Lucky Thirteen

Back in what now feels like a hundred years ago, I let someone make me feel like I wasn't worthy of love. I thought at the ripe old age of twenty-one, I was doomed to live as my grandmother and die alone and bitter. 

I fought it for a while, still wanting what I thought I deserved. After some time, it seemed inevitable and I accepted my fate in being alone. And because I believed my destiny so intensely, when a man did show interest, I missed it. It took an intervention, some creative scheduling, and a lot of determination on his part to make the pieces fit. 

On a Wednesday, thirteen years ago, I became his wife. No fancy clothes were purchased. No band played our song. We didn't have an elaborate cake to shove in each other's face. We simply walked up to the court house at our appointed time, paid a small fee, and the whole thing was over in less than thirty minutes. 

For a while, it made me sad, going to the courthouse. Not having the memories of that one day to look back on. No photographs or other mementos to dust off every so often. But a wedding isn't what makes a marriage. It's the work that two people put into it. And as I've been told all of my life, anything worth having is worth working for. 

One thing is for certain, we work hard. Some days we work really hard. 

Statistically, we should have divorced years ago.  The truth of the matter is that we genuinely like each other. We enjoy being together. We respect each other. And we don’t believe in 50/50. Our relationship is more 60/40, always giving more than we take.

Circa 2010

Thirteen years ago, a confirmed bachelor and potential spinster chose forever. Quite literally through the good times and bad, richer and [always] poorer, thick and thin, we have stood together, always strong. Never wavering, never considering the alternative.

I can’t believe it’s only been thirteen years. I am so lucky.   

   

Tweet

True Love

Last year, I wrote about Valentine's Day and how we don't as a couple don't celebrate it. 

I am not sure what got me to thinking about it all today. We were getting ready to leave to have lunch with a friend, and I was trying to remember past holidays. I can only remember one, and that one is hazy. He had made me a card. I'd have to dig it out to even see what year it was. And it's also possible it was for Mother's Day.

Clearly, I will not be nominated for Wife of the Year.

Later in the car, I finally asked him, "Did we decide a long time ago that we didn't believe in Valentine's Day and decide to skip it or did I poo-poo your ideas?"

He was quiet for a beat. "Well. Kinda."

I have been with this man for fifteen years. It has been a long time that something he has said shocked me and rendered me speechless.

We never talked more on the subject for rest of the day. He is fighting a nasty cold and actually went to bed early. Or so I thought. Not twenty minutes after he went upstairs, I received a text:

I so don't deserve this man. 

Tweet

Life's Bumps

Last Wednesday, I wrote on my Facebook wall that Big Daddy's store would be closing - forever.

For all two of you that read this, you probably already knew this little tidbit.

At the time when I wrote it, the reality of the situation hadn't fully sunken in. Sure, we've worried about money  and we've run around trying to use our medical insurance while we still had it. And  tended to a billion other little details that are too mundane to list out here.

It wasn't until today that I fully felt that hopeless feeling. The what-exactly-are-we-going-to-do feeling.

For the last twenty-three years, he has worked for one company. I've known and been with him for the last fifteen. Our whole life has revolved around his job. It just seems surreal to be starting over.

In the grand scheme of things, there are a lot worse things we could be dealing with right now. If I find myself starting to slip into that woe-is-me place, I try to remind myself of that fact.

This is just a bump in the road.

I hope.





Tweet

Driver's Safety: Think

Photo credit: Crunkish

When one's husband drives a '96 Ford Explorer with a temperamental transmission, the last thing she wants but always expects is a call at 10:30 on a Friday night informing her that he is broke down. Only it's not the transmission; it's a blown tire. And he is on the interstate.

As soon as he called me, I was up and grabbing my pocketbook ready to rescue him. "No," he says. "I am going to change the tire. I just wanted to let you know where I was."

I can hear the traffic whizzing by. Granted he WAS on the interstate, but still. It sounded too close. Also, the blown tire was the front driver-side. This bit of information sent me into a fit of oh-my-g-he-going-to-be-killed-and-I'll-have-to-raise-these-kids-alone-with-no-father. IJUSTKNOWIT.

To add insult to potential injury, the tire had to blow next to a LONG guardrail AND five miles from the exit.

He did manage to move the truck further up the road so he could pull over properly. Then the jack-lugnut-looser-upper broke and there was nothing he could do.

I had to come to the rescue.

After some creative juggling, mostly consisting of me having to drive him to work this morning as I needed the car*, I procured a brandnew lugnut-looser-upper, picked him up from work, whereas he was able to change the tire in the light of day and a torrential downfall. Ironic being we haven't had a good rain in about three weeks. Oddly enough, it didn't rain at our house.

As I sat in the car behind the truck with the emergency lights on, I watched the traffic. I lost count of how many times people COULD have moved to the inside lane, but didn't.

Why not move for everyone?

Sadly, the Move Over law (in Tennessee) does not extend to personal vehicles. As I watched my  husband struggle with sub-par tools** in the pouring rain and road-spray, I just knew any second something would catch and he'd accidentally fall back into the lane of traffic.

I propose that we as drivers should really look out for one another.  I have always tried to move over when I see any sort of activity on the side of the road. Sure, we are all in a hurry, but a quick lane change may prevent  the unthinkable from happening.

Photo Credit: Tennessee Department of Safety

*For those of you that knew about the book sale today, that was not the reason I needed the car. Nice benefit, but not the reason.|
**I am going to take the money I WAS going to spend on a tow truck and buy some better car tools. He just doesn't know it yet. 

Tweet

Can One Be Over-Prepared?

