Mad Love

"Unless it is mad, passionate, extraordinary love, it is a waste of time. There are too many mediocre things in life: Love should not be one of them."

I am in love. This is the first and last time I will ever be in love. I thought I was in love before, but it turns out that there is no possible way I could have been. Not after meeting Phil. He is undeniably the most perfect man that I have ever had the joy of knowing.

Phil is amazing because he takes me as I am. I'm forgetful; he says it's cute. I'm loud; he gets entertained. I'm feisty; he loves it. I'm opinionated; he is interested in what I have to say. For some reason, he can never get enough of me, and I have never had that before. I am never an inconvenience to him, and he always says I am his #1 priority. He takes care of me and makes sure that my needs and wants are met every second of every day.

There are so many things I love about Phil. He is kind, caring, generous, loving, tender, funny, smart, decisive, manly, sensitive, stubborn, rebellious, independent, relaxed, easygoing, genuine, honest and passionate. There is so much more about him, but there are never enough words to describe him. He is without a doubt the most perfect man for me. He understands me and appreciates me, and I couldn't ask for anyone better than him.

The distance between us is a challenge, but it doesn't stop us from having the best relationship we can have. Technology is a blessing and a curse, but it enables us to connect each night, if only for just a little while. If anything, we see a little bit of how the other lives, and we get a glimpse of what's in store when the day comes for us to be our own family. We are both coming from bad relationships, and have talked about our shared newfound passion for life, and how we just want to live and enjoy it. However, I just have to say that if he asked me to marry him today, I would say yes without a second thought. He makes me want to be a better person and live a better life, and I can't imagine another second without him. He is my best friend, my partner in crime, my biggest fan and my most loyal supporter. I love him with every fiber of my being and am the luckiest woman in the world to have him.

Our love is definitely mad, passionate and extraordinary. Good things definitely come to those of us who wait. I've certainly waited long enough and I have reaped the greatest reward. Phil Towers, you are my one and only. I love you with every beat of my heart, every breath of my lungs, every blink of my eyes and every step of my feet. You are my purpose. I am happier than I have ever been and ever will be, and I can't wait to spend forever with you.

Field Day

My fifth grade year was one of the most influential years of my life. I had my first male elementary school teacher. The rumor was that he was gay. Of course I bought into it, but I can't sit here and tell you that I fully understood what gay was -- what 11-year-old can? I learned that drugs were bad, thanks to the DARE program. I started learning Spanish from Senora Calvert. I learned that Student Council elections were nothing more than a popularity contest. But of all the things I learned, the biggest lesson was how evil people could be. The human condition has always fascinated me to an extent. At one point, I considered studying psychology, but then decided I didn't want to get bogged down listening to other people bitch and moan about how their mother screwed up their lives on a daily basis. So, I turned to English instead. That way, if I become overwhelmed by literary figures bitching and moaning, all I have to do is close the book.

There was a girl in class named Amanda. She was not popular, and I admit there was a little weirdness about her (especially after I saw her eat ketchup on pizza), but nonetheless, she was a nice girl who never set out to hurt anyone. She was often the butt of the jokes of the cool kids, the victim of relentless teasing and merciless bullying. But there is one day that I will never forget, as long as I live. I still get choked up thinking about it. It has stuck with me for 20 years, and it will stick with me forever.

One day in class, our teacher left the room. I do not remember the circumstances surrounding his absence, but it doesn't matter -- not compared to what happened to Amanda. Tony and April inflicted the most pain upon her. To be honest, some of the events of that day are a blur now. It started with someone who had some disappearing ink....you know, one of those gag gifts where you squirt the ink onto someone, give them a second to freak out from the irreparable stain, then give them another second to discover that it disappears. All good fun, right? Someone thought it would be funny to start squirting people with this ink; namely Amanda. Now, not only was this going to affect her, but it was going to affect the three of us who sat with her at the table: me, Ashley and Alecia.

They started nit-picking on her: tugging her hair, poking on her shoulder opposite the side they were standing, tapping her hand while she wrote so that it would mark up her paper...little nuisances like that. Well, she reacted just the way they expected her to. She started getting upset and asked them repeatedly to quit, obviously to no avail. They proceeded to become more abrasive in their attacks. Tony came up behind her, pulled her hair and then hocked a loogy in it. Amanda's face was flushed and soaking wet with tears. She could hardly catch a breath she was so traumatized. Personally, I thought the worst was over, and that someone would step in and save her soon. Boy, did I underestimate my classmates. That is exactly the moment that Tony did something I never thought anyone would have the audacity to do. He came around her and blew a spinning sidekick right into her left side. Full force. It knocked the wind out of her and knocked her straight out of her desk. The look of horror on her face is what I see every time I think about this day. Shock, terror, pain, anguish, sadness...all in that one look. I think we caught eyes for a millisecond. That is the first time I realized I could feel other people's pain. I felt what she felt. I was in tears for her. I was humiliated with her.

