Weather and Marriage

 This morning I jauntily set off on my run. The weather app showed cloudy skies and nothing to worry about until high winds around 1 p.m. The temperature was 7 C, that's about 44 Fahrenheit. As I ran my 5K, I stopped and shot a picture of a rainbow. What luck!

When I turned back toward home, the rainbow wasn't visible and the wind began to pick up. Soon the rain joined it. A light misting at first, then it began to pour in earnest. I usually finish my runs with a walk to stretch, but the dire weather convinced me to keep running until the end as hail began to pelt the bill of my Nike cap. 

I made it inside the kitchen, soaked and shivering. 

"Well that was unexpected," I called to Earl as I walked in the house. 

He came to the kitchen and held up my bath towel. "Need this?"

I pulled off my hat and my jacket, handing them to him. I untied my soaked shoes and peeled off my socks so I wouldn't leave wet footprints on the tile floor. 

"Is that it?" Earl asked, gesturing to my shirt and my pants.

"Yeah, I'll hang my pants on the radiator upstairs," I told him. 

He turned to strategically place my wet clothes on the radiator in the kitchen. 

"No show today, folks!" he said to himself.

"You've seen this show plenty of times," I reminded him. 

"Yeah, but it never gets old. That's why I bought season tickets."

Guess I'm pretty lucky after 32 years of marriage. 

Romantic Goodbyes

In spite of the weather warnings, Earl took off on a flight to Orlando this morning and is now somewhere over the Atlantic on his way to Iceland, and hopefully, on to Paris by the time I wake up Sunday morning.
I don't want anyone to get an idealized impression of our marriage. We have a typical marriage that has stretched over  nearly 30 years. We fight about stupid things, about nothing. We yell sometimes or ignore each other out of spite.
As today got closer and we realized we'd be away from each other for over a month, we got kind of sentimental.

A goodbye selfie -- it was the only one good of me even though it wasn't good of Earl. He was turning to kiss me. 

In the afternoon, we stretched out on the couch together and watched a few episodes of Modern Love, a new Netflix series based on the New York Times column of the same name. The love stories don't focus only on traditional romance, but friends, family, quirky love stories.
So I left for work Friday evening with a warm glow.
Early Saturday morning, I got up to use the bathroom then climbed back into bed. Earl curled around me as I announced I had to get up in 8 minutes to teach.
He groaned. "Can't you just lie here with me?" he asked.
His words reminded me of the song "Chasing Cars" by Snow Patrol. Because in 2020, every romance needs a soundtrack, I played the song and before it could finish, my alarm went off.

We kissed goodbye this morning as I left for work and I won't see him for 35 days.
Sometimes, the anticipation of an absence can be the most romantic thing of all.
Hope everyone else has a soundtrack for their weekend.

Wedding Joy

I sat between my mom and my husband, holding hands with both of them as Grace and Jack exchanged vows Saturday evening.

This picture is from the hotel where they prepared

The place was filled with people who love and support both of them, the emotion bubbled over as both of them wiped away tears, pledging themselves to their marriage and each other.

A friend snapped this picture during the ceremony. That's me and Earl in the foreground,
apparently the only evidence the two of us were at the wedding together because I haven't found another picture.

Things weren't perfect. Some people sitting in the back couldn't hear well. I had forgotten the corsages for myself and my mom, along with the boutonnieres for Earl and my dad back in the hotel room. The book arch which was supposed to rise above the happy couple's heads, continuing the book theme of the wedding, did not rise to the occasion and instead was draped in a semi circle on the floor.
But no one fretted about any of those things as Grace and Jack had their two right hands joined together in a hand-fasting ceremony that combined the tartans of both historical families.

We started the day at a downtown hotel where the bridesmaids gathered to get ready. Lots of coffee, some mimosas, one prepared bridesmaid brought sandwiches from subway.

My ever-prepared friend Deb sent a steamer with me to the hotel. Jess, one of the bridesmaids, steamed everyone's dress

A stylist arrived to do hair and makeup for the bridesmaids, and me, but the bride and bridesmaid decided to do hair for the flower girls when they arrived.

