SEX. That’s right, SEX. Well . . . okay, we may not be talking about sex, but I wanted to make sure you guys would at least glance at this post. Men get this first round (with ladies going next) because they were created before women. Thus, having been around longer, we probably need more help.

Let me run a risk by summing up this post: Spoil Her.

If you are drawing a blank right now, let me toss out some ideas. Remember when you first started dating? You would have done anything for her (except maybe let her have the remote). What are you doing different now?

Open the car door for your lovely lady. If this works without her having a heart attack, you might want to try other doors as well.

What do you think might happen if you always filled her car with gas so she never had to?

Hold hands with her just because. When she questions you tell her, “Because I love you.”

Tell her how beautiful she is to you. Let her know (make her feel) she is the one special person in your life.

Offer to wash the after dinner dishes or laundry for her (whites in warm water; colors in cold). Let the love of your life sit back and relax.

Turn down the bed covers for her every evening.

Draw her bath for her.

Read to her.

Offer to make her something to drink or snack on while you are watching a movie together.

Let her have the remote and watch what she wants. (Uh, do I hear the winds of a mutiny?) Oh yeah, and watch it with her . . . without sarcasm.

When she has been busy all day (or just because you love her), make her supper . . . even if it is only macaroni and cheese.

Guys, make the love of your life feel loved and pampered. Let her feel spoiled. She deserves it. Granted, this could bring you under heavy scrutiny and suspicion, but she is still worth it. It will pay wonderful dividends in the future.

*Addendum: If you do this with the hope of getting a loving prize later, go directly to jail. Do not pass go. Do not collect any hope of developing a greater relationship with your spouse. Just do it because you love her. No strings attached.

When my girls were little, I loved spending time with them. They probably deserved much more of their dad’s attention, but selfishness has always been a struggle.

I would take one or both girls with me on a trip to the store or to visit a friend. I once took one with me on a job interview. (They even asked her questions . . . and I got the job . . . probably because of her.)

One such trip, I took my oldest daughter (five years of age) with me to Kmart. My rememberer has been stuck for a number of years, so I only recall items on a highly selective and suspect basis. This trip, I recall only one major detail and that is not what we went to the store for.

Aimee and I were perusing the usual items: toys, sports equipment, and candy. However, this was in October so we stopped to see costumes and masks. She rarely viewed costumes of ballerinas, princesses, kitty cats, or Raggedy Ann’s. No, she preferred costumes of the more boyish nature.

Aimee wanted to wear baseball uniforms and dreamt of being a superstar. Baseball was a love (as per a previous post). But today, she longingly looked at a costume that would cause her to be able to swing into her school classroom at the end of a spider web (Spiderman).

While she drooled over the possibilities, Dad was watching her until a mask caught his eye. I thought it unique in its day, though I never was much into masks. It was made of rubber that fit over the entire head. It was bald on top with wild, white hair on the sides. I thought it was a rather funny old man. So, I slipped it on.

I looked over to Aimee for approval. We were about at the same height as I was kneeling beside her. She still was busy dreaming of being a police officer or firefighter. “Aimee,” I said.

To this day, I remember the look on her face. She took one glance at me, shrieked and took off running in a flash. What she thought at that moment, I do not know. However, I have always wondered if she thought some old codger had eaten her dad whole.

I quickly got up, ripped the mask off my head and ran after her. I have always been quick, fairly agile, and fast. However, Aimee’s two-second head start had a rather unusual thrust on this day.

I ran, dodging racks of clothes and people (well, not racks of people) calling Aimee’s name. By the time I caught up with her, the big worm was half way across Kmart. I scooped her into my arms and held her almost as tight as she clutched me.

I felt bad for scaring her, but I felt I should tell her the truth about the incident. Because the first thing that came to mind was, “Thank goodness! We both got away from that old guy!”

No, I did not want her to think that old guys were scary. After all, I might just be one someday . . . and I will not be wearing a mask.

I have been rather tired over the last few days, so I think I will just sit back and enjoy some of the blogs I do not don’t have enough time to read.

Oh, I do have a question if anyone can help me with a problem. I go to the bank daily for business and the tellers enjoy locking the bank doors on me . . . when I am trying to come in! They think they are funny hitting that little button behind the teller station. Anyone have a good rebuttal?

They are probably paying me back for the times they cross the street to get gas. I get on the intercom and say, "Pump number three, stand back from the pump! Put your hands in the air and stand back from the pump!" If a customer is on the other side of the pump, I continue, "Pump four, keep your eye on the person at pump three." Or, "Pump five, please come in and pay when you are finished. I do not want you driving-off again."

Well, I guess I deserve everything I get.

Time to lay back and read.

The use of themes can be quite fun and romantic. The idea is to take a full day or several moments for several days and develop a theme for your loved one and you.

Before I go any further, I need to give a word of caution. Do not use a theme about something you love, but your spouse or intended would hate. Guys, do not use a theme of monster trucks or football if your lady hates big loud trucks and would rather kick you instead of the ball. Ladies, by the same token, do not use a theme around your favorite soap opera if your man would rather eat soap without condiments.