It has not been said nearly enough that my next door neighbor* is a dream come true. Her boys and our boys are BFFs. All too often, my boys are there playing. It's a win-win for everyone.

Whadda you lookin' at?

All four boys read the required number of hours this summer to earn free admission to Nashville Shores. Time got away from all of us (read: I totally forgot that they had those coupons) and now school starts back on Monday.


To make a long story short, my next door neighbors were going  and invited our boys along. I packed their lunches, waters and the like and sent them over at the appointed time.


She texted me thirty minutes later:
 "We're just now leaving. I always forget that even though Husband is here to help pack, I still have to organize it. He's fine with vacation but acts dense with lunches and stuff. Ugh!"


I reply:
"Big Daddy is the opposite. He packs like we are going to be on 'Let's Make a Deal.' Of course, he gathers all the odd stuff but forgets the obvious stuff. Like money."

~*~

My husband, in the wee hours of 7 a.m. last Friday, asked me if we could go to go to the zoo. I am not sure if you've heard but we live in the South,  and it's about 200 hundred degrees in the shade.  At night.


He played his hand well by sneaking out the house earlier and coming back with doughnuts a healthy breakfast and asking not only before coffee BUT by text. Then proceeded to remind me that we could get in BOGO with a Kroger Plus card and a receipt. And if that weren't enough? The cherry on top with sprinkles was the promise of going to McKay's,** which is my favorite place to go other than the beach.


While I was getting ready, he packed our lunches, drinks, and the like. I never have to give food much thought other than beverages. One can never have enough Diet Coke, in my opinion. As is with most of our excursions  I handle technical stuff: sunscreen, sunglasses, a book to read, large enough pocketbook to handle requests of "can you hold this for me" and other similar necessities.


But apparently, Big Daddy wasn't going to be caught empty-handed. I kid you not, had Wayne Brady walked up and asked for ANYTHING in exchange for $100 he would have been ready.


He had:

• plastic gloves
• wet wash cloth
• sanitizer spray
• bread to feed the fish (that we aren't supposed to feed) 

also:

• personal sprayer to cool off (okay, I'll admit that was a good choice for him)
• quarters and pennies for the smasher/souvenir maker
• few empty baggies
• personal wipes (for the bathroom) 

When he first pulled out those gloves, I thought I was going to wet myself from laughing so hard. Not that I would have noticed with all the sweating. And I'll also admit that his supplies were actually quite thoughtful and handy. 

"Dude. Does she seriously have an iPhone?
Pfft. Whatever. I'd turn around for a Droid."

Now, if that weren't enough--lunch time.

The zoo plan was clearly premeditated. I baked a ham on Thursday for dinner because I had a meeting. Whilst I was away, he made a huge bowl of ham salad out of the leftovers because, "that was a big ham and we might not eat it all." 


What did the EagleScout of '84 have packed in his picnic basket, Boo-Boo***?

Ham. Salad. See? Pre. Meditated. 


But not just ham salad sandwiches. No.

We had bread choices. Cheese choices. Mayo and mustard. Seriously, it was like being at Subway and building a sandwich. Except more like at a construction site and my Malibu transformed to a roach-coach.




And as much as I hate to admit it, I got annoyed because we had choices. I am more of a here's-your-sandwich-take-it-or-leave-it packer. But packing 360 (+/-) in about a nine month span will do that to a person. 


However, when he pulled out the cheese and crackers, and pudding cup, and extra- chilled Diet Coke all especially for me because he knew I don't care for ham salad, I got over myself.

It's the days like that the boys will look back and remember that their dad went out of his way to make a special summer memory.

They don't even have to know it was on a tight budget. But if Wayne Brady could have just shown up, we'd been ready.

For ANYTHING. 

~*~

After writing the trip to the zoo, it occurred to me that perhaps in my zeal to write this post in a fit of comedic inspiration,  I was too quick to make Big Daddy out to be the over planner I used to be.Or thought I was.

Here is what I sent with each son for his day out:

• Sandwich as per individual choice. One PB&J, one ham and cheese. 
• Sun chips
• applesauce cup
• two capri suns
• One large water bottle that had been frozen and was refillable
• granola bar
• snack crackers

All food save for water bottle was packed in large ziplock bag so not to be a mess or nuisance in the neighbor's cooler. I also sent along:

• WetOnes
• personal potty wipes (at son's request)
•  ONE ibuprofen because one son had immunizations the day before and his arm was sore
• Just-in-case money
• sunscreen
• extra pair of dry clothes
• towel

And the Pièce de résistance:

• a signed and dated letter stating that Mr. and Mrs. Neighbor had my permission to make emergency medical decisions necessitating care until I could be reached. It had each boy's full name, date of birth, and pertinent medical history. 

Overkill? Perhaps. But you'll notice, I still forgot the plastic gloves. 

Had Wayne Brady shown up, you know that is what he'd asked for. 

What is the one thing you bring on a summer day trip you think no one should be without? 

*Not to be confused with the across-the-street neighbor.
**McKay's is a used book store. Think of Amazon prices in a store. And they give credits on what you bring in. They are sadly only located in Tennessee. Which means I may never move out-of-state based solely on that fact. 
***Channeling Yogi Bear voice. I loved that cartoon. 

Tweet

For the Love of One Day

I don't really understand all the hoopla behind this day: February 14th.

Sure, some call it Valentine's Day. Stores are draped in red and pink crape, with cases of candies, stuffed animals, and long racks of cards ready for purchase to tell that special someone how much you love them.

But have you noticed that most of the stores have the same things that fall into the Valentine theme? So, where is the surprise in that?

It's not that I am bitter about this holiday, although I used to be back in my younger days. I have also seen the stress this day causes people. I used to work as a merchandiser for a major greeting card company. I was required to work on Valentine's Day. And Target was one of my accounts.....

