I tend to write in a memoir style over here. I admire the bloggers out there that dabble in fiction. It takes dedication and imagination. I have one of those things, but not the other.
So, in honor of Valentine’s Day, I thought I’d share with you all a rare treat. Today, friends, I am going to publish my first ever short story of fiction. And by short, I mean really short. I can’t stress enough just how short it is.
Disclaimer: When I said “rare treat”, I may have been a little cocky. Those words just went nicely together. They in no way represent what you’re about to read.
Second Disclaimer: I’m sorry for what you’re about to read.
Bad Romance – by Steenky Bee
He looked at me, tears in his eyes and said, “Maybe we should just be friends.”
Shocked, I gathered my fist up to my heart and begged him to reconsider. “Please, oh, please! Don’t take this all away.” I sheepishly tilted my head and looked at him coyly from the side, “Maybe we should be friends with benefits.”
His face broke free from its rigid lines of determination. “What do you mean?” he countered looking confused. I could tell he was becoming increasingly intrigued.
I batted my eyelashes at him and whispered, “I thought we could be friends, but you could pay for my health insurance. With dental. Don’t cheap out on me now, sailor.”
{The end.}
This post was thrown up here today as participation in the ever so lovely Sprite’s Keeper and her Spin Cycle on all things Valentine's Day. If you aren’t part of it, you should be.
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
February 11, 2010
February 11, 2009
Love Lessons: We Think We Are So Much Smarter Than We Actually Are
The other day Jeremy and I were having our annual in-office romantic lunch. I had the Beef-n-Cheddar, while he opted for the more traditional Regular Roast Beef. Why was it romantic, you ask? Because there were curly fries, that’s why.
After looking longingly into each other’s eyes while we playfully wiped Arby’s sauce off of each other’s chin, we decided to surf the web together at my desk for a few minutes. A headline on the Yahoo! home page immediately caught my attention. It read: 10 Must-Avoid Spots on Valentine's Day. Or so we thought. In reality, it actually read: 10 Must-Avoid Spots for SINGLES on Valentine's Day. Very different.
Before realizing our mistake, Jeremy immediately shouted out “Strip club! You shouldn’t go to a strip club!”
Maybe he shouted it out a little too loud, because moments later several of our co-workers, all male btw, were huddled around my desk wondering what was going on. Jeremy assured them that there was no strip club emergency at this time and he was sorry to send out a false alarm.
This worried me. Is there some sort of guy-code in our office about strip clubs? If one of the men shouts out "Strip club!", does that mean that a trip to one of these establishments is imminent? Or does it mean that when a man blurts out those two words that he has a strip club story to tell? And really, couldn’t they have thought of a signal that is a little more subtle? I mean, when us women in the office have a good tale to tell, you don’t here us shouting “Three-way with members of the University of Utah's men’s swimming team!” Well, not anymore. That woman quit a few years back. I’m just sayin’.
Back to the list. As Jeremy and I read down the list that we thought was of the 10 places that you should not go on Valentine’s Day, we were perplexed as to why bed and breakfast joints, candlelit restaurants, cozy ski lodges and gourmet chocolate shops would make the top ten.
Eventually, as we usually do, Jeremy and I figured out our misread of the headline. We then spent the next ten or so minutes trying to convince the other one that we knew all along that the list was geared toward single people and that we were just going along with the joke for the other’s benefit. (Folks, you should know that we do this a lot. It’s our foundation for a strong marriage. In our relationship, love means never having to say your sorry…just so long as you can convince the other person that you were being wrong on purpose.)
Jeremy and I then thought it might be helpful to produce our own list of sorts. The 10 Must-Avoid Spots for Married Men on Valentine’s Day. You’re welcome.
1. Sizzler (Avoid the all you can eat and unflattering lighting trap.)
2. Strip clubs (Liberal use of glitter, and again, unflattering lighting.)
3. Your secretary’s house (Needs no explanation.)
4. Your mom’s house (Why would you?)
5. Free clinic (Again, why?)
6. Emergency room (Neither to just “hang out” as a place to meet women nor as the result of injury sustained when your wife catches you at secretary’s house. See # 3.)
