Scrumpdillyicious

scrumpdillyicious (adjective) : scrumptious + delicious

A quest I am in search of.

Enthusiasm. A fresh perspective. A new experience.

I am in search of the “WOW” factor. A pleasurable surprise that stirs something inside.  Bringing a knowing smile and a deserving “scrumpdillyicious!”

Many moments in life bring about a genuine “WOW!”  Oh, the beauty of the unplanned and unexpected. The sleeper. The caught off guard.

A single defining moment that soars your mind into a treasured, euphoric state, a moment forever treasured.

My trip out West to Scottsdale, Arizona being far more beautiful then I ever anticipated.

A spa day at a resort ranked #9 in the world. All-inclusive with a clay body wrap, a vichy shower and the afternoon naked in an outdoor private cabana overlooking the desert.

A hot air balloon ride in the quiet, early morning over the Sonoran Desert. Landing in the middle of no where for mimosas and a hot breakfast. 

The very essence of a man that brings all five senses alive!

My first bite into a strawberry drizzled with honey.

A foreign language spoken by a very sexy man.

A massage on the white sandy beaches of Cancun and Punta Cana. The hot breeze and the smell of the salty air only steps from the ocean.

Unexpected “ahhhh” moments in life.

Moments that are scrumpdillyicious.

Moments I embrace and long for.

A Mom and A Dad

Eric called me tonight. To let me know that he will be leaving for Florida for a few weeks and that he is afraid to leave Kirsten and the girls with precious little time left.

His muscles are freezing up in this cold winter weather and with Kirsten at work and the girls at school, Eric cannot be alone. Danny, his cousin & best friend, invited him to stay in his home in Fort Myers for the next couple of weeks. Mariah is relieved to see her dad go to warmer climates and to have Danny there for her dad around the clock.

Back in November, when Eric was diagnosed with ALS/Lou Gehrig’s Disease, I told him I needed to talk to him. The two of us as parents, about Mariah’s future. Eric informed me today that we need to have our talk soon … that he may have only one, two or three weeks left where he can talk in life. Lou Gehrig's will soon steal his ability to speak.

A couple of thoughts collide in my mind and the tears begin to pour. First, I am not ready for this conversation needing to take place so quickly. What happened to time?  Second, it was only a year ago that I had my last parenting conversation with Keith about Brooke before his suicide. A “last” conversation forever etched in my mind.

This time, Mariah’s dad. I have a window of time that is ending too quickly.

This conversation and those realizations hit as I am driving home from work on 77 South as I am approaching the CAK exit. I can’t speak. He can't either. Seconds pass and I cry, “I hate this” and he agrees.

The next 45 minutes we talk about a video that needs to be made for Mariah’s wedding day … a day he won’t be around for. We discuss college, health insurance, their finances through this ordeal and Eric shares with me conversations he has had with Mariah with guidance on what he wants for her as far as her financial security and her happiness in her future.

He tells me again how guilty he feels that Brooke will lose another male-figure and that he prays for Brooke all the time that someone will step up and fill that role in her life. A role that he helped fill along with my dad and brother, a year ago.

Eric wants to get a Facebook page and connect with old friends he hasn’t seen in years. We talk about friends he has recently seen that were our friends 23 years ago when we started dating.

I’m thankful that Eric and I are both open with each other, a mom and a dad sharing a daughter, talking about critical issues and crying together. Letting bygones be bygones.

I sit in my garage for a ½ hour unable to get out of the car so Mariah & Brooke cannot overhear our conversations. God knows I am not ready for this, but it is going to happen out of a timeline I am even remotely okay with.

Our conversation ends, I walk into my home and needed a significant other there, for me. I needed someone to talk to, a heart-to-heart partner because I couldn’t stop crying or get my act together for my girls.

There is one person, besides my parents, that is a rock in my life.

Bobby.

After the trauma of Keith’s suicide and the phone call of Eric’s diagnosis, he is always my 2^nd call after my mom & dad. When trauma hits, there is a small intimate group I will reach out to. It is defining moments in life and those you turn to during crisis that defines friendships.

Bobby is a source of strength, a voice of reason and a rock when I have nothing left. He has been in my life for four years. We are not exclusive nor do we need to be … comfort, familiarity, a partner, just a phone call away. It works for us.

