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?

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!

Today, in honor of National Teddy Bear Day, I … Read the rest →]]> “Wake in the deepest dark of night and hear the driving rain. Reach out a hand and take a paw and go to sleep again.”
–Charlotte Gray

Today, in honor of National Teddy Bear Day, I thought I’d share the story of a very special someone in my life.

Meet Timmy.

To love me is to love my teddy bear. My husband learned this early on in our relationship. When we first met, my beloved bear, Timmy, occupied not only the center of my bed but of my heart as well.

You see, my mother, who brought Timmy to life in 1988, had passed away two months before I met my husband. During those two months, Timmy helped me through many sleepless nights.

In my grief I clung to him and cried rivers of tears into him. Knowing my mother’s beautiful hands had made him, I nearly squeezed the stuffing out of him, hugging him as if I were somehow hugging her.

The defining moment in my budding relationship with my husband came the first time he spent the night at my place. As we crawled into bed, each from our own side, his eyes traveled to the bear. And then to me.

I should point out here that on our first date, I cried when we talked about my mother. On our second date, while standing in the middle of Starbucks, I cried again. While other people looked at us…looked at him, wondering what he’d done to make me cry, he simply put his arms around me and held me.

And so, when I slid to the middle of the bed and placed Timmy behind me, not a word was spoken.

The following morning, I introduced the two of them. A few weeks later, I was awakened by a soft tap on my shoulder. I opened my eyes to find Timmy staring back at me. “Wake up, Mommy,” a small voice said.

In that moment, I knew I’d found a keeper.

In fact, over the next few months, the two men in my life became great friends. One morning, my (not-yet but getting ever closer) husband remarked that he wished he had someone as special as Timmy, handmade by his own mother.

And so, a few months later, after privately emailing his mother, Junior was born. Though not technically a teddy bear, Junior is much beloved member of the Vince family.

Since that time, many stuffed animals have come into our lives. They fill our hearts and our home and can be seen in nearly every room of the house. And we’ve loved each and every one of them.

But none is more special to me than Timmy. He is The Special One.

Related Posts:

Men Who Sleep With Teddy Bears
Ode To The Teddy Bear

Important Dates to Remember:

National Take Your Teddy to Work Day:  October 14, 2015

“You promised that you’d never leave. Where are you now?”
–unknown

Teddy Bear Picnic Day:  July 10, 2016

“Teddy bears like to go on morning picnics in the summertime, so they can enjoy the sunshine before it’s it too hot for their furry selves.”
-Abigail Darling

Have you signed up to get your FREE copy of my upcoming novella, The Other Side of the World? It’s not too late. CLICK HERE to reserve your copy (expected release date, September 30).

Last weekend I went to CVS to pick up a prescription. As I wove my way back to the pharmacy, I walked through AN ENTIRE AISLE of PEEPS.

Back in the good old days (1960’s and 1970’s) shopping was much … Read the rest →]]>

Last weekend I went to CVS to pick up a prescription. As I wove my way back to the pharmacy, I walked through AN ENTIRE AISLE of PEEPS.

Back in the good old days (1960’s and 1970’s) shopping was much simpler than it is today. There was one kind of bread (Wonder white), one kind of spaghetti (the long kind), one kind of eggs (the kind the egg man delivered). There was one brand of tampons (Tampax) and two kinds of sanitary napkins (maxi and mini).

And there was one kind of PEEPS: yellow chicks.

Back then, shopping for a week took little more than twenty minutes. Today said shopping takes a good hour because, with nearly every item we buy, we suffer from analysis paralysis. Try to send your husband to the grocery store instead? Plan on at least one phone call per item on the list. You may as well do it yourself.

When did this happen? And when is enough, enough?

Take PEEPS for example.

They’re not just for Easter anymore. Now you can buy them for Valentines Day, Easter, “Summer,” Halloween and Christmas.

You can get them in original, chocolate covered, chocolate-dipped and “special” flavors.

They come in a rainbow of colors

And you can get them shaped like a chick, bunny, pumpkin, ghost, cat, bear, heart or a gingerbread man.

