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You Can’t Live Without Me

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“Question, Ray. When we go on our trip, why do I have to go through security?” said La Flor.

“Are you speaking about you and your two groupies?” I asked.

“No, I am speaking about the trip you and I are taking,” said La Flor matter of factly.

“I am going solo. Alone. Traveling with only those who fly with me, which does not include you, Little Carmen, or TT.”

“The way I see it, Ray. You’re wrong. Incorrecto. Mistaken. Try again, you had two choices and the one you chose does not work,” said La Flor laying out three suitcases.

“Give me one, only one good reason why I should let you accompany me on my trip,” I said.

“Oh please. Only one good reason?”

“Yes, and it better be solid gold.  A reason every sane person on the planet would agree as perfect,” I said as I put protein bars in my backpack.

“You’re not packing protein bars for a trip? How awful. To begin with, they taste horrible. The only reason to eat them is to let people think you eat healthily. While you’re at it, why don’t you stuff some kale and spinach leaves in your backpack.”

“I would but I can’t take EVOO on the plane. Don’t change the subject. You haven’t given me one good, solid gold reason for taking you along.”

“I’m going to give you three reasons. Will that satisfy you? said La Flor.

“They better be good,” I said.

“You can’t live without me,” a smug smile on La Flor’s face. Before I could answer, she added, “And, if you try, I’ll find you. I have alt ego friends at BookIt, Jetsetter, and Trivago. You can’t escape. I’ll have your photo plastered all over Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook.”

“Are you threatening me?” I asked.

“No. I’m using the third rule of power persuasion.”

“Which is, La Flor?” I asked.

“If they don’t agree to your idea, give them an alternative that makes the idea sound great.”

“Where did you learn that?”

“LC’s uncle Carmen. He said it a little differently. But, I’m nice,” said La Flor.

“You’re not going to give me any peace until I say yes, am I right?” I asked.

“I promise I’ll be good. I won’t create a scene. I’ll stay in the background. You won’t have to worry about me.”

La Flor has a way of wearing me down, “You’ll have to go through TSA security. No check-in luggage and I get the window seat,” I said.

La Flor turned away from me, “Boys, he agreed. We’re going on vacation.”

From the adjoining room, two voices in acapella, one soprano, the other baritone said, “Thank you beautiful, tough, and edgy persuader.”

We Belong On TV

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La Flor, who’s on again with Little Carmen, had the stray puppy follow her throughout one of San Antonio’s outdoor mecca shopping malls. Little Carmen had to enthusiastically like everything La Flor liked. He was the designated bag carrier. And, according to her set of ground rules he signed, he can’t complain. He only can flirt with her.

As for me, I found an Italian trattoria, had a very tasty leisurely lunch, and after lunch, I did this and that, which I will not divulge because La Flor reads these blogs and counts the number of times she is mentioned. If I divulge this and that, she will know this and that and I will have no getaway places. If La Flor does not have the highest name mentioned count, all hell breaks loose, the bleep hits the fan, and the familiar saying, ‘You haven’t heard the last of this’ is repeatedly repeated.

I returned home around three thirty. I walked into the living room and froze. I wasn’t ready for what I saw. La Flor and Little Carmen sat in swivel chairs, about a foot and half apart. That’s not what stopped me.

They are staring at a camera on a tripod. Operating the camera is Thompson Thomas. He’s the Dr. Phil alt ego who looks like a pencil, receding hairline, has a high-pitched voice. It wasn’t always high pitched. It started sometime after Little Carmen found out he was gaga over La Flor. Little Carmen persuaded him, after a bit of twisting and turning and his voice rising with each twist to let go of his fixation on La Flor. I found this unusual, but not out of the ordinary as far as La Flor is concerned.

I looked at La Flor, frozen in my tracks and said, “What are you doing in a sports bra and bikini bottom? Do you have a sand volleyball game in your future? And, what is Little Carmen doing bare-chested in a bathing suit next to you? He looks like a wooly mammoth.”

“Is that a good look?” asked Little Carmen.

La Flor nodded her head, and said, “We are so adorable and cute, right, Ray?”

“Remember, this is a family blog,” I said.

“We belong on TV. I have a new career and LC is going to the top with me.”

“That’s right, Ray-mo. The beautiful, tough, and edgy sportscaster said, I’m a hanger-goner.”

“Sportscaster? Hanger-goner?”

“You called Little Carmen a hanger-goner?”

