Monday, December 15, 2008

No darlin'. You do NOT look familiar to me.

This is what you find recorded on your laptop when you leave your 11 year old alone in the car with your laptop for a few minutes while buying cheese at Grocery Outlet. All I can say (besides the apple obviously doesn't fall far from the tree) is thank goodness I had a child with XX chromosomes instead of the other kind.
Because I am a little terrified to think about kind of terror I might have unleashed upon the world and what I might've found saved on my computer had she been born a boy instead.

Monday, December 8, 2008

Back from my Vacation

Whales Head Beach, Brookings

Sorry...I was on vacation from the Best Boyfriend in the World blog for awhile. It was the holidays, after all.
But I'm back.
Today I took a 3 hour walk on the beach with the best boyfriend in the world. We took several walks on the beach over the weekend, actually, and those walks inspired some of the best conversation I have ever had in my entire life.
Although he's a pretty amazing guy already, those walks, and the byproduct - the conversations - brought us both to a deeper understanding of each other and our relationship.
We've had some rough spots lately, mainly discovering some differences in our conflict management styles.
But we also both understand how incredibly lucky we both are to have met the person that is just RIGHT for each other. And I personally feel....well...I hate to say this, because it sounds so, so, SO Jerry Maguire, but this man completes me.
He tames me (ask anyone who knows me. I needed to be tamed).
He fills up my emotional bucket.
He takes everything I have to give, and he gives back to me.
We both realize that this relationship is special, it's a one-of-a-kind, and it's worth fighting for.
Well, to be more accurate, it's worth learning new conflict management techniques for.
One of my friends asked me last week if the honeymoon was over.
Well, yeah, sorta.
Except that this weekend we sorta went on our 2nd honeymoon. So we're probably even more pathetic and gushy than ever.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Can I go home?

This morning the best boyfriend in the world brought coffee to me at work, kissed me goodbye, and took my daughter to the toy store. I think a hackey sack competition is in the works. They've had arm wrestling contests, starting contests, armpit farting contests, and now this.
As they walked away down the street, I watched them the whole way, grinning from ear to ear until I lost sight of them, struck by how sweet they looked. Eddie swaggering just a little bit in a body that seems to get buffer every time I see him, my daughter skipping along with her pink satin purse, filled with gift cards and a crisp dollar from the tooth fairy. Later they're going to make peanut butter chocolate chip oatmeal cookies.
My two towheads that I love more than anything in the world, spending the day together.
Can I go home yet? Can I please?

Monday, November 24, 2008


Perhaps a little clarification is in order, and from now on I'll be a bit more careful about how I tell people about the amazing man in my life.

Yesterday I was catching up with an old friend that I haven't spoken to in years. We had a lot to catch each other up on.
Finally, I got around to the Best Boyfriend In The World. 
I said, "...and then I started dating my 9th grade boyfriend, and suddenly everything's wonderful! He's amazing."
She was shocked.
Couldn't believe what I'd just told her.
Horrified, actually, that I was so desperate for male companionship that I was dating a 9th grader.

Sunday, November 23, 2008

He's on his way back to me

Less than 24 hours
Less than 1600 minutes
Less than 86,400 seconds..86,399...86,398...86,397...

until the best boyfriend in the world is back in my arms.

Ya think I miss him just a little?


Tompkinese from the mouth of an 11 year old

Heard on the stoop of my front steps this morning:

"Emalie, can you ding the dong?"

My daughter speaks Tompkinese!

Saturday, November 22, 2008

Eau de Girlfriend

My boyfriend, I fear, has lost his stank.

It happens to guys, he theorizes, after they've been without female companionship and intimacy after awhile. The stank wears off, he says. It's not just a man thing, either. Happens to us womenfolk as well. 
I told a friend about his theory (and his completely unscientific experiment to prove it, which involved going fishing on the high seas for 3 months in Alaska and then buying lots of drinks for lots of women who went home with other guys instead of him). She agrees with the idea, although she put it a different way. It goes something like this:

When you've been without for awhile, and don't want to be without, people tend to come off as a little desperate. Which chases people away. Which would tend to make a person even a little bit more desperate. But once someone does find a companion, a lover, someone who fulfills that hungry need for intimacy and affection, they've got a new energy. Like an aura, she said. But it's obvious to other people. People can pick up on happiness and satisfaction, and they gravitate towards it. They want to be around someone who's blissful and satiated.

