Proof of Love

Jeanna GLeave a comment

When we were kids, we became blood brothers or blood sisters to prove our love and dedication to one another. We would pinprick our fingers, and then touch and press our blood droplets together. This was in the 80s, so the CDC promptly called for an end to that practice.

Luckily, embroidery thread was cheap and I had time to make as many friendship bracelets as I had friends. We’d wear them until they fell off.

It was then that we realized we needed something more permanent. So we spray painted our initials and a heart inside the giant cement sewer pipes that were actually our playground structures.

We came, we hiked, we carved

We somehow made it to middle school, so we needed a new canvas. How about carving our initials and a heart into a tree trunk? We thought it would last forever. But then the tree was chopped down to put up a parking lot. Joni warned us of this. We’d stick it to the man and draw our initials and a heart into the wet cement.

High school was next, so we stuck cups in the shape of a heart and our initials into the chain link fence around the football field.

College brought love notes on mirrors.

Now, me and my besties decided on matching tattoos. (We used different needles. )

Love will persist, and it’s our job to prove it.

How will you prove your love this Valentine’s Day?

Leftovers

Jeanna GLeave a comment

Weekly Specials:

Monday – chicken

Tuesday – beef 

Wednesday – pasta 

Thursday – fish 

Friday – leftovers 

Mom worked a 9 to 5, showed up at our school functions and sporting events, and still cooked dinner for seven every night. It’s amazing she had anything leftover to give! 

Happy Birthday, Mom! What’s on the menu tonight?

Superlatives and Prophecies

Jeanna G4 Comments

At my high school, each graduating class would vote on who should receive the superlative titles of Class Clown, Most Talkative, and Best All Around, among others. I didn’t receive any superlative distinctions by my class. I should’ve been voted “Most Sure of Myself,” because I knew who I was and what I wanted in life. Even so, I was curious about what they (I assume the yearbook committee members were our prophets?) predicted for my future. I really just needed to make sure I’d been heard. And I had been. My Senior Prophecy was that I ‘will never pay off my chiropractor bills.’ It was a funny nod to the assumption that I would become a chiropractor – my career goal at that age – and would have a mountain of loans to pay off. What’s ironic is that I’m not a chiropractor, but I’m still paying bills for all of the chiropractic treatments I continue to receive, thanks to my exhausting life. I might now be superlative as “Most in Need of an Adjustment.” Somehow my Plan A disappeared, along with B and C, and now I’m on Plan D, which wasn’t a plan until about 6 years ago.

As the Yiddish proverb advises, “When you make plans, God laughs.”

As a kid, I had a grand plan. I knew what I wanted. I knew what was going to happen. I knew how old I’d be when I married and started a family, how many kids I’d have, what my career would be, even what my house would look like.

I wasn’t right about any of it. I’m now superlative at being “Most Gobsmacked.”

This revelation begs acceptance of what is, closely followed by a proposal to quit planning.

At church on epiphany Sunday, we all close our eyes and select a star from a basket. Each star has a word on it that we can contemplate for some time. My daughter chose “prophecy.” I chose “eagerness.” I nudged her in the pew and told her to hurry up and tell me what was coming my way. I couldn’t decipher her look; was she annoyed, or was she just thinking it best not to break the news?

I guess I’ll just have to be superlative as “Most Patient” and “Most Observant” for what is heading my way. I hope I don’t miss it while I’m busy making Plan E.