relationships

I Need My Piece of Chocolate

by

“La Flor*, I think it’s time we had a frank discussion about chores in our house.”

“I don’t have time, Ray. My plate is full.”

“Help me, La Flor. What do you mean by, your plate is full?”

“Do you really want me to tell you everything I do? It will take some time.  I’ll cut to the chase, I need an administrative assistant.”

“You need an administrative assistant? Why?”

“If you followed me. Ray, you’d understand. I don’t know how much longer I can keep up my frantic pace. Please create one in for me?”

“Create one for you? Surely, you’re jesting?”

“I jest not. Make my administrative assistant about 6 feet 3 inches. A male with a six pack and I’m not talking beer.  He’ll need a good sense of humor to match mine. Thick dark hair so I can run my hands through it. He’ll look good in jeans or a tux. A personality that will jump at my beck and call. And, one who is going to escort me wherever I want to go, when I want to go.”

“Having a tough time finding a guy to fill this description?”

“It’s a tough world I face every day, Ray. I’d like to think one of your species might step up.”

“I see you’ve put a lot of thought into this, La Flor. How long have you been thinking about an administrative assistant?”

“Since the breakup. I’m not getting enough sleep with everything I have to do. You might think of picking up a bit of the slack.”

“What do you do, La Flor, besides giving me a difficult time? Do you think you could fold, sort, and deliver clothes after they come out of the dryer.”

“No can do, Ray. That is one the ten worst jobs in the world. It’s a big time stress producer. I’ll ruin my nails. The heat from the dryer will damage my skin. When I took this job as your alt ego, there was nothing said about folding, sorting, and delivering clothes from the dryer. No alt ego in her right mind would accept such a job. Notice I did not say “his” because we all know that male alt egos are often not in their right minds, so they might accept the job.”

“Just tell me a couple of the things you do that keep your plate full.”

“I’ll give you the biggee. I have to spend a google of time in front of the mirror making myself look beautiful, tough, and edgy. Remember, I am La Flor, PI.”

“You will not let me forget you are La Flor, PI. What else do you do?”

“I consult with my friend at the mystery writers blog.  We go out for coffee at Starbucks. They make a much better cup of coffee than you do, Ray.”

“That one hurt. How much time do you spend at Starbucks?”

“It depends. We might be there all day if there are any good looking, unattached guys hanging around. It’s a full-time job looking for the right guy. They are a rare find in your species.”

“How about cooking meals once or a week?”

“That is so old school, Ray. Have you heard of the code word restaurant?”

“What about vacuuming.”

“I prefer to get my exercise at the gym. You never know when I’ll need a good-looking guy to spot for me as I lift weights.”

“I suppose cutting the grass is out of the question?”

“Yes, it’s out of the question. So is sweeping the floor. So is cleaning the bathroom. Do you think the Queen of England does any of these things? And, do you think any of the first ladies have ever done any of these things? Case closed.”

“Are you comparing yourself to the Queen of England? Or, to the first ladies?”

“Oh no, I have so much more going for me.”

“Can you see how my plate is full?”

“I think I just entered a parallel universe.”

“I don’t have time to go there.”

“Where?”

“The parallel universe. I forgot to mention with everything I have to do, I don’t have time to waste in some parallel universe. Is that down by The Gap? Are we done? I’ve got something important to do.”

“What’s that, La Flor?”

“I need my piece of chocolate so my heart will be healthy. I’m going to take a box of chocolates and go to see my friend at the mystery writers blog. We will have chocolates, something to drink, and good conversation. I’d love Pasta tonight, ciao.”

“Ciao?”

Each day life fills us with surprises. Some we embrace with open arms, others embrace us whether we like it or not. Getting upset over life’s unpleasant surprises doesn’t help solve the problems they present. Identifying constructive ways to work through or around our problems is an emotionally healthy path to follow. 

* 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.

