Song Lyric Sunday: I Finally Found Someone

Song Lyric Sunday was created by blogger Helen Vahdati. Click here for guidelines.

This week’s theme is “find/found.” Today’s pick was on a cassette of love songs my late husband sent me soon after his marriage proposal.

At the time, we were living about five hundred miles apart; he in Fowler, Colorado, and me here in Sheridan, Wyoming. After meeting through a magazine, we started out as friends, corresponding by email daily and sometimes by phone, then boom!

In January of 2005, he was sure he’d found someone. Because I wasn’t expecting it, his proposal was a shock. It took me a while to realize I’d found someone too. You can read more about this in My Ideal Partner.

Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy the song. If you haven’t found someone yet, maybe you will someday. Who knows?

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I Finally Found Someone–Barbra Streisand and Bryan Adams

Lyrics Courtesy of Google

 

 

I finally found someone, that knocks me off my feet

I finally found the one, that makes me feel complete

We started over coffee, we started out as friends

It’s funny how from simple things, the best things begin

This time it’s different, dah dah dah dah

It’s all because of you, dah dah dah dah

It’s better than it’s ever been

‘Cause we can talk it through

Oh, my favorite line was “Can I call you sometime?”

It’s all you had to say to take my breath away

This is it, oh, I finally found someone

Someone to share my life

I finally found the one, to be with every night

‘Cause whatever I do, it’s just got to be you

My life has just begun

I finally found someone, oh, someone

I finally found someone, oh

Did I keep you waiting, I didn’t mind

I apologize, baby, that’s fine

I would wait forever just to know you were mine

And I love your hair, are you sure it looks right?

I love what you wear, isn’t it too tight?

You’re exceptional, I can’t wait for the rest of my life

This is it, oh, I finally found someone

Someone to share my life

I finally found the one, to be with every night

‘Cause whatever I do, it’s just got to be you

My life has just begun

I finally found someone, oh, someone

I finally found someone, oh

Whatever I do, it’s just got to be you

My life has just begun

I finally found someone

Songwriters: Robert John Lange / Bryan Adams / Marvin Hamlisch / Barbara Streisand

I Finally Found Someone lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group

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Author Abbie Johnson Taylor

We Shall Overcome

How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver

That’s Life: New and Selected Poems

My Ideal Partner: How I Met, Married, and Cared for the Man I Loved Despite Debilitating Odds

Click to hear an audio trailer.

Like me on Facebook.

 

 

 

Talking Dirty

Thanks to the Magic of Stories for inspiring this post. Karen J. Mossman talks, in a way, about creating a balance between being realistic and providing an escape for our readers.

Can you think of any scenes where people go to the bathroom? I’m going to be vain and tell you that in my memoir, My Ideal Partner: How I Met, Married, and Cared for the Man I Loved Despite Debilitating Odds, I talk about going to the bathroom a lot. In one scene, I’m making oatmeal, and my husband Bill, totally blind and partially paralyzed by two strokes, is sitting at the kitchen table in his wheelchair. Suddenly, he says, “Oooh, I gotta pee. Oh, it’s too late. I wet my pants.” This gives my readers an idea of what I went through as a caregiver.

What about farting? In Larry McMurtry’s The Last Picture Show, there’s a scene in which a high school football coach flatulates while lying in bed, reading the newspaper, much to his wife’s annoyance. This gives you some idea of what kind of guy the coach is. Bill also liked to expel wind through his posterior, but I couldn’t find a way to bring that into my story, since it wasn’t related.

How about belching? I’m going to be vain one more time and give you an example from a short story I wrote several years ago that hasn’t yet been published. It’s called “Living Vicariously,” and it’s about a Catholic family dealing with issues related to religion. In one scene, a teen-aged girl who has lied about attending confirmation classes, is eating dinner with her father in a pizza joint. She’s drinking Dr. Pepper, and she says she doesn’t want to be a nun because she doesn’t want to give up the beverage. Then, she birps for emphasis. Here, I’m showing you her character.

Eating is another bodily function often portrayed. One great example of this is in the book Prizzie’s Honor. Charlie, a mafia crook, is eating lunch with his boss. It’s an Italian ten-course meal. This emphasizes the irony that evil people enjoy the good things in life.

I suppose we ought to talk about sex, but I’d rather not. None of my work has vivid descriptions, and frankly, such scenes bog a story down. Hand holding, kissing, and embracing are enough to show the reader two people are in love.

What do you think? Do bodily functions, including sex, enhance a story or slow it down too much?

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Abbie Johnson Taylor
We Shall Overcome
How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver

That’s Life: New and Selected Poems
My Ideal Partner: How I Met, Married, and Cared for the Man I Loved Despite Debilitating Odds
Like Me on Facebook.

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Thursday Tidbit: Excerpt–The Bomb Drops

Today’s tidbit comes from the first chapter of My Ideal Partner: How I Met, Married, and Cared for the Man I Loved Despite Debilitating Odds.

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CHAPTER 1
THE BOMB DROPS

“Dear Abbie, I’m writing to ask for your hand in marriage,” the letter stated.

“Oh, no,” I said, as the index finger of my right hand scanned the Braille words on the page.

It was a Saturday evening in January 2005. This was all a bad dream, I thought, as I sat in the living room of my apartment. Any minute, my alarm clock would ring. I would wake up, and everything would be as it was before. Instead, the talking clock in the bedroom announced that it was 8:30.