Two flower girls getting their hair done by the bride and bridesmaids

My favorite picture of Regan as she realized no one was going
to give her "cat's eye" makeup for the wedding.

We ran out of time at the end and hurried to get everyone ready for pictures while the limo waited impatiently.

Grace getting dressed by the bridesmaids

Earl arrived at the hotel for some pictures as he saw Grace in her wedding gown for the first time.
The limo took all the girls to the venue while Earl and I frantically drove separate vehicles so we could return the minivan Mom and Dad had loaned us for the past month.
Safely inside, I wanted to stop and talk to everyone but had to scurry to finish the tasks Grace had left me with. Two wreaths needed to be placed on tables to finish the centerpieces. And the decorative arch needed to be moved in front of the book balustrade which rested on the floor since it couldn't rise to become an arch.

The book arch still served its purpose on the floor. Each table at the reception had an author theme.

Spencer escorted me in while Tucker did videography. The ceremony was beautiful as they shared their heartfelt sentiment about their love story. 

Pictures followed, then a dance between Grace and Jack, 

I love this picture of the two flower girls and the ring bearer watching the first dance. 

Next came a dance between Grace and Earl, to the theme of the Godfather, which started slow then sped up a bit to a swing dance. 

We surprised Grace with a Ben Folds song called Gracie about watching his daughter grow up. 

Jack and his mom danced next to a song from Into the Woods.
They cut the cake and then dinner followed, with so many wonderful people to greet and so many fabulous songs to dance to.
I chose the DJ after hearing him at our friend Deb's daughter's wedding. I can highly recommend Mark Dantzer if you're getting married in the Columbus area. He kept the dance floor hopping right through the last song "Shut up and Dance With Me."
I didn't get to talk to everyone nearly enough, but I felt the love, and I know Grace did too. Whether you were there or not, the support lifted us.
I'll end with some pictures.
Thanks to everyone for going on this journey with me.

Grace and Tucker

Spence and Tucker with rabbit ears

Grace with some far away cousins. So good to have them all together

Spencer and Kaitlin

Earl and I were there too. 

Grace and Jack with my mom and dad

The Day Before A Wedding

I woke up to rain this morning in the dark, the day before my daughter's wedding.

The forecast is for rain, but I'm not sure that matters when everything will be indoors. The temperature is supposed to be 68 degrees (20 Celcius) which is very rare in Ohio in January.
I try to picture Grace's day. She and Jack are having breakfast together to eschew the tradition of not seeing the bride before the wedding.

Around 11, her bridesmaids will gather in the hotel room and they'll do hair and makeup. I contemplate taking along some bottles of sweet bubbly, would they have a glass to shake nerves or could we end up with tipsy bridesmaids? Bananas and granola bars? A meal?

The limo will pick them up and drive them to the wedding. I can already hear the echos of laughter as they run from the hotel to the limo, hopefully with a helpful doorman holding an umbrella over Grace's head as she holds the sparkly white skirt up to keep it dry.
The flower girls will scramble into the limo, foregoing car seats just this once.

Earl and I will drive together, maybe stressing about things we've forgotten or maybe holding hands as we realize that our little girl will be married within the hour.
All of the planning and the debating will culminate in these few hours, when Grace, who has been on her own for a few years already, joins together with Jack, with our blessing.
It's not the same as it would have been a hundred years ago when a daughter leaves her parents' home for the protection of her husband.
Grace is a strong woman surrounded by examples of strong women. I picture a circle of all the women who have loved her -- me, her aunts, her cousins, her grandmothers, her homeschool moms, her homeschool sisters, her theater mentors, her college and work friends -- all of us together lifting her up as she starts this new life.

She isn't giving up part of herself when she marries. She's adding to her story and following a different path.
One that will take her on many adventures.

The Impending Nuptials

It's a funny thing when your daughter is getting married. People ask if you like the groom.

