I Have a Dream

Martin Luther King, Jr.'s, I Have a Dream, speech is one of the most compelling pieces of writing I've ever read. His vision, strength and conviction drove our nation to change. Yesterday we celebrated the birth of Mr. King in the United States. Since then I have been thinking about dreams.

We all have them, right? Some are big. Some are small. I remember the Wonder Husband looking me straight in the eye a couple of years ago and telling me, "I have a dream. And that dream is to see you driving this car I am going to build just for you. A Grocery Getter. That's what I want to give you."





I almost laughed until I saw the passion in his eyes and heard the truth of his heart in his voice.

Now, you see, at the time I was driving my Mitsubishi 3000GT Twin Turbo Vr4. She's a racy, little, two-seater sports car. Mama likes to drive fast and slam gears. But the problem was that, even though I could lay her back seat down for cargo space, she wasn't really appropriate for a lot of the things I needed to do. Costco runs were a little tight because of the small area. And taking the dogs anywhere was touchy. Not to mention hauling bags of soil and plants home from the nursery.


So, he built me this sleeper of a Chevelle station wagon. No one would expect this old lady in a station wagon to beat them off the line. She has a big motor that satisfies my inner speed demon. Her Flowmaster mufflers growl like a big dog. She is also the perfect mate to the Wonder Husband's El Camino and Buick Skylark. And, I have to admit, that she wonderfully fills the bill for doing household errands. There is a part of me that knows that the Wonder Husband probably felt using the Mitsubishi for schlepping was an act of automotive desecration. Every thing unto heaven has a purpose, and that was not hers.

But the moment he told me his dream I thought, we are so different. My dream is for world peace and unity, food for the hungry, access to affordable health care, bringing love to humanity, the ability to travel at the speed of light and warp through dimensions of time and space. And he dreams of building cars for me.


Who am I to trample a man's dream. Life would be empty and uninspired without them. Build away, Wonder Hubby. Build away.

What are your dreams?

In the Mood

I've been in the mood lately. A very domestic mood. But, don't tell the Wonder Husband. I really like him thinking that it's not my A-game. A woman is not as interesting as when she veils herself in a little mystery. Some women hide their shopping addictions, proclivities for ecstatic substances or sexual fantasies. Me? I hide my Martha Stewart moments.

I go in and out of domesticity like most people go in and out of bad moods. Don't get me wrong, after over 30 years of marriage, the Wonder Husband knows that I'm adept at making home and hearth. I just don't want him expecting it on a regular basis. Fix dinner? Not tonight, honey...I have a headache.

The truth is that there are times I really enjoy a good house cleaning rout or a day long, cooking extravaganza. But, just as often, I enjoy getting out in the world and knocking down some mega bucks. Or being the accountant and bookkeeper for both of our businesses. Or spending the day writing and living in a fantasy world of my making. Or maybe I need to get a massage, a pedicure, my hair done and an eye brow wax. I'm learning that a good brow shaping and the plucking of a few rebellious, downward growing, brow hairs can erase years. So it is with domesticity. After all, I am in my maintenance years and need to gain every advantage I can in every area I can.

I think it's good for a woman to keep herself from getting pigeon-holed into any particular role. I mean, I've been studying men for years and they are quixotic and hard to pin down. And now I know why. It can definitely be an advantage to the game of love. As a young wife, I was eager to be seen as a good home maker. I grew up in a generation that was infected with the tainted archetype of Donna Reed, the perfect wife. As a seasoned wife, I'm inoculating myself against that virus. No longer craving adulations for my culinary and domestic coups, I prefer to bask in anonymity.

So, that's why I'm sitting here seriously considering buying some take out containers and using them to present this beautiful meal I've prepared. Shh, mums the word. There'll be no tattling to the Wonder Husband about my tasty, little deception. Thankfully, he only sneaks over and reads my blog once in a while. Oh, yeah, and I can always tell he's been here by the little words he lets slip. He has his secrets, I have mine.