I read the rest of the letter that explained how we could live together and tossed it into the wastebasket in shock. With the help of my closed–circuit television magnification system, I finished reading the mail and perused the evening paper, all the while thinking about the letter.

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If you like what you read so far and want to read more, click here.

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Abbie Johnson Taylor
We Shall Overcome
How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver

That’s Life: New and Selected Poems
My Ideal Partner: How I Met, Married, and Cared for the Man I Loved Despite Debilitating Odds
Like Me on Facebook.

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Reblog: Saturday is for Sharing–Abbie Johnson Taylor

Thanks to Lynda Lambert for giving me this opportunity to promote myself. Check this out.

Saturday is for Sharing: Abbie Johnson Taylor

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Abbie Johnson Taylor
We Shall Overcome
How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver

That’s Life: New and Selected Poems
My Ideal Partner: How I Met, Married, and Cared for the Man I Loved Despite Debilitating Odds
Like Me on Facebook.

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Thursday Tidbit: Prologue–My Ideal Partner–Excerpt

Today, I’m trying a new feature. I normally post book reviews on Thursday, but since I don’t always have books to review, in that case, I’ll toot my own horn instead of that of another author. Today’s tidbit is from My Ideal Partner: How I Met, Married, and Cared for the Man I Loved Despite Debilitating Odds.

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This couldn’t be happening, I told myself, as, in my underwear, I paced the upstairs hall in Grandma’s house between my aunt’s old bedroom and the bathroom. It was the afternoon of September 10, 2005. In the yard, I heard strains of music from the string duo my father hired for the occasion and the chatter of arriving guests. Soon the ceremony would start. Would I have to walk down the aisle on my father’s arm in my underwear? Where was my sister–in–law, Kathleen, who agreed to be matron of honor?

She was probably still at the motel with my brother, Andy; their two sons, Dylan and Tristan, ages eight and six, who were to be ushers; and their two–year–old daughter, Isabella, who would serve as flower girl. Not only were we missing ushers and a flower girl, but my dress was with Kathleen at the motel, or so I thought. Why wasn’t she here?

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Now, here’s a recording of me singing a song I wanted to sing at our wedding but didn’t think I could without losing it.

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annie’s song.mp3

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For more information about My Ideal Partner and ordering links, click here.

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Abbie Johnson Taylor
We Shall Overcome
How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver

That’s Life: New and Selected Poems
My Ideal Partner: How I Met, Married, and Cared for the Man I Loved Despite Debilitating Odds
Like Me on Facebook.

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Saturday Song: Take Me Out to the Ball Game

As mentioned in My Ideal Partner,before I met and married my late husband Bill, I worked as a registered music therapist in a nursing home. Nowadays, I play my guitar and sing at senior facilities strictly for entertainment. Recently, a friend suggested I share a recording of such a gig to show how I interact with my audience. So today, instead of a video, you get to hear me sing one song live in concert. Enjoy, and have a great Saturday.

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seventh inning stretch.mp3

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Abbie Johnson Taylor
We Shall Overcome
How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver

That’s Life: New and Selected Poems
My Ideal Partner: How I Met, Married, and Cared for the Man I Loved Despite Debilitating Odds
Like Me on Facebook.

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Snowdrops Keep Falling on My Head

One night last week, I found a roof leak in the master bedroom, apparently due to a build-up of snow on the roof. The spot was located above the head of the bed. Fortunately, I wasn’t sleeping at the time, or I might have dreamed of being the victim of the Chinese water torture method.

After discovering the leak, I was able to reach the roofer I used last year. The next morning, I called the insurance company. Later, two guys from the construction company came and shoveled snow of the roof. I asked them to have their boss give me a written estimate if repairs are needed. They may not be able to do anything until spring, so will see what happens.

This reminded me of a similar incident that happened while my late husband Bill was still alive. As you’ll note in the following excerpt from My Ideal Partner, a memoir in which I describe how I cared for Bill after he suffered two strokes, we discovered a leak in almost the same spot on a rainy May morning.

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One rainy May morning, as Bill sat on the side of the bed, clutching the pole, and I maneuvered the wheelchair in place so I could transfer him, he intoned, “Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head.”

Not knowing any more words to that BJ Thomas standard, I hummed a few more bars.

“I’m serious,” he said. “I think the roof is leaking. It’s dripping on my head.”

I placed my hand on top of his head, and to my horror, I felt a drop a moment later. My heart racing, I said, “What do I do?”
“Put me in the chair. Then call John.” (John was our landlord.

As I transferred him to the wheelchair, my mind was reeling. “You’ll probably have to go to Eventide (nursing home) until we can get the roof fixed.”

“No, a roofer can put a tarp over the place where the roof is leaking until they can fix it.”

I was relieved and hopeful as I dialed John’s number. He promised to call someone right away. About twenty minutes later, as Bill predicted, a roofer arrived, and the leak was temporarily stopped.

“Tell Suzanne at the bank,” Bill said. “She can add the cost of repairing the roof to the loan.” When I called her, she said she would need an estimate. I gave her the name of the roofer John called.

We needed a new roof, but Suzanne said adding that cost wouldn’t be a problem. The rain eventually let up, and our days became warm and sunny with no worries about the roof.

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Abbie Johnson Taylor
We Shall Overcome
How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver

That’s Life: New and Selected Poems
My Ideal Partner: How I Met, Married, and Cared for the Man I Loved Despite Debilitating Odds
Like Me on Facebook.

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