“That’s right, Ray. I have high standards. He misses making one compliment to me, he’s a goner.”

“I got to agree with the beautiful, tough, and edgy sportscaster. How’d I do?”

“Perfecto, LC.”

“I gots to learn, Spanish,” said Little Carmen.

“How many TV sportscasters look as good as LC and me? Don’t answer. The answer is obvious. Zero, zero, zero,” La Flor said, making a zero with the thumb and forefinger of each hand, then looking at Little Carmen until he made the third zero.

“How is this going to happen? How will you be discovered?” I said.

“We will be discovered. TT is filming our demo. He’s going to send it to all his contacts. Dr. Phil for one. Dr. Oz for two. And, he knows Bobby Filet. He quit Dr. Phil to work exclusively with us.”

“I think it’s Bobby Flay.”

“No, it’s Filet,” she said.

“I turned to TT, “You did?”

“Uh huh. La Flor promised to set me up with one of her hot girlfriends. She only has hot girlfriends.”

“Let it go, Ray. TT you ready to record our demo?” said La Flor.

“Yes, beautiful, tough, and edgy sportscaster,” said the soprano voiced TT.

“TT not to worry about the voice, it returns to normal in a day or three,” said Little Carmen.

“Thanks, LC. Ready, three, two, one, action,” squeaked TT.

“Welcome to the world’s hottest and cutest sportscasters,” said La Flor.

“Yah, welcome. Check out how beautiful the beautiful, tough, and edgy sportscaster looks today. Can I say you looks more beautiful than you did ten minutes ago?”

La Flor does a half turn, gives Little Carmen a big smile, “You may.”

“You looks more beautiful than you did ten minutes ago.”

La Flor turns back toward the camera, “Here is breaking sports news.”

“Yes, breaking news,” said Little Carmen.

“I am going to the spa tomorrow and getting a seaweed wrap, facial, and massage.”

“That’s terrific beautiful, tough, and edgy sportscaster. Can I gives some breaking news?”

“We only have time for one quick item, LC. Make it a good one.”

“Okay. Breaking news. Tonight’s special at Carmen’s Pizzeria is a double topping of Uncle Gino’s homemade sausage. Use gets a large for eighteen ninety-five and if use says LC sent use, use gets it for five ninety-five.”

“What do you think, Ray? Awesome, right? We’ll probably be leaving here as soon as the sports networks see the demo.”

“You going to take TT with you?”

“Please take me,” squeaked TT.

Tell Me They’re Zirconium

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I’m putting the finishing touches on my blog. I’m quite taken with my brilliance. My ability to twist facts into fiction. My complete understanding of human nature and its nuances, until . . .

“Ray! Ray! Ray!” The voice. The blaring, unceasing tonal demand. The refusal to take no for an answer. To cop a phrase, “She’s more beautiful than a runway model. She’s tougher than a tank of barracudas. She’s edgy enough to pull off any look. It’s La Flor.

“What’s up?” La Flor. I said softly and calmly. I watched a PBS special where I learned speaking softly and calmly works wonders on others.

“Whatever you’re doing, stop. Stop! Stop!” she shouted. So much for soft and quiet.

“Do you mean what am I doing now? Or, do you mean what was I doing?” I’m learning with La Flor. I want to get this right. If I don’t, we’ll carry on for four or five paragraphs.

“Tell me it’s not too late. See, I used too correctly. Please, tell me I’m not too late,” La Flor is pleading with me.

“Too late for what? Dinner? Coffee? Desert? Your favorite reality show? Give me a little help,” I said.

“If only LC were here. He would have reached you on time. I can’t run as fast as LC when I’m wearing stilettos.”

I looked at her feet, “Nice stilettos, how much they set you back?”

“Nothing, I used your card.”

“How much did it set me back?” I asked.

“Not as much as my earrings. Like them,” she said placing her palms behind her ears and pushing the lobs a bit forward.

“Tell me they’re zirconium.”

“Seriously, do you think La Flor is going to wear zirconium?”

Opps, back to speaking in the third person. What am I going to do? Get upset over it. Not a chance. I’ll report the card stolen, I thought.

“And, don’t you dare report the card stolen or lost,” she said.

What is she a mind reader?

“I’m listening to mind reading podcasts, and it seems to be working.”

I needed to change the topic, “Is this an emergency?” I asked.

“Of the first, second, and third order. Maybe the fourth, fifth and sixth orders. Maybe a takeout order,” she said.