 

 

 

 

 

Is There an Alt Ego PI Meetup?

by

I’m practicing my PI observation techniques. Ray is out on the patio watching the birds. He has a large glass of iced tea next to him. The glass is sweating. It’s south Texas. It’s summer. And, it’s hotter than hell. I’ve never been to hell, I have no intention of going there. But, if it’s anything like a town we passed through on a trip through west Texas, I want no part of it.

Ray’s lips are moving. He either talking to the birds or to himself. I’m wondering if I should go outside and see if he suffering from heatstroke. No, it’s too hot. I’ll keep an eye on him. If he slumps over, falls out of the chair, or starts dancing the salsa without salsa music, I’ll call 911. The paramedics are used to heat cases. Oh no, he’s getting up. He’s coming in. I don’t have time to move his laptop and delete this file…

“What are you doing with my laptop, La Flor*?”

“What laptop, Ray?”

“The one in front of you.”

“That’s a laptop? I thought it was a table ornament,” La Flor said, arranging my MacBook to align with the table edges.

“Were you trying to write a blog?” I asked.

“Who me?” La Flor said, pointing an index finger to her chest.

“Yes, you.”

“Are you serious, Ray?”

“I am serious. It is my personal computer.”

“I thought we shared everything in this household.”

“I don’t share your attitude, La Flor.”

“I’m willing to share it with you, it might help.”

“Let me see what you wrote.”

“They were random thoughts. I’ll delete the file,” La Flor said and opened the MacBook.

“No, you don’t,” I said and took a step toward the table.

“Yes, I do.” La Flor rapidly tapped keys as if she were a virtuoso pianist.  “Too late I deleted everything,” she said. A smirk smile on her face.

“Have you heard of the cloud?” I said giving La Flor my impression of a smirk smile.

La Flor walked to the window. She opened the plantation shutters. She gazed at the Texas summer sky. “It’s a perfectly clear day, not a cloud in the sky. I think you had too much sun.”

“I have the file on my iPhone. I retrieved it from the cloud,” I said.

“Did not. There are no clouds; you are not going to trick me,” said La Flor, her arms folded.

“Let me read it to you,” I said.

“It’s not fair. You make something up and put it in the blog. You don’t care about my feelings,” said La Flor doing a poor job of acting hurt.

“You trying out for the local theater group? Meeting a new set of friends might be a nice change,” I said.

“I don’t do local theater. I don’t do church choirs. I don’t do sneak and peek cases if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said.

“You should read my friend’s blog. It might help.

I offered La Flor a suggestion, “Is there a PI meetup? Maybe you’ll meet a male alt ego PI. Someone with the same interests.”

“Problemo, Ray.”

“What is the problemo, La Flor?”

“First, it’s a good thing we’re fluent in a foreign language. You never know who is listening.”

“Or, reading,” I added.

“I’m smarter, tougher, and edgier than any male alt ego PI. I didn’t want to toss my beauty in, it would be overkill.”

“Is that a problem?” I asked.

“For me, no. For males, duh! You know your species.”

“It would be a chance in ten million, no make it twenty million, no make it beyond impossible.”

What?” I asked.

“Finding a male alt ego smarter, tougher, edgier than me. But, they will all act like they are. There is the problem.”

“I see your point.”

“Think about it, Ray. There’s got to be more to life than sitting in at a PI meetup with a bunch of guys trying to outdo the other with stories they’re making up. I might add, there’s more to life than sitting on a patio watching birds fly in and out five bird feeders and talking to them.”

“We’re running out of space, La Flor. You started today’s blog, why don’t you end it.”

“I thought you’d never ask, Ray.”

“I’m talking to women out there, all the beautiful, tough, edgy women like me, La Flor PI.  And of course, to all the men who want to meet the beautiful, tough, and edgy women like me, La Flor PI.”

“La Flor,” I said.

“Don’t interrupt me, Ray, I’m on a roll.”

Chase your dreams, girls.  Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not smart enough or worthy of good things happening to you.  Don’t settle for second best, third best, or fourth best. If it doesn’t happen right away, don’t quit. Don’t give up. When you give your best, what you give will be good for everyone.

“Are you going to edit this, Ray?”

