Remembering Childhood Crushes

It’s Valentine’s Day weekend coming up.  I have a whole bog about the cynicism  of that day but it probably won’t be well received.  I actually like Valentine’s Day–but I’ve hardly had one mainly because my ex was always deployed or gone around that time.  I still believe in romance and believe in its attainability and probably won’t be with anyone who thinks otherwise because that just means they don’t want to try.  I don’t like that.  But anyway something about Valentine’s Day always makes me think of childhood crushes.

I never had a boyfriend until I was in 11th grade.  I thought I was a pretty girl but I was socially awkward and always tried too hard(I still am socially awkward in some settings).  Not to mention I was made fun of and bullied to some degree by people who will be nameless.

My first childhood crush was a boy named Kevin–my elementary friends may even remember.  He was a short kid in elementary and stayed a short kid through high school that I could remember.  But he was also a complete jerk to people and actually one of the people who bullied me in high school.  Probably won’t forget that either–we had the same Algebra class and it was my Sophomore year.  It was mandatory you had to have swimming–which totally sucked if you had it in the morning because that meant you were going to have crappy hair for the rest of the day.  And I had that 80’s perm—lets just say with my big old glasses and my poodle hair, I just looked fugly.  I knew it, but certainly didn’t need it pointed out by someone I had a crush on most of my life. Anyway, that class for me was torture and I fought back with my own set of words but was kind of hard when other followed his suit.  I don’t know where he is today–but Im betting he has a short mans complex.

But my favorite childhood crush is someone that lived in my neighborhood and whom I hung out with a lot during the summers during those critical middle school just starting high school years.  I won’t mention his name–he may read the blog since he is my Facebook friend–and a friend outside of Facebook.  In fact, he has helped me a lot as a friend outside of Facebook.  He lives far away—in a nice warm state and I certainly am appreciative of him.

But I remember moving into this subdivision and just a lot of kids.  I met my still long time friends Shelli and Deanna there.  And us–the three musketeers–reeked havoc on the neighborhood claiming the block we mostly hung out at as  the “second block” and all those people on that block were our people.  It just so happened for us girls that we were the only three girls and the rest were boys.  Lovely beautiful boys–you have no idea but I certainly think we had the hunks of Lockport Heights all around us–but one in particular always had my eye.

He was a blonde hair, blue eyed, bike riding with his shirt off god….I mean I seriously could never keep my eyes off him.  he went to a private school –so I was always so excited to get home from school and head outside–maybe everyone on the block would play tag, or Frisbee tag, or hang out or play football.  Yes, I loved to play football–and us girls didn’t mess around, or at least I didn’t.  Tackle football it was and believe me I was ready to get down and dirty with my blonde headed blue eyed hunk(should he read this he will laugh with embarrassment–but he knows).  Contact sports were my thing when he was around.  I made it a point to flirt as much as possible, dream about him as much as possible , listen to songs that reminded me of him as much as possible, ask him out as much as possible(well make my friends do it, in which he would never answer).  I think one time he said I had to ask him and not my friends and I just couldn’t do it.  I would have been devastated had he said no, even if he is the one who said I should ask–how was I to know it wasn’t just a joke for all the boys to laugh about.  I also made it point to try and talk to him some without everyone around and really get to know him–I memorized his phone number and cranked called him a gazillion times.  I still know that number to this day.  I was smitten for sure.  And then like all things do– things changed–I moved and everyone started moving.

I thought about him many times during my high school years–even right after I got married to my first husband.  I remember talking to an old friend and finding out where this guy worked and then one day I just showed up at his work.  I didn’t exactly say much and he was kind of a jerk–but then what did I really expect?  We hadn’t been around each other in years and hell I was married.  So, I went on with my life as he did his.  Fast forward year later when Facebook was invented.  AHHHH the world of Facebook is a great thing–I don’t care what ay of you haters think.  How else can I keep a hold of people on the daily that are important in my life.  But anyway, one day I found his brother on Facebook and I friend requested him–and then I found him.  And I friend requested him.  WE sent short messages to see how each other was doing and kept up with each other for many years.  I won’t lie–he still looks great to this day.  He really does.

So, a few months ago we started having conversations and he kind of guided me and helped me get through a really hard time I was going through.  I honestly could never  thank him enough.  I won’t lie–I still have this incredible amazing crush on him.  But I am at a point in my life that I’m afraid of many things.  I value his friendship–he’s heard me drunk on the phone, he’s talked me through some tears and we’ve laughed like no other many times.  And then shit got crazy here and I haven’t talked to him in weeks.  Here I am the girl that had this HUGE HUGE childhood crush talking to her and giving a shit and guess what I’m not even ready for it.

It almost sounds like a damn Nicolas Sparks book yanno??  I just hope he knows- and I think he does—how incredibly appreciative of him I am.  I am just a shit friend right now.  And I conjured up in my head how I’m not ready and he doesn’t live close and then I got a head of myself and was like he was just being a friend anyway–I mean who exactly carried 25 year crushes in their head–I guess me– plus there is another equation I’m not all too ready to discuss.