Which is why, she said, Eddie's stank theory makes sense. Once he's got the stank on him, women can sense it. Smell it. And they want it. They want him. As soon as he and I became an item, girls were flirting with him all the the grocery store, in restaurants, old girlfriends calling him up and asking for another chance... it's sort of annoying, actually. But I'm secure with my place in his life, so it's a bit amusing as well.
This stank theory is why the girl who's already got a boyfriend suddenly has to beat all the guys off with a stick. And the girl who's single and putting herself out there is wondering why all the guys keep clamoring around one who's already spoken for.
Anyway, it's been a month since I've been able to rub my stank on my boyfriend. The smell of me has worn off, and not only does he sound hungry and irritable, he says nobody flirts with him anymore. Poor guy. Too bad I can't bottle Eau de Girlfriend and send it up to him.

Friday, November 21, 2008

28 years ago today

Today is the 28th anniversary of the first time my lover first kissed me. And the 28th anniversary of the first (and only) time I ever got kicked out of a school dance.

He had just turned 15. I was still 13, but just 3 weeks away from being 14. We were both 9th graders at Jefferson Junior High. We met in gym class, as best I can recollect. That fall we learned how to play frisbee football. Eddie liked my blue shorts. He thinks they were turquoise. I say they were more navy blue. But we both agree that they were the kind with the underwear built in, slit up the sides a little. Dolphins, Eddie calls them. He liked them so much that he kept chasing after me on the field, trying to pull them down. I remember him singing, "Another One Bites The Dust" and "We Are The Champions" by Queen.
Just like today, 28 years ago the 21st day of November fell on a Friday. Eddie asked me to the dance that night that took place in the school gym. I still remember bringing a can of cream of mushroom soup for the canned food drive and dropping it into a big bin in the hallway outside the gym. I'm sure I was wearing my white faux sheep wool jacket with pockets so shallow that anything I ever put in them fell out and was lost forever. Except for Eddie's hands.
I remember being out on the dance floor with Eddie. I think he was wearing his white wide legged pants. The rage back then was painter's pants with the extra deep pockets on the sides, perfect for a comb. Not that he ever combed his hair. He had that tousled thing down.
That was where we kissed. Dancing on the gymnasium floor. Once we started, we couldn't stop.
(Editor's note: He's still the best kisser. I was just telling him so today. Maybe it's just because we learned together, but his kisses are perfect and delicious.)
We may have stopped kissing briefly, once when they announced who had shot J.R. over the loudspeaker, and again when one of the teachers tried to separate us. Eventually, they just kicked us out of the dance.
So we walked a few blocks away to the pizza parlor with our friends Kristin, Arnie, and others who's names escape me after so many years.
It was the start of something wonderful that didn't get a chance to fully blossom at the time. But we kissed and kissed and kissed every day for hours and hours, whenever we got the chance. It didn't last long. That's not true. For 9th graders, we lasted an eternity. 2 whole months, until my family moved away.
But here we are again, 28 years later. 
Kissing again.
Happy Anniversary to the most amazing kisser and the most fantastic human being I have ever had the pleasure and joy of getting to know all over again.

The following I totally ripped off of a greeting card in Rite-Aid tonight:

Why is it that I wake up each morning feeling like its my lucky day? 
Why is it that suddenly pie in the sky dreams seem  possible?
Why is it that suddenly I'm considering doing all those things I said I'd never do again?
Why is it that after years of feeling emotionally numb, I feel more alive than ever?
Why is it that I look forward to going to bed now, even if it's just to sleep, as long as you're by my side?
Why is it that I'm asking these questions when I already know that the answer begins and ends with you.

Eddie, I promise to always treat you with love and respect because you are someone I plan to be with for a very long, long time.  And you're worth it. You are the man.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Who Shot J.R.?

Let me tell you about what I missed on tomorrow's date, 28 years ago.
More than 41 million people were gathered around their tv sets, watching the 2nd highest rated show in television history. They were finding out who shot JR.
I missed it.
Not that I cared. Tomorrow I'll let you in on what I was doing when 41,470,000 tv viewers were glued to the set. It's not that I didn't hear about who shot JR; I did. But I was far more interested in my new boyfriend.
Here's the synopsis for Dallas on that night:

Sue Ellen's fingerprints are identified on the gun that was used to shoot J.R. She is arrested and jailed in the shooting of her husband. She is further devastated when the Ewings abandon her, leaving her to languish in jail. After bail is mysteriously posted from an unknown source, Sue Ellen seeks solace from her sister, Kristin. Sue Ellen seeks answers through hypnosis sessions with her psychiatrist, Dr. Ellby. These sessions lead to the answer of who shot J.R.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Don't tell my boyfriend I'm getting googled when he's not around

I learned a long time ago that there really is no true anonymity when you're surfing the net.
And while I don't know your name or where you live or how old you are, I know how you came to find me. Or at least how most of you found me. And you know what?
It's soooo incredibly sweet.
There's this great little program that tells me what people googled to find best boyfriend in the

Today someone in Zurich, Switzerland was searching the internet for a 'best boyfriend certificate.' What a great idea! Meanwhile, Several people over the last few days from California have found me because they were looking for a card to get their boyfriend.

