Struttin' Swedes

After we visited the park, we took a few pictures through the moonroof of my car under the Ben Franklin Bridge and made our way over to Old Swedes’ Church and past The Mummer’s Museum.

Fresh, Frozen & Fire

Next, we drove over to The Italian Market (shown below) then weaved through Old City and Chinatown. We snaked up 11th street until the dead end and followed Broad Street (14th) north until we were back in our suburb.

Handwritten Hope

Dear Jess,

As you know, I am not the best at showing my feelings. I am sorry for everything that I have done in the past. You saved me from myself, and the thanks I showed you was making your life a total nightmare. In the past, I have always tried to buy my way out with cheap gifts. What I mean by that is no piece of jewelry could ever live up to your beauty.

I am not a very good husband at all. Always looking out for #1 has been my motto. When I see how much another man loved you, instead of saying, of course, look at you, sexy, smart and talented, I yell and push you down. For this, I am sorry.

Please find it in your heart to forgive me—I do not need to forgive you. It is all my fault. I would love to take a step back, take a deep breath and start over. I know you are scared. If we can’t, I would like you to call *** and get together with him. The emails in your blog are wonderful. He loves you.

I know I don’t deserve someone as good as you in my life. Here is one single rose for a fresh start. Hopefully.

Love,

****

Yesterday's Voicemail

You are the most beautiful, adorable, wonderful wife a man could ever have. I love you. See ya baby.

Hey baby, look I just wanted to say that I love you and that I forgive you for everything, and like I said last night I will never ever hurt you physically or emotionally again. It is gonna to take me a while to get close again, real close, cause I was hurt just as you were hurt. And I know that I was a very bad man, but I just wanted to let you know that I do love you--and that I hope that we can work it out because just like you said, I believe the same thing, that we are meant to be together and that we love each other. So have a good day. I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me for everything. So alright baby, I’ll give you a call later after I leave the job. I’m not at the job yet. I’m still driving ah, alright bye baby. I love you.

Take a Bow

I wanted to say, "Thank you!” to the few people who nominated and voted for my blog at Philly Future. I would love to have been their current featured blog. However, I came in third place. I missed out on trying to earn votes because I found out about their poll too late and had too much to do over the weekend to notify and ask my blog buddies to vote for me.

My sister and I were busy throwing a retirement party for my dad on Super Bowl Sunday. My dad will be the Philadelphia area's most missed portrait and event photographer. He spent more than 30 years giving people cute nicknames as he made them smile. I hope that his shutter will continue to flash for many more years, as his beloved job becomes a hobby rather than an occupation.

Uncertain

My husband found both of my blogs last night, which was inevitable. I'm not sure whether I'm keeping this one because everyone will have to hold back or measure their comments and I will have to be careful about what I say, which sort of defeats the purpose of a journal. I won’t be able to honestly express my feelings without being fearful of making him angry or hurt.

He found my old blog before, and made me delete it, which is why I lost all of my comments from my first year--and my readers. I republished SwedeHart Stories, My first year (AKA Jessika’s Journal), but it’s naked. The conversations were what made it more interesting.

This morning, I found out that porn site pigs stole my old listing for Jessika’s Journal at blogwise and even one of my old blog entries—word for word, but they added a sentence at the end. Please, don't reward them by clicking on their link list.

My husband questions every moment of my day. I have to explain every minute. He checks my voicemail and my phone bill several times a day. If I don’t answer my cell phone he becomes suspicious. If I accidentally leave it in my car and he cannot reach me he comes unglued. He packs a gigantic bag of clothes and walks out of the front door only to return and interrogate me. Part of me loves him—and part of me is terrified of him.

The frustrating thing is that I gave up on finding someone who makes me feel happy and safe. I had a brief relationship that was sweet and valuable to me, but it ended almost two years ago.

My feelings for my husband kept me from crossing the bridge into a new relationship. I never stopped wondering if I made a mistake by trying to mend things with my volatile husband, but I tried to make him happy.