I cried and exhausted my thoughts, he listened. He gave me a great suggestion for a video for Eric to do for Mariah.

Empty. Exhausted. Emotionally drained.

Lou Gehrig’s has no mercy.

A mom and a dad.

God, please give us more time. 

An Autobiography

Brooke is writing an autobiography on herself for a school project. 

She wants it to sound sensational and fun to impress on what she has done and her accomplishments, but it isn’t describing her.  Not the Brooke I would describe.

Brooke, my little girl that is stuck in between being a little girl who loves to play with toys and Barbie dolls, and Brooke the pre-teen who is transitioning into a young woman.

My Brooke is a home body. She loves to be at home, play outdoors all day, ride her scooter, play with the neighbor boys, loves technology, loves ice cream and isn’t quite into the phase of liking showers every day.  Quite honestly, it’s what we argue the most about.

Debbie, her dad’s partner, brought her Christmas presents. Gift cards and a body spray/lotion set.  Debbie asked Brooke if she like body spray.  Brooke gladly replied, “I love body sprays and I will wear it the days I don’t take showers!”  Well said Brooke and she meant it. I couldn’t stifle my laugh!

That is Brooke.

Too bad it isn’t a biography and I get to write it! J

A Letter From A Friend

This is the 2^nd morning I have cried.

Let me back up … to decades ago. Between the ages of 15 years and my early 30’s I had a very best friend, Charlotte. Life happens and we lost touch over the last 6-7 years.

I received a Christmas card in the mail from her only weeks ago. The card was a family picture of her, her husband, two daughters (that were toddlers the last time I saw them) and a new baby. She had a baby! Having her new address I was happy I could send a Christmas card back. A card with a letter.

My letter let her know about both Brooke and Mariah’s dads along with my email address.

Yesterday morning I opened my 1^st email from her.

A span of time bridged. Life quickly catching up.

It was her words of friendship that she cried when she read my letter. That she couldn’t explain to her husband our friendship so long ago to life’s tragic turns. My own fresh tears of friendship.

She remembers. She was there and remembers Eric and Keith. Through my own tears reading her letter, I remembered Charlotte and Eric’s relationship and laughed to myself at the memories. I often thought of their relationship similar to the tv sitcom “Martin.” The constant teasing and insulting relationship between Martin and Pam, Gina’s best friend. Eric made her cry the first day they met, that alone made the next 10 years of my relationship with Eric full of laughs and insults between those two.  

I read on ... Charlotte lost someone, too. A daughter. Two years ago.

My favorite part of the day is early in the morning when my home is quiet and I am the only one awake. Coffee. Christmas lights. The Today show. Ahhhh, me time!

Early this morning I opened her 2^nd email. Her daughter was born and died a couple short hours later two years ago 'today' ... fresh tears for her.

Tears for her loss. Tears for her pain. Prayers for her strength today.

My thankful heart for time that spans and friendship mended.

Life catching up quickly.

Oh What a Tangled Web We Weave

She spun her web
           carefully
  methodically
                artistically
         entrapping his mind
                       watching him flail in indecision
         pulled between his own instincts
                        and her suggestions
                                he tossed amidst the silky threads
                                   that grew tighter
                                       with every inner protest
              and she
       watching from afar
             gazed at her creation
                 trusting that he would see
                     the wisdom of her words soon enough
       and just as she thought it time to move in
                       and claim her prizes
               her foot became caught in her own snare
                       crying out for help
              she realized too late
                       the help she sought was also entrapped
                              rendered useless by her own hands
                      gazing at one another
                           across the distance of their predicament
                                   they watched one another
                                           die separate deaths
                          slowly
                               painfully
                     amidst misunderstandings
                        and a million regrets
                  he
                    for not being strong enough
                           to keep her from her own ruin
             she
                for not letting go of the reins
                       and grasping his hands instead
                                his hands
                                    that now seemed further away then ever
                    constrained by her own determinations
                         losing the power they once had ...
                   feeling her own strength dissipating
                       as she watched the color drain from his fingertips
         she realized all too late
                 that webs of manipulation
                         though beautiful in the making
                                were the most deceptive of all
             their delicate lattice work
                     quickly transforming into iron prisons
                             that bound both
                                    "victor" and victim
                 the chasm of betrayal
                        too broad to afford
                them the comfort of one another's solace
                       as they quietly died inside
                               too tired to fight
                too ashamed of their own participation
                        in this most shameful demise
             they closed their eyes
                     and dreamed of better days
                              as she concluded
                                      that webs were best left
                                             to the work of spiders ...
                                                              - Michelle McKinney Hammond

"Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive." - Shakespeare

When does it begin?  A glance. A smile.