7. Greeting card section of any retail store. (Because you shouldn’t have waiting so long to pick out a card for your wife, that’s why. I always make it a habit to run to Target or Wal-Mart on Valentine’s Day so I can give dirty looks to all the men scavenging the already picked over Valentine’s Day card section. How could you wait so long? I do this on Mother’s Day and Father’s Day as well.)
8.Tattoo parlor (Love doesn’t always last forever, but ink does. The wise man would opt for the less permanent piercing.)
9. Sizzler (I guess I just can't stress this one enough.)
10. Jail* (No explanation necessary.)
*As with virtually everything that is written here at Steenky Bee, not all advice should be taken to heart. These are only guidelines, mere suggestions. My roommate in college had a brother, a perfectly nice guy, who met his future third wife, a booking officer, as he served a 24-hour stint in County Jail on Valentine’s Day. (I said he was nice, I never said he was a lawfully abiding citizen.) They were happily married for well over a year. This guy then went on to meet his fourth wife at a family dinner. She was the cashier at Sizzler. True story.
This post brought to you as part of Sprite's Keeper's Spin Cycle. This week's topic: L-O-V-E.
After looking longingly into each other’s eyes while we playfully wiped Arby’s sauce off of each other’s chin, we decided to surf the web together at my desk for a few minutes. A headline on the Yahoo! home page immediately caught my attention. It read: 10 Must-Avoid Spots on Valentine's Day. Or so we thought. In reality, it actually read: 10 Must-Avoid Spots for SINGLES on Valentine's Day. Very different.
Before realizing our mistake, Jeremy immediately shouted out “Strip club! You shouldn’t go to a strip club!”
Maybe he shouted it out a little too loud, because moments later several of our co-workers, all male btw, were huddled around my desk wondering what was going on. Jeremy assured them that there was no strip club emergency at this time and he was sorry to send out a false alarm.
This worried me. Is there some sort of guy-code in our office about strip clubs? If one of the men shouts out "Strip club!", does that mean that a trip to one of these establishments is imminent? Or does it mean that when a man blurts out those two words that he has a strip club story to tell? And really, couldn’t they have thought of a signal that is a little more subtle? I mean, when us women in the office have a good tale to tell, you don’t here us shouting “Three-way with members of the University of Utah's men’s swimming team!” Well, not anymore. That woman quit a few years back. I’m just sayin’.
Back to the list. As Jeremy and I read down the list that we thought was of the 10 places that you should not go on Valentine’s Day, we were perplexed as to why bed and breakfast joints, candlelit restaurants, cozy ski lodges and gourmet chocolate shops would make the top ten.
Eventually, as we usually do, Jeremy and I figured out our misread of the headline. We then spent the next ten or so minutes trying to convince the other one that we knew all along that the list was geared toward single people and that we were just going along with the joke for the other’s benefit. (Folks, you should know that we do this a lot. It’s our foundation for a strong marriage. In our relationship, love means never having to say your sorry…just so long as you can convince the other person that you were being wrong on purpose.)
Jeremy and I then thought it might be helpful to produce our own list of sorts. The 10 Must-Avoid Spots for Married Men on Valentine’s Day. You’re welcome.
1. Sizzler (Avoid the all you can eat and unflattering lighting trap.)
2. Strip clubs (Liberal use of glitter, and again, unflattering lighting.)
3. Your secretary’s house (Needs no explanation.)
4. Your mom’s house (Why would you?)
5. Free clinic (Again, why?)
6. Emergency room (Neither to just “hang out” as a place to meet women nor as the result of injury sustained when your wife catches you at secretary’s house. See # 3.)
7. Greeting card section of any retail store. (Because you shouldn’t have waiting so long to pick out a card for your wife, that’s why. I always make it a habit to run to Target or Wal-Mart on Valentine’s Day so I can give dirty looks to all the men scavenging the already picked over Valentine’s Day card section. How could you wait so long? I do this on Mother’s Day and Father’s Day as well.)
8.Tattoo parlor (Love doesn’t always last forever, but ink does. The wise man would opt for the less permanent piercing.)