You can get them traditional or sugar-free.

You can even prepare them (at least) 49 different ways.

You can even test your PEEPS IQ (Click HERE).

You get the picture. The question is, when is enough, enough? When does too much of a good thing become a bad thing? Does anyone besides me miss the good old days?

You know, the kind of cry that makes you look like this:

For weeks now, I’ve been completely consumed by a major system implementation at work. Long, exhausting days have led to unproductive nights of writing (more precisely, starting at a blank screen) and going to bed even more frustrated than … Read the rest →]]>

For weeks now, I’ve been completely consumed by a major system implementation at work. Long, exhausting days have led to unproductive nights of writing (more precisely, starting at a blank screen) and going to bed even more frustrated than I was when I left the office.

I haven’t written a single new word on my WIP in months. I haven’t even written a new post for my blog. I have, however, been able to work on edits and getting my second book ready for publication. But still, I haven’t felt the joy that writing new material brings in far too long.

And so the other night, determined to change the tides, I sat down to write a blog post about a movie I’d seen over the weekend (The Judge) and how it made me think about my relationship with my own father. On the drive home, my thoughts flowed like lava. But when I booted up the laptop and sat down with a blank screen? Nada. Not a darn word in two hours.

Frustrated, I crawled into bed and contemplated the situation. I thought about the two types of posts I usually write for my blog. The first is life matters. The deep thoughts that make me contemplate life. I love thinking about and interpreting life in ways that make me grow as a person.

The other kind of post I typically write involves some kind of humor (could be sarcastic wit or something that I find gut-wrenchingly funny). That’s when I realized that it had been far too long since I’d laughed. I’m talking about the kind of laughter that brings tears to your eyes. That kind.

The problem was, I wasn’t feeling particularly funny. And then an idea struck like a thundercloud. Mad Libs. Remember those (and unless you’ve lived in a cave for the last forty years, you should)? The otherwise benign stories with little blanks that you fill in with random words (verbs, adjectives, nouns, etc) that make the story really funny?

And so, I queried my Facebook friends for an assortment of words and came up with this. I hope you enjoy.

The Criteria (words to be inserted below)

1. A woman’s name                                                   15. Body part
2. Time of day                                                          16. Adverb
3. Feeling/emotion                                                     17. Feeling/emotion
4. Body part                                                              18. Feeling/emotion
5. Adjective                                                                19. A comfort food
6. Body part                                                               20. Profession
7. Fruit (plural)                                                           21. –ing verb
8. Body part                                                               22. Exclamation!
9. Number (20 or higher)                                            23. Furniture
10. Adverb                                                                   24. Number
11. Room                                                                    25. Body part
12. Noun                                                                     26. Something cold
13. Number                                                                 27. Body part
14. Number                                                                 28. A man’s name

The Subject: Menopause (because it’s funny, right?)

Marlena awoke one evening feeling rather jealous, and not only that, her uvula was gangly and touching her foot. She fanned her pomegranate, wiped sweat from her neck and realized there was only one explanation. She was only twenty-one years old and she was facing menopause. To be sure, she slowly made her way to the attic and jumped on the puppy. Ah ha! Just as she suspected. She was fourteen pounds heavier than the night before and there were seven new wrinkles on her ankle.

Her emotions began to swing adventurously from angst to happy. She needed a meatloaf ASAP! And where was the phone? She had to call the Writer to do something about her kissing. No answer! “Oh my gravy,” she screamed before falling on the umbrella stand in a fit of tears.

Nine minutes later she didn’t remember a thing till her belly button began to cramp and a milkshake-like chill made her buttocks quiver. Someone was going to pay for this, and it might as well be Brad.

Be honest, did it make you laugh? Did you ever use Mad Libs at parties when you were young?

Tune in next week when I take a scene from my current work in progress and Mad Lib it! In the meantime, drop a comment below and provide a few words for next week. I need body parts (be creative but keep it at least R rated), a physical description (of a person), adverbs, a direction, verbs (ending in ‘ed’).