And a good time was had by all....

Daughter and I went to Salt Lake City for her Spring Break. Five days in a nice hotel, with nothing to do but the fun things we planned ourselves. Or rather, that she planned. I let her take the lead on these trips, since this is our third annual trip to what she calls "Mormon Disneyland."

We took our time getting on the road that first day. A stop at Walmart for snacks and drinks. Breakfast with Ranger. Put all of our potential destinations in the GPS's "favorites" menu. Point the car west, and off we go!

Note: I say "Off we go!" a lot. My daughter thinks it sounds like Spanish, so now she says, "Afuego!" (which really is a Spanish word) whenever we go some place. Silly girl.

As we entered tiny little Wellington, Utah, she noticed that the itsy tiny town actually has two Mormon church buildings, or "meetinghouses." See, you get a new church building when you have enough people to fill it. It says something about the LDS population there that a little town has as many meetinghouses as Lubbock, Texas - population 200,000-ish.

So, Daughter made up a new game for traveling in Utah. Instead of Slug Bug, we now have Slug-a-Meetinghouse. We spent the rest of the drive irreverently looking for the distinctive LDS steeples, so we could (softly) punch each other in the arm.

I recently got a Palm Pre. Daughter found a free app for keeping score in Slug Bug games, but we now use it for meetinghouses. How fun is that?

Finally, we arrived in Salt Lake City, at our favorite hotel. It's located on the same street as Temple Square and the Gateway Mall area, equal distance from each. How much more convenient can you get, when those two locations are Daughter's biggest priorities? It is also a block from the theater where we were going to see comedian Brian Regan perform. If you haven't seen him, you must go straight to YouTube and have a look! Good, clean humor, suitable for my daughter. And she just loves him.

Dinner was at the hotel, where they serve a kind of rustic-nouveau cuisine. Daughter had a Caesar salad that didn't quite turn out as she imagined. Long leaves of lettuce, wrapped in fried-to-a-crisp cheese thing, with a mountain of tomatoes, and a drizzle of dressing. We had a tiny table that ended up filled like a puzzle with square and rectangular dishes. Even the manager commented on our "very full table top."

The room was heaven. A lovely view of the city at night. Sleep Number beds, which were a riot to play with. Each morning, we had a good laugh at the Mommy- and Daughter-shaped crevasses we left in our beds.

Daughter had planned many sights to see. Temple Square, shopping at the Gateway Mall (namely, Build-a-Bear Workshop), Hogle Zoo, the Children's Museum, the planetarium, Heritage Park, Pioneer History Museum, and dinner at the Mayan Adventure, with all the hot divers jumping into the water before you, as you have dinner. Yeah, she's not old enough to date, but is gaining an appreciation for quality man-flesh. The Twilight series and their ripped actors have done this for her.

However, a pattern emerged as the trip actually got underway. Not much of this agenda proved to be a big priority. Each day, she's wake up about 10:00-11:00 and start talking. She'd get ready and talk until 1:00 or later. It was like she had stored up all these things to say and discuss when we were alone, without being surrounded by a houseful of prying eyes and ears. It was painfully obvious to me that she felt we had no private place or uninterupted time at home, where she could speak freely, and I could respond freely.

She talked about school, church, friends, family, home, and all of the ups and downs of her daily life. She just talked and talked. Sitting in the hotel room, facing each other on our respective cushy beds, I couldn't think of anything better I'd rather do. I didn't care one bit about what we were missing or what we could be doing out in the city. My teenage daughter wanted to talk to me, and no one else.

How huge of a treasure is that? And I'll always cherish that memory, of just sitting peacefully and listening to her, my lovely daughter. I couldn't be more proud of her.

When we finally left the hotel, we'd look for food first. She had a list of restaurants we simply had to go to, and what she wanted there. We found a new one, though. And it's now on her "have to" list.

It's a wonderful sushi restaurant we found around the corner. She became sushi-obsessed! We ate there twice. Some of it had to do with this delightful thing they had called Ramune soda. It has a marble in it. When you get it, you press on the top and it shoots this glass marble into the bottle, where it's helpd in a chamber that keeps you from swallowing it. It's a light, refreshing soda, too. Are we suckers for marketing or what?

Then, we headed to the Children's museum, which was really meant for small children to pass many hours in hands-on learning play. A friend recommended it to Daughter. She enjoyed it, anyhow, and made her first stop-motion animated film there! It's about three seconds long and ends with a blood-curdling scream. Gotta love it.

Of course, she had to make a stop at Build-a-Bear, and...uh...build a bear. These stuffed animals have become her souvenier of choice when we travel. We sat on a patio and had Ben and Jerry's ice cream, and watched the water feature they have in the Gateway plaza, with Olympic music playing. The water feature is built on the logo from the 2002 Olympics in Salt Lake. Kinda fun.

The Mayan Adventure was as fun as ever. Entering this place feels like you're going into a ride at Disneyland. Daughter got a spectacular dessert that actually has fireworks on top. It spews brilliantly for about a minute. It's the only thing that distracted her from the divers.... She took a lot of pictures.

Besides shopping and eating, our sightseeing ended up being Temple Square. That's all, but we spent hours there. Daughter took 79 pictures in that area alone.

Something is very spiritually-nourishing to her, just being there. We like to lay our hands on the temple itself and talk about our ancestors, who helped build it so long ago. And the trouble they went through to be there, and work on it.

Watching her take her pictures, she seemed so small beside this grand structure. I took the one to the right, standing at the base. It's an awesome perspective to me. Oh, I could go on....

Saturday was our big day. She was so excited to go see Brian Regan at Abravanel Hall. So, we woke up slowly that morning. I noticed that it was getting late in the morning, but the usual bright sunshine wasn't peeking through the curtains. So, I opened them. And saw this....


No, not fog. That's snow. You should be able to see tall buildings in this shot. But no....there's snow.

We wandered down the street for lunch, at a cafe by Temple Square. It looked link this:


Again, you should see buildings behind the temple. But it's snow. We just couldn't believe it! We'd had such bright sunshine before that day! And we were to head into the mountains, going home the next day. It was a little worrisome.

That night, after the hilarity of the comedy show, we had dinner at the Garden Restaurant. It's at the top of the building beside Temple Square, and had the creme brullee thatwas on Daughter's list. The dining room has huge windows, overlooking the temple. As darkness fell, the spires of the temple were lit. One at a time, the lights on each spire would gradually start to glow and gain brightness in the dark and fog. When all six spires were lit, I realized again that the fog was snow, as the large flakes were silhouetted against the glow. It was a breathtaking sight.

We took our time leaving the next day, giving Soldier Pass a chance to thaw a little. I'd tried to check the highway cam online to see the conditions, but the camera's lense was covered with snow. That alone told me something.

Finally, we made our way home. Back to the chaos that we call home, anyhow. Daughter was a little quieter on the drive back. But we each carry brilliant memories of our time together. Our special time each year, that I'll treasure always.

How to make a difference to someone

This person probably has no idea he's impacted my daughter's life as much as he has. I wish I'd get the chance to tell him.

He's the kid front and center in the photo on this post. He's a senior at her school, the lead in the school production of "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory." He was so phenomenal in the role (including the unicycle riding) that they did not cast an understudy. The comparison would not have been fair.

The entire production was unbelievable, not to mention that a high school did this. The sets were incredible, including the scenes where Augustus gets sucked up the chocolate pipe and where Charlie and hig grandfather are floating around with the bubbles. We were mesmerized.

That said, he's also an award-winning drum major for the marching band. There's a couple of videos on YouTube.com of their homecoming performance. If you want to sit through them (one is short and one is long), you'll see why he's award-winning. He's the tall kid, front and center, in the orange uniform. Born to perform, I swear.

The short one - the Drum Major entrance

The longer one - the performance

Daughter is a freshman. She's new to the drumline. She should fly under his senior-status radar. Or so you'd think.

But no. I first saw him during marching band rehearsals, during the summer. I had picked up Daughter and a couple of friends for lunch, during one of their breaks. This boy pulled up beside us at a stoplight, his car overflowing with other senior friends.

Slowly and dramaticly, he turned a sunglass-topped grin over his should at Daughter and her friends in my car.

"Hey girl! How you doin'?" Which started a small chorus of "How you doin'?" from his pals.

Daughter cracked up at him, which seemed to make him smile, as we left the stop light.

When school started, she was delighted that he was one of the upperclassmen who went out of their way to say "hi" to her in the hallways. Her friends were appropriately impressed that it was the first day at their new school, and Daughter already had friends established. And senior friends at that! Ah...high school society....

After the school-year rehearsals started, the band still spent time doing stretches to prepare for practice. Daughter is quite body-conscious....or rather, self-conscious....and hates doing public stretches. But the band kids must pick a spot on the ground and go to it. She just wanted to shrink into the ground and get it over with.

But here comes this drum major. He picks a spot right beside her and says, "Hey Daughter! How are you doing?"

He engages her in conversaton about starting high school, her classes, teachers, band....then another upperclassman approaches.

