Marry Me



Logan stands up, moves to the side of the table, then bends down on one knee.  “Lana, will you marry me?”  He looks up at me with big eyes and a tentative smile.

I gasp.  Breathe!  I tell myself, which is silly, because we’re already engaged.  After all, I made a playdough ring and he said yes.  To be nervous now is just…

Wow!  The ring is EXACTLY WHAT I WANTED!!  “How did you know?” I whisper.

He smiles, and I understand.

Last Week

Dixie puts a magazine in front of me and points at the ring.  “Lana, what do you think about this one?” she asks.

I scrutinize the picture.  “It’s too…I don’t know…round,” I say, and flip through the pages of the Bride magazine; one of many that my friend had brought to my house to peruse.  “There, that’s more like it,” I tell her, pointing to a marquis cut diamond.  “But I think I’d rather have a ruby.  It’s my birthstone, and I like it better than a traditional diamond.”

“Are you sure?  Doesn’t every girl dream of a princess-cut diamond?” Dixie asks, practically drooling over a picture of a traditional engagement ring.

I shrug.  “I want the whole proposal down on one knee in a restaurant, but I’m not getting that, am I?  So why should I want a traditional ring?  Mom hated hers; it caught on clothes and stuff, and she lost the stone once and had to have it replaced.  No, a nice, low-profile marquis cut is more my style.”

Dixie holds up a picture of a marquis-cut diamond surrounded by smaller diamonds, with baguettes down the side.  “There!  Whatcha think about that one?”

My turn to drool!  “It’s perfect!  Except…”

“I know,” Dixie finishes for me, “a ruby.”

“You know Logan can’t afford that.  Between his divorce and his student loans, he’s barely able to pay rent,” I remind her.

“A girl can dream,” Dixie says.  “And I still say that diamonds are a girl’s best friend!”

“Wasn’t that a Marilyn Monroe movie?” I ask.

Dixie winks at me.  “Yes, and it’s still true!”

Present Day

“You used Dixie to find out what kind of ring I wanted!” I say.

Logan smiled, a dazzling smile that almost knocked me off my seat.  Damn, he’s handsome when he does that.  “Yes,” he replied.

“How did you pay for this?” I asked with wide eyes.

“I had some money put away for a special occasion, and nothing is more special than this,” he admitted.  “Now, my legs are starting to cramp.  Would you please answer the question?”

“Yes!” I say.  “Yes, yes, yes!”

Clapping erupts around us as Logan stands.  I jump, not realizing that the entire restaurant had been watching and holding their breaths.  A couple of ladies come over to admire my new ring as Logan slips it on my finger.

“A perfect fit!” I say, then remember how Dixie had tried on my rings the week before.  “Dixie is a tricksey minx!”

Logan and I laugh together, then he pulls me into his arms for a kiss.  The lapels of his suit jacket are stiff and I have limited movement in my strapless dress, but we manage to inspire another round of applause.  I pull away, a little embarrassed to have an audience.

As we settle back down to finish dessert, Logan informs me, “I’m going to propose again on a mountain, because I know how much you love to hike.  But don’t expect another ring!”

I smile, touched.  “I would love that.”

“And then I’m going to propose to you again, on a boat, because that’s my favorite spot.  And I’m going to spoil you, so that you know how much I love you, so that I know you’ll always say yes,” Logan says.

I blink back the tears (happy ones) as I whisper, “Yes.  Yes, I always will.”



This work of fiction was requested by Sally Ann, by lovely daughter, as an alternate ending to How I Met Your Father.  This is how I would have preferred to be proposed to; in reality, we went to the jewelry store and I bought my own ring.

Do you follow me on Facebook or Instagram?  If so, you were privy to the pictures of bacon which looked suspiciously like male body parts.  If not, follow me!  It’s free, and I guarantee to make you giggle at least once a year.  😉


The Wedding (ch. 19) and Expecting (ch. 20)


“Why do you get a Best Man, but I don’t get a Best Woman?” I said.  “Dixie is going to be my Best Woman.  After all, she was there for our first real date—not counting bowling—so she ought to be part of the wedding party.”

