Photo Courtesy of Cache Creek Casino Resort

I fell in … Read the rest →]]> I am reposting this in honor of the first man to lay claim to my heart. Job well done, David. May you rest with Angels. PS I think I love you.

I fell in love for the first time on September 25, 1970. I was nine. And a half. His name was David Cassidy, star of the new hit-show The Partridge Family. Every Friday night for the next four years I tuned in to watch him sing his hit songs. I bought every album and played them until my sisters screamed for mercy.

I saved my allowance to buy the most recent Tiger Beat magazine, and I hung posters of him on the back of my door and kissed him goodnight. Every night. I even hung one on the ceiling above my bed so I could see him first thing every morning and last thing before I turned out the light.

My love for David has been an enduring love. Though he dropped off the radar screen after the show ended in March of 1974, he has remained firmly implanted in my heart. I’ve been in love a few times since David—Donny Osmond was next in line—but nothing can ever replace or even equal that special feeling you get from your first true love.

And then one day, a few years ago, I happened to be talking to the entertainment manager at the Indian Casino I work for. “Ben,” I said, “you should think about getting David Cassidy to perform here.” To my surprise and delight, Ben thought it was a great idea. My heart began to flip-flop at the thought.

Ben called me a few weeks later to share the good news. David Cassidy had been booked. He was coming to my home turf, and I couldn’t wait to get my hands (and hopefully lips) on him.  “I’ll need a front row ticket,” I told Ben. “And a ticket the meet-and-greet.”

I spent the entire week before the show trying on every possible outfit combination. When the big night arrived I left work early, checked into the B&B down the street with two girlfriends, and primped like I was going to the Prom. Over dinner, my friends and I thumbed through the Tiger Beat magazine I’d bought on EBay for $20 to find all the places where David had autographed (courtesy of Ben). We laughed hysterically at the back page:

Finally, the big moment arrived. I took my seat in the front row, dead center, and sucked air in through the narrow opening in my throat. When the lights dimmed and he took the stage, I was no longer a forty-something, happily-married woman. I was a young girl, and I was in love.

David began singing—not sure what song—and I pulled out my cell phone to capture the moment. I knew cameras were forbidden, but hey, I knew the security director so I was pretty sure I wouldn’t get kicked out. David stood on the stage, directly in front of me, and motioned with his finger for me to come to the stage.

My heart raced and my cheeks burned. Crap, he was going to take my phone. And then something I never expected happened. David bent down, leaned over, and kissed me! Full on the lips, he kissed me. The feel of his lips on mine—comingled with the scent of his cologne—was more than I could bear.

I can die now. My life is complete.

It was then that the women rushed the stage. I stayed put with my forearms resting on the stage, claiming my spot, daring the other women with my eyes to even try impinging on my territory. I craned my neck and stared up at him with adoring eyes, and it seemed every song was sung just for me. And then, something else unexpected happened.

David towered over us, wiping the sweat from his brow with a small blue towel, and my friend Janine asked David if she could have the towel. Incredulous, he asked her why she wanted it. “Because my friend here has been in love with you her entire life,” she said. A few minutes later, David dropped it in front of her.

After the show, I slapped my meet-and-greet pass on and stormed the line, managing to position myself second (the Casino’s CEO is always first). I have no idea what I said to him that night, but I do remember our second kiss. I remember that he was charming, and gracious, and he seemed genuinely happy to meet me. I held him close—he held me closer—and smiled for the camera. And then I waved goodbye to the boy man I will always love.

As I tucked my nine-year-old self into the twin bed back at the B&B, I stared up at the ceiling, an enormous smile fixed to my face, and I knew that nothing could ever top this night. My childhood yearning was complete. I never wanted, or needed, to see David Cassidy again. Except maybe in my dreams.

UPDATE:
I’m pleased to say that after the first time I posted this, I was contacted my David’s web mistress and am thrilled to say that my post has been added to David’s website!! You can find it here. 

Rest in peace, David. You will be missed.

Recently I was challenged with making a list of ten things a person should rush to do, the theory being that nothing else should be rushed. It wasn’t an easy task, but it was enlightening.