"Hey, did you hear about...." he starts, to the drum major. He literally walked into the middle of the conversation and started a new one, excluding Daughter. She assumed she'd just gone by the wayside, being "just" a freshman.

"Wait a minute," says the drum major. "You just interupted my conversation here with Daughter."

The other boy laughs, taking it as a joke. "Yeah. So, did you..." he keeps going.

"I'm serious, man," says drum major. "Can't you see I'm having a very important conversation with Daughter here? You're going to have to wait." He says it with just enough humor in his voice that the other kid isn't offended, but he makes his point. The other kid waits his turn.

And Daughter finishes her conversation with someone who made her feel like what she had to say really mattered.

A lot of teenage girls would develop a crush on someone with this dynamic personality, who made them feel important. Not Daughter. She has a great respect for him as a leader, and a friend. She's watched him help lead their marching band through some tough things this year. His humor and charisma helped keep their pride up.

I don't know if he understands how he impacts others by just being himself. I hope I get the chance to tell him, as this kid heads off into the adult world. I'm hoping it'll be a life lesson he takes with him. I hope the world is good to him.

Whirlwind times ahead

Life is about to get a little crazy, but pretty fun. For the next three months, I've planned a lot of travel with the significant people in my life. It's going to require some frugal living to pull it off, but I'm hoping it'll all be worth it.

Next week, Daughter and I embark on our annual trip to Salt Lake City. She just loves it there and just can't wait for those few days every year when it's just she and Mommy, treating ourselves to a quiet hotel, seeing the sights, and casual shopping.

This year, we're throwing in something new. Comedian Brian Regan is performing at the theater just down the street from our hotel. He's has a family-friendly act and Daughter loves him, so we'll see him next week. Combining that with what we love seeing there anyhow, and it's going to be a nice time together, away from the craziness that is our home right now.

One good thing on that front is that others in the household have recognized the need for a teenage girl to have her own space. So, things have been rearranged for Daughter to have her own room back. I also suspect that my mother was afraid my sister and her brood were getting a little too comfortable, and the feeling was a little too permanent. And they were abusing Daughter's room. Posters pulled from the wall and trompled on the floor. Keeping it filthy with dirty clothes. So, we saved it. And now Daughter is decorating everything with tiger stripes, to reflect her school pride. Gotta love it.

At the end of March, I'll travel with Ranger to Missouri. He has a storage building of merchandise for his online store that needs to be moved here, so he can actually sell the stuff. And I'll get to meet his daughter for the first time. She and I are acquainted over the phone. She calls me all the time, especially when her mother has disappeared to her boyfriend's house for days at a time. His daughter is a year older than mine, and we have a lot in common. Since she's left to her own devices so often and for so long, I don't mind if she calls me in the middle of the night. I'd rather she do that than meet up with a hormone-driven boy....that could be disastrous.

We'll have about five days with his kids. I've met his son already. He's 21 and a techno-geek, so we also have a lot in common. Ranger is afraid of his ex pulling shenanigans with the kids, concerning me. She tries to undermine us getting along, anyhow. I wish she'd realize that you want your kids to get along with a potential step-parent. I've been there when they don't, and it's an unbelievable headache for everyone involved.

He's also afraid she'll try to disrupt our relationship. When I met him, she was really jerking him around. She rejected him, but liked to yank the chain still, to see if he'd jump for her. She likes control. A lot. She bragged to him the other day that she'd gotten her new boyfriend to do something for her that Ranger would never do. Her new boyfriend found a male friend to join in a threesome with them. It was said in the tone of "see how much better he is than you," and was hurtful to him.

Anyhow, Ranger and I have made a pact. No private conversations with her. If she wants to say something privately to one of us, we will make it clear that she can say whatever it is in front of the other one. No secrets.

Mid-April, I have my annual conference in Vail, Colorado. Four nights at a work-paid ski resort, during the last week of the ski season. Ranger will go with me again, like last year. It's so nice to go back to the room after a day of talking shop and being hit up by vendors, to have him waiting and anxious to pamper me and relax me in any way I like. And some ways I didn't even think of on my own! Last year, we had a balcony that overlooked the mountain and the ski runs. Vail is really beautiful, especially with someone who wants to enjoy it with you.

Then, May comes and, with it, the end of my son's high school career. A week after he finishes his classes, we've planned a trip together. It's probably the last time I'll get to do something like this with him.

I asked him what he wanted to see.

"Where's a good car museum?" he asked.

So, we're going to a huge (125,000 square foot) classic car museum in Las Vegas. We've searched all the attractions there and now have tickets to the car museum, Madame Tussaud's, and Circque du Soleil. Woo hoo!

I'm a little nervous about the drive to and from Vegas. Son likes to poke at me and try to get a reaction. In short, he likes to say things to piss me off. I think it's his particular brand of control, really. I just don't want to spend this little holiday pissed off.

Son has recently been accepted to the college where I work. We've been discussing majors and visiting with professors. He's on the cusp of his own life. And I will always miss the little boy he was, and worry a little about the man he's become.

Valentine's for everyone

We celebrated Valentine's Day a couple of days early. I took Friday the 12th off of work, for a couple of reasons. See, I'd planned a surprise for my folks. Our home is overrun right now, and they never do anything for themselves. It's a crazymaker for them. So, for Valentine's, I booked that weekend for them at a nice hotel in Glenwood Springs, which is far enough away to be a good getaway from everything without being a long drive. I also included a gift certificate for a nice Valentine's dinner, so that they could go out without worrying about the price.

I'd called ahead to the hotel in Glenwood Springs, to see if I could get into it early and set up a gift basket, bubbly, and some flowers for my folks. Not only did they allow me to do that, but they'd also upgraded their room to a suite! Woo hoo! My folks never take time for themselves. This was going to blow them away!

So, Friday the 12th, I met up with Ranger early in the morning. We were going to exchange gifts, then drive to Glenwood Springs together to get everything set up before my folks were to arrive.

Ranger gave me the most adorable teddy bear, a giant box of truffles, and three of the sweetest Valentine's cards I've ever seen. We had a unique problem this year -- every card we looked at seemed to say something so true about our relationship. About our history, our struggles, our deepest feelings....there was no way to pick just one. He also wrote sweet notes to me in each one, expressing even more than what the cards could say.

Then, it was my turn. I gave him some hazelnut chocolates (he loves hazelnut), two cards, and the book I mentioned before. You know, the "How I love you" one that you fill in yourself?

First, I showed him the cover. He read, "How I love you," and said it was so sweet.

I said, "But wait! There's more!" I opened the book and fanned through the pages. His jaw dropped as he saw all the writing in it. He took it from me, amazed.

"Is this what you've been saying you're 'working on' all week?" he asked, flipping through the writing.

"Yes," I said. I pointed out the last two pages, which were completely filled with writing. "This is what I was doing when you called last night."

He gathered me in his arms and buried his face in my shoulder. With my arms around him, I felt him trembling as he started to weep. "Thank you, thank you," he whispered.

He took my face in his hands, to look directly into my eyes. "No one has ever, EVER, gone to so much trouble for me," he said. "For just me. To make me feel loved." I wiped the tears from his cheeks, and we sat close as he read some of the book.

Soon, we climbed into the car together and headed down the road. It was a nice drive, about an hour and a half. Soon, snow was falling on us. We watched elk near the road, careful to slow so we didn't hit any. I wanted to call and warn my folks about heading into snow, but couldn't give away where I was. So, I had my sister pretend she'd seen it on the weather online.

Ranger and I picked up some flowers at a shop near the hotel. My mom called about then. "We're on our way now," she said. "I just wanted you to know, we're so excited! Thank you for doing this for us!"

I told her to be careful, then we headed into the hotel. The front desk people were expecting us and gave me the key to the suite. It was spectacular! Full of lovely antiques, with a separate sitting room for them. We set up the basket on the couch, filled the ice bucket to chill the non-alcoholic bubbly, set out two champagne flutes, and the vase of roses. In the flowers, we put a card that said, "Decor by Blogget and Ranger." Then, we made our escape to our favorite restaurant, about a block away.

About 30 minutes later, my phone rings. "You went all-out!" my mother was exclaiming! They'd just walked in the door of the suite and were completely overwhelmed.

"There's a gift basket! And flowers! And some bubbly! Do we get to keep those glasses?"

"Yes, you do," I said, laughing. I don't hear my mother delighted very often, especially not by something I've done lately.

"And they upgraded us to a suite!"

"Yes, I know!"

She stopped. "Wait...how do you know?"

"They told me when I called about getting into the room early to set things up."

"You did all this! I thought the hotel did! How did you get it here?"

"I drove up. Ranger helped me. In fact, we're still here."

"Here? You're here? You went to so much trouble! Where are you?"

"Eating lunch down the block. Then, we'll head back."

"Be careful," she said. "It's snowing here."

