Showing posts with label non-fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label non-fiction. Show all posts

Monday, June 2, 2014

Journey's End

~**~

My faults and flaws leave cracks on the stained-glass image of God that is on my soul.  Yet... His beauty... and His truth...  remain.

**

Sister Celine...

**

"Veronica, you cannot think about it in those terms... equating two lives against one life ...and  why does the one life have more 'value', to use your word, than the two?  That only feeds a guilt that you have carried for far too long... a guilt that is not yours.  The ordeal you suffered through was not of your doing.

You were not meant to die that day, Veronica.  And you were not put on this Earth to do 'ordinary'.  But… I think that I do not have to tell you this, do I?  And with all which that ordeal took away from you, from it you have gained a strength... you have gained a courage and a determination to fulfill the purpose God has for you."

Sister Celine pauses for a moment and then continues in her French-accented English.

"The guilt that you still feel is not meant to make you suffer, but to keep you humble.  Can you understand that?

God has forgiven you... you must believe that, Veronica.  You must!"

"I know He has... I mean... I try to believe...", my voice grows tremulous.  “ I want to... I just.."  Pressing my lips tight to hold back the sob rising in my throat, I turn my head away from Sister Celine, not wanting her to see the tears threatening to spill over.  After a few moments, she reaches out... the weight of her hand on my shoulder, light as a feather, is reassuring.  Turning back to face her...

"I fear my faith is not as strong as yours, Sister Celine."

With the echo of my confession hanging in the crisp mid-morning air, I watch her face, waiting for her measure of what I have just said.

In all the weeks that I have been here at the abbey, this is the first occasion Sister Celine and I have had to talk to one another.  But despite the fact that we've really only just met, I feel that the sister knows so much about me.  It's as if she has known me for a long, long time.  I feel a connection with her, some common bond I am as yet unaware of.  And, she understands me.  It is very comforting talking to her here now.

"I would disagree.  Your faith is strong, Veronica, I sense that... I see it.  And please... I wish you no offense... but I think that you tend at times to over-intellectualize it... your faith.  I think that as adults, we all do that.  It is not wrong... it is just..."  A small frown flits across Sister Celine's face as she searches for the right word.  "... non nécessaire?

Listen to your heart, Veronica.  Listen to it with the faith of a child.  And know that our Father loves you as He loves all of His children.  Beyond measure."

*

I stare down at my hands resting in my lap, the silver infinity ring a reminder of the life I have left behind.  I think about what Sister Celine has said.  I can feel the weight of her gaze on me, watching... waiting.  But, uncharacteristically for me, no words will come.

Gradually, I become aware of a sensation... a feeling, but not... something that I haven't experienced for a long time.  And there is something else... just at the edge of that awareness.  I think I have...

"Sister, do you thi...?"  My voice falters as I look up.  The space on the bench beside me is empty, save for the small bunch of winter flowers Sister Celine had been holding.  I stand up and look around the abbey courtyard.  She is gone.

"Sister?  Sister Celine!"  I call out, forgetting in the moment a cardinal rule at the abbey... 'quiet voices'.  A familiar shiver courses down my spine.

A chill has settled over the courtyard again, seeping through the heavy fabric of the novice's habit I have worn since arriving at the abbey.  More rain is on the way; one can smell it in the air.  I hurry back inside.  I have kitchen duty this week and the lunch hour will soon be upon us.

**

Revelation

**

That evening at dinner I do not see Sister Celine in the dining hall.  When I ask Sister Catherine, seated next to me, about Sister Celine, recounting our earlier conversation in the courtyard, the room goes completely still, the soft murmur of many voices fades to silence, and everyone's eyes rest on me.  It is several long moments before I can speak.

"I'm sorry.  Did I do something wrong?"  I cast a worried look at the abbess, who is seated at the head of the long table.  She turns to Sister Abigail and says something I can't quite make out.  The sister stands and leaves the room.  Abbess turns back to me.  Her voice is gentle, but firm.

"Come here, child... sit with me."

