Monthly Archives: December 2013

image: The incomparable Alexandra Lauren Silva

“Alexandra the Great”

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What began as a harmless poke
revealed the woman as a genius stroke . . .

Alexandra Lauren Silva:
Creative Expressionist and Entrepreneur,
Her life? A multi-faceted spiritual odyssey
I was intrigued to take a tour

Owner of ALS Productions and co-owner|creative director of
Green Health Technologies,
A server of the people, a financial literacy sharer
Tell us more, Alexandra, please:

“I’m a strong believer in actively practicing the concept of ‘learning and growing’ as a human being by acquiring universal knowledge, exploring, and having as many experiences in life as possible,” says Ms. Silva. “I surround myself with like-minded people and those that inspire me, resulting in being an inspiration to others. I participate and enjoy growing in spirituality and serving others, being silly and goofy, making light of any situation, connecting with people from all walks of life, cooking, health, wellness and fitness.”

Alexandra strives to expand and perfect her talents and skills within the arts, including modeling, photography, graphic design, video production, creative writing, vocals, music, dance, crafts, drawing and painting.

Alexandra, deservedly, is this Pamper-Her-Friday’s designated ‘Pamperee’ for her uplifting spirit and commendable work toward enhancing the quality of life for others.

Connect with Alexandra at: http://www.GreenHealthTechnologies.com/.
And at https://www.facebook.com/AlexandraLSilvaProductions.

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“By the grace of God, my goal is to assist this planet and help end unnecessary death, poverty and pollution.”  –ALS

© 2013 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

image: © rsusanto

Noel Amore, Calif.–1:49 p.m., Christmas:

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I made a little wager with the legend Kris Kringle:
Who could reach you faster–his sled or my motorcar,
The winner would make your warm heart tingle
My gas pedal’s maxed to the floor by far

You know what a second-place contestant is?
He’s simply ‘the first man to lose,’
Though Santa has the advantage of flight–gee whiz
I’m steady at the wheel, the control’s on cruise

You see, I want to be safe and sure this holiday season
To make it to your arms in one lovable piece,
Romance is my motivation if for no other reason
I wanna win your love eternal; Kringle wants to lease

Sure, he’ll flaunt little Rudolph’s shiny red nose
and present a gift or two, a worthy attempt
But I intend to give well past his yuletide greetings
A temporary Christmas fling? Woman, I’m exempt

I want much more than wrapping strewn on the floor
and the quiet letdown of Christmas’s final hour,
I’m bringing mistletoes for more than one door
This romance we share, my, how I respect its power

Now, come, have a sip of this creamy smooth nog
While you’re at it have a few sips of me,
Ah, woman, drink till your little heart’s content
Now which gift would you like to open first? Let’s see

Hmm, you want the big one, can’t contain your glee
But so too do big things come in tiny sizes,
That one there, at the rear of the tree?
By all means . . . a woman just loves surprises

But wait, Love, hold on just a spell
Can we take a moment beneath the door?
Now close your eyes, sugarplum, I won’t tell
It promises to be more magical than before

Dang, girl, your lips are so utterly tender
Mmmm, au naturale, no botox there,
Goodness, Love, I’m on the verge of total surrender
Such passionate kisses are oh so rare

Kris Kringle got his milk and cookies, sure enough
But you’re my Christmas, all in my world is right,
Romance is stirring all through the house
On this very special kiss-and-cuddle night.

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Merry Christmas, Love. -Rg2

© 2013 Romance by Rg2®

Romance Cottage, Calif.–10:33 p.m., Pamper-Her-Friday:

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What we have is strong and tender . . . hold on
I’m feeling Sade at Christmastime
If God perched you atop the highest mountain
I swear, woman, I’m ready to climb

I’ve got my gifts-satchel slung over my shoulder
The snowfall is trying to discourage me,
My prayer to the heavens: ‘I just want to hold her’
A higher romance this must be

This journey to you I’ll see it through
My jagged edges are like the mountain’s side,
Only you can smooth my ridges, true
I need a woman in whom I can confide

My deepest Christmas wishes are far from material
Neither of us can purchase what we feel,
Groupon? No; Burberry? No; Amazon? No . . .
I’m in need of something mo’ betta, mo’ real

Like, I’ll be the tree, you be the ornaments
We’ll both be the precious water at the base,
Let’s get this love temperature just right
Not one gumdrop of romance will we waste

You see, so very many are going without
at this most philanthropic time of year,
But I’ve got my priorities in order
Having you in my arms is what I hold dear

Have you ever heard of sledding uphill?
It’s an endeavor of a man out of his mind,
Call me crazy, insane may be even more apt
But I consider you the ultimate find

Can I unwrap you, girl? Can I clap for you, girl
like a standing ovation at a holiday play?
You’re the grantor and I the grantee
My lone gift wish come true, as we lay

By the log fire I’m in need of the entire
embodiment of romance in your eyes,
I’m nearing the peak of the mountain
And I’m shedding the St. Nicholas disguise

I’ve weathered the storm; can I keep you warm
My winter cottage awaits us–what do you say?
It’s the 20th day of Christmas, Love
I’m a little early . . . because it’s Pamper-Her-Friday.