I had to laugh. I was watching it snow, too. We said our goodbyes, and I let them get to their quiet weekend away. They'd been searching travel books for things to do and had planned to explore the area the next day. That night, they'd have their romantic dinner in the same restaurant where I was having lunch that day.

Later, my mother would call me to tell me how incredible it was to them to be able to open a menu and not look at the prices. They'd never done that before. They got all that they wanted, and the bill came to 5 cents over the gift card amount.

The following day was dedicated to Daughter. Son had made plans with his girlfriend, but Daughter doesn't date yet. So, she invited her friends who didn't have boyfriends to a movie and dinner at our house. The highlight of the evening was to be the chocolate fountain. The girls couldn't be more excited!

This is how my Valentine's Eve was spent with the decibel-busting sounds of teenagers in my house. Ranger and I spent the evening in the kitchen, cooking up goodies for the crowd. We were peas in a pod! We daydream of cooking together, sharing the kitchen. It was hard work that night, but close and delightful. The chocolate fountain got a little messed up, but the girls didn't mind just dipping fruit and marshmallows into a bowl of melted chocolate.

Son even got home early and joined in the fun. His gift to his girlfriend kind of touched Ranger and me, too. He wanted to give her a flowering plant. And not just any plant. It had to be the same type of orchid Ranger had given me, just after we met.

"I remember when he did that," Son said. It was nearly two years ago. He had remembered and waited to do that for someone really special to him. That we'd made an impression on him -- that Ranger had -- was very meaningful to me.

Valentine's Day, I gave the gifts I'd picked up for the other family in my house. On a hunch, I'd picked up a little something for my sister. Good thing. As I'd suspected might happen, my thoughtful (not) brother-in-law had stiffed her for Valentine's. I couldn't stand to see her empty-handed, no matter how terrible she's been to me lately.

It was a weekend of happy tears, laughter, hugs, closeness, and sheer delight. I couldn't have dreamed of better.

Valentine's gifts....

....drive me crazy. What do you get a guy for Valentine's Day? Especially one as sensitive as Ranger, who has been so sweet to me lately. He's really busted his buns trying to repair the damage of the roommate incident. And he's trying to repair other "damage" I've had, without making me feel damaged at the same time.

He follows two foodie shows religiously. Tony Bourdain's "No Reservations" and Alton Brown's "Good Eats." I've given him every book in their respective collections. Except one - a new "Good Eats" book is out. But he doesn't have a good kitchen to cook in right now, so it makes him crazy to read about cooking and not be able to do it. So, that'll wait. No, I need something special for him.

I thought about a rockhounding book. But he has so many of those that I don't know what to get without him beside me. I thought about movies and music, but he gets those via download, so DVDs and CDs are no good. I thought about a romantic playlist...but we've done that.

We looked at some books that have tear-open pages of his and hers "instructions" for romantic and erotic nights at home. But they are really written for people who live together. We don't yet. These books mean a lot to him. My interest in them means a lot to him. See, he'd tried to give one to his now-ex-wife....and found it on the trash pile. So, if I made a gift of them to him, it would be touching to him because it would sympbolize my acceptance of his eroticly playful side. I thought they'd make a nice wedding gift, someday, when we would be living together finally.

For Valentine's, though? I'm at a loss.

Until I was at Borders with my daughter the other day.

"Hey, Mom! You should get this for Ranger!"

It's called How I Love You. The description says, "Containing hundreds of fill-in-the-blanks and leading questions, this guided journal helps readers compose the greatest love letter of all time."

Oh YES!

So, that's what I'm working on this week, in my copious (ha!) spare time. I'm rather proud of myself this year....well, with Daughter's help!

...who, by the way, is wanting to start wearing makeup. She's old enough, but it's just one of those "where's my baby?" things. We went shopping for it and have had the "Do and Don't" talk, and a few lessons. Where is my baby??

Catharsis

You know, I think blogging is how I deal with Mondays. I can think about the last few days and recap them, exploring as I go, and keep Monday at arm's length for a little longer. So, here I sit. Another Monday morning in my office. In front of me is a hot cup of chai (which I've already spilled once) and a wheat-flour blueberry muffin (so yummy!), from my new favorite hot beverage stop. They make hot chocolate with real melted chocolate bars and cream. You get one free on Saturdays if you show up in your jammies. Does it get better?

I think the wheat-flour blueberry muffin on Monday makes me feel better about the hot chocolate on Saturday. Welcome to my mental gymnastics.

But I digress....

Ranger and I had another glorious Friday together. It started in the afternoon. I'm restricted to working at my desk for six hours a day for another month (due to my recovery), so I'm off early in the afternoons. With nothing else to do on Friday, we started date night very early.

Ranger handed me my warm fleece pajama shorts and a t-shirt as I arrived at his place. Then, he sat me down at his laptop.

"We have pictures to look at," he said. "Fifty-two of them, to be exact."

"Fifty-two?" I asked, surprised. "When did you take that many?"

He chuckled. "A lot when you weren't looking," he said.

We spent time on each picture. I mentally flinched when each one came up. My eye is drawn to what I'd change about me. To the things I try to hide, and that hurt me when I see I didn't really hide them.

Ranger seemed to know that was happening. He'd start commenting immediately and reach in to point at the screen. "Oh, sweetie," he'd soothe. "Look how gorgeous you are in that!"

"Look how this lace lays so perfect on your skin."

"Look at the line from here to your waist. What a curve!"

"Look at that cute ass. I like how the laces from the back fall over you."

"Look at your thighs in those stockings."

Ranger is a thigh and ass man. Actually, he never been an ass man before me. Or so he says.

Yes, I could see what he saw. And it was doing battle with what I saw. I started to cry.

"I'm sorry," I said, looking at him through tears. "I'm trying so hard to let what you see replace what I see. But it's not happening immediately."

"I know," he said. "It'll take some time and maybe showing you these things again and again. But you just have to believe how beautiful you are to me."

"Please don't be discouraged or disappointed with me," I said. The last thing I want is to frustrate him or make him feel like I'm rejecting what he's trying to do for me.

"Never," he said. He kissed at my tears, then lay with me on the bed. Softly, he told me he knew what part of me I most disliked. And he was right. I despise my tummy. And talking about it makes me cry. But he has a very unique patience and understanding with my tears and my insecurities, like no one has ever had with me before.

He caressed me and told me what he loved. He told me why he didn't see the things that I thought of as my flaws. Suddenly, he stopped.

"Don't move," he said. "This is something I've wanted you to see, but you can't. And the light is just perfect now."

He grabbed the camera, talking softly the whole time. As if the sound of his voice would chase away the image he wanted to capture. "You have this cute peach fuzz at the small of your back," he said. "And the way the light is hitting yur backside right now just brings it out. You just have to see it."

The result is below. Pardon me posting a photo of my own ass, but I think it's a little more "artful" than just that. I couldn't believe it was an image of part of my body.. And for me, it's a very bold and telling step for me to be able to post this.

Learning to see

Ranger and I had a chance for a nice little getaway last week. We made it about two hours from home, scouting suitable places for that honeymoon we dream about.

We stayed in a couple of historic hotels, in smaller-town settings. One in particular was in a remote little town (population about 100 during the winter) called Redstone, surrounded by historic sites. Heck, the town itself is a historic site! You can take horse-drawn sleigh rides in the winter and carriage rides in the summer. The Redstone Inn is reputed to be haunted. The hotel is very strict with their non-smoking policy, and we didn't have neighbors around our room. However, Ranger and I each had the experience of smelling a strong scent of pipe tobacco on separate occasions in our room. Interesting because the hotel was originally used as quarters for bachelor miners working in the town.

The hotel is pictured above, as it looks about now, covered in snow. To say the place was cozy and romantic is an understatement. It has a tranquility and warmth that makes you just want to snuggle in and watch the snow fall all day. Our room was similar to the one below and was very reasonably priced at $79 a night. Actually, it's usually $89, but I'd booked a smaller room, and they upgraded us at no additional cost. Gotta love that.


We had dinner in their little restaurant that night. It was quite possibly the most romantic dinner we've ever had together. And beyond delicious. This little place has a marvelous chef!

Back at the room, I took some time to shower and unwind. When I came out of the bathroom, I found that Ranger had unpacked the suitcase with my lingerie in it. We've picked out quite a bit, but I haven't had the chance to wear all of it. He had warned me that I'd amassed a real "collection," but now I looked around the room to find each and every surface just dripping with lovely things to wear. Some we skimpy, some very sexy, and some cozy.

"We're tired, so we don't have to do this tonight," he said. "But I'd like to see you model these for me. I'd like to take some pictures of you in them."

"You would?" I said, wondering what kind of pictures he had in mind.

"Yeah. I want to take them and look at them with you, and show you what I see when I look at you."

But for that night, he picked out something soft and cozy for me to wear. Namely, a soft pink t-shirt and little fleece shorts -- which he apparently found just as sexy as satin and lace.