Silence hangs over the room as we wait.  Sister Abigail returns shortly and places a large hand-stitched binder on the table in front of the abbess.

After what seems an eternity, the silence in the room punctuated only by the soft swish of turning pages and the rustle of old paper, Abbess stops and removes a small square of paper from one of the pages.  She places the piece of paper on the table's smooth, worn surface and slides it in front of me.  It is a black and white photograph... a very, very old one... of a young woman in a nun's habit.  The woman in the photograph is Sister Celine.  I turn to the abbess, my eyes holding the question that my lips cannot seem to form.

"This is the woman you saw today... the woman you spoke with... in the courtyard?"  Abbess says the words very carefully.

"Yes, Abbess, it is.  But... this picture is very old.  I do not understand."

"Turn the photograph over, child."

Turning the small square over, I see that there is writing on the back... very faded, barely legible, the ink brown with age.  I look up.  Abbess' head moves in a slight nod.  I have to squint to read the notation.

"Sister Marie Celine D'Cambrille... born 23 August, eighteen...."

My voice trails off and I feel my heart catch in my chest.  I look up at the abbess.  There is a shadow of sadness in her grey-blue eyes when she speaks.

"... eighteen eighty-three."  A pause... a sigh as she recites from memory.

"Died 17 May, in the year of our Lord one thousand nine hundred and seven."

Tears well up in my eyes as the full import of the day's events settles in my brain.  A dervish of thoughts and emotions swirl around inside my head... it's too much to process.  I am only dimly aware of Abbess helping me up from the table and leading me out of the dining hall.

~*~

The soft glow of candlelight and the warm, comforting scents of the chapel bring back the earlier peace I had felt... a peace that had gradually, over the weeks that I have been here at the abbey, settled over me.  Abbess is seated next to me in the front pew, her gnarled, yet surprisingly gentle fingers finding comfort in the string of rosary beads as she prays with me.  My own slender fingers have warmed the amber beads of Mama's rosary as I offer my own prayer to God, seeking His wisdom and His comfort to calm the turmoil in my mind.

Time is of little consequence, its passage marked only by the shortening length of the chapel candles and the small ache in my backside from sitting on the hard wood of the ancient chestnut pews.

"I first saw Sister Celine when I was just a few years younger than you are now." 

The soft contralto of Abbess' voice breaks the silence of the chapel.  I look up at her as she turns her gaze from the altar to face me.  She continues.

I'm not going to recount Abbess' story here; it would not be right.  Abbess shared something deeply personal with me.  Something for which I am grateful, in Sister Celine's words... "beyond measure."

At one point in her narrative, Abbess stopped.  She looked up at the statue of the Virgin Mary.  After a few moments, a peacefulness settled back over her face.

"Heart and head could not seem to reconcile.  You know that of which I speak, do you not, child?"

I nod slowly.  Abbess reaches out and takes my hands in hers.

"When Sister Celine came to me that day..." 

By the time Abbess is finished, the candles have lost more of their length.  The echo of her words fades away and silence falls over the chapel once more, broken only by the occasional sputter of a candle.  She takes my hands for a moment more and then she stands.

"I will leave you now, child, to your meditations.  I hope that you have..." she stops.  A gentle smile crosses her face.

"Good night, Veronica.  Bless you, child."

"Good night, Abbess.  Thank you.  For everything."

~*~

The next morning...

*

The woman in the mirror has a new look in her eyes.  The woman looking out from the depths of the ancient looking-glass is not the same woman who first gazed out of that silvered surface all that time ago.  The woman looking out now has lost something... something she carried for a long time.  She has let it go... left it behind.  The woman whose gaze now holds mine through the centuries-old glass has found something that she lost a long time ago.  The woman looking back at me this morning has reached the end of one journey.  The woman in the mirror has...

It's time.

*

Sitting across from Abbess, I am struck once again at the gentleness that radiates from her.  To look in the depths of her soft grey-blue eyes, one would not guess at the turmoil and strife that once had hold of her life, as it did mine.  There is a serenity reflected back that speaks more eloquently than any words possibly could, of the peace and purpose she has found here at the abbey, this gentle servant of God.

