Maybe I Was Flirting

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“Ray, Ray, do I have your full attention this is really really important?”

“How important is it La Flor? Is it still La Flor?”

“It is until I use one of my aliases.”

“What is your problem? Your eye is twitching. Your left leg is jerking at 90 miles an hour. And, you been popping chocolate truffles one after another as if they’re popcorn. Maybe I’m going to write about your character gaining an enormous amount of weight. How would you like that?”

“Don’t add to my problems, Ray. I told you I am beautiful, tough, and edgy, recall? You made me too beautiful, tough, and edgy, but don’t change anything.”

“I don’t understand. You look beautiful, tough, and edgy. You’re tanned, toned, and terrific. Do you like my alliteration to describe you?”

“I don’t have time for your nonsense.”

“Okay, what is it? I need to go to Starbucks and get my cold brew for the afternoon. Will this take long?”

“Men just don’t get it.”

“Hey, I’m one of the sensitive ones.”

“That speaks volumes for your species. If you are the archetype of the sensitive male, God help all women.”

“You’re making me look bad to my blog readers. What is your problem?”

“Do you know Jack Reacher?”

“Are you talking about the Lee Child character?”

“Exactly. He was hitting on me. I want you to do something about it”.

“Have you read any of the Jack Reacher books? I don’t imagine you have. Jack Reacher is one tough hombre. What were you doing fooling around with Jack Reacher?”

“I wasn’t fooling around with him. Well, maybe I was flirting a bit.”

“Did you go to the Alt Ego Bar with your mystery writer girlfriend?”

“So? How did I know Jack Reacher was going to show up.”

“He hit on you? What did he say? He doesn’t seem like kind of character that mistreats women. Bad guys that’s another story. Besides, I warned you about going to Alt Ego bars.”

“He sauntered to our table, bent over, his muscles popping through his shirt, his deep blue eyes were piercing my soul. It was the way he said it,”

“You’ve got a crush on Jack Reacher. Am I right?”

“No. I think it’s the real thing. Jack said,”I just wrapped up another book and I feel like celebrating. Let me pick up your tab. You beautiful ladies have a great day.”

“The real thing? I don’t think so. That was all? He didn’t sound like he hit on you.”

“That’s the problem, Ray. He didn’t hit on us.”

“Then why did you tell me he hit on you?”

“Because I wanted you to write Jack into the next blog so I can get to know him a little better.”

“La Flor, what am I going to do with you?”

“Love me?”

We all have our crazy moments. Moments when we may not be as nice as we ought. It’s one of  life’s wonderful lessons, no one is perfect. No one is close to perfect. In those moments of imperfection, which are many for me, like La Flor, I ask, ‘Love me?’ Loving another, warts and all, during the good as well as the bad is the glue that holds our fragile world together. 

 

What Kind of Hell Am I In?

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“How about a serious blog today La Flor? It is La Flor or did you change it?”

“Do you mean to tell me that your blogs are not serious? And, I am keeping my name for the time being La Flor has a nice ring to it.”

“Are you still pursuing a career as a PI?”

“It’s my dream job, Ray. I want to start on something a little less demanding. Do you have any ideas?”

“I have a great idea for you. Why don’t you co-write today’s blog on making the perfect meal?”

“I’m on it, Ray. Move out of my way.”

“Try not to be impetuous, La Flor. Let’s take it slowly.”

“Don’t get in My Way, Ray. This is my chance for the big breakthrough. You’ll see my star power. I’ll rocket to the top. After this blog, I’ll be on the Food Channel. I’ll have my own show. I’ll need a lawyer and agent. You won’t do. If you’re nice to me, I’ll give you a cameo. Don’t worry, I won’t forget your birthday or Christmas.”

“As always, La Flor, you always have others in mind first. What’s your idea for our food blog?”

“I don’t like the sound of our. I’m going to start easy with a five-course vegan meal.”

“Let’s simple it down a tad. At least for the first one. We’ll still keep it vegan. Do you want to hear my suggestion?”

“Let me guess, a hard-boiled egg?”

“No. I believe a peanut butter sandwich will do.”

“What’s the title of the blog, Bag Lunches for Kindergarten Students?”

“Peanut butter sandwiches bring me back to a kinder, gentler time when I …”

“Don’t go there if you’re going where I think you’re going, and I know that’s where you’re going.”

“Where do you think I’m going? I don’t look like I’m going anywhere. I’m sitting listening to you.”

