Category: Knoxville Tennesse

16Apr

I’m waiting

I grew up in a household that there were very few arguments and very little conflict. At least, not to my recollection; and maybe perhaps disagreements between my parents were kept behind closed doors. Even in my teenage years, I don’t recall many “knock down, drag out” fights between my parents and myself. We didn’t always agree, but it rarely got ugly.

I was always extremely close to my dad, but my mom, well, my mom always played her life pretty close to the vest. She was distant. I don’t recall many heart to heart talks. I observed friends that had a close relationship with their mom and I was always a bit envious, but sad as well.

One day when I was in my early teens, my Mom and I got into a disagreement. I can’t recall what it was about, but I recall that I felt like I was completely and utterly in the right. I stormed out of the house, slammed the front door, and sat down on the front steps of our house.

As I have said before, I forever sought after my mother’s love and approval; always laying in wait for that magic moment when I felt more than just a bother or an inconvenience to her.

I was fuming; so mad I could barely see straight.

I was right.

She was wrong.

As I sat there, all I could think about was how right I was, and how wrong she was. Righteousness was running through my veins. How dare she not see my point.

I sat there for what seemed like a really long time.

The longer that I sat there, the more I began to realize something. I wanted my mother to come after me. Come find me. I wanted to be important enough that she sought me out to make this right. But she never did.

Who knows what was going on in her head. Dinner needed to be made. Clothes needed to be folded. The floors were dirty. Who knows. But I’m pretty sure it wasn’t about our disagreement.

After what felt like hours (I’m sure it wasn’t), with my proverbial tail tucked in between my legs, I went back into the house, carrying on with whatever. But my feelings had been hurt. One more notch in the belt of disappointment with my mom.

There’s really no point, or moral to this story. Just that I hope as a parent,  I hope that I was more in touch with my kids.

And if you are currently a parent of a precious young human being, on occasion, meet them where they go. It could mean everything to them. 

Love,

Cat

‘

13Feb

Keep your roses

If you brought me diamonds,
If you brought me pearls,
If you brought me roses
Like some other gents
Might bring to other girls,
It couldn’t please me more
Than the gift I see;
A pineapple for me.”

Cabaret – It Couldn’t Please Me More Lyrics | MetroLyrics

Charlie and I have been together two years now and I have never, not ever, received flowers from him.

I’ve never answered the front door and had a delivery man present me with a big bouquet of roses.

Not once have I been at work and been paged to the front desk to be surprised with a flower arrangement for all to see.

Ever.

But don’t be mad at Charlie, because I certainly am not.

He’s not geared that way. It’s not in his DNA. Sending flowers doesn’t speak to his sensibilities.

I’ll admit it.

I love flowers. I love the romance of the rose, the friendliness of the daisy, and the delicacy of a tulip.  I love the beauty, the fragrance, and  the thought behind sending flowers.

But, let me tell you what I love from Charlie far more than the temporary flutter I get from receiving flowers….

♥ I love that he warms up my car on a cold morning before I leave for work.

♥  I love when I open up my lunch box and he’s put a cute note in it, or some kind of trinket from the house that reminds me of us.

♥  I love when he says (on a daily basis), “I love you dearly Cat.”

♥  I love when he takes my car keys and returns my car freshly washed, or changed out the  windshield wipers…. or on the rare occasion, he puts gas in my car (it’s electric, remember?)

♥   I love that Charlie brings me my first cup of coffee in the morning while I’m getting ready for work.

♥  I love that he insists on opening the car door for me.

♥  And as silly as it sounds, I love when Charlie introduces me as, “My beautiful bride”, or “My lovely wife”.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One morning months and months ago, maybe it’s even been a year ago,   I found this note taped to our bathroom mirror.

Oh, how it tickled me – not just the words… but, I imagined Charlie hurriedly scribbling the note early that morning, rummaging for the tape, and placing it on the bathroom mirror before I got up to discover it.

So…. I saved the note and tucked it into Charlie’s lunch box a few days later. And then a few days after that, I found the same note tucked into my lunch box. You see where this is going, right? This same note has gone back and forth between us for months now. It’s been found in the breadbox, the refrigerator, cabinets, sock drawers, our vehicles… pretty much every where. 🙂

This simple, thoughtful note that began with a sweet gesture by Charlie has given us countless boosts to our days. Although the paper is getting a bit crumpled,and the tape has been replaced several times, the sentiment is still the same (♥). Those four simple words with the exclamation mark at the end, speaks volumes.  “I’m here, I love you, and you’re always on my mind.”

So I guess what I’m trying to say is – it’s the everyday courtesies, the things that Charlie does for me every day is what I most appreciate. Little things like…I don’t know… the toilet paper replaced on the roll (over the top, of course), fresh Q-tips in the container, the toilet seat down (99% of the time), the scent of a freshly cleaned shower… I could go on and on.

