E: I don’t like it up here
J: At least it’s not windy
T: Are there more people getting on?

My back was to the city, we were suspended some 500 yards above ground.

J: I don’t know, I’m not turning around to look down.
T: Your brother would never do this. He hates heights.
J: So do I.
E: Me too.

T. stood up and leaned over the edge to see if more people were getting on the ferris wheel as the cart began to shake.

E. grabbed the side and said with a wry smile, “ Oh geeez.”
T: I can’t tell.

The cart we were riding in rolled to the top and stopped.

E: Oh great now we’re going to be stuck at the top.
T: I can’t believe how nice the city looks at night.
J: I know, no one does this. It’s the perfect date thing to do.
T: Didn’t you and Mom do this when she came down.
J: Yeah, when I “accidentally” got Mom drunk at a wine tasting.
T: And she threw up:
E: Dad won’t let her live that down.

We were finally doing something we had been putting off for months. A child was getting sick or I was busy. Enough was enough. We planned the night for my sister-in-law to pick up my younger sister and leave their husbands to tie up the kids in a room while they played online poker and drank whisky.

It really was the best date for a Thursday, frankly there’s no place I would rather have been than with them. We went for sushi and upside down cake pineapple martin’s, rode the ferris wheel, a stop at a clothing boutique bar downtown, and ended with a little shake your rump dance time.

The night ended as predicted with a kiss on the cheek and, “I’ll call you tomorrow about your brother’s day we’re not going to talk about.”

WHATEVER!

MY OLDEST BROTHER’S BIRTHDAY IS SUNDAY.

I’m still running the half marathon on Sunday, only I forgot to register and had to scram looking for someone who registered but isn’t able to run it due to injury. I’m running under someone whose last name I can’t even pronounce. I haven’t ran all week, Sunday’s going to hurt. It’ll hurt my brother more.

Thanks for letting me borrow your wife last night N. and Happy early Birthday. I’ll see you Sunday afternoon; I’ll be the one crawling on the floor asking you to hand me an Amstel Light and a heating pad.

Honestly, I don’t know how I ever got by without text messaging.

I’ve been holding on to memories and catch phrases like a child that can’t stop sucking her thumb. They are my photographs in a private collection tucked neatly away for rainy days and mudslides.
The details of a moment and the metaphysics of happenstance one’s mind chooses to remember are as confusing as Kevin Federline getting a record deal (explain that one to me).

Time passes quickly while heart stopping moments are replaced by another as the sand drains from the hourglass. I choose to hold on to moments past and step into a time machine longing to relive their greatness. The way she tossed her hair, how he shook the sweetener to the bottom of the packet, a gentle tap with his ring in the midst of our conversation, a line from a movie where we both turned and laughed uncontrollably, a verse in a song we sing by heart.

It’s during these insignificant moments where it’s just the two of us. The world moves into the background. Loud and obnoxious it soars in the distance. Yet, I hear only your laughter, see only your smile, and let your words make a mark on my heart retaining the splice of time.

Wednesday afternoon I sat silently waiting for my appointment neither happy nor sad, just bored. My phone began to chirp when the text came through,

What are you, the Flying Nun?

Instantly my eyes lit up as a peep escaped my lips causing several to noticeably shift in their seats. Shooting back to my childhood friend, I replied,

Holy Shit it’s the attack of Eddie Monster.

Text messages can act as a tunicate to move from grey polluted city skies to a Tiki bar in Maui - the messaged mood lifter. Ragged one liners mean nothing to an outsider. To those on the inside of the joke, they are old Hollywood black and white simplicity, uncontrollable laughter, and a rebel yell while you’re waiting for an appointment between the hours of nine to five.

Go ahead. Reach out and text someone.

It’s fear. Genuine heart-stopping fear.

We’ve all have had those moments in our lives when a short statement, event, sideways glance, or child like smile seem to make our heart stop. You feel the flutter and a literal burst of your chest as your palms begin to sweat.

