Slobber Straps

My strappy sandals sometimes sport slobber stains.  It’s true!!  I have a penchant to open my mouth and insert a size 8 sandal….no notice……no warning signs…..I just talk happily away…chit-chat-chit-chat until my words drop to the ground with a THUD….and then…..awkward silence…people look away….silence….and then I realize that I have done it again….a witty remark is born in my brain, gives birth through my lips and like a rebellious teenager, goes where I did not mean it to go. 

Such an instance happened a few weeks ago.  Someone casually asked me, “How’s Married Life???”  In an effort to be “real” and “wise” and “profound,” I said, “well you know the first year is always the hardest year, but we are having a great time……” The exact words are banished from my mind forever and replaced with the subtle taste of The Body Shop peppermint foot oil. 

What I meant to convey is that The Man and I are crazy happy, we’ve made it through the challenges of blending a family of six kids, navigated the land mines of raised toilet seats, schedules, dinner times, toothpaste brands and my endless collection of shoes beautifully displayed on the kitchen floor.  We made it!!  We still love each other---and like each other.  The challenges of the first year made us better communicators, better listeners and has given us a respect for each other’s feelings and opinions.  I could not imagine a better partner, a better friend and a better love than his. 

Blending a family is hard---good golly, it’s way harder than I imagined.  Teenagers like me---they have always liked me….but then again, they didn’t have to live with me.  I was always cool and fun (at least in my own mind) and offered wise words in a crisis.  Now, I sometimes look in the mirror to see if my leper’s spots have disappeared…… just sayin’.  Blending a life is hard---I am a morning person…..and The Man loves to sleep in……he loves his quiet time and my quiet time lasts about 30 seconds and then I am off to the chatty races.  But it works.  I have learned to keep my alligator mouth closed (to avoid the aforementioned peppermint taste) and to sometimes speak my mind with a confidence that only a trusting relationship can bring. 

This morning, I heard a song that I quoted in my marriage vows:

Stay with me

My love, I hope you'll always be

Right here by my side if ever I need you

Oh, my love

In your arms

I feel so safe and so secure

And everyday is such a perfect day to spend

Alone with you

I will follow you, will you follow me?

All the days and nights that we know will be

I will stay with you, will you stay with me?

Just one single tear in each passing year

With the dark

Oh, I see so very clearly now

All my fears are drifting by me

So slowly now, fading away

I can say

The night is long but you are here

Close at hand, oh, I'm better for the smile you give

And while I live

I will follow you, will you follow me?

All the days and nights that we know will be

I will stay with you, will you stay with me?

Just one single tear in each passing year there will be

How lucky I am to have a partner whom I can follow and who follows me back!!!  Every day is a perfect day to spend with him!  If I could reel back in that question about married life, I would answer it like this:

How lucky I am to find a partner who is willing to play with me, who is wise, patient and loving, and who cares deeply about his family.  I have learned to be more generous, more understanding and more……ME!  What a blessing it is to be fully me, fully seen, and fully loved.  We have had so many adventures already:  trekking through Costa Rica over suspended bridges and down waterfalls—chatting with monkeys, frogs and sloths.  We have bet on the loser at the Kentucky Derby, been on live television for our picnic fare at the Indianapolis 500, and dressed up as 80’s rockers for Halloween.  We left no Brunello behind while tasting through Tuscany and have sailed almost to Canada on a small sailboat---Our list of adventures could go on for pages. 

Yesterday, we were married one year and one month----blending is still difficult at times, we still disagree on the proper way to eat chicken legs and our dysfunctions sometimes bump into each other…..but I am truly having the time of my life with the Clyde to my Bonnie!!

Hopefully, my sandals will be safe……at least for a while.  

Introducing HRH, The Princess of Argyle

Introducing……..HRH, The Princess of Argyle.

Imagine if you would a little girl in a sparkly pink dress with layers of ruffles underneath. Her long blond hair is in ringlets with pink, silver, and white ribbons intertwined. Her tiny fingernails are painted a delicate pink with a smattering of glitter. She twirls sparklers and ribbons and sometimes big golden pinwheels. The Princess giggles incessantly and skips from place to place in her white patent leather shoes with frilly white socks (pre-labor day, of course).

Despite her frills and her sparkly frocks, the Princess desperately longs for adventure - to be found worthy - to be important. She wants to play an important part in the world - to offer hope and beauty - to console the suffering - to rescue puppies and kitties.

