Once Upon a Time - There Was a Man Named Ben...

I find myself daydreaming about Ben again today.

I can't help but to think what an unstoppable force the two of us would have been.

All the little journals and ideas - laying away late at night scheming and planning.

A true soul mate.

I would have loved to know him when he was young - what a whirlwind romance we would have had.

If you didn't read about my love of Benjamin Franklin a while back, you can do so
here.
A few of you asked how this infatuation came about - and I'm here to fill you in on the love story.

I was 26

He was 283.

I've always liked older men.

I was newly married - and I know it's hard for you to believe this - given the domestic nirvana that I crank out around here on a daily basis....

I hadn't a CLUE how to keep house, cook or anything for that matter.

I could paint my nails reallllly good.

I had good makeup skills.

I was a good sleeper.

I never made a bed until I got married.

For reals.

There was never any clean underwear in the drawer.

Ask Glenco - he'll verify it.

He wore my panties to work one day, after I insisted.

It was a new job - and he got called to go for a physical.

And he had on my panties.

True story.

Meals?

I had two.

Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and green beans or Spaghetti and Meatballs.

And I cooked them while I slammed the pots and pans around mad that "I" had to cook - cause by golly I worked too.

Cleaning?

Ha.

What?

You mean the house isn't self-cleaning?

It seemed so my entire childhood.

Glen reminded me often that I needed to pick up after myself, that my mom didn't live with us.

There was a lot of frustration about the house.

Resentment was there too.

If I wasn't careful - bitterness would be up and knockin' at the door.

I went from the frying pan into the fire when we moved to this ramshackle old house in 1988.

I was undone.

Overwhelmed.

And I wasn't even perimenopausal.

I went from a tiny apartment in the city, with NO yard, to a 140 year old dilapidated farmhouse with three acres.

I NEVER pulled a weed in my life.

It was right about then that I couldn't stop thinking about Benjamin Franklin for some odd reason.

I mean - it was WEIRD.

Finally - I went to the library and checked a few books out about the old boy.

It was within those pages of the ancient text (I know - I'm dramatic), that I found so many practical answers to life.

I was a lazy girl.

I was spoiled.

He was not.

He was industrious, and introspective, and brave and had moxie.

He wasn't afraid of hard work and I was.

And then...it was in those pages of his 'Poor Richards Almanacks' that I fell in love.

I drank him up like a Diet Pepsi on a tired Monday morning.

My heart still skips a beat when I think of the first time I read his daily schedule:

I felt like it was the answer I'd be looking for.

Order.
Schedule.

But not perfection.

That's impossible (just look at my hair for cryin' out loud).

I instituted this schedule and slowly but surely, I started getting my life under control.

(Many people misread this and think he only slept from 1am til 5am - please notice the brackets)

And in that order, I found peace.

And my friends - peace ain't somethin' you can pick up at the Walmarts, so I've been incredibly grateful to Benji F. for the last 20+ years.

I know there are many of you reading this right now, that feel the way I did in 1988, and I just wanted to tell you today that there is hope!

Never give up.

You CAN change your world.

Me and Ben...we'll be here cheering you on.