I gave up AOL, chatrooms and flirtations. I rarely go out other than to shop, walk in the park or work out at the gym. My life is boring. I want to take salsa and ballroom dancing lessons and join a book club. I want to take writing and art classes and learn to give a sensational Swedish massage. I can’t even go out of my front door without feeling guilty and nervous. It’s difficult for me to leave for any reason without being concerned that he’ll give me a hard time or even become furious.

I didn't sleep much last night even though my husband whispered, “I promise I’ll never hurt you mentally or physically again.” into my ear after I turned out the light. His words brought me some relief and I began to sobbing into my pillow. I was high strung from defending myself for two hours.

I’m uncertain about his sincerity.

After our last marital issue, we made up. He was kinder to me than he has ever been. I liked him for the first time. He was complimentary and gentlemanly and loving. However, four days later a week of temper tantrums and threats to leave again followed, despite the fact that I had done nothing to set him off.

I can't decide whether to stay with him or just let go. We’ve both been living with indecision for a long time.

I believe in romance, love and monogamy. I grew up in a fairly conservative family and went to Lutheran church every week. Most Swedes are Lutheran, but don't really observe their traditional faith. I have tried to become more open minded as I’ve gotten older. I admire the Scandinavian lifestyle, which seems to be more enlightened and laid back, but I'm not a hippie. Hippies are yucky. They don't shower, shave or get haircuts regularly and they wear peasant clothes.

I prefer a classic look. I like wearing fancy dresses, hats, coats, jewels, high heels and perfume. I like high end designers and restaurants. I love feeling glamorous. However, I am just as happy wearing t-shirts, jeans and sneakers. I also enjoy playing sports or games and being in casual places. I can be fun and relaxed, but I know how to carry myself like a lady.

I'm so confused. Did you ever feel like there was more than one side to you and you weren't sure which one was the real you?

I think that most people have conflicted feelings about things. I have a wild imagination. My head is full of fun fantasies and ideas. I think that they are all me.

Day of Love

Origins of Valentine's Day are shrouded in mystery. According to University of Notre Dame Professor Lawrence Cunningham, scholars have two main theories to explain how February 14 became synonymous with romance:

Roman Feast of Lupercalia - This ancient pagan fertility celebration, which honored Juno, queen of the Roman gods and goddesses and goddess of women and marriage, was held on February 14, the day before the feast began. During festival time, women would write love letters, also known as billets, and leave them in a large urn. The men of Rome would then draw a note from the urn and ardently pursue the woman who wrote the message they had chosen. (Apparently, the custom of lottery drawings to select valentines continued into the 18th century, coming to an end when people decided they'd rather choose -- sight seen! -- their valentines.)

The Birds and the Bees? - In the Middle Ages, people began to send love letters on Valentine's Day. Medieval Europeans believed that birds began to mate on February 14.

There's also some controversy regarding Saint Valentine, for whom the famous day is named. Archaeologists, who unearthed a Roman catacomb and an ancient church dedicated to St. Valentine, are not sure if there was one Valentine or more. Today, the Catholic Church recognizes at least three different saints named Valentine or Valentinus, all of whom were martyred on February 14 -- at least two of those in Italy during the 3rd century. The most popular candidate for St. Valentine was a 3rd century Roman priest who practiced Christianity and performed secret marriages against direct orders from Emperor Claudius II, who believed single soldiers were more likely to join his army. Legend has it that Valentine sent a friend (the jailer's daughter) a note signed "From Your Valentine" before he was executed on February 14 in 270 A.D. (That phrase is still used prominently on today's cards!)

Early Christians were happier with the idea of a holiday honoring the saint of romantic causes than with one recognizing a pagan festival. In 496 A.D., Pope Gelasius named February 14 in honor of St. Valentine as the patron saint of lovers. In 1969, Pope Paul VI dropped it from the calendar. However, the blend of Roman festival and Christian martyrdom had caught on, and Valentine's Day was here to stay.