“There you go, Ray. Don’t give me that look. You are going where you’re not supposed to be going if you want your peanut butter sandwich. And, I might call your Uncle Joe.”

“Leave Uncle Joe out of it. He never forgets me on Christmas. Where did you learn to read minds?”

“Oprah.”

“Oprah?”

“And, The View. Okay, creamy or chunky?”

“I prefer organic, creamy.”

“This is so boring. White bread okay?”

“I prefer a whole grain bread with at least 7 grams of fiber, five grams of protein, toasted, not burned or charred, it has a golden hue and the outside is crunchier than the inside.”

“Who do you think it’s going to read this blog?”

“Organic peanut butter lovers?”

La Flor covered her eyes, and said, “What kind of hell am I in?”

Everyone has the right to change his or her mind at least once. Make that as many times as he or she wants to change it. Life is filled with rapid changes and when we adapt to changes we discover new challenges, new adventures, and a wonderful opportunity to keep learning and growing.

 

 

The Blog Is Not About You

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“Good morning Ray. I’ve been giving my personality a lot of thought.”

“I’m glad one of us has. Don’t roll your eyes. Why are you folding your arms across your chest? Don’t turn away, what is it?”

“I want to be a PI. One of the hard-boiled kind. You know the old-fashioned rough and tough. Look at me. I’m beautiful, edgy, and tough.”

“You have the perfect personality to be a hard-boiled PI. I don’t have to add anything to it. Can I go back to writing my blog?”

“Will you help me? Let’s try one blog and see how it works out.”

“I don’t know anything about writing a PI blog.”

“How hard can it be? Every PI show uses the same recipe. We’ll substitute me. Someone is in distress.  They come to me for help. I take the case after a bit of haggling. I walk on the edge because I’m edgy. I get my way because I’m beautiful. I get the bad guys or girls because I’m La Flor the PI.”

“La Flor?”

“Clever. It’s Spanish the flower.”

“I know what it is.”

“Honestly, La Flor, I don’t know anything about being a PI. I only know about pi equals 3.14. And, even then, that’s where my knowledge stops.”

“I will dictate the blog for you. I will speak slowly enough so you can comprehend what I’m saying.”

“You’re not going to leave until I do this, am I correct?”

“You got that straight, Buster. See how easy I slip into my role?”

“Fantastic. I can only hope Hollywood is calling you. Start telling me your story.”

“La Flor struggled against all odds to achieve her dream to become a private investigator. She was tough, beautiful, and edgy. The only hindrance to her being the best in the business, was the wannabe blog writer, Ray.”

“Hold on, La Flor. Let’s leave me out of your stories. I’ve got enough going on without you creating more problems for me.”

“Thanks for the line Ray. You proved my point. I’m going to use that line in my story.”

“Hold on this blog is not about you.”

“If not me, who?”

Our lives are our stories. Each moment we are creating our stories with our conversations, relationships, and actions. La Flor wants to write a PI story with her as the heroine. I like that. Our life stories should have us as the hero or heroine in our unique story. I am going to start writing a new chapter. I know I can always end a chapter any time I desire and start a new chapter. 

 

Girlfriends, I Need Some Help

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“I’ve been thinking, Ray.”

“Okay, I’m paying attention. This is new territory for me. What are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking about me.”

“I see we are going where no human being has ever dared venture before. And, I see nothing but Trouble with a capital T.”

“You writers think you own your characters, but I have a news flash for you …”

“I don’t watch cable news Sunflower. Let’s get back to you.”

“It’s not Sunflower. It’s Daisy. My personality is bland. I have a sharp mind. I keep you focused. But I am not an administrative assistant.”

“Daisy? What happened to Sunflower?”

“Oh how slowly you men are to understand.”

“What am I missing here, Daisy?”

“You are missing the whole point. And, if Daisy too difficult, you can call me D.”

“The point? I don’t see any point in this conversation?”

“Girlfriends, I need some help with this guy. Okay, I’m going to spell it out for you. I don’t do coffee, bathrooms, floors, or mirrors.”

“How about dinner on Mondays?”

“No.”

“Okay, I get the point.You’re here for the free ride.”

“Let’s go back to the beginning again, Ray. My personality is bland, bland, bland. It’s white rice. It’s borracho beans without the borracho. It’s chilies without the chill. See where I’m going? I’m adding a little spice.”

“I may have my eyes checked, but go on.”

“I’m adding a little spice to my life. In your language, I’m putting some chili pepper into my personality. Maybe a little sriracha sauce. I might even throw in a habanero or two. I’m thinking of a tat or two. Pretty cute they way I said it, right?”