Not content to stand still and look pretty, the Princess has been known to pull on her daddy’s boots, slip on a piece of armor, and wield his heavy sword in mock battle. She dreams of the day when she can defend the family honor…..save the day…..and be seen as worthy just like her boy cousins.

Life goes on and she learns to use his shield - mostly to protect her heart….to hide the fact that she is shaking in her boots when conflict comes. Large shields are adept at hiding hot tears from her attackers. She learns that the sword can gives her power - power to be brave….to be heard….to be in control - but that sword can also pierce the hearts of others with wounds that sometimes never heal.

This Princess - this little girl lives inside of me. There are times when like Cinderella, she had worn rags and dreamed of better days and there are times where she has shined in all her glory. Sometimes I get protective and don’t let her shine - using the shield to hide her sensitive heart. Sometimes, I pull my daddy’s boots on, grab his shield and the sword so heavy I am not sure I can wield it…….saying…..be brave…..show your worth……show you are worth something….that losing you is painful……and I fight with all my might. I hold down my princess-heart emotions, refuse to see the heart of my opponent and be valiant.
Oh I talk a good game – I act brave and seem to approach things head on…..but deep down inside, I am still a little girl in a pink dress wearing her daddy’s too big boots and armor wielding a sword with all her might to valiantly protect herself from an evil king saying, “you’ll never beat me” all the while wishing someone would come riding up on a big horse, rescue her, and put her safely in the castle with a glass of milk and some cookies. This little girl longs to be brave, to prove that she is worthy…….but if she stops for a second, she will simply just break down and cry.

There is a song by a 90’s Christian group called Small Town Poets with a line that says, “If you let me love you, we’ll sit here and cry.” Sometimes that is all I want……

Can that happen?? Can I be brave and un-brave?? Can I be adventurous yet fragile? Can I protect and allow myself to be protected? It’s complicated……..but that’s why I am a Princess.

Picnic Fame

My love affair with the picnic began when I was a small child, when we would make pimento cheese sandwiches and cookies, throw them in the ice chest with some cokes and head to the lake for the day. Later, as an adult, I was introduced to a whole new level of picnicking at Symphony on the Prairie…..what I affectionately call frou-frou picnicking….with real wine glasses, serving bowls, cloth napkins, candles, cheese boards, and a beautiful spread. I adopted the practice of frou-frou picnicking with gusto….developing my own picnic style….finding accessories along the way….baskets, cheeseboards, wineglass holders for the lawn….

Last year, the Man and I decided to take our frou-frou picnic to the infield of the Indy 500. I had always sat in the stands for the race, but was intrigued with the idea of a day-long picnic watching pretty cars go by at 200 miles per hour. Now the Indianapolis Motor Speedway doesn’t allow glass containers, so we had to get a bit creative. I tend to be a *bit* of a wine snob, so boxed wine was out of the question. The Man and I wandered up and down the liquor aisle until we found it…..a box of pre-made margaritas. It was small enough to put into my small cooler so we were set!! We put my pink-striped tablecloth in the picnic basket, along with my amber polypropylene margarita glasses and a deck of cards and created our picnic fare. We cubed gouda and cotswolds cheeses, stirred up some fresh guacamole, rolled up roast beef and cheese pinwheels, and made our famous Tunisian Cous-Cous Salad. Since it was quite toasty outside, for dessert we made a fruit salad with strawberries, Marscapone cheese, and walnuts. It was a feast fit for a king!!!

At the track, we found the perfect picnic spot halfway up the berm on Turn 3. We spread out the pink tablecloth (please don’t judge him for the pink…..he was just makin’ me happy!), arranged our fest just so, and poured ourselves margaritas. Life is good!!! A voice behind me shouted, “are those champagne glasses?”

Read the rest of the post on recipe lion:  http://blog.recipelion.com/guest-post-picnic-fame-from-becky-p-divorced-diva/

Friendship is a Journey

The Man and I went home to the great state of Arkansas, the Natural State, the Land of Opportunity, Hawg Country, the state that holds all of my childhood memories in her hands. Both of our trips to my childhood home have been short and I have had to pack every memory I want to share with him into a scant few days...going to Lake Ouachitia (via boat and via meandering raft), wandering the farms of my grandparents, and eating my favorite Arkansas Cuisine (Stubby’s Barbeque and Catfish from Cajun Broiler). On this trip, we planned a visit to Petit Jean Mountain (subject of a previous blog about needing adventure). Petit Jean has a stunning view of the Arkansas River Valley were one can see for miles. Petit Jean also has a stunning hike to a waterfall, Cedar Falls. http://www.petitjeanstatepark.com/things_to_do/trails/cedar_falls.aspx