But hey my life isn’t over and neither is his…stanger shit has happened and they write books about this stuff.

Fast forward to my life when I was 12 years old and I had a slumber party.  We played with a Ouija board that night.  None of us knew how to play the damn thing and we all thought the other person was moving it.  I know exactly who my partner was for the particular question I asked the Ouija board to answer to this day….

I asked it who I was going to marry someday—it spelt out the first name of my blonde hair, blue eyed, shirtless bike riding hunk.  And the name has stuck in my head since then–he is the only person I know by that name….

Sure—it could be bull–as most Ouija boards are….

But hey it sounded like a great idea at the time.  And secretly–it still does.

Happy Crushing!!!



The Dog, The Dog, The Dog is on Fire!!

I love to cook.  I really do.  I can bake like no other.  And if I didn’t have to cleanup all the mess, I’d probably do a whole lot more of it to be honest.  But tonight, I almost lit the dogs world up.  I mean she almost got lit on fire.

So imagine this….I’m casual cooking some fish in the over.  I grab a kitchen towel, instead of the oven  mitt.  I reach down to pull fish out of oven and I set it on  top of the stove top, when all of a sudden, I feel like a heat coming upwards.  I’m thinking I didn’t bunch towel up good enough and heat is coming through and I’m about to get burned.  So, I put down pan really quick to readjust the towel and that’s when I saw it.  The yellowish, orange dancing flames we call fire.

Now Bella is my yorkie that I have had for the last 7 years and to know her is to know she is up my proverbial ass no matter what I am doing.  And what I really mean by that or I should say especially includes when I’m in the kitchen because she is praying I drop her a tasty morsel.  So, there she was under my feet praying I’d drop her some food.  Only this time, I have the dancing orange and yellow flamed kitchen towel that is trying to grab hold of my clothes and catch me on fire!! So what do I instinctively do??  Yes, I drop towel…..only I drop it on my dog.  Here I am screaming at her to move and she is casual going about like the towel I’m dropping is a nice flank steak–damn dog!!  I almost had to stop, drop and roll her ass!!  Do you think she cared though.  No, she is just pissed that I didn’t drop her some food.

I’m calmed down now, but at the moment I was freaking out.  There was my shiny stay calm moment and guess what?  I panicked.  I seriously believe this is how I live my life anymore–In a constant state of panic to the point, I don’t even know the difference.  I always feel like I’m constantly “dropping the towel”.

Really, what I need to do is rise up like the flames and dance with their flow–I need to own my life.  Instead it owning me.

But how the hell did I just turn almost burning up my dog into a metaphor of life??

I was just trying to cook dinner….

I  don’t know–but it sounded like a good idea at the time.



And So Here I Go Again…

Ever have one of those days when your driving in your car and BAM….an idea comes into your head.  Well, that was me today as I traveled to a pharmacy that was out of my way and not in my “neck” of the woods. I can’t just help but keep going there–I firmly believe it was literally the only place I spent in that small town for ten years that made me feel welcomed.  But I digress, on way home started thinking about my life prior to me moving to Kentucky.  I used to lead such a full life.  I guess now, at 43, I live a life that is more up in the air.  I honestly just don’t know what to do on any giving day but like  all things this too shall pass and I will figure it out.

So, upon all my thinking I remembered I used to be an active blogger back in the day when blogging was something you did for fun and didn’t get paid for it.  Or at least I didn’t but I had tons of followers.  Seemed like everyone was interested in what a young Army wife of three young kids was up to or not up to, or just every day murphy’s law and shenanigans, which seemed to be so prevalent in my life and brought lots of laughter (after the initial frustration). (Damn that run on sentence).

So, I decided to blog again.  Maybe, I won’t get a single follower.  Maybe I’ll get a ton– but everyone is always telling me to write and what they don’t know is I do and have been for some time–I have a poetry journal and a picture journal.  They are private and I would never post details about them here.  They contain my deepest secrets and thoughts but this blog won’t be that.  After al,l the idea for my blog isn’t to tell every single detail about my life but to just relate to people.  We don’t always need to see all the details to relate to how someone feels inside and out.  But heck, if even one thing I write makes someone think, change their mind, or feel better as a person, well then so be it.  Because truthfully, I need an outlet in my life–a voice.  I can promise you the stories will be real, my thoughts will be real, and I will be 100% honest.  I can’t promise you that my thoughts will be profound, or witty, or even life changing—but hey I can try.  And while your reading please make no mistake–a blog is thoughts but it certainly isn’t someone whole entire life.  As always there are two sides to all stories and really it doesn’t need to be put all out there–my life is more than a blog.  But sometimes life needs a voice–mine does!

On way home , I had a ton ideas for blogs.  It’s going to be a lot of fun for me.  It’s going to be some good therapy as I try to navigate my new life.  I’ve had such a hard time and find most people just don’t understand or I lost friends because they don’t know how to relate.  Maybe I’ll lose some more, or maybe they will come back.  I don’t know.  Of course, I will always welcome feedback or comments and encourage it!!

All I do know is……it sounded like a really good idea at the time.