams, I will not stop to explain my motivation in killing you.  With a flick of this blade you’ll be dead.  Can you feel it? The cold steel of the knife is pressed against your throat, and you thought I was fiction. 

In real life I have freedom.  I look like your friend, the one that smiles to your face just before you feel the blade piercing into your back.  I’m your co-worker that takes credit for your work and spreads rumors about you while you’re at home sick.  I sued you for thousands of dollars you didn’t have, just to line my pockets with your money.  When you came to me with a problem I took advantage of you. I could pay you what I owe you, but I want to vacation instead.  I bullied your child and there was nothing you could do about it.   And then, I lured your loved one away from you to steal a small sliver of your happiness.  But, you’re not happy now are you?  And the best part is you never saw it coming.  You never saw the trap I set for you.  You never saw it, because I look like you, I look like me.  Can you feel life slip from your grasp as I tell you what I’ve done?  Can you taste the thick metallic feel of blood in your mouth?  You trusted me and now you’re dead. 

Happy Halloween!

Hug Your Skeleton

Why won’t you talk to me?  I may not be able to help, but I can listen.  And, I want to support you through this.  These are the frustrated ramblings of someone who is horribly flawed just like you and loves you anyway….

What did the doctors tell you?  Are you going to be alright?   I need to know.  I love you, please talk to me. 

How bad is it?  Are you going to loose the house? I need to know.  I love you, please talk to me.

You’ve never told anyone?  How did you survive that alone?  I love you, please talk to me.

You have imperfections in your life too don’t you?  I know I do.  Are there issues at work in your life that you try desperately to keep swept under the rug, so your friends won’t know how bad things really are at home?  Whether it’s unhappy relationships, bad news from the doctor, or bill collectors calling, you are not alone. Or, is there something in your past that you’re not very proud of doing?  None of us are perfect.  We all have them, lurking in corners, hidden under feigned perfection and self righteousness.  Skeletons.  So, if we all have them, why are we so ashamed of them?  Why can’t we talk about them?  I’m bringing out my skeletons and dusting them off for Halloween this year.  After all, how can we grow and appreciate our own crooked paths that brought us to where we are today without showing our skeletons some love.  Through all of our experiences, the good and the bad, we are reshaped and molded everyday into the people we will become.    And, it’s the adversity in life that strengthens our resolve to become something more than our circumstances, and makes us grow. 

Most of you know that I am writing a novel.  How interesting would my characters be if they did everything right all the time and had never made a bad decision?  Nobody would read that book.  It’s the struggle to claw your way back from the edge of disaster that makes you beautiful.  That’s what people want to see, want to read about, want to be a part of.  It’s the overcoming part of it all that makes you interesting, so embrace it! 

Overcoming illness

Overcoming debt

Overcoming bad decisions

Overcoming depression

If we had no skeletons, the success wouldn’t be nearly so sweet.  So, bring ‘em out, dust ‘em off and let’s talk about it; because, without your skeletons you wouldn’t be here.  Have you hugged your skeleton today? 

The Love List

I love to crawl into the warm Him shaped indention in the sheets in the early morning after he leaves for work.  That last 20 minutes is the best sleep I get all night.

I love it when he inserts my name into songs while he sings along with the radio in the car, off key and loud.  It makes me smile.

I love to listen to him read to our son at night, patiently reading the same Curious George story over and over and over.

I love that the first time he told me he loved me was by accident at the end of a phone call; and he still ends every phone call that way.

I love that we’ve broken each other’s hearts into a million pieces and mended them back again, stronger than before.

I love that he orders for me when we eat out, not because he’s controlling, but because he knows me that well.

I love that he does dirty, ugly things every day that he doesn’t want to do; but he does them anyway for the survival of our family.

I love it when he bakes bread in the middle of the night because he felt like eating some bread; and brings me some bread because he thought I might like eating some bread too.

I love that he dreams with me and supports me in my dreams, no matter how crazy they may sound.

I love to be held in his powerful arms, it makes me feel small, and fragile, and stronger than I am alone.

I love that he always offers to say the blessing before a nice meal, and he taught our son to say “Amen.”

I love it when he plays with my hair when I can’t sleep, while I talk nonstop and he pretends to listen.

I love to watch him chop fire wood, sweat glistening off thick muscles, wood splintering into the air, sunlight glinting off the smooth steel of the ax, all while I sip lemonade in the shade.

I love that he obsessively irons his clothes, even when on vacation.  It makes me laugh at my wrinkles.

I love to listen to him talk eloquently and passionately about zombies and politics and society and plans for our back yard makeover.  It reminds me of how intelligent and completely insane he is.

I love that we have entire conversations in movie quotes, and we know exactly what we’re saying.

I love that he took me rock climbing on our first date, even though I barely remember the rock we were climbing, that day will be burned into my memory for the rest of my life.

I love the beautifully ugly cake he baked me for my birthday.  The words on top looked like a child wrote them and I could taste the love he poured into it in every delicious bite.

I love that he never lets me say, “I can’t.”  And when I do, he gives me his half-time pep talk that always involves digging deeper for a larger set of balls, guts and glory. 

And, I love the beautiful future we’re going to have together when we finally run away from all responsibility, live in a thatched roof cottage, and become sheep herders.