The Rose

The power went out hours ago. A few strategically placed candles flickered around the dark room. She broke off their kiss to stare into his eyes, trying to psych up the courage to say the words. She opened her mouth then closed it again wordlessly. Whatever this was between them, she didn't want to ruin it with her confession.

I love you.

The realization had shocked her. This was never supposed to be serious. It was supposed to be light. Fun. Hot as hell.

Despite both being in relationships with other people, nothing about this felt wrong. In fact, nothing had ever felt more right. She snaked her arms around his neck and pulled him in for another kiss. One which she hoped conveyed everything she felt but could not say.

This time he was the one to pull back. "Jules, if we're not married to other people by the time we're 30, you and I should get married." Julie laughed. "I don't think you could handle me," she teased.

He rolled her over quickly so he now lay on top of her. Pinning her arms above her head, he nuzzled her neck before whispering that he could spend a lifetime trying. Julie didn't have the chance to over-analyze what had been said. Between his words and the hand moving steadily up her thigh, Julie soon lost the ability for conscious thought. She drifted off into blissful oblivion in his arms.

It could have been minutes or hours later when she surfaced. He was gone. Julie stared at the flower which now lay on her desk, a single yellow rose tipped in red. The card she plucked from the vase simply read “All my love."

Julie smiled at her boyfriend’s thoughtfulness, trying not to be disappointed the flowers weren’t from Eric. Forever with him? Being together without fears of watching eyes and being found out?

Julie had to stop herself from indulging in those thoughts. She had to keep reminding herself that Ric wasn’t hers.

.....

There would be others. Loves. Lovers. Time and circumstance conspired against them. Yet they always found their way back to each other.

They each went on living separate lives, traveling in different directions. Their paths rarely crossed. But no matter how many days, months or years went by, when they did come together, they would still pick up right where they left off.

Free to follow their hearts’ desires. No inhibitions. No imaginary lines. No thoughts of right or wrong. Because when they were together, nothing else mattered. No one else existed. It was just them lost in the moment.

For however long the moment would last...

.....

The doors flew open. Soft music signified her entrance. All eyes in the room were on her. Ric fidgeted nervously at the front of the room and actually stopped breathing as she began walking down the isle toward him.

A tear slid down Julie's cheek when she saw the flower tucked into his lapel.

A single rose.

Yellow, tipped in red.

_______________

This week's theme was yellow. Although it sounded like an easy one at first, I kept getting distracted with Frank Zappa's Don't Eat the Yellow Snow... Since I couldn't really write about that, you get yellow roses instead...

Balance

I miss law school.

I know that sounds kind of strange. But I actually enjoyed it. For me, law school was more about self-inflicted torture rather than the pain of the classes the school imposed.

I wasn't one of the people who got so insane about studying that I locked myself away in the library until it closed. I didn't study all night long. I rarely cared if I got an A as opposed to the B I could get without busting my ass.

I was one of those people who hung out in the back of the class playing classroom bingo. (We created bingo cards with common things you'd see or hear during the course of a normally pretty boring con law class. Like boxes was "Regan wanting to be called on so badly he stands up waiving his hands in the air" or "Amanda makes kissy faces at her boyfriend" or a less frequently observed "Prof trips and falls.")

I showed movies on my laptop. Action was best but sometimes we put on subtitles so you could read along with movies that required actual words. The professors did get a little suspicious when people who normally sat in the front of the room moved to the suddenly jam packed last row... But as long as they didn't scream at a particularly graphic war scene, they let us get away with it.

For three years, I worked hard but I worked at the things I wanted to work at... I talked the school into entering the only criminal law moot court competition in the country so I could be one of the participants. I represented clients in the clinics. My friend and I founded the school's law review.

Like I said...it was self-inflicted torture.

We always knew how to have fun. When the studying got to be too much, we hit a movie. Or we grabbed a drink at my favorite bar. It used to be the old jail and they still had the old jail cells. Drinking in a jail cell just seemed fun...and naughty... We rolled kegs into the cafeteria a couple times a year and the whole school would drink together. Including the dean.

No matter how hard we worked, we always played harder. The balance was important to keep us sane. But somehow, the further removed from law school we've gotten, the balance has become more than a little skewed.

Between work and family, there's little time left over for much else. This weekend, it was so nice to just escape for a few hours. Head into the city. Just be with hubby, while my dad watched Andrew.

