Testing, testing 123

In trying to bring a local community theater back to life and into the digital age I've been researching how to make a QR code to print with our brochures. This is a test of the first one I've made.

Scars Fade

As I'm sure you can tell, blogging is not something I am able to do on a consistent basis. I've tried. I've wanted to. But, most times, I just simply have no clue what to write. Apparently, I need inspiration. Something that strikes to the very core of me in order to write about it. Let's face it - I'm not a writer. I'd love to be, but without inspiration, I truly have a block that keeps me from writing anything meaningful. And if I try, it reads as gibberish.

Well, as I'm sure you've assumed by now, inspiration has struck. In a manner of speaking. I know what I'm wanting to write about; I'm just having a difficult time getting the right words down. So, let's just start with this:

There was once a girl, who loved a boy very much. Sadly, she had to say good-bye to him because their love wasn't enough to keep them together. He was her true first love. She had known no greater pain than what was caused by her whole world coming down around her. She thought, surely, there is no coming back from this. The hurt was too great. Her heart was in pieces; one of which he still had. And, she thought, he always would. How, then, could she ever fully heal? Well, as we all know, time truly heals. We tend not to believe so when in the thick of our most difficult trials, but it does all the same. If we take that time, combine it with good friendships and the love of family, then we have a powerful concoction indeed. No hurt can withstand it. Deep enough wounds may leave scars, but scars fade. You'll always remember how the scar came to be, but the pain is no longer present. There is a wonderful, poignant line from the movie Kung Fu Panda 2: "You've got to let go of the stuff from the past – because it just doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is what you choose to be now." How true that is... Not only is that single quote responsible for lifting the seemingly crushing weight and fog of heartbreak, it is also the catalyst for a complete shift in this girl's thinking. Because of that, with the love and support from her family and dear friends, she was able to rise above the hurt and pain... And leave it all behind. Her heart may not yet be whole, but she's ok with that. He meant enough to her he can hold onto a piece - for a little while longer.

Yesterday, I picked up some boxes of mine I had missed in the move out of Don's house. As I was getting ready to put them in my storage unit today, I decided to go through them to see if whatever was in there was even worth keeping. In doing so, I came across a poem I had written a couple of years ago that I had completely forgotten about. As I read over it, I was flooded with an overwhelming feeling of happiness from the memories brought to the surface by these simple words. I wrote them in 2009, just a few short months into the beginning of mine and Don's relationship. Even though we are no longer together, this poem and the subsequent memories really do not bring about the hurt and pain one might expect to experience. Those first months of "Us" was truly the happiest time of my life. How could I not look back on them with fondness? Sure, something deep in me aches when I think of how it all went wrong, but I refuse to let that ruin or taint the memories I have of him and our time together. They deserve more than that. Anyhow, I will share the poem seeing as it is what inspired this post. Enjoy! And thanks for reading.


~Fairytale~

So this is love, they sang
Cinderella and her prince
How funny it really is
They knew nothing of this

"This" is our love
And "This" is our time
"This" is something exceptional
Truly quite fit for rhyme

No words could do justice
To how you make me feel
You are my one true love
My prince with the glass heel

Cinderella's story may only be
One of fairytale lore
But mine has just started
With the man I adore

~Cara Baker '09

One Day

Barnes & Noble sent me an email last week advertising a *cue announcer voice* MEMBERS ONLY ONE DAY 50% off SALE. Now, normally, I ignore these. Not because I'm not a member - I definitely am (can we say Bookworm?) - I just usually don't have the funds to participate in those oh so tempting "One Day Only!!"-but-will-happen-again-in-a-few-weeks sales. However, in this case, I decided to check it out. Not only were hundreds of books 50% off, but a good chunk of them were eligible for their Buy 2, Get the 3rd Free promotion. Seeing as I had about $20 I could spend on myself, I jumped in. And bought me 5 books for just over $15. Oh and the best part? Free express shipping! Ya know, since I'm a member and all. *ahem* Anywho. The whole point of that lead-in story was to get to the true core of this post (the first in 3 months, I know! Sorry!). One of the books I purchased is a (so far) wonderful ditty called "One Day" (now a major motion picture starring Anne Hathaway and Jim Sturgess). It's the story of two friends who meet, go their separate ways, write to each other, meet again, fight, love, go their separate ways, etc. over the course of 20 odd years; essentially a "When Harry Met Sally" for this generation. Well, here's the official "back cover" synopsis. It lays it out better than I can.

"It's 1988 and Dexter Mayhew and Emma Morley have only just met. But after only one day together, they cannot stop thinking about one another. Over twenty years, snapshots of that relationship are revealed on the same day - July 15th - of each year. Dex and Em face squabbles and fights, hopes and missed opportunities, laughter and tears. And as the true meaning of this one crucial day is revealed, they must come to grips with the nature of love and life itself."

Interesting, yes? I thought it was. This much you know considering I bought the book. I had two reasons for that. One reason is because, yes, I liked the premise of the story. The second reason, well, I guess you could call that the "real" reason. It seemed the story of my life with a certain man had been plucked up, written down, then made into a movie. I'm sure I'm not the only one who has felt that way. The book (again, so far; I'm not quite finished) is quite poignant and could be applied to any number of people's lives, I'm sure. And it's not as if the story mirrors mine in every way. It's just rather parallel.

Just as with the book now, I don't know how my life with this certain man (whom we'll call Don because, let's face it, you all know that's who I'm talking about anyway) will end up. He and I have decided we need to take another break. Is it hard? Yes. Is it heartbreaking? Yes. Is it the best decision? Yes... However, I can promise you there will not be a repeat of the previous posts. I'm not revisiting that. Frankly, I have too much to do to allow myself to wallow in grief this time. I'll hold him and what we have in my heart with the hope that, one day, we (and the book) will have our happy ending. One day...

Music

Music is a wonderful thing. It has the capacity to bring out the full scope of human emotion sometimes even with only a single chord. Music has been a rock in my life. It's there when I'm happy, sad, angry or even somewhere in between. No matter what is going on, it's guaranteed that a piece of music will be able to match it perfectly. For the most part, I'm a huge fan of soundtracks. The composers of these works are, in my opinion, our modern day Mozarts and Beethovens. Hans Zimmer, James Horner, John Williams, Steve Jablonsky and several others are true masters of their craft. Anyhow, I can feel myself beginning a tangent and that's precisely what I'd like to avoid with this post. I simply just want to share with you a few songs from a couple of my favorite soundtracks; pieces that never fail to be there for me in the best and hardest of times. Enjoy!







This song is quite possibly the best (certainly the most beautiful and moving) movie theme ever written. I've darn near worn out this track on my copy of the CD because of how many times I have put it on repeat and just listened for hours.



I also have a couple of "non-soundtrack" songs I'd like to share. These speak to my soul and have either helped me through or are currently helping me with moments in my life.

Pretty sure this one is self-explanatory...




Ok one more and then I'm done. It's one I want to share simply because it's a really cool song. Warning: it's addictive!

Is It Just Me

I used to write poetry often. It was always a very cathartic practice for me; just as writing this blog is quickly becoming. Maybe that's the reason 98% of my poems were written during my angsty, turbulent teen years (would that description be a redundancy? or an oxymoron? hmm, curious). As I was getting ready earlier today, the first few lines of a new poem just popped into my head. Not surprising, really, seeing as how today hasn't exactly been easy. So I sat down, worked out the rest of it and am now posting it here for your reading pleasure. Or torture, depending on how you feel about poetry. Heh...here goes:

Do you think of me as I think of you
When memories brush your thoughts
Does a tear slip through
Do you remember my smile as I remember yours
Or ache to hear my laugh as I ache for yours
Is there a void in your heart yearning to be filled
A piece of you gone, damage too deep to be healed

Or is it just me

Did it hurt to watch me walk away
As it hurt me to know I couldn't stay
Do you wonder how it all went wrong
When, together, we've always known we belong
Have you ever reached for me in your sleep
And breathe in my scent the pillow seems to keep

Or is it just me

Will you miss me as I'll miss you
Still love me as I'll love you
Never forget me and what I meant to you

Or is it just me...

~Cara M. Baker~
'11

Toxic Release

Last night, my awesome mother treated me to a massage at the parlor she frequents. It was so relaxing and SO needed. One problem... I woke up today with what I'd have to say is massage hangover. I am so sore, tired and, predominantly, depressed. I know that a massage will release toxins from your muscles, but does that include your heart as well? The last few days I have been doing really well. Better than I thought I ever could be after suffering through one of the most heart-wrenching events of my life (I should have written more on those good days; then maybe this wouldn't be turning out to be the most depressing blog ever... heh). Today, though, I'd have to say I'm at the worst I've felt since... "the event". Is this just coincidence and it was bound to happen? Or did that massage work more out of me than physical discomfort? If it's because of the massage, then I'd like to think this mood will be like the sore muscles: just a by-product of working out some issues that will resolve itself on it's own. I'm not too keen on having to start from square one when it comes to my emotional happy place. Truthfully, the first time around, that happened in the blink of an eye. I think the reason for that was because the strength and inspiration I needed came so unexpectedly that I ended up being more open to it than I'd normally be. I'm not sure that could happen again. I'd like for it to, but if I'm being completely honest with myself, I just don't think it could. Or maybe I'm just reading WAY more into it and this is just a bad day. Probably the most likely reason. When I really think about it, a week and 5 days is not enough time to be "over it". It just isn't. That 12 days may have been the longest and hardest of my life, but it's still only 12 days. And, since we're being honest here, I don't think I'll ever be over it. Moved on? Happy? Really doing "fine"? Yes. But over it? No, I don't think so.

Stream of Consciousness

Consciousness... That's one hell of a word to type. Or say, even. I remember doing this exercise in school. Just write - or type in this case - whatever comes to mind. It doesn't matter if it doesn't even make sense, you're supposed to just let it flow. Hence the term stream of consciousness. Granted, you're also not supposed to use capitalization or even proper grammar, really. It's the nature of the exercise; don't get caught up in the mundane details. Just write. However, I have a REALLY hard time doing that. Not that my grammar is perfect, or anything. I just need structure when I write. Hell, I need it in life. That's quite a new revelation to myself if I'm being completely honest. And if I can't be honest with myself then who? And there - right there - that question brings me to the underlying issue of my life these past months; I have essentially been lied to for quite some time. Not on purpose or even in the actual sense of things being a "lie", but for the simple reason he couldn't even be honest with himself. However, it certainly does not change the fact that I have proverbially been put through the ringer. I know he has, as well, but he's not writing this. I am. And it's my feelings and thoughts that are fueling this exercise. Thoughts and feelings that have got to get out or you all may very well witness the tragic, yet fascinating, crumbling of a normally vivacious and, let's face it, rather awesome human being (not to mention humble... heh). Truthfully, I don't know why I say "you all" when referring to the readers of this post. Who's reading this, really? I've had this blog for two years now and I've managed to post a whole three times before this. Which may lead all none of you to believe that nothing has happened in my life. Oh no, quite on the contrary. My life has been shaken to it's very core. My soul stripped. My heart ripped out of it's once comfortable resting spot and left quivering on the floor where it dropped. Huh... Apparently I'm dramatic even in writing. Not that I'm ashamed of that. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Just making an observation.

The official title of this blog is: Simply Life. I was reminded of this tonight when logging in after being away for almost exactly one year. I remember thinking how clever I was for coming up with that title. Not that it's hugely original (yes, I used "hugely", my blog, deal with it) or anything. It's just that there is nothing simple about life, yet the day to day dynamics tend to be. Especially to people on the outside of your own little world. Which, to me, are the people who would read this public journal of mine. It was, simply, my life. My life with my kids, my family and, predominantly, my life with Don. The great love in that life of mine. Will forever be the great love even if it eventually brought on the aforementioned soul stripping and heartectomy. Nothing simple about that. Yet, somehow, it's still simply life.

I'm not going to get into details. That's not what I'm here to do. My goal is to just vent and hopefully release some of the pressure that has been building for far too long. Maybe, just maybe, it will take some of the hurt and pain with it. I'm not a big fan of the newest residents in the place my heart once called home. I have been told on several occasions since my world fell to pieces to sit down and just write. It's great advice. It took me a few days to get here, but I'm here now. I chose to use my blog not because I want attention or sympathy, but for the simple reason this format actually helps me feel that these pent up feelings are actually being released. They aren't being jotted down on the simple notepad program on my computer or even just a simple notepad. They're being sent out into the world, far, far away from me. I know the words will be here for me to read if I ever wanted to, but the feelings behind them, in theory, will not be. Plus, remember how I mentioned I like structure? Well, this blog is certainly that. And in my weird, strange way that helps make it all feel a little more "real".

I spent two of the best years of my life with the most amazing man. It certainly was a whirlwind romance and we made many mistakes. What couples don't? But, oh, how we were made for each other. We first met at our local community theater. I was 16, he was 30. He was married at the time and, well, I was 16 so, no, that is not when our romance started. However, we did become fast friends. For the next year we worked on several plays together, either on the stage or behind the scenes. He then moved, fell in love and remarried (his first marriage ended a short time after we first met). I also moved and got married. Fast forward nearly 10 years and both of our marriages have ended, we find each other on the social networking giant that is Facebook and the rest is history. It was almost like that decade hadn't passed. That connection was still there, but this time, there was something more. The second I saw him again after all that time, I knew. He was the one for me. The man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. And for the next two years it wasn't perfect, but it was the happiest I'd ever been. So how did we end up here? Of all the couples this could happen to, why did it happen to us? There are many reasons. Many painful reasons we both have contributed to.

Each day is different. There are some mornings I wake up and I'm ok. Others, I have to give myself a pep talk just to get out of bed. Those are the days when I feel as if there is a crushing weight on my chest and all hope has been sucked out of me. I know it will get better. I also know it will take more time. Even now as I write this, I'm listening to music and nearly every song that comes on has some memory attached to him. I refuse to delete my music library so, for now, I'll listen. And cry. My hope is that eventually, one day, I will stop checking my phone first thing in the morning to see if there is a message from him; or waiting for his phone call every weekday at 9am while he's on break; or wanting to tell him about everything that happened in my day... Or aching over the loss of him so much it hurts. But today is not that day.

Mechanics & Women

Have you ever noticed how keeping up with a blog is like trying to write in your journal every day? Of course, that may have something to do with the fact that a blog is simply a journal gone public. Everyone is dying to express their innermost thoughts, feelings and desires to anyone who will listen. And then they throw a fit about privacy and how it’s being “invaded”. Heh, it’s funny to me. Anyhow, I feel myself about to start on a tangent (which I tend to do…often) that has absolutely nothing to do with what this particular post is supposed to be about. Another trademark of blogs, yes? The only reason I opened with that question is because it’s been months since I’ve even attempted to write in my blog. Even though I’ve discovered that I like to write. Really like it, in fact. I still suck at it, but I don’t care. I was the same way when I tried to write in my journal. I’d promise myself I’d write every day. Then it became every week… then every month… … I think you get the idea. So this is my roundabout apology to you, dear readers (all 1 of you), for not keeping up with this thing as I should.

So, this post has nothing to do with tangents (ok, maybe a little) or apologies and everything to do with… Mechanics. To be more specific: mechanics and women. Before you get all excited thinking I’m pitching a new soap opera idea, let me stop you right there. I’m talking about how those lovely men under the hood treat us women. Everyone knows what I’m talking about; even you mechanics out there. I understand that women do not traditionally mess around with cars or know everything there is to know about what makes them work. Most of the time, as long as it runs, we don’t care. And, yes, we’d prefer our husband/dad/brother/cousin/cute-muscley neighbor take care of it, but it does NOT mean we are stupid. What brings this up, you ask? Well, lady and/or gentleman, I’ll tell you.

My van has been having “issues” for… well, quite some time. In fact, my first attempt at writing a post for a blog was taking place while my van was being worked on. In another fact, that problem my van was having that day is the same problem (one of them, anyhow) it’s having now. So I bring my van in seeing as the brake pads they put in last year are still under warranty (by “they” I mean Big O Tires here in Salt Lake City). And how do I know that they are the problem? Did my husband tell me (the first question out of one of the mechanics mouth)? No. I knew because there is that horrible, cringe-inducing squeal every time I even think about touching the brakes. Also, there is a fair amount of that wonderful brake dust coating my front left tire rim in at least three layers of gook. The usual signs, am I right? Anyhow, the guy manning the desk looked me up and down and had this look on his face like “yeah, lady, sure” while I was explaining the problem. He then proceeds to tell me that they’ll take a look, but he’s “pretty sure it’s not the brakes because they just replaced them not even a full year ago and they just don’t go out that quickly”. That may seem pretty benign to you but combine that with his body language and the “look” then you have a recipe for pissing Cara off which, contrary to popular opinion, is just really not that hard to do anymore. Ok ok, it is, but I really try not to. Honest! Anywho… So they take the van back and I open my laptop and start working on this blog (rant, rave, whatever) to help kill time. I had a head full of steam and I had to blow it off somehow.

About 45 minutes later, a different guy comes out and tells me that sure enough, it’s the brakes. I was so proud of myself and silently gloating that it took me a moment to realize he was still talking; telling me that the brakes were the least of my worries. He proceeded to lay out this list of work that needed to be done right away or I would essentially die in some horrible, fiery crash. Oh, and it was going to cost me $900. Normally, this would make me raise an eyebrow and say “yeah, sure”, but this guy was actually talking to me like a person. Not an inept female. And everything he was telling me was exactly what my van had been doing for months. So, suffice it to say, his treatment of me and the fact I had to come up with $900 in order to drive my van again completely took the wind out of my sails. Which, in turn, completely derails the original purpose of this post.

Cliff would be this mechanic’s name and I can’t thank him enough for being so helpful and honest and decent. Did I mention he also knocked the final bill down to $800 without me even asking? Great guy. He’s helped keep my hope alive that not all mechanics suck. And chivalry isn’t dead. Thanks, Cliff. The van runs great!

Wordeology

Have you ever found yourself trying to describe something and you just can't spit the stupid word out? You know the word but it's being an elusive bugger and, no doubt, laughing at you from some unused corner of your brain. Here's a prime example: one day I was talking to a friend of mine about not being able to get a hold of a mutual friend of ours. All I was trying to say was how unreachable she was. But for some reason that damn word just wouldn't come to me. Yes "unreachable". A pretty simple word. One we use often. Maybe that's why... It needed a vacation. Well, instead of looking for it and deciding to let it enjoy it's moment of snickering in that far off corner, I made up my own word. So the course of the sentence to my friend went something like this: "I've been trying to reach her all day. She's positively un-get-a-hold-of-able". Oh yes, you read that right. Ungetaholdofable. I hung up with her laughter still ringing in my ear. That word along with quite a few others (which, funnily enough, I can't think of at the moment... It's a conspiracy!) belongs to a special form of grammar my friends and I lovingly call: Wordeology.

Wordeology is the junk drawer of the english language. A free-for-all for anyone to pick and choose what they need for a given grammatical situation. Can't think of that word you know you know? Wordeology is there. Want to spice up a stale conversation? Wordeology to the rescue! Happen to spit out a completely unintelligible word while talking? Never fear. You did that on purpose for you have a PhD in Wordeology.

The formula for wordeology is astonishingly simple. Add "dis", "able", "un", "ify", "ism", or anything else you can think of to any word and you're good to go! Extra points if you use more than one (you know, like UNgetaholdofABLE). George W. Bush was a master of this. Everyone called them "Bushisms", but when you think about it that is a wordeological word in and of itself. However, he does NOT have a PhD (notice I said "master" which we all know comes before that coveted doctorate). See, he wasn't using his words as a last resort. He actually believed that were they grammatically correct, therefore disqualifying him for the title of "Doctor".

Now, there is another formula for this giggle-inducing, wacky grammar. And, again, it's very simple. It's simply...make up your own words. Now I know we all do that. It's nothing new. It's the creativity behind the word that makes it wordeology worthy. For example: hideuglius. That's a word my best friend came up with to describe an encounter with what he believed to be a truly ugly situation. It just could not possibly be described with the words hideous or ugly. So, as all wordeology elite do, he came up with his own word and combined the two.

Seeing as my brain has shut off for the night and I'm having trouble thinking of more words, I'm going to leave the rest up to you, dear readers, and call it a night. Happy hunting, my friends. Until we meet again.

Giving It A Shot

I cannot begin to count how many times I’ve been told I need to write. Write my story, share my thoughts, even if only to myself, write down my goals in life, write a book, yadda yadda. Or as one of my all-time favorite actors, Yul Brenner, famously said: “..etcetera etcetera”. For those of you thinking to yourself: “huh?”, that would be from The King & I starring Yul and the always wonderful Deborah Kerr. One of the few Rodgers & Hammerstein musicals that , not only can I watch without needing a puke bowl nearby for relief from the inevitable effects of their over-the-top, campy, eye-roll inducing songwriting, but actually love with a deep, nostalgic passion. Oh, trust me, the songwriting is just as cheesy as any of their other works and there are a number of songs where I’d rather stab ice picks into my eardrums than listen to. Which, I’m sure, makes you think “you’ve thought of suffering through a very painful, self-inflicted deafening, yet you LOVE this movie?” Yes, yes I do. The reason, pure and simple, is the talented, nay captivating, Yul Brenner. But, I digress.

The reason I have never actually followed the advice and, occasionally, outright demands from those I know and love isn’t because of my innate rebelliousness (honest!). Nor is it because of a shortage of things to write about. It’s simply because I cannot write. I have hundreds upon hundreds of ideas, thoughts and stories floating around in my better than average sized brain (Ha! Almost kept a straight face on that one!). It’s getting them down on paper in a cohesive, readable manner that always proves to be a problem. In fact, these two paragraphs have taken me well over 30 minutes to jot down. Yeah, I’m not kidding. It’s like my brain gets ahead of my hands. They just simply can’t keep up with my over-active thought process. I hear it in my head and it’s awesome! It even makes me chuckle to myself quite often. I get funny looks from strangers. Hell, even the people who know me look at me like “wtf?” more often than I care to admit. But I don’t care. I’m entertained. And… it took me another 15 minutes just to spit those last three sentences out. See? Even when I’m trying to describe my brain getting ahead of itself as the reason I can’t write, it goes and gets ahead of itself! (A-head of itself… oh that’s funny! Bring on the weird looks.) Why do I struggle? I have issues, that’s why!

So I’ve now hijacked the laptop for as long as she’ll allow me to. Which means of course I may get two or three sentences and then she’ll decide that it’s her turn again which will royally piss me off but since it’s her laptop and her document for that matter I can hardly complain, much less get majestically irritated… BREATHE!

Ok, so the only reason I started typing here is because I’m sitting in Grounds for Coffee next to the love of my life, and whiling away the hours while her van gets fixed. I can scarce conceive of a better way to spend a Saturday afternoon. There is no pressure to go anywhere, since our transportation is kaput, as the kiddies say, and no need to do anything but just BE. Here and now. In the moment. Life is full of these unexpectedly eclectically romantic moments and I am eternally grateful.

She’s just gone up to the barista to ask why the advertised “free wireless internet” isn’t working, which means that I only have a few moments remaining of adding my stream-of-consciousness attempt at silly humor to this.

But I know that you will save this and read it from time to time, so burn these words into that fine and creative mind of yours: WRITE! Please? Your spoken words captivate me. Your written words have done as much, and methinks it quite possible that if thou wouldst only investify (that was what a call Shakespeare-Bush wordeology) a measure of time each day to reduce thy humorous rantings and ramblings to printed page the world would be a better place, sort of like MY world has become a better place.

I love thee Cara Marie.

So, that would be Don. My forever love. I let him read what I wrote (considering he is the primary inspiration behind this little exercise) and he steals my laptop! The audacity! He’s lucky I love him. Actually… I think it’s funny that he thinks he’s the lucky one. That’s MY title. I mean, hello?? Did you read what he wrote? How could I possibly think I wasn’t the luckiest person alive?
He couldn’t be more right how wonderful this Saturday afternoon is. Who knew sitting for hours on end waiting for a vehicle to be fixed, knowing it’s going to put a dent in the pocketbook, could be so downright fulfilling? I’ve never been so content in my life. It’s happiness. Pure happiness. I can say without a shred of doubt that I have never known the true meaning of that word. Not to its fullest extent. That’s not to say I haven’t had wonderful or even miraculous moments. I have two beautiful children. What kind of mother would I be if I believed that was anything less than miraculous? But true happiness? No, I have not been acquainted with that until very recently. See, happiness is more than just “moments” and, contrary to popular theory, it’s not a state of mind. It’s a state of being. Just being. It’s when you can sit in a coffee shop where the advertised WIFI won’t work, after getting up at 5am to prepare for a yard sale with only a few hours of sleep under your belt because you were up late into the night cleaning out a garage (hence the yard sale), then sitting for hours on your front lawn actually doing the yard sale, then driving down 3300 South in Salt Lake City scared out of your mind that your vehicle will quit on you any second on your way to the shop, then sitting for a couple of hours in said coffee shop and just… be. It’s also when you get the phone call informing you your vehicle is ready just as you’ve figured out the reason for the non-connectivity of aforementioned WIFI was simply because the wireless capability was turned off on your laptop and you can just shake your head and laugh. It’s having your soulmate at your side laughing at him nearly knocking over a table simply by placing his phone on it. It’s the little things that make you go “mmmm”. That’s peace. That’s contentment. That’s love. And all that, my friends, is happiness.

And that dear readers, is all the proof you should ever need that a) Cara CAN write, and b) Don is indeed the lucky one. I need say no more.