"So...?"  She leaves the question unfinished, the corner of her mouth turning up into a tiny smile.  Abbess knows, without having to ask, the reason for my early morning visit to her office.

I hesitate, not because I am uncertain of the words I am about to speak, but because I have waited for... and searched for... so long... the answers that I have found here, and I am still a bit disbelieving that I have finally reached journey's end.  My hesitation now is not one of uncertainty, but a moment of reflection.

The moment passes.

"I'm ready to go home now, Abbess."

**

Reunited

**

It is with no small amount of sadness that I close the abbey gate, the sisters' final 'good-byes' still ringing in my ears.

It's time. 
Time to go home. 
Time to return to my life... and my wife. 
Time to return to the purpose God has given me.

"Keep them safe, Father." 

I look heavenward once more and then begin walking down the long graveled path to the main road where the car service will be waiting for me.

My journey back to America has begun.

~*~

Leaving the arrivals lounge, my only baggage the large carry-on slung over my shoulder, I make my way across the concourse toward the taxi stands outside the terminal entrance.  Even though I've already been through three international airports and a train station, I still find myself a little disoriented at everything around me.  Life was so simple back at the abbey.  Unhurried... uncrowded... uncomplicated... peaceful. 

But... for better or for worse, this is my world.

*

I see her... across the concourse, scanning the crowd, and for a moment I am frozen in place.

A myriad of thoughts swirl in my head... "She's here!  She came for me... my soul mate and my forever!"  And on top of that thought... "I'm not ready... I thought I had another 3,000 miles... I don't know what to say... it's been so long... what if she is mad at me for being gone so long... what if...how do I...what... I... ?"  And for one mad moment, I consider bolting.

And then, as if an invisible force were suddenly at work, the space between the two of us clears of other travelers and it is only she and I standing across the broad expanse of the concourse from each other. 

Our eyes meet.

And time stands still.

*

I feel the measured beat of my heart... each exhalation of air from my lungs... as I begin to slowly walk toward her, the tempo rising as each step brings me nearer to my inamorata.  After perhaps half a dozen steps, my brain gives up any pretext at proper comportment - surrendering to the heart - and I break into a run, the carry-on sliding off my shoulder and falling to the floor.  The yards separating the two of us disappear in a blur.

And then... I am in her arms and like the ocean surf, the wave of emotions that has been building crashes over me and all the words that I wanted to say are washed away.

"Me segurar... me segurar... me segurar.... eu te amo... eu te amo... eu te amo... eu te amo..."

*

I don't know how long the two of us stood there - again, time is of no consequence; it simply exists.  We stand, arms around one another, locked in embrace, two hearts beating against each other... two hearts beating as one heart... with a rhythm, that like the snowflakes of winter, is unmatched anywhere else in the entire universe. 

I finally notice the large overnight bag Tina has slung over her shoulder.  I step back.

"You're going somewhere?"  I try to keep the disappointment out of my voice, but don't quite succeed.  Only a very cruel God would reunite me with my 'forever' and then take her away so soon.  In the next moment however, my fears are banished.

"We are, baby girl!" Tina emphasizes the "we" and that smile I know so well lights up my honey's face.

"We are?"  My heartbeat does a little sprint.  I am thrilled, but more than a little curious, having expected only to return home and not leave our condo for several days.  Except perhaps for more food or wine.

"I wanted to give you something, Roni.  I thought and thought and thought... we have been apart for so long... eternities, it seems... I thought... what can I do to show you how very much I love you?  Something, perhaps, that you have not had since you were a little girl? "  Tina reaches in her purse and rummages around for a moment, then pulls out a small object and holds it out to me.

For several moments I can only stare at it, seeing but not comprehending.  The object is familiar. 

I look up at her.

"Are those the keys to the beach house my parents had when I was a little girl?"   Mama and I had been back only a couple of times after Papa left us.  The memories then had been too painful... too bright.