We're always saying how we need to do that more often... Remember the lessons we learned in law school. Not the ones about books or the law. The real lessons about ourselves and life...

Balance...

I'm still trying to teach myself that one...

You Never Know What You'll See in the City

I love watching people. And I love making fun of the
idiots I see.  There is no better place to people
watch than the streets of New York City, which is
where I found myself this afternoon.  Mom scored us
tickets to "American Idiot."

Never heard of it?  It's only been out in previews for a
handful of days... It's the new musical based on Green
Day's music... (For the record, it was great if you like
Green Day, but if you have a choice between American
Idiot and Rock of Ages, you MUST go see Rock of Ages)

Anyway, this post is dedicated to the random idiots I
encountered in Penn Station and on the relatively
short walk over to the theater...

First we have the brilliant woman asking for
directions:

"How do I get downstairs?"
"Um. You walk down the stairs."

SERIOUSLY?

Then enter the guy trying to find his train who probably
had no idea how loud he was when making this announcement:

"Damn!  I just want a blow job."

Honey, I'm sorry for the state of your love life.
Hell, some days I'm sorry for the state of my own.
But did you have to proclaim your overly horny state
to the whole of penn station. Were you hoping that it
would HELP your situation? That some chick would hear your
pleas and take you to the closest bathroom stall?  Like
that'll ever happen.  Perhaps you just underestimated the
echo and didn't mean for us all to overhear. Maybe next
time you should keep your...voice...down.

Outside we ran into this bit of brilliance:

"Oh! Are you cold?  You're shaking!"

Hmm... Thank you captain obvious. Your friend obviously
did not dress for walking around in the city. Maybe
no one told her that despite the 70 degree weather on
Monday, it's now 35 degrees.  But seeing as you are
dressed as nanook of the north, perhaps you could shed
one of your 50 layers and give it to her.


"Like OMG!  My feet just touched water!"

Yes, dumb ass.  That's what happens when you step right off
the curb into a massive puddle of...well, best to tell
yourself it's water. You never know what you're going to
find pooled up on these streets.  And does anyone actually
say "OMG"? Isn't that just reserved for text messages?

Once we got to the show...

"Last night, I jerked off into oblivion."

Best opening line of a show ever!  (But if this offends
you, American Idiot is probably not the show for you...)


I've said it a million times. I don't get fashion.  But I
am a woman who possesses a great deal of common sense.  I
know when things look good and I know when you look like
an ass... Examples:

Yellow leggings are not a good look for anyone!  They make
your damn legs look like big bird's!  And if you have an
ounce of fat on your thighs, please skip the leggings
altogether.

A baby is not clothing.  I get the baby in the sling
across your chest.  I've been there for the 30 seconds
Andrew tolerated being encased in the sling... But you also
need some actual clothing covering your chest.  Baby
is not an accessory nor is he a shirt.

Ripped stockings? If your hose is torn, TOSS it!  If
it has lost its elasticity so it won't stay up, it's
also time to TOSS it.  Hose is cheap.  And if you really
can't afford it, I'll give you a 20 to pick up some well
fitting casings for those sausages you call calves.  Oh,
and knee highs do not work when you wear a skirt
slit up above the knee.  Perhaps some thigh highs would
work better for you?

And then there was the woman who thought that pushing
a baby stroller through the streets constituted an
"EMERGENCY!" which meant she got to run the rest of
us over.

Perhaps my favorite was the homeless man with the
sign "WHY LIE! I NEED A BEER!"  Yeah... I give him points
and a few bucks for his honesty.

I love the strange creatures you find on the City streets...

Signs

This week's theme is signs...








No catchy story this week. I had one planned. But I didn't get home until 6:30 this morning, only to drag my ass out the door 30 minutes later for work. No, I wasn't working all night.

I literally couldn't get home. They shut down the street that led into my development. After being rerouted for 2 hours, I parked the car and tried to walk home. I ruined a beautiful pair of heels, but the cops refused to let me even walk home.

At 12:15, I conceded defeat and dragged my ass 20 minutes away to the closest hotel told the poor guy behind the desk that I didn't care if he put me in a broom closet, he had to give me somewhere to sleep for the night. Apparently he thought this was funny and offered to do me one better, setting me up in a room with double beds. He actually asked if that was okay. Bleary eyed, I stared at him and said, "I can't get home so double beds is far better than sleeping in my car." The entire lobby was full of people who started complaining that they couldn't get home either.