The gift of flowers on Valentine's Day probably dates to the early 1700s when Charles II of Sweden brought the Persian poetical art called "the language of flowers" to Europe. Throughout the 18th century, floral lexicons were published, allowing secrets to be exchanged with a lily or lilac, and entire conversations to take place in a bouquet of flowers. The more popular the flower, the more traditions and meanings have been associated with it.

Read more about Valentine's Day...

• Introduction to How Valentine's Day Works
• Origins of the Day of Love
• The First Written Valentines
• Valentine Symbols
• Other Valentine Traditions
• What's New with Valentines?

Love Potions

Fertile February is a good month to talk about aphrodisiacs...

The moon is nothing
But a circumambulating aphrodisiac
Divinely subsidized to provoke the world
Into a rising birth-rate
--from A Sleep of Prisoners by Christopher Fry

In the pursuit of sexual success and fertility, the moon, and everything under it, has been touted as an aphrodisiac by some person or culture. Love potion peddlers stop at nothing to sell their sexual wares. "I'll make you the same promise that my wife made to me," says Theodore Maximillian in the provocative brochure for his "Maxim" product. "I'm going to cure your impotence immediately!" Maxim "acts as a potent aphrodisiac," according to the advertisement.

An aphrodisiac is a food, drink, drug, scent, or device that, promoters claim, can arouse or increase sexual desire, or libido. A broader definition includes products that improve sexual performance. Named after Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of sexual love and beauty, the list of supposed sexual stimulants includes anchovies and adrenaline, licorice and lard, scallops and Spanish fly, and hundreds of other items.

According to the Food and Drug Administration, the reputed sexual effects of so-called aphrodisiacs are based in folklore, not fact. In 1989, the agency declared that there is no scientific proof that any over-the-counter aphrodisiacs work to treat sexual dysfunction.

*Read the rest of The Facts about Aphrodisiacs.

*Aphrodisiacs: Magic or Medicine?

There are also a host of external nuisances that weigh heavily upon sexual desire--and that may dampen the mood. Studies routinely rank American culture as one of the most sexually repressed in the world thanks to its forbidding Judeo-Christian origins, high incidence of sexual problems and dysfunction, and lingering tight-lipped discomfort with the very topic of sex.

In the end, the only truly effective aphrodisiac seems to be that's been working for humans all along. "Your biggest sex organ is the one between your ears," says Dr. Granzig. "What is desire, after all, than the hope that you can fulfill your sexual fantasies. And that's all in your mind."

*Read the rest of this article here.

My Buddy and Me

Wanna hear what my sweet son said to me ten minutes ago? He peeked his head into my bedroom door and announced, "Hey mom, you know when you'll be tough?----Never." It made me laugh.
Whatever!
I don't wanna be tough. I'm happy that I'm learning some cool martial arts moves while exercising and having fun.

My loving son came into my room after school this afternoon, as I was folding laundry. He usually gives me a warm hug. Today, he knocked me onto my bed. He said, "Hey Ma, I knocked ya over with one arm. That's pathetic. Ha-ha-ha-ha!"
We wrestled. I tried to push him onto his back, so I could give him a full body squeeze as I repeated, "Let me win. Let me win. Let me win."
He pushed me onto my back and gave me a three minute hug, while I repeatedly kissed his cheek. I know that he teases me because he loves me. He makes me happy. He's my buddy.

Remember the commercial for My Buddy? I sing it to my son...
“My Buddy, My Buddy, Wherever I go, he goes, My Buddy, My Buddy, I’ll teach him everything I know…” “My Buddy, My Buddy, My Buddy and me!”

The doll was kinda creepy, but the jingle was cute.

Passion Fruit Punch

It makes sense that sweet juice=sweeter juice. I think I'll drink more fruit juice, too. I would imagine that it might make anyone taste more like fresh and fruity cane sugar syrup.

*Andy, I like stories that mention Tommy Lee and pineapple flavored drinks. Yummy! Thanks for sharing. And, I like giving--good tip!