I’ve been waking in the middle of the night unable to fall back asleep because I’m afraid my heart will stop beating and I won’t wake up. This fear is everything about being irrational. It hovers at the edge of my delirium, like a creature in a child’s nightmare waiting to pounce. As irrational as this fear is I know it has a cause and perhaps the only way to discover it is to Google.

Google = Fear of heart stopping – no definition only the phrase listed multiple ways.

Heart stopping conclusion
Heart stopping fear
Heart stopping brilliance
Heart stopping moments
Heart stopping conclusion
Heart stopping suspense
Heart stopping matter
Heart stopping conclusion
Heart stopping encounter

Get to the heart of stopping your problem.

It’s been making a clamp around my heart in the middle of the night tightening with each breath. I wake to sheets wrapped tightly around my waist and damp with sweat. My heart pounding with a force that would cause men to declare war. It’s a sense of feeling someone is hovering, watching, and waiting to hit the off switch.

In the dead of night I lay still feeling my nightmares etch an imprint on my dreams of tomorrow.

This fear is not unwarranted – several friends and family have passed in the dead of night with no flares warning an impeding danger. An Uncle in his 40’s, a Grandfather who lived through 13 heart attacks. The man of strong will lived through 13 heart attacks. No wonder my Father goes to the gym 6 days a week, rarely eats red meat, has rode multiple MS150’s, and drinks a glass of red wine …for his heart.

Waking in the black of night is a new occurance. My heart is strong. Three marathons, countless miles on my road bike (hundreds w/my father), and more trips to the gym then I can multiply on fingers and toes. I’ve mentally and physically moved from my past which could be the basis of the barricaded waking nightmare. Why now, at this stage in my life have I been waking at hours only 3rd shift workers and drug addicts know unable to revisit Mr. Sandman?

As I write this, it hits me. Sometimes the truth gets you like that. You realize all your super powers have been warranted defenseless against what you already know. I don’t like to admit standing still or going backwards, I suspect it’s time for a sassy change.

Or my trouble stems from hearing my Brothers singing,
“One Two Freddy’s Coming For You. Three Four better lock the door.”

It’s one of those diaglogues from a movie that sticks with you - the movie Untamed Heart.

Adam: I wonder if you think about me.
Caroline: Of course I think about you!
Adam: I wasn’t finished!
Caroline: Finish.

Anyone who knows me in real life can attest to the fact that I am a strong personality. I am loud. Even before the new-and-improved-me, and especially after, I am pretty aggressive when it comes to all of my relationships — friends, family, romantic interests, take no prisoners.

The problem with this, while it forms great bonds with some people, I think I have a strong tendency to scare others off. I don’t play games, and I don’t try to play it cool. Ever. If I want to talk to you, I’ll contact you. If I just sent you an email five minutes ago, but have something more to say, I’ll send another one.

There are other people who, when you reply to an email from them, won’t email back for days. Days or weeks mind you! I just don’t understand that — if you are busy or something once in a while, it’s understandable. I’ve played that card a time or two myself. I think we’re all busy in this life and world we live in standing in front of microwaves and yelling hurry up. Am sure my head spun around 5 times today alone. However, when emails come from my friends/family and I’m not in a meeting or driving, I respond. Some people make it a practice to play these things out like a chess match.

I just don’t operate that way.

What I’m realizing now is that my tendency to scare people off isn’t as negative as it seems. You see, in the process of all that, I weed out the bad ones. The good ones seem to stick around.

Hi.

And who can forget when Caroline says,
“My life is like watching the Three Stooges in Spanish.”

Going Nowhere Fast

Sexy Man Ew Ew

Red Bull Really Does Give You Wings

That’s Much Better Matt

We’re Number ONE Ya’ll

Those guys have game and mad skillz.

Earth Rooster, we need more men like you who can admit their wrongs.

While cleaning up shrapnel from the tornado that terrorized my apartment this past weekend I heard a loud bang and hit the floor. I shielded my head with my arms crumpled over in the fetal position the way an extra does in a Spike Lee movie.

