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Posts Tagged ‘Captain Cavedweller’

“Liar, Liar, pants on fire!”

In the sparkly pink world that exists only in my head, where I prefer to spend a lot of my time, people are honest. People do the right thing. People are honorable and truthful and kind.

Then I get blindsided with reality and it makes me sad. And angry. Really angry.

I can’t tell you how many times over the years I’ve heard my dad say “that’s just not right” in reference to something someone has done that is wrong. I not only inherited his optimistic outlook on things, but also his way of thinking that people should just know right from wrong and do what is right. People should be honest. People should tell the truth.

People lying really gets to me. I can put up with a lot of nonsense, but bold-face lies throw me over the edge every time.

Last week, Captain Cavedweller was in a traffic accident. It wasn’t his fault. He made every effort to get out of the way and prevent the accident from happening. Unfortunately, the other driver did not. The driver apologized, shared their insurance information and went on their merry way.

Now, the other driver is claiming CC ran into them.  Their elaborate fabrication of the truth is nothing like what really happened. In their story, CC was exceeding the speed limit and ran right into them. In truth,  CC saw the vehicle crossing the center line and pulled as far off the road as he could coming to a complete stop, wedged next to a guard rail.

It bothers me the other party is blatantly lying. It annoys me that they are trying to scam the insurance company. It makes me irritated that, because of their falsehoods, we are left short a vehicle that was very much needed at our house.

What makes me livid beyond belief, though, is the fact that they are defaming CC. He is one of the most responsible, careful drivers I know. He is also as honest as the day is long. It make me feel like a mama bear with a cub to protect thinking about the nasty, stupid lies they are telling about CC trying to keep from getting in hot water with their insurance company.

My hope is that they will be proven wrong and the truth will be made known.

She Who Wishes People Would Just Do the Right Thing

(The saying “Liar, Liar” supposedly comes from a poem written in 1810 by William Blake)

“The Liar”
Deceiver, dissembler
Your trousers are alight
From what pole or gallows
Shall they dangle in the night?
When I asked of your career
Why did you have to kick my rear
With that stinking lie of thine
Proclaiming that you owned a mine?When you asked to borrow my stallion
To visit a nearby-moored galleon
How could I ever know that you
Intended only to turn him into glue?

What red devil of mendacity
Grips your soul with such tenacity?
Will one you cruelly shower with lies
Put a pistol ball between your eyes?

What infernal serpent
Has lent you his forked tongue?
From what pit of foul deceit
Are all these whoppers sprung?

Deceiver, dissembler
Your trousers are alight
From what pole or gallows
Do they dangle in the night?

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A couple weeks ago, Captain Cavedweller and I took a week of escape and ventured to a bigger city where there are all kinds of fabulous wonders like shopping malls, IMAX theaters, unlimited dining options, zoos, botanical gardens and did I mention shopping malls?

One day, we wandered through a lovely rose garden and, making CC pack my camera for me wherever we went, I snapped a few shots.

The garden welcomes visitors with this wonderful statue of the woman the rose garden is named after.

 

I don’t know why, but the fountain with the bright blue water fascinated me more than it probably should have.

 

It really is a lovely and well-kept rose garden with fun walkways and interesting landscape elements.

 

And the roses…

were absolutely…

gorgeous!

She Who Could Spend Hours Smelling Roses

 

 

 

 

 

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The other night, Captain Cavedweller and I went out for dinner. After placing our orders, I ran into the restroom to wash my hands only to find a little blond-haired pixie, who couldn’t have been more than 5, standing on her tiptoes splashing in the sink.

She eyed me when I came in and continued flailing water around the sink. Finally, she stretched up and turned off the faucet, pulled out a wad of paper towels and played at drying her hands.

Continuing to keep an eye on me she finally threw her towels in the garbage, put her tiny hands on her hips and gave me a once over.

“You got any bucks?” she asked.

Completely convinced I misheard her, I begged her pardon.

Apparently no one has ever done that before, because she looked at me in confusion.

“I’m sorry,” I said, leaning down  toward her. “I didn’t hear what you said.”

“You got any bucks? You know, money,” the little imp said.

“No, I don’t have any money,” I said, telling the truth since my purse was safely tucked away at the table with CC.

“Are you sure? You better check your pockets,” she said, taking a step forward.

Fearful she might decide to check my pockets for me, I showed her all they contained was some lint.

“Where’s your bucks?” she asked, growing concerned by the fact I didn’t even have a dime on me.

“Back at my table,” I said, wondering what type of parent turned this little robber baron loose in the restroom let alone hadn’t taught her any manners.

“Oh,” she said, then sashayed out the door.

With a sigh of relief that my interrogation had ended, I walked back to our table and informed CC that all the precocious child needed was a boy named Clyde and a get-away tricycle.

She Who Hasn’t Got Any Bucks in Her Pockets

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When I got home last night, I was greeted by these lovely roses.

Captain Cavedweller bought them for me because he was proud of something I accomplished this week. And because he loves me. And because he knows I love roses.

Those of you who know CC, know he does not look like your standard rose-giving guy (whatever that looks like). He’s one of those strong, silent types who would rather watch from the sidelines than be the center of attention.

Which is what makes little gifts, like the beautiful roses last night, extra special. It is because he isn’t a mushy, gushy share-your-feelings kind of guy that makes things like this so sweet and so appreciated. He could easily say “Hey, good job!” But he made that extra effort to make the well-done have more meaning for me.

I write romance novels. Having been a life-long hopeless romantic, I could come up with ideas and inspiration from nothing more than my imagination. But it’s a lot more fun and meaningful when that inspiration comes from my very own romance story.

One that just gets sweeter all the time.

She Who Loves CC

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