Value the above and your planning will not backfire into your face and bedroom. Instead, develop a theme around something your mate really enjoys (or the both of you).

Okay, let’s give an example of a theme: Lighthouses. This is rather popular. With this theme you could look for lighthouse cards to give, tour a lighthouse over the weekend, find songs about lighthouses, short stories to read or a photo book of lighthouses to look through together. There are many things to buy from throws to yard items. There are lighthouses with flashing lights that make the sounds of waves and seagulls.

But don’t stop there. If you are near a coast, make reservations and eat seafood (not Long John Silvers). If you live inland, possibly prepare a seafood meal and try a little ambiance. If you can’t cook, give Red Lobster a try. Find a great movie that includes lighthouses or where the setting is on the coast. Maybe give gifts pertaining to coastal living such as dolphins or a fishing pole (all the guys stand and cheer!).

Let me give a few themes you might enjoy using:

Use a theme from a favorite romantic movie. (Avoid ‘Dumb and Dumber’.)

Develop a theme from your first romantic date (engagement or favorite place).

Build a theme around “Our Song”.

Assemble a theme about your dreams.

If music plays a big part in your lives, make it a musical theme.

Owning and enjoying horses might make it a western theme.

Have your own “Love Boat” theme.

Whatever theme you decide on, let your imagination soar and have fun.

*Addendum. Avoid making sex the theme. Making love should be an outpouring of your love, not the central focus. Do not knock yourself out with preparation time (or debt) where you can’t enjoy it. Plan well. It does not have to expensive to be enjoyed. Shoot for great memories together.

Growing up in rural Illinois had its advantages and disadvantages. The negatives merely meant there was little to do with other youth . . . if there other youth within yelling distance. The positives were many, like I could learn to drive without hitting a curb or pedestrian on the sidewalk. But the main benefit was that I had to use my imagination to have fun.

My mind's eye would lead me to hit rocks with a bat over a storage shed for heroic game-winning homeruns; pitching a superball against a wall for hours to complete a perfect game in the World Series; or shoot ping pong balls into a small coffee can for a record amount of points in an NBA game.

However, one pet memory was a little different. My family lived near an abandoned strip mine and my brother and would go to the huge pond (I mean water skiing huge) to swim and fish in the summer and skating and sledding in the winter. One winter day my brother and I went sledding. The trick to sledding in an abandoned strip mine was in dodging all the trees and scrub shrubs down the steep hill to get to the ice. The main track was a foot path used by fishermen. This path was well worn, but there were still trees and one mighty thorn bush to avoid before hitting the last slope before one could see how far you would travel out onto the ice.

We took turns with the sled, willing ourselves to go faster and further than each other. It was on one such try that my mind still slides to this day. Steve was determined to beat his extremely competitive little brother and took off faster than Flash Gordon being burned by The Human Torch. He steered expertly around the many trees. A world record was in the making. However, fate would have nothing of it.

As he made his next-to-last turn, his speed was incredible as the frozen air lashed at his face. However, the speed was too much to negotiate the final turn and he flew full force into the mighty thorn bush. Fortunately, the sled stuck and was not hurt. Unfortunately, Steve flew through the middle of the bush and belly flopped six feet down onto the ice.

I sprinted down the hill to him (after rolling in the snow with laughter) realizing he might be seriously hurt. He was sprawled on the ground, glasses cockeyed, and began to cry once he was able to regain his breath. Steve’s coat was torn, he was scratched badly and the belly flop didn't do him much good either. Quickly summing up the situation, I decided to quit sledding for the day and walk my brother home . . . as my dad would have killed me if I had stayed.

Okay, I don't usually tell on myself like this, but here goes nothing. One night I had just gotten to sleep when I woke with a start. I sat up in bed and looked at Vicky, who was still awake.

I asked, "Was I dreaming?"

"Yes," she replied, with a smile that made me wonder.

A couple of nights later the same scenario occurred. Once again I sat up, looked at Vicky and asked, "Was I dreaming?"

Vicky could see my eyes pleading for the 'Yes, you were dreaming' answer. However, she was all but laughing.

She told me (still chuckling), "No, you were not dreaming. You did pass gas in your sleep . . . just like the other night."

Aargh! *double sigh* *humiliation* *embarrassment*

Hmm . . . not very romantic, huh?

There are times when we all do things that embarrass us: mistakes, errors, anger, etc. Whatever is done wrong, it may be okay to share it, but don't embarrass your spouse or loved one . . . ever. Don't belittle them or look down on them . . . and NEVER in public. A good relationship is one that builds one another up.

Be kind, speak well of each other, and play fair.


IDEA: Send a love note by email. Better yet, place little love notes in places he/she can find during the day. Where, you ask? In the car . . . in a book they are reading . . . on the pillow . . . in their favorite chair . . . in their underwear (ten extra points if they are wearing it). 

When the girls were little, I would use every free Saturday to babysit and let their mom get out of the house. I enjoyed being with girls . . . and if they became a handful, a couple naps would suffice my fragile little mind.