Two hours earlier while walking through the parking garage my neighbor across the hall stopped me and wanted to know if I heard anyone breaking into his apartment over the weekend and did anyone try to break into mine? We live in a relatively nice high rise. I’ve always felt safe because the resident cop lives two doors down, and I have a mean round house kick. Walking on splintered glass in my own head and clinging to the safety of my sanity while trying not to think of possible robberies, I was wondering why the front office had not notified the residents of said activity when;

BOOM BOOM

I hit the ground.

Nothing broke or shattered.

I have a direct view of downtown Houston from my balcony. Bright lights were shining through the blinds as the loud explosions continued.

BOOM BOOM

Fireworks?

Big city fireworks over downtown on a Tuesday?

Do it again.

** I kept waiting for an explanation on the 10:00 News, yet they did not even mention it. My two hunches

1. Celebration for Mayor Bill White’s second inauguration

2. Anticipation of UT playing in the Rose Bowl tomorrow.

Either way, nice surprise Houston. Thanks for the twinkle in my eye.

2006 began with a man carrying me up a flight of stairs, the way one does across a threshold. We abandoned a party for one more familiar. One drink and two glasses of champagne, strike that 3 glasses of champagne and I was ready for somber pastures. I could have walked on my own accord but he offered and I was flying in the air before a defiant no could escape my lips. The night as predicted, was nookie free. But there was some good spooning involved. He’s a friend so get your mind out of the gutter and remember, “I’m a lady.”

Sunday morning he sat in my apartment while I finished the final touches. We were discussing his latest break up and “what” he was looking for. I explained all of my married siblings relationships. The common theme amoung all four couples, they are friends. The parents any would be proud to have knowing fate would grant its usual hard times and their ability to sift through the mud together.

J: My oldest brother’s wife is one of my best friends. She
knows what’s going on in my life before my friends do 90 percent of the time. They are amazing parents together and know how to put the kids to bed then stay up sharing a bottle of wine talking (really talking).
C: Isn’t that great, that’s what we all want.
J: Yeah it is. I’m not painting a rose colored picture of their marriage. They fight and have had some doozies.
C: Who doesn’t?
J: Why do we live in a society where no one talks about the fights causing people to encase themselves in glass houses and Norman Rockwell photos?
C: Why do you think Desperate Housewives is so popular? (Duh)

We were then off to meet up with the best Houston has to offer, my nearest and dearest friends.

Some of our guys were there as well. We had a J. (The Perfect Gentleman), a C. (the Drummer), T. (the Hip Hop Dancer), and Cl. (Newest Edition). Three hours and five hundred dollars later, the decision was served. Hillary abandoned the groups focus turned and said,

“If this is indicative of how the year is going to be I can’t wait.”

I clinked my glass with a spoon, stood up, and made a toast. I don’t recall exactly what I said other than it ended with everyone wiping a tear and something about regardless of our small fights “We all still love each other.”

Enter dollar vodkas and yours truly being in bed by 7pm.

I woke today with that feeling of waking up in a hospital and realizing my legs were amputated. I dreamt of the faceless man last night. Casually we sat on the bed silently discussing the physics of finding a home in one another. He moved with the vivid swipe of a superhero encasing my waist with his strong arm. It was then I woke realizing it was the weight of my own arm I felt. Leaping off the couch I had fallen asleep on, I went for a jog, showered, explored the Museum of Fine Arts latest exhibit, hit up Blockbuster and the grocery store.

Anyone who knows me understands I heart John Cusack forever. He first had me when I saw the stalker movie Say Anything. Forget Matt Damon or that cheater Brad Pitt. Give me Cusack or Affleck any day and Baby I’m yours till the poets run out of rhyme. I should feel guilty for wasting the last half of a holiday indoors, especially in sunny 70 degree weather. However, Must Love Dogs is a new release. I’ve cooked vegetable spinach lasagna from scratch thank-you very much and as I sit here typing this John’s character pauses, clasps his hands, leans across the table and says,

I think your heart grows back bigger, once you get the shit beat out of you. And the universe lets your heart expand that way. I think that’s the function of all the pain and heartache that we all go through.

SWOON

Hello 2006. My pleasure to meet you. And here’s to hoping we have plenty of pleasure.