Remember, I’m a sensitive guy. At least in my own mind. “Sit down La Flor. I’ll get you a glass of water.”

“Something stronger, por favor.”

“Diet Coke?”

“What I would give for a sensitive male,” she hollered.

“That’s me,” I said.

“Get real,” La Flor answered.

What choice did I have? I brought La Flor a glass of white wine and handed it to her. She took a sip. “Where did you buy this? What did you pay, a dollar seventy-five?”

“Hold on. It was on sale for three ninety-eight.”

She set the wine glass down, reached into her expensive leather, made in Italy, handbag, pulled out a tin of breath mints and took at least a half dozen out and chewed them as if she hadn’t tasted food for six weeks. “I’ll never lose the taste. If you ruined my wine tasting buds, I’ll, I’ll ….”

I finished her sentence, “Tell Ray about the emergency.”

Fortunately, La Flor’s attention span is a tad better than mine, that’s not saying much. She said, “Did you publish the blog?”

“As soon as we’re done I’m going to publish it.”

“I’m in time. Hold it. Keep it in draft. Save it for a slow day. Give it away.”

“Why?”

“I’m turning whistleblower,” she said.

“Whistleblower?” I am happy Little Carmen has to deliver pizzas today. I can only imagine what he would have done with the word whistleblower.

“I’m going to tear down walls. I going to bring the big shots down. I’m going to be famous. Maybe I’ll win a Pulitzer Piñata.”

I knew it was too good to last. The doorbell rang.

“Get it, Ray. It’ll be LC. I asked him to bring me an iced skinny latte while on his pizza deliveries.”

I didn’t have to answer the door. “Hey use guys, I gots your skinny, ninny, latte beautiful, tough, and edgy make me drool all over myself. BT, I can never remember the last letter. Anyways, I made this pie all by myself except for the dough, sauce, cheese, and toppings. Oh, I think it was S.”

“S? No, it’s W,” I said.

“What’s W?” a confused Little Carmen said.

“A letter. BTW, we didn’t order a pizza,” I said.

“It’s okay. It’s already paid for. The guy paid by credit card. I think use got it wrong, Ray-Mo. It’s BTS.”

“He won’t get his pizza,” I said.

“Not if he wants this one,” Little Carmen laughed.

La Flor stared at Little Carmen with a cross between a sense of awe and awful. I couldn’t quite make it out. She said, “Come over here and keep me company LC. Don’t talk while I’m talking. Did you know Ray gave me cheap wine?”

Little Carmen had a look of horror on his face, “Ray-mo. Cheap wine. You gotta nerve.”

La Flor put her forefinger to Little Carmen’s lips, “That’s enough, have a piece of pie and play with your smartphone. Ray, where was I?”

I wanted to say ‘the fourth level of insanity but didn’t. “So,” I said, “You are going to be a whistleblower.”

“Is that like those guys with the striped shirts at the football games?” said Little Carmen.

“LC!”

“Sorry, beautiful, tough, and edgy whistleblower.”

Come back tomorrow for the whistleblower’s story.

 

 

 

His Name is Juan Der-Ful

by

Do you, at times, make impulsive decisions? I do. I made an impulsive decision earlier today I regret. In yesterday’s blog, La Flor* discovered a new main squeeze. His name is Juan. Like La Flor, Juan is an alt ego. I thought it would be a good idea if I invited La Flor and Juan to Carmen’s Pizzeria. It was a good idea because Carmen uses tacky plaid tablecloths, it’s small, and it’s mostly a take out business. Big Carmen and his son, little Carmen, who is bigger than Big Carmen are the cooks and waiters. I was sure La Flor would say no. She didn’t.  and, it is in Carmen’s Pizzeria where the following takes place.

We are sitting at one of six square tables. We’re the only people in Carmen’s other than Big Carmen and Little Carmen.

Juan said, “Nobody’s here.”

Big Carmen overheard Juan, and said, “Me and Little Carmen are here and use is here. So, what’s your problem? Use with the beautiful, tough, and edgy PI?”

Carmen has a way with the ladies.

La Flor puts a kiss on her palm and sends it off to Big Carmen. Big Carmen said, “If Gina was visiting her mother, I’d ask

Big Carmen said, “If Gina was visiting her mother, I’d ask use to come over. Not use, whoevers you are,” Big Carmen jabs a large flour covered forefinger toward Juan. Then he said,  “I’m talking to the beautiful, tough, and edgy PI.”