Someone in Toronto, Canada loves their boyfriend just about as much as I do. Yesterday she searched for a special way to wish her boyfriend a happy birthday and found this site. She also did a search on "I love my boyfriend so much" and found me again. Hiya, sister!

But here's what I love: Yesterday a guy in New York did a google search on "How to be the best boyfriend in the world." Guy, whoever you are, good luck to you, you sweet man. I just hope your girlfriend (or boyfriend for that matter) knows what a dedicated, wonderful lover you are, or at least strive to be. Oh- and if you're into the long distance thing, I've got a couple of girlfriends who might like to meetcha. A couple of guys too, for that matter.

Somebody in San Francisco thinks he's the best boyfriend in the world - at least that's what he googled in order to find me. Honest. "I'm the best boyfriend in the world" was his search. Also just as weird, is that this blog was the #1 result. Yeah, I can even see what their searches bring up. It's just wacky and cool, this little program. Tells me that people from Malaysia and England and New Jersey and even Redding, CA have looked at this blog. Again, don't worry. I don't have your name or email address, and I'm not going to send you threatening emails or tell your boss you were surfing the net looking for a way to be the best boyfriend in the world at work. I mean, where do you think I'm typing this from? (Just kidding, boss. It's almost midnight. I'm in my pajamas.)

And then there's the search that solidifies my raison d'etre. The girl in Poitou-charentes, France who searched for "things to send to a boyfriend separated by miles." Honey, I feel your pain. And bless you for thinking of him. You might be one of the best girlfriends in the world too.

Monday, November 17, 2008

Tompkinese, Part 2

Tonight I was talking to the Best Boyfriend In The World on the phone while I did 27 minutes on the treadmill. It went by so fast. We were talking about all that mushy stuff that we always talk about - the kind of stuff that makes most red blooded hetero men reach for the puke bucket - talking about his enormous capacity to love and how each of us has an incredible work ethic, the kind that made it possible for each of us to be willing to give 110% in a relationship in the hopes that we might get most of our investment returned, instead of how a lot of people go about it, which is to give absolutely nothing of themselves emotionally, and hope love will just fall into their lap is like thinking you've got a chance of winning the lottery without ever actually buying a ticket.

"Baby, that is so profane!" says the best boyfriend in the world.

It was a nice compliment, really, it was! I knew what he meant.

But still, Tompkinese, at it's finest.

The difference between profound and profane is just.... well.... profound.

It's been 3 long weeks since I've held that Tompkinese speaking man in my arms. Only one more week.

Saturday, November 15, 2008


Sometimes I get voicemails from the Best Boyfriend In The World that go like this:

"Hi babe, it's just me, loving you. Bye!"

And then other times I get messages like this:

"Hey, baby! My baby's gonna be tap dancing? What the Sam Hell is going on with that? OK baby, don't forget... I don't wanna be embarrassed walking around Redding with you by my side. So do real good, ok? Because I don't want people in Safeway laughing at us when we go in there to buy a red bell pepper or something, ok? Alright. Anyhooch, tap your little heart out. And remember: you represent the both of us. I don't want anyone laughing at me in Safeway. Peace."

Friday, November 14, 2008

Ripped Straight From The Pages Of My 9th Grade Diary:

It's a yellow hardcover book covered with little white and pink daisies and pink and green polkadots. The words "One Year Diary" are embossed on the cover in gold. It's most important adornment, however, is the lock.

Here's my entry from November 25th, 1980, twenty eight years ago this month:

"Last Friday, November 21st, there was a dance at school....there was a guy named Eddie and he and I were pretty good friends, until that night. And by the end of the night he and I were going together. We've only been together 4 days, but I'm so happy! I really think I love him. In fact, I'm sure that he's gonna be real special to me. We're like the Siamese twins."

A few weeks ago Eddie and I went to visit his hometown on the coast. He introduced me to some friends, and as we stood in their yard laughing and joking, our arms around each other, one of them said, "You two are like Siamese twins."