9. Sizzler (I guess I just can't stress this one enough.)
10. Jail* (No explanation necessary.)
*As with virtually everything that is written here at Steenky Bee, not all advice should be taken to heart. These are only guidelines, mere suggestions. My roommate in college had a brother, a perfectly nice guy, who met his future third wife, a booking officer, as he served a 24-hour stint in County Jail on Valentine’s Day. (I said he was nice, I never said he was a lawfully abiding citizen.) They were happily married for well over a year. This guy then went on to meet his fourth wife at a family dinner. She was the cashier at Sizzler. True story.
This post brought to you as part of Sprite's Keeper's Spin Cycle. This week's topic: L-O-V-E.
August 11, 2008
Hella Good
Recently, the newly famous blogger Black Hockey Jesus asked his readers if they had a best or worst memory that they associated with a particular song. When I read his question, I knew exactly the two songs that had a special meaning for me. I'll only go into one of those on this post today, because both songs represent my children. To group them into the same post just wouldn't do either of them justice.
The first song that has special meaning to me is No Doubt’s Hella Good, which in Utah I think you are required to pronounce as Hecka Good. I remember the first time I heard it. I was at work and a co-worker who sat directly behind me heard it come on the radio and cranked it up loud for us all to hear. We got up on our feet and danced. I loved it instantly. From then on, I would scour the radio dial on my commute in the hopes that I would hear it.
A month went by and I began hearing that song more and more. I was in the car more often then. It was during the spring and summer of 2003. Jeremy and I were driving two hours a day, ten days a month, to visit with an infertility expert. We had been trying to conceive for a few years and nothing was happening. During this time, we were in the middle of our many, many Artificial Insemination treatments. Some days Jeremy and I would get up before 4:00 am to get to the doctor before work to track my body’s schedule. Other days, we would leave work-mid day to perform the AI. Thankfully, both my doctor and employer were wonderfully flexible with our schedules.
It was those days when we scheduled the AI that I stressed the most, and understandably so. We only had a window of about 45 minutes to make what was regularly a 60 minute drive. So there we were, the three of us; me, Jeremy and his cup full of ’specimen’, weaving in and out of traffic listening to the radio and Gwen Stefani belt out that funky, groovy pop song. On the way to the doctor’s office, I usually had high spirits. To hear that song, gave me hope and promise. I would loudly sing along and soon, I knew every word. But those high times would only last a few weeks. Month after month, when my period arrived, my hopes were dashed and I was often inconsolable.
It was around mid September when I decided my body and my mind could take no more of those adrenaline filled dashes to the doctor. I had lost hope and a piece of my heart as well. I shut down and kind of unplugged myself from everything. I refused to listen to that song if it ever crossed my ears. If it came on the radio, I would immediately turn the dial. One time while while at the grocery store, it came on. I set my cart aside and walked out. It represented my body's failure to hold on to a pregnancy. It only reminded me of the stress I associated with all those doctor visits.
During the winter of 2004, Jeremy and I both agreed that it was more important to us to be parents than to be pregnant. We applied for adoption. Strangely enough, nine months later, Henry, our son, arrived via his beautiful birthmother, Bailey. Odd how things work out, isn't it?
Around Henry’s six month mark I began listening to a lot of music. His birthmom was a hip-hop dancer and it was evident that at six months he had inherited her rhythm and love of music. On one of my days home with Henry, I was holding him in the kitchen and dancing and singing to him along with the radio. Hella Good blared out of the speakers. On instinct I went to the radio dial to change the station, but before I made it there, I heard Henry squeal in delight and he began bouncing around in my arms. I watched him, amazed by how much he doesn’t look like me at all. He’s the spitting image of his birthmother. He has her big, blue eyes, her wide smile, her ski-jump nose. He has her hands and he even fiddles with them like I remembering her doing on those days we were with her before he was born. When Henry laughs, he often times makes the same breathy sound Bailey would make when she laughed.
So there I stood, looking at my son, his smile was bigger than I'd ever remembered and his little arms were flailing in the air to the music. It was in that moment that I fell in love with Hella Good all over again. From then on, that song would represent a wonderful time in my life that I had to experience. Now when I hear it, it takes me back to those early morning trips to the doctor and how they gave me and Jeremy time together as a couple. We'd talk about important things like our future plans and goals down to the little things like what movie we were hoping to see that weekend. I think we a little grew closer then. But mostly, when I hear Hella Good, I think of Henry and his birthmom, Bailey. I think about how lucky we are that she picked us out of all the other couples waiting to adopt. I think about the first time I saw him through the nursery window and how even though I didn't recognize him, my heart recognized him. And I think about all the times Henry has shaken his little groove thing to that song and shouted the lyrics as his ears hears them, "I'm gonna get that wood and I keep on dancin!"