An early photo shoot with a wolf

I'm not sure if they do that when it's your son, because my sons have not gotten married yet.
But the first question from people when we tell them our daughter is getting married is "What do you think of the groom?"
They ask as if he hasn't already become a part of our family, which he has.
Are there people who dis their daughter's soon-to-be husband?
I fear the answer is yes. 
There are many qualities one could look for in a husband for your daughter -- maybe he could be rich, or have a status job, or be a brainiac. Maybe he could be royalty or be famous. Maybe he could be as beautiful as the morning. Maybe he could be handy and fix our cars or take care of all our IT problems. Jack might have some or none of those qualities as they get married.
But the one quality that Jack has that can't be compromised on is love.
We have no doubt how much he loves Grace.
And, in the end, that is the one quality that cannot be missing in a marriage.

It's Official

Today, after four years of dating, our daughter Grace and her boyfriend Jack made it official. They're engaged.

It's not official til you share it on Facebook.

We're very happy for them. Their love for each other is an inspiration. Neither of them is perfect, but it looks like they found their perfect imperfect partner. And they've weathered some tough times together.

They did a photo shoot with a wolf

They met four years ago in May when they both were in a production of Hamlet. Grace was dating another guy on and off and I was kind of rooting for him. I jokingly called Jack by the wrong name -- Josh -- for awhile, before it became obvious that they were serious.
After a year of dating and some frustration about finding time to see each other, I suggested they just move in together. They are both always involved in acting, usually in different shows, so after work, they'd rehearsal, and they rarely had time to see each other most evenings. At least if you lived together you'd know you would see each other eventually, I said.

After one of Jack's shows

They spent two summers apart while Jack was in a show that required him to live on premises about 90 minutes away from Columbus.

They have traveled together, exploring Scotland, Ireland and England. They visited Jack's family castle in Scotland -- the MacRae Clan and discovered that the castle wall says as long as a MacRae is within, a Fraser will not be without. Our family clan? The Fraser Clan. Perhaps this love story was written in history.

That look.

People always ask if a guy is someone you approve of for your daughter. My standards have always been high. There is one requirement. That he love her with unbounded love. And I think she has found that in Jack.
In fairy tales, a wedding is the end of the story, but we all know that a wedding is really the beginning of a whole new life for the two of them.

12 Days of Appreciation -- Day 6

I'm halfway through my 12 Days of Appreciation countdown. I'm focusing on the reasons that I feel grateful for my husband. I'm not doing this because I think that we have some sort of superior marriage, but in an attempt to remember the important things in the midst of the day-to-day work of life.
Last night, my friend Najah came over. She's single and she gives relationship advice to my 23-year-old daughter. She started talking to Grace about the book The 5 Languages of Love.  Since I've been
married 25 years, it's not a book I'd heard of. The basics are that people need to figure out the main way the give and receive love, and how their partner gives and receives love. The five main ways the author describes are"Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, Receiving Gifts, Acts of Service, and Physical Touch."
As Najah explained them, I realized that my husband's pretty good at most of these (except the gifts which neither of us find important), but the main one I see is "Acts of Service." He'll come in from a day at work and ask if he can get me anything. That's crazy!
"Go relax," he'll tell me. "I'll unload the dishwasher."
And he is the main laundry washer in my house. He might have an ulterior motive since he thinks my laundry skills are inferior, but if he prefers to stay on top of the laundry in the house, I'm happy to accept it.
My husband has learned to steam the milk on the espresso maker so he can make me a latte even though he doesn't drink coffee. He shows me love through his acts of service every day.

12 Days of Appreciation -- Day 3

Some days, when we get caught up in the day-to-day grind of cooking meals, cleaning, working, dealing with children, we forget about the higher qualities of your spouse. We can find ourselves in a negative rut if we aren't careful.
The positive thinking books encourage readers to focus on the good, to be grateful for what we have, and I'm focusing on the blessings of a devoted husband.
I went for a run this morning with the temperature hovering around 66 degrees. That's ridiculously warm for December. I dressed in a short sleeved shirt and knee length running tights. After nearly 40 minutes, I felt drops of rain falling on me. I turned right, hoping the rain might not have arrived farther south, but the rain intensified and the wind picked up, roaring down the street and bending young trees over so that they nearly touched the ground.
As the rain soaked through my clothes, I listened for thunder and watched for lightning. In spite of the intensity of the storm, no thunder and lightning, so I ran the mile and a half home, dripping. Each step squooshed with water.
Even as I continued to run, I knew that I could stop in any doorway, pull my phone from my waterproof belt and call my husband. He would walk through the rain to the car and drive down the streets to rescue me.
Having someone who will be there in any situation is such a luxury; one that I don't feel thankful for often enough. So today, I'm feeling grateful.