The next night, we moved north to Glenwood Springs, which you've heard me mention before. We've stayed at another historic hotel there, the Hotel Colorado, but we wanted to try out another one closer to "downtown" (which is still quaint and charming, in a town this size). Specifically, it's in the same block as our all-time favorite restaurant, Juicy Lucy's Steakhouse.

So, we moved on to the Hotel Denver. It's a little more pricey than Redstone, but worth it, in my humble opinion. The hallway worried me. The doors along the hallway seemed very...institutional. I opened our room's door and immediately saw a beautiful four-poster bed in the room, covered with a beautiful quilt. The room was furnished with lovely antiques and had hardwood floors. But what took my breath away was the window. A large, brightly-lit window of stained glass roses.

"This is it," Ranger said, staring at the beautiful colors streaming through the afternoon light. "This is where I want to take those pictures of you. With the light from that window."

He picked out some favorite pieces from my "collection." Things I had never worn before. They were satin and lace bustiers with matching panties, fishnet stockings, chiffon and embroidery. And no, I wasn't completely comfortable putting them on yet. When I looked in the mirror, I still saw the bits of me that I loathe. I wished the pretty things could hide me a little better.

But that's not what Ranger saw. After putting on each outfit, I turned to the mirror to see what was there. This lingerie was indeed beautiful and soft on my skin. I found out later that Ranger took candid photos of me looking in the mirror.

Maybe he read my expression, though, or the lines of my gaze. He stepped up behind me, in my reflection.

"Do you see how beautiful you are?"

I didn't answer.

"Here. Let me show you want I see." He turned me slightly, so I saw my back in the reflection. He put his fingers on my shoulder, tracing the curve of my body along my back, to my hip. "Look at this line. Look how beautiful that is. This is what I see."

He did this again and again, showing me how this pretty thing and that fit my body, and what his eye couldn't get enough of. In all, he took close to 50 photographs that day. In the photos, he pointed out to me how the light played along my curves, my face, my long curls.

I was literally seeing through his eyes. I tried on half a dozen "outfits." Finally, when I looked at a particular one in the mirror, I started to cry. I had turned to the mirror, and for the first time ever, I saw...beauty. Just simple beauty.

He took photos as I stared, running my hands lightly down my body, astonished by what I saw and felt. He posed me a couple of times. I smiled genuinely for the first time that day. The picture shows a seductive glint in my eye. He put down the camera.

"That's enough," he said. "No more today. This, now, is how I want you to feel when I make love to you."

And in those following hours, we learned to be just that much more thankful for each other.

Breaking down, to be built up

A couple of weeks ago, Ranger and I were having lunch together. We were engrossed in one of our many conversations about our relationship and how it's different from others we've had.

I don't recall how it started, but the topic became how words and actions can say different things. See, in my romantic past, I've had a handful of men profess undying love for me. I've had them tell me they've never met anyone like me, that they can't imagine life without me, that they've never loved anyone like they love me.

Then, I'd be ignored. Or I'd be put down. Or they start meeting other women. Or outright cheating.

As I was talking about this, I said, "I really started to question why it was so tough to give me what I wanted, when it was so simple? Why wasn't my love enough to accept and return? I really felt like something was wrong with me, that no one was happy with loving just me."

I looked up, and Ranger was looking away from me. His eyes were sad, as he watched the snow outside. I thought I'd reminded him of something equally painful. He hadn't realized I was looking at him.

I touched his hand. "I'm sorry," I said. "Did I say something wrong?"

He shook his head. "No," he said, holding my hand. "I just realized that I made you feel like that, too."

If you're like me, your compulsion in moments like this are to reassure and say, "It's okay." I didn't say that. I stayed quiet. Yes, he'd made me feel like that. And no, it wasn't okay. It was getting better, but it wasn't okay to have done it. My eyes were misty, so I just nodded.

He saw the tears I was trying to control. He got up and moved to my side of the booth. He put his arms around me. "I never wanted to hurt you like that. You should never have to feel like that. Then, now, or ever. I love you like I've never loved anyone. You love me like no one ever has. You love me like I've dreamed of being loved. I'm going to spend my life making your dreams come true, if you'll let me. I swear. You'll never feel that hurt again."

A few days ago, we finally talked about the details of what exactly happened between him and the roommate. I'd realized that I was "stuck" in some ways, in trying to deal with this situation. I needed to have some answers, and either they came from him or I'd have to assume the worst and see if I could get over that. I told him exactly that.

"Don't assume the worst," he said. "Please don't. That's not what happened."

So, I gave him an opening to tell it all, in a safe environment. He would have just this one opportunity to tell it all to me. The whole truth and nothing but. And no matter what he told me, I wouldn't walk away from him, from us.

However, I had one condition. He had to explain it all. It had to make sense. It needed to include everything he didn't know I knew. If I were to ever discover something he didn't tell me or didn't tell me the truth of, my trust would be too broken to recover from. And I do have a proven and uncanny knack for finding out these things. It was a do or die, now or never situation.

I think he also needed to experience telling me the truth of something and not having the huge explosion he feared. He had a twenty-year marriage, in which he spent lots of time and energy figuring out how to avoid the explosions, which happened frequently. He needs to unlearn those avoidance tactics, to keep things honest.

So, we talked. I heard it all. Yes, it was sometimes painful for me, and I didn't hide it. Seeing my pain, raw and in front of his eyes, tore his heart out. It will probably turn out to be a big deterrent for him. And I saw his deep shame and self-disgust over the whole situation.

I've mentioned before that after he turned her away, she moved on to another roommate, without missing a beat. In recent weeks, her ex-husband moved in with her, they reconciled, and have subsequently moved out. While Ranger and a couple of the roommates were chopping wood the other day, they started talking about her. Turns out she also propositioned yet another roommate - while her ex-no-more was asleep in her own bed.

Ranger is ashamed that he let the friendship with this girl get so close. He is embarrassed to have behaved so badly. He is disgusted that he put me on the line for something so...cheap.

And so, we move on. He told me that he understands that this is by no means the last time we'll talk about it or the end of the issues I might have. He's open to anything I want to ask or discuss. Anything to help heal this. Anything to keep us together, always and in all ways.

Friday, we had a "date night." Our night where my family doesn't expect me home until very late, and they know to leave me alone (except for emergencies). Ranger was really anticipating our date night this time. (And what's written below is why my blog has an "adult" warning.)

"I want so much for you to see and feel how I see you," he said. This is his new mission in life, lately. As part of this, we now often surf lingerie sites together, where he shows me the pretty things he thinks would be pretty on me. And he explains why he picks them.

The reasons aren't just "because it turns me on." It's more like, "This fabric would lay so smooth on your breasts," or "This style would hug your curves so nicely." There's a particular style of boyshorts he saw that has a little slit and bow at the hip. "That slit is such a tease and the bow is so cute at your hip," he says. "And I love how your hip curves right there." I have about a dozen pairs of that particular style of panties now.

In the past, I've experienced men telling me that having a baby "ruined" my body. One boyfriend in college looked at a magazine model, then at me, then back to the magazine to say, "Too bad women like this don't exist." Old BF sent me naked pictures of Ashley Judd and said, "Look how pretty she is." Putting on lingerie felt like I was pretending to be something I'm just not - sexy, sensual, erotic woman. It made me feel foolish.

Now, here's Ranger. Trying so desperately to show me how he sees me. Friday night, our love-making was astounding. He was so passionate with me, so erotic, that I had a bit of a breakthrough. See, I always have this self-speak in my mind during sex. I have to because my body is very difficult to get to a climax. I've frustrated every lover I've had. Except Ranger. He understands that I have to concentrate on what my body is feeling. I have to imagine what I feel but can't see.

In my mind is an erotic dialogue.....that I never share. I moan, but I don't speak. To say it made me feel, again, like I was trying to look like something I'm not.

That night, I spoke. I voiced my dialogue. Ranger has a gifted tongue, and I told him so. I let my fingers trace his face as he went down on me. It drove him wild. And when I returned the favor, I let my pleasure at exciting him become known, too. I also made sure he knew I was concentrating on his pleasure, hitting all of his preferred spots and strokes.

See, it's a little known secret that I'm really good with a penis. I pay attention to what a man likes best, where he is most sensitive, and I've learned how to exploit it. I just hold back too often because, again, I feel foolish to be pretending to be a woman I'm not.

But I broke through that with Ranger that night. I saw myself through his eyes. And there, I'm beautiful and sexy and erotic, and everything I wished I could be. I became that woman. Or rather, I finally let that woman in me break free.

Later, as we lay spent and satisfied, he told I was something else I never thought I could be. The best a man has ever had.

It may seem strange to you that a sex act could mean so much to a person. But that night, a door to my self-image was kicked open. And stayed open. I'd say I'm a different woman, but that's not exactly true. That "other" woman existed in me, but I was ashamed to let her out. Now, the shame is gone. The foolishness is gone. Ranger helped her step out into the light. And I've finally let her be a real, significant part of me.

Update on my favorite Marine

(Uhm...being sarcastic. He's NOT my favorite, in case you missed earlier posts....)