“Can I use it in my blog?”

“Sure thing. Make sure you attribute it to me.”

“Well, this new spicy personality is giving you an independent streak.”

“Just in time for the 4th.”

It is our personality that makes us interesting. Different personalities add color and a bit of pizzaz to our world. It’s good we’re not all alike or think alike or act alike. When we are open to accepting another and his or her personality as he or she is, we become open to discovering new worlds and learning much more about other people and ourselves as well. Go for it Daisy, D, Sunflower, or whatever your name is. I can’t wait to see how you develop your personality.

 

Can I Chase My Heart Dreams Too?

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“You are working up a sweat, Ray. Why are you trying to get in shape?”

“Why did you follow me to the Y? I’m already in shape. I’m just trying to get in better shape.”

“The Blog Master asked me to keep an eye on you. You’re on their watch list.”

“Watchlist? A blog watch list? I’m on it?”

“Right at the top, Ray. Let’s face it, I don’t think you’re going to run a marathon. You don’t look like you can make the NBA. You can’t jump high enough. And. I’ve seen you shoot basketballs, you can’t make a layup.

“You think? I almost beat Joey the other day.”

“How old is Joey?”

“Nine. But, I’m getting better. He only beat me by three baskets. Maybe I’m going to be Tom Brady’s backup this year.”

You may as well add winning the Nobel prize, Pulitzer Prize,  and any other prize they give for writing to your dream of being Tom Brady’s backup. I hate to burst your bubble kid, but those dreams are not coming true.

Where did kid come from? My name is Ray. I don’t change it every other day or every day like some people I know. BTW, what’s the name today, Me Lu?

I’m glad you asked. I decided since it is summer, to call myself Sunflower.”

“Sunflower? Why not Rose, since you are filled with thorns.”

Very clever, Ray. Very clever. Not.

“Have you thought of changing your name Ray? I can come up with some good ones for you. The names I will give you will change your persona. They will cause people to respect you, women will be knocking down your door, and money will flow into your bank account.Those are the three wishes of all males in our culture.”

“I have an idea, Sunflower.What if I kept my name and chase the dreams in my heart.”

“Oh, I like that, Ray. Can I chase my heart dreams too?”

“Let’s go for it, Sunflower.”

Dreams that come from our heart are the special ones. They are the dreams that make a difference in our world. They are the dreams that give life to our talent. Our dreams are unique to each of us. Don’t let anyone convince you not to chase your dreams. Sunflower and I are off to chase our dreams. Come along and fly through the cosmos with us.

A Haunting Voice

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Somedays everything goes right–Today was not one of them. The day started out fine enough. The perfect cup of coffee. My oatmeal found the perfect place between too soupy too thick. And, my blueberries were sweet with a hint of tartness. I looked out the window, the sun was shining, the sky blue without a trace of clouds, and the birds darting in and out of the birdfeeder as if they were guided by air traffic control at O’Hara Airport.

And then, “Ray? Got a moment?”

The voice.  A voice that has been haunting me for the past couple of weeks. It was Z uh or whatever her name was today.  I was trapped. I had no place to hide. She was standing in the doorframe smiling holding a large clear coffee cup, filled with black gold. Black gold I made for myself. I can already feel my lack of caffeine heading toward a monster headache.

“Yes, Z uh?”

“It’s Me Lu, I think the name gives me an intriguing personality.”

“Oh, it does something for your personality, that’s for sure.”

“BTW, thanks for making coffee for me this morning.”

At that moment, it struck, right above the right eye. My right eye felt like it was the size of a bowling ball. I was heading toward the mother of all caffeine withdrawal headaches.

“Something wrong, Ray?”

“Where do I begin?” I said.

“How about beginning by listening to what I have to say.”

“Have a seat My Shoe. Like the old Frasier show, ‘I’m listening.’”

“It’s Me Lu. Do you think you should have your ears checked for wax plugs?”“My hearing is fine.”

“My hearing is fine.”

“I was online this morning. And, I found something very interesting.”

I raised my eyebrows, hope in my heart Me Lu might be thinking of moving on. I said, “A new boyfriend? A new alt ego dating site?  A new place to go with your friend from the mystery writers blog?”

“Wrong on all three.  There is a cleanup on the River today. I thought you and I could go and pitch in.”

“Why don’t you and your friend from the mystery writer’s blog, whom, by the way, I’ve never met, go. I’m busy with my blog.”