His eyes. His lips. His hands. His touch.

Femininity. Womanly expertise. She feeds his soul and he basks in her attention, well-loved and well-appreciated.

A dangerous dance that ends up costing more that it gains.

To feed the soul, then to stand back and see what comes to fruition.

A Palm Tree

Today I stand on the threshold of a new year … a new beginning!  With a thankful heart I am relieved that I have survived 2011 with my life, health and yet still happiness.

I do reflect over 2011 and am thankful for so many successes. Two happy daughters. Milestones conquered. Health. New friendships. Deep relationships. Messages from heaven. My family whole. Employment in a high unemployment economy. That our needs are met every day and that we long for nothing. This list can go much longer. 

As a categorizing girl even my lists cannot be labeled as it was a good year or it was a bad year. It was a year in my life with blessings still showered on me in the midst of a few giants.

It is natural to be excited about a fresh start, a brand new year, new dreams and unmarked possibilities. Even 2012 will have giants to endure.

The Bible is beyond comprehension with its parables that span thousands of years. Always with prayer I seek strength and today my heart was reminded by my Magical Highlighter as I read Joel Osteen daily devotional:

Have you ever seen a palm tree in the midst of a great storm? That tree may be bent so far over that it’s almost touching the ground, but when the wind finally stops, that palm tree bounces right back up. What’s interesting is that while that palm tree is hunched over under the pressure of the storm, it is actually growing stronger?

The reason God said we’d flourish like a palm tree is because He knew there would be difficult times. He knew things would come against us to try to steal our joy and victory. God said, “You’re going to be like a palm tree because when the storms of life blow, you are going to come right back up stronger than before.” Nothing can hold you back! No weapon formed against you will prosper.

As you reflect on the events over the last year, remember, the storms you have encountered have only made you stronger. You are wiser, you are more alive, and you are headed for victory. You’re brightest days are right out in front of you! – JOEL OSTEEN

The very same God that brought me safely through the last 41 years of my life will be there in 2012, too.

New year, I embrace you. New dreams, I welcome you. Unmarked possibilities, I receive you. New giants, I endure you but I introduce you to my God.

A life well lived is built one day at a time.

In the Desert

I read an analogy about being in the desert today. The story of a journey from God’s promise to a “promised land” that ended up in a desert for 40 years. For 40 years. In a desert.

This is me. I’m hoping not 40 years though.

My whole life I have loved love.

I had a revelation of my own. I am pretty good at words of affirmations. Someone special recently took my words of praise as not sincere. That I am merely good at praise, with a host of empty words ready to say. He was wrong.

Caught off guard, I had to quickly get the last 20 years summed up in my own mind before I could explain it to him, which had me thinking about my own story.

In my 20’s I was a princess brat. Love was mostly surface, hot tempered and replaceable. In my early 30’s I just had a little more experience and with a touch of real life that taught me humble pie, I did get myself into bad situations which calmed me down a bit. It wasn’t until my late 30’s that I began to really love. Deeply.

The agape kind of love where I wanted to seek it, read it, lose myself in it and perfect it.

It was during these last few years that I came to understand agape love and words of affirmations. Magical words that bring life from ordinary to extraordinaire!

Watching empty hearts come alive with sincere words of praise has taught me the power of words and even more, the power of love.

Words said are always true and sincere. If heard too much, they lose their power. This is a new balance I am learning.

When I look back over my own journey through the desert of life, I can now see the personal growth when all I used to see was broken dreams.

It was never about broken dreams. My year’s in the desert was God’s love protecting me from my own choices. God loving me too much to leave me where I thought I wanted to be, grooming me, while providing for me all along.

This desert has a beauty of its own. Initially it sounds barren and desolate; however, there is much beauty in the desert.

Strength. Endurance. Patience. Faith. Hope. Love.

Words of affirmations.