La Flor winked at Big Carmen. Then she said, “Now I know where Little Carmen gets his good looks.This table is perfect.”

Big Carmen turns toward Little Carmen, “The beautiful, tough, and edgy PI is one smart dame.”

Back at the table, La Flor said, “What are you doing Juan?”

“I was sitting down, La Flor.”

“Did you forget something?”

I know where this going. A fast ball catches the inside corner of the plate. Strike one. Juan’s young, naïve, self-centered, typical male at that age. I said, “She wants you to help her with her chair.”

Juan looks at the chair, then he looks at me. He looks back at the chair, then he looks at La Flor. I can almost feel his brain trying to make a connection it never made. It’s painful to watch. La Flor cocks a hip and puts a hand on it. I whisper to Juan, “Pull her chair out and don’t forget to slide it in under her as she sits down.”

“Oh. Thanks, man,” said Juan.

La Flor and Juan slide their chairs to the corner of the table. They are holding hands. La Flor, in my opinion, overdressed for Carmen’s, but if anyone can pull it off, it’s La Flor. Juan is staring at her, I want to ask Big Carmen if he has if a bib for Juan, he’s drooling. Instead, I want to get to know this alt ego better. I said, “What is your last name Juan?

Before Juan can answer, La Flor jumped in, she said, “I already told you. Are you sure you’re not having short-term memory problems, Ray?”

“You told me Juan’s last name?” I said.

“Duh, yes I did. His name is Juan Der Ful.”

Juan nodded his head, “Yes I have a hyphenated last name. My mother’s name is Dür and my father’s name is Ful so I’m Juan Der-Ful.”

“How did your parents chose the name Juan,” I asked.

La Flor squeezed Juan’s hand and said, “Do you mind if I tell him?”

Juan shrugs and said, “It’s okay.”

La Flor said, “When the nurse asked his mom what they wanted to name Juan, she said Won.”

“That makes sense.” I said.

“No, Ray. She said, Won.”

“Like the number,” I said.

“No, Ray. You are slow. Won, like winning a game.  It still works because Juan is Juan Der-Ful.”

Little Carmen who is six feet three inches tall, his dark grunge is spotted with flour. his chest and arms overdeveloped from lifting one-hundred-pound sacks of flour came over wearing his sauce and flour stained apron, “Whatchu guys want. How ya doin, beautiful, tough, and edgy PI? You free after? Maybe use and me we go dancing at the new hot alt ego dance club.”

La Flor gives Little Carmen an encouraging smile. Juan makes his first bad move, he gives off a slight scent of male testosterone.

Juan turns toward Little Carmen and is about to say something I fear he will regret until he visits an oral surgeon. Little Carmen spoke first, “Use better be giving me use order and not any crap about me asking the beautiful, tough, and edgy PI to go dancing after she dumps use for the night.”

Juan moved to male level two until he noticed the twelve-inch cutting knife in Little Carmen’s holding left hand. Instead, Juan said, “We haven’t seen menu’s.”

“That’s okay. Me and Big Carmen, we can make any pizza anybody wants, if they wants pizza. Do use wants pizza?” said Little Carmen waving the knife like he was conducting the symphony.

I saw it happen a couple of times before and it never worked out. Juan decides to go full throttle and impress La Flor. He said, “I’ll order for everyone.”

“I looked at La Flor. I know how picky she is about her pizza. And, she is not as picky as me. She rolled her eyes and slid her chair away from the corner of the table.

Juan said, “We want anchovies, lots of them. Don’t skimp. We want sausage baked into the crust. We want big black and green olives. I want you to spell La Flor with the olives. Instead of mozzarella can you use Velveeta.”

Juan sat back his chair, a sense of male pride sweeping over his body. His arms crossed over his chest.

Little Carmen bends over and puts his large, somewhat bent nose three inches from Juan’s face, and said, “The beautiful, tough, and edgy PI don’t like pizza like that. Whoever heard of pizza with Velveeta?”

Juan still being cool said, “Pizza Hut serves it.”

Bam, Little Carmen sticks the point of the knife into the tablecloth. “Big Carmen don’t use Velcheeta. And we don’t have lots of anchovies. Use gets four. No more.”

Big Carmen looks at La Flor, “Does the beautiful, tough, and edgy PI want her special pie with a glass of wine, on the house of course.”

Juan said, “I’ve had enough.”

Little Carmen turned back to Juan and said, “Use full already. That’ll be ten fifty. Thanks for coming. There’s the door.”