25 Years Ago Today

Earl and I were married in front of a creek lined with tiger lilies in a holler in Kentucky, technically Daniel Boone National Forest, on paper in my parents' front yard, a blueberry farm. The weather bloomed sunny and warm as I dressed in the loft bedroom with my best friend from high school helping me as my maid of honor.

Here's a photo of our newly ringed fingers on our wedding day.

And here are our much older hands today. The rings are still intact. 

People who say marriage is easy, well good for them. I think marriage is full of ups and downs, some spectacularly joyous moments and some sad moments when you aren't sure this is going to work.
If you keep plugging along each rolls into the next and maybe you'll find yourself married to the same man 25 years later, planning ways to make life even more exciting, liked moving to France.

My hair looks pretty big here, but I clearly adore my groom. 

Still in love 25 years later, with flowers in my hair and a bouquet picked from my yard. 

What Kind of Wife Are You?

Sometimes I wish I was one of those kinds of wives. You know the type. The ones that expect their husbands to take care of everything.
I was huddled in my car at 8:30 tonight, ready to drive home from teaching. The snow was falling heavily, and my windshield wipers scraped at the ice beneath trying to clear the glass.
I called home to see if anyone needed anything.
Spencer, home for spring break, planned to take the car after I got home.
Damn.
I had been debating whether I needed to stop and get gas. I could brave the snow and get gas on the way home while the temperature hovered around 30 degrees, or I could wait for the next day when the snow would have stopped but the temperature would plummet.
If Spencer was taking the car, I'd need to stop and get gas. He's a poor college student so has no money to fill up the car.
Earl offered, "You could come home and I'll go out and get gas."
But I couldn't. I'm not that kind of wife -- the kind who would go home where it's warm while her husband ventured out in the snow for no reason. I was out already; a little snow and cold wouldn't kill me while I filled the car with gas.
And so, I did.

But Earl told me, "You can be that kind of wife if you want to."
I'll keep that promise in mind, just in case I ever need it.

Still Laughing

It's nice to know that, after nearly 25 years of marriage, I can still make my husband laugh.
But the joke began a few days ago. From within the house, I heard a repetitive whining  noise.
"What is that?" I asked Earl.
He walked to the back door and saw a squirrel perched on the edge of the porch calling out.
"Maybe he's mad that there's no bird food on the ground," I suggested.
"Too bad we don't have any thing to feed him," Earl said.
We pondered the squirrel food question for a few minutes before I remembered the peanuts in the cabinet.

Not my picture. But adorable. http://ellecasey.com/squirrel/

Earl opened the door and threw some peanuts underneath the bird feeder. The squirrel, of course, ran away, but eventually made his way back to the grass where he gathered salted peanuts.
After that, the squirrel was a regular feature under the bird feeder. I'd see him every time I went out the back door to the garage or on a walk.
Tuesday morning I was headed toward the garage with Earl on our way to work and the little squirrel looked up expectantly.
"Hey Squirrelfriend," I said, in that voice you would say "Hey, girlfriend!"
And it cracked up Earl. Every time I saw him for the rest of the day, he would shake his head and say, "Squirrelfriend."

Why My Marriage is Pending -- On Facebook

Sometimes, social media gets me into awkward situations.
I blog, I'm on Facebook, I have a Twitter account and people keep following me even though I don't know why because I rarely tweet. You'd think that I am fairly savvy about technology.
But I can't tell you the number of times I've called my daughter Grace to say, "Fix  it!" I've usually posted something I didn't mean to or been tagged in a photo that I don't like or made some sort of awful editing error that will not look good for a writer.
One day, as Grace and I were looking at something on Facebook, she clicked on my profile and said, "Why is this pending?"
It was a request from Earl to confirm that we are married.
I mean, of course, we are. We've been married nearly 25 years.