Let's just say I have seen more civilized people on Black Friday at Walmart.

My husband and I have been together for fourteen years. We have never celebrated Valentine's Day, per se. We may have eaten out a time or two and said, "This is for Valentine's Day." After all of our time together, it isn't this day's proclamation of love that I remember, it's the other days.

• When he brings me a Route 44 Sonic Diet Coke without me asking. 
• When he picks up the Sunday paper so that I don't have to go out. 
• When he sneaks out of bed and gets the boys ready for school so I can sleep for an extra hour.
• When he brings me three tea rose plants and a Christmas cactus because they went on clearance and he knows I like them. 
• When he brings me coupons that are only found in the store. 

And the list could go on.

Through the years, we have went through three moves, two births, five store re-locations, the brink of foreclosure, mental illness, three hospital stays (beyond giving birth), and three major surgeries.I quit working full-time to go back to college. We are in debt up to our ears. We haven't had a vacation in four years with none in sight for the future. But, we have a roof over our head, two vehicles that run and are paid for, generally good health, and plenty of laughs.

If even after all that (and it's been candy-coated for the faint of heart) and  we still want to be together, then I can't think of any bouquet of flowers, heart-shaped box of candy, or red and pink stuffed bear that is going to define his love for me any better. And vice-versa.

Our "Valentine's Day" happen on random days throughout the year.  We believe that the surprise and small token of love is more meaningful when it isn't expected.

If you happen to love the idea of Valentine's Day, by all means, don't let us ruin your party. Go ahead and have fun! Tonight, while you all are waiting for a table, or trying to grab a card and box of candy at the last minute, we'll have supper at home and then go and get our taxes done.

Because nothing says love better than dishpan hands and a federal tax refund. 



Tweet

Don't tell me you weren't warned

Dear Future-Daughter-In-Laws:

I am telling you this now, so that you may prepare yourselves. I do not want calls made in haste asking me such things as why he pees everywhere even if he puts the seat up. And for the love of all that is good, DO NOT believe him when he says, "Well, my mom always did it for me."

Unless he follows up the sentence with, "...when I was two," it is with 100% certainty that he has told you a lie.

True, I have failed as a mother in some aspects. However, it can not be said that I didn't try. I thought I was going to break the mold and raise two fine young men that broke all the stereotypes associated with men.

Here is the truth and it's two-fold:
1. All things "man-like" is genetic trait, and
2. The buckeye doesn't fall far from the tree.

Don't get me wrong: he can be sweet. He'll flash those baby blues/dark browns and give a little blink, and you'll feel like you'll fall into puddle of jelly. Be firm! This is only a tactic! This is exactly how he will try to get around things.

Other common phrases I like to call, The Cop-Outs:

• "I didn't hear you."
• "Oh, I forgot."
• "I was waiting for a commercial."
• "I thought you meant tomorrow."
• "Are you sure you told me?"
• "I don't remember having that converstation."
• "Oh. I was sleeping."

Invest in a tape recorder, notebook that can fit in your purse, a good pen (ballpoint-no pencils, they break), note cards, post-its, calender (NO DRY ERASE), and a second set of eyes and ears.

There will be some good times. He'll bring you a Diet Coke or some M&Ms when you are feeling blue. (Just an example; your feel good items may vary from mine.) He will call you on his way home from work. He may even offer to cook dinner.

Again, while these are the niceties,  you have to shovel a lot of crap to find a tiny diamond.

It will be rare that the dirty clothes will make it to the hamper. If you don't get into a habit of picking them up, he'll do better about getting turned in a timely manner.

It will be rare that a dirty dish gets put into an empty dishwasher. The male mind can wrap his mind around the possibility that it is OKAY to put one plate inside. They would rather that the sink is overflowing first.

He will always know where things are kept. Even if you moved them. However, he will NOT remember where he got said item. Male memory is selective.

Same thing with hearing. He heard you. He wasn't listening. There is a difference (to him).

The words that are coming out of his mouth may not be exactly what he means. The exceptions to this rule are: money, sports figures, food, and well, let's not discuss that here.

 All in all, he is not a bad catch. Not that I am prejudiced or anything. I just want you to know what you are getting into. Don't tell me later you weren't warned.

Love always,
Your MIL
Tweet

Momma's Boy(s)

When I was pregnant with my daughter some eighteen years ago, I never read any books on what I should expect during pregnancy, during birth, or beyond. I may have browsed the pamphlets and literature that was handed to me by the doctor and the Lamaze instructor.

The internet hadn't been invented yet (can you imagine how we even SURVIVED?!?) or if it had, we didn't have it. I had a mother that was perfectly content giving me all the glory and gory details of the upcoming event.

Fast forward several years when I was pregnant with my second child. Internet was available to a limited few, (not me) but I read every single book I could get my hands on. As a matter of fact, about the third time I came home from work with yet another sack from the bookstore, my husband said, "Really. I think you have enough books. What else could you possibly NOT know?"

That was the last time he ever cut me off books. However, I don't buy them new anymore either.

We're both fast learners.

There was a lot of things I didn't know. Some things had changed since I had my first child. One of the main things I didn't know was that second child I KNEW was going to be a girl was in fact a very large, ten pound bouncing baby boy.

(Yes, ladies. Ten whole pounds. And he came to town through the main highway.)

But a boy?!? I didn't know how to deal with all that stuff. Anyway, we made it through with flying colors and when I got pregnant with my third child a mere six months later, I don't think I cracked open any of those books that were collecting dust already.

I've been thinking that there is a reason that the books don't tell you what to expect after the second year.