Juan looked at La Flor. La Flor was looking at Little Carmen.

I said, “Juan, it’s better if you leave. I’ll cover your tab.”
Today’s Lesson: A Little Carmen in the hand is worth two Juans in a bush (I know it’s not deep or profound. And, it doesn’t make much sense. It was the best I could do on a Saturday).

* La Flor is a fictional character and acts as my alt ego. Her character has evolved over the blog posts. She began with a single letter as her name. Her name gradually grew to two letters, then three before she settled on La Flor. She liked the name because it fit her idea of a beautiful, tough, and edgy feminine PI.  It is my interaction with her persona that serves as the source of these blog posts. I have no notion how La Flor will continue to evolve. It is an adventure for me as well as the reader.

 

 

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

by

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 Waited 6 Months For This?

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Today is the summer solstice. I waited six months for this day.

“Give me a clue, Ray. Why did you wait for six months for this day? I don’t get it.”

“I was speaking with my readers, not you. BTW, what is your name today?”

“Y.”

“Because I am the writer and you are the creation. That’s Y.”

“You’re right, but your grammar could improve.”

“Why?”

“That’s better.”

“I feel like we’re going in circles. I wanted to write about the summer solstice. I’m off to a good start and you enter and confound everything. Something you do very well.”

“I accept your comment as a compliment.”

“Why? It was meant to show you that you need to take a six-year vacation in another galaxy, light years away.”

“Why?”

“Really? You don’t get it? Let’s be civilized for a moment. What is your name if it is not B, P, or C?”

“I’m Y. So don’t ask me why? Stay with me, Ray. You’ve got some smart folks that read this blog, Only God knows why. My last statement has a double meaning if you’re quick enough to grasp it. Let’s toss the smart, nerdy ones a bonus for reading this far in the blog.”

“What do you suggest, Y.”

That’s the boy. You’re catching on. Here’s a link to the hours of the summer solstice. Most of the maps are North America, but there is a world map in the bunch.

Celebrate the summer solstice in the northern hemisphere. It’s a day of light.

Imagine if our lives were filled with light to help others who struggle along the way. Every day would be a summer solstice.

 

We Are Not Defeated

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“The sea is not less beautiful in our eyes because we know that sometimes ships are wrecked by it.” ― Simone Weil

I enjoy walking barefoot on the seashore. There is something soothing, peaceful about the rhythm of the ocean’s waves. The seagulls and sandpipers dance above and in front of me. I look out over the great expanse of the ocean and marvel at this beautiful, awesome planet I live on. I see the beauty of it. I don’t snap photos with my iPhone. The photos will never do justice to the emotions I feel as I enjoy the scene. I know, at the same time, this peaceful place can turn its back on me and swamp me with high, crashing waves. I’ve seen the videos of the destruction and damage it can cause when its power is unleashed. We have not yet learned how to tame the oceans. It laughs at our puny efforts. All we can do is wait out the fury, knowing it will once again return to its peaceful place. And we can once again walk on its shores enjoying its beauty.

We have not yet learned how to tame the oceans. It laughs at our puny efforts. All we can do is wait out the fury, knowing it will once again return to its peaceful place. And we can once again walk on its shores enjoying its beauty.

It’s the same way with life. We find ourselves in a peaceful space and want to remain in that place for the rest of our lives. It doesn’t work that way. Life’s storms thrash us and knock us down. We are not defeated nor are we destroyed by life’s storms. We know the storms will end and we once again will find our peaceful space.

seasore1.jpg

Hold On

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Keep Your Eyes on the Prize

Paul and Silas, bound in jail
Had no money for to go their bail
Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on
Hold on, (hold on), hold on, (hold on)
Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on!
Hold on, (hold on), hold on, (hold on)
Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on!
 
Paul and Silas began to shout
Doors popped open, and they walked out
Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on
Hold on, (hold on), hold on, (hold on)
Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on!
 
Well, the only chains that we can stand
Are the chains of hand in hand
Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on  – African American Folk Song
Life happens. It happens to everyone. We have no idea what the next moment will bring. Life happens. In moments of triumph, we shout for joy. In moments of happiness, we laugh, dance, and sing. I moments of sorrow, we cry and fight despair and depression. Life happens.
Hold on. Hold on. Keep your eyes on the prize as the African American folk song encourages us to do. In our darkest hours, hold on, there is a way through, there is a way out. Hold on. Keep your eyes on the prize. It’s there waiting for you and me.

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