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Unwrap her heart and pamper the woman. -Rg2

© 2013 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

“Snuggle and Strudel”

Brrrrr, it’s cold, babygirl, come just a little closer
Ready for a holiday treat fresh from the oven toaster?
Cinnamon apple strudel–hand made–but I’m no boaster
That Santa-believing little girl in you, can I host her?

I mean, gosh, what’s the point of being a grown-up
if you can’t sometimes be a kid?
Your stocking was empty last year, prior to me
I had a talk with St. Nick, um hum, I did

I said something like, ‘Look here, big fella . . .
there’s a woman dear to me on the verge of disbelief . . .
could you possibly make a reindeer stop on the west coast . . .
no matter how late or brief?’

Now, bribe the Ol’ Jolly One, I did not
Absolutely no mention of a quid pro quo,
He rattled off the address like a seasoned mapmaker
Wow, how on earth did he know?

Beats me, but no wonder Mrs. Claus has never left his side
come rain, sleet, hail or snow,
Word has it that Santa was once a multi-lady player
But laying eyes on the Mrs., she simply stole the show

His player’s card was immediately revoked
The woman rendered it null and void,
Santa went soft, a big ol’ teddypolar bear
And the elves were more than a little annoyed

“She’s gonna take him away,” they feared
But no thought was further from the truth,
the Mrs. had the most inviting spirit
the perfect treat for the collective sweet tooth

Made him a better man, the lady surely did
And he’s been spreading cheer ever since,
Yep, credit the love of a special woman
I’m one you don’t have to convince

I’m a believer, yes sir, I’m all in
Now come take a bite of my strudel,
I wanna whisper something in your ear, girl
A carol, a jingle and a watchamadoodle

Let’s get this holiday party started . . . .

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Snuggle. Strudel. Doodle. Romance. -Rg2

© 2013 Romance by Rg2®

image: by krissi

Kindling Peak, Calif.–Dusk

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The love of a good woman can transform a city boy
into the most efficient lumberjack,
Here, let me take your bags, sit down awhile
I know you’re eager to unpack

I’ve missed you with a single passion
The way that Linda pines for Roy,
Nights penning romance in solitude
Bereft of your warmth, I’ve played it coy

Much too long this modern-night Cyrano
Writing lyrics into the dark,
Your photo etched onto my monitor
Now that you’re here, the contrast is stark

There are no words, you need say nothing
Let me wrap you in the throw,
Snowfall has begun its second pour
I’ll turn the lanterns gently low

And add kindling to the fire
just enough for a mesmerizing rage,
Rest your palm in mine, how does it feel?
Your emotional temperature I can gauge

Home is where the hearth gives, the heart lives
I’m committed to keeping you intimately warm,
What is the true meaning of the holiday . . .
if not shelter from the storm?

Noah built the ark in anticipation
And I? I chopped away like a lumberjack,
Close your eyes and just be still with me
We’ll wait ’til morning to unpack

Love, it’s welcome time, so seldom is time
as sacred as this yuletide season,
I’m among the most fortunate men
For in my arms lay the reason . . . .

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The ultimate gift. Romance. -Rg2

© 2013 Romance by Rg2®

PRIVATE URGENT MEMO TO: Santa

FROM: Rg2

RE: The Goddess Wish List

I need a goddess tonight. A pure, unadulterated, part-myth/part-legend, brownest-eyes/warmest-thighs, take-me-as-you-want-me goddess. Tonight.

Not a lawyer. Not an award-winning pharmaceutical salesgirl. Not a political candidate with a feminist agenda. Not an internet viral sensation who peters out when followers drift away to the next silly thing. Not a school-board member. Not a singing-show contestant or reality-show diva.

I need a highly vulnerable goddess tonight. I need a vulnerable-’cause-I’m-tired-of-being-courageous goddess tonight. A do-what-you-will-because-I-trust-you goddess. Tonight.

No, not a banker. Not a corporate financier. Not a state or county employee with decent benefits. Not a liberal-leaning social-media-network founder. Not a fashionista or cosmetics entrepreneur. No hair care professional.

I need a soft-spoken, thought-provoking goddess tonight. A fragrant, shoulder-baring, all-caution-to-the-wind enchantress who’s not trying to be–just is, tonight. A perch-on-my-chest-and-prepare-for-the-best tender love. Tonight. A goddess.

Not a nurse. Not a school teacher or higher educator. Not a health nutritionist or marine biologist. Not a global-warming expert or international negotiator of treaties and trade agreements. Not a nonprofit professional. Not an athlete of any notoriety. No, not a celebrity.