No other child would be born. Ever.

The Trying Threes (none of my kids had the Terrible Twos) were nothing like the Pre-Teen years we are going through with the boys. Thankfully, my daughter really didn't give us much grief. She was pretty easy going. Still is.

But the boys? They are the reason that I have grey hair, sleepless nights, adult onset acne, and a secret stash of chocolate.

To make life even more complicated, they are polar opposites. When it is said that "opposites attract," it's not siblings that are being referenced. Believe it.

So to sum it up, we have two completely different personalities, unpredictable surging hormones that can't be helped with Midol or chocolate, unsatiable appetites for foods that aren't in the house, and the inability to hear my requests to pick up ____ (backpack, socks, clean laundry, books, etc.)

I have been making it my life's mission to inform everyone that I can of the impending doom that is boys. Only, I don't have any reference past eleven-almost-twelve. While, I am trying to spread the knowledge as far as I can, I also have to deal with the day-to-day activities and HOPE that I am not making some critical error that will forever alter his, mine, or our life path therefore insuring any and all success he could have had coming to him had I ____ (whatever.)

If I don't let him audition for the play, will that stunt his future chances of becoming an Oscar-nominated actor? (Because it is an honor to just be nominated.)

If don't get him a cell phone so that he can text with all his fifth-grade friends, does that mean he will be ousted and it will hinder his ability to win the election for class president his senior year thereby eliminating colleges he can apply to?

No matter what I decide or not to do with these boys, I am afraid of any possible damage. Big Daddy says that I am doing a good job and that they will have plenty of fodder for the tell-all book that will be written.

He's quite the active partner in the parenting process.

I've been working hard and diligently working on raising respectable children that will grow up to be responsible adults. The last couple of months have been much better than the six prior, but it is still a jiggling act at best.

Don't misunderstand me. I love my boys with every fiber of my being. I can't imagine my life without them. If I was given the ability to a do-over and have only girls, I wouldn't do it.

But you need to heed my warning: Boys are harder than girls. They will work your last nerve.

I have no doubt that should any of my children find themselves in need of therapy later in life, I will be blamed for everything.

I also have no doubt that should one, two, or three of them become famous their father will be the one that is thanked before I am.

I can live with that.

The House of pain

I went to bed last night feeling bad that I hadn't made a post on Sunday. Not bad enough to get up and actually write one, mind you, but bad nonetheless.

Of course, all of my three readers would be not be disappointed as I commonly use the words, "...posting regularly soon..." only to skip a day or seven. I am all about consistency.

This morning, I am a bit disturbed over my sleep. I went to sleep watching "House" last night. This show is a recent addition to my schedule as I could never get into before. The fact that he was Stuart Little's father just kept going through my mind.

(Don't try to analyze my thought processes. It's not worth your own sanity.)

So any rate, I consciously thought last night, "You know, behind that sarcastic, narcissistic, drug-addicted front lies a man that actually has a heart. And isn't hard to look at either."

Wouldn't you know I dreamed I went out with him? And although I didn't dream the actual date, before I woke up I was waiting for him to call me again.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Yesterday, I was asked nicely tricked coerced bribed into going and help with Project Clean Up.

The original plan was that he and the boys were camping out there Saturday night. Only, the big attraction was canceled and all the vendors were packing up and leaving after the concert. This made him nervous that not many people would be milling about. The park is located on the rough part of town. Many people that live in said neighborhood had seen him and his tent. Many of these people were also people that had stolen in his store and he had testified against in court.

You know, that old chestnut.


With that being said, he decided to come home. Which wasn't a big deal to me even though I ended up being up until 1:30. Until the alarm went off at 6:30. And he woke me up.

He needed help tearing down the tent before the guys came with the trailer. In other words, packing and organizing all the bits and pieces.

This bit of information might have been helpful BEFORE I went to sleep. You know, when I fell asleep not worrying about be up so late. As I thought I was going to sleep in and stay at home.





This interior shot taken by one of the boys doesn't even begin to show all the intricate pieces that had to be packed up. I think I have less stuff in my kitchen.

And to be quite honest, not as many people were as gone as he led me to believe on the phone. Now that I think about it, I was duped.

Figures.

At any rate, by the time everything was disassembled, large stuff on a trailer and my Malibu packed to the GILLS, we looked like the Clampett's leaving the park.

It was exhausting. On top of that, we had to go to the grocery store in search of food that I could cook that didn't involve chicken, steak, bacon, and strangely enough, smell like Tex-Mex.

Everyone must have been have having the same problem as it was crazy busy. Plus, the Titans were about to start and that is the WORST time to go to the store.

By the time we got home, it was all I could do to slap sub sandwich together and pour a Diet Coke.

That was my Sunday. Typical really.

For carnies.

Come along and ride a Fantastic Voyage. Slippity slide.

Welcome to our today. This ride may take many twists and turns unexpectedly. Please keep arms and legs inside at all times. Those with back problems, heart conditions, or pregnant are welcome to ride. Riders are cautioned, however, and must proceed at own risk. Enjoy your ride!

I am not even sure how seven days have passed without posting. I couldn't believe it until I saw it with my own eyes.

First things first: earlier I was reading Knocked Up by Rebecca Eckler when I came across the line, "....doesn't mean I'm not cool and hip."

That just cracked me up for a couple of reasons:

1. The orginial title for this blog was going to be I'm Not Cool and Hip. But I didn't like the flow.
2. That is the number one search query that bring people to this blog.

Secondly: Apparently my grammar issues have rubbed off on my middle child. We were at Big Daddy's tent at the Goat Festival (I know. Please.) when he says, "Mommy. Look at that trailer over there. They have (uses his hands to make air quotes) those quotation marks around 'fried' and 'pies'. That doesn't look right."