My phones were going dead. The alarm clock was broken. They didn't do wake up calls. (I was at a way classy establishment) I was so freaked out that I wouldn't get up in time to get hubby up for court and pick up Andrew that I woke up every 30 minutes starting at 3...

Great night, right?

Roll the Dice

Going out with kids is a gamble. Sometimes you roll the dice and come out the big winner. Other times, you roll snake eyes and completely crap out.

Tonight was one of those nights... Andrew started screaming the moment we sat down at the table. Hubby and I looked at each other before we ordered, a silent "holy shit! this could be a disaster - do we just leave now?" running through both our minds. But we decided to tempt fate and ordered.

What a fucking nightmare.

There is nothing worse than being "that mom" with "that kid" who won't stop crying.

The entire restaurant was staring at us. Half the room (the half who were parents) looked on with empathy, secretly grateful that it was our kid misbehaving, not theirs. And the rest of the room stared at us like we needed to put a muzzle on our kid. I literally had an entire table of angry women (10 of them, yes I counted) GLARING at me every time Andrew really started howling.

I know what they were thinking. Hell, before I had Andrew, I thought it myself about the moms struggling with their screaming babies. Why the hell can't she keep her kid quiet? What kind of a mom lets her kid behave like that in public? Can't you shut that kid up! I can't even hear myself think!

Half of me wanted to melt into the booth from embarrassment. The rest of me wanted to yell over to those women, "Just because my son is having a bad day does NOT make me a bad mom!" In the end, hubby grabbed the check and asked for our meals (which had not yet been served) to be brought out in to-go containers. I took Andrew's hand and marched past the bitches to the exist.

I'll admit I was pissed. It was probably Andrew's worst showing in a VERY long time. But I love my son. Crabby moments and all.

So I scooped Andrew up in a big bear hug and planted a noisy kiss on his cheek. He laughed at me, suddenly all smiles. We ran together through the parking lot, arms wrapped around each other, getting absolutely soaked in the monsoon that started the second we stepped outside.

We laughed and sang the entire way home, which took WAY longer than it should have thanks to the idiot in front of me who refused to go faster than 30 and swerved wildly all over the road every time I tried to pass him. But in the end, we had a great dinner together...just not exactly how we originally intended.

A Meal to Remember

Jim's eyes took in the massive feast assembled before him. He grabbed his fork and knife and greedily tore into a massive stack of buttermilk pancakes. They were light and fluffy, drowning in butter and maple syrup. They tasted so good an involuntary moan escaped his lips.

Jim had not had pancakes since his boys brought him breakfast in bed for father's day. They had taken in a ballgame at the Stadium after. It was unbelievable. A rare perfect game. Although that was years ago, and his boys were grown men now with families of their own, the memory of that perfect day still brought a smile.

Jim reached out and plucked a cinnamon roll off a tray. The cinnamon scent permeated the room. Jim stuffed the treat in his mouth and contentedly licked the icing from his fingers. His mom always used to make cinnamon rolls as a special treat. Birthdays. Christmas. The first (and only) A on his report card. Grabbing another roll, Jim thought he should have been a good boy more often so he could have enjoyed more of these delicious creations.

Jim dug into scrambled eggs and bacon. The bacon was still hot and crisp. The eggs just as he liked them, savory with cheddar cheese, mushrooms and ham.

Scrambled eggs and bacon always made him think of his dad. The man LIVED on that meal, happily foregoing just about everything else. "Breakfast is the best meal of the day," he used to say. "And so it should be enjoyed all day." When it got too expensive for his dad to fund his egg habit at the store, he decided to raise chickens so he would have an unlimited supply at his disposal. Jim wasn't sure how the finances worked out better since his dad spent a bloody fortune in chicken feed and coops and all...

Jim tried to pretend that he wasn't already full, wanting this meal to last forever. He set his sights on a huge bowl of fruit next. Tart grapefruit. Sweet cantaloupe. Fresh pineapple. Jim dug in with gusto. Then he grabbed a fistful of grapes and leaned back in his seat. He loved the pop as his teeth pierced the flesh of each grape.

