Jennifer Juniper

 

Jennifer Juniper lives upon the hill,
Jennifer Juniper, sitting very still.
Is she sleeping ? I don’t think so.
Is she breathing ? Yes, very low.
Whatcha doing, Jennifer, my love ?

Two seeds were planted early in the 1970’s.  One was the name Jennifer, deeply embedded in my husband’s mind after we went to see Summer of ’42 starring Jennifer O’Neill. 
The second seed?  Well, that turned out to be our own Jennifer, born that year, early one winter morning.

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It was a cold, half-snowy, mostly slushy Friday when I awoke to labor pains that were hard to ignore and rumbling in at about three minutes apart.  A quick call to the doctor and we left in a frantic rush for the hospital.  Upon arriving, I was quickly ushered away to one of the labor rooms as my spouse made a dash for the cafeteria. 
Actually, it was more like an escape. 
Natural Childbirth wasn’t an option back then, at least not in our hospital, and husbands were kept at bay…or in the cafeteria. 
Nope, it was roll them in, dope them up and get that baby delivered.
 
                                     

                                                                     

Years later, my husband still moans about the big breakfast he wasn’t able to enjoy, cursing the hospital staff every time he talks about it.  He still recalls that as I departed for the labor room that morning, one of the nurses told him it will probably be hours before anything happens, so go eat, relax, we’ll call for you when your baby arrives.  And, on that note, he stopped to make a few phone calls, go to the little boy’s room and then the cafeteria where he ordered 4 eggs over easy, bacon, toast, juice and coffee…just to tide him over and help keep up his strength, of course.
 
The very moment that the breakfast of champions was set down in front of his starving gaze, the call came through for the new daddy to head back to the delivery area to meet his first born child.  Focusing through drug-induced foggy eyes, I looked up to see my husband standing by my bed and he was mumbling something about Jennifer being here.
 
Jennifer? 
 
As he got to see her first, that right was assumed, as lord and master of his kingdom, to immediately bestow a name upon her.  Of course, I then had to endure the heartbreaking tale of his missed breakfast because those &*#%* nurses obviously didn’t realize that his daughter was in a hurry to be born.  His sob story about food deprivation was the next, most important, issue on his agenda that day.
 
I grabbed hold of my mental violin and started playing.
 
But, Jennifer had indeed arrived and the name fit her perfectly.  Her father even had a favorite Donovan song that he loved singing to her, one that would become the song they danced to at her wedding years later.
 

Today, I celebrate my oldest daughter and all that she has become; a wonderful wife, loving mother, dedicated high school Principal and presently, COVID Commander for her school district in Florida.  I am beyond proud of her accomplishments, as I am with all my children. 

Someday, I’ll share stories of… Jen, the Great Toyota Arsonist, Jen the Hapless Horseback Rider and Jen’s Magnificent Christmas Tree Caper.

For now, I’ll just wish her the Happiest of Birthdays!!

Jen-shades        

Jennifer Juniper, rides a dappled mare,
Jennifer Juniper, lilacs in her hair.
Is she dreaming ? Yes, I think so.
Is she pretty ? Yes, ever so.
Whatcha doing, Jennifer, my love ?
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Sayin’ NO to V.D.!

Big Ben doesn’t run with as much accuracy as my spouse.  The man is predictable as fog in San Francisco.

Why then am I surprised that, on one more Valentine’s Day, his usual remark of “oh, I forgot what today was” still managed to piss me off, big time?

Come ON now!  Like, for weeks, the dayum syrupy commercials haven’t been running their sickening sweetness over radio and television, hawking every idiotic piece of cheap jewelry that some celebrity put her name to…like this one?

Sorry, to me it looks like tiny boobs and a big butt hanging from a chain.

Bitter?  Moi?  Nah…just annoyed that, after all these years together, nothing really has changed with the man.  Sure, there are obligatory flowers once in a while along with a complaint about how much they cost, especially after I cut some very long-stemmed roses to fit into a vase and he commented that he could have spent less on shorter roses had he known I was going to hack half of them off.

Hey, I’m not looking for sympathy here, just venting.  It’s a carry-over from a major dispute over the week-end about gloves that HE misplaced, forgot about, and blamed me.  Most men would be looking to smooth things over, especially with Cupid’s arrival today but not His Hineyness and from where the second Virgo sits in this relationship, Hell will freeze over before I make any move to forgive, forget, and buy him a card or some candy.

For everyone else who isn’t married to someone who views any occasion as a Hallmark-generated holiday,  I hope you have a fabulous day and evening with the love of your life.  Truly, I do.

workshop-button-1From Mama Kat’s Writers Workshop… Write about a memorable Valentine’s Day.

I cheated a bit here.  I mean, why not share this again, regardless if there have been at least a few notable Valentine’s Day memories?

Seriously though, after 52+ years of being together, nothing much has changed since I first wrote this, oh so many years ago, in 2011.  As far as Valentine’s Day, no celebratory activities will be on the table and I’m long over trying to change, even soften, his sarcastic outlook.  Maybe he’s right, after all, the scenario that surrounds VDay which has a small, fat, toddler pointing a weapon in an attempt to share some love kind of sends a mixed message.  It’s way more important to shower love on every other day of the year, whenever possible, something we often overlook or…take for granted.

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Silent, Smiley Sunday!

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