::beams with pride::

I tell him, "You are right. It isn't."

He spent the rest of the day looking for errors.

Also, later in the day, I may or may not have corrected a stack of someone's business cards that were left in on top of the hair dryer in Burger King. The cards were proud of the fact that "to local companys" are opening soon.

I wish I had taken a card. I'd like to know what these "companys" do. Perhaps I could have offered my services....

Speaking of grammar, I was reading another book and found a subject/verb disagreement. I guess even the best editors can make a mistake.

Third: There are a couple of reasons I haven't written in a week. Well, excuses would probably be a more accurate description.

A. The kids are on Fall Break. We have one computer--a desktop. They are loud and I am used to quiet during the day.
B. I spent one WHOLE day reading.
C. Big Daddy has been getting ready for the festival. He needed my "help."
D. Yesterday, I ended up spending all day at aforementioned festival. (It wasn't bad. Cute, actually. Probably nicer than our state fair.)
E. When I went to write the next day's post for Sara's Challenge , after perusing the pages to find my style, it was then I realized that I didn't have one. Never have, really. (For day number 17)

That led to other feelings of doubt, which led to other feelings....

Basically I've been having a pity party. Which probably could have been avoided if I had been taking my prescription properly.

Oops.

Anyway, I am feeling better now. Or something like it. And shall resume posting regularly soon. Of course, we have one more week of Fall Break. But I will give it the old college try.



Thank you for riding the Cool and Hip Emotional Roller Coaster today. Please follow the arrows for the proper exiting procedure. Be sure to take all personal belongings. Anything left behind will be sold on eBay, Craigslist, or distributed as employee Christmas gifts. Have a lovely day! We hope to see you again soon.

The Early Bird Might Get The Worm, But She'll Still Be Grumpy About It

So, for Day 10 Sara wants to know:

"How was your day?"

Well, I am sure at the end of this you'll be sorry you asked, Sara. And I can assure you it's not retaliation for the getting John Mellencamp's song stuck in your head.

I could NOT sleep Friday night/Saturday morning. At least, not a deep restful sleep. Tossed and turned. Turned and tossed. Dreamed about grammar ALL. NIGHT. LONG.

And Tim Gunn. But that's a story for another day.

At 6:30 I tried to slip quietly out of the bed and make a quick trip to the potty without alerting the dogs of my awakeness. I was going to attempt to lay/lie down a bit longer. For some reason other than sleep, obviously.

They were not fooled.

I headed downstairs and enjoyed approximately fifteen minutes and three sips of coffee before the troops started to awaken and wish for things like breakfast.

Um, hello? It's SATURDAY. Otherwise known as, "My Day Off."

Today is Big Daddy's last day of vacation. However, being he is the main dog in charge, he needed to go in for a "few minutes."

At work. Not here, people. Let's be real.


I was dressed in my housecleaning clothes and had already gotten started. He finished getting ready to go and THEN asked me to go with him.

(Censored for content)

He did offer a Diet Coke as my reward. As if I could be bought so cheaply.

I took a book to read while he did these vital tasks that apparently only he and the president of some third world country have the codes to open the necessary forms on the computer. He assured me he would be out in twenty minutes.

Forty-five minutes later, he comes out and...

(censored for content)

To make a LONG story short:

• I am tired.
• I am ready for him to go back to work TOMORROW.
• I am grumpy.
• I did not buy any chocolate while we were out.
  
• I am glad tomorrow is Sunday.
• In one week, they will all be home. Every. Day.
  
• I am looking for alternate accommodations for the dates of October 3-10. It's either them or me.
  
• I really do love them. But it is time for some absence so my heart can grow fonder.

Sorry. But you asked. Or didn't.

Whatever.

Love is...

For Sara's 30-day challenge, Day 7 asks:

"What is one of your favorite quotes and why?"

There are two reasons that I have answered this yet:

A. Big Daddy has been home since Friday afternoon, save for about 2 hours Sunday, so I had to do other stuff, and

2. I have known for well over a week this topic was coming, and I have yet to think of a favorite quote.


However, even though I am not a religious person, there is a quote, scripture, line (whatever one would call it) out of the Bible that I have liked since I married Big Daddy.
First, my grandmother quoted it for some reason. Later, the man that married us just happened to quote it during the service. I didn't even ask him to. It was a little surreal.

There are about 2, 345 versions, depending on the actual book and version one could be reading. I found this at BellaOnline:

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it is not proud, it does not boast. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but it rejoices in the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always preserves."

- 1 Corinthians 13: 4-7

In case you were wondering...

Apparently, words allude me today. I am taking a break from work so that I can write the way I LIKE TO WRITE.

With humor.

In first-person.

Non-formal.

Yesterday, I wrote so much and even had a bit-o-drama to go with it, that today...

I got nothing.

*-*-*-*-*

The above text is what I mentioned in my entry earlier today.

I looked at the "I got nothing" for a few minutes and watched the blinking curser. Only to get up, go into the kitchen, decide the dishes could wait, and retreat to the couch where I spent the remainder of the afternoon watching all manner of courtroom drama.

I can neither confirm nor deny that a nap may have occured.

Today, I attempted to make-up for yesterday's transgressions, or lack thereof. I got up a 5 am. Fixed sausages and eggs. Packed healthy lunches. Cleaned the kitchen. Started laundry.

By the time the kids walked out of the door at 6:05, I was working. Of course, with any office job, one has to warm up. Fix a fresh cup of coffee. Check emails (Google reader) and chit-chat at the water cooler (Facebook).