The first song that has special meaning to me is No Doubt’s Hella Good, which in Utah I think you are required to pronounce as Hecka Good. I remember the first time I heard it. I was at work and a co-worker who sat directly behind me heard it come on the radio and cranked it up loud for us all to hear. We got up on our feet and danced. I loved it instantly. From then on, I would scour the radio dial on my commute in the hopes that I would hear it.
A month went by and I began hearing that song more and more. I was in the car more often then. It was during the spring and summer of 2003. Jeremy and I were driving two hours a day, ten days a month, to visit with an infertility expert. We had been trying to conceive for a few years and nothing was happening. During this time, we were in the middle of our many, many Artificial Insemination treatments. Some days Jeremy and I would get up before 4:00 am to get to the doctor before work to track my body’s schedule. Other days, we would leave work-mid day to perform the AI. Thankfully, both my doctor and employer were wonderfully flexible with our schedules.
It was those days when we scheduled the AI that I stressed the most, and understandably so. We only had a window of about 45 minutes to make what was regularly a 60 minute drive. So there we were, the three of us; me, Jeremy and his cup full of ’specimen’, weaving in and out of traffic listening to the radio and Gwen Stefani belt out that funky, groovy pop song. On the way to the doctor’s office, I usually had high spirits. To hear that song, gave me hope and promise. I would loudly sing along and soon, I knew every word. But those high times would only last a few weeks. Month after month, when my period arrived, my hopes were dashed and I was often inconsolable.
It was around mid September when I decided my body and my mind could take no more of those adrenaline filled dashes to the doctor. I had lost hope and a piece of my heart as well. I shut down and kind of unplugged myself from everything. I refused to listen to that song if it ever crossed my ears. If it came on the radio, I would immediately turn the dial. One time while while at the grocery store, it came on. I set my cart aside and walked out. It represented my body's failure to hold on to a pregnancy. It only reminded me of the stress I associated with all those doctor visits.
During the winter of 2004, Jeremy and I both agreed that it was more important to us to be parents than to be pregnant. We applied for adoption. Strangely enough, nine months later, Henry, our son, arrived via his beautiful birthmother, Bailey. Odd how things work out, isn't it?
Around Henry’s six month mark I began listening to a lot of music. His birthmom was a hip-hop dancer and it was evident that at six months he had inherited her rhythm and love of music. On one of my days home with Henry, I was holding him in the kitchen and dancing and singing to him along with the radio. Hella Good blared out of the speakers. On instinct I went to the radio dial to change the station, but before I made it there, I heard Henry squeal in delight and he began bouncing around in my arms. I watched him, amazed by how much he doesn’t look like me at all. He’s the spitting image of his birthmother. He has her big, blue eyes, her wide smile, her ski-jump nose. He has her hands and he even fiddles with them like I remembering her doing on those days we were with her before he was born. When Henry laughs, he often times makes the same breathy sound Bailey would make when she laughed.
So there I stood, looking at my son, his smile was bigger than I'd ever remembered and his little arms were flailing in the air to the music. It was in that moment that I fell in love with Hella Good all over again. From then on, that song would represent a wonderful time in my life that I had to experience. Now when I hear it, it takes me back to those early morning trips to the doctor and how they gave me and Jeremy time together as a couple. We'd talk about important things like our future plans and goals down to the little things like what movie we were hoping to see that weekend. I think we a little grew closer then. But mostly, when I hear Hella Good, I think of Henry and his birthmom, Bailey. I think about how lucky we are that she picked us out of all the other couples waiting to adopt. I think about the first time I saw him through the nursery window and how even though I didn't recognize him, my heart recognized him. And I think about all the times Henry has shaken his little groove thing to that song and shouted the lyrics as his ears hears them, "I'm gonna get that wood and I keep on dancin!"