Yeah, I knew that.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Happy Birthday Lover

43 years ago in the old hospital in Coos Bay, a tow headed little baby boy was born. His mother decided to call him Eddie. And that's what she put on the birth certificate. Not Edward, not Ed. Eddie. His people were of less than modest means. Apple pickers, who moved around a lot throughout the Northwest. Just like our grandfathers, he lived in houses without running water or indoor plumbing. His siblings were all from different fathers. He never knew his own.  And when most kids were in Little League, learning how to throw a curve ball, Eddie and his sister were looking through the dump for copper wire to sell to make some extra cash.
I remember when I got to be a teenager, my parents were tearing their hair out trying to control my rebellious streak. When Eddie got to be too difficult for his mother, she sent him off to live with his older sister. I'm glad she did. That's how I met him. 
He may have grown up in a situation where he wasn't given the same amount of encouragement and support that I had. And although he has suffered one of the most difficult paths to get to where he is today, he has finally arrived at his destination. 
Scarred by the tattoos of his youth but cleansed of old ways, his heart and mind have been opened to new paths that are lit with great clarity.  He attributes the light on that path to God. I am always reminding him that while God may have provided the key to unlock the door, Eddie was the one who chose to open that door and walk through it and never look back.
As he finds himself at my doorstep, his heart in his hand, his soul bared for anyone to see, his eyes brimming with tears of joy, tears for what might have been, tears for what never was and humble tears for what lies ahead for him, he offers me more love than I can believe was possible for a person to offer another.
He brings tears to my eyes every day, and every day I love him just a little bit more as he overflows my heart with true, pure emotion.
I am the luckiest woman on Earth.
Happy Birthday Lover.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Happy Birthday To All My Scorpio Friends

I'm just a little jealous. I have so many friends and relatives who get to be Scorpios. 
Why can't I be a Scorpio too? It's just not fair!

Happy Birthday Lena & Leona, happy birthday to my almost-sister Caroline and happy almost birthday to the Best Boyfriend In The World. Oh, and a happy birthday to my favorite composer, Johann Nepomuk Hummel, Aaron Copland and Fanny Mendelssohn, Felix's big sister.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

I Don't Argue Like This With Anyone But Him

You'd think with all the sweet things I say about the Best Boyfriend In The World that we're still in that Honeymoon Phase where every single thing about the other person is absolutely perfect. That moment in time before he's farted in front of me (fyi, he got that one over with right away), and when we're both in that silly, deluded place where we believe the other can do no wrong. You know, that special time before our first argument.
Well, we got that over with a while back too.
A couple of times, actually.
But somehow each time we hit a little rough spot, we come out better for it. Not just our relationship. But each of us, as people.
My BFF even said to me the other day, "I have a feeling that you're going to grow tremendously as a human being through your relationship with this guy."
I already know she's right.
And the other day he said to me, "I feel like each time we have an argument, I come out of it loving you more. Which I didn't think was possible."
Now don't go thinking that we're going to start looking for reasons to argue just so we can make up and love each other more. Arguments are never fun. But it's true that each time we have a difficult, uncomfortable situation between us, that as we talk it out and move through it, I come to respect him more as a person because of his incredible clarity and understanding of himself.
In my entire life, I can't recall a relationship with a man that I felt was just as strong or stronger after a difference of opinion than before. 
Honestly. I've never argued like this with anyone but him.
I feel a song coming on... and it's not even Friday!

Sunday, November 9, 2008

I Made My Boyfriend A Birthday Card Today

Young Eddie, knowing he was destined 
to spend hours and hours on the phone
 with his girlfriend later in life, 
decided to start training right away.

Editor's Note: Yes, that IS an actual, unretouched photo of the Best BoyFriend In The World at the age of 3 on a pink phone, looking more sweet and innocent than I've ever seen him, a good 12 years before I met him. I glued this onto a blank card and mailed it to him along with a care package filled with goodies for his birthday as a bonus surprise. Shh, don't tell him!

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

Yep, I'm comparing my boyfriend to the President-Elect

The Best Boyfriend In The World is similar to Barack Obama in one way.
No, he's not black. Not even half black.
He's not a lawyer, not from Illinois, doesn't have any roots in Hawaii or Kenya, hasn't associated with any radical bombers (uh, I might have to take that statement back so don't hold me to it) and he's the last guy to ever think about running for President. In fact I doubt he's ever thought about running for any kind of office, ever.
But you know what? He looks at me the way Barack Obama looks at his wife.
Must be great to be Michelle Obama, because I know how I feel when he looks at me like that. Like I'm the only woman on the planet.
It is very clear that the 44th President of the United States is deeply in love with his wife.
There is so much love in the way he looks at her, so much adoration and respect in his eyes.
That is an amazing, beautiful thing.