After I wrote that compelling entry for today, I started in on writing. It was an odd assortment today. The first article was sent back because I didn't use a key phrase exactly as it was ordered. My usual method of splitting up two words that need additional punctuation or perhaps a preposition did not work.

Let's pretend the key phrase was "paper book." Obviously, the words don't flow correctly just as written. Typically, for SEO practices, this method would work:

"Most manuscripts should be written on plain, white paper. Book publishers will reject any queries that are written..."

See what I did there? But, NOOOO. I had to revise.

Anyway, I did a lot of writing today. Since I met my daily goal in a relatively short amount of time, I should have saw these things coming:

• The water meter tank thing is full of water. We can't figure out why. Upon opening the lid, it was discovered that a black widow had also taken up residence. She was none-to-keen to our siphoning out her in-ground pool.
• The internet went down this afternoon (thankfully not while I was in the middle of sending in a copy) for about an hour. It's a wonder I lasted in such primitive conditions. Plus, I was trying to figure out what to make for supper with spaghetti noodles, a pack of raisins, and coffee creamer.
• The power went out AGAIN. This is a daily annoyance occurrence. About a mile or so up the road they are building a substation that is suppose to help something or another. If it would keep the clocks on the right time, that would be a start. This daily loss of power is crazy.
  
• Big Daddy reiterated the fact that I don't have a "real" job despite the fact I have received "real" money. Of course, it is not a lot of money (see bullet point above) but it is more than I made last week and the week before that. And certainly more than the State of Tennessee thinks I am owed. He then followed up with, "I just thought you'd be making a lot more, that's all."
  
• I did not tell him that I thought I'd be thin with long thick locks. We don't always get what we want.
  
• The living room TV died. During Judge Judy no less.
• After a quick google search, I have figured out the problem(s):
  
  1. The flux- capacitor all- spark died. This is common and an easy fix. And cheap! (See above bullet points)
  2. This has happened on every model of Magnavox TV with the same model number as ours. Clearly, it's a conspiracy. I am blaming the blond on "The View."

And finally, I was nominated to be the Secretary for the band boosters. During a meeting that I didn't attend--for the second time. Because I am so good with dates.

However, tomorrow is a new day. Except the small folks will be home at noon.

Well, it's better than nothing.

Getting Tunafied at Miss Walker's

Day 30- One last moment

I guess it's time to wrap this challenge up. Although, I really don't wanna. Even though I have managed to spread it out over two months, I liked the comfort of knowing I "had something to talk about" on those days that all I may have done was make coffee.

Oh, I kid. I would never have the luxury of only making coffee. The dogs have to go outside. And someone has to change the channels on the TV.

At any rate, I have procrastinated on posting this simply because I didn't know what to write about.

And then it just happened.

Last night , Nicholas and I were talking about music. He has taken a sudden interest in my iPod. All he wants to do is listen to music.

::heart swells with pride::

He is talking about the songs he would want if he had his own music player because, "yours doesn't have anything good on it."

::pop::

Let the record show that I have about 497 songs LOADED on there. If one can't find something good to listen to on my iPod, there's nothing I can do.

He does like the song, "Roses" by OutKast. We are singing, and he says, "You need a golden calculator tunafied...."

After I stopped laughing about an hour later, I showed him the video and told him that the only thing one could do with a golden calculator was to divide.

Apparently, not really knowing the lyrics runs in the family....

For the last twenty plus years, I have been singing, "On a one-winged dove" instead of "a white-winged dove" to "Edge of Seventeen" by Stevie Nicks. (Hello. Still best song EVER.)

Even when I would be singing that song, quite loudly I am sure, I always wondered how it soared. What with its one wing and all.

But the award for alternate lyrics goes to Big Daddy.

We are looking up some songs by the group, "Kentucky Headhunters." They are playing at a festival he is going to be at next month and neither of us recognized the name.

I find an album and click on a song I thought sounded familiar, "Dumas Walker."

The sample starts to play, and we both say, "OOOH!" at the same time. However, our ohs had different meanings.

Mine was for recognition.

His was because of the lyrics. They sing, "Let's all go down to Dumas Walker's."

He thought they sang, "Let's all go down and do Miss Walker."

This was three days ago. As soon as I stop laughing, I need to ask him what he thought the next line was...

"We'll get a slawburger, fries, and a bottle of ski.."


So there you have it. One last moment, thankfully, full of laughs.

Here's to many, many more....

[insert witty title here]

I haven't blogged.

But many entries are in my head.

I haven't written anything.

But I can't stop thinking about it.

I haven't commented on anyone's blog.

But I REALLY want to see what everyone is up to.

Having said that, I have:

• Clipped some 1,329,405 coupons.
• Filed about 999,765 of them neatly in my [new] binder.
• Fought a post-4th migraine.
• Helped Big Daddy with his new menu on a holiday weekend Weenie Wagon. Rib-eye sandwiches? To die for....
• Realized I have used a title twice. I guess I liked that one.
• Bought two squeeze bottles of mayo and a bottle of Ranch for $1.66. Coupons rule.
• Ate a $42 dollar dinner at Logan's for.....$22. Again, see above. (Four people dined.)
• Saw Toy Story 3. Totally worth every penny. And I didn't have a coupon. And yes I cried. Three times. Four if you count after the movie when BD asked if a certain part got me.

I know it doesn't sound like much, but I swear I have been going full steam. I haven't even had time to read.

I know!

Anyway, I just wanted to give a shout-out. Hope everyone had a safe and happy holiday weekend. I'll be around shortly....

Tears ahead: You have been warned

Apparently I have fallen off the wagon.