February 14, 2008
Let The Lovin' Start
Since Valentine’s Day was just upon us, this post is dedicated to all things love…
Love and Lake Stench are in the Air
"Wuffer" comes from Henry's attempt at pronouncing "Lover", the term of endearment Jeremy and I have for each other that actually started out as a joke.
Reese was given a cute denim jumper dress and some jammies from Grandma Jo and Grandpa Brent and we got her a soft lovie bunny. Her teachers and friends at school hooked her up with some rattles and teethers.
Jeremy gave me what every girl wants…. I did have a clear and streak free commute home though!
Then we had the most romantical lunch ever (his words, not mine). Where do you go for fine dining, food and atmosphere during the middle of the day? The Training Table, of course! You know it’s classy because pictures of food were right there on the menu and we used table phones to call in our order.
Whist at lunch, we had the most deep and profound discussion about snakes, Newman Georgia and his affinity for Sylvester Stallone Movies (he waited to drop that truth bomb on me 8 years into the marriage - what?)
But the Day-o-Love didn’t stop there. Well, actually it did. I guess what I meant to say was that the Day-o-Love didn’t START there. It actually started somewhere closer to 9:00 am. My good friend Lisa's hunky Brazilian husband sent us a huge box of heart shaped bagels! We love you Pedro! We actually did high pitched girl scream when Lisa brought them in.
A few years ago, I told Pedro that in the States it is customary to bring gifts to your girlfriends friends too on Valentine's Day. I hope he didn't think I was serious. No, wait I totally hope he does!
Love and Lake Stench are in the AirValentines is over, but while it lasted it was wonderful! I don’t really love the holiday that much, but I do love that it starts the wind down of February, the most awful month of the year (Sorry Grandma Granny and Grandma Jo and President Lincoln).
This year Jeremy and I went all out…kind of. I made Jeremy this righteous “Wuffer” shirt. It’s super swell, so much that I think I’ll do them for the whole family!
"Wuffer" comes from Henry's attempt at pronouncing "Lover", the term of endearment Jeremy and I have for each other that actually started out as a joke.Henry scored an Arby’s Hat and a Shrek Soundtrack from Grandma Jo. He snagged some candy and other fun things from school. We also got him some totally cool Vans shoes but Jeremy hates them.
Reese was given a cute denim jumper dress and some jammies from Grandma Jo and Grandpa Brent and we got her a soft lovie bunny. Her teachers and friends at school hooked her up with some rattles and teethers.Jeremy gave me what every girl wants…. I did have a clear and streak free commute home though!Then we had the most romantical lunch ever (his words, not mine). Where do you go for fine dining, food and atmosphere during the middle of the day? The Training Table, of course! You know it’s classy because pictures of food were right there on the menu and we used table phones to call in our order. Whist at lunch, we had the most deep and profound discussion about snakes, Newman Georgia and his affinity for Sylvester Stallone Movies (he waited to drop that truth bomb on me 8 years into the marriage - what?)But the Day-o-Love didn’t stop there. Well, actually it did. I guess what I meant to say was that the Day-o-Love didn’t START there. It actually started somewhere closer to 9:00 am. My good friend Lisa's hunky Brazilian husband sent us a huge box of heart shaped bagels! We love you Pedro! We actually did high pitched girl scream when Lisa brought them in.
A few years ago, I told Pedro that in the States it is customary to bring gifts to your girlfriends friends too on Valentine's Day. I hope he didn't think I was serious. No, wait I totally hope he does!Not to be outdone, Sara and Kylee brought us yummy cookies from Schmit’s bakery. Even though I don’t show us enjoying them, know that we ate them and know that they were delicious.
Bedtime is a Rule NOT a Suggestion
Sometimes when your husband is out of town, your son knows that you are a pushover at bedtime. And sometimes that son stands at his bedroom door (from inside his room) and shouts to you that he has a surprise for you. And sometimes you tell him to come out and show you said surprise. Then this happens….
The New Awesome is..........
Loving Your Sister is the New Awesome
When it comes time to get Reesie down for the night, which is typically 2 hours before Henners goes down, he gets all upset. He truly does love being with her. We console him and let him know that he can see her the next day. This is usually followed up by at least 2 trips into her room so he can look at her sleeping. Here he is feeding her in the morning.