A goddess. Damn. A goddess. Tonight.

Not a photographer or photojournalist. Not a poetess with a large following (the smaller, the better). Not a computer-code writer or fiction/nonfiction author. Not a venture capitalist. Not a flight attendant. Not a real-estate professional. Not a cupcake bakery owner nor a fast-food franchisee nor a five-star restaurateur.

Goddess, my need. Tonight.

A wrap-her-legs-around-me, curl-her-arms-about-me surrenderess needing to feel little-girled because the week-long fight for respect, appreciation, equal pay, and adulation is back-breaking, spirit-taking. And replenishment and nourishment and restoration are crucial. Tonight.

I need a woman who wants to feel like, be imbued like, be fueled like, be elevated and ameliorated like . . . a goddess. Healed like . . .

. . . a goddess. Tonight.

I need a I-need-you-to-make-me-feel-special-because-the-world-really-doesn’t-give-a-damn-about-me care-seeker. Tonight.

I need an eager-to-watch-me-decorate-the-tree-and-maybe-hook-a-few-ornaments-herself-while-we-sip-on-Christian Bros.-laced-eggnog goddess. Tonight.

I don’t need a woman. I’m not needing a lady or girl next door. I’m not in need of a “title-” or “status-” or “salary-” preoccupied friendgirl. No half-in, half-out, can’t-mess-up-my-hair prude who must maintain decorum and a semblance of control.

But a my-hands-no-longer-tied, emotions-no-longer-denied goddess, the need.

I need a lover of the holiday season–just because. A sip-and-exhale-all-through-the-night affectionist. A your-hands-are-the-supreme-gift-a-woman-can-receive intimacist.

I need a goddess in need of pampering.

Tonight.

Come, goddess.

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What’s on your wish list? -Rg2

© 2013 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

Sprinkle Snow Valley, Calif.–5:59 p.m., Pamper-Her-Friday:

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My Love,

Who cares if there’s a blizzard outside.

Well, I guess that’s a rather heartless statement, eh? Of course I care that we’re snowed in. But, I planned accordingly, Love.

I’ve always taken pleasure in the little things, as you know. Where others require the most modern accoutrements of cavernous living quarters, the trappings of recent technology and electronica, and the decadence of exquisite food and drink, I ask only the nearness of you.

I read this quote today: “One brownie makes you happy, a second brownie, maybe a little more. The third brownie doesn’t make us happy at all, and the fourth brownie makes us sick.”

Moderation. Too little of a good thing leaves us wanting. Too much of a good thing makes us . . . well, you get the gist.

But what of romance? Too little certainly leaves us craving. Too much? Well, I’m not sure there’s such a thing as too much romance. I mean, it’s one of the most scarce resources in the human world, no?

Think a moment, if you ask anyone on the street, randomly, “Did you get too much romance today?” I’m willing to wager you won’t get one taker. Not a one. (Lol!).

It’s what you make it, romance. My mother today showed me my father’s Canadian social insurance card (the U.S. equivalent of a SS card) and a quiet overtook the room. I was mesmerized by his signature; I swear, it looked hauntingly like my own. The “R” and the “G” I could have virtually lifted from his script, it was so nearly identical.

She’s kept it in immaculate condition, all these years. Preservation. A guardian of a love still evident, even after his passing four decades ago.
She handled it like a museum curator of a Picasso original.

I said, “You’re still in love with him, aren’t you?” She turned away but not before breaking a guilty smile and began walking away. I called out, laughingly, “Come here, woman! Don’t walk away when I’m talking to you . . . .”

My sisters and I giggled in chorus. It’s our “family truth.” A life-affirming common thread among us that keeps us anchored, keeps us secure in one another, keeps us firmly aware that how you treat another can have life-long impact. Especially when done right.

It’s the little things that truly matter.

We lost Mandela today. “Madiba no longer belongs to us, he belongs to the ages,” Obama said.

Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela was a romantic. He took nothing for granted: Life; Air; Freedom; Love; Democracy; Family; . . . Romance.

This quiet yet invincible dignity that lived in the man inspires me like nothing much else. Tonight especially.

Why? Because we’re snowed in. Like Mandela was “jailed in.” But just as Africa’s Father saw paradise beyond the iron bars, I see the waist-high snow as no less than a gift from the heavens.

Why?

We’re confined to one another . . . with a fire, a pot chockful of simmering tender veggie-with-fresh-poultry viddles, warm berry cobbler, and piping hot beverages of your choice: cream or cider. Oh, and how about some Nat King Cole and Kem on the Bose–for good measure?

The nearness of you is all I want on this oh-so-cold-outside but so-very-cozy-inside start to our weekend.

It’s Pamper-Her-Friday, Love.

Is there anything else I can get you while I’m at it?
Just Because,
Rg2

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For Mandela.
For Roy Greer Sr.
For Romance. -Rg2

© 2013 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®