Monday, November 3, 2008

Beam Me Up, Scotty!

View Larger Map

And it goes from bad to worse.
I'm still A.
B is in the middle of Bumhumping Egypt...somewhere north of Wagontire and south of Fossil, where he was last week.
C is where he's at now. Lost in Oregon. Lostine, Oregon. For 2 flipping weeks. 12 hours away by car. This is when a teleporter could come in really, really handy.
I'd be willing to pay top dollar. As much as $913 maybe. Maybe a little bit more.

Sunday, November 2, 2008

Cool Beans!

I don't remember the subject of our conversation. Only that Eddie had an idea, and it was a good one, and I was excited about it, and replied enthusiastically, "Cool Beans!!!"
He said, "Where did you get that saying from?!"
"Uh, I dunno. I've been saying it forever. I don't know where it came from."
"Babe, I think you got it from me. Back in junior high. I used to say that. In fact, I always thought I just came up with it myself."
I gave him the benefit of the doubt... well, I didn't really. But I let him think I thought he came up with the phrase. Because he is, after all, the best boyfriend in the world.
But tonight, watching Speed Racer with my daughter (who demanded to have her own blog today), Trixie said it, and it got me to thinking about the origins of the phrase.
I found a bunch of websites perusing on the origins here and here . And while it's possible that any one of those sites could point to the original use of the phrase, I don't think that's how Eddie or I came to use it. But knowing my sweet boyfriend and what he was like in junior high, I think the explanation from Urban Dictionary is the most likely.
I knew it as soon as I saw who was behind the quote, from a famous LP some of you may remember from our, um, childhood:

Cheech: Hey man, look at this car made out of weed! 

Chong: Oh cool beans, man!

Saturday, November 1, 2008

Ingrid Michaelson is calling

Eddie has a special ringtone in my phone, one that speaks to me. Well, it sings to me.
"I love the way you say good morning,
and you take me the way I am."
Every time I hear that song it puts a smile on my face, especially if it's coming from my phone, because I know the Best Boyfriend In The World is calling me.

Since Sunday evening, Ingrid's serenading has fallen sadly silent.

Until last night, when she started singing to me so unexpectedly!

As it turns out, the Best Boyfriend In The World drove all the way to Prineville, a 48 mile excursion, under the pretense of stocking up on groceries, but he said it was really to call me.
Unfortunately, it was while he was stalking the aisles of Grocery Outlet, trying to find something palatable, and he was having a hard time. A hard time finding anything that looked or sounded appetizing, and a hard time focusing on his girlfriend. So I told him to hang up, concentrate on the food, and call me afterwards. Later, he sat in the parking lot drinking a half gallon of milk out of the container and eating granola bars while telling me he loved me through a mouthful of oats and grains. Sho shweet!

Thanks, Ingrid! It was lovely to hear your voice.

Would you like to hear her voice too?

Friday, October 31, 2008

Please Deposit Another Quarter

The Best Boyfriend In The World just discovered the payphone.
It's been so long since he's used one, he forgot how. Also worth mentioning - AT&T has apparently ignored the Eastern Oregon phone booth. It's still a dime for local calls. At least that's what it says on the phone.
So, although Mr. Blue Sky still gets top billing because Eddie will sing it with me at top volume on road trips, for Video Friday I pay homage to the telephone with my 2nd favorite E.L.O. song, Telephone Line:
P.S. I like this version far better than the original E.L.O. music video. It's got that certain 'girl band pinkness' that I adore.

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

$152.50 an hour

The Best Boyfriend In The World isn't a happy camper right now, only being able to borrow a phone every other day to call me, and knowing that he will probably not be able to see me for the next 3 weeks, unless I somehow go to him.

So I checked it out.

Here's what it'll take:

I can book a flight on Alaska Airlines, leaving Saturday morning, because I would never shirk trick-or-treating duties with my daughter Friday night. I can catch the 7am flight to L.A. where I change planes, heading to Seattle, where I change planes again and end up in Pendleton at 5:45pm.

Then I'd rent a car and drive 119 miles to his hotel, where we'd probably have to book our own room, since he's bunking with another workmate. Mapquest says it's a 2 1/2 hour drive. Allowing for just 15 minutes to fill out paperwork at the car rental place, and knowing how fast I drive, I estimate I'd finally get to kiss my sweetheart at 8:30pm if my plane is on time.

Then, because I still have those pesky motherly duties to attend to, I'll need to return Sunday. The only flight out is at 6:10am, going to Seattle, then Portland, and arriving back home at 3:25pm. They tell you to arrive at the airport a good 2 hours in advance, but this is Pendleton. I think it'd be safe to get in at 5am, meaning I'd have to kiss my honey goodbye at 2:30am.

