He gave me a book. I was short with him and he gave me a book. I was determined to ignore him. It wasn’t working. Nobody makes me nervous and nobody fills my stomach with butterflies. Nothing good could possibly come of it. He was too cute, too perfect. When he smiled I felt sick to my stomach. Best to ignore him. Besides the way the security companies do things at work he’d be switched out in a month or so anyway. I didn’t find any solace in that. I talked to him online after he asked for my yahoo id. He wanted to know why I was so hard to get. Because he was perfect, that’s why. On our first date I found out I wasn’t the only one with butterflies, he actually thought he was getting sick. Did I really have that effect on somebody? I know how I was feeling. Nervous. Nauseated. Self conscious. The first time we kissed I felt light headed, dizzy most of the way home. We call it “twitterpated”…I was walking along minding my own business and bam! Twitterpated. He would have asked for my phone number, but I was short with him. Being shy, he asked me if I wanted the book instead and hoped I’d figure it out. So it started with a book (and many more since) and we ended up in love. So much for ignoring him…

...and that was how November ended this year.

Riding in the truck on Friday with my son and my ex-husband, a rare experience itself, my son starts telling us about this amazing guy he saw on Ripley's Believe It or Not. The details are a little hazy coming from 10 year old. What I got from it, and what he was most impressed by, was that the man had been shot in the head, lost part of his skull and not only lived but only suffered minor brain damage. Lucky guy, right. My son starts telling us how they repaired his head thru plastic surgery. Repaired it using plastic. Me and his dad both tried assuring him that they did not use plastic to replace part of the skull, titanium maybe, but plastic definitely not. He insisted they used plastic. Luckily at this point we were sitting at a traffic light. I turned to my son and again explained that I was sure plastic was not involved. Very flustered and very loudly my son shouts "MOMMMM! Duuuuh! Why do you think they call it PLASTIC surgery for???" and then rolls his eyes in a "I can't believe you could be so stupid" sort of way. Of course at this point me and his dad are in a pretty good fit of laughter and he's looking at us like he missed something. Little moments....:)