I have been super busy the last couple of days. Mostly with a couple of projects that I am working on that seem to be consuming all of my time. That is clear if you'd walk into my house right now....

I had planned this special entry for Father's Day, but ultimately ran out of time decided against it. I can tell you, however, Big Daddy had a great day.

He received a few things even though the budget I was given was approximately zero dollars and no cents. I was most excited about the photo collage that I had made through Walgreens. I was fortunate to get the idea from Jessica at Inspiring You to Save. She had posted that Walgreens had a special on 8x10 collages for the low, low price of FREE.

Yes, ma'am. Sign me up.

AND because I had to sign up, I also got 25 4x6 prints for FREE.

When I gave him the picture, (framed AND matted--items I had on hand. One of the perks of closing a portrait studio) I also included the receipt. He was impressed.

Probably his best present came from Darrin--a handmade card. Inside Darrin wrote:
"Dear Daddy,
I love you more than deviled eggs* but they are really good. Happy Father's Day! I love you!"

*Please note: The love that Darrin has for deviled eggs knows no bounds. I love chocolate and Diet Coke, but this goes beyond that. Seriously. I have never seen anything like it.

Later that night, Big Daddy said that brought a tear to his eye.

::passing the tissues::

Other than that, it's been pretty average around here. Nothing out of the extraordinary. Tomorrow, Jessica has an appointment to get her Senior pictures made. Just typing that makes me want to flip through her baby photos while playing "Memories", "Photograph","Yesterday," and "Good Riddance(Time of Your Life)". I am not really sure how it's even possible, because I am pretty sure that last weekend I put on her favorite dress, Mary Janes, socks with lace around the edge, and her hair in pigtails (with bows!), and Big Daddy took us to Chuck E. Cheese on a date. I have a photo of the event.

::taking the tissues back::

I think I better stop here. My keyboard won't be able to take much more....

We've got spirit! Yes we do!

I have been married to Big Daddy for eleven years this past March. In total, we have been together for thirteen years.

When we first started dating, no one (myself included) thought it would last. A myriad of reasons were given (again, some by me) and while the faults of our impending failure would be due to some undoing by me, he never waivered. He simply would hold up a hand and be all, "Pfft. Whatever."

From time to time I will ask him if he ever thought we would have made it this far. He always responds with his stock answer, "Once I decide I want something, nothing changes my mind."

Worked out great for me, that's for sure.

We work hard at our relationship, sometimes really hard, but he never has expressed any doubt that here is where he wants to be.

There is no secret formula. But, I think in our situation, he is the glue that holds us together. He is the steady hand when I am erratic and anxious. He is the yin to my yang. (Or which ever way that is supposed to be...I always forget.)

Tonight, he illustrated once again why we work. Plus, he also proved my theory that selective hearing does in fact fall on the Y chromosome.

I mentioned two nights ago, completely off-the-wall and totally off the subject of whatever we were talking about that I wanted to go to the writing group on Thursday night. Purely in a "Oh, and by the way..." manner much like one might mention in passing, "We are out of milk."

And then, I forgot about it.

Not because I didn't want to go but it simply slipped my mind. On top of the fact we really were out of milk, and (Oh the horrors!!) coffee creamer, gas for the lawnmower and grill, Father's Day is Sunday,one child has VBS next week with the neighbor's son, I need to talk to her about that AND couponing, payday wasn't until Wednesday, and BD needs a new shirt for Thursday for a huge meeting with the president of the company, I can't get the unemployment office to return my call that THEY requested, Darrin has to meet with the school psychologist for testing, my sleep cycle is off- AGAIN, the book for review came on Tuesday and needs to be read ASAP....

What was I saying again? I am not sure how I lost track.

Anyway, one of the kids mentions to me that I HAVE to take them to the library on Thursday because we didn't make it on Wednesday. Big Daddy perks up and says, "Oh. The library? For the writer thing?"

I look at him like he has spoken in French and say, "Huh?"

He says, "You said you were going to the writer's group."

Mental head slap. "No--well, yeah," I say. "It's at Location X and starts at 7. I totally forgot about it. But I am not going to go."

"And why not?"

"Because I don't want to be away from you?" Wink-wink. Nudge-Nudge.

"You are going."

Excuse me? "Why do you say that?"

"Because. You want to write. You want to be published. You need to get out there."

I am digging deep for reasons that I shouldn't/can't/won't go. "Well. Yeah. But....It's such a waste of time. No one is going to want to read what I have written."

"You don't know until you try, and I know that you'll succeed."

See what I mean? He is my biggest cheerleader. I say all the time that he only supports my desires because he loves me and may be slightly biased. He claims that he only supports the things he honestly thinks I am good at.

He isn't an encourager by nature--until it comes to me. As much as I hope that he is correct in his assumption that I will succeed, I think we both know that he is more likely to fly to the moon in a hot air balloon than I do at success.

However, I will take his cheers. Who wouldn't?

And I am totally going to the writer's group.

Be careful for what you ask for

We have this awesome screen door that we got for free dollars and zero cents when my parents moved from their other house. It didn't have screen in it but my husband being a closet hoarder had some left over from a previous project.

This screen door is so that we can have the interior garage door open, and if the big garage door is open as well assuming that he doesn't have his crap spread all over worse than the toy section at Goodwill, then we get a nice cross wind with the dining room windows. Which, by the way, was the reason for putting this door in, and the fact my parents were giving one away was just a bonus. We come into the house through the garage so it opens and closes more than Tiger Woods' fly. And has had just as much wear and tear as...well, you know what I mean.

After muchbegging nagging asking nicely, he finally took the door down yesterday to re-screen it.

I mean, the 17 pound cat could jump through the hole, folks.