After completing my list, I … Read the rest →]]>

Recently I was challenged with making a list of ten things a person should rush to do, the theory being that nothing else should be rushed. It wasn’t an easy task, but it was enlightening.

After completing my list, I vowed that I would try to live by it. I would rush to do the ten things on my list (though God forbid I’m not soon tasked with saving a life or putting out a fire). I would not rush anything else.

The first item on my list was to Forgive. As it often does, the universe responded to my self-imposed challenge by providing the perfect opportunity for me to put my promise to the test. Here’s what happened.

Last week, my husband and I took our dog, Max, to see an orthopedic surgeon (he has bum knees) for a surgery consultation.  As is customary with any type of doctor visit, we went through the list of medications that Max was on.

Now, the previous weekend we’d taken our little boy to our regular vet for an infection on his…Boy Part. We told the surgeon what medications our vet had given Max for his…issue, as well as the regular medications he takes.

The next words out of the surgeon’s mouth were, ”I don’t want to alarm you, but…”

As it turns out, the medication we give Max for his bum knees was not documented in his chart at our regular vet’s office. Subsequently, she prescribed two additional medications in the same classification.

“…we call it the triangle of death,” the surgeon said, and went on to explain that, by being on these three medications for the past five days, our precious boy was now in danger of a host of complications, not the least of which were a perforated ulcer and kidney failure.

Our first reaction was fear. The second? Anger.

These are normal reactions. I know this because I’ve watched enough medical dramas on television. Except, none of those patients were my little boy.

We left with instructions on what to look for, what we should do to help Max detox from the overdose, and a promise that he would alert our regular vet to the situation.

Two days later, we received a call from our vet’s office. When I saw the caller ID, I reached for the phone, then hesitated before I picked up. In those seconds, a few thoughts went through my mind.

First, I was still processing my feelings about the situation and I wasn’t sure I was ready to speak to her yet. Second, my husband’s admonition not to “acquiesce” too easily (he knows me well :). Third, I remembered the vow I’d made to live according to my list.

And I picked up.

I listened to her explanation. I listened to her apology, and I knew it was sincere. Not because she said the words over and over. Not because she told me that she was devastated by what had happened, or that it was the first time she’d ever made a mistake like this.

I knew because I could hear it in her trembling voice. I could feel her pain, and I wanted so badly to reach through the telephone line and hug her and tell her it was okay. That I forgave her, because I did. Too easily? Perhaps. But here’s the thing I realized in the moment that forgiveness entered my heart:

To forgive is to recognize another’s humanity as your own.

I’ve made my share of mistakes in life. Done things that have hurt other people. Who hasn’t? It’s part of being human. Some I’ve hurt have forgiven me. Some not. But here’s what I know:

Forgiveness keeps us from living lonely, bitter lives.

The following day we had to take Max back to see the vet. He’d thrown up for the third time in four days. When the vet walked into the room, her eyes filled with tears. I rose to hug her. My husband—who hadn’t spoken to her and thus, until that very moment, had not fully arrived at a place of forgiveness—hugged her to. And all was forgiven.

We’re not out of the danger zone with our little boy yet, but our vet is doing everything humanly possible to ensure he gets there. And we have every confidence that our furry children will continue to receive excellent care from her.

What about you? Do you rush through your life? If you were tasked to make a list of things you should rush to do, what would be number one?

Photo courtesy of Google Images.

When you feel a pain in your head, do you automatically think it’s … Read the rest →]]> “You mean you were diagnosed with something called a brain cloud and didn’t ask for a second opinion?”
Quote from Joe versus the Volcano

When you feel a pain in your head, do you automatically think it’s a brain tumor? When you feel a tingling in your arm, do you jump to the conclusion that you’re having a heart attack? And when you feel some strange new symptom, do you consult Dr. Google and self-diagnose yourself with a rare and incurable disease?