I hadn't seen his request and had no idea when he sent it.
Originally, when I was using my Facebook page as an author page, I didn't include anyone in my family settings. As you know if you read my blog, I talk about my kids and their exploits. I didn't want to reveal to the world their last names, preserving them a tiny bit of anonymity.
But, now I have a separate author page, and I try to limit my personal Facebook page to friends and family, so I could safely acknowledge my husband on my Facebook page.
The only problem was, the day that Grace pointed out that I hadn't acknowledge the marriage request, well, Earl and I were in the middle of a fight.
It was only a few weeks ago, but I can't remember what the fight was about (of course). I told Grace I couldn't possible accept his request now because that would be a conciliatory act in the middle of an argument. The fight faded, but I didn't remember to go on Facebook and add Earl as my husband.
The other night when Earl was on his Facebook page, he clicked on his profile.
"Why is this pending?" he asked.
"Oh," I laughed and told him the story about seeing it when we were in a fight. He immediately pretended to be affronted and protested that I didn't need to acknowledge him if I didn't want to.
"I can't do it from my phone," I explained. My computer was all the way across the room.
But I updated my profile, typing in Earl's name as my husband, since I couldn't accept his request on my phone.
Now, our marriage is no longer pending. Facebook does believe that we were married in 2011 rather than in 1990. And if you were to click on the marriage statement, you'd see some pretty strange photos of me and Earl, like one of us standing on the top of an Indian head statue, Tecumseh, and accompanied by a French friend. Plus Earl's comment, "Beautiful day, beautiful bride." People must think, "Is this where they got married?" But his comments go with another picture and another post.

Like I said, it's all very complicated.
Very bizarre, but you can't always fix social media.
Here's an actual photo as we were driving away from Mom and Dad's farm to the reception.

Anniversary

When Earl and I got married, 24 years ago tomorrow, in a holler in Kentucky, the tiger lilies were in bloom all along the creek in front of my parents' log cabin. We stood in front of an arch of fake flowers that were overshadowed by the tiger lilies which reached up on slender stems and burst forth in a firework of orange flowers.

Here is our small wedding party. Just perfect really. My best friend Tracey,
Earl's  niece Erin as our flower girl. Earl's brother Art as his best man, plus the priest.
Can you see the tiger lilies behind us?

As the climate has changed, the tiger lilies have bloomed earlier and earlier. Last year, they had even finished blooming in Ohio by our anniversary. Where we live in Ohio is four hours north of the site of our wedding in Kentucky.
This year, the spring was late so everything is blooming later.That's why the tiger lilies are in full bloom this year as we celebrate our anniversary.

Happy Anniversary to my husband. Like
the tiger lilies, we're still blooming each year. 

If I had it to do again, I would definitely coordinate the wedding party with the outdoor flowers. Plus, it's a nice reminder about the world around us as the years fly by.

Goodreads Giveaway

If you're on Goodreads, enter for a chance to win a paperback copy of my novel, I See London I See France. I'd love it if you'd friend me on Goodreads too.

Goodreads Book Giveaway

I See London, I See France

by Paulita Kincer

Giveaway ends May 26, 2014.
See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

Enter to win

Book Trailer

I have a new book trailer for my novel I See London I See France.
I hope you'll watch it and maybe click on "like" too to help me promote my book.

France Book Tours -- Confessions of a Paris Party Girl

France Book Tours asked me to review a copy of Confessions of a Paris Party Girl by Vicki Lesage. 

Here's the synopsis from the author:

Wine, romance, and French bureaucracy – the ups and downs of an American’s life in Paris. This laugh-out-loud memoir is almost too funny to be true!

 Drinking too much bubbly. Meeting sappy Frenchmen who have girlfriends or are creeps or both. Encountering problème after problème with French bureaucracy. When newly-single party girl Vicki moved to Paris, she was hoping to taste wine, stuff her face with croissants, and maybe fall in love. In her first book, this long-time blogger and semi-professional drinker recounts the ups and downs of her life in Paris. Full of sass, shamefully honest admissions, and situations that seem too absurd to be true, Vicki makes you feel as if you’re stumbling along the cobblestones with her.

