Archive | Travel RSS feed for this section

Hater of Pictures. Lover of Ice Cream.

31 Jul

Maybe this cone will put a smile on his face.

What is the perfect dessert after a bowl full of ramen?

I bought some “real” ice cream for a shoot. I knew he wouldn’t mind.

Finishing the pints.


And after another ramen lunch.

Who cares if its Winter? We just climbed the largest Dune in Europe.

We are so lost in Madrid. Better eat this ice cream bar and figure out what’s what.

First night back in France Mango was his choice

First night back in France
Mango was his choice

Summer beach Ice cream may top them all

Summer beach Ice cream may top them all

Life Without B

19 Dec

Walking into the house I left my sweater and shoes on, plopped onto the sofa confused almost about what I was to do with myself with B gone all week. I had just returned from dropping him at the airport, direction Colorado. Snow and cold are not really my bag, or the combination while also trying to balance on two skinny planks attached to my feet. No thank you. Skiing always seemed sort of elitist to me and the only elitist behavior I can appreciate is eating a well prepared meal made with quality ingredients because one doesn’t have to rent expensive gear or invest in a $200 jacket plus insulated pants. (I have also been known to state that I am too brown for the cold.) I lined up a string of baby sitters to keep me company and indulge in fun things like, doing whatever I want to do to pass the time until my darling husband comes back, but adult schedules are hard and some plans fell through.

DAY ONE: Figuring it was about time I paid my mother a visit I arranged a work shoot with a restaurant in my home town. I loaded my gear and the pups and headed for the hills. I don’t care to come home much. Since my parents divorced and our childhood home was sold it is more foreign to me than my visits abroad. Nothing is where I think it should be and the food is weird. Having spent the past decade in the city I am spoiled in that I can find healthy meals anywhere at relatively any time of day. Going home however, a fancy salad is one with iceberg AND romaine then sauced with dressing. And it is best to not be vegetarian.


DAY TWO: When B is gone all I do is wait for that first text. Wait for a phone pic of those cheeks and eyes.
It is painful and sometimes when he waits too long my heart aches.



Instagram shot of me enjoying the Texas Winter Sun.

Instagram shot of me enjoying the Texas Winter Sun.

I want that he has fun and enjoys time with friends but I also need to know he wishes I were there or hear in his voice that he misses me while he excitedly shares his adventures in the snow. But he is not good at this. What I get is that obligatory call or text on the way out or right before bed with nothing to say. I am sad but my day on my own was a decent one. In marriage sometimes I forget I use to be my own person. At times, having that break reopens the part of me where I do things for myself. It is healthy and I appreciate it but somewhat reluctantly. I miss his smell.

DAY THREE: A few texts come and go. B is tired. I want to hear him smile but I have company. We text our sweet goodnights then once my friend leaves the beers I drank whisper to me it wouldn’t be the worst thing to hear his voice. Awakened by my multiple texts asking repeatedly if he is asleep, (he was), I tell him I hope he is thinking about me,(he is, probably at this point not very favorably) and that I love him. I get the appropriate responses but no call.

DAY FOUR: I do not feel well. My tummy is all wonky. Probably because non Europeans are not meant to live on a steady diet of cheese and wine for breakfast.

Once, B had to move four hours away for TWO MONTHS. I was devastated and cried every single day he was gone. Most recent was a trip he had to spend on the road filming a commercial across the state,but that was at least two years ago. Again, cried everyday. I don’t know it yet, but I will cry tomorrow.
Anyway, it is a lazy day of Annie Hall, Pandora music, most of Season 2 of “Who the @#*! did I Marry” while cleaning, getting ready for my date with a friend. It’s her turn to babysit. We go to my favorite restaurant for dinner. I get to wear my new red shoes. Fancy. They hide between the bar and my stool because I prefer the bar top for dinner.

New Shoes

New Shoes

It’s been a couple of days since I’ve heard B’s voice. What I want to hear is an upbeat account of everything. What I hear instead is him call the house they are renting, “home” twice in a monotoned itinerary of what was done that afternoon. And when I get my feelings hurt he says, “you knew what I meant”, but I don’t, not the way he thinks I should. He is outside. Evidently unable to talk in front of anyone. It is a large house and he has his own room so I am confused but okay, if he does not mind standing in the cold. Less than ten minutes in, “My battery is dying. I’m at one percent.” Oh. Okay. Bye then.
What I understand from that call is that “home” is not where I am but wherever he is. B is always fine. Just fine. Fine with not talking to me for days. Fine with being married through a few short texts messages for a week. I do not feel left out. I feel unloved. Unworthy of a little forethought to charge a phone so that we can have a conversation. I go to bed upset and dream about ripping a man’s balls and cock off of its stupid naked body with my bare hands. Afterwards, I smile.



We are not built the same. I know he loves me because he married me, because he tells me so. Because of his day to day actions of unloading the dishwasher, being supportive in my choice to follow my dreams. Because he trusts me. Because he listens to my hurt feelings and curves his behavior. These gestures I try not to take for granted because they are the big ones. Sometimes though I miss the passion of our teen years or even our first few months in this life. The words that he cannot live without me because this is what I tell him, the hands he use to not keep off of me. Wrapped up in each other multiple times all morning. I feel like something is wrong with me for still feeling this way. When I am not near him all I want is to be. And when we are close, all I want are his arms. And when in his arms all I want are his kisses. And when he does kiss me…This feeling I wish I could take off like an uncomfortable piece of clothing because it is not fair. I try to remind myself maybe it is part of why he loves me. Because I would do anything. I am ready for day six but I still have more than a full day.

Thursdays are pint night at the neighborhood grocer. I head over to have a bite and a beer when my phone rings. Exciting! The conversation begins with, “we’re about to go have dinner and go to the Springs.” I roll my eyes with a smile, thankful he cannot see me. We chat for a moment before his premonition of having to get off the phone comes true. He says he’ll call me again later. He doesn’t. I read something recently about not holding your spouse responsible for your own emotional happiness. I admit this is something I must work on.

I wrap up my last true free night talking to strangers. Having the most interesting conversations I have had in a while. Something about the sharing of ideas and good debates from new perspectives. It was, and this is a word I do not use ever because of the sharp way it moves through the mouth but in this case, the most appropriate word; invigorating. It was a discussion about life, not about being married, not about home, not about what each of us “do”. It was exactly what I needed.

Once home, I sent a very direct message then dozed off waking up to an apology but I didn’t care because…..

DAY SIX: Blah, blah, blah, words. Time to shave my legs and fix my hair. I’m a little pissy but the closer B gets the more I warm up. By the time I pick him up from the airport, thawed and once I see those eyes and that smile, completely melted. What can I say?

I Love Hearts

5 Feb


Garland Hearts in Amsterdam


Heart in a Window in Bordeaux


Sand Heart in San Diego


Heart in my Beer, Austin


Heart in the sky, San Diego


Heart on a Dumpster, Austin


Pate Heart, Toulouse

Pate Heart, Toulouse

Follow me to…

8 Dec

El Cosmico