Total cost to see the Best Boyfriend In The World for 6 hours?

Roundtrip Flight: $762.50, including taxes & fees

Rental Car: $55.00 (includes 150 miles, taxes & fees)

Additional mileage fee: $27.00 (90 miles x .30/mile)

10 gallons of gas (I'm lowballing it at $3.25):$ 32.50

Cheap Hotel Room: $ 34.00

TOTAL COST: $913.00


He had to climb a mountain to call me.

OK, so he drove in his car to the top of the highest point in the Middle of Nowhere, Eastern Oregon. But still. He had to go looking for a signal, and finally found it.

I almost didn't answer my phone, because I didn't recognize the number. That's because Verizon has no cell service in those parts, so his phone is useless. But the Best Boyfriend In The World wasn't giving up. He borrowed his bosses phone, who mentioned that his phone sometimes works there, and started driving up.

That's dedication.

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Color Me Unhappy

View Larger Map

A is me.
B is him.
Right now A is separated by B by 6 hours and 36 minutes of driving time.
A is not very happy.
Neither is B.
We just want to be together.
He is 70 miles from the nearest store and is living off of beef jerky, cereal bars and roasted peanuts for the next 4 days, shelling out $17 a night to share a crappy hotel room with some guy he barely knows while they fix a couple of bridges. I shouldn't call it crappy. I'm just assuming that for $34 a night, it's pretty crappy. Then again, it's probably the only hotel room within 70 miles, so I guess I shouldn't knock it.

Thanks to Google Maps for pointing out just how far away I am from my boyfriend.

Monday, October 20, 2008

Are Republican Sleeper Agents taking over in Coos Bay?

I would've been happy with one of these. Seriously.

I am seriously considering calling Barbara Boxer to see if she might be interested in kicking some Oregon ass. Seriously.
This weekend the best boyfriend in the world took me to his hometown of Coos Bay, Oregon to visit his family.
Turns out there's something of a minor lighthearted feud going on between  his niece and her grandfather, who lives next door. He's voting for the GOP, and has posted a McCain/Palin sign in the corner of the yard facing sweet Brook's house, just to get her Obama lovin' goat.
We told Brook she needed an Obama lawn sign. So we started looking for one to swipe. Seriously.
It was kinda hard. There's apparently a lot of McCain/Fey supporters in Coos Bay. Everywhere you look, McCain signs. Very rare is a declared Democrat. We did see a few lawn signs, but it was apparent from their proximity to McCain lawn sign clusters that they were guarding very important territory. What we were really hoping for was to find the Frank Tredway of the Southern Oregon coast...the kind of person who would have 11 or 12 Obama signs placed throughout the property. One on the porch, one in the window, another on the white picket fence, you get my drift. Somebody who wouldn't miss the disappearance of just one sign for a really good cause.
So this morning we went to the mall to get my sweet boyfriend a new cell phone case. Apparently the velcro in the old one has worn out because he's spending so much time on the phone with his girlfriend.
But I digress.
There's an Obama office in the mall. And it's walls are covered with Obama '08 signs. Just what we were looking for!
We walked in, and said, "Hey, can we get an Obama yard sign? We really need one."
A 50ish guy with a pink beard (Seriously. I wouldn't kid you about this stuff, you know that!) says, "Well here's what you do. Head on down to the other end of the mall to the Democrat Headquarters, they should have one there. They were closed a few minutes ago, but they should be there now. Or soon."
We're wondering why they don't just give us one. They've got plenty, they're all over the walls. I try to talk them out of one. He stands his ground, pointing towards the other end of the mall.
But my sweet boyfriend, he doesn't complain. He heads down there while I browse Sam Goody. Then returns 5 minutes later, empty handed.
"Closed. Nobody's there."
Well, it is Sunday. Normally I'd agree that this is a day of rest. But for Obama's sake people, there's like 10 shopping days til election! It's time to get serious, folks. Seriously!
So we head back to the Obama office and report the awful news. And then we say again, "So can you just give us one? We really want it. We're just trying to spread the good word here. You know, furthering the cause."
They said, "You'll just hafta wait til the Democrat office opens. They have the lawn signs."
"Yeah, but so do you....can't you just give us that one over there, one of the 12 you've got on the wall?"
"Gosh, sorry," pinkbeard says. "No can do."
"Seriously? SERIOUSLY?!"
We turned around and walked off empty handed, absolutely stunned that these guys were so sphincter tight with the signs that they couldn't give us one, and go replenish their supplies when the real Democrats arrived to work, fashionably late, whenever that was.
If McCain and his minion win the election because the Republican vote on the Southern Oregon coast tipped the scales in his favor, I'm blaming ol' Pinkbeard for being stingy with the Obama lawn signs. If he turned me down, how many other people did he send away who were begging for signs?
I'm thinking of calling Barbara Boxer and informing her that the people running the Obama office in Coos Bay are sleeper agents for the Republican Party; working hard to keep Obama lawn signs out of Coos Bay.
I just can't think of any other reason they wouldn't just give us the stupid cardboard sign.
It's just stupid enough to make me want to vote for McCain out of spite for the pink bearded guy.
OK, just kidding. But if McCain wins, I'm personally blaming that guy at the Pony Village mall.
Remember: 50's, tall, pink beard. Hard to miss. Sticks out like a sore thumb in Coos Bay. Kinda like a Democrat would.

