Someone In My House Is Snoring!

snore while sleeping

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My father was a chronic snorer.  He had an undiagnosed case of Sleep Apnea and as a result, I got accustomed to hearing guttural rumbling noises coming from my parents’ bedroom.  

Fast forward to now.  There are three human beings that currently reside in my home.  One of them is definitely SNORING!!  Could it be my 20-year-old beautiful daughter?  My 53-year-old dashing husband?  Who is the culprit?

Well,  it has been brought to my attention by sources close (in proximity) to me, that I snore. 

Whaat? Not delicate and frail little ‘ol me!  Couldn’t be…

First of all, let’s get something straight.  I don’t SNORE, I breathe heavily with my mouth open.  There is a huge difference!

After adamantly denying that I snore breathe heavily with my mouth open, I finally accepted the possibility of it being a reality and decided to do something about it.  I purchased, “advanced 4-touch technology nasal strips.”  They promise to open up nasal passages reducing snoring   breathing heavily with mouth open.  

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Talk about false advertising and marketing.  Let’s just say I did not look as dreamy as the woman on the box.  Once I found the tabs that one pulls out to expose the sticky side,  I couldn’t figure out if I had it upside down or not.  

The first strip did not stick because I moisturize my face before bed time and the little sucker kept sliding off.  After washing my face and drying it thoroughly (per instructions I neglected to read the first time), I tried strip number two.  HOLY WIDE NOSE!!!

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Talk about opening up nasal passages

After kissing my hubby goodnight, I went to sleep.  Sometime in the middle of the night I awoke and felt my huge nose.  One side of the strip had come completely undone.  Needless to say, I looked quite lovely.

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Seriously?

 The next night, I tried another strip – this time I placed it too low and could not breathe.

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Reluctantly, I gave it another shot.  That night, I placed in on my nose perfectly, there was no flinging of sides in the middle of the night, I could breathe and I did not snore breathe heavily with my mouth open.  However, when I tried removing the strip in the morning, the skin of my nose came ripping off with the sticky strip.  OUCH!

Mother of God!

I am beyond traumatized by these damn nasal strips and much to my husband’s dismay, will not be wearing them ever again.  Wouldn’t he rather have me looking sexy and snoring  breathing heavily with my mouth open than me looking like a National Geographic tribal woman adorned with nose accessories with an excellent olfactory system?

There’s got to be another way.

Any suggestions?  Do you snore breathe heavily with your mouth open?

Love Has No Timeframe

I realize that I have written about my mother’s second marriage here before, but as I sit and watch her and her wonderful husband hanging out in my living room with me, I can’t help my desire to want to shout out their story and tell it over and over again.

My mother.  A beautiful and caring woman who has been my life line, my strength and my inspiration.  Someone who has taught me to accept what is, to make do with what one has and to persevere when the desire to quit is lurking nearby.

In her mid 70’s after having lived as a widow for twelve difficult years following the death of my father (her childhood sweetheart),  she met a man.  A man she was not looking for.  A man she was not interested in meeting.  A kind, intelligent persistent widower who had heard about her via mutual friends.

He lived in California, she in Puerto Rico.  Friends insisted they talk on the phone.  He gave her his email address, she purposely lost it. He had family in Puerto Rico and used that as an excuse to go meet her.  She reluctantly accepted his dinner invitation.

They dined, they talked, they laughed.  They dined again the next night.  And the next.   They laughed some more.  A month went by and they continued to ‘secretly date’.  Not a word was said to family or friends.  Not a word to their kids.

She traveled to the States to care for me after an operation.  While at my house, she behaved strangely.  She giggled often.  She texted a lot.  She smiled. She sang.  She skyped.  She was more giddy than my teenage daughter.  What was going on?

My husband caught her skyping in the middle of the night.  Who was she taking to?  She answered texts while at the dinner table with her grandkids watching her.  She was in her own little world.

Finally, I demanded she tell me what was going on.  She smirked, hesitated and blushed.  She informed me that she had met a ‘nice man’ who lived in California. WHAT??

After interrogating her, alerting my siblings, conducting a paid background check on him and google earthing his home,  I sat wide eyed with a dropped jaw, in disbelief.  She was flying to CA to visit him.  WHAT??

She flew to him.  She remained the moral and assured woman she had always been.  She stayed at a hotel near his home.  They dined, they laughed, they talked.  She called me to tell me they were engaged.  WHAT??

Who was this man?  Was she in danger?

Within a week, he had flown back to my home with her.  They were engaged and beaming with glee.  At a luncheon with my siblings where he proclaimed his love for her and his desire to marry her, we too were instantly smitten.  What an amazing person.  What a kind, loving and respectful man.  How he cherished my mother.  How happy they seemed.