Finally, somehow, our teacher made his way back. It was obvious that a coup had just occurred, so we were asked what the hell was going on. The room was silent for a moment. The culprits weren't about to tell on themselves, and the rest of us were afraid to tell on them, fearing that we might be victims of retaliation. My friend Ashley and I looked at one another and decided that we were going to try and make it right. We spoke up for Amanda. We told. It wasn't long before the principal came into our classroom and demanded that we call out the guilty parties. We were empowered enough that we did not fear any repercussions. We told our principal who did what while she listened intently. I was glad to see she wanted to get to the bottom of this incident, but was shocked with her reply. I wish I could remember what she said verbatim, but I only remember the consequence itself. No Field Day. Okay, I'll say that again. No Field Day. Their only consequence was that their privilege of participating in the school's all-day recess be reneged? No parent conferences? No write-up slips? No detention? No writing assignment? NO APOLOGY?? Just no Field Day...

I suppose that did scare them a little since they were among the most athletic students in school, but it hardly seems like justice was served for poor Amanda, especially since the reneged privilege was de-reneged. Yeah, the principal took back her take back and allowed the kids to participate in Field Day fater all. I don't know if those students ever thought about what they did, or if it ever lay on their conscience. I don't know if they feel remorse or if they wish they could apologize to her. I don't even know if they remember that day. When I taught and saw kids being bullied, the memory of that day re-enters my mind. I will probably never understand what went through the heads of those kids; honestly, I have given up trying. Some things just happen -- good things to bad people and bad things to good people -- and that's just the way it is.

Mom's Happy Day

I was almost born on the freeway. That's what my parents told me, anyway. I began kicking myself out of my placental cocoon, ready to face the world head on. Well, arm on...I was sideways. Finally, at 4:15 p.m. on October 22, 1981, Jennifer Robin Pryor became a new population statistic. I have a picture of my mom holding me, her firstborn. I can only imagine what was going through her head at that very moment. She's wearing a big, open-mouthed grin. She is happy. I'm sure there are probably women who think, "What the fuck have I done?" or "God, I hope I don't screw up this kid like my mom screwed me up." My mom never thought that -- about any of her three children. She knew we deserved the clean slate to which we were entitled. I am grateful to her for that. We were allowed to come into the world open-minded. She showed us the difference between right and wrong, which is the only foundation you really need in life.

If there's one thing I can say about my mom, it's that she has always supported me, unconditionally. She has not always agreed with me, that's for sure, but she has certainly always given me an open ear and an open heart and a kind word to help ease the pain. No matter the antics I and my siblings have pulled, she has always kept her door open to us and given us shelter and nurtured us. She has shared in our laughter and our tears, our joys and our pains, our bad haircuts, puberty, bad relationships, marriage, divorce....you name it. Now I live back at home with my mother while I go through my divorce, and it's like Sophia and Dorothy from The Golden Girls. We have our moments of banter and unnerving one another; but for the most part it's not so bad.

My mom isn't the sappy, pearlized-roses-on-the-front-of-the-card type; she's the get-to-the-point type..and the point had better be worth her listening. So, in the true spirit of my own mother, here are some Yo Momma jokes.

Yo momma so dumb she thinks a quarterback is a refund.

Yo momma so dumb she put lipstick on her head to make up her mind.

Yo momma so ugly when she tried to take a bath, the water jumped out.

Yo momma so fat, her nickname is DAY-UM.

Yo momma so old, her birth certificate says expired on it.

Happy Mother's Day, y'all.

May Days

May the 4th be with you. Yes, most of us know it's Star Wars Day. When I taught, I would tell my students, "Metaphors be with you." I still chuckle when I hear that.

We know there's Cinco de Mayo, Mother's Day, and the Kentucky Derby during the month of May; but those are pretty ordinary. I have brought you some of May's not-so-ordinary (or extraordinary, depending on which way you look at it) observances.

1) Stepmother's Day -- I didn't even know such a day existed. I'm guessing you didn't, either.

2) National Play Your Ukelele Day -- because everyone has a spare ukelele in their closet.

3) National Special-abled Pet Day -- Okay, this one makes sense to me; I have a 3-legged dog. Don't judge me.

4) Great American Grumpout -- For the percentage who don't celebrate Star Wars Day.

5) Occupational Health & Safety Health Professionals' Day -- yeah, so they can have the day off from all the drunkards celebrating Mexico.

6) National Day to Prevent Teen Pregnancy AND No Pants Day -- 'nuff said.

7) National Babysitter's Day -- Lucky for you guys, it's on a Saturday this year. Celebrate by watching my kids.

8) No Socks Day -- I guess this isn't too far off....I mean, I AM in Kentucky, after all.

9) Mothers at the Wall Day -- I hope they mean the Wal-Mart, otherwise I have no idea what they mean.

10) Windmill Day -- Can't leave the windmills out.

11) Eat What You Want Day -- Okay, I think I will. Since I do everyday anyway.

12) National Nutty Fudge Day -- oh, boy.....I can see the toilet bowl prank photos now....

13) Blame Someone Else Day -- Now you actually have an excuse for placing ill blame.

14) National Chicken Dance Day -- Yesssssssss. Bust it out.

15) Nylon Stockings Day -- In May?! Are you kidding?!

16) Biographer's Day -- Salute those who dare to delve into the lives of others.