Will she find love? Will she learn to consume reasonable amounts of alcohol? Will the French administration ever cut her a break?

 This memoir traces the lucky life of Vicki who moved to Paris in her 20s and made an exciting new French life. Part Bridget Jones' Diary, part Le Mariage by Diane Johnson, the author takes us on a roller coaster of ex-pat fun.

Those of us who are enamored of France imagine what life would be like if we moved there. Mostly we dream of baguettes and wine. We don't really picture the difficulties.

The author pulls no punches in laying out the difficulties. Making life a little harder for herself, she parties like Bridget Jones and has many regrets afterwards. 

We ordered off the English menu anyway, and passed the evening in a blur of indulgent food and copious amounts of wine. I recall a tasty after-dinner drink (or three) comprised of white wine, wild berry liqueur and cognac. I'm sure I no longer had any control over the volume of my voice.....In hindsight, I probably shouldn't have had so many after-dinner drinks. Then again, they shouldn't make them taste like Kool-Aid if they don't want me to order fifty of them. Who can win a fight against wild berry liqueur? 

 I'm well past my partying days, and mostly as the author described her overindulgences, I felt glad I had moved on.

Vicki Lesage is an IT Director by day, writer
by night. And a full-time nerd. She loves fondue,
 wine, math, and zombies.She lives in Paris with her
 French husband and rambunctious son.

Much more interesting to me were all of the French quirks of culture, like yogurt as dessert. I loved hearing about the classes she had to take to be allowed to work in France. And who knew about the number of hoops someone has to jump through to get married to a Frenchman. That was really fascinating. I wonder if they could have avoided it by getting married in the United States.
But what Francophile girl hasn't dreamed of being married in Paris? The author achieves this goal.

At the crack of dawn on Saturday, we headed to our appointment with Père Nicolas. Normally sleeping off a hangover at this hour, I saw a new Paris during the five-minute walk. Store owners straightening their shops, old ladies rolling their grocery caddies, street cleaners sprucing up the sidewalks....
According to the rules of the French Catholic Church, you have to get married in the church in your quartier unless you are an active member of another church. I supposed this was to avoid everyone clamoring to marry in Notre Dame of Sacré Coeur.

 I loved seeing the details of planning the marriage and pulling it off.
This was a fun read and I recommend it. Maybe for vacation, or if you can't afford a vacation this year. Go to Paris and sow your wild oats in this memoir.

What Story Would You Tell?