“Wait, if boot scootin’ was our first date, then does that mean that bowling doesn’t count at all?  Then we didn’t meet on a blind date?” Logan asks playfully.

I sigh.  “We met on a blind date, just like my parents and grandparents,” I clarify.  “But we really didn’t start DATING until months later.  Don’t you think?”

Logan smiles and pulls me close for a kiss.  “Yes, dear,” he says.

“That’s right, you practice saying that,” I say with a smile.

“Is your dad going to walk you down the aisle?” he asks.

“Yes.  I was so nervous when I asked him—this being my second wedding and all—but he said, Whatever makes you happy.  Isn’t that awesome?” I say, smiling wider.  “Oh!  And he’s going to wear his Air Force uniform with all his medals!”

“He’s a good man,” Logan says, kissing me again.

“Stop it!” I say, pushing him away.  “The preacher will be here any minute for the rehearsal.”

“Hey, you’d better be nice to me!  I found Our Song, and I’ll only tell you if you quit abusing me,” he says.

“Oh, tell me tell me tell me!” I say, jumping up and down.  “We’ve only been looking for one for FOREVER!”

“Donna Lewis – I love you, always forever,” Logan says, and kisses me again, before God and everybody.



Dixie was my Best Woman.





Chapter 20 ~ Expecting


“You can only have boys or girls,” Betty Jo tells me.  “I had 3 boys.  My other son has 3 girls.  That’s how it works in our family: you can have one or the other, but not both.”

I laugh.  “My mother had two boys.  Then she told my father, I want a little girl born on my birthday.  Here I am, born just three days after her 30th birthday!”  I rub my pregnant belly.  “Logan and I ordered a little girl, so that our boys would have a little sister.  Mark my words, she is a girl.”

“Have you picked out a name yet?” Betty Jo asks.

“No, I want something that starts with a J, so that we can have Lana and Logan and Jack and Jill?  Not Jill, but something that starts with a J, so that we have the alliteration.  Jasmine is my favorite, because then we can call her Jazzy, but Logan thinks that sounds like a Disney princess.  I want something uncommon; there were always 5 Lana’s in every class at school, I want our little girl to have a more unique name.”

“Sally,” Logan answers.  “I already talked to Lana’s mom and Dixie, and they’re both on board.”

“WHAT?!” I shriek.  “No!  Sally is waaaaay too common a name.  And it doesn’t start with J!”

“What about the middle name?” Betty Jo asks, ignoring me.

“Sally Ann Westmoreland,” he answers.

“Um, no.  If her first name MUST be Sally—and I’m not sure that it will be—then her middle name should be Marie.  Sally Marie Westmoreland just sounds better,” I announce.  “Her initials will be SMW.  That’s an awesome, powerful set of initials.”

“Sally Ann Westmoreland has a nice ring to it,” Betty Jo tells her son.  “I like it.”

“SAW?  Her initials will be a tool?” I ask.

“Like, I saw you standing over there, and you’re beautiful!” Logan answers with a smile.

I huff and fold my arms.  I give him my meanest, We’ll Discuss This Later, look, but he ignores me.

“Hey, Little Girl!  Your parents met in a strip club!” Logan tells her.

“Stop!” I say, and push him.  “Don’t teach her that!”

He laughs and continues, ignoring me, “And your Mom gets very jealous when she sees me with other women.” Sly smile.  “Because she loves me very much.  And I love her, too.”

And we all live happily ever after.



How I Met Your Father” is the fictionalized account of how I met and fell in love with my second husband.  I wrote it to remember what it’s like to be in a good relationship and fall in love; and I wrote it for Jack and Sally, so that they can remember how they are very much loved.  ❤



Playdough Proposal: Playing For Keeps


Jack and Ted, 18 months old

Jack and I pull out the playdough and tools: extrusion devices, rolling pins, cutters, and cookie cutters.  A knock at the door interrupts us.