“Not at all, La Flor. Your advice is good for everyone. It’s good for men and women, alt egos, and everyone in between. You did a good job.”

“Thanks, Ray.  Now let’s get bust loose.”

* 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.

Please Don’t Take My Coffee

by

Sometimes the simple pleasures in life are the best pleasures; like sitting down at my breakfast bar enjoying a hot cup of dark roasted coffee. I like my coffee in a clear cup that way I enjoy the variants of the coffee’s colors. I smell the aroma of cocoa and the smokey scent as it wafts up to my nose. I anticipate my first sip the way a young child anticipates Christmas. As I’m bringing my cup to my lips, I hear…

“Ray,  Ray don’t take that sip. Hand me your cup, por favor,” said La Flor*.

I hand my cup to La Flor. She takes hold of it. Steps away from me and simultaneously grabs the coffee pot. She carries my cup and the pot of coffee to the door leading to the patio.

“What are you doing, La Flor? Leave my coffee alone. Don’t take it away from me. Why are you wearing sunglasses? The sun is barely up?”

“My sunglasses are a statement any time of day. The coffee’s mine, Ray. It’s all mine. Don’t dare follow me. I’m desperate. I need it all.”

“Please, La Flor don’t kid with me. I’ll get a caffeine headache. I’ll have the shakes by 9 a.m. I’ll be mean-tempered by 9:05 a.m. I won’t be able to finish my blog.”

“I’m saving your life.”

“You are not saving my life,” I said.

“Am too,” she said.

“Are not,” I said and wished I didn’t say it. When am I going to get out of third grade?

La Flor had one leg out the door, her butt pushing the door open. Her eyes darting between the patio and me. She said, “Am too.”

I had to break the cycle of silliness. I said, “How are you saving my life?”

“I’m saving you from someone who could be potentially dangerous if she didn’t have a lot of coffee this morning.”

“Do I know this person?” I asked.

“La Flor PI doesn’t want to answer that question.”

“Why are you talking in the third person?” I asked.

La Flor took a quick look around the kitchen, then said, “I only see you, Ray. Then, of course, there is me, whom I can’t see because I can’t hold a mirror, coffee cup, and coffee pot at the same time. I don’t see a third person. I don’t understand why you said I was talking in the third person.”

“You’re taking this too far, La Flor. Take my XBox. Take my iPad. But, please don’t take my coffee.”

“Too bad, Ray. It comes with the territory of living in the same quarters with La Flor, beautiful, tough, and edgy PI. Think of me as your personal security.”

“I don’t recall hiring you as a bodyguard. I don’t recall hiring you for anything. What time did you get in last night?”

“Let’s not change the subject, Ray.”

I knew I was on to something, I pushed on, “Let’s change the subject, La Flor. Did you get in?”

“Let’s put it this way, The time I got in is the time I got in. Does this make sense to you?”

“La Flor, do you think you are talking to one of your alt ego males?”

“It was worth a shot, Ray. They’re not too bright.”

“How much sleep did you get?”

“La Flor, beautiful, tough, and edgy PI, doesn’t sleep when she’s on the job.”

“Please quit with the third-person. It’s going to give me the hives. Did you just get home?”

“I’m home now. That should count for something. I was out having breakfast with my mystery writer blog friend. We wanted an early morning breakfast. I knew this day would be action-packed trying to keep you out of trouble. I chose a healthy breakfast instead of eating something you might make for me.”

“You don’t think oatmeal and Greek yogurt and fruit are healthy?”

“Oh, heavens no, Ray. And when you add walnuts and flaxseed to your Greek yogurt, it’s a turnoff.”

“May I ask where you had breakfast and what you ate?”

“Sure, we got breakfast tacos at Paco’s Taco food truck.”

“I think I am catching on, La Flor. Let me guess, Paco’s Taco food truck happened to be in front of the alt ego bar. Is this a correct assumption?”

“You’re on fire. You didn’t need your coffee. I’m going to sit on the patio. I have a headache, my eyes feel swollen, and my tongue tastes terrible. Please don’t play music.”

“Are you hungover?”