On December 4, 2015, they will be celebrating their 5th year wedding anniversary.  They are by far, the sweetest, cutest and happiest couple I know.  They hold hands, they kiss, they watch out for one another, they travel, they dance, they dress up, they live and they love.

They say love is patient and kind.  I see that it is also within anyone’s reach, no matter the age.

Wishing them both many more years of love and health!

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What If He Says No?

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photo credit: morguefiles

It was agonizingly frigid on this stormy December evening, twenty-six years ago.   The highway was deserted except for the sand trucks, snow plows and a handful of foolhardy drivers.

What is typically a two-hour trek, took three and a half hours of white knuckle driving while his father directed his every move from the passenger’s side.  His mother sat silently in the back seat trying desperately not to show the terror she was feeling.  They should have canceled and gone on another night but her son was in love and insistent on making this special night happen.  She was proud of the young man he had become and admired the respect he exhibited for his girlfriend’s cultural traditions and norms.  She did not know what caused her more angst, the treacherous drive or the mission they were about to undertake.

Meanwhile at her home, a twenty-five year old nervous woman sat restlessly waiting for her visitors to arrive.  She was worried about their drive in this storm but not worried enough to have canceled.  She had been waiting for this remarkable yet terrifying moment since she was a little girl.  She prayed that her father would go easy on the man she hoped to spend the rest of her life with.  As if having to wait for her father’s response was not bad enough, her grandfather had flown in from Puerto Rico for a visit and was to weigh in on this scheduled convocation.

He carefully parked the car in her driveway wondering if the unrelenting snow would block them in and make it impossible to go back home.  He was sweating now and felt his throat dry up.  He held on to his mother and helped her navigate the slippery steps to the front door.  He had rehearsed his speech over and over but could not remember one word of it at that moment.  What if he says no?

After hearing the sound of the door bell, her siblings and cousins who were visiting, assumed their positions in another room but still within ear shot of where the deliberations were to take place.

Once inside, she could not take her eyes off of him.  He looked so nervous and pale.  He must truly care for her.  After enduring years as the boyfriend who had to prove himself worthy of her, there he was with his parents in the midst of a blizzard, proclaiming his love for her and stating his intentions of marriage for her father and grandfather to consider.

He spoke, his voice cracking at times while describing in detail what he could offer his bride-to-be and why he deserved their blessing.  Then, as planned, his father spoke, collaborating his son’s story and assuring her family that he and his wife supported his son’s decision and plan.

Her grandfather, in spite of his labored speech as a result of a stroke he suffered many years before and a limited English vocabulary, spoke about the true meaning of marriage and what it entails.  He was a proud and stern man and took his elderly and wise role in the family very seriously.

At last, her father began speaking.  He described the difficulties that life brings and the importance of family and values.  He took his time.  This was his time and he would use is wisely.  He offered his guidance, counsel and experience before finally raising his glass and giving his new son his blessing.

Tears were shed, corks were popped and the celebration began.

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Today, I wish my loving husband a Happy 25th Wedding Anniversary!

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morguefiles

daveswordsofwisdom.com

daveswordsofwisdom.com

They Waited

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They waited.  Actually abstained from doing it, the entire six years they dated.  Not to say they did not fool around, but she wanted to wait until they were married.  Being the gentleman that he was, he obliged.  He did not pressure her, ever.  He respected her and would patiently wait. She had her reasons and that was good enough for him.

After much anticipation, their wedding day came and went without a hitch.  What a beautiful event it was.  Her dress was perfect, the food was delicious, the guests were dancing and they were madly in love.  She looked like a real princess for that day and he, the handsome prince. They were finally married.

The inevitable would soon follow.  The eve of the wedding.  D-day.  The time had come to consummate their marriage, after a very, very, very, very prolonged sexual attraction.  They would be together as one, at last.  The evening brought with it exhaustion from the day’s activities and much-anticipated excitement, followed by nerves for what lay ahead.  They were free of guilt now.  Legal.  All was allowed, finally.  The pressure was on.  

After settling in, they laid their heads on their pillows and began to cuddle.  They tried with all their might to fight it, but reluctantly succumbed to what their heavy eyelids were telling them.  The exhaustion proved to be more powerful than their desire.  They both fell heavily into a blissful deep sleep.  Consummation, would not occur on that lovely evening, at the airport hotel.

The flight was scheduled to leave early the next morning and they did not want to miss it.  They sat wide-eyed at the gate, she staring at the two beautiful diamond bands that snuggly hugged her left ring finger and he, fidgeting and rotating the gold band which would now occupy his previously naked ring finger, for life. They were on their way to paradise for a week.

