I am hardly ever at a loss for words. I’m a natural talker and words are always my best friends. But, last night, my friend, Kim, sent me this photo her daughter took of the marquis of Half Price Books Flagship store in Dallas. It’s me! On the marquis! I was so surprised. I have a book signing for The Conservative Congregant this coming Sunday, so the store was advertising it.
I was so shocked! Needless to say, I’ve never had my name on a billboard, marquis or anything other than the role at school. So, I wanted to share this with you . I don’t want to toot my own horn, but it’s pretty cool!
Which leads me to talk a little bit about marketing books. I’m trying to learn how to do this as Independent authors do not have the luxury of a publicist or marketing director. So, I thought, “What better way to advertise than to use my husband.” It was brilliant when I saw the advertisement for the shirt. I had to buy it. It was his Christmas present this year. He laughed when he saw it and said, “It’s really all about you, isn’t it?” Well, maybe not all the time, but it’s fun when it is. Enjoy his promo ad for me.
I want to take this opportunity to brag on my husband a little bit… or maybe a lot. For the most part, he is the kindest, most gentle man I know. You might think that most women would say that about their husbands, but mine has a proven track record.
As most of you know, I have had my struggles with bipolar disorder. I’m not ashamed of it. It’s part of me, but it definately does not define me. However, there was a time when I was really a pretty sick little chick. I heard voices, I was mean, I was afraid, I was another person. My husband did his best to help others understand I was not myself, that something had happened down the way and I was not the girl he married. Even when I divorced him, he stood by me. I moved to Granger, Texas to live my life separate from him. I had a boyfriend (who no one but me liked), but I went home each and every weekend I could. Stephen let me stay at the house, took me places, fed me, helped me. I ended up divorcing him anyway. It wasn’t I was a mean and ugly person, I was sick and lost.
When I moved back to Dallas, my husband let me move into our house. I gave him checks for rent, which he didn’t always cash, and I was grateful for being there. He had worked in the mental health industry when he lived in England long years ago. He knew how to help me, how to comfort me when I was afraid.
Many people told him he should just let me go, he should divorce me, move on and find someone else, but he was adamant that the person I was , was not the person he married. He prayed, and prayed some more, he hung in there with me and he loved me despite myself. Then, on Valentines Day, 2000, he asked our children for their permission to remarry me. We remarried on April 22, 2000. I was still not 100% whole, but I was getting there. And he stayed with me during times when my own mother didn’t know who I was. Not too many husbands would stand by their wives when they are not mentally there. My husband did and I’m so grateful he did.
So, this blog post is for him as is all my love. If you have a relative who has a mental illness, hang in there with them, pray for them and love them. They will appreciate you more than you will know.
Thank you , Stephen for hanging with me. It’s been quite the ride and I know it will continue to be for lots of years to come! I love you!
I would follow this man anywhere. My husband. He is my best friend, the love of my life and the one person who gets me . He’s stuck with me through thick and thin and believe me- there has been plenty of thin. In fact, we divorced in the late 90’s. We were so bad at staying away from each other and at being divorced in general- we just married all over again! There were no marriages in between, so, it works out that we can just pick up where we left off. Our second ceremony was in 2000. We set the date for April- six months from our original October wedding. Works out perfectly. That way, we have an anniversary every six months!
My husband asked this morning if he wanted to come home and read this evening without the television on would that be okay with me.
“Sure!” I responded happily, finding myself wishing we didn’t have tv at times. But, I didn’t know I was going to be in a chatty mood.
I’m the kid who got “talks too much” on each and every report card each and every year. Year in and year out. No matter how many spankings I got for it, no matter how many times my dad told me I was in school to learn, not to talk, I still talked. It just happened. My mouth would open and the words poured out. What could I do?
My poor husband has probably been trying to read the same sentence over and over. That’s so frustrating. At least I know it is for me. But, my Stephen has the added problem of the dogs-every dog we have barking. Then, I’m hollering at the dogs to hush. All the while trying to produce the quiet he deserves. The poor man doesn’t ask for much.
I am, then, trying to concentrate on writing. After I finish this brief missive, I’ll go on to write more of my book,”Tales from the Ass Farmer’s Wife.” Oh heck! now he’s rattling on. I guess he gave up after all this- that’s what usually happens here! What a hoot!
32 years ago, I married the guy who turned out to be the love of my life. Funny story, that. I thought he was the love of my life when we were dating. But, not so much. He drank alot. I smoked alot. He played in a band. I was his groupie. Actually, I picked him up in Tom Thumb, the grocery store he stopped in to buy “two packets of Mahlboros.” He is Scottish. Back then, he had a brogue I couldn’t really understand. I was so excited when he said he had come from England because I, too, had just come over from England- the only difference was – I was born, raised and lived here. I was only visiting England. So, I asked him if he would stay for my break and talk to me about the places I’d been to in England – you know- since he knew where they were and all and no one here in the states knew where I was talking about. Well, someone might have, but I had no idea who they might have been. So, he stayed for my break, we drank coffee, smoked cigarettes and he laughed that I had visited Newport Pagnell in Buckinghamshire. But, the guy I’d gone to visit lived there. That was my “youth hostile” – the place I told my mom I was staying. I couldn’t very well tell her I was spending that time with a guy, now, could I? We talked about Buckingham Palace and Purley, in Surrey where he lived (nudge, nudge,wink, wink say no more) and suddenly , my break was over. We exchanged numbers and I thought about him all night. He had brown, curly, shoulder length or thereabouts hair, big brown eyes that I have never been able to say no to- until later, and, of course, that brogue.
Before he left, he told me he was going to have a root canal in the next couple of days. I felt so bad for him- it was Christmas , for heaven’s sake – the time when everyone eats until they drop and this poor guy was going to be drinking his turkey dinner.
I never made any secret of the fact I had a daughter from a previous marriage, and he never seemed daunted by it. We were a package deal and he was cool with that. And he wasn’t all over me like some guys were. We had a fairly long courtship- about three years- off again, on again. Any day it was snowy-that was a good day to visit him. I usually spent snowy lunch breaks at his house. I met his dad , who had the most sparkly blue eyes and wicked sense of humor I’d ever seen in an older man. He was fun loving and enjoyed looking after Stephen. There are several fun stories I could relay to you, lovely reader, but it’s best left for another time.
Sadly, one year, Dad passed away and Stephen asked me to marry him. He was quite inebriated at the time and I was none too happy about it. I told him he didn’t love me and he replied, “I could learn to love you.” I laughed and declined his invitation to marry. Later, I recanted my decline and a couple of days later, accepted. I loved him and thought I could make it all better. We married October 29, 1982- my best friend Betty, by my side and his best friend and band mate, Greg at his. We hopped the DART bus headed for downtown Dallas – he at one stop and me at
the other. A bride and groom are not supposed to see each other -you know before the wedding. But, since we had no car, I stayed at Betty’s and he at the apartment and we didn’t see each other before the getting on the bus. We rode to the Dallas County Courthouse where the Justice of the Peace performed the ceremony and then declared, “I now pronounce you man and wife -that’ll be $10- you may kiss the bride.” Good job we had ten dollars. We had no idea it was going to cost more than what the marriage license cost. Just like that, we were married. Amanda and I had a husband and father.Pretty dadgum cool!
Well, the part about him “turning out to be the man of my dreams… ” well, that’s kind of a longer story. We have had many adventures, have divorced and remarried and this is the best marriage I’ve ever had! So what if i’ve been married twice to the same guy… we made it and he did turn out to be the love of my life. Fancy that- all from a chance encounter or was it chance after all?