It was a beautiful day - not too hot and not too humid. The Man, my little Chickadee, my Mama and I embarked down the trail. Now, I say the words trail with a bit of hesitation as there were times when the “trail” was simply a stretch of large rocks to navigate, creeks to cross, and boulders to go around. Here in Indiana, if there is a sign that warns wannabe hikers that the trail is strenuous, you know that it has a bit of a hill grade. This trail, however, took strenuous to a new level!!! The Man at one point thought that Chickadee and I were out of our minds when we took shortcuts down the side of the mountain…..but I was home and I was happy!!

As we hiked down the mountain (and pondered our hike back UP said mountain), we kept an eye out for each other...stopping to give a hand to ensure no one slipped and looking for the best way to navigate large rocks, muddy trails and steep inclines. Sometimes Chickadee would lead, sometimes Mama would lead and sometimes the Man and I would lead chit-chatting along the way. Occasionally, one of us would go their own way for a bit (I just had to cross the creek instead of taking the rickety bridge across) and we would meet up again. We warned each other of impending danger...watch that poison ivy! Don’t put your hand between the rocks when you go down!! There might be snakes!!...and we took pictures at every opportunity.

From time to time, a woman would stop me and inquire about my choice of hiking attire. I had on a cute pair of black shorts, my Josef Seibel leather sandals (they are soooo cute and practical as they have excellent grips on the bottom and flexion - I wore them through Greece and Turkey) and carried my cute leather clutch from ReFind (a girl needs her purse). Now, being an experienced hiker, I understand the principles of good hiking shoes/socks/gear and am not in any way advocating unsafe behavior, however, I have hiked up Vesuvio in Naples watching Italian women going up the side of the volcano in short skits and stilettos…even the elderly women were wearing heels….but I digress. It gave Chickadee great pleasure to watch these sweet mother hens clucking away at my poor choice of attire, reminding her of all the times I fussed at her for shoe choices (although I still maintain that plastic flip-flops are shower shoes and should only be worn in the most casual of situations)….. Chickadee smiled her brilliant smile knowing that her mother is definitely, “one of a kind.”

What I enjoyed most about our outing was the ease of our interactions. We accepted each other as we were--limitations and all. We helped one another without judgment and offers of help were gladly accepted. When The Man presented his hand to help me up a rock, it was gladly received even though I am quite capable of scaling up the side of a rock. When Chickadee and I had different approaches to navigating the boulders to get under the waterfall, we allowed each other space to do so while keeping an eye out for danger. That’s what friendship is all about….being fellow hikers on the journey of life. Friendship is about allowing the other to take their own path (even though it may be different for a moment) and still helping them out (even if their path turned out to be a mistake). Sometimes in friendship, you get to stand underneath a waterfall and enjoy the majesty and beauty of it all and sometimes it’s the hard work of climbing to the top over rocks and trees and steep, slick paths. Our destination was the waterfall, but our journey did not stop there.  We had to do the hard work of going back up. It would have been nice to set up camp at the waterfall...to stay in that place of beauty forever…..but we had to keep moving….had to get back on the daily trail of life (and of course, look for our next adventure).

When I got divorced, I realized how important friendships are. I changed zip codes and began to rebuild my life...a life full of beauty and adventure, of being seen and being known, of new friendships and new horizons. The friendships I made are invaluable to me…but to make those friendships, I had to allow myself to be open to new people and face my own fear of being rejected by them. It is only in openness that friendships can grow. My girlfriends (and guyfriends) have helped me to soar to heights unimaginable three years ago.

So Here’s To the Journey!!! The journey is what it is all about.

Rescue Me....Nah!!

Growing up in Arkansas, I was enthralled with the story of Petit Jean Mountain - - of how the mountain got its name. Grandma had an old Arkansas history book on her bookshelf and on those hot, muggy summer days, I would pull out the book and read the story over and over again.

There was a French nobleman, Chavet, who gained permission from the king to explore the new world in the 1700’s in order to stake a claim to the land for himself. Chavet was engaged to a young woman named Adrienne Dumont (who is a kindred spirit!!). When Chavet told Adrienne he was off on this new adventure, Adrienne asked that they be married immediately so she could go with him. Worried about her safety and comfort, Chavet told her that he wanted to check out the New World first and if it was safe, they would come back together and be married in the New World.