Tina nods.

"I don't understand... I thought... how did you...?"

Tina smiles and reaches out, pressing two perfectly-manicured fingers gently against my lips.

"Time enough  for questions later, baby girl... we've got a sunrise to catch!"

~*~

Less than thirty minutes later, the charter pilot receives final clearance from the tower and the Cessna 400 begins to roll, the runway lights flashing by faster and faster as the nimble aircraft reaches for take-off speed.

Moments after that, I feel that familiar little flutter in my tummy and we are 'wings up'!

~*~

An almost imperceptible lightening of the sky on the far horizon signals the breaking dawn of a new day, the thin line of scattering clouds a promise of the glorious sunrise to follow.

We walk hand-in-hand - oh, how I have missed this; the simple act of holding hands - across the expanse of deserted beach, the cool, dry sand shifting beneath our bare feet as we make our way toward the ever-moving edge of the incoming tide.

A lone gull flies overhead, its single 'caw' a protest over the invasion of humans at this early hour.


I rest into Tina's comforting warmth, wrapping my arms around her slender waist and tilting my head against her shoulder.  She leans down and I feel her lips brush across the top of my head.  Drawing in a deep breath, I let it out slowly, enveloped by the calming scents of my inamorata and the ocean.

We cast our gaze to the east... and wait.

*

The sun - that golden orb of life to this big blue spinning marble in space called Earth - is not yet half above the horizon when a flock of seagulls swoops down low over the waves in front of us, catching their wings in the first rays of the sun's warmth.  The scene before my eyes is so breathtaking I half expect a Max Richter or Hans Zimmer orchestral to rise up in the background.

*

Overwhelmed, I can only look up at the woman I love with all my heart and soul.  A hundred thoughts, a thousand thoughts... ten thousand... swirl around my brain.  All the things I want to say to her... everything she means to me.  I want to say those three words that have never... not for one single second... left my heart.  I want to say "I love you!", but the lump in my throat will let no sound escape and I cannot seem to swallow it away.

Tina looks back at me with her beautiful hazel eyes... with the little flecks of gold... those eyes I drown in over and over and over... and her perfect coral pink lips curve into a smile that melts my heart every time.

She says two words.

Two words only.

Two words that say everything.

Two words that mean every thing to me.

"I know."


~finis~ 

Veronica Marie Lewis-Shaw
29 May 2014
(Writing under a large mushroom, somewhere in the Pacific Northwest)


Sunday, May 12, 2013

BOOK REVIEW - LAUREN KESSLER: COUNTER CLOCKWISE - My Year of Hypnosis, Hormones, Dark Chocolate, and Other Adventures in the World of Anti-Aging


Counterclockwise: One Midlife Woman's Quest to Turn Back the Hands of TimeCounterclockwise: One Midlife Woman's Quest to Turn Back the Hands of Time by Lauren Kessler
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

(Reviewer’s note – I am an independent writer.  I am also a freelance reviewer.  On occasion, I receive advance copies of books from publishers, for review.  My reviews are based solely on the merits of the book, and I receive no remuneration from the publisher or author, other than a copy of the book, in exchange for posting a review on my blogs.  Through a contest sponsored on Goodreads.com, I recently ‘won’ an ARC of Lauren Kessler’s latest non-fiction book, COUNTER CLOCKWISE.  The following is my review.  Disclaimer:  I have taken care to not, with a couple of minor exceptions, directly quote from the book.  Please note that the opinions and any 'claims' the reader may infer from this review are mine, and not necessarily those of the author.  Thank you – vmls)



“If I could turn back time… if I could find a way…”

In Diane Warren’s “If I Could Turn Back Time”, Cher sings of love and of regret over things said and things done… wishing to turn back time and take away the hurt.  But as we all know, time moves in one direction.

Or, does it…?