What a gorgeous island.  Clear blue skies and miles and miles of white sandy beaches.  The perfect getaway on this unusually cold November day.  They would miss Thanksgiving with the family back home but it did not matter, they were together at last.

The hotel was beautiful.  Open, breezy and tropical.  It was buzzing with excitement as happy vacationers in their bathing suits came in and out of the open doorways leading to the turquoise color waters ahead.

The hotel bellhop escorted the happy couple to their reserved exotic honeymoon suite.  Oh, the excitement was more than they could handle.  They giggled like two kids secretly walking to a forbidden place.

The doors of the suite opened and they stood in the doorway of this spacious, luxurious room.  In the space ahead, they noticed the ever so inviting king size bed, the plush sofa and chair, the fully stocked bar and the beautiful french doors leading to a large balcony.  A newlywed’s dream come true.  A bottle of champagne lay chilling in the icy sterling silver bucket, patiently waiting to be popped open by the love birds.

Tonight would be the night.  The night that would seal their long-awaited union.  The love for each other would finally be expressed in a way it had never been expressed before.  Ah, the thought made her feel a strong desire to be with him at once.  She was ready.  He was happy that she was ready.  Finally, together as one.

As she entered the room, she came to a halt and gasped.  Oh My God.  This could not be happening.  At first, she was not entirely sure of what she was seeing but after a more careful and detailed look, she knew it was true.  The beautiful comforter draped over the luxurious bed which matched perfectly with the flowing drapes outlining the large windows that faced the calm ocean below, were both in fact the same exact fabric and pattern, as the favorite and luxurious bathrobe worn by her mother, every single day.

She felt a sudden rush of blood escaping her head and became light-headed. She had to sit down.  Her mother’s presence was palpable.  Her mother was inside the room. With them.  On their honeymoon.  Vibrantly visible.  She looked at the comforter and could visualize her mother back at home, happily making the family breakfast and smiling, in her bathrobe.  She glanced up at the drapes and there, she saw her mother’s spirit dancing along with the breeze of the ocean, staring down at them, watching them, policing them and making sure no consummation, would take place.

How was she to relax and let him take her into his arms and make love to her for the very first time?  To finally give in to his manly ways and be completely his?  The comforter, the drapes, her peering eyes and her presence.  All there in the room, with them.

You will be happy to know that after the initial shock of feeling her mother’s presence in their suite, they soon relaxed.  The bottle of champagne was popped open and they watched in anticipation as the sparkling foamy and rich liquid erupted and cascaded down the firm bottle and was quickly consumed by both. Mmmm.  It was smooth.  It was rich.  It was perfect.

Twenty four years later, they remain happily married.  Very much in love and consuming many, many bottles of guilt-less, tantalizing champagne.

The Swim to My 50s – Heard it from a friend who, heard it from a friend who, heard it from another you’ve been “messing around”.

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photo by colourbox.com

How is a Catholic girl to blog about s—, you ask?  I know you did not really ask, but I will tell you anyway.  She researches the many euphemisms out there to describe the nasty, without having to actually use the forbidden word.  Oh, believe me, there are endless lists of them, enough to please a whole church filled with sinners who can continue to avoid saying what they actually mean.

As I approach my 50’s, I think about my, dippity doo-da history and what awaits me in the next 50 years of my life.  Truth be told, I was a late bloomer.  Having grown up Catholic and under the direction of a very, very, very (did I say very?) strict Puerto Rican father, bouncing the pogo stick, before marriage, was out of the question.

Interestingly enough (Grrr), this waiting to, dip the wick rule before marriage, did not apply to my two brothers.  Something that did not sit well with my sister and I and the reason for continued therapy.

It is very difficult to re-train your brain and body from believing that, buttering the muffin, is bad, bad, bad, to suddenly feeling that it is ok to enjoy,  feeding the kitty, every night.  The button does not just switch that easily from one day to the next. Often, the button actually stays stuck in one place for a while, until you have to force it to switch with a pair of pliers.

Lucky for me, my switch was not faulty and I have had a very enriched life of, dipping the donut, with my husband throughout our marriage.  I look forward to, hiding the salami, for many years to come.

Doctors and therapists encourage married couples of all ages to continue to, stuff the taco, at least three times a week.  Really?  What happens when your body stops cooperating and you can’t, bury the bone, as often as you would like?

I heard it from a friend who, heard it from a friend, who, heard it from another that there are certain, aids out there to help the aging population, go fishing, more often. But, the same friend who, heard it from a friend who, heard it from another, said that you can only get 4 of these aids per month. Seriously?

Who do the doctors and insurance companies think we are?  Monks?