So……Adrienne cut her hair, dressed up as a boy and gained employment on her fiancée’s ship as a cabin boy. She gave herself the name of Jean. Jean soon won over the hearts of the shiphands with his(her) sunny disposition and they affectionately called him(her) petit Jean.

The ship traveled up the Mississippi and up the Arkansas River to the foot of the mountain. Native Americans met the ship and welcomed the visitors. They invited them to stay atop the beautiful mountain all summer long. The Native Americans fell in love with petit Jean with his(her) spirit and joy for life.

At the end of summer, the ship was preparing to depart for France. The night before departure, petit Jean fell ill. His(her) body was wrecked with fever, convulsions, and sometimes delirium. Jean’s true identity was discovered and she begged for Chavet’s forgiveness. The departure was delayed and the nobleman, shiphands, and Native Americans did everything they could do to help Adrienne, but her sickness became more and more grave. Adrienne asked to go to the top of the mountain where she liked to sit and look over the river. The Native Americans built a stretcher out of deerskins and bore her to the top - to her favorite place. She died at sundown. Her grave still sits in my favorite place on the mountain. As a kid, I loved to sit there on top of the rocks and look over the whole world.



Adventure……..love……importance…..joy…..these are things that stir my heart. Female characters such as Eowyn, Cora in Last of the Mohicans, Sacagawea, Queen Elizabeth inspired me - - they were both beautiful, capable and oh so wonderful.

When I was young, I wanted to either marry Bo Duke (sigh), Tarzan (Johnny Weissmuller of course) or Little Joe Cartwright (yes, it’s true). I wanted a part in their great adventure……in their life….in their family. Every day seemed to bring great adventure. I would practice my skills climbing trees, swinging from branch to branch…..rolling down the car windows and jumping through them….moving cattle from one place to another. As a teenager, I learned to drive on an old dirt road and loved nothing more than to fishtail up a hill in my Ford Galaxy 500 pretending that getting up that hill in lightning speed was of the utmost importance (sorry Dad!).

Where did that girl go?? I think I lost her for a while…..but she’s baaack!!!

The X and I had a different sort of relationship. I would characterize it as more of the Desi/Lucy show. I would get myself in all sorts of mischief and complicated situations and the X would enter the scene and in frustration and exasperation, holler “Lucy!!!.” (I think he actually did use that name from time to time)….. He would come home, flour all over the kitchen from the food processor……..animals would be out……paint would be in my hair….whatever. I would look a bit sheepish and apologize……bat my eyes and promise to do better and he would forgive me…..roll his eyes at my tendency for the complicated…..and know that I would never change. The X came to my rescue many, many times from my adventures……

BUT……looking at my life now….do I really WANT to be rescued?? Really?? Do I want a man who will come running in and save me at the last minute (while I am kicking myself for getting in this predicament….again)?? Really??

What I want is not a rescuer - - I want a partner in crime…..someone to have my back while we storm the gates of hell with a water pistol…..someone whose eyes will brighten at a crazy idea and say, “let’s do it…” I want someone who will declare at 11:00 at night that he really wants to cook some wonderful creation with our bounty from the garden…..right now!! Someone who will listen to the sounds of my heart…the desires of my heart and not think they are silly or unattainable. I want adventure----even in the mundane.

Rescue me?? Nah…..let's get out of our predicaments together!

Women Need a Little Adventure

April and May have been the months for adventure for me. I have been to California Wine Country, the Kentucky Derby and festivities for the Indy 500. This past month has been full of friends and good times….. exploration….discovery……not of some deep truth within myself……but discovery of fun…adventure…..new things.

It is so easy to get bogged down in the every day….in the commonplace……and sometimes I think we need to change things up a bit for a fresh perspective or to simply hit the Reset Button.

Women need adventure. To rephrase a concept from Stasi Eldridge’s book, Captivating - women need to feel like Pocahontas leading Lewis and Clark on a great adventure. Now, I am not saying that we all need to go camping or travel in a canoe for months on end. What I am saying is that we need to do things out of the ordinary…..explore (whether it be a new country or simply a new restaurant in town….or heck…even a new nail polish color). We need to get beyond ourselves for a moment (or a week) and get our heart pumping with excitement - - to rediscover laughter. Life gets just too serious sometimes.

As I write this, I am eagerly anticipating my day with The Man. We are going on a bike ride together on a beautiful, sunny Saturday. It’s a little mini-adventure…..a time to get away from the “usual” and do something a little different…..to build a memory.

Make some time to do something different - even just for a day. Trust me…..it’s worth the effort!!