Now and again, I like to look at my blog stats to see how people arrive here. It gives me links to Google searches that people did that gave good ol' Blogget as a result, and they clicked on through. Two caught my eye. They were searches for:

"hating my brother in law"

and

"my brother in law is self absorbed"

That makes me laugh! Thanks! But it reminded me to post an update.

My sister is considering divorce. See, when her husband got back from Afghanistan and had to stay in California for a little while, he took up a habit of going honky-tonking. Every night. To the same country western bar. With the family budget. He even took line dancing lessons.

She apparently expressed her dismay about her husband behaving like a single guy and spending all night, every night, dancing the hours away with other women. His response? He sees nothing wrong with that.

Am I just crazy here? Or would that not bug the crap out of you, to have your spouse out partying every night?

He did this with a particular friend, who is a big partier. My sister isn't fond of this friend at all because he encourages her husband to do very un-husbandly things.

So, obviously, this honky-tonking thing is a problem for her. Whether he likes it or not, his wife is bothered by it.

In the meantime, he leave California, spends the holidays here, and goes back to Cali last Sunday.

And where does he go when he gets there? You guessed it. That same bar. And it all starts over again.

Now, add to this that her suspicions here raised on the day he left here. My nephew says to my
Mom, "Daddy isn't going to the barracks. He's going to move in with a friend!"

This is a surprise. He has to be in the barracks as long as possible because they haven't sold their house and don't have the money for him to pay rent, groceries, etc. (much less, cover charges and bar tabs)

Being my mom, she goes to my sister with this. My sister hollers upstairs to her husband. "Hey, are you moving into the barracks?"

Pause. "Uhm. No. I'm moving in with so-and-so." He names the partier friend.

The proverbial shit hit the fan. But in that hush-hush, don't-let-the-kids-hear kind of way.

Then, he goes straight to the bar in Cali. Wow. He actually didn't intend for her to know. She GPS tracked his phone there. On a hunch.

Her biggest worry is how their middle child would handle a divorce. He struggles every day with mental illness issues. I had a thought.

"You know," I said. "The kids aren't used to having him in their daily lives. You could easily let things stay as they are for them, go through the process quietly, and not have to tell them until it's all said and done, and things are more stable." Well, if their stupid dad will keep his mouth shut, that'll work.

No has has talked about it for a few days now. So, we'll see. More on that front later.

Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!

Last week, I toodled on down to Montrose for a couple of days, to teach workshops to new online faculty at that campus. Friday morning, I toodle back to my office and find a note taped to my door.

"Blogget: Meet with (insert student name and phone number) ASAP on Friday before noon. He's taking online classes starting Tuesday. Needs help and instructions."

Hmmm....

The first thing that gets me is that this isn't what I do. I develop online instruction and teach the faculty how to teach online. I don't do student orientations. The computer lab people do that. If the student has a disability, then the Ed Access department does that. I also built an online student tutorial that's very thorough, for just this purpose.

Second, this just puts me in a bad spot to explain this and have to bounce people to the right person to help them. If others would just figure out what the right process is in the first place, I wouldn't look like I'm being difficult.

So, I sat and stewed about this for about 30 minutes. I get to work early, but no one I can call about this is there untile 8:00 AM.

The receptionist in my office suite saved me the trouble.

"Did you get my note?" she asked, when she came in to work.

"Yes," I said, trying to not sound peeved. "What's the story? Because student orientations aren't handled by me."

"I know," she said. Her expression told me something weird was going on. "This guy showed up yesterday with his mother, looking for you. Someone gave them your name specifically as the person to show him his online classes, one-on-one, and walk him through everything."

I just gaped. If I did that for every student who signed up for an online class....well, we have about 2,000 of those. How would my day go? Besides, other people are trained to do that. I have to sweat the faculty, which is a handful, lemmetellya.

"Who did that?"

"I don't know," she continued. "But this was weird, Blogget. They were demanding to see you and just you, right then. I told them you were in Montrose. I told them other places to get help. I told them about the tutorial. It just flew by them, and they were getting mad that I didn't have the answer they wanted."

She went on to describe their demeanor. The mother did all the talking. She kept telling him to "listen to her," but neither was listening. He was getting belligerent, and Mom was in a frenzy of wanting to order people about, but mad that it wasn't working. And she was mad I wasn't in my chair, when she wanted me there.

I was glad for the heads-up. I checked my online course system to see what courses he was taking. Funny thing, I didn't show him in anything at all. I saw two old online courses, but nothing new. But if he's taken them before, why does he need instructions now?

I checked my voicemail and had three messages from the guy's mother. She called after leaving here. But she'd been told I was out of town. What was she hoping to do by calling repeatedly? And why can't this fella speak for himself?

My phone rang. Guess who?

Man, it was like talking to a megaphone. First thing in the morning, and she was already in a frenzy. I heard the whole thing all over again, but couldn't get a word in. I did learn that he's on the waiting list for all of these courses. The Student Services office is "getting him into the classes." Good luck to them.

Finally, she ended with something to the effect of, "...and he goes to work at noon, so you better work with him this morning."

I was able to explain (in my calmest voice) what I do and how I fit on campus. I explained the other services available. I started to explain the tutorial, but she said:

"He's not a visual person, so that won't work."

Ok. WOW. Then why is he taking online courses? Yikes.

She didn't want to hear anything other than, "bring him to my office and I'll show him every click to make."

"Here's the problem," I explained. "I don't know how each of his courses will run. The instructor has total control over what tools they use and how they structure the course. I think the better option would be for me to contact these instructors and ask them to contact him, once he appears in their roster. They can explain what's expected and required in their class, so he has a better idea of it how it'll all run."

She agreed with that. We're a smaller college, so instructors don't mind making this kind of contact with a student. And it got this woman off the phone.

Oh! And why was she calling me and not her son? He was still asleep.

Something was so weird about the situation. I could feel it.

Oh, and I found out the VP of Student Services gave them my name and sent them to see me. Nice. He should know better.

I emailed the instructors, explained the situation, and asked them to contact him. I did manage to get the son's phone number from the mother, so that would help. Maybe.

On a hunch, I called the Ed Access people, to see if there was more scoop on what's happening with this fella. A disability or some such? If so and he was registered with them, they could help a lot. I had to leave a voicemail.

In the meantime, one of the instructors replied to my email. He said: "I've had two years of trouble with this guy. I told the Student Services VP that I'm very, very hesitant to work with this guy again."

Oh. Yikes.

Ed Access called me back. "Yeah, we know who this is. Remember that email we got last term that said something like, 'If you see this person on campus, call the police. Don't approach him. Call the police.'? It's that guy. They are readmitting him to the college, but only if he takes all online classes."

Can you hear that thud-thud-thud? It's my heart. The VP recommended an obviously dangerous person come to my private office, isolated at the end of the hall behind the noisy server room, to meet with me one-on-one.

Blogget is soooo not happy. Neither is Ranger. He's a little protective, you see.

I talked to my boss, too. He wasn't happy, either. Actually, he found it really disturbing.

I checked the online tutorial. The guy is working through it. He posted a discussion message, saying he picked online courses because the college required it. And because he wanted more time to play with his cat.

Oh boy.

Classes started yesterday. I get a call from Student Services. They asked if this guy's courses require him to sign in at 1:30 each day. He said he can't because he works. We checked it out. None of our courses require that. He made it up. Trouble brewing already.

It's going to be a long semester.

Remember the Alamo!

(WARNING: get comfortable. This is a long one!)

"Remember the Alamo!" That's a phrase I heard over and over, growing up in Texas. My household bleeds Lone Star. I'm a fifth-generation Texan, after all!

At the beginning of the school year, we learned that Daughter's marching band had been invited to the Alamo Bowl, to participate in the halftime show with other high school bands from across the country. They've been raising money for this all semester and counting the days! It's a big adventure for a small-town high school band.

My surgery threw a kink in our initial planning. I wanted to go as a chaperone, but my surgery would keep me from living up to those expectations. Moving very slow, not able to lift anything heavier than a milk jug, needing extra rest....yeah, that just wasn't going to work.

And I had to go. My ex announced he would go to San Antonio to see Daughter during this trip. Saved him the expense and effort of coming to Colorado. I wasn't about to have him and his lovely (NOT) wife hovering around without keeping an eye on things.

So, I had to be there, but traveling would be difficult. I mean...I can't drive, bend, lift, twist, push, or pull. I needed help. We talked about it and Ranger would also go, to help me. The suggestion actually came from Daughter, initially. She really loves Ranger and loves being around him. She was worried about me traveling and hurting myself. She also worried about me spending so much time alone. Her itinerary was pretty tight, with rehearsals and clinics and visiting with her dad. Her free time was pretty well soaked up.

On a hunch, I asked her, "So, this trip. Am I right that you're thinking of it as a school trip with your buddies? And not time with Mommy?"

She smiled sheepishly and said, "Uhm...yeah. That's pretty well it. Is that okay?" She was worried about hurting my feelings.