“I like to experience all life has to offer.”

“Enjoy the coffee and peace, La Flor. I’m headed for Starbucks.”

“Thanks, Ray.”

One thing we share in common is imperfections. Recognizing my imperfections helps me to accept La Flor in her imperfections. She didn’t need a lecture or to feel shame for her long night or hangover. She was being who she is and figuring her way through her alt ego life in much the same way as I am figuring my way through life. We all need more understanding and lot less criticism.

* 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.

 

 

 

 

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

by

I open the door to La Flor’s room. She’s lying on her bed in a fetal position, her pillow covering her head. Her iPad blaring blues music.

“La Flor* what’s wrong?” I said.

Her muffled voice said, “I don’t want to talk, Ray. Leave me alone go away.”

“No, I am not going to leave you alone until you talk to me. I want to know what’s wrong. You are not a blues music kind of girl. You walk and talk with the beat of life kind of girl. Now get out of the fetal position and let’s go into the kitchen and have some coffee and talk about whatever is bothering you.”

Grudgingly, Flor untangled herself from her fetal position and sat up on the edge of the bed.

I took a look at her and said, “I think you should go to the bathroom and freshen up a bit.”

“Do I look that bad?” La Flor’s eyes raised to meet mine.

“Yes,” I answered. I knew right away, I said the wrong thing. It’s a species thing. I got to work on it.

“Are you going to put that in the blog? I don’t want my readers thinking I had a bad look.”

“Too late, it’s already in,” another male faux pax.

La Flor rose from the bed, went to the bathroom, turned to me, and said, “Is there any ice cream left? What about the chocolate cake? I think there were couple Fudgsicles left.”

“You cleaned up the ice cream. You licked the crumbs from the one-third of chocolate cake that was left until the plate. The Fudgsicles sticks have no chocolate stain on them.”

“Can you send out for pizza?”

“You can’t eat your way through this.”

“I can try.”

“Do you know how much weight you will gain if you keep this up?”

“If you’re good friend, you will write that no matter how much I eat I don’t gain an ounce.”

“I’m a good friend, but not that good of a friend. You’ve got to get control of yourself. Now go freshen up and we’ll talk.”

“10 minutes later I knocked on the bathroom door, “La Flor you have to come out of the bathroom.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You have to face the world.”

“I don’t have anything to live for.”

“Coffee and a snack are ready for you.”

The bathroom door opened. La Flor stepped out. I gave her a smile. She walked past me into the kitchen.

We sat at the table.  La Flor and I both have filled coffee mugs in front of us.

“Where is my snack?” she said.

I walked to the refrigerator and brought out a small bowl of blackberries and strawberries.

La Flor stared at them, then said, “At least you could have had chocolate covered strawberries and chocolate covered blackberries.” She got up, went to the cupboard and pulled out a jar of peanut butter.

I said, “Okay La Flor, spill the beans what is it, I have a feeling it is guy trouble.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“No, I could hardly tell anything was bothering you.”

“I do hold my feelings well.”

“Yeah, it was a wild guess on my part,” I said.

“I got an email from Jack.”

“And, what did Jack say?”

“He said he was thinking of getting a court order to have me cease-and-desist from stalking him.”

“Were you stalking him?”

“No, I was not stalking him. He mistook my 300 texts a day as stalking.  And, only 100 texts each day were selfies so he wouldn’t forget me.”

“It appears that your relationship is over. Look in the mirror, you are Leflore, beautiful, tough, and edgy, PI.”

La Flor pulled the teaspoon full of peanut butter away from her lips and smiled. She said, “Ray, you are right. He’s getting to be old-school. I’ve got to set my sights higher. He probably goes to bed at 9 o’clock. My day is just beginning at that time.”

“You’re a night owl.”

“That’s when the action starts, Ray.” La Flor looked over to the trash basket and said, “Did you eat all the cake and ice cream? You didn’t save me a Fudgsicle? I have a suggestion for you.”

“What is it, La Flor?”

“When you go to the Y, spend two hours at full speed. Maybe you can cut half of those calories off.”

