The Tongue Twister

He talked so fast his tongue did lag.

Fell out of his mouth and on the ground behind him it dragged.

But still he kept blathering, his mouth frothing as he blabbered on…

I began to feel like I was a part of his game, albeit a mere pawn.

As he advanced towards his goal, and with each step he took,

I suddenly realized: I was in the presence of a crook!

But did he stop? No! Not even when

His tongue grew so long it started to curl back towards him again.

All slimy and twirling around his feet it did go.

Stumbling and tripping, but would he stop? No!

And then with a crash! And a boom! (What a farce!)

He kept right on going despite having fallen straight down on his arse.

But then it happened…even he had to regret

When his tongue wound so high, so tight, ’twas now a noose ’round his neck.

With his last lying breath, contorted there on the ground,

I wanted to help, but by his own lies he was now bound.

Once the words had come out he could not get them back in.

His endless verbal spewing had indeed got the best of him.

If only he had paused, took a breath, and just listened.

Considered, and pondered, and thought instead of insisted.

If he could have truly heard what others had to say,

Then maybe the Tongue Twister would not have ended up this way.

Her Ugly Boots

Cracked, patchy, leathery boots.

Painfully squeeeezing, shin-high boots.

Can’t rip them off, they’re tied too well.

Those horridly shocking, terrifyingly atrocious, plain ugly boots.

I wanted to rip them off her

It hurt to look at them

Those heavy, heart-breakingly ugly boots.

—july 2019

Snow? White?

A card from my sons after my first fitness competition 💛

Note to self: Quit assuming those of the same fairer sex have anything more in common with you than what’s visible on the outside.

Note to self, part deux: Quit letting the above fact irritate you—Like, I’m not kidding. Obviously, they can take a punch just as easily as you can give it, verbal or otherwise…why else would they have stepped in the ring with you, after all? 🙂

Some days all news is good news. Other days, it’s a toss up—just don’t toss it all out in the trash too soon.

Today I choose to end on the good, and applaud grown-up me on the ability to forgive, both the surely unintended dismissal/slight I felt I received from a professional in their field, as well as myself for allowing someone I care deeply for to be put in a hurtful/distressing situation.

We ALL deserve to be treated better.

On to bigger and better things—like tub baths, happy children, clean sheets, full bellies, and making progress on health reports—we should ALL be so lucky 🍀

Thankful each day for the choices we made.

The Fishermen

Me, circa 2012

Delayed gratification— also known as Fishing.

Fishing is indeed a form of Delayed Gratification in that you may fish all day & catch nothing, but you just keep trying. Or, you may try for years to catch The Big One only to have it break from the line & forever be The One That Got Away.

Even the act of fishing, itself, was something that our newly created little family delayed until my husband and I stumbled upon it once again, and found we were able to participate in a much more gratifying way than any time before.

Toddling Fishermen

My husband and I had been together for 10 years before he knew just how much i enjoyed fishing. He had seen me fish once when the boys were toddlers at an impromptu overnight camping trip. But I had been so worried about them either falling in, or hooking each other, that it was difficult to focus & fully participate. He did, however, catch a glimpse of my past love of fishing in those few moments when I did have my rod in hand, and he commented on how serene I looked.

As gratifying as those few moments were I knew how my rag tag bunch of troops operated, and felt that this family activity was definitely something best delayed for a later date.

“Look Daddy! Now what?!?”

Flash forward 3 years to a children’s fishing event at our community park during an annual festival. No longer a toddler, our oldest immedietly fell in love with the concept & I recognized how, for him, it was a chance to quiet the noise & find calm even in the crowd of kiddos & poles, searching for the perfect spot.

Fishing became his new favorite outdoor pass time & I was determined to help him find those moments of peace whenever we could. With new tackle, gear & license in hand the whole family set out to cast our cares away for an early summer morning down by the creek in our neighborhood.

Sitting on a rock ledge with the knee deep Texas grass around me & watching my line gently swaying in the stream, my husband took a picture of me, & I must say it does reflect a calmer version than most people ever see. After a few hours our youngest had had enough of the quiet, (and the outdoors). With the boys now fascinated by the release of the hook from the lip of the slippery, pokey creatures, we rounded everything up, each of us having caught a few tiny fish.

The Delayed Gratification approach to showing the boys more about fishing helped us to have a very gratifying family outting that morning, & opened the door to many more wonderful times since.

“Papa! I can catch fish, too!”

An interesting side note: when I was in college I dated a guy who chided me on what he felt was my lack of understanding of the concept of Delayed Gratification. He insisted I was constantly rushing things & needing to work on Delaying Gratification in order to get the best out of something, instead of settling for what he suggested was my “right here, right now, good enough approach.”

Looking back, and thinking about the concept of fishing and what it means to me & my little family, and how it was an old childhood activity of mine—patiently waiting for the right time & place to be able to grab the rod and box of worms—how for some of us it’s a salve for the soul, and how all good things come to those who wait, I realize now that THAT guy & I didn’t really know much about each other afterall. (And, obviously, we had never gone fishing!)

There She Was

The Bride

I have always loved Love & Love Stories.

Imagine my surprise when I actually got to be a part of one! Especially after not dating at all in high school, barely making it through the post-high school dating gauntlet unscathed, and finding that my mate (who happens to be 8 years older than me) had been in my hometown since that daunting aforementioned gauntlet even began.

Blind date, co-worker date, friend date, embarrassingly hard (and failed) attempt at reconnecting with a middle school crush date, parent/family friend arranged date—yup. All of these were no-go’s. It came as no surprise to me then when I suggested to a guy, slightly younger than myself (whom I previously couldn’t stand) that he should take me out on a date. Surprise! It worked and we clicked for a bit. Then, we didn’t. Enter a gallant, much older man (also someone I couldn’t stand initially). Again, it clicked until it didn’t.

And then there He was. Neither of us were free, but we both enjoyed similar things, life, and were able to just enjoy one another’s company (and our mutual friends’ company, too!)

At this point, I had been a bridesmaid twice, endured two pseudo-serious engagement inquiries, and had no idea I would eventually get to be a matron of honor at my younger sister’s wedding (another one of my favorite love tales).

But, I digress. My point is simply this: No one knows anything about anyone, and never truly will unless they actually ASK.

Case in point, He asked Me. I said yes. Here we are today…21 years since we first saw each other, 17 years since we started dating, and 15 years of marriage.

Whatever it is you are needing from someone, it never hurts to just Ask. Who knows? You may actually be pleasantly surprised by the answer you receive!

-dde 2019, attempting in earnest to live happily ever after with 3 children, 2 dogs, 1 cat, in-laws, family, friends, and all.

The End

To contact me see image below: