You are my heart, my soul, my spirit, my everything.
My BFF, my forever love, my forever everything.
My FB tag for 98% of my posts.
After all these 31 years, you’re an honest and true keeper.
And I’m your knight in shining armor.
Always . . .
She’s so many things to me and our 3 girls . . .
She’s our best friend.
She’s the shoulder we lean/cry on.
She’s our alarm clock on mornings that we don’t want to get up, on Her we rely on (and mostly bitch at)
She’s the shine in all of our days.
She’s the heart that we’ll never give away.
She’s funny, she’s kind, but she’s technologically super blind . . .
She’s there when we need her, she’s there when we need, and we’ll always need her. She’s our lady.
Happy Birthday to our best friend/confidante/psychologist/ psychiatrist/ and SO much more.
We love you and we want you around forever.
Have an awesome 39th birthday.
See you for Hibachi on Saturday night.
Mucho Sake for the birthday girl!
But open wide for the veggies!
And watch out for the volcano!!!!!!
Downtime for Mikey.
I’ll be by the sea listening to the surf, smoking a cigar, looking at the world through my uber dark sunglasses.
No cares, ‘cept for the cooking of some tasty morsels of the sea for our dinner.
Out of here with my lady, my cigars and my music in tow.
Time to put my toes in the sand for a bit.
Wish you were her . . . (old joke)
Sometimes you find a penny, heads up and you feel lucky
Sometimes you wake up to find the sun shining instead of rain and you feel happy
Sometimes you get lucky enough to find a Valentine that you end up spending the rest of your life with
And sometimes you’re lucky enough that she ends up finding you too and you feel blessed.
And some nights you find yourself falling asleep next to your very best friend.
If you’re lucky enough it happens every night.
And I am lucky enough.
How about that?
We ain’t got a barrel of money but we got something much better.
We got us.
Happy Valentine’s Day to the only one that can still melt my chocolate . . .
This coming Wednesday is a very special day.
30 years ago on November 6, 1983, I married my best friend.
In this day and age of disposable marriages and engagements, I’ve come to realize just how blessed I am, we are.
That’s not to say it’s been a bed of roses for all those years either.
But I never knew that I could fall in love with someone so deeply that I could never see myself falling out of that love.
My best friend IS that love.
And that love has a name.
In good times and in bad?
In sickness and in health?
To love and honor for the rest of our lives?
My blog has ‘our’ story pasted all over it so I won’t even begin to tell you how
I fell in love the night I first saw her; in the dark space of a smoky nightclub, I just knew.
Her hair, her clothes, the way she carried herself, her scent, her smile.
Ah yes, her sweet smile, always her smile.
Imagine my surprise when I actually saw those green eyes in the daylight.
I was like a piece of frozen butter thrown on a hot tin roof.
I still say God had His hand in this.
I can’t imagine life without her; without her grace, her beauty, her patience, compassion, mercy and most of all her unfaltering love.
She is my everything.
Who else would I cook Beef Stroganoff or my special Baked Scallops for?
Who else would be the ultimate inspiration in my music and my writing?
And who would be there to hold me up when all my walls came tumbling down?
(Not many people were looking for that gig.)
Through thick and thin she has been there.
I could never ask for more.
For Pamela:You will forever haunt my heart,
a subtle whisper in the night, a silent look that says all I want to say
shadows of days to come, hours to love, minutes to say a few . . .
prayers of the heart, through a pulse, the wiping of a teardrop, a moment in time that . . .
silently falls into a warm and safe place where two souls meet and embrace forever, for eternity, for love.
Our shadows are the same, our love; endless, our blessings; many . . .
We are forever One.
Haunt my heart forever more . . . for all eternity
Happy 30th Anniversary to my beautiful wife with the viridescent eyes . . .
I LOVE YOU.
Always . . .
Not really sure where this thing is going but I know that in the end I will probably piss someone off and that is not my intention at all.
There’s just something I feel the need to talk about and my blog is the best damn place to do it.
Because I own the joint.
Being happily married for almost 30 years you get to know every little thing about your partner.
By partner, I mean ‘the Love of your Life’.
Many guys will laugh at that statement but I will stand behind it every step of the way.
No surprise to the readers here that I love my wife unconditionally.
Always have, always will.
Knowing how they like their tea, their steak done, their burgers done, their bed made and their shoulders rubbed, you just know how they like it.
You don’t ask, you just do.
Biologically, they change through the years (as do us guys) and you have to be a sport, a team player.
But sometimes the games get rough though.
I have never been able to figure out why they call it ‘Menopause’.
1872, from Fr. ménopause, from Gk. men (gen. menos) “month” + pausis “a cessation, a pause,” from pauein “to cause to cease.” Opposite of menarche “onset of menstruation,” 1900, from Ger. (1895), from Gk. arkhe “beginning.”
There’s MENopause, MENstration, MENtal Illness and so on.
How about WOMapause, WOMstration and WOMal Illness?
1am this morning the blanket and sheet covering me were violently ripped off.
Okay, I get it, the AC is blasting and she was cold.
I’m fine with that.
I was shivering my ass off until I could grab enough of the blanket and comforter to get warm and back to sleep.
2am, the blankets and comforter are shoved over suffocating me while she lays there uncovered.
This happens on a nightly basis and I’m fine with that but really?
I understand on a biological and physiological basis why it happens but I still wonder what the hell?
Damn you, you hormonal hungry bastard!
Several years ago me and Pam went for an autumn drive through southern New Hampshire to view the foliage.
Some nice Jazz was playing on the radio and the heat was on low with the outside temps in the mid to upper 50’s.
Suddenly, the windows were opened, the heat was shut off and I couldn’t hear the music.
“What’s up? You okay?” I asked.
“Hot flash, sorry.” She said.
The phrase, “Hot Flash, sorry!” should be a bumper sticker requirement for any woman beyond the age of 50.
I don’t say that in a nasty way just as a reminder for the younger folks driving behind you with no clue as to where you’re going.
[Insane. Wanna come along?]
It could explain a lot.
The rest of the ride was basically, AC on, AC off, Heat on, Heat off, windows open, windows closed, ad nauseum.
Do I feel for you women thrashing through this tumultuous time in your life?
Please believe that I do.
Should this thing should ever come full circle, know that us guys would rather rip our genitalia off.
If that’s what it takes . . .
Is it me or is it all of a sudden hot in here?
[with sincere apologies to my wife for me talking about this. It is fascinating. And yeah, I’m losing my blankie tonight]
[fair dinkum, as they say in Australia]
I watch ‘Dancing with the Stars’.
There. I said it.
American Idol? Nope.
The Voice? Nada.
The Bachelor? Puuuhleeesse. I have standards.
The Kardashians? They need to find a new planet to inhabit. Soon. And hopefully don’t pro-create.
The Biggest Loser? Whoever watches this stoopid show.
If you need a power tool to get your fat ass out of a chair . . . just sayin’
The Amazing Race? I personally know Max of ‘Max and Katie’ and I have never once watched the show.
It’s not that I don’t like Max, it’s that I don’t watch much TV.
New England Patriots.
It’s a short list.
My list could go on but I will spare you.
Get my drift?
DWTS came on tonight and my wife drew me into the living room in the only way she knew she could.
“Come here! Michael! Come here! Kellie Pickler is on! You have to at least watch her.”
My wife is telling me to watch a hot, sexy, gorgeous blonde that is half my age.
Did I like it?
What do you think?
Pickler has pickled my pickle since American Idol.
Okay, yeah, I watched some AI.
I feel dirty.
It does make me smile when Pamela makes me watch a bit of a show as I did tonight.
What kind of wife does that?
I think she also knows that her face is much prettier than 1,000 Kellie Picklers.
It’s not only her face but it’s her unfailing heart and soul.
I love ya, Kellie Pickler but Pamela owns my heart.
And that, my friends is the end/beginning of the story . . .
Can’t wait to see what KP will be wearing next week.
I’m sure Pamela will tell me . . .
The first time ever I saw your face, I was in the middle of singing a song at Finian’s Rainbow Room when you came walking in.
My heart skipped a beat and that was even before I saw you face to face.
I remember not even acknowledging you that night because you were quite simply out of my league.
What does a beautiful woman like this want anything to do with me?
I remember trading quick glances and smiles with you but still felt that it was just a casual thing.
I remember the way you dressed, smart but casual with attention to detail.
You were quite simply, awesome.
I sat with Billy and made small talk but stole a look at you every single chance that I got.
I couldn’t get enough of you that night.
I went back up to play another set and basically sang every song for you.
I don’t know if you knew that, but I did.
I was singing for you.
You would come in every Friday night with all the folks from SO and my heart would jump when I saw you.
But one Friday night, no one came in, I felt like someone let the wind out of my sails because my inspiration was missing.
Sometime during my last set, I was going through the motions when I saw you walk in.
My world changed in that one moment.
And I’m pretty sure I cut the set short.
I knew then that you were my love, my one and only love.
These days, I see your beauty in so many things,
from the autumnal colours of the mountains of North Conway to the absolute and granite-solid love for our three beautiful girls.
The first time ever I saw your face, I fell in love with you.
And I am still in love.
Your amazing green eyes deserve post of their own.
Happy Valentine’s Day to the one I could never live without.
You still melt my chocolate heart.
See you at Zorba’s . . .
If I could write an amazing Christmas instrumental for my wife,
it would go something like this.
A complex Vince Gueraldi kind of song, if you will.
Almost as beautiful as she is . . .
If you’re lucky enough, there’s a person in your life that makes everything easier;
they hurt when you hurt, they cry when you cry, they laugh when you laugh.
If you’re lucky enough, there’s a person whose soul sees what you see,
understands, accepts and agrees to the crazy thoughts and ideas that you hold dear and true.
Even though you’re still totally nuts0.
If you’re lucky enough,
there’s a person in your life that you just can’t live without because they make you see
the good and bad that resides in your heart changing you for the better, always for the better.
If you’re lucky enough, there’s a person in your life that never gives up on you,
never gives up on your dreams and never stops loving you no matter how much you screw up.
And I screw up on a daily basis.
And finally, if you’re really lucky enough, there’s a person in your life that never let’s you down,
is always there when you need a hug and never let’s you forget that you are so loved,
no matter how much of a creative screwball you really are.
I am one of the lucky ones.
Jingle my bells.
I think . . .