One of my favorite movies of all time is Joe versus the Volcano, starring Tom Hanks, where hypochondriac Joe is diagnosed with an incurable disease (a Brain Cloud). After quitting his dehumanizing job, Joe agrees to sacrifice himself by jumping into a volcano on the island of Waponi Woo in exchange for the chance to “live like a king and die like a man.” Along the way, Joe meets some interesting people and learns how to truly live.

Aside from the fact that this movie is hilarious, I loved it because I can relate to Joe. I, too, am a hypochondriac. Most recently, I diagnosed a muscle strain in my lower right abdomen as a ruptured appendix. Before that, I was convinced my extreme fatigue was Lupus (or some other autoimmune disease).

But I’ve learned that I am not alone. I have a friend whose father-in-law was a Neurologist. Every time he would talk about one of his cases, my friend would become convinced that she too had an incurable brain tumor.

And last year my spiritual advisor became convinced that there was something seriously wrong with his big toe. He showed the toe to his administrative assistant who agreed there was something dreadfully wrong with it. Cancer, they both agreed. Definitely cancer. Later that week he was diagnosed with a hang nail.

What about you? Have you ever self-diagnosed yourself with an incurable disease?

Photo Courtesy of Google Images

In 2010, CNN reported that the British hotel chain Travelodge did a study and determined that 25% of men take teddy bears on the road with them when they travel for business. Wow, I thought, and … Read the rest →]]>  

In 2010, CNN reported that the British hotel chain Travelodge did a study and determined that 25% of men take teddy bears on the road with them when they travel for business. Wow, I thought, and how many more actually sleep with them every night but are just too embarrassed to travel with one?

When I read the survey, I shared this information with my husband, who promptly asked how that information was obtained. “Did they have the housekeepers search the rooms of their guests??”

“I don’t know, the article didn’t say,” I said. “Why do you ask?”

“I was just wondering if men actually display them on their beds, or if they hide them in their suitcases and only take them out at night?”

I grinned.  This survey information really seemed to upset him. “I don’t know,” I said. “But you might want to take that lock for your suitcase next time.  Just in case, I mean.”

He nodded thoughtfully. And that was the end of the conversation. At least until recently. Earlier this year I informed him that I was going to start my own website, complete with a blog. And like a typical man, he asked “why?” I looked at him with that look that we wives give our husbands when they say stupid stuff like that to us, and calmly explained my ideas and my vision.

And then I thought about how I could use my website to embarrass him and make him pay for asking the “why” question. And then it hit me. I would write an article about the men who travel with their teddy bears, and tell the world that he is one of them! So there it is folks. And its name is BB, which used to stand for Blue Boy, but since my sister re-stuffed him a couple of years back, he has been renamed Buff Body.

I knew there would be repercussions for exposing this information about him because he is an Officer in the Military (God bless our soldiers), and he would never want any of the “guys” to know he sleeps with a snuggly, but I decided it would be worth the risk. Besides, as long as none of his shipmates, as he sometimes calls them, read this blog, his secret will be safe.

And then, being the kind, loving and supportive guy that my husband is, he smiled and said “That’s great honey, but first of all, you know that is a heinous lie, and second, if you dare tell such a grievous lie in your blog, you might just find Timmy missing one of these days.”

*Gasps*

“You wouldn’t!  Not Timmy!” I admit to having more than a few stuffed animals, and Timmy is the most special one.  My mother made him and since she passed away 12 years ago, every time I miss her, I just give him a squeeze and can I feel her love.

Timmy is so well loved that he looks like I’ve had him since I was 8 instead of 28.  But I’m not embarrassed to tell you this because I am, after all, a chick.  And it’s cool for chicks to have stuffed animals. Guys? Not so much.

But I decided I just couldn’t take a chance on anything happening to Timmy, so here it is folks, I made the whole story up (except the part about the actually survey, that part is true).  It was all a cruel lie (but fun, don’t you think?). BB does in fact belong to our daughter. But don’t worry folks, Timmy has been removed to a secure location, just in case.

What do you think about men who sleep with teddy bears? I want to know!

I had a dream recently that I was back in college. Only it wasn’t the college I went to and I was, well, someone I didn’t recognize. You know how dreams are.