Have you ever listened to the Moth Radio Hour? I hear it on my NPR station and have an app on my phone so I can listen if I missed the radio broadcast. People usually tell stories that are funny or tragic. They either make me laugh or cry.
I asked Grace what story she would tell on the Moth Radio Hour. She thought maybe she'd tell about the parties her French friend threw while she visited Paris. I suggested she could tell the story about her sorority sister who sabotaged her romance then slept with the guy herself. No, she decided, she would tell the story about flying home from France in tears when American Airlines bumped her up to first class. I posted briefly about this story in December 2011.
I'm not really sure what story I would tell. I wonder if I've written a blog post that would make a good Moth Radio Hour story.
I'll try occasionally to tell a brief story on my blog that could expand into a Moth Radio Hour story.
I'm not sure why, but I've been thinking about the incident that made Earl get serious about dating me.
Earl and I both worked as reporters for the Tampa Tribune in Pinellas County, that's the little peninsula that stands between Tampa, Florida and the Gulf of Mexico. St. Petersburg and Clearwater are in Pinellas County.
Earl covered the courts and I covered city government in Clearwater. Earl started working there about a year before I did. He was married at the time I met him, but it was a rocky marriage. (That's a story I'll let him tell.)
He and his wife, Elaine, decided to separate in January, and I had a two-bedroom apartment so I offered to let Elaine have the extra bedroom. I'd met her a few times when we all went out together. I was 26 and figured they'd be back together in a few weeks.
I saw Earl most days at work, but never told him that his wife didn't spend nights at my apartment. Some days I'd find evidence that she had been in the apartment while I was at work, but I rarely saw her.
One day I had an assignment to cover Gasparilla, that's a pirate day celebration around Mardi Gras, and I was going to ride a boat across Tampa Bay. I could take a friend, and I asked Elaine if she wanted to go with me.
"You should take a date," she said. I wasn't dating anyone.
"Take Earl," she suggested.
And I did.
Earl was picking me up early, at 8 or 9 a.m. The night before Earl's early arrival was the only night that Elaine spent in my apartment. She was there when Earl came to pick me up.
Eventually, Elaine moved in with the man she was spending time with, and Earl and I started dating. We went back and forth a hundred times. Earl would break up with me and go to marriage counseling with Elaine. Then he would come back and say he couldn't stop thinking about me. He'd show up on my doorstep with a 6-pack of Dos Equis, which was a new beer at the time. Finally, Earl decided to get a divorce.
We continued dating, but as someone just coming off a divorce, Earl wasn't too serious. We still went back and forth until I met Sergeant Randy.
I met Sergeant Randy through work. He was a cop, and I was working on a story about prostitutes -- a new program that punished the "johns" more than the women. I rode along with him one night as he staked out prostitutes, and they arrested the men who propositioned them.
I remember sitting in the front seat of the cruiser with Randy and we had an instant flirty rapport. He made me laugh. Now when I think of him, he reminds me of Ray Romano from Everybody Loves Raymond.
He asked me out, and I said, "yes."
The next day, I told Earl that I was going to start dating someone else.
I loved Earl, but the anguish of the back and forth was too gut wrenching for me. I figured it might take him years to get over his divorce, and I was ready to move on. His marriage counselor told him that I was only "a flash in the pan."
That day, after a goodbye lunch and lingering kisses, Earl decided he was ready to get serious. He wanted to be exclusive.
I'm not one of those conniving women who planned to force Earl to get serious. I truly found Sergeant Randy attractive and I'd had enough of waiting for Earl.
To this day, Earl remains a little jealous of Randy and refers to him as Katzenjammer, because he has a German sounding last name.  We haven't stayed in touch, but he did come to our wedding party and give us a gift of margarita glasses.
And whether Earl admits it or not, now nearly 24 years after we married, Randy had a role in bringing us together.

First Paragraph, Tuesday Teaser -- I See London I See France

Every Tuesday, Diane at Bibliophile by the Sea posts the first paragraph of her current read. Anyone can join in. Go to Diane's website for the image and share the first paragraph of the current book you are reading.
I was wondering which book I should feature today for First Paragraph and Tuesday Teaser, when I realized, I'd better showcase my own.
I See London I See France by me (Paulita Kincer) is about a married mother of three who realizes she doesn't know who she is or what she wants any more. So she sells her minivan and, with her three children, runs away to Europe.
Here's the first paragraph:

“I’ve had enough, Caroline.” He tossed the words down the stairs like an empty laundry basket.
Obviously, that was a subtle signal my husband Scott needed some time alone. It’s not like I immediately followed him up the stairs to continue the fight I’d started with a few well-placed comments about the leak in the bathtub not fixing itself.

Instead of shadowing him to the second floor, I continued to the dining room table and calmly folded clothes. I could hear him moving around as the old wooden floors squeaked above me.  I pictured him pacing in anger as our angry words dissipated. He’d probably calm down by the time I finished folding the clothes in neat piles and stacked them back in the basket.

Also this week  is Teaser Tuesdays. Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB of Should Be Reading. Anyone can play along! Open to a random page of your current read  and share a teaser sentence from somewhere on that page. BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! Share the title & author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR Lists if they like your tease.

Here's my teaser from page 54 during a flashback to Caroline's college days in France:

 I suppose we were taking our lives in our hands, Jean-Marc sailing with me as his helper, since I didn’t know what I was doing. As he taught me to sail, pulling on the ropes with my hands, hooking my feet under a cord and leaning out over the water to balance the boat, I became bruised and callused on my palms and the tops of my feet.I didn’t feel the pain, though. I felt the exhilaration of skimming along the very blue water and the spray on my face. On a sailboat in the Mediterranean with a handsome Frenchman. Would any of my friends at home believe it?

Hope you enjoyed the teasers. Please spread the word. My novel is available on Amazon or Barnes & Noble  or in paperback.