Quickie

Gravel crunching under the tires of his '67 Buick Skylark GS, the Wonder Husband rolls up the driveway. With the sapphire metal flakes of the paint sparking in the low angled sun, he silences the rumble of his powerfully muscled motor. This is not his normal routine. He usually gets home from work two hours late instead of early.

His face is set with a sly grin. A come hither statement shines from his eyes. Taking my hand, he pulls me to him. A quick kiss. A whispered sentiment laid softly in my ear.

"We just have time for a quickie."

"Are you sure?"

"YES! Let's go."

Hand-in-hand, we gently let the door close behind us...

He heads for the tool shed and I head for the green waste container. He, swift and strong, goes ahead and lops the tree branches. I follow behind as clean up crew.

"Husband, do you know what today is?"

"The day after my brother's birthday?"

"Uh, no. This is two days after your brother's birthday. And you'd better call him tonight since you obviously haven't! No, it was one year ago today you were in the hospital having your heart attack. This is your one year anniversary and look how far you've come!"

I look away as a painful shudder passes over him and a remembrance, dark and deep, clouds his eyes.

"Oh. This is a much better place to be," he says quietly with a far away voice.

In no time at all, just as darkness threatened an end to our assault, we had our dropped tree limbs stuffed into two containers and wheeled out to the street for pick up. The Wonder Husband was right. We did just have time for a quickie. Now it's time to go inside for a warm and proper anniversary celebration.

It's Not Too Late

Sometimes people make incredible gestures that showcase goodness, humanity and creativity. I just love being a part of serendipitous surprises, as either a giver or receiver. This time, it was my pleasure to receive.

I spied the small, brown mailer packet lying yonder on the coffee table the minute I walked in the back door. With a sense as keen as any critter noting a new object in her territory, I stalked the target. Getting closer, in bold black letters, I read my name. Yippee! It's for me!

The Wonder Husband has an EBay biz, so it seems the booty is always for him. "Take that Wonder Husband!," thinks I. I can see by the way Wonder Husband set it clearly in full view of our thrones that he's curious...and a little yellow too. His is careful about not bringing my attention to the package. He cagily pretends to watch TV while glancing, with his primal, side-eyes, for my reaction. I give him nothin'. He must wait...even if it means I have to squelch my excitement for a bit.

"That's it girl, just keep the conversation casual, keep talking about stuff that makes men's eyes dull and their ears shrivel," whispers my inner siren. I relate my day, my feelings, up coming holiday plans, his honey-do list. Just to add to my amusement, I toss in an imaginary hot flash. With deadly precision, the instant I catch him doing the nod-off-head-bob and picking up the invisible Wife Remote Control, his finger poised on the volume-mute button, I have my way with him.

Swiftly and deftly, I slit the flap of the envelope and tip out its contents. Eureka! There's gold in that there brown mailer. Pirate's gold. A couple of CDs in crystal, plastic cases. Their white play lists are stamped with the logo of that infamous, black pirate, Hammer. From between the CDs, slips this folded letter:



Hello!

First off, please read the final Throwing Hammers blog post if you haven't already. What this is and why you're receiving it will make a hell of a lot more sense that way.

Dang! Final post? I loved that blog. Totally original and thought provoking on every level. Although his blog has run for five years, I only found him 6 months ago. In his last post, among other things, he poses the question, "What does your blog sound like?"



These CDs are filled with songs that "were quoted, referenced, or embedded in this blog at some point." Feel free to pass the music forward if you like - as I said, there are no strings or expectations here. And if you do, and if someone asks you about where it came from, just tell them, "There was this guy who used to write this blog. It didn't always make sense but he seemed to have fun with it. One day he left, but on his way out the door, he made us a mixtape."

Thank you for not just accompanying me on the journey, but helping to shape it and give it direction. I won't say goodbye though. If you're reading this, then I'm pretty sure our paths will cross in the future.


And as I type this, I'm listening to his mix CDs and thinking, "Yep, that sounds like Hammer alright." And across time and space these words float in from the Hammerverse, "If you ask me, there aren't enough pleasant surprises in this world..."

It's not too late! It's not too late to dream up a way to brighten someones day. All it takes is a thought...a smile...an unexpected little somethin'...a song. No, it's not too late at all.