EAT DESSERT FIRST

It's really gonna fly after tonight.

Talkin' about what is left of Daniel's senior year.

Tonight is his last Dessert Theatre.  An evening of chocolate, music, speech, laughter and tears.

Not even gonna bother wearing mascara.

And then, after tonight, April will zoom past with track meets and May will bring Daniel's final spring music concert --  always a tear jerker -- and then, BOOM!  G Day.

Graduation.

Gulp.

Must not get ahead of myself, though.

First, CRB Dessert Theatre 2011.

A most wonderful night where first we will all eat yummy homemade desserts in the gym-turned-fancy- bistro,  and then we will settle into our seats in the auditorium to watch our kids sing and dance and give their winning speech performances.

Yet it is so much more than a night of dining on sugar and watching our kids perform.

Dessert Theatre is a great lesson in life.

Reminds me of that old adage -- one of my faves -- "Life is uncertain. Eat dessert first."

Which one, which one...

With Dessert Theater, as in life, you are faced with decisions, you never really know what to expect, and it's always wise to carry a Kleenex.

Dozens of different mouth-watering desserts -- which one (or ones) to choose?

A plethora of stellar performances laden with happiness and tears.

I've always joked, albeit darkly, that our Dessert Theatre is really an evening designed for the manic depressive, which is probably why I love it so.

One minute I'm gorging on sugar, then smiling, laughing, and tapping my swollen feet to a jaunty musical number.  The next minute -- when the sugar high subsides and the sugar low hits -- I am weeping and gnashing my teeth to a particularly heart-wrenching speech.  Or a melancholy song brings tears to my eyes moments after a lighthearted monologue.

Yes, the CRB Dessert Theatre is always an AWESOME three-hour emotional roller coaster.

And I haven't missed one in all the years we've lived here.

A Dessert Theatre natural

My sister-in-law, Deb, is the vocal music director, and she brings out the singing talent in all our kids. I remember going to Dessert Theatre with my mother-in-law back in like '96, thinking I sure hoped Dessert Theater would still be going on by the time Daniel was in high school.

Still going on, indeed.

Little did I know then that not only would he do well in music, but  he would shine in large group speech, too. And he would have a passion for film making, and his short film, "All Was Silent" would get perfect marks at the state high school speech contest his senior year.

And now, here it is.

Daniel's last Dessert Theatre.

Oy.

Hoping there is plenty of Better Than Sex Cake to go around.

Praying no one sings Danny Boy.

Dear God, it is so hard to let go.

IMAGINE

Today is A Day of Peace.

Hope you will join in. Maybe if enough of us make this concerted effort, the world will enjoy more than just one day of tranquility and human kindness.

According to founder Stephen Danger Shoemaker, just three simple rules to follow today:

Rule #1.
Say not a single unkind thing about anyone or anything. If at all possible, try not to even think a nasty thought. If we do, reflect on why it was that we thought to say it in the first place.

Rule #2.
Show everyone we cross paths with some genuine human compassion. Be it with a smile or kind words, just spread some love.

Rule #3.
Make not one person the exception to the rule. Not everyone deserves to have roses thrown at their feet and have a holiday in their honor, but nobody deserves to feel alone. Reach out. Talk to someone new. Care about them, and we will be cared for in return.


Imagine all the people living life in peace.


Even if only for one day.


Take care.

THE CARPENTER AND THE WRITER

Once upon a March 4th dreary
Two folks pondered, weak and weary,
How love had mistreated them thus far
And soothed their loneliness at a local eatery.

I know.

The words "far" and "eatery" don't rhyme.

But is it really wise to splash across the blogosphere that my husband and I met 31 years ago today at a bar?

Granted, it was 1980. Rural Iowa. I was a news reporter.  He was a construction worker. The local tap was where people went to unwind after a long day's work.

I was there chillin' with a couple news reporter pals, and John was playing pool with his best friend, Les.  

Anyway...

He, a carpenter, strong and able,
Happened by the writer's table
Where she, an ornery but kindhearted lass,
Spilled gallons of tears into her glass.


Shoulda been a red flag for John. But love at first sight is often blind.



He had noticed from across the room
That a phonecall, indeed, had caused her gloom.
Guessing what it had been about
He simply said, "He's not worth the pout."


We didn't have cell phones back in the old days.  Apparently he had spied me standing at the nearby payphone earlier.  I know. I know. One should never call their ex-boyfriend after a toddy or two. But I was young and naive.

Slowly, the writer gazed up at him --
Longish hair, wire glasses, slim;
In an instant she recognized his face!
He was her cute neighbor!  Her heart did race!

John was also wearing his Army jacket. Combined with the wire rims, he reminded me a little bit of Radar O'Reilly from MASH.  So earnest. Well-meaning.  And from Iowa, to boot.

Suffice to say, this Cincinnati Kid was immediately smitten.

A couple of Cokes the carpenter ordered.
They bared their souls 'bout past relationships assorted.
Each had played love's game and lost,
Both tired of the battles' cost.


Cue Pat Benatar's "Love Is A Battlefield".

The hour grew late; the clock struck two;
A bond had formed like Crazy Glue.
Made a date for the next day as they departed.
Bloom in love, and oh, so lighthearted.

Three years later to the day,
The couple celebrates in their favorite way.
They toast their meeting, their friendship, their life.
He, her husband; she, his wife.


"Three" is not a typo.  I originally penned this poem 28 years ago.

Needs a little updating as to how we now observe our anniversary of the day we met.  Goes something like this:

Thirty one years later to the day

The couple would celebrate but they can't stay awake.
She's bloggin' on the 'puter; he's making sure the dishes are clean.
Tonight he'll be firing up the CPAP machine.


Original ending:

The bond holds strong, so goes the lore.
"Will it last?" some folks ask.
Quoth the carpenter and the writer,
"Evermore."


Current spin:

It's been a long three decades
Since the day we met.
Does the bond still hold strong?
Quoth the carpenter and the writer,
"Like shoes of cement."


But in a good way, right honey?

Love, Bunny.

THE LOVE OF MY LIFE

My son turns 18 today.

So many emotions.

Thankful.

Happy.

Proud.

A little teary.

Oh, who am I kidding...more than a little teary.  But not sobbing. Yet.

Random thought:  I loved being pregnant.  Just wish I didn't still look like I am about to give birth.

Eighteen years ago today, at this moment, I was at the hospital, dilated two centimeters and thinking childbirth wasn't so bad and I could go thru it all without an epidural.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Eighteen years ago today, at this moment, I was the most "nested" a pregnant woman could be.

Baby clothes Drefted and waiting.  All but alphabatized.

House ship shape.  You could eat off my basement floor.

It was the last time I was organized.

I'd read all the "Everything You Need To Know About" books on pregnancy, childbirth, the newborn months, the toddler  years.

There's a reason that series of books stopped at  the toddler years:

There is no one on God's green earth that knows everything there is to know about raising teenagers.

Thought I was ready, come what may.

But no one is really ever fully prepared for parenthood.

Or for how fast the years fly.

Swiftly fly the years, indeed

A whirling merry go round.

Joypainlaughtertears.

And from the moment I first saw him, the second he was born, I knew...

Absolutely the love of my life.

Wow. Eighteen.

Too big to carry in my arms.

But forever in my heart.