In the dream I was unhappy, insecure. I … Read the rest →]]>

I had a dream recently that I was back in college. Only it wasn’t the college I went to and I was, well, someone I didn’t recognize. You know how dreams are.

In the dream I was unhappy, insecure. I was overweight and was not very pretty. I became friends with my roommate, which made me very happy. She introduced me to a guy (a man, really…he was 42) and we started dating. We double dated a lot with my roommate, and one weekend the four of us went out of town together.

I remember sitting in the car while the three of them went into a store. It was raining hard. The guy I was dating came out to the car and I noticed that he seemed upset. When I asked him what was wrong, he said there was something he wanted to buy but didn’t have enough money.

I reached into my wallet and gave him everything I had. I think it was about $40. He went back into the store and several minutes later he, my roommate and her boyfriend came out of the store, hopped into a taxi and drove off, leaving me by myself. They did not return.

I woke up. But that’s not where the story ended.

I remember consciously thinking uh-uh. No way. That’s not how her (my?) story ends. I am going to go back to sleep and give her (me) a happy ending. And so I did.

In the dream that followed I was pissed. Royally pissed. At the guy, my roommate. Life. But mostly, myself. I used my rage as fuel to change my life. I wrote a book, which became a best seller. And I was elected class valedictorian for my graduating class.

As I gave my commencement speech, which was about overcoming obstacles and becoming the people we were meant to be, I remember looking out at the audience and seeing not only my roommate, but the guy who left me in the rain.

I was proud of who I’d become. And grateful for the challenges I’d had to overcome to get to where I was.

And then I woke up. For real this time. And I knew. This was not a dream. This was my story.

I had become the hero in my own journey. In the dream, yes. But also in real life.

My husband once told me that I am the most introspective person he’s ever known. It was the best compliment he could’ve given me (though I’m not certain he meant it as one!). It’s true. I am. I’ve spent my entire adult life working on becoming a better person. Becoming whole. Becoming who I was meant to be.

The only problem was, I had no idea who that person was. And so it took me a while to get there (here).

I had to overcome a lonely childhood, which is strange when you think that I grew up with seven sisters, but it was. I had low self-esteem, gained and lost the same twenty pounds more times than I can count, and had one failed relationship after another (until my mother worked her magic from heaven and sent me my wonderful husband of fifteen years). I went to college and became a CPA (don’t be jealous!), but still never felt smart enough.

Intuitively, I knew that life was not supposed to be like this. That I was not supposed to look at myself and life in general as an obstacle to be overcome or worse, endured. Or to live for that moment in the future, when (fill in the blank) happened, and I could finally be happy. I knew that life was now. This moment. Regardless of my personal circumstances.

I just didn’t know how to get there.

And so I began to read. I read The Road Less Traveled by M. Scott Peck. I read Thomas Moore, Joseph Campbell, Marianne Williamson, Deepak Chopra, Ram Dass, Jon Kabat-Zin, Andrew Weil. And later, Eckhart Tolle, Wayne Dyer, Brian Weiss, Elizabeth Lesser, Thich Nhat Hahn and many others. I read everything I could get my hands on.

And things got better. I got better. I started to like myself. I took back my power and I stopped caring what others thought about me (part of that was turning 40, then turning 50, at which point you really do stop giving a sh%& about what others think).

But something was still missing. I was happy. I really was. I just wasn’t…fulfilled.

And then, when a serious injury sidelined my (very amateur) endurance athletic career, my body and my mind began to quiet down.

And that’s when life started unfolding. On its own terms, not mine.

I wrote my first novel in 2010. That’s when I discovered my life’s purpose. And my life became filled with a zest for life that I never knew existed. But it wasn’t until a medical crisis struck in March of this year (on my 55^th birthday) that I experienced a profound and permanent shift in how I view not only myself and my life but the world around me. Here are a few of the things I’ve come to realize:

1. Everything in life is energy. You are. The chair you’re sitting on is. In fact, the entire universe is energy. And that energy can heal you. Whatever your problem is, if you tune into the positive energy of the universe, you will be healed. I know because, after suffering for more than forty years with a heart condition that eventually incapacitated me, I was cured. All I had to do was open my heart and let that energy in (which first required me to stop folding my arms so tightly across my chest all the time—keeping the healing energy out and the negative energy in).