During one such time, I was making lunch. At the time, I knew little . . . er, nothing about cooking. So I was going to make the only thing I knew . . . eggs. Well, I knew instant oatmeal too, but I was fresh out.

As I was psyching myself up for the moment, Aimee walks into the kitchen.

"Are you making lunch, Daddy?"

"Yes I am," I say with a delicate confidence.

"What are you making?"

"What's the only thing your daddy knows how to make, Aimee?"

Without hesitation she blurts out, "Cornflakes!"

*sigh*

I like boxes. Though my memories cannot take me back to first attraction, it probably had to be when I crawled in them as a toddler. The only problem then was my siblings knew where to find the duct tape. After so much pushing, I apparently would give up and wait for Mom to find me. How I got blamed for taping myself into a box I will never know.

Yet, my fascination for boxes continued. When my daughters were little I would find large boxes to cut and color into fire engines, cars, houses, and stealth fighters*. (* this last item may not be true.)

Today, my allure toward boxes is at epic proportions. Why? Often I pack boxes away and do not open them again for years. When I finally do open them, it is almost like Christmas!

Today I found some old coins I have been saving for . . . well, ah . . . I have been saving them to get a little older before I take them out to look at them again. I also found cufflinks that I . . . ah . . . could use if I had a shirt that needed cufflinks. And then there is the pair of suspenders I could wear . . . say, with my belt in case one of them would break. I realize it sounds a little double-minded, but one must protect the world’s gag reflex.

Of course there are a couple of G.I. Joe’s . . . always handy in case the stuffed animals get out of line and attack. Then I have a bag of Israel souvenirs in case if I ever travel back to . . . uh . . . never mind. And of course there are my Legos which could come in handy when my fingers feel creative. Oh, yeah, and I found the wall clock without a battery that doesn’t match any room in the house.

Hmm . . . maybe I am the need of cleaning out a few boxes.

Petra, one of the New Seven Wonders of the World, dates back before the time of Christ. Impressive architecture, yet to today’s standards, it is hard for me to fathom how they accomplished this 2,000-plus years ago.

I have been privileged to visit Petra in the country of Jordan. There are few places where I stand in awe, but this is definitely one of them.

On this particular trip, I remember all the tourists either walking down a long corridor to Petra or loading onto horses. Watching others being led on horses, I thought (which I should never do) a horse would be fun. Thus, I mounted my trusty steed.

There is this need within my being to preface this upcoming scenario. Though we own horses (now retired from competition and riding), I have never considered myself to be a great rider. In fact, I often refer to myself as a Wal*mart Cowboy. You know, put quarter in and hope not to be thrown.

So back to our story . . .

Mounting the steed, the Jordanian owner took off at a gallop himself. This man must be in his 60’s and he is yanking his horse with me in tow.

Why he runs only leads to speculation . . . but speculation is what I do best. Is he needing money for the casino and trying to make all the money he can? Is he extremely competitive and feels the need to outrun all the other horses? Do others make fun of his horse and is trying to prove something? Does he have to get back to baby sit so his wife can get her nails done? Does he think my six-foot, 220-pound frame is too much for his horse?

Whatever his reason, the last one becomes an issue. Fortunately, there is a saddle horn to hang onto, because the owner racer very fast marathon runner has the reins in hand. While I hold on for dear life, I try to slip my feet into the stirrups. Having done so, I nearly knock myself out with my knees. The previous rider must have been a four-foot Arab jockey.

Now desperately trying to get my feet out of the stirrups before I lose consciousness, I find this very difficult at breakneck speed. Throwing my head back to avoid a knockout blow, I finally yank my feet free.

Of course, this has problems of its own. I now find myself flailing about on the saddle, holding on for dear life. Though I last longer than eight seconds (I do make it all the way), bailing seems like a reasonable option to playing mister bobble head for the next few minutes.

Finally, we finish the long corridor and arrive at Petra. Gladly dismounting, I think the horse and owner are both snickering. Whatever . . . but I will walk back . . . and may even skip my next couple of rides at Wal*mart.

Everyone could use ideas and often we just need to read something to get the process going in our heads. Here are some random thoughts as they pop into my mind (sounds like popcorn from here):

Write a love letter. Mail it.

Go on a surprise date (only if your spouse likes surprises).

Buy your love a card for no other reason than love.

Give your wife a gift certificate for a spa day.

Go to a concert, musical, or play.

Have a candlelight dinner at home.

Find a mutual book of interest and read to each other. (Avoid "War and Peace.")

Go to your spouse's favorite store together. Enjoy the time even you if you have to fake it until you make it.

Hide notes in each other's clothes.

Go horseback riding.

Go to a fondue restaurant.

If you need to wake the other up, do so with a hundred tender kisses to the face.

Take a pad of Post-it® Notes and write "I Love You" on each one. Now decorate your bedroom. Use some and make an outline of a heart. (You could have real fun if you have access to his/her office.)

Play soft, romantic music while you fall asleep.

Hold hands while you fall asleep.