“Maybe so La Flor, maybe so.  What are you going to do?”

“I’m texting my friend at the mystery writers blog and seeing if she wants to go out with me tonight. There’re lots of fish in the ocean.”

May the good Lord have mercy on the male alt ego species.

We all have down times. We all slip into depression. That’s where friends count. A friend who will be there with us. A friend who will not judge us. A friend who will listen quietly. And, a friend who will help lift us out of the darkness and into the sunlight.

* 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 Will Never Understand Your Species

by

“Ray, I’ve come up with a great idea for your blog today.”

“This ought to be good, La Flor*.  Last time you suggested a blog topic, you wanted me to write about the health benefits of wearing Christian Louboutin high heels. All I could think about were the impending lawsuits.”

“Start thinking about an attitude shift, Ray. Your blogs need to be edgy. They’re not. Your blogs should be groundbreaking. They’re not. Your blogs need to focus on the alt ego market share. They don’t.”

“Thanks for the blog critique, La Flor. The alt ego market is virtually untapped.”

“Now you’re thinking.”

“Okay, La Flor, I’m game, what is your idea for today’s blog?”

“La Flor, PI is on duty 24/7.”

“I get that. That’s your idea?”

“No, that is not my idea. But, because I am on duty 24/7 I found the dirt on your species that is going to make you World famous.”

“I have no desire to be world-famous.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“If we keep going, I’ll have my blog. You have dirt on my species that no one knows about? Do you know what you’re talking about?”

“Ellen and Oprah will be all over it. Movies will be on Oxygen. You’ll need an agent. I have an alt ego friend who’ll do me a fav and take you on”

“Fav?”

“You’ve got to start thinking and talking Hollywood, Ray.”

“Okay, I’ll think Hollywood, if it will help us get to the end.”

“When we went to the Y today to work out, I discovered something about your species that no one knows now but me.”

“Are you sure This is going to be new and groundbreaking?”

“I made videos with my iPhone to show on E!”

“I didn’t buy you an iPhone, where did you get it?”

“One of my friends at another blog understands how tight you are with money. She had her creator write me in a blog and give me an iPhone.”

“Wait a minute, you were written in the blog without my permission.”

“No, they had your permission, I signed your name to the permission slip.”

“You forged my name, then took photos of my species. I hope you didn’t go into the locker room.”

“What kind of beautiful, tough, and edgy private investigator do you think I am?”

“I plead the 5th Amendment.”

“I didn’t go in the men’s locker room. But, I did observe eight of your species for 20 minutes. And, when I give you this information it’s strictly on the QT.”

“I can hardly wait,” I said, trying to keep myself from dozing off.

“All eight of the members of your species were lifting weights.”

“That’s not unusual at the Y. I don’t consider that groundbreaking or earth shattering.”

“Do you know what they were doing while they were lifting weights?”

“I have no idea. I was busy on the elliptical machine. And, BTW watching ESPN.”

“Your species is narcissistic. Each of the men, while they were lifting weights, was staring at themselves in the mirror and watching their muscles go up and down. I don’t understand your species. Do they think that that turns women on?”

“I don’t know, you’ll have to ask your species.”

“Oh, for heaven sakes, Ray. No, it doesn’t turn us on.”

“Give my species a bit of a break, La Flor. There are few things in life we truly enjoy. Football, Fantasy Football, the NFL draft, waiting for football season, and watching our muscles while we lift weights at the gym.”

“I will never understand your species.”

“Don’t even try La Flor. It’s a mystery, even to me; and, I’m one of the species.”

Trying to understand why someone does something is a natural human phenomenon. Yet, it often results in faulty conclusions, incorrect judgments, and inaccurate responses. Even where the relationship is trusting, open, and honest, both parties may never fully understand the why of behavior. If it causes problems, resolve not to do it again, ask forgiveness, reconcile, and move on.

* 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’ll Have a Margarita

by

“I am bored Ray. Let’s do something other than blog, blog, blog.”

‘What do you suggest, La Flor*? You got your start because of a blog and now you’re turning your back on it? It smacks of being a bit ungrateful, don’t you think?”