2. I learned to think and speak in positive affirmations. When the negative thoughts come (and they do), I stop myself in mid-thought and think or say something positive about the person or situation that was bothering me.For example, I recently finished writing book 2 in my series, The Other Side of the World, and all I could think was, “it’s not as good as book 1…what if readers hate it? Oh God, it’s cr—“ I stopped the thought mid-stream and said (out loud), “I Am an amazing and talented author and people love my books.”

3. You get what you think about, whether you want it or not. I spent forty years living in fear that my heart problems would come back, and the universe never let me down. Instead of saying, “My heart is strong and healthy. All is well,” I said, “Please God, don’t let me have any more heart problems.” It’s something to ponder the next time you’re struck with a negative thought.

We all have our own, unique journey, and none of us is (or ever will be) perfect. Some of us are stuck at dead-ends (been there!), some of us have taken more forks in the road than others (*raises right hand*), but eventually, when we’ve suffered enough, we can find the way out. The path to freedom, a way to claim our joy.

What about you? Have you become the hero in your journey? What paths have you taken to get there? If you’re not quite there yet, what positive steps have you taken toward that path?

I recently listened to an interview with Hay House author John Parkin, the subject of which was called How to Say Fuck It and Do What You Love. I know, I thought it was an awesome title, too.

In the interview, … Read the rest →]]>  

I recently listened to an interview with Hay House author John Parkin, the subject of which was called How to Say Fuck It and Do What You Love. I know, I thought it was an awesome title, too.

In the interview, John talked about his grandparents in England who worked in a Downton Abbey like place. A manor house. His grandfather was the head gardener and his grandmother was the Mrs. Patmore of the kitchen (head cook for the two of you out there who did not watch Downton Abbey).

When John’s father was 16 or 17, he was told, “you can work for the gas company, be a teacher and teach children about helping verbs, or as an accountant.” He chose accounting.

This got me to thinking. About how we have evolved as a people. And how our views about what we can (and should!) expect from life have changed (for the better).

In my father’s (and John’s) generation (also known as the Greatest Generation), a job was for life. And, due to the saturation of the job market when our father’s returned from the war, any old job generally sufficed. Employees (predominantly men) worked hard, collected their pay checks and plodded on with their lives. Loyalty to the company was rewarded with a gold watch and a pension upon retirement. And women took care of the children.

Same is true for most Baby Boomers, but things began to change for late Boomers (like myself) and Gen X-ers. We had (at least some) say about our futures. We chose careers not jobs. Gone was the idea of company loyalty. Now, we hop from one job to another in order to move up the corporate (and financial) ladder. We have 401k plans, but no formal pension plan. And, generally, no gold watch is proffered upon retirement.

Our children are raised by both (or maybe, with the increase in divorce rate and rise of the step-family, I should say all) parents, and most families are dual-income households. We are wealthier, to be sure, but our hopes and dreams (and funds) are now spent on our children. To give them a better life (more on this later) than we had growing up. Not to mention the stuff we never had growing up.

As a result, our children have opportunities that no generation has ever had before.

So let’s talk about this better life I mentioned above.

About a decade ago (maybe longer) I read an article called The Wussification of America. In the article, the author talked about how, at birth, we basically wrap our kids up in bubble wrap and send them into a world where they will never have to feel discomfort or disappointment. It said a lot more than that, but the bottom line was this: we have created a generation of children who are ill prepared for the real world.

At the time, I tended to agree with what the author was saying. I read the memo from my step-daughter’s school telling us that students could no longer distribute birthday party invitations at school because it might hurt someone’s feelings. I watched her receive a trophy for being on a soccer team that finished in, well, something other than first place.

But now, as she prepares to graduate from high school, I have a different perspective.

From a young age, Millennial kids (some call it The Entitlement Generation) have been told that they can be or do anything they want. And as my daughter contemplates her college career, this message has been reinforced.