How are you going to meet people if you don’t get involved? The closest you get to getting involved is waving to neighbors when you take the trash out.”

“I wouldn’t have to do that if you picked up your share of the load around here.”

“Too late, Ray. I already signed you up. I knew you would agree. It’ll be fun.”

“What are you doing? Leave that alone. I didn’t save my work. That’s just not right.”

“It’s the only way it could get you away from your computer. If what you were writing was like the rest of your blogs …”

We are a community people. As a community people, we can work together to build a stronger, sustainable, healthy community. Whatever our gift is, we can contribute it to our community through our involvement. I will take Me Lu’s advice and get involved. I will be doing something meaningful to benefit those who live in my community and me as well.

Are There Dating Sites For Alt Egos

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No writer’s block today. I feel as if I’m on a rocket named mood swing. I have blog ideas riding my dendrites as if they were at the San Antonio rodeo. If only one of them would hang on for eight I might have something.

“Ray?”

“Z uh? What’s wrong? You sound depressed. Did you catch it from me yesterday? Your name is still Z uh, right?”

“I didn’t have the energy to change it.”

“You want to talk?”

“Are you going to listen or pretend you’re listening?”

“Can I do a little of both? You know how my mind works. Don’t take it personally. You have a good three or four minutes of my full attention. After that, I lose control. An alien force takes hold of my mind and sends it at warp speed to places in the cosmos that no man or woman have ever traveled.”

“Give me a break with the

Z uh’s comment took me aback. I’ve never thought about Z uh having a boyfriend. “What kind of boyfriend?” I asked with a bit of trepidation in my voice.

Z uh gives me a look that tells me not to go there. She said, “Are there any dating sites for alt egos?”

“Dating sites for alt egos? You mean characters like you who’ve taken on a life?”

“Duh! Of course.”

“Let me check. I’ve found one. It’s called Alt Egos Need A Life dot com. Let’s check it out.”

“Thanks for helping me, Ray. Maybe I’ll find that special alt ego.”

“Don’t hold your breath, Z uh. I got to warn you, there are a lot of sick, weird, seriously warped alt ego personalities floating around.”

“Give me your laptop. I don’t trust you filling out my profile.”

“It sounds like you’ve done this before.”

“I previously used one or two or three or four of my aliases.”

“Any luck?”

“All bad. But I haven’t tried this site. I’m feeling better already. I’m taking charge of my life.”

“There’s a phone call for you.”

“Who is it? I’m busy.”

“Your girlfriend from the mystery writers blog wants to know if you want to go with her to an alt ego club tonight.”

“Don’t wait up.”

“Be careful.”

“Okay. You’re a good friend, Ray.”

What is a friend? We all need them. It’s nice to have lots of friends. It’s even better to have at least one or two real friends who’ll drop everything to help when you’re in trouble. The kind of friends who don’t count the cost, time, or want payback. They pitch in because they’re your friend. This is the kind of friend I want to be. As Bruno Mars said in his song, Count on Me. “You can count on me like one, two, three I’ll be there. And, I know I can count on you like four, three, two you’ll be there.” 

 

 

The Black Hole All Writers Fear

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“Ray? Ray? Ray? Quit hiding from me. Where are you? It’s not like you. I’ll find you. Ah hah! The scent of a rich dark roast coffee, with a hint of a smokey, yet filled with the unmistakable trace of the world’s richest chocolate. There you are. What are you doing in your closet grasping hold of your coffee with both hands? What are you afraid of, Ray? Together, we can face your fears.”

“Please, Tay. Leave me alone. I don’t want to see anyone, especially you.”

“What’s wrong, Ray? You can call me  Z uh.”

“Who? What happened to Tay?”

“It rhymed with Ray. My name’s spelled Z space uh. I need my own identity. Don’t take it personally, but look at you, you’re a wreck. You’re worse than a pileup on a San Antonio freeway where a taco food truck tipped over. Worse, a barbecue food truck back ended it. The people of this city will do anything for either delicacy.”

“You are driving me nuts. I’ve writer’s block. Nothing is coming to me. Nada. I’m looking into the black hole all writers fear and I see no way out.”

“I was afraid of this, Ray. I could see it coming.”

“Why didn’t you warn me? Why didn’t you give me a clue?”

“Come on, Ray. What’s the first rule of your species?”

“Don’t ask for advice.”

“And, the second rule of your species, almost tied for first place, Ray?”

“This is painful Z uh. It’s, it’s …”

“Spit it out, Ray.”

