Oh my!

I had a handful of crushes when I was a teenager. At the time, they were passionate and meaningful. Actors, singers and an occasional neighborhood boy captured my heart. I am the first to admit that I had a major crush on Leif Garrett. Hey, I was a kid and he was cute. I learned the words to all of his songs. I bought his albums. (I still own his albums) I played them over and over again. I daydreamed.

Yes, I know what he looks like now.



It doesn't change how I felt for him back then. It was real. Ah, young love. Another guy I had a crush on was Lance Kerwin. Come on, "James at 15," was the show I watched.



I think I mostly had a thing for blond guys. Funny, considering I married a dark haired guy. lol Lets just say most of the young guys I had crushes on when I was a teenager sure as heck didn't age well as they grew up.

I think Shaun Cassidy is one of the few that looked great then, and looks nice now.



I don't discount the attractions I felt as a teenager. My hormones were going nuts. It's a normal progression to the emotions I faced when I began dating. Life is not an afterschool special and, no, Scott Baio never did step up to my door to ask me for a date. It doesn't mean I didn't dream about it. lol




Young love is a flame; very pretty, often very hot and fierce, but still only light and flickering. The love of the older and disciplined heart is as coals, deep-burning, unquenchable.

Henry Ward Beecher

Imaginations

Ever since I was a kid I've often wondered how other people live. As a passenger in my parent's car or even my own as I got older I would stare at the houses we'd drive by. Little houses, big houses, red houses, and even purple houses--they sat on the side of the road full of people and animals.

What did the owners do for a living? How did they wind up living where they did? Was the house left to them by a dying aunt? Did they purposely pay money to own the 600 square foot bungalow that looked more like a shed than a place someone would call home?

Are they happy? Are they like Mother Hubbard and have more kids than they knew what to do with? Or were they the grumpy couple who hated kids and chased them off their lawns?

I wanted to know who those people were--did they hug their kids or beat their parents? Were they honest souls or crooks who stab me without a second thought?

Were they teachers, bus drivers, chefs or businessmen? Were they allergic to strawberries or dance naked by the light of a full moon? Do they have a brother-in-law sleeping on the sofa kicked out by a pissed off wife?

In the briefest of moments as I drove past their homes I wondered these thoughts. I never really got my answers.

Did the wonder the same thing about me and mine?

Dreamy Christmas

Wandering around shopping one day, I happened to stumble upon a Thomas Kinkade gallery. I had heard of him before, but wasn't quite sure what the story was behind his artwork. I knew I sort of liked it, but it was way outside my budget. Yes, it's a bit smarmy, in my opinion, but also it's hopeful. It harkens back to a time some of us wish we could go--a simpler time, and a simpler life.

Okay, maybe just a dream life that is simpler. I would love to live in one of his paintings for just one Christmas. They always look like they are more enjoyable, softer, safer, sweeter and what Christmas should be like--perfect. Which, as many of us know, Christmas doesn't always work out that way.

Mine are usually pretty good, but I know if I lived in one of Thomas Kinkade's paintings it would be perfection.

What painting would you want to step into and live?