Hope you’re eating lots of celery and fruit, more powerful is always better. Your new nickname should be salad shooter. You might want to buy your wife a shower cap, unless she likes super hold hairspray. (There’s Something About Mary comes to mind.)

Maybe if I drank a glass of strawberry juice on Monday, grape juice on Tuesday, pineapple juice on Wednesday, cherry juice on Thursday, peach juice on Friday and apple juice on Saturday...I might taste like fruit punch by Sunday.

I think I'll start eating more fruit salads, too.

• FAQ on Semen
• How to improve semen/vaginal fluid taste.
• Sperm & happiness

Musical Movement

My inspirational instructor gave me the nickname Uma, two weeks ago while he was teaching me how to use a bamboo sword and wood bow. He is teaching me martial arts skills, which include an assortment of punches, blocks, kicks and kata. I am hoping to have a body like Uma Thurman's in Kill Bill by June. I want to be longer and leaner and a little bit bad--or maybe just less pathetic.

Fighting is completely against my nature. There is nothing intimidating about me. My "tough girl" face tends to elicit giggles rather than intimidation when I am trying to discipline my children or be taken seriously during a disagreement. I seem to have the same effect on my teacher. I was never really interested in martial arts or boxing sort of stuff. However, I have done a lot of kickboxing workouts.

After a free workshop given by Bally’s handsome new personal trainer, Dennis, I decided that learning self defense techniques was fun and interesting. I was bored with my exercise routine, so I decided to “kick it up a notch”—to steal a phrase from the adorable chef Emeril Lagasse.

This week, Dennis began teaching me a complex kata, which he put together from an awesome library of pretty, but deadly moves. His agile dance changes tempo, as he strikes imaginary pressure sensitive points. His focus creates a storm of sharp, smooth and sexy rhythms. His body becomes an expression of the art of war. His gorgeous athletic ability is breathtaking and a little intimidating. However, he motivates me through the choreography with patient repetition and a warm smile.

Dennis is the kind of guy who offers friendship along with sharing his knowledge of black belt martial arts. He is a kind Karate Master—and he is fantastic!

Candy Kiss

I take my daughter a small glass of chocolate milk almost every night, while she is reading in bed. Last night as I was tucking her into bed, she sighed and whispered, “Mommy, I love you more than chocolate milk.” I felt her little arms wrap around me as a Hershey’s kiss brushed my cheek. Love much sweeter than chocolate warmed my entire body. I wore a silky peach nightgown to bed--and her candy kiss.

Writer/Dreamer

You Are a Dreaming Soul

Your vivid emotions and imagination takes you away from this world So much so that you tend to live in your head most of the time You have great dreams and ambitions that could be the envy of all... But for you, following through with your dreams is a bit difficult You are charming, endearing, and people tend to love you. Forgiving and tolerant, you see the world through rose colored glasses. Underneath it all, you have a ton of passion that you hide from others. Always hopeful, you tend to expect positive outcomes in your life. Souls you are most compatible with: Newborn Soul, Prophet Soul, and Traveler Soul

What Kind of Soul Are You?

Sour and Sweet

My trainer and my dentist would love this--I ate a handful of Sour Patch Kids for breakfast. (In bed) I asked my daughter what her favorite flavors were. She replied as she popped a soft and chewy lemon candy into her small, pink mouth, “Red, orange then yellow and my least favorite is green. I said, “Guess what, my order is the same.” Her pretty, blue eyes grew wide and she smiled at me. Then I said, “Guess what?” She looked at me. My heart skipped a little as my eyes danced over the tiny light sprinkling of freckles that kiss her nose and cheekbones. I declared, “I love you SO much that you can have the last red one in the bag.” I handed it to her. She broke it in half and said, “Here mommy, you have the head.” I replied, “No thank you, honey, you eat it.” And she did.

Sexy Scandanavia

*All of that sex in the sauna can lead to ridiculously large families!