Sunday, October 19, 2008

Tears of Joy

I saved this voicemail from a few months ago for those moments when I need a little reminder that my alpha male, testosterone packed, multi-tattooed, football loving, heavy equipment operating, construction worker boyfriend is really just a pussycat, tamed by love.

"Baby, that was the most awesomest voicemail that I have ever received. And my first, very first initial reaction to it was to start crying. I am so happy to be with you."
Every time I hear it, I wanna cry a little bit too. He's the most awesomest boyfriend in the world.

Friday, October 17, 2008

I'm jumping on the Video Friday bandwagon!

I know I'm putting words into his mouth, but I know he feels this way.
I know it with all my heart.
It's Irish lilting James Morrison and his song, Better Man.
The lyrics are beautiful.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

This Is What I Wake Up To Every Morning

In my voicemail, today:

You are the most wonderful, beautiful, sexiest person alive
and I absolutely adore you, baby.
You turn the switch on.
To full power.
I love you.

It could only be better if he were saying this in person instead of through Verizon.

I think the Moon & the Stars have aligned

Mercury's In Retrograde

I was talking to my good friend, Snarkypants, the other day. Asking her why all my girlfriends were calling me with fucking emergencies all of a sudden.
"Mercury's in retrograde," she said, matter-of-factly.
"What the hell does that mean?" I replied.
"It means you should be snuggling with your boyfriend next to a fire."

At first I'm sure I had a scrunched up, puzzled expression on my face, because I just didn't get it.
I just have no understanding of the moon and the stars and Mercury, and I have no clue what retrograde means.

Then I realized that two nights before, I'd done just that. My boyfriend and I, at a party, snuggled under my poncho next to a bonfire. He actually came running over to me and asked me to lift up my poncho so he could stick his head up through the neck hole, fitting both of us into my garment like Siamese Twins. It was cozy.

Guess everything's just the way it's supposed to be

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Pardon My French

Note: I'm ripping this post off of my old blog. It's one of the only ones that seems appropriate to post here, because it's actually based on a simple fantasy about the type of man I wanted in my future. Although it wasn't based on a real person at the time, that fantasy has become a reality, and the future is now the present. So...well, here it is:

I wrote a poem.
Musings on a potential future lover.
No one in particular.
Just where my mind went while I was in the Safeway produce aisle a few days ago.
I translated it into French, using Babelfish.
Then I translated it back into English.

Translated Into French:
Quand je suis au magasin d'épicerie et les fraises ont lieu dans la saison, je pense à sélectionner les baies les plus rouges et les plus mûres et les alimenter à mon amoureux dans le lit.

Quand c'est un beau jour, je pense à la façon dont gentil il devrait s'étendre dans un pré, faisant une sieste avec mon amoureux, et lisant des livres ensemble.

Une nuit claire, je pense au sujet de ce que serait il comme au stargaze de mon baquet chaud, et contemple l'univers, les bras de mon amoureux enroulés autour de moi.

La nuit quand je vais dormir, j'allume mon côté gauche, et imagine mon amoureux derrière moi, m'embrassant, mettant en forme de tasse mon sein dans une main, le reste de nos doigts et des jambes entertwined, peu embrasse décorer mon cou.

Translated Back To English:
When I am with the store of grocer and the cutters take place in the season, I think of selecting the reddest bays and ripest and of feeding them with my in love in the bed.

When it is one fine day, I think of the way in which nice it should extend in pre, making a nap with my in love, and reading books together.

One night clear, I think about what it as with the stargaze of my hot bucket would be, and contemplates the universe, the arms of my in love rolled up around me.

The night when I will sleep, I light my left side, and imagines my in love behind me, embracing, formatting of cup my centre in a hand to me, the remainder of our fingers and legs entertwined, little embraces to decorate my neck.