This is ch. 18 in How I Met Your Father.  For Chapter 1, click here.


I open it to see—who else?—my boyfriend Logan.

“Care to join us?” I ask him with a smile, gesturing to the coffee table where the toys rested.

“Sure,” he says, sitting down on the couch and picking up a canister of dough.

I shut the door and sit on the floor between Logan and Jack.  I show the child how to make a ball by rubbing the dough between parallel, rotating hands.  Then I make a snake, by moving my flat hands back and forth.  Finally, I connect the ends of the “snake” to make a ring.


Ch18_Playdough Ring2

“Logan, will you marry me?” I ask, sliding the ring on his finger.

Logan almost faints.  “Yes,” he said, and kisses me passionately.  “Oh, damn, the ring fell off!  Quick, make me a new one!”

I laugh nervously.  He sure is taking this game seriously.  So I do the logical thing: I get a keep-tie from the kitchen drawer and twist it into a ring.  “Here, this one will last longer,” I tell him.

Solemnly, he slips it on his hand.

Laughing, I say, “You’re not really going to wear that, are you?!”

“Yes I am, until the day that we get married.  Lana, I was going to propose to you, but I’ve been nervous that…well, your first marriage—really, our first marriages—didn’t go well.  So I wasn’t sure that you’d even want to get married again.  Heck, I was nervous about asking you to get an apartment with me—I know how much you value your independence, and how well you’ve been doing on your own.  Yes, I’ll wear a keep-tie on my finger, if that means that you’ll marry me one day,” Logan says.

My eyes fill up with tears.  I wore cut off blue jean shorts and a wrinkled blue t-shirt, with my messy hair in a ponytail and without shoes or makeup.  Logan was dressed similarly, but he had shoes and socks on, at least.  This was not how I expected a marriage proposal to happen.

I run to my bedroom and return with one of my favorite rings, a silver one with a heart flanked by two flowers.  “Here, wear this—it will last longer than the keep-tie.  That thing would fall apart after a couple of showers,” I tell him.

He takes the ring and puts it on his pinky finger; it barely fits.

“Are you really going to wear that until we get married?” I ask skeptically.  “What if it takes a year to plan the wedding?”  Or what if I get cold feet and we just stay engaged for a while? I think but don’t say.

“If anyone says anything to me, or tries to laugh at me, I’ll just pull out a picture of you and say, ‘Hey, look!  This gorgeous 20-year-old woman wants to marry me.’  That’ll shut ‘em up,” Logan says, and kisses me again.

Jack hits my leg and says, “Dough?”

I smile and sit back down on the floor, pulling him into my lap and making playdough animals for him.  “What do you think about living with Uncle Logan?” I asked him.

“Uncle Gun!” he answers with a smile.

“Lana, I want you to know—I’ve been thinking about this a lot—I want to adopt Jack when we get married.  If you let me, I mean, if you want me to.  I know you’re worried about Tommy showing up and taking the boy.  Well, if he’s my son, then Tommy won’t be able to…he won’t legally be Jack’s father anymore,” Logan said.

Tears rolled down my face; tears of joy and relief.  “Thank you,” I whisper, unable to speak.  Right then, I knew that I was ready to get married.  “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.  Let’s start looking at churches right away.”

“Great!  I want to marry you quickly—before you change your mind!” Logan says.

I laugh.  This man is everything that I want in a partner: friend and lover, who is smart, handsome, and funny.  I answer, “Maybe I’ll marry you before you change your mind!”


Happy First Birthday! (Ch. 17)

Ch17_Jack Feb 95

“Hello, Mrs. Westmoreland,” I say.  I stand in the Chinese restaurant dressed in a short-sleeved button up shirt covered by an embroidered velvet vest with my blue jeans, I am sweating not from the ambient temperature, but from nerves.  I force a smile and put my hand to shake Logan’s mother’s hand.