Though her heart lies in the field of Interior Design, we have no expectation that she will actually graduate with a degree in this field. We have encouraged her to try different things on, see what fits. Find what she loves to do—what she can picture herself doing (and loving) for the rest of her life—and then find a way to make a living at it.

Many people believe that the world has gone to hell in a hand basket. Crime is at an all-time high (especially in my former home town of Chicago), terrorism is rampant, bioterrorism is an ever-present threat. Global warming has become a reality, homelessness and obesity have become epidemics, and depression and anxiety are the new normal.

But there is hope.

Imagine what the world will look like when our young people—kids who have been encouraged to find and follow their bliss, told that they can be or do anything they want—are running this country? Yeah, maybe they do have a warped sense of entitlement, but who are we to tell them that they shouldn’t reach for the stars?

Girls (maybe guys, too) will wear yoga pants and sweatshirts to work with their Uggs or Birkenstocks (depending on the season). Their hair will be piled on top of their heads in a messy bun, and no makeup will adorn their faces. Work places will have juice bars, coffee bars, a yoga studio and a masseuse. Employees will, of course, bring their dogs to work and that’s only IF they decide to actually go to the office because telecommuting will be as commonplace as, well, Starbucks.

In short, they will be happy.

We only get one shot at (this) life. We should all learn to say Fuck It and do what we love! But be sure to have an exit plan in place before you leap.

What about you? If you had it to do all over again, what career would you choose?

all photos via Google Images

I run the in the morning. In the dark. With headphones on. Admittedly, not the smartest thing in the world to do. It’s why, for years, my husband bugged me to take a self-defense class. Or twelve. … Read the rest →]]>

I run the in the morning. In the dark. With headphones on. Admittedly, not the smartest thing in the world to do. It’s why, for years, my husband bugged me to take a self-defense class. Or twelve. I refused on the grounds that I was too afraid of getting hurt.

But he was relentless, and alas I gave in. I would go, I said, as long as I could wear one of these:

He dropped the subject.

Until a few weeks ago. After hearing reports of a man flashing a woman while she was running in my neighborhood, my husband gave me a couple of early Christmas presents.

I was excited to try out my new badass toys, but also a little afraid. Of harming myself. And so, the new toys sat on my bedside table for a couple of weeks. And then, last week I decided to explore. I opened the pepper spray first. It seemed less…violent…than the other gadget, and there seemed to be less chance that I would accidentally end up spraying myself.

I was wrong.

I should clarify that I didn’t actually spray myself. I should also mention that I was in the bathroom when I test fired it. And I should also warn you that pepper spray, like air freshener, does tend to permeate the air. Especially in a small, enclosed space.

Enough said. But I will also say this: the shit works.

And so, being the kind person I am, I decided to share my experience—simply as a public service announcement mind you—to my friends on Facebook. It was there I shared that I am also the proud owner of a stun gun.

One kind friend, after reading about my pepper spray debacle, felt it necessary to suggest that I might not want to test out the stun gun while in the bathroom. More specifically, while standing in a pool of water.

My friend made a good point. And so, not being one to read directions (hence the pepper spray debacle), I decided now would be a good time to start. And surprisingly, the instructions told me that it is safe to use my stun gun while standing in a pool of water. I, however, decided it would be prudent not to test this theory.

In fact, because of the pepper spray debacle, I made my husband test fire the stun gun. Let me just say that the stun gun is back in its case, buried in the bottom of a drawer where it will stay until the pepper spray runs out.

Now, you might be asking yourself, “where the heck does Suzanne live that she needs pepper spray AND a stun gun?” The unfortunate truth is that it doesn’t matter where you live. Any woman spending time outside alone after dark (even in the daytime), should protect herself.

Be aware of your surroundings at all times. If you’re stubborn (like me) and insist on wearing headphones, keep your music low enough that you can hear someone approaching. Carry a cell phone, and for extra measure, buy some pepper spray.

But always remember to keep these items safely stored, away from children.

What about you? Do you brave the dark solo? If so, what do you do to protect yourself?

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