In Lauren Kessler’s Counter Clockwise, the author writes of ‘turning back time’ in a more literal and profound sense… in a way that will change your life… in a way that will improve the quality of your life, not just now, but as one grows older… chronologically, that is.  With solid research and testimony from experts in their respective fields behind her, Lauren explains that while ‘age’ may be something measured by passing of years on a calendar, how we age… the speed at which we ‘grow older’ is something that we have much, much more control over than one might think.

Lauren’s “Year of Hypnosis, Hormones, Dark Chocolate, and Other Adventures in the World of Anti-Aging”, as Counter Clockwise is subtitled, is an odyssey of discovery… and a search for the truth behind the hype… through the anti-aging ‘realm’.  A market that some estimate, in the next couple of years, will exceed $200 billion in revenue.

Lauren explores the pills, supplements, creams, lotions and assorted devices pushed on a largely unsuspecting public that is in search of the fountain of youth.  She tackles fitness and exercise regimens that would make even the most hardcore Marine boot camp drill sergeant toss in the towel and head for the lockers.  The lure of cosmetic surgery, guaranteed to take years off your body (if not your mind), along with thousands of your hard-earned dollars, sings its siren song to Lauren.  Does she succumb?  Ha!  If you’re expecting spoilers from me, you haven’t been reading my reviews.

Diet.  When we hear that word, most of us think in terms of losing weight, but remember this… ‘diet’ is not just a verb.  Diet, in the noun form, is an integral part of a healthy lifestyle and if your quest is to ‘turn back the hands of time’, what, when and how you eat is even more important.  Lauren’s research - I would have loved to be her research assistant, at least for this part - takes her through the science of food and nutrition in search of the right foods and combinations of foods that will promote optimal health and get those narrow black hands winding backward around the clock face.  Think you know what a superfood is?  Want the real lowdown on dark chocolate and red wine?  Pay particular attention to that chapter.

Even a good diet doesn’t mean your body, and mind, can’t use a little help from the supplement market.  Lauren has done a great deal of research in the area of supplements and come up with her own list.  I think this is a list worth paying attention to.

Exercise… how important is it?  Lauren gives us the ‘sweaty truth’.  After reading Chapter Eleven, I am rethinking my current exercise regimen… which presently consists of a daily five-mile run - more if my stress level is up.  Deadlines and commitments; what are you gonna do? - and thrice-weekly visits to the gym.  Yeah, yeah, I know… there are seven days in a week.  But, I’m young.  I’ve got plenty of time, right?  Hmmm… might want to be re-thinking that ‘philosophy’, Veronica.

There is a philosophy, a sound one, by the way… unlike some of the hoke and hype surrounding some diet, exercise, and supplement ‘stay young’  regimens… that explores how the mind contributes to whether we age well, at a ‘normal’ pace, or age quickly.

Lifestyle, diet, attitude… the wrong combination of these can give a thirty-year old the body – inside and out – of a sixty year old.  And vice-versa… the right combination… well, imagine being 60 in calendar years but with the outside body of a 50 year old - without the benefit of cosmetic surgery - and the inside body of a 40 year-old?  (My words, not Lauren’s – vmls)

In Counterclockwise, Lauren shows us how we can not only slow down the march of time, but even reverse it, to some degree.  Has she found the fountain of youth?  No… there is no such thing.  Forget all those infomercials and so-called ‘experts’ on ‘midnight’ television, hawking the latest ‘key to eternal youth’… it is for the most part little more than ‘snake oil’.

Want to know a secret?  You have the key… not to eternal youth, but to living longer… to living younger than the age on your driver’s license.

I hesitate to say that there is one single thing that will ‘turn back time’, that will slow down that clock and turn you into an ‘anti-ager’… but in a very real sense there is.

One thing, from which everything else flows…

Attitude.  As is pointed out in the book… “expectation rules outcome”.  This is a simple, yet deeply profound truth that it seems, humans need constant reminding of.  What we think… how we think… is what we become.

Attitude.