April 15, 2007
Weekend Fun
Great White Hunter
Saturday, Jeremy was up before sunlight for the turkey hunt. From across the field in Deep Creek he spied a group of three large birds and he just knew he'd found his "Tom". He crawled to the grouping on his belly, slowly and methodically as a hunter of his skill would do. However, once he was within a few yards of his prey, he noticed they were plastic and "spinning on rods". Jeremy had just spent the better part of the morning inching his way into someone else's turkey trap. You have to wonder what the other hunter was thinking the entire time as he watched Jeremy carefully attack the "prey".
Good Morning?
Friday, Henry and I fixed eggs together for breakfast. You can tell from the pictures that at first he wasn't too hip on the idea. However, once he figured out that he actually was allowed to break the eggs, he cheered up. You can see the progession of his mood in the pictures below.
Seven Year Itch
This weekend marked our 7th wedding anniversary. Jeremy convinced me that the traditional gift to mark the 7th wedding anniversary is the gift of meat so the two of us headed off to a movie and later, a yummy steak dinner. I'm hoping that the somehow I can convince Jeremy the 8th year tradition is Hawaii.
Back to dinner -- whenever Jeremy and I go out to eat, one of our favorite past times is to watch couples on dates and try to figure out which date number they are on (i.e., first date, fifth date, etc.) So you can imagine my excitement when we walked through the doors and discovered it was Prom night and dozens of overdressed high school kids were waiting to be seated too! It was our own little personal Prominade! That 30 minute wait was over way too quickly. (Did you know that powder blue tuxes have made a comeback in a big way?)
Henry: Self Portrait
Here's Henry experimenting with the camera on his own. Looks to me like the kid's got skills.
Games People Play
Sunday night we headed out to our back yard to play a little croquet and bacci ball. (Heads up, Henry's a cheater. Big time!) When Henry wasn't lobbing the solid, heavy and bruise inducing bacci balls at us, he was swinging the croquet mallots around. Sounds safe! Henry also enjoyed hanging out in the dog runs, sitting in Bat's dog house and barking at us. I'm sure the neighbors had a great time watching us.
Saturday, Jeremy was up before sunlight for the turkey hunt. From across the field in Deep Creek he spied a group of three large birds and he just knew he'd found his "Tom". He crawled to the grouping on his belly, slowly and methodically as a hunter of his skill would do. However, once he was within a few yards of his prey, he noticed they were plastic and "spinning on rods". Jeremy had just spent the better part of the morning inching his way into someone else's turkey trap. You have to wonder what the other hunter was thinking the entire time as he watched Jeremy carefully attack the "prey".
Good Morning?
Friday, Henry and I fixed eggs together for breakfast. You can tell from the pictures that at first he wasn't too hip on the idea. However, once he figured out that he actually was allowed to break the eggs, he cheered up. You can see the progession of his mood in the pictures below.
Seven Year ItchThis weekend marked our 7th wedding anniversary. Jeremy convinced me that the traditional gift to mark the 7th wedding anniversary is the gift of meat so the two of us headed off to a movie and later, a yummy steak dinner. I'm hoping that the somehow I can convince Jeremy the 8th year tradition is Hawaii.
Back to dinner -- whenever Jeremy and I go out to eat, one of our favorite past times is to watch couples on dates and try to figure out which date number they are on (i.e., first date, fifth date, etc.) So you can imagine my excitement when we walked through the doors and discovered it was Prom night and dozens of overdressed high school kids were waiting to be seated too! It was our own little personal Prominade! That 30 minute wait was over way too quickly. (Did you know that powder blue tuxes have made a comeback in a big way?)
Henry: Self Portrait
Here's Henry experimenting with the camera on his own. Looks to me like the kid's got skills.
Games People Play
Sunday night we headed out to our back yard to play a little croquet and bacci ball. (Heads up, Henry's a cheater. Big time!) When Henry wasn't lobbing the solid, heavy and bruise inducing bacci balls at us, he was swinging the croquet mallots around. Sounds safe! Henry also enjoyed hanging out in the dog runs, sitting in Bat's dog house and barking at us. I'm sure the neighbors had a great time watching us.
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