The One That Will Never Get Away

10 Years. Ten of them – IN A ROW. It’s not a little mind boggling when I really stop to think about it. Other than exist, I’ve never done anything for 10 years straight. Well, all right; I’ve brushed my teeth and shaved my legs, but only to avoid the unfortunate consequences caused by not doing those things. Which are, of course, wookie legs and gingivitis.

On May 22nd of this year my husband and I celebrated 10 years of marriage. He came home with a bouquet roses, a juicy fillet and asparagus, and a bottle of champagne I sucked on until the very last drop slithered down my gullet. He also got me a little something, which turned out to be a lottle something, because I am easily delighted and slightly manic and tend to get excited and make a VERY BIG deal about little things. Done well, they’re better than big things, I think.

He bought a dozen bags of Skittles, in a variety of flavors, then separated them – one by one – into mason jars, creating his own “special blends.”

I’m not going to lie. He knocked this one outta the friggin’ park. Not only are they pretty to look at, a confection of color, jars of art, but — SKITTLES. Yum.

skittles

We celebrated the day by staying home, drinking the whole bottle of champagne, and watching Jimmy Fallon clips on YouTube. It was fabulous. We will do BIG celebrating this summer when we road-trip-it to San Francisco for TEN days! One for every year. That wasn’t intentional, but I rather like it; it’s fitting and feels right.

But to be honest, a decade ago, as I waited for the pastor come collect me and my entourage, Canon in D Minor wafting up the staircase, I wasn’t sure I would ever see ten years. Most brides are blushing and glowing and flicking scepters are their poor indentured bridesmaids doing everything from blotting spackled lips to waving thuribles to ward off evil spirits. I was calm, serene even. Frigid as my feet were, I knew I would say “I do.” It’s true I love a good spectacle every now and again, but my wedding, a 15k affair, wasn’t the time for one. I would marry my husband because I told him I would, and because he was a good man that would love me and take care of me. And I would do the same. For how long – that was the question. My heart was a mess and there were tears in my eyes; tears my guests mistook for tears of joy, as I glided down the staircase, smiling on cue, aware of the camera capturing what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. I dutifully took my place beside my fiancé. A broken girl in a stunning white dress, I took his hands.

“We are gathered here today . . .”

The next thing I knew, ten years had passed. I decided to write my husband, Michael, a letter.

 

10th

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Love Never Fails

I’m not big on Valentine’s Day. I am big on Love.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.

 

love-inspirational-daily

 

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

 

Happy Another Day To Love Someone.

 

~ Cara

She Comes Once More

For me a new year is not a time to become a new me, but to reflect on the me I strove to be all year prior, and do my part to pencil in hazy voids within the next 365 days. Then, if all goes well, at the end of the year I’ll look in the mirror and find the face I’ve always known: a dimpled chin angled away from the murk and shadows, guided by a pair of wide, green eyes catching a bit more of the Light.

2014

 

 

Happy New Year Still You,

~ Cara

What? Who? Me?

Blog of the Year Award 6 star jpeg

Kim, over at silentlyheardonce.wordpress.com, surprised me a week or so ago by presenting me with this very unexpected award. Kim writes lovely poetry, born of a passionate soul. She writes honestly and openly, sharing her thoughts without fear. Also, she supports her followers by consistently re-blogging their material. Her blog is one I enjoy on many occasion. Just do it. Go visit her, and tell her I said hello, please.

When I say I don’t feel worthy of accepting this award, it is not an act of self-deprecation, but truly a sense of genuine unworthiness. This is because, as of late, I have neither engaged in blogging, nor have I been diligent in reading very many blogs. Some of you will know my plate is a bit full right now, and some days I have just enough energy to smile and remind myself that God is Good. He is Good and His will is divine.

That said, I am astoundingly honored, Kim, so thank you!

From the creators of the award:

The ‘rules’ for this award are simple:

1 Select the blog(s) you think deserve the ‘Blog of the Year 2012’ Award.

2 Write a blog post and tell us about the blog(s) you have chosen – there’s no minimum or maximum number of blogs required – and ‘present’ them with their award.

3 Please include a link back to this page ‘Blog of the Year 2012’ Award –http://thethoughtpalette.co.uk/our-awards/blog-of-the-year-2012-award/ and include these ‘rules’ in your post (please don’t alter the rules or the badges!).

4 Let the blog(s) you have chosen know that you have given them this award and share the ‘rules’ with them.

5 You can now also join our Facebook group – click ‘like’ on this page ‘Blog of the Year 2012’ Award Facebook group and then you can share your blog with an even wider audience.

6 As a winner of the award – please add a link back to the blog that presented you with the award – and then proudly display the award on your blog and sidebar … and start collecting stars…!

You will find all of the info plus the Awards with 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 & 6 stars upon them here

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I Hear You Knocking

Recently I finished reading “Garden Spells” by Sarah Addison Allen. I cannot tell you how good it felt to finish a book in its entirety. The fear I might possibly have resorted to reading the same ten books for the rest of my life was a bit disconcerting. Then again, do Eliot’s or Dickinson’s poems ever grow trite with repetition? Does heroism, true love, adventure, or the defeat of Good and against evil become a burden to read?

As expected, “Garden Spells” was a lovely read, leaving me completely satisfied as the story drew to a savory close; loose ends tied, plot neatly extricated, characters grown and developed people, having risen above what or whom hindered them from love and happiness. This isn’t another post about how wonderful a writer I believe Sarah Addison Allen to be, however. Not directly, anyway.

Do you remember my mentioning Sarah’s penchant for endowing each of her characters with a “thing” ? Well, I reached no further than eight pages before I was introduced to Evanelle (For those of you fretting a spoil, I assure you this will not impair the unraveling of this character’s quirk.) Waverly. Evanelle Waverly is, perhaps, my favorite character in this book; though I don’t believe she would be considered a M/C.

Evanelle is well into her seventies, nearly eighty, and we are told, looks to be about a hundred a twenty. This numerical inconsequent is superimposed by her spunk, tenacity, and a bawdy predilection for firm — male — tushes. *smiling* What’s not to love about a dirty old lady, right? Evanelle is also clever, intelligent, compassionate, feisty, and accursed with urges. We all have been there. In fact, just the other night — or was it morning by then? — I was laying in bed reading, my husband’s snores rustling the picture frames against the walls, and suddenly I was overcome with a compelling desire; one that led me tiptoeing down the hallway, past the doors of my slumbering family-members, and into the pre-dawning kitchen.

Cereal.

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