Cynthia had liked to feed him grapes.

It hadn't seemed like that long ago... The night was supposed to be perfect. She deserved a perfect night.

Jim left work early to set the scene. Candles. Wine. Her favorite meal. And a small black velvet box with the most beautiful diamond earrings Jim had ever laid eyes on. He couldn't afford them. But his rare beauty deserved these beauties... There was no guilt about what he had to do to acquire them.

Jim shook a cigarette loose from the pack on the table and took a long drag. There was no guilt about anything that had happened that night... Remorse was a concept which always seemed to escape him.

The guard appeared out of nowhere, shaking Jim out of his memories. "You ready?" he asked. Jim rose carefully, the shackles around his ankles making movement difficult. He held out his arms and the handcuffs were reapplied. "How was your meal, prisoner?" The guard didn't care about the response, but was just making idle conversation as they made their way down the hallway.

Jim smirked. "My compliments to the chef. It was a meal to remember."

Cynthia always used to say the same thing at the end of the meal. As an aspiring chef, she always hoped to hear the words from customers at her own restaurant one day. But she would never have that chance now.

Her sentiments seemed somehow fitting on this occasion, the finale to his last meal.

____________

This week's theme was "breakfast." Check out the other Theme Thursday posts here.

Random Sunday Thoughts

Sunday seems like a good day for rambling...

I'm not a fan of daylight savings. I don't care that it gets lighter earlier. I'm rarely out during daylight hours anyway! But what concerns me is the loss of another hour of sleep. I CAN'T AFFORD TO LOSE ANOTHER DAMN HOUR OF SLEEP! At least not until the little guy starts sleeping through the night. Rumor has it this will happen one day...

I feel so old saying this...but I just don't understand the point of Twitter. Yeah, I have an account on there. No, I've never used it. Who cares if I'm running down the street to Subway for a quick turkey sub over my lunch break? Or that I'm on my way to pick up the little guy from daycare? Or...well...whatever other meaningless drivel I might post on there.

I'm watching "Minute to Win It" right now. It is a truly bizarre show. Right now a woman is trying to blow 51 cards off a bottle, leaving only a single card. If she can master this truly amazing feat, she wins $100,000. Why can't someone pay me for doing stupid shit like this? Who cares that I'd lose all credibility with my clients... I mean what corporation wouldn't want to be represented by a woman who can blow a bubble through a hula hoop 10 feet across the stage?

I had the worst day in court on Friday. I lost a motion which I had no logical reason to lose. I'm embarrassed to admit that. The judge lost sight of the law and decided to punish my client because one of its officers was, shall we say, less than candid during a deposition about the corporation's assets. SO... this means that a poor woman who is dying of cancer has to submit herself for a deposition within the next 30 days. I had a damn note from her doctor saying that the disease has affected her memory and that participation in litigation would be detrimental to her already failing health. That's fucking justice for you folks.

I'm going to recommend that the company file for bankruptcy. They need to file anyway and it'll have the nice side effect of staying the judge's order. And it will piss my adversary off. I'm all for anything that pisses off this prick.

Do you know stupid people are with Facebook? If you call out sick from work, do NOT post as your FB status that you're hopping a plane for Miami. If you're supposedly in the hospital attending to a sick relative, don't be stupid enough to post pics of you at a baseball game in the Bronx. This all happened with people in my office and yet, even caught in their lies, they don't get in trouble. I get bitched at if I don't turn in a brief on time and these guys outright lie to their boss and nothing happens to them. I hate when things aren't fair...

I haven't been able to eat sugar or fruit since August. I no longer have uncontrollable urges to suck down every sugary substance in a 5 mile radius and I haven't dreamed about apples in months. But today it's killing me. I was practically drooling over the jelly beans at the grocery store. And I'd do just about anything to be able to have a fruit smoothie. *sigh* oh well...

We tried out this new restaurant today for breakfast. It was terrible. Not only was the waitress horrible (how hard is it to bring silverware?), the food sucked. (And it's hard to screw up pancakes...) You can say I'm not a fan. Clearly they haven't worked all the kinks out yet but I'm not sure that I'm willing to give it a second chance. Anyone in this area, I'd recommend avoiding the Iron Skillet. But if you want to try it yourself, don't say I didn't warn you...

That's enough rambling. It's time to put the little guy to bed.