When I am outside with friends, I imagine that my in love is with us, an arm draped above my shoulder, according to the conversation and the laughter, and leaving me sip on his beer. I imagine my in love to seize my jacket of the back of the chair and to whisper in my ear, "love of I your friends, but leave suits us between in the bed."

I think of suction on his lower lip. To slightly run my fingers in bottom of its chest under its button of belly, but above its buckled hair and to intend its breath to catch. I imagine to draw his hair right, and to leave fingerprints on my in love behind.

Monday, October 13, 2008

That's What Girlfriends Are For

Just One More Reason Why I Love This Guy:

I don't even remember why I brought it up.
I was just telling him a story, about something that happened to me last week, about a guy from my past who contacted me out of the blue, and how I felt about that.
Me, I'm a girl, just talking the way we talk, about long-ago feelings and things.
Him, he's a guy. He's imagining me kissing this dude. Imagining me imagining myself kissing this dude.

He listened, we talked for a few minutes about it, and then he just got up, gave me a kiss, took me by the shoulders and said, "Baby, this is the kind of thing you should be talking to your girlfriends about."

It's not that I can't talk to him about anything; I can. Fact is, there are some things that he would rather not have to hear about, but he understands my need to get it off my chest. And he directs me to the people best qualified to listen to me talk about stuff like ex-boyfriends and pap smears and junk. Because that's what girlfriends are for.

Thursday, October 9, 2008

What Do You Wanna Be When You Grow Up?

Lofty Dreams
I was discussing the possibility of a career change with my boyfriend.
Not my career, his.
Because, although you'd think my glamorous job in radio would surround me with enough ego and drama to runneth my cup over, it doesn't. But his job building a turning lane on Highway 140 for a big road construction company is filled with drama, drama, drama. And he's kind of tired of it.
I said, "What do you think you'd like to do if you quit your job?"
"I think I'd like to go back to school and get a degree in art so I could teach wood carving," he replied. And then, a mere moment later, he said, "Or I'd like to be a professional football player or a fireman!"

Monday, September 22, 2008


Recently, I called my boyfriend a dork.

I love that I can call him that, without him getting all offended and holding a grudge against me for 8 or 14 years.  I love that he can laugh and then casually come up with a line that really should be on his own line of t-shirts:

Who Needs Sleep?

Last night, as my sweet boyfriend was on his 3 hour drive back home, he called me to tell me that he missed me already.
I told him that one of the things I truly miss during the week, when he's up in Oregon (building the most incredible biceps I've ever seen) working hard on creating a turn lane on Highway 140, is sleeping next to him in bed. Spooning. And the forking ain't bad either, just so ya know.
Cue the laugh track. I need one, because I'm not really all that funny, or very original. In fact, I got that spooning/forking joke from a greeting card I found at Walgreens a few days ago. But what Eddie said in response to me getting a bit melancholy about not having him next to me in bed during the week was just beautiful.
"Oh baby," he said. "When I'm with you, sleeping is just a waste of time."

Tompkinese Part 1

My boyfriend is the best boyfriend in the world.

Honest, I mean it.

He has a peculiar way of talking, but it doesn't hamper his ability to communicate effectively. In fact, sometimes it actually succinctly enables him to say the right thing even though it's not what he meant to say.
For example, the other day he was chastising me for being naughty.
Yes, that kind of naughty.
He said, "You're ENCOURAGEABLE."
I knew he meant to say that I was incorrigible.
But to tell you the truth, telling me that I was "Encourageable" was far more appropriate for our situation. Because really, if I'm encouraged, who knows what I might be talked into.

Main Entry:
in·cor·ri·gi·ble           Listen to the pronunciation of incorrigible
\(ˌ)in-ˈkȯr-ə-jə-bəl, -ˈkär-\
Middle English, from Late Latin incorrigibilis, from Latin in- + corrigere to correct — more at correct
14th century
: incapable of being corrected or amended: as (1): not reformable : depraved (2): delinquent b:not manageable : unruly c: unalterable , inveterate
— in·cor·ri·gi·bil·i·ty           Listen to the pronunciation of incorrigibility \-ˌkȯr-ə-jə-ˈbi-lə-tē, -ˌkär-\ noun
— incorrigible noun
— in·cor·ri·gi·ble·ness           Listen to the pronunciation of incorrigibleness \-ˈkȯr-ə-jə-bəl-nəs, -ˈkär-\ noun
— in·cor·ri·gi·bly           Listen to the pronunciation of incorrigibly \-blē\ adverb