"Perfectly fine, baby girl," I said. "I remember high school. I want you to have a great time there. I'll be around whenever you want, though. Just holler." She wanted me nearby when she first met with her dad and stepmom, though.

As the trip got closer, my ex started making noise about "his" visitation. I reminded him that this was primarily a school trip, and she'd have to adhere to their itinerary and rules. After all, the school was not paying for her to have visitation with her father. He argued that he was a "special case" and should be an exception to the rules.

I warned the band director about this. Good thing. He got some lovely emails from my ex. The director spelled out Daughter's "free" time. On Friday afternoon, they would go to the mall, the Alamo, and take a riverboat cruise. He was free to join them, but could not take her away from the group. The kids had to stay in groups of three or more. On Saturday afternoon, she would have free time at the hotel for three hours. Again, he could visit her at the hotel, but not remove her from the group.

I mean, look at it from the director's perspective. Who is this guy to him? Is he the kind of ex who would take off with her and not come back? He has rules and must stick to them, for a reason.

Oh, but not to my ex. Remember, he's the exception to every rule. He had a fit and a half. He kept trying to get me to pull strings to get him into the closed rehearsals. Again, these rehearsals were closed by Alamodome security, for obvious reasons. But even they should have made an exception for him.

And me pull strings? There aren't any to pull. These are rules made by The Powers That Be. I'm just a mommy.

I bought Daughter her own set of luggage. Nothing fancy, but sturdy enough to get her through high school trips for the next four years. It's bright purple. She's in love with it.

Our flight was chartered from Grand Junction to San Antonio. We left at 11:00 PM on Tuesday, December 29th, amid a fresh dumping of snow in the Grand Valley. I was so thankful for Ranger. Every time I turned around, there was something I wasn't allowed to do. He watched out and took care of me, every step of the way.

We arrived in San Antonio in the wee hours of Wednesday. We stayed at a different hotel than the band. I picked a hotel close to Daughter's activities. Something central. So, Ranger and I checked into the Marriott Riverwalk at nearly 4:00 AM. On the twentieth floor, with a balcony overlooking the Riverwalk. We'd be able to see New Year's fireworks from that balcony, too. The room was beautiful and comfortable. The setting was perfect for us to rest and relax, rediscover each other, and do a little healing.

I bought some very sexy lingerie, too. I'd put it in a bag, closed it up, and had Ranger pack it in his suitcase. I didn't want all the nosey people in my house getting into it. When we got to San Antonio, he confessed that he hadn't been able to resist peeking in the bag. He was completely blown away by what he saw.

"You bought that just for me?" he asked. He'd noticed the items still had tags on them.

"Yes," I said. "With just you in mind."

He started to tear up. "No one has ever done that for me before," he said. "No one has 'dressed' for just me, with what I like in mind." It meant more to him than I could have imagined. In his mind, he's never been "special" to anyone. Until now.

He also teared up because he realized that he was indeed very special to me, and he had taken that for granted and hurt me. He reiterated that he wanted to spend the rest of his life showing me how special I am to him, and proving that no one could ever come between us again.

The pic here is the view from my room, overlooking the Riverwalk. It was just lovely! Newly-remodeled Marriott rooms have cushy beds and bedding, big soft chairs, and media centers, where you can plug all kinds of media into the TV. With that in mind, we brought lots of movies and TV shows we have in digital format, to watch together. See, with us, the romantic times are when we're out together, or when we're making love, or when we're just cuddled up watching TV. It's the big moments and little ones that matter, all together. I find joy in the most mundane moments, though.

Besides, although I was up for some physical activity, I still needed lots of downtime. I mean, for pity sake, I wasn't even allow to drive yet.

And Ranger planned on taking care of me in all respects. We showered together that night and slipped into the comfortable bed to sleep. No really. We slept. We were exhausted from a long day and night.

We got up and around late that morning and went to the hotel restaurant, which served breakfast all day. There, Ranger discovered something new: real chorizo. It dawned on him that we were now deep in the heart of Texas, among authentic Mexican culture and, more importantly, Mexican food. He spent the rest of the trip pursuing great chorizo, like he'd never have it again!

We wandered over to Daughter's band rehearsal at a nearby high school field. We got out of the way when they started serving lunch to the kids. She'd text me in a little while to let me know what they were doing that afternoon. Ranger and I went to Market Square, where I did a little souvenir shopping for the folks back home. Just can't beat the prices there! The text came from Daughter, who turned out to be in the same market as us. We met up with her little group and shopped. She got this great Baja hoodie in her school colors, for $10. Too cool!

I saw the band director and said, "I understand you've had some lovely emails with my ex."

He rolled his eyes and laughed, "Oh yeah!"

I reassured him that Daughter and I were on the same page he was. She understood the rules and the reason for them. She was committed to sticking to them. He thanked me for that, saying it was a relief that at least we understood where he was coming from.

My ex called me later, to see if I'd pulled those strings yet. I explained that there weren't any to pull. Again.

"Well, we're coming in Friday," he said. "I'd like to see their band competition and the rehearsals."

This irked me because he had a copy of her itinerary. "Uhm, that's a problem," I said. "Her competition is Thursday and the rehearsals are closed. Still."

He wasn't happy with me, but what else is new?

I'd run out of energy, so we made our way back to the hotel for a nap. Ranger and I cuddled up close and snoozed. It was delightful. Pure bliss.

Later in the afternoon, we went to something I haven't been to since college -- a pep rally. Texas Tech and Michigan State had a shared pep rally on the river, by the Rivercenter Mall. I warned Ranger of something.

"Texas Tech fans are obnoxious," I said. He nodded. "No," I said. "Really. Mark my words." I told him about the more recent "tradition" of drying out tortillas to throw during football games. The fans at the pep rally didn't let me down.

I pointed out Raider Red, the mascot with an uncanny resemblance to Yosemite Sam. See what I mean in the pic to the right (and no, I don't know anyone in that picture)? Cheerleaders everywhere. During Tech's "turn" to rally, the fans were exceptionally loud. The Michigan State fans looked a little taken aback. Welcome to Texas football.

The bands floated to the rally on riverboats, with the teams in boats behind them. As the Michigan State players floated by, Tech fans pointed and shouted things like "You're going down, bubba!" When the Tech players went by, Tech fans cheered....and Michigan State fans were politely quite. Oh boy.

Ranger was beginning to understand what I meant. Here's the video.

That night, we wandered across the street to the other Marriott, to a place called Sazo's. It sucked. Big time. The food was horrible. The atmosphere ruined by employees dumping our silverware trays, then heading to the bar to party with each other. I'm not one to be very silent on this, so I made my opinions known. Luckily, the manager was receptive and handled it nicely.

The next day was New Year's Eve. We started to see more crowds. We saw more red-and-black clothes and more green-and-white clothes. The football fans were arriving. We took a riverboat tour along the Riverwalk. Those are interesting during the day, and romantic at night. We planned on taking the romantic route that evening, when we headed out to celebrate the New Year.

Daughter would be attending a New Year's dinner and dance for all the bands participating in the Alamo Bowl show. It was closed to all non-chaperone adults, so I saw her at her competition that day. We hugged and wished Happy New Year. She was having a ball, and I was so glad to see that! She's just grown so independent, so fast. ((sigh))

We picked our New Year's dinner carefully. See, there's this chain of barbecue restaurants in Texas, and they are near and dear to my heart. My uncle worked for them when they started up and brought with him some family recipes. These recipes were from my great-grandparents, who came to this country in the early 1900s and settled in Detroit, where they met. By the time it was all said and done, they owned a chain of 18 bakeries there. My uncle brought their recipes for homemade bread and potato salad to the restaurant.

When he left, the chain tried to keep him from taking the recipes with him. He won the court battle, but they also retained the recipes. They use them to this day.

One of these restaurants was in Lubbock, but closed to all but catering business. Imagine my delight to find one on the Riverwalk! I could hardly wait to share this with Ranger, who you know is as much of a foodie as I am. To be able to taste my great-grandparents' cooking, decades after they've gone from this world....well, that's pretty dang special.

I dressed in an outfit I'd picked just for that night. Enough sex appeal to keep Ranger wishing we were back at the hotel, but not enough to be skanky. Skanky just isn't me. So, we wandered to the river and flagged down a water taxi. He explained that it was a long route to where we wanted to be, but we didn't mind. We paid the $5 fare, and settled into seats on the bench.

It was a perfect moment. One that has become a place of serenity for me, when chaos surrounds me. The breeze on the water was nippy, so I leaned back into Ranger's chest. He put his arms around me, holding me close. Soft kisses on my cheek, as we drifted under tree branches dripping with Chrismas lights.

People on the shore shouted "Happy New Year!" and we waved back. Some shouted "Guns Up!" -- the Texas Tech battle call. I made my obligatory "guns up" sign back, as a good alum should, and Ranger laughed. He never went to a college with a football team, let alone in Texas, so the Public Displays of School Spirit were cracking him up.