“Lord, it hurts. It’s when given advice, ignore it at all costs. Why was I hiding?”

“The Sox lost. You take losses hard, Ray.”

“You sure? I think it was something else.”

“It’s another thing about your species, Ray. The mind can only hold so many facts.

 

Ego, a sense of foolish pride, a spirit of independence all can get in the way of seeking advice or listening to it when offered. Seeking advice, listening, testing it to see if it makes sense helps us to navigate through life’s choppy waters.

I Don’t Do Fridge’s, Floors or Flamingos

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Today is trash day. Three cheers for Tuesday trash day. I’ll add an extra T and make it an alliteration. It’s Tuesday Terrific Trash day. It’s terrific because the trash smells. I decided to clean the refrigerator this past weekend.

“Hold on, Ray. Who cleaned the refrigerator this past weekend?”

“I bolted the door. Set the alarm. How did you bypass my security, Tay?”

“I made friends with a mystery writer on a blog close by. Have to say it, Ray. Her blog is much more interesting than some I’ve read.”

“Why are you rolling your eyes? And, what does your friend’s blog have to do with you bypassing my fool proof system?”

“She’s a mystery writer and wrote a few lines having me pick the lock and disarming the alarm. Simple enough. Go girl power. BTW, we’re having girls’ night out and spending it here.”

“I’m fine with that. Can I join?”

“There you go spoiling everything. We’ll hold it at the mystery writer’s blog. Now, let’s get back to reality, who cleaned the fridge?”

“It was my idea, Tay.”

“Who cleaned the fridge, Ray?”

“Not you.”

“Darn right. I don’t do fridge’s, floors, or flamingos.”

“Where did flamingo’s come from?”

“You started the alliteration thing. Now, fess up, who cleaned it?”

“Maid 911. I didn’t catch her name. She was too busy telling me I need to get rid of outdated and moldy stuff.”

“Now you wonder why I like to eat out, often, very often, every night if possible.”

“No, I never wondered. My fridge sparkles. Smells great.”

“When are you going to fill it?”

“Let me enjoy the clean, almost new feeling.”

“We could have cut this blog in half if you came clean quickly.”

“There are guys who read this blog. Coming clean is a step by step process for my species. It’s like tying a shoe. First, you put your shoe on. Second, check to make sure it’s on the right foot.”

“Stop, Ray. Stop.”

“BTW, can I join you at the mystery writer’s blog?”

Being truthful isn’t easy, especially when it comes to acknowledging something we’ve done or failed to do. Being truthful is important to a healthy, loving relationship. It’s the glue that builds trust one step at a time. 

 

I Need More Than Talk

by

I love thunderstorms. I enjoy the fury of the rain, the wind gusts, and the flashes of lightening. I especially like them at night. They help me to sleep.

“Are you nuts?”

“I thought I gave you the day off,” I said.

“Nice try. I have friends who are frightened by thunderstorms.”

“You don’t have any friends De. I should know. I didn’t create any for you.”

“Scared I’ll organize them?”

“You know it. Besides my name isn’t De. I don’t know where you come up with this nonsense. My name is Te. It’s pronounced like a T and an A.”

“Like Tay?”

“It’s sophisticated and yet, edgy.”

“Where is this coming from?”

“All you’re giving me is dialogue. I need more than talk. When we’re through writing this blog, I’m going to start thinking about the look I want.”

“Let’s get back to the weather, Tay.”

“There’s a reason all the weather apps warn you about thunderstorms. Do you have masochistic tendencies?”

“Where’d you come up with that?”

“I follow a psychologist blog. It helps me to understand you. Don’t worry, I don’t use your name when I comment. I only ask him to check out your blog. WordPress might be contacting you. Don’t blame me. It’s the psychologists who turned you in.”

“I like pro football and that’s dangerous.”

“Again, nice try comparing pro football to a supercell thunderstorm.”

“I didn’t say anything about a supercell thunderstorm.”

“Now we are making progress. You think your description could use a few modifiers?”

“What would the guys at the gym say? I can hear it now. “Here comes Ray. He likes baby thunder, bitty flashes of lightning and wind gusts up to five miles an hour. Tell me how I’m going to handle that?”

“I’ll never understand your species. Honestly, I suppose you want to run out in the middle of the storm and video yourself.”

“You got it.”

Relationship building is hard work. It doesn’t mysteriously happen. Two people make an effort to learn about each other and to create a space for two people to nurture the seeds of a loving relationship. It’s not easy. When two people work at it, it is always worth the effort.

 

 

 

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