Mrs. Westmoreland, standing barely 5’2” tall and pleasantly plump, hugs me.  Surprised, I hug her back, a bit stiffly.  Before I can greet Logan’s dad, she asks, “Where’s the baby?”

“He’s with my mother.  I thought you’d want to meet me first, over lunch, then we can go meet him,” I explain.  “It’s easier for me to talk, when I don’t have to focus my attention on getting Jack to eat.”

“I’ll feed him!” Mrs. Westmoreland says.  “And please, call me Betty Jo.”

Mr. Westmoreland reaches past his wife to shake my hand.  “Hi Lana.  Call me Bob.  You’d better take this little lady to the baby.  She’ll make your life miserable if you don’t,” he says gravely, but then winks to signal that he was half-joking.

“Uh, well, don’t you want to eat lunch?” I ask.  Food ranks pretty high in my priority list, right up there with sleep.

“We’ll bring it with us,” Betty Jo says.

“We’ll have to bring enough for Mom, Dad, my sister, and Kenny,” I tell her.

“Ok, do you know what they want?” she asks.

Defeated, I turn to ask a waitress if I can borrow a phone, so that I can call Mom to ask what she wants and let her know that we’re coming.

Meet the Westmorelands

Betty Jo rushes into the house as soon as I opened the door.  Mom is there holding Jack, and Betty Jo starts talking to him, “How are you?  You’re a big boy, aren’t you?  Excited about the party?”

I think about introducing Betty Jo to my mother, but figure they’ll meet later.

I walk past them to take the food to the dining room.  As I pull out plates and glasses, Logan introduces his parents to mine.  Kenny runs up to Bob and squeals a happy, “Pawpaw!”

Bob sweeps up the little boy and holds him up high.  “How are you doing, Peanut?”

“I’m not a peanut!” Kenny says with a happy, scolding tone.

“What’s that on your shirt?” Bob says, putting the child down and poking his tummy playfully.

“Doggy-mation!” Kenny says, referring to the 101 Dalmatians on his t-shirt.

Bob had heard Kenny’s cute nickname for the dogs before, so he didn’t miss a beat.  “Do you want to come have baby lobster?”

“Bob, we didn’t get any lobster,” I say.

“Sure we did.  Isn’t that shrimp lo mein?  Shrimp are baby lobsters.  Isn’t that right, Kenny?” Bob says.

I roll my eyes.  “Are you also going to tell him that this broccoli grows up to be trees?”

“He already knows that, and that pineapples grow up to be pine trees.  He told me that one last month,” Bob says with a straight face.

“This is Jodi!” Kenny says, holding up a toy snake and calling it by his mother’s name.  I try really hard not to laugh.

Mom sits down beside me.  Betty Jo is sitting on the floor near Kenny while Jack brings her each of his toys, one by one.  She encourages him by admiring each one with a big, “Thank you!  Oh, this is pretty!  I like how this one crinkles!  OH, and this one is a pretty red car!”

I shake my head.  The way that she was encouraging the boy, Betty Jo would have a friend for life.  Jack brings her a pair of socks and she offers to put them on his feet.

I laugh and walk over to show her that the socks actually go on his ears.  “He’s a doggie!” I tell her.  “Ruff, ruff!”  The boys giggle.  With one yellow and one blue “ear,” the puppy looks pretty silly.

“Well, that’s one way to break the ice,” Logan says quietly beside me, sliding his arms around my waist and kissing my cheek.

“They like you.”

“They don’t know I exist!  They’re all about the boys!” I say, and realize that I’m okay with that.  “I really like your parents.  They’re nice.”

Mom walks up to us and says, “Logan, your son is sneaky!  Right before you got here, I sat down on the couch and heard a crinkling sound.  I looked under the cushion and found empty candy wrappers.  When I was busy with Jack (changing his diaper or fixing his bottle or whatever), Kenny would sneak into the dining room, climb up on a chair, take one piece of candy from the bowl on the table, eat it, and hide the wrappers.  He’s only allowed one piece of candy before lunch, and he knows that if I saw the wrappers in the trash, that he’d be busted.”

