Monthly Archives: December 2012

Look, Love! There, up ahead . . .
Nah, that can’t be Mr. St. Nick,
Do me a favor and grab the camera behind you
Maybe he’ll allow us a snapshot quick,

Wait a minute, wait, that’s not Santa!
A disguised impostor . . . is that Mr. Grinch?!
Hey, pal, you got no business in these parts!
Wouldn’t you know it, dude didn’t even flinch,

Hold on to my arm, babygirl, I’m puttin’
this badboy in third gear,
We’ll pull up alongside his clunker
I wanna make certain he can hear,

Hey, fella, I said you’ve no business in these parts
Especially during this holiday season,
It’s time for love and from-the-heart giving
Generosity without need of reason,

“Pardon me, bud, but may I suggest that
I’m really not your concern,
But if you must, my sleigh has just been emptied
of all the stolen gifts I’ve returned . . .

“. . . not only did I take what didn’t belong to me
Along the way I lost my soul,
And the woman I loved and wanted to impress
She abandoned me at the North Pole . . .

” . . . left me, she did, and turned away my gifts
when she learned of my wickedly selfish sins,
My ugliness inside had spread to my outside
Alas, I lost all my friends . . .

” . . . So my advice to you and the beautiful woman,
there, nestled by your side,
Share and bask in your sacred mirth
And may true caring be your guide,”

Wow, what a moving story, eh, Love?
Perhaps he’ll get a second chance,
Fortunate I am this holiday season
For the gift of your romance.

***
Romance lives. -Rg2

© 2012 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

Vocals: Natalie and Diana: What could be better?

I’m taking two Christmasweeks in your name
Yes, I’ll be shutting it down,
To share each holiday moment with you
Are you ready to paint the town?

Slip on your red dress, stilettos select
We’re on for the Pasadena Playhouse,
The Chocolate Nutcracker awaits our company
Your head on my shoulder will rouse

The St. Nicholas heart lain restless in me
from the beginning of our Autumn Romance,
I’ll let you choose the fresh-cut tree
The most fragrant deserves the chance

The Fraser Fir appears to’ve taken your eye
Love, I’m totally in agreement,
I’ll gather winterberry and hand-picked cones
We’ll revel in your creative achievement

So interior décor flows natural in you?
Sure, have at it, do tickle your fancy,
Let me know if it’s straight while I tighten the screws
I don’t want to be too chancy

With this sensually sweet holiday endeavor
we’ve indulged like first-Christmas lovers,
I’m in love with you, girl, there, the gift’s unwrapped
I don’t much care about the others . . .

. . . those trinkets and the latest gotta-have-things
requiring a hope-he-likes-this purchase,
Let others enhance the merchants’ coffers
Much deeper and tender are my urges

A spontaneous come-with-me to See’s chocolate factory
You’ll sample the first luscious bite,
Then on to see the candy caners in action
We’ll take with us the flavors you delight

Now, that’s only the start of my pamper-her list
and Rudolph is several miles away,
But it’s beginning to feel like love is in the air
and Santa sent a message to convey:

“Don’t procrastinate, young man, in giving the woman
a hint of what’s in store . . .”
It’s Pamper-Her-Friday of the holiday season
I promise you there’s so much more . . .

. . . awaiting us, Love.

***
It’s beginning to look a lot like . . . Romance. -Rg2

© 2012 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

My father died at 28; my mother, at the time, was carrying me. Tragic. Never saw him breathing, walking, building, chastising, guiding, laughing. Loving. God, I never saw my father love my mother–both in words and touch. I shed tears as I write this because.

But–‘but’ being the operative word here–when I watch my mother reminisce on time past, her eyes rivet speaking of him. When 2 a.m. came and my sister was crying in her cradle, he’d tell mother, “Stay put, I’ll get her.” My mother lay in bed, exhausted from the relentlessness of the day, while he would calm and cuddle my sister. And this wasn’t a one-off event; he was faithful in his dedication.

I never saw it. Jesus Christ, I never saw it. Never saw him touch and comfort what he’d helped give life to. Touch. Just imagine, if he’d touched my sister tenderly enough to tide her 2 a.m. tears, just imagine what his touch meant to my mother.

Can a man be fatherly–yet instinctively mother-like? Especially when the occasion requires the duality?

I shed tears as I write this.

Not necessarily of sadness, tears. But inherited tears. Bequeathed tears from a man, for a man, who didn’t know, instructively, what he was doing, but did it perhaps better, more giftedly, more naturally, more tenderly than most men born to this life.

I’m not sure who taught him. I don’t know who taught him. Perhaps his father, his grandfather, an uncle, a friend’s father. His mother? Maybe he saw what the right touch elicited from his own mother, what her eyes revealed when she spoke of a certain gentleman, a certain tenderman, or perhaps a toughman who’d lost his share of good women and learned–through trial, error, and redemption–that touch is of utmost importance to woman-treating.

Touch is vital.

I never saw my father touch my mother. But, I swear, her eyes, in reminiscence, educate and inform me like no photo or book or letter or oral confession can nor ever will. My father was a touch artist of the highest order. Did he know it? Did my mother know it at the time, while he still walked this earth? Or did it become so strikingly evident only “after” God called him home?

When my trademark lawyer asked me why I wanted to trademark Pamper-Her-Friday–he seemed to assign no intrinsic value or human power to my intent–I said simply:

‘For my father.’

He fell deafly silent and lowered his eyes in a moment of conscious misunderstanding, but when he returned his gaze to me, I knew, we knew, what the meaning was. Its eternal power.

Perhaps he had a father, similar. It’s powerful–touch.

I wanna touch you tonight. On this occasion of Pamper-Her-Friday.
In honor of my father. For my father. And mother. My mother and father.

I wasn’t taught how to touch a woman.

But I was bequeathed the knowledge. The innate tenderness.

Yes, I’m dysfunctional. Forgive me my dysfunction. But let me hold you tonight to make up for the lacking.

It’s Pamper-Her-Friday. I want to hold you. I wanna touch you. Like no one else is capable.

I want to share my inheritance.

With you and no one else.

Tonight. And evermore.

All My Love,
Rg2

***
The truest, most timeless meaning of pampering. -Rg2

© 2012 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®