17) World Hypertension Day -- Perfect excuse to explain being stressed out.

18) Visit Your Relatives Day -- Hell no.

19) Boys Club Day -- for all you boys who still have clubs.

20) Mike the Headless Chicken Day -- You just have to read it for yourself: www.miketheheadlesschicken.org/story.php

21) I Need a Patch For that Day -- Ya got one for that hole in your head?

22) Neighbor Day -- Go ahead, let them have that cup of sugar instead of just borrow it.

23) National Taffy Day -- Yum.

24) Brother's Day -- Wow. I didn't know this one existed, either.

25) Towel Day -- Yep. Just the way it sounds. You wear a towel (preferably over your clothes.)

26) Scripps' National Spelling Bee -- I LIVE for this moment. EUONYM!

27) Cellophane Tape Day AND National Wig Out Day -- I have no words.

28) International Jazz Day -- Finally one worth something.

29) Rural Life Sunday Day -- Actually pronounced "Sundee."

30) Loomis Day -- The first wireless communication.

31) World No-Tobacco Day -- uhhhh, yeah right. No backer? Fraid not.

There are so many others, but too many to list in one place. Happy May, everyone.

It's Not A Mistaken Identity

It's Derby Week. The Derby Festival is in half force, thanks to the flooding this year. The Steamboat Race has been postponed, the Balloon Glow was moved to a less-than-mediocre location, and nobody can tell me where the Chow Wagon is. Nonetheless, the Kentucky Derby is a staple of identity for the city. Everyone needs something to make them unique, quirky, individual...everyone needs to know what makes them special to someone else. As cliche as it may sound, everyone needs to know where they came from so they know where to go. Tonight, I'll share a poem I wrote in college; it describes my humble upbringings and gives the scope of my roots here.

Luhvul

I am from mint juleps and jockey silks.

The Ohio River is the great divide where I'm from.

I am from the suburban ghetto,

my house covered in eggshells and BB holes.

I am from a hard-working father who held two jobs

and applied for welfare so I could have a stay-at-home mother.

I am from Sunday drives to the Pigeon Run store,

feeding the ducks at McNeeley Lake,

playing Frisbee golf at Iroquois Park.

I am from the place where mom glared down from the choir loft

if my siblings and I were having too much fun during Brother Don's sermon.

I am from a place where we eat ham and turkey for Thanksgiving.

It's a place where my mom, aunt and grandma made their holiday sweatshirts

with glitter paint and festive fabric cut-outs.

I am from Wiffle ball at family barbecues,

kickball on the playground and T-ball at church.

I am from the Pinewood Derby.

Two weeks of sculpting and creating and anticipating

for five seconds of splendor and angst.

I am from a Redbirds game on a clear Saturday night.

I am from a catalpa tree that was so much more:

first base, a swing set, a jungle gym.

I am from Luhvul. That's right, Luhvul.

Always Up For A Good Partisan

So we all know by now that Osama bin Laden is dead. Some Navy SEALS blew up his crib and shot him in the face. Sure, that brings some justice to the attacks he orchestrated against the United States, but I don't see how it can bring peace to those who lost loved ones during those times. Everyone has their own opinion (including myself) of how they think things could have been done better/quicker/more efficiently/smarter...whatever. But the bottom line is that bin Laden can no longer mastermind any other attack against the world. The best way to deal with the past is to learn from it and apply what we learn to our future. Retrospect is always 20/20, and no matter which way we roll the dice, there will always be a shoulda-woulda-coulda.

Even President Obama openly recognized the differences in political opinion in this matter, and so in an effort to bring a little light-heartedness to such a heavy situation, I thought I would leave you with a little joke about politics and religion.....

********************************************************************************************

A Republican in a wheelchair entered a restaurant one afternoon and asked the waitress for a cup of coffee. The Republican looked across the restaurant and asked, "Is that Jesus sitting over there?" The waitress nodded "yes," so the Republican requested that she give Jesus a cup of coffee, on him.

The next patron to come in was a Libertarian with a hunched back. He shuffled over to a booth, painfully sat down and asked the waitress for a cup of hot tea. He also glanced across the restaurant and asked, "Is that Jesus over there?" The waitress nodded, so the Libertarian asked her to give Jesus a cup of hot tea, "My treat."

The third patron to come into the restaurant was a Democrat on crutches. He hobbled over to a booth, sat down and hollered, "Hey there, honey! How's about gettin' me a cold glass of Miller Light?" He, too, looked across the restaurant and asked, "Is that God's boy over there?" The waitress once more nodded, so the Democrat directed her to give Jesus a cold glass of beer. "On my bill," he said.

As Jesus got up to leave, he passed by the Republican, touched him and said, "For your kindness, you are healed." The Republican felt the strength come back into his legs, got up, and danced a jig out the door.

Jesus also passed by the Libertarian, touched him and said, "For your kindness, you are healed." The Libertarian felt his back straightening up, and he raised his hands, praised the Lord and did a series of back flips out the door.

Then, Jesus walked towards the Democrat. The Democrat jumped up and yelled, "Don't touch me...I'm collecting disability."

********************************************************************************************