We docked at the restaurant and made our way to the host stand, to be addd to the list. Then, we found seats at the bar while we waited. Ranger hovered over me, acting as my buffer from a jostling crowd. He was my protector that night, but when he looked at me, his eyes almost filled with tears. "You're so beautiful tonight," he kept saying. He absently stroked my hair, which was falling in soft curls from the humidity.

Dinner was delightful. Good, old-fashioned Texas barbecue, with my great-grandparents' bread and potato salad, and cool sweet tea. Perfection. Neither of us could finish our plates. I took a picture of Ranger at the point of giving up, uploading it to my Facebook page. His daughter commented immediately that she "liked" it. (A sidenote here: she loves me....she actually listed me as "mother" on her little family tree on Facebook.)

We did a little shopping next door at the Hard Rock Cafe shop. Daughter has souvenir drumsticks from each Hard Rock location I've visited, so I couldn't skip this sidetrip!

We caught the water taxi again, and enjoyed the ride back to the hotel. The water lulled us a little with our full tummies and cozy warmth. We strolled back up to the hotel, up to the 20th floor, where we put out the Do Not Disturb sign and shed clothing along the path to the bed.

As per our request, the hotel had delivered an iced bottle of sparkling wine and chocolate-dipped strawberries. We were too full to break into that, though. We nestled into the big soft bed and watched "Six Feet Under," until the fullness could subside. We lost track of time. I became aware of a ruckus outside the hotel.

"What is all that?"

Ranger looked at the clock. "Three minutes to midnight!" Quickly, we cracked open the bubbly, poured two glasses, grabbed our robes, and stepped out on the balcony.

This video is rough, but it's what we saw that night. I've never seen anything quite like it! The horizon filled with the blossoming of fireworks, all around the city. The traffic below stopped. Cars honked. People yelled. We heard music from the carnival nearby. Simply, amazing!

Click here to go to the YouTube video of what I saw from my hotel balcony. Like I said, it's rough, but you get the idea!

We kissed. We sipped our wine. "This will be our year," Ranger said. "I promise. I will make you believe in everything again, I swear. You are my world. You are my everything."

"Just me?" I asked. "I'm enough for you?"

"More than enough," he said. "I promise you. Always, and in all ways." His eyes were earnest, almost piercing in how he looked at me. There was a desperation there, too, searching for signs that I believed him.

"I need to feel that again," I said. "I think we're starting to mend it. But it can't be broken ever again." He nodded. He understood what I was telling him.

We watched the flash of the fireworks at the Tower of the Americas. Simply stunning. I got a "Happy New Year, Mom! I love you!" text from Daughter, and said goodnight to her. 2010 was officially underway.

We lazed about on New Year's Day. We made love and ate a late breakfast. Daughter was going to text me when they left their hotel, so we could meet her and her friends for lunch at the mall. The text came, and we headed out. I spotted Daughter in the outdoor part of the food court. As I walked through the door, I noticed my weeble-shaped ex-husband standing beside her. His younger daughter was with him.

Okay, so here's Petty Laugh #1 for the day: he's been telling me that he weighs near 300 pounds, "But it's all muscle because I work out." See him just then, I can tell you weebles do not have 300 pounds of muscle.

I opened the door. One of Daughter's friends looked up at me, and hollered, "Mommy!" Ranger laughed. Weeble frowned. He does that a lot. I said hello and hugged Daughter. I said hello to Weeble and his little daughter. I introduced Ranger. We talked with Daughter about their plans for the afternoon. They were going to the Alamo and taking a riverboat cruise. We were all welcome to come along.

Here's Petty Laugh #2 for the day: a blobby woman appeared by Weeble's side. I wondered why this stranger had no respect for personal space, then realized it was his wife. Looks like the universe has a sick sense of humor, and all the weight I've lost has appeared on the woman who is so mean to my child. Gotta love that.

She was preoccupied with two things. The pigeons perched overhead and Ranger. She looked him up and down, almost to the point of being rude. However, my ex was doing the same thing to me. As I spoke, he never made eye contact. His gaze wandered up and down my side, making me very uncomfortable. Thankfully, it was time to meet the rest of the band group for the Alamo tour, so we al took off for the meeting spot. Weeble's wife decided to stay behind and shop.

I've been to the Alamo many times. Ranger never has. Daughter's friends never had. I loved watching her be the "expert" on this part of Texas history. I lagged behind, to give her time with her dad. He hadn't seen her in a year and a half, so I gave them space to visit all they wanted.

Ranger soaked up all the history. He loved the displays of archeological finds from the Alamo grounds. He studied all the dioramas. It was fun to watch him. Sometimes, I looked up, and fund he was watching me, though. That was nice.

When we gathered the troops again, I told Daughter that we'd been on the riverboat cruise, so I'd let her have the time with her dad. She was happy with that, kissing me on the cheek before bounding off with her friends. We'd meet again for dinner, when the group went to Fuddrucker's.

But her dad didn't go with her. He stayed behind. He had complained about not having enough time with her, yet he was skipping a big part of it. His daughter chatted with me while he took a phone call. It was his wife. She was quite upset.

Guess why? Oh, this is too good. High-five to the universe.

A pigeon pooped on her.

Petty Laugh #3 is the biggest one yet.

He went off for awhile on one of his political rants, regurgitated from Rush Limbaugh. Then, he took off to go help his wife buy a new, poop-free shirt.

We saw them again at the restaurant. They'd finished their dinner before Daughter got there and decided not to wait for her. Ranger and I waited, and she was happy to see us. She's learned that her dad sometimes doesn't follow through on promises, so she let his absence roll off her back. However, Petty Laugh #3 made her day.

The next day was Game Day. The kids went back to their hotel for some much-needed rest. Ranger and I had another blissfully quiet evening, with pretty lingerie and soft touches, and lots of passion.

Passion that was sometimes interrupted by Texas Tech Red Raider fans. All night, from the riverwalk 20 stories below, we heard choruses of "RAI-DER!" answered with a matching chorus of "POW-ER!" All night. "RAI-DER! POW-ER!" I had to laugh. Ranger was dumbfounded.

I knew I wouldn't see Daughter on game day. We texted a lot. I'd see her through the lense of my camera, as she marched on the field. Could I be more proud? No way. I was about to burst as it was.

Daughter had three hours of free time at her hotel that afternoon. Her dad had claimed the time to visit with her. I agreed to just stay out of the way.

About an hour into that free time, my ex calls me to ask my son's t-shirt size. "Where are you?" I said.

"At the alumni stuff Tech set up," he said.

The alumni stuff was next door to my hotel. A long way from where Daughter was having her free time.

"Aren't you supposed to be visiting Daughter?" I asked.

"Oh yeah," he said. "I'll go over there in a bit."

Okay, so he kicked and screamed about having time with her. When he gets it, he's not there. How disappointing, but how typical. I checked on Daughter. She was fine. She's learned about her dad too well.

Ranger and I rode the shuttle bus to the game. We were the first fans on. Next stop, a few more red-and-black fans. Next stop, three green-and-white fans. Then, we pulled up to a loaded bus stop.

"Better like your seats," the driver said. "We're about to load this bus."

He looked at the waiting crowd. A sea of red. "You folks wearing green, good luck." We laughed.

When game time arrived, I was getting goosebumps. I'd forgotten the fever-pitch of a Red Raider game. Raider Red strutting the field, his guns loaded up with charges, like mini-cannons. Saddle Tramps lined up to greet the entering team. (Saddle Tramps are a fraternity, dressed in red shirts, black jeans, and toting cow bells with long wooden handles). And my favorite -- the Masked Rider (seen to the right), dressed as a matador in black and red, on her black horse. At home games, they have a track around the field that the horse gallops around, when touchdowns are made.

The BOOM of Raider Red's guns goes off. The Masked Rider holds the reins in her teeth, puts her hands up in the "guns up" sign, and lets the adrenaline-pumped horse loose. She gallops across the field, cape streaming behind, as the football players take the field. Saddle Tramps' bells fill the air and the Goin' Band from Raider Land blasts into the fight song, the crowd on its feet, singing along. Guns up.

Here's a little video I took. Disclaimer: I was having focus issues with the camera AND I was in the nosebleed section. Also, you'll notice the players making a somber march to the opposite end of the field. This is so they can take a knee and have a prayer. Yes, Texas Tech is in the Bible Belt!

And yet another video, if you click here. It's the Saddle Tramps in action, doing their traditional routine with their bells before kick-off. The crowd goes nuts for this. I have to say, the sense of tradition at Texas Tech is very strong, and something that comes with a lot of pride.

I get goosebumps. Ranger was kinda blown away by it, too. That, and all the tortillas flying onto the field. Nope, dear, I wasn't kidding!

The only thing that marred the experience was the behavior of the Tech fans during halftime. I never figured out what they were booing at, but it was associated with the controversy happening over the firing of Coach Mike Leach that week. And it happened in the middle of Daughter's time on the field. All those high school kids, performing their hearts out, and the Tech fans start booing at something else in the middle of it. And this one guy was in front of us with his protest sign waving around in the center of my home video of the performance. Great, guys. Good job. Sometimes, being obnoxious is funny. Sometimes, it's not.