Getting into the proper mindset.  Why does anything fail?  Diets… exercise… jobs…. relationships… all have one thing in common for not succeeding.  Our attitude.  If you don’t ‘expect’ to meet that weight goal… if you don’t ‘expect’ to finish that marathon or 10K race… if you don’t ‘expect’ to get that job you want… you won’t!  It’s that simple.  You can’t just want something to happen… you have to make it happen.  All of the research and advice Lauren offers in Counter Clockwise will help you make things happen.

My wife, Christina, has on more than one occasion remarked that I “act like a twelve year-old.”  Well, pardon me for not always acting my age, but as Chapter Twelve - unless they get renumbered; I am reading an advance reader copy, not the final ‘to-market’ book – points out, that may not always be a bad thing.  If I had only five seconds to summarize the ‘message’ in Chapter Twelve, it would be this…

Think young… live young… be young.

Fortunately, I don’t have only five seconds…

In the 21st century job market, more so than at any other time perhaps, youth… the perception of youth, that is… ‘rules’.  Wisdom, experience and knowledge take second place to a pretty face and a ‘fit and trim’ body.  You can take the band aid approach to ‘youth’… cosmetic surgery and the latest fad diet, but if what you really want is to look, feel and live not just younger, but longer… with a better quality of life….

Read Counter Clockwise.  This book is not 230 pages of opinion and conjecture.  The author has, through exhaustive research and at times, incredible self-sacrifice, written a roadmap, if you will, to a happier, healthier and longer life… a life “increasingly disease-resistant and increasingly energetic”.  Lauren has consulted with some of the top experts in their respective fields, subjecting her body and mind at times to total strangers, and come away with some very good news.

We can ‘turn back time’.  But remember…

You can’t just want something to happen… you have to make it happen.

I’ve read a book or two on self-help, diet and exercise… and wasn’t terribly impressed.  I’ve listened to a spiel or two at conventions, fairs and such… and was more impressed with the free water bottles and key fobs than the product or the pitchman’s speech.  After reading Counter Clockwise, however… I recommend it without hesitation.  I don’t say this about a lot of books I read, but this one… it will be life-changing.  Lauren covers all the bases here with good solid advice, as well as some resources, to set you on the path to a more fulfilling life.

Lauren's keen sense of humour, and occasional snarkiness - gotta love it! - made this a thoroughly enjoyable read, as well as being very informative and educational.

There was one thing missing from the book, though.

I didn’t see the chapter on the health benefits of Sonic’s Texas Toast Breakfast Sandwich or Five Guys’ Bacon Jalapeno Cheeseburger (yes, with the cajun fries!)… I’m sure they will be in the final version of Counter Clockwise.  Right, Lauren?

One final thought…

“Lauren, I have to side with your daughter on this… don’t mess with my smoothies!”


Thank you,



Veronica Marie Lewis-Shaw
12 May 2013
(Writing under a large mushroom, somewhere in the Pacific Northwest)


View all my reviews

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

OUT OF THE CLUTTER OF A WRITER'S MIND: I HATE SPIDERS!

Copyright 2012 - Veronica Marie Lewis-Shaw

 I hate spiders!  I’ve mentioned that before, haven’t I?  Maybe once… or twice?  Hate… hate… hate... hate!  Tina says that I am being irrational and if I leave them alone, they will leave me alone.  Pfffft!  Now who’s being irrational?  Besides, I see nothing irrational in a little healthy fear of Satan’s spawn!  And… the Bible tells us we must be ever vigilant of the devil and his minions.

I rest my case. 

~*~

To celebrate my 27th birthday (oh… it does look smaller when I use numbers instead of spelling it out) Tina took extra time off from work; the best birthday present she could have given me!  For those of you who know me, there is really only one place to celebrate my birthday… our beach house.  If it is possible to love a place more than a person, the Oregon coast would be that place.  It is the closest thing to heaven on earth… after my sweet little honey, of course!

~*~

Sunday evening.  We’ve spent a wonderful extended weekend at the coast, beach-combing… dining out… dining in… browsing bookstores… hours in front of the big fireplace with wine, soft music and each other… “Best birthday ever, honey!  I love you so much!” and are now settling in for our last evening before heading back to the hustle and bustle of the big city.

