Love Happens. So does Lord Stanley.

It does happen. I love love --- and I believe in it. But I sometimes forget that it's attainable for me. It's like the Stanley Cup. That shiny chalice represents so much more than just the final score ... it's the teamwork, the dedication, the long, hard road it was to get there .... blood (well... maybe not), sweat and tears are required to win that thing. But when you do, it's all worth it.

Love's the same way. It happens. It does.

Just like those names forever etched into that cup, each love will always be in your heart. Even if you don't win the Cup every year.

The Kiwi

It's probably too early to write about him. Tonight marks only two weeks since we met. Why, then, does it seem like I've known him for a year. Because it's been so perfect. We connected instantly --- which was odd, considering neither of us ever thought a casual walk by the lake with our dogs would be much more than just that. That night turned into every night. And every night was perfect.... enjoying evenings on the back patio, talking and dreaming and planning and being amazed at how well things were going. We kept saying that it had to slow down, that we were going to burn ourselves out ... but we couldn't even manage one night apart. We agreed, there aren't any rules when it comes to this type of connection. 14 blissful nights and days ---- all because his first kiss made me dizzy. He's from New Zealand and has that accent that makes my heart melt, plus he's a baldie ... and I love that too. Our happy little fortnight of a relationship was so deep, so fast. And the closer we got to each other, the more we each panicked. Until we both panicked enough and had to make it stop. It couldn't be this good. Something must be wrong. We're gonna have to slow down. I was in shock that night. How could I be in such shock after such a short time? He needs space. We're both afraid to let the other have space ... but we both know it's a must if we're going to make it forever. Time is good, he says. I hope it is. Plans to see each other in three weeks. We're going to play golf.

I hope he's worth the wait. (he is)

I hope he'll see that I'm worth the wait too. (i think he will)

The Doctor Looks at Percentages

He says I'm 100 percent.

And he says she's 75 percent, maybe 80.

He wants the 100 percent.

But wonders, does 100 percent really exist?

Can your head see the 100 percent and your heart not? Is it still ok to follow your heart? Even if the percentages are bad? In baseball, .800 batting average helps put a lot of Ws in the win column. Because someone who hits an .800 is gonna be a star. No one's ever gonna bat a thousand.

Sigh. He is a baseball guy after all. In his eyes, he's going to go with 80.

No matter how much he dreams about me or how much he loves our kisses.