I didn't last all the way through the game. Just after halftime, we headed back to the hotel. A small crowd was in the bar area, watching the game. Ranger settled me into a comfy seat there, and we watched the Red Raiders win the Alamo Bowl.

And guess what we heard all night?

"RAI-DER! POW-ER!"

Daughter spent her day packing, going to the zoo, and going to Six Flags.

Our flight left the next night, at 11:00 PM. The hotel gave me the latest checkout time possible, so we left behind our comfy little love nest at 5:00 and found a good dinner for our last evening in San Antonio. At 9:00, we met the group at the airport, got checked in, and started the journey home.

At the airport, I spotted Daughter, holding a stuffed zebra and wearing a pink Supergirl cape. What a kid.

Ranger and I were quiet. We'd had five days of bliss, away from all the cares and worries back home. We had reveled in each other's company, and in being oh-so-proud of Daughter.

I had new, pleasant memories of San Antonio. I needed them. Before, it was still the place where I'd had my honeymoon. Bittersweet. New memories made the place sweet again.

Some wounds are healing. Not healed, but getting there. There's still words that I have to force myself to not think about, or it just reopens things. I'm still working at it a little at a time, and he is, too.

Working through it all, little by little

We were in the car, talking. Ranger had taken my face in his hands and was sweetly telling me how he feels about me. A love from the depths of his soul. More than list itself. I started to cry.

"What's wrong?" he said.

"I have to ask you something," I said. "But I hate to spoil the moment. I just need an answer to this."

"What's that?"

"If you feel so much for me...if you feel it so deeply...how could you turn to someone else?"

He was quiet for a moment. I'd caught him off-guard.

"I need to know that," I said. "To understand how this isn't going to happen again, like you promise."

"I've actually thought about this a lot," he said, finally. "How I could have done this to you. I think it comes from guilt I was feeling. I mean, there you were, hurting. I couldn't do anything about that. You could barely make it back and forth from the bathroom...and you know what I was thinking? I was thinking how beautiful you are to me and how I wanted to wrap you up in my arms and show you how much I love you."

He paused. "You're hurting, and I just kept thinking of how much I wanted to make love to you. I felt so selfish."

"Why didn't you tell me that?" I asked. "You know I want to hear what you think. I don't judge the things you say and feel like that."

He paused again. "The thing is, I think of you like that all the time. I fantasize about you all the time." He looked at me, finally. "But I don't want to share all of that and have you think that's all I want. I don't want you to think I look at you as just a sexual thing."

"I've just kept all that in," he said. "I didn't want you to feel disrespected. I think the guilt I had pushed me over the edge. I had to express this stuff somehow, and you were in pain. So, she came on to me, and I let some of those feelings for you get transferred."

"So, you actually have feelings for her?"

"No! No, not anymore. It wasn't real, you know? It was you I wanted and not that. I let myself get confused. Never again. No one can be like you, in any way. You're amazing to me, in all that you do. I'm not willing to risk losing that, ever again. There's no one like you. I do love you so much, and nothing is worth losing you."

He paused again and said quietly. "I told her that. I told her she's not worth it. She's not worth risking losing you."

That actually says a lot. He had to have known that saying such a thing might be hurtful. He doesn't like hurting anyone's feelings. It must have been some conversation to push him to say that to her.

"My heart can't belong to anyone but you," he said. "And I intend on spending the rest of my life proving that to you. I want you to believe in me again, to believe in us again."

"I want to," I said, but the tears were coming again. "I just don't know how to compete with a 23-year-old. How do I know you won't get confused again?"

He was holding my face again, wiping the tears off my cheeks. "I'll be sure of that. You'll know that I'm focused on you. Always. There is no comparison. No competition. No one is like you. Sometimes, I just like watching you do anything. You have a grace to you, the way you carry yourself. I've thought that since the day we met."

I wanted to make something clear. "You're telling me a lot of things I didn't know you thought," I said. "Why are you holding back from me?"

"It's what I've learned to do," he said. "Before you, I had to be careful what I shared. My ex-wife thought that everything I said had an ulterior motive. She didn't like her body, so she didn't want to hear any sexual thoughts I had. So, I've been scared that I'd make you feel that's all I wanted and all I saw in you."

"Honey, you can say all of those things to me," I said. "I enjoy knowing all your thoughts about me. If you say the sexual and the non-sexual, and then we know it's balanced. Right?"

"So, you don't mind hearing all my little fantasies?"

I laughed. "Uhm...no. I'm the one who wanted to read erotic literature with you, remember?"

He laughed. "Oh, yeah. I forgot that. I just need to express some emotions physically. That's ok?"

It is. And he hasn't held back since. I have to say, the man has a colorful imagination. But so do I. So that works out.

'Tis the season

I can't drive yet, so I've really relied on Ranger to do the driving for me. This has allowed us some time alone, away from my three-ring-circus household. It's hard to go through what I'm going through...what we're going through...when every wall at home has ears. My niece is a nosy child, so that doesn't help.

Christmas shopping has been our excuse for escaping the madness. Going from one madness to another. But it did give me a good moment of laughter that I sorely needed.

It was in the bathroom at Walmart. The place was insane with little children. I let those people go first. Not because I was being particularly generous; I just didn't want the little ones on the loose peeking under the bathroom door at me.

The circus left, and the place quieted a bit. Enter a woman with a baby, headed to the changing table. She was singing to the tune of "O Christmas Tree." Not surprising -- I had the tune stuck in my head because of a holiday display they had that played this song over and over.

So, she was belting it out, singing to the baby. Her words to the tune were:

"O smelly butt! Oh smelly butt! Whatever are they feeding you!"

It still cracks me up. Get your holiday cheer where you can find it!

On a side note, Ranger did something interesting for me for Christmas. First, he gave me something very thoughtful and useful. I tend to have very cold feet. So, he gave me something to help, "for those times when I'm not there to warm them for you," he said. Microwaveable booties. Oh yes! No more frozen toes.

Then, he gave me the sweetest card. It said so much that we've said to each other. In it was a note. He's bought a URL for me to start making and selling bra purses online. He has programmed all of the storefront functionality for me. All I have to do is make them, take pictures, and put them on the site. An unusual gift, but one I think was thoughtful.

Peace and joy, everyone!

Promises and proof

Ranger called me when he woke up this morning. Fridays have been our "date night," so we talked about what to do and when. And he thanked me for the millionth time for an early Christmas gift.

I gave him a standing heater. Sounds a little utilitarian, right? But you have to realize that the house he lives in has one heat source. A woodburning stove. He's keeping his door closed and locked now, though, so that the woman who has been involved in our troubles will stay away. So, he doesn't get as much heat in his room.

During the warmest part of the day, his room is 42 degrees. When he wakes in the morning, he can see his breath in the air. Despite the hurt I'm experiencing, I couldn't stand to see him suffering like that. And the sentiment meant the world to him.

And we talked about us.

See, I have questions, concerns, thoughts. He's open to them, which is different. With Old BF's infidelity, if I had something to say after the initial argument, he got furious with me. Ranger doesn't. He knows I'm trying to work through this and how I think. He also knows I'm not trying to beat him up with my questions. There's just things I need to understand.

One of the things we talked about yesterday was pretty intense. That message I saw had sentiments and scenarios in it that I thought were just for me, from him. I thought he thought of only me in those ways and in those "fantasies." I'm having a lot of trouble understanding how all of that became so...."fill in the blank." And I feel like just another blank now.

"When you touch me now," I said. "How do I know it's how you want to touch just me? When you say it's good to lay with me, how do I know it's how you feel with me? Or could it be just anyone?" I was crying, as I do a lot lately.

"It was all so special to me," I added. "And it wasn't."

"It was," he said.

"Then how could it be given to anyone else?"

"I know it feels that way. I just ask that you give me time to show you, prove it to you. Let me have a chance to undo this. Please?"

Our conversation this morning was not as intense as that. However, about 10 minutes after we hung up, he called back.

"I've been getting ready to get my work done here," he said. "But my thoughts are so on you. I can't stop thinking about something since yesterday. And I have to tell you...."

His voice was breaking. I could hear the tears behind it. He paused to compose himself. Then, he said, through the tears:

"Baby, I want to be everything to you. I want to fulfill everything for you. And only for you. You are so beautiful. Inside and out. You are so wonderful to me. You are everything I've ever dreamed of, and I want to be everything you've ever dreamed of. I don't ever want you to hurt again. I will never, ever do anything to cause you pain again. I will never, ever do anything to risk you and what we have again. It's not worth it. YOU mean too much to me. Just give me time to show you and prove it to you. I swear I will."

Now, we're both in tears.

I need our date night tonight. I need to look in his eyes and see in them what's behind these words. He says that no one has ever looked at him with the love that are in my eyes when I look at him. I need to see and feel that again, too.