I try not to giggle.  Really!  “The thought of little itty bitty Kenny being a criminal mastermind…sneaking into the dining room…too small to reach the candy bowl!”  By this time I am laughing hysterically.


Lana and Kenny, 1996  (Jack’s 2nd bday party)


Bob walks up to the other side of us and asks, “How did you two meet?”

Logan tenses, but I am prepared for this one, “Darrell introduced us on a blind date.  Mom and Dad met on a blind date; they were set up by her brother.  Grandma and Grandpa met on a blind date; she was a nurse and he was in the Navy.  So I always thought that I would meet someone special the same way.”

Logan kisses my cheek again.  “Darrell’s a good friend.  He’s a dumbass sometimes, but he’s a good friend.”

Bob says, “You have to look hard to find a good friend, but it’s easy to find a dumbass.”

Yep, I like Logan’s parents, alright: they’re smart and funny.  I wouldn’t mind being related to them; maybe one day…


“How I Met Your Father is wrapping up; there are only 20 chapters, so only 3 more to go!  If  you’re new to my site and you want to read Chapter 1, click here.  For the next chapter, click here.

Friends, I have some really awesome news to share, but I want to wait until I have all the facts.  Hope to share next week.  I’m so excited!!



Valentine’s Day (HIMYF Ch 16)


Three roses sit in a vase on the table.  It’s Valentine’s Day, so I expected more.

“Three?  Um, you were too cheap to get the whole dozen?” I ask with a nervous laugh.

Logan struggles to hide a smile.  “Can you get the water jug out of the fridge?”


If you haven’t read the rest of How I Met Your Father, you may want to start with Chapter 1.


“Why are you answering a question with a question?” I question.

“Just—get the water.  Please?  You’ll be glad you did.”  He looks at my stubborn, unmoving face and adds, “And you might find the answer to your question.”

I huff and stomp into the kitchen, which was hard to do in a heels and dress, yanking open the fridge door with more force than necessary.  Inside, in a glass of water, are three more roses.  Thrusting them at Logan, I say, “Only 6 roses?!  You still have some ‘plaining to do!”

Logan puts his hands on his hips and says, “Can’t you be patient?”

I roll my eyes.  “Have you MET me?!  Patience is not my strongest virtue.”

“Fine,” Logan says with a sigh.  “Go in to the bedroom.”

It’s my turn to put my hands on my hips and give him a look.

He puts his hands up and promises, “I’ll stay here, I’m not going to jump you before dinner.”

Giving him a warning glance, I go to the bedroom, just a short walk down the hall.  There on the bed are five roses, which I pick up.  The 6th was obviously sacrificed for the petals, which are scattered over the comforter.  Marching back in the dining, I put the five roses with the other six in the vase on the table.  “There, that looks much better,” I say.  Looking at my date, I add, “Thank you, Logan, for the dozen roses.”

He laughs, opening the wine.

“Oh, is that for me?” I ask innocently.  I pick up the paper napkin, which he has twisted into the shape of a rose.

“Yes.  You told me that Chianti is the wine to drink with pasta.  Is this brand ok?  It’s the only one with a basket woven around it, which is the one you said was good,” Logan said.


My cheeks flush from guilt.  I had told him that after a date had taken me to a fancy Italian restaurant the prior year.  “Looks right to me,” I say.  “You are sweet to remember.  I love that you listen to me that closely.”

He smiles and I am dazzled.  Has he always been so handsome?  His feathered black hair, his sparkling dark eyes, his bright smile…and tonight he wore a black silk shirt with dress pants.

“Dress pants?  You don’t even wear those to work!” I exclaim.

“Tonight is a special occasion,” he tells me with an intimate smile, “You’re here.”

“Awwww, thank you!” I say, and we gaze into each other eyes.

The timer buzzes and we jump.  “Smells delicious!” I say.