I’m standing in front of the bathroom mirror, searching the sun-kissed landscape of my face for signs of singeing from leaning a little too close to the bonfire we had earlier in the evening with some new friends – when it happens.

Right in front of my eyes… just as bold as you please… a big, hairy spider drops from its perch over the mirror – they hide in the light sconces, just waiting to give me a heart attack, the evil little bastards – and skitters across the lavatory counter, millimeters from my right hand.

“F**k!”  Panic-swept, my promise to Mama about sweary words… that one in particular… is forgotten.  I turn and run from the bathroom. 

Well… almost. 

The closed bathroom door foils my less-than-graceful escape from the eight-legged beast hissing behind me.  Okay… maybe it wasn’t the spider making that sound… it was me… trying to form words… “Sssss… ssss…. sssh… shi…”

My spastic fingers finally find purchase on the polished brass doorknob and I wrench the bathroom door open, literally flying across the vanilla-scented space between the doorway and where Tina is sitting up in bed – a good twenty feet - with a look of consternation on her face.  I swear… my feet never touched the floor!

“Wha…?”   I don’t hear what else she says, as I dive under the covers, where a string of expletives fills the warm space.  

“OMG!  F**k…” Sorry, Mama… (insert several more sweary words here).

Gradually, the trip-hammer in my chest slows and the velocity of blood roaring through my ears lessens.  The warmth and scent of Tina calms me, as it always does, and after a few minutes I push back the covers and sit up.  She gets an ‘A’ for effort, but my honey is doing a very poor job of not smiling at my distress.

“Spider?”

“Giant, hunormous (It’s a word!  Work with me, people… I’ve just suffered a trauma!) spider… like… this big!”

I hold up my hands, fingers splayed, approximating the circumference of a turkey platter.

“How big?”   With a slight tilt of her head, Tina offers up a prosecutorial query…

Moving my hands closer together… a large cantaloupe.

“Really?”  Tina’s one word follow-up is accompanied with a look and air of skepticism that is worthy of an Academy Award for Best Actress.  And she calls ME a drama queen?

“Objection, your honor!  Badgering the witness!”  I retort. 

Her soft hazel eyes… with those little flecks of gold… stare back at me, unblinking.

Moving my hands closer still… an orange would fill the space… still closer - now using the fingers of one hand to illustrate the size of said hairy-legged beast from whom, thanks to my Crystal Cathedral-shattering shriek, we have been spared an agonizing death – approximating the size of an apricot… still closer… cherry tomato… craisan… still closer… a grain of bulgur…

It’s amazing how one’s perspective changes, once the panic subsides and adrenaline levels return to normal.

My inamorata sits there silently… a rather satisfied smirk on her coral pink lips.

Sighing…

“Smirking doesn’t become you… you do know that?”

“And you wonder why I said ‘no’ to you getting a shotgun to keep by the bed?”

Okay… okay… okay… so maybe Tina has a point there.  Otherwise, right now we would be staring into the bathroom… through a jagged two foot hole in the bedroom wall, a cloud of gunsmoke drifting across the room and the boom of a double-barrel 12-gauge reverberating our eardrums. 

I make a last attempt to save a shred of my dignity…

“I read somewhere that it is the little teeny, tiny spiders that carry the deadliest venom.”

I can almost hear Tina’s eyeballs click as they roll back in their sockets.

“Can we please go to sleep now?” she asks.

Sigh…

Yes, now that you mention it… it does feel a little ‘déjà vu-ey’

Damn spiders!

~*~

The next morning… in the bathroom...

“You have a mole on your butt.”

“You promised not to throw that in my face… it’s in our wedding vows.”

“No, this is a new one… bigger… the size of Wisconsin.”

I switch off the hair dryer… we stare at each other in the mirror… the silence grows.

Wisconsin?”

Tina steps back and bends down to look at my bum again.