“Not at all. You don’t listen to the same song all the time, do you? I am so tired of you playing the same songs every morning over and over again. I’ve memorized all of them.

“I like those songs. Besides, you don’t sound like George Strait.”

“It’s the same food for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Today’s Friday, and I already know what you’re going to cook for Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. How about the time you leave for the Y? Shall I continue?”

“Stop. I get your point. What do you suggest we do to break the routine?”

“Let’s go to the Riverwalk. You can order your iced tea. I’ll get a margarita. And, we will people watch and make snap judgments.”

“A Margarita?” I asked.

“What other kinds of drink do you suggest for a beautiful, tough, and edgy PI on the San Antonio Riverwalk?”

“How about ice water with lemon?”

30 minutes later we were sitting under red, white, and green umbrella at a table next to the San Antonio River on the Riverwalk. Crowds of people passing by looking for an empty table. Good luck to them and the Red Sox. It’s a good thing I’m writing this blog. I made sure we got a table with a view so we could make our snap judgments. Crowds of people passing by looking for an empty table. Good luck to them and the Red Sox. It’s a good thing I’m writing this blog. I made sure we got a table with a view so we could make our snap judgments.

A mariachi band was playing close by. I like mariachi music. There’s something about it that will never make the top of the charts, yet, it tugs at the heartstrings – especially when you’re writing a blog. When the song ended, the leader of the mariachi band came over. He took off his sombrero and bow, then said, “Senor, would you like us to play a haunting romantic melody for the señorita and you?”

I was about to say no, when La Flor said, “Perfecto.”

I wondered where La Flor was picking up her knowledge of the Spanish language. Within seconds, a trumpet player, a violin player, and a guitar player who doubled as a vocalist surrounded us. We were the center of attention on the Riverwalk. I wanted to crawl under the table. La Flor moved her chair closer to me. I looked at her and said, “You’re embarrassing me.”

She grabbed hold of my arm. I removed it. She grabbed hold of it again. With my other hand, I reached into my pants pulled out a $20 and asked the leader to move on. A wave of the sombrero, a bow, and thankfully La Flor released my arm to applaud.

“You are not my girlfriend,” I said.

She said, “I’m a girl, right?”

“Right,” I answered, too blind to see the sixteen-wheeler approaching me at 110 miles an hour.approaching me at 110 miles an hour.approaching me at 110 miles an hour.

“I’m your friend, right?” she said.

“Right,” I answered and switched metaphors. ‘Houston, Houston,” my mind screamed, ‘I have a problem.’ Only problem, NASA isn’t reading my mind.

I fell head first into the fifth-grade trap.

La Flor said, “Then I’m your girlfriend.”

“What about Jack Reacher?” I asked.

“What Jack doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” she said.

“How many margaritas have you had?” I asked.

“Not to worry, Ray. The chips and salsa absorb the Marguerite.”

“What are you talking about?”

La floor didn’t answer me. She took one more sip of her margarita and said, with the littlest voice I’ve heard in years, “Ray, I’m so happy you are the designated driver. La Flor PI is taking the rest of the day off. Can we go home?” Burp

We went to the Riverwalk with the intention of making snap judgments on other people. All in good fun. Not intending any harm. We didn’t make any snap judgments. There may have been many snap judgments made about us and deservedly so. I have no intention of making any towards La Flor. She’s sleeping so I can tell you she has a heart of gold and her rough edges, at times, obscure the wonderful person she is. That is true of all of us. Our rough edges often hide our genuine goodness.

* 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.

 

 

You Can’t Keep Your Feelings Bottled

by

“Why are we here, La Flor? I’m only going along with this to keep you happy. A happy character is a contented character.”

“If our relationship is going to work, Ray. We need counseling.”

“What relationship?”

“Why are men afraid of relationship counseling? Don’t be afraid of letting it go, Ray.”

“Letting what go?”

“Your feelings. You can’t keep them bottled inside.”