“These are homemade calzones.  They’re super easy to make: frozen bread dough, Ragu spaghetti sauce, cheese, pepperoni, and sausage.  Throw ‘em together and bake ‘em,” he say.

“I’m glad that you like to cook.  I prefer not to,” I say.

“I’ll cook for you anytime,” he says with a smile.  “Ow!  I burned myself!  Guess I better attention to what I’m doing, instead of staring at you.  You look gorgeous, by the way.”

I smile back at him.  “Thanks.  That’s the third time you’ve told me tonight.”  I had found the little black dress on sale at Ross Dress for Less for $35, which was about a full day’s cashier pay for me, and had splurged.  The plain black heels were from Payless Shoe Store; I had owned them for years.  I was glad that I was still able to look good despite my limited, single-mom budget.

Logan sits the full plates on the table and we eat.

“Jack is turning one in a couple of days.  Mom’s going to make a cake next weekend and you’re invited to come over for some,” I say.  Then I feel foolish; I’m here on a romantic date, eating by candlelight and sipping wine, and I bring up my son’s first birthday.

Logan doesn’t seem to mind.  “Do you mind if my parents come?  They’ve been wanting to meet you.”

I almost choke on my calzone.  I cough, beat my chest with my fist, and then manage to swallow.  I gulp some wine then say, “What?”

“I’ve known your parents for a while, since they live locally.  Since you’ve become such a big part of my life, my parents would like to meet you.  They live just 4 hours away, in Houston, so I see them about once a month: either they come here or Kenny and I go there.  Except, this past year…” he says, and I know that he’s trying to avoid talking about his divorce.  “I haven’t seen them much.  So, they want to come up next weekend.”

“Um, sure?  Let’s do lunch or something; they don’t need to meet Jack and Mom and Dad all at the same time,” I say.  “That would be a lot for anyone!”

“Ok, I’ll call them tomorrow and set it up,” he says.  We are done eating, and he takes the plates to the kitchen.

I’m nervous as hell.  Why are my armpits sweating so much?  I poke out my elbows a little to air them out, hoping he won’t notice.

Logan clears his throat.  “I’ve written a song for you.  It’s…uh…nothing fancy, just…uh…well, let me play it for you,” he stutters.  His hands are shaking as he puts his electric keyboard on the table, plugs it in, and stretches out his fingers.  He hits the keys and sings, hitting a wrong note; he makes a pained expression.  “Sorry.”  He starts again.

He’s so nervous!  It’s freaking adorable!  He plays slowly and messes up a few more times, but he just makes the pained face and keeps going; it’s actually painful to witness.  It’s terrible.  I love it though; I love that he wrote it just for me, and I love that he’s playing it for me.

After he’s done, I walk around the table and kiss him.  “Thank you,” I whisper.  A few more kisses, and he quits shaking.



For the next chapter, click here.

Chapter 14 ~ Mix Tape



When I leave work that day, with whole milk and square bread in bags by my side, I find a single red rose on my car, along with something else—a mix tape!  A short note from Logan reads, “Listen to me.”

***If you’re new to this blog, you may want to start with Chapter One. ****


Logan and Kenny, March 1995

I look around, but I don’t see anyone watching me, so I unlock the car and place everything inside my 1990 Ford Tempo.  I put the cassette into the tape player to listen to the music as I drive.  The first song is an old 70’s number that I hadn’t heard before.  A male voice sings, “Wanna get to know you well.  Wanna get to know you wel-ell.  So we can be one, we can be one, together.”*

Huh.  Don’t we already know each other?  What’s with the line, “So we can be one?”  Does that mean he wants to sleep with me?  Um, if that was the case, why wouldn’t he just kiss me already?!  Or, I don’t know, ask me on a date?!

I’m not sure what he’s trying to communicate, so I wait for the next song on the tape to play.  After a long-ish pause (3-5 minutes), Olivia Newton John** sings, “Let’s get physical!  Physical!  Let me hear your body talk…body talk!”