So, the florist can keep their roses, I’ll take that car wash any day!

Thank you Charlie for just being you.  🙂

Cat

 

13Nov

Those three words

 

It happened one day last week.

I left work that afternoon at my usual time and I was tired, really tired. And to beat all, I hadn’t felt well all day – you know that feeling that you get right before you get officially sick? Runny nose, cough, aching.. all the symptoms of a cold coming on.

Charlie, along with a good friend of his,  had left town just an hour earlier heading to Atlanta.  In his absence, I was looking forward to going home, settling into my pjs, and curling up into bed with my dogs along with a hot cup of tea.

Except I hit a bump in the road – literally. Well, a convenient store parking lot curb to be specific. 

I was thirsty. Maybe from the excessive coughing; maybe from the cold medicine I had taken  earlier. So I benignly decided to stop at the convenient store for a soda before going home.

And boom!

What was that?

Damn.

The curb. I hit the curb.

Instantly the low tire indicator came on and it was just a matter of finding out exactly which tire I had blown.

With my heart and mind racing, I got out of my car to discover the right front tire was flatter than the batch of homemade biscuits I attempted to make last year.

I drive a Chevrolet Volt (it’s electric). Spare tires are not included…. something about space availability… carrying extra weight…bla bla bla.  So, here I am in a parking lot, miles from home, with a flat tire.

Am I in danger?

No.

Am I hurt?

No.

But I am in need of a tow truck. And maybe a hug.

So I called Charlie in hopes of a hearing a friendly voice and getting a tow truck connection. As embarrassed as I was to tell the story, “Honey I jumped a curb, I have a flat tire”, I made the call anyway.

And what did he say?

Those three words that sometimes we all need to hear.

“I’ll be there”.

“No honey”, I said (maybe not too convincingly), “I’m grown, I can take care of it. Keep heading south, just call me a tow truck please.”

Charlie immediately got on the phone with the insurance company and got the process started on getting a tow truck to my location.

As I sat there in my car waiting on the tow truck (not much else to do), I thought about all the times I was forced to handle these situations on my own for so long. Did I manage? Yes, yes I did. And I gained confidence each and every time I made it through another challenge.

But I gotta tell you, it felt good having Charlie to call, having someone to say, “I’ll be there”. No questions asked…. well, maybe, “How did you not see that curb?”…  🙂

In the end, Charlie and Stephan made it there before the tow truck did – and I was so glad to see those friendly faces!

May I always remember how sweet those three words are, and to be that friendly voice on the other end of the phone when needed.

Peace (and keep it on the road),

Cat

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

30Oct

It’s just a jacket, right?

It’s old. It’s faded. Some of the edges are frayed. There’s a tear in the cuff that can’t be repaired. It’s definitely seen better days.

This jacket has been with me for the better part of 25 years.

There’s been a few times I’ve had it in my “toss” pile, only to  change my mind and pull it back out.  So, I ask myself, what is it about this jacket that I keep running back to like an old friend? What is it about this unpretentious article of clothing that I can’t seem to let go of?

Simple.

It’s history.

It’s the history that is held inside the body of this jacket.

In the years since I have owned this piece of clothing (or, does it own me), this jacket has kept my body warm and my soul comforted. It’s the comfort of chicken soup and the warmth of hot chocolate.  This friend of mine has kept me warm at  UT football games, hayrides, and  pumpkin carvings. Its sleeves have wiped noses, its hood has kept the rain off. It has served as an impromptu pillow and a blanket for little ones. It has accompanied me on walks, endless farmer’s markets,and soccer games.  It has been with me on some of my best days, and some of my worst days. On some of my darkest days, it has caught tears that couldn’t be held back.

Just look at this picture. That jacket is keeping my daughter warm on a chilly Saturday morning in 1994. That’s Shane on her lap (he’s 30 now). 
jacket

Fast forward to October 2012 (18 years later), that’s Shane wearing that very same jacket. He and Brandon supported me by participating in the Out of the Darkness community walk for Suicide Prevention. 
shanejacket

 I asked my daughter Robin to put on the jacket so I would have a picture of her wearing it too. 🙂

robinjacket

And just 2 years ago, I brazenly got it back out of the toss pile  and wore it while running errands on yet another chilly East Tennessee Saturday morning.

catjacket

And then, just this spring, here “we” are with Charlie on a video shoot in Birmingham, AL.  This old jacket and her ample pockets came in handy storing camera batteries, filters, lens caps, and a handful of C47’s (also known as clothespins).

So, if I could turn back the hands of time would I make her new again?

No, not really. Because, like its owner, this beloved jacket of mine has worked hard for those worn edges, she has earned the frays and the imperfections that make her what  she is today.

And what happens to this little sweetheart when I’m no longer around to need her? Well, Ms. Ames, she’s yours – as you wish.