“BTW, men are not afraid of relationship counseling. It’s just, just that it conflicts with ESPN, the Comedy Channel, fantasy football, and wondering what’s for dinner. Besides, I’m not afraid of counseling. I just don’t need it because there is no relationship between the two of us.”

“There is the problem.”

“What problem?”

“You’re in denial.”

“About what?”

“Our relationship.”

“What relationship?”

We’re going in circles, Ray. Can we change the subject?

“Okay, what is the name of the psychologist? Is it a male or female? Why didn’t I get a voice in the matter?”

“He is very famous. He comes highly recommended. I thought having a male psychologist would make you feel more comfortable.”

“Who recommended this psychologist?”

“My mystery writer girlfriend. She used him in one of her mysteries to break a cold case,” said La Flor paying more attention to her emery board than to me.

“La Flor, let me see if I have this straight. I’m going to counseling with a fictitious character I created because she thinks she and I have a relationship problem?”

“Right.”

“I’m not finished. Your good friend, who writes a mystery writers blog, whom I’m never met, recommended a psychologist she uses in her blog to solve cold cases.”

“Right.”

“I have more. I believe the mystery writer is the alt ego of a real person and is a created character like you.”

“You’re on fire, Ray.”

“What am I, a real person, doing going to counseling with a fictitious psychologist suggested by a fictitious blog writer and character I created over relationship problems?”

“He can help, Ray. He’s a very, very famous psychiatrist.”

“And, whom might he be?”

“Dr. Joe Brothers. He’s Joyce Brothers twin brother. He married Dr. Phil’s sister. Sounds strange, right.”

“I’m having a difficult time following you, La Flor. Are you sure about your facts?”

“You’re confusing Dr. Joe Brothers with Sigmund Fraud. Check that, Dr. Phil. That’s it, you’re confusing Dr. Brothers with Dr. Phil.”

“You did say Sigmund Fraud, not Freud? Does Joe have a mustache?”

“Yes, Sigmund Fraud was the famous one, the other one stole all his ideas. As for Dr. Joe, he did have a mustache, just like Dr. Phil, but he went to an alt ego dermatologist from Dr. Oz’s blog and had it lasered off. The dermatologist worked the laser like LeBron James works a basketball.”

“He must be good.”

“The best in the blogosphere. Be quiet, here he comes.”

Dr. Joe Brothers ignored me and walked over to La Flor. She rose to greet him. They hug. He said, “La Flor, how delicious to see you again.” Kiss, kiss on each cheek.

I said, “La Flor, is this the Dr. Joe Brothers you were telling me about?”

Brothers looked at me without turning his head, nice trick the way he moved his eyes so the one blue iris and one green iris rested in the corners of his eyes. From the way he kept his face toward La Flor, I was sure he had a crush on her. He mumbled something about my nose and ears I didn’t catch. He should talk, he’s got at least three-quarters of an inch on me if we’re measuring noses. He took La Flor by the hand and ushered her into his office, I trailed behind.

Brothers had an iPad he pretended to type notes on. I know he pretended because Siri kept saying “Please change your settings if you want to access this site.”

He turned the iPad over and said to me, “May I call you Way?”

He attempted to sound like he was from some European country. But you can take the boy out of Brooklyn, but you can’t take Brooklyn out of the boy.

“My name is Ray, not Way.”

“Are you making fun of my wisp?”

I turned to La Flor and said, “Why are we here? This isn’t real. He’s not real. He’s a character like you.”

“Way,” Dr. Brothers said, “Have you considered that we are weal and you are not weal?”

“What do you mean by weal?” I said, irritated.

“It’s this way, Way. What’s weal is weal.”

If I didn’t think he was real, what was I doing here? Had I lost my grip on reality? It’s all La Flor’s doing.

He turned to La Flor and said, “Ways denial is wery deep.

“I’m going to rewrite the whole thing,” I said.

He turned to La Flor, “Darling, I thought you said it was your blog?”

“Matter of time, but don’t call me darling, one man has my heart.”

“Is it Way?”

“No, it’s Jack Reacher.”