WELL!!  That’s unambiguous!

I’m not sure how I feel about Logan making such a bold suggestion.  On one hand, we are really good friends and we get along great.  On the other hand, we only ever kissed twice: on the one super awkward date that we’d been on and after Jack locked himself in the bathroom.

On the other hand—which is the first hand again—he has been there for me through some really rough times.  He stood by me during my miscarriage, no questions asked; he took care of me when I was sick from tequila poisoning; and he is more of a father to my son than Tommy, that’s for sure.

I struggle with these thoughts as I deliver groceries to Mom and pick up Jack.  Along the way, I listen to some of the other songs on the tape; they are various 70’s tunes with no particular connection to the first two songs.  I am a little puzzled; the mix tapes that I’d made, or had received, in high school usually had some theme.  At the very least, each of the songs on a mix tape were usually very carefully chosen.  I didn’t get why Fleetwood Mac’s Rhiannon was third on the list, or what significance I wanna be sedated had to Logan.

I head home and make us dinner as Jack plays.  We are home almost 30 minutes when the phone rings.

“Hello?” I say with a questioning voice, even though I suspect who it might be.

“Uh, hi,” Logan’s voice says.  “What did you think of the tape?”

I take a deep breath.  “Well, the first one was nice, I guess.  I hadn’t heard it before, who sings it?” I ask, fishing for more time.

“Howard Jones,” he says.  “Did you like it?”

“Well, it was interesting that you started with that song then transitioned to the second song on the tape,” I say, feeling him out.  What is he thinking?

“Second song?  What second song?  That tape was supposed to be blank,” Logan says, panic in his voice.  “I got the tape from Darrell.  Really, I didn’t know there were more songs on there.  What was the second song?”

I laugh.  He didn’t mean it!  He isn’t blatantly asking to get into my pants!  I should’ve known—this is Logan we’re talking about, a sweet, sweet man.  “Let’s get physical!” I say in answer to his question.

“I didn’t know—I mean, I didn’t put that on there—you have to believe me!” Logan says desperately.

I laugh harder.  After getting myself so worked up about the meaning of the mix tape, it was a huge relief to find out that it had none!

Wait.  Does it?  I force myself to stop laughing and ask, “Logan?  What did you mean by that first song?  You wanna get to know me well?  Don’t we already know each other?”

A short pause on the line, then Logan says, “I want to take you out.  You know, on a real date.”

“Oh.  Ok.  When?” I ask.  “Where?”  I don’t really know how I feel about this shift in our relationship.  I’d think about it later.  I’d think about it a lot later.

“Uh, I don’t know, I didn’t have anything specific in mind.  When can your Mom keep Jack?” he asks.

Now that is sweet, for him to think about my son first and foremost.  “I started classes on Tuesday and Thursday nights, so she’ll have him then.  Why don’t we go two-steppin’ on Thursday?”

“Sure,” he says.  “I’ll meet you at the community college, when you get out of class.”

“Ok, see you then,” I say, “Talk to you later.”  Something big had just happened and I’m not sure how to feel about it.

I wonder why he didn’t use a song from a band that we both like.  A perfect song would have been, I Can’t Fight This Feeling, by REO Speedwagon.***

I put my REO Speedwagon cassette in my jam box and sing along, “Oh I can’t fight this feeling any longer, and yet I’m still afraid to let it flow.  What started out as friendship has grown stronger, I only wish I had the strength to let it show.  I tell myself that I can’t hold out forever.  I say there is no reason for my fear.  ‘Cause I feel so secure when we’re together, you give my life direction, you make everything so clear.”

*Howard Jones:

**Olivia Newton John:

***REO Speedwagon:


Tune in next week for Chapter 15, Boot Scoot Boogie, which introduces Dixie—Lana’s future best friend and a real hoot!  She’s an honest-to-God Texan: friendly, assertive, and not a shy bone in her body.  Plus, Lana and Logan fall deeper in love.