“Maybe Michigan… no, wait… Michigan is the one that looks like a mitten, right?  Yeah… this is definitely Wisconsin.”  She straightens up and looks back at me in the mirror.

“The SIZE of Wisconsin?”  My voice raises a couple of octaves.

“Oh!”  Tina’s hazel eyes go wide.

“No!  Shape… I meant shape… not…”

Her voice trails off as Tina realizes the implications of her little ‘faux pas’.  She withers a little under my stare.  Clearly, judging by the flicker of fear in her eyes, I have mastered my ‘murderous look’.  Tina knows well the penalty for making allusions as to the size of my bum… it is a very sensitive subject with me.  I’m trying!

“I’m sorry, baby girl… shape… I meant shape… really…”  Feeble words spill over her lips.  What’s that old line… how do you tell when a lawyer is lying?  Their lips are moving.

A little something to know about my wife… Tina always says what she means… always!  I’ve been reminded of that often enough, bless her dark little lawyer’s soul.  No… this little aside is her subtle way of telling me the caboose of this train is getting a bit full.

Tina’s voice falters and she reaches for me, but I pull away.  I might as well ‘milk’ this thing, right?

My mouth tightens to a flat line and I narrow my eyes – once a drama queen… always a drama queen.  Tina looks away, at spot in the mirror’s distance.  You can almost hear a pin drop in the room.

“So then… that would make my ass, what?  The size of Texas… and Alaska?”  I turn my back on her, to emphasize my last words.

My voice has that deceptive calm the prosecutor sometimes invokes just before he or she hammers home the final nail in the coffin, and sends some poor bastard away for thirty years.  It is a quality of voice that Tina knows all too well, having employed it more than once in the courtroom herself.

This time the silence draws out like a blade… sharp and silvery.  You can almost hear the neurons firing beneath her soft, blonde hair.

“Wait a minute… that’s not a mole… I think you sat on something.”

After a moment… 

“Well… what is it?” 

“Ummm…” Tina hesitates.  “Well, umm…hmm… it might…be… a spi….” 

As she speaks, her hand brushes across my naked bum.  I turn and look down at mortis araneus, motionless on the cool tiles… and run shrieking from the bathroom.

*

I really do have to stop these graceless exits… its bad form. 

*

With the sound of the flushing toilet fading away, I walk back from the kitchen to the bathroom.  I’m pretty sure the last bit of my self-respect is lying on the tiles, waiting for me to pick it up.

“A spider?”

Tina nods.

“The size of Wisconsin?”

?

She blinks… and then blinks again.

Oh, I am so getting that shotgun!


~ finis ~



© 2013 – Veronica Marie Lewis-Shaw.  All Rights Reserved.
Photograph - © 2012 – Veronica Marie Lewis-Shaw.  All Rights Reserved.



Wednesday, April 25, 2012

BOOK REVIEW - KEVIN O'KEEFE: THE AVERAGE AMERICAN

The Average American: The Extraordinary Search for the Nation's Most Ordinary CitizenThe Average American: The Extraordinary Search for the Nation's Most Ordinary Citizen by Kevin O'Keefe
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

"The average American takes a 10.4 minute shower... 86% of those pee in the shower and 67% do not sing in the shower..."



A great little conversation starter for my next party.

It is nice to see some 'myths' exploded and I appreciated the insight into how the media and marketing businesses twist statistics around to suit their own narrow agendas... "you mean JIF really ISN'T the number one peanut butter in America?"

I think where Kevin has stumbled a bit is in trying to make this some kind of spiritual quest. Stick to the task at hand... find the Average American.

I am pleased, although not in the least surprised to find that I am not an 'average American'. For starters... my showers run more than 10 minutes... I don't pee in the shower, although I... but, I digress...

All in all... an interesting read; one which shouldn't be taken too seriously, but with the 'tongue-in-cheek' spirit in which it should be.

After all... is there really an 'average' American... or any other nationality, for that matter?  Like snowflakes, we humans are 'no two alike'... unique and special in our own ways.

We are not average or ordinary!

View all my reviews