“I thought we left that two blogs ago,” I said

“A girl can dream can’t she right? Can’t she?”

Every now and then our relationships hit a bump in the road. Small bumps may seem like mountains. When both parties have the courage to step back and acknowledge their relationship is worth the effort to save it; it is the first step to smoothing out the bump, growing closer, and becoming stronger as a couple. It takes two, it always takes two to make it work. When both express their feelings in an open, honest and non-threatening way, breakthroughs happen.

 

Did You Get Gift Receipts?

by

Something I’ve vowed I would never do, I went ahead and did. What did I vow never to do and go ahead and do it, you ask?

It’s quite simple. I called Orkin, the pest control people. When they refused to help, I went on Angie’s list and started calling the pest control experts one after the other. Some were rude to me. Others laughed at me. And, others told me they were going to report me to one agency or the other. I really didn’t do anything. All I wanted to do was to get rid of La Flor for a couple of hours.  I’ve come to like La Flor. I won’t tell her that. And, I ask you to keep my confidence. If I did, she would want a bigger role in this blog.

I thought it would be a good idea to let her take my credit card and go shopping. What could it hurt? I have no idea what this is going to cost. But the peace of mind I’ve achieved over the past two hours has been worth every cent. What was I thinking?

“Ray, Ray. I’m back. Did you miss me?”

All of a sudden, my stomach hurt. My heart is pounding. My right eyelid is sending signals across the cosmos. I take a lesson from the U.S. Navy Seals and breath deeply to a count of four. Or, was it five? Maybe three? It’s not helping.

I said, “How many bags do you have? Do I see one from Saks Fifth Avenue?  Nordstrom’s?  What are you doing with the bags from Victoria Secrets? This is a family blog.”

“Do I ask you where you go shopping? Do I ask you what you buy?” La Flor is clutching her bags close to her body.

“Yes, to both questions. Did you consider Target? Old Navy? Gap? BTW, I don’t want your bags. Relax, por favor.”

“No. No. And, No. And, I didn’t consider the big W if you know what I mean. See, this is the difference between you and me. When you go shopping, you go to H-E-B and buy groceries – boring. When I go shopping, I go out to have fun and spend, spend, spend. Besides, everything I bought is a necessary expense for La Flor, PI.”

“Did you get gift receipts, La Flor PI?”

“Why? I’m not giving anything away.”

“I’m talking about returning everything.”

“No can do, Ray.”

“Did you go shopping by yourself?”

“Duuh!  Beautiful, tough, and edgy girls never go shopping alone. If Jack were with me, I’d let him carry my bags. You’ll also notice lunch at La Cuisine Upscale on your credit card.”

“Get over Jack Reacher. He’s beyond your reach. Pretty good, right? I never heard of it.”

“The restaurant? It’s the overrated, overpriced French restaurant with the snobby wait staff. And, never enough food to fill you up. But the wine is excellent.”

“You couldn’t go to a barbecue joint? Whataburger? In-N-Out Burger? Subway? Tony’s pizza?”

“When girls go shopping, Ray. They don’t do those kinds of places. The only time I do those restaurants is when you take me for doing a good job. I can’t wait to renegotiate my contract.”

“What contract?”

“The one my agent is going to send to you.”

“How did this happen? I created you?

“Save it for another blog post. You’re already over your head in this one.”

“I think you’re carrying the tough and edgy parts of your persona a bit too far. What is the tab on my credit card?”

“I never keep track of that kind of thing.”

“You’re making my heart race, La Flor.”

“It’s only money, don’t be so tight.”

I’m online checking out my credit card. La Flor you spent . . .”

La Flor is a good teacher. Oh, she goes overboard now and then. But she’s right, it’s only money. Money is a useful thing, and it has its place. When it rules our lives, it becomes destructive. People love me, money doesn’t love me. People lift me up when I’m feeling down, money doesn’t. People inspire me that tomorrow will be better than today, money doesn’t. Thank you, La Flor, for prying my fingers loose, a little bit.

Maybe I Was Flirting

by

“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. 

 

The Blog Is Not About You

by

“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. 

 

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