Wouldn't you know, the trim he took off broke, and the ONLY supply he didn't have to make the repair was, you guessed it, the trim.

Makes me wonder why we have so much screening, though.

I was running out to do some errands, so he sent me to Lowe's with a piece of the trim and a WHITE nail. With explicit instructions to BUY ONLY WHITE NAILS. NO LONGER. NO SHORTER. NOT WITH A WIDE HEAD. NOT WITH A PIN HEAD. NOT WITH A BOX. NOT WITH A FOX. BUY ONLY WHITE NAILS. oh, and two sections of quarter round.

I asked a few questions about the quarter round. Mostly about the length and was he sure that was enough. As a matter of fact, I probably said quarter round about fourteen times before I left.

Care to venture a guess on what I bought at Lowe's?
a. Two sections of quarter round.
b. White Nails.
c. Both a and b.
d. Neither a or b.

What was Big Daddy's response upon my return from Lowe's?
a. "Thank you, Darling. You saved me a trip out."
b. "You are such a caring, wonderful, and dare I say, 'Hot wife.' How did I get so lucky to have you?"
c. "You bought quarter round? Why did you buy that?"
d. "It's about time you got back. What's for supper?"

If you guessed c on both, you get an A.

And if you are better wife/partner than I am, you would have noticed that I wasn't supposed to buy quarter round. I was supposed to buy trim. That is why he sent me with a sample piece. When I questioned him on his use of the wording, "...two pieces of quarter round...," he said that he didn't mean quarter round and that was why he sent the sample piece.

After we left Lowe's to make the (much cheaper!) exchange I said, "I still don't understand."

He replies,"If I had sent you out with a Rt. 44 cup and asked you to get me a medium coke, you would have thought, 'Hmm. He gave me a Rt.44 cup. I bet he wants a bigger size. He didn't mean medium.'"

I looked at him like he was crazy and replied, "Nope. You would have gotten a medium. You get what you ask for."

Hopefully this will help him understand my whole, "Say what you mean, mean what you say."

'Cause my psychic abilities are expired.

(Don't tell the kids I said that. I totally know what they are doing.)

Spark of Inspiration

I recently became a member of MyBlogSpark, and my very first assignment was to vote on my favorite cover for the September issue of the Betty Crocker Fall Baking Magazine.



Here was my choice:

Those pumpkin faces got me right away.

Now, I am not one much for the baking--that is Big Daddy's domain--but it must have gotten me into creation mode.

For dinner, on the spur of the moment, I made the BEST apple salad. Ever. Hands down. Even Nicholas said, "If you took out the apples and just left the rest, this would be the best apple salad EVER."

When his daddy reminded him that without the apples it wouldn't be an apple salad, he replied with, "Well, you could call it Various fruits and Whatnot salad."

I see his future as a cookbook writer already.

Ironically, as I was making this I thought, "I really should take some measurements or write something down because I know this is going to be blog worthy."

Perhaps I haven't lost all of my psychic abilities, after all.

I am going to share with you my first "recipe." This is probably why I don't like baking, I am not an-exact-measurement kind of gal. My best dishes are the ones that I throw together willy-nilly.

Best Apple Salad Ever (aka Various Fruits and Whatnot Salad).

Need:
6-8 medium apples, chopped. I used a mix of Fuji and Gala. Obviously, a tart(er) apple works better, but whatever you have on hand or like will work.
Celery stalk, finely chopped
Couple handfuls of chopped walnuts
A handful of dried cranberries
1 package of low fat cream cheese, warmed. Again,this is what I had on hand.
2 containers of Activia Vanilla and Cereal Yogurt. I would have used plain vanilla yogurt, but again, just going by the seat of my pants. It was either this, strawberry, or coffee.
About 1/3 cup of low fat sour cream
Several Tbsp of sugar.

In one large bowl, mix* the cream cheese, yogurt, sour cream, and sugar. Start with a couple of Tbsp of sugar, mix well, and then add more to taste. Totally up to you. Once you have the dressing mixed to a loose but creamy consistency, it is ready to mix with the "various fruits." I put the chopped stuff into the dressing, mixed, and then transferred to a serving bowl. Prepare for your family to be wowed by your salad and ask what's in it. Answer with, "Ancient Chinese Secret", in an Asian accent. Enjoy!

*I used the stand mixer but a hand mixer would be fine.

Not necessarily a low calorie side dish, but the fiber from the Activia yogurt, celery, and apples can't hurt.

If you have the same dinner we had, your husband/partner will proclaim lovingly, "It's a good thing it was so good, because it totally counteracted the undercooked potatoes in your potato salad."

I guess they all can't be winners.

Disclaimer: I did not receive payment, nor was I asked to make this posting. Links to BlogSpark and Betty Crocker are for your reference only.

Thought I was the Queen. It looks like I was the Joke(r)

I think Sara was sheer genius for saying that there should be Xanax machines at the entrance to WalMart on my last post.

I know where I'd be spending my quarters.

Today, I was thinking that perhaps one of the problems with Americans (being general here people. Don't start sending the hate mail and throwing tomatoes) is that we are spoiled. We want what we want when we want it. Yesterday is better.

Case in point:

Before we went grocery shopping yesterday, Big Daddy and I sat down and made a supper menu for the week. Or should I say the next five days because starting next Friday, I will be spending the next four days with Big Daddy at his store. In the Weenie Wagon. If ever there was a time for Xanax....
Anyway, we hadn't come up with anything Sunday and another day so he says "we'll come up with something" whilst browsing the store.

Which, I'd like to say is annoying anyway because 1) he is so picky, that I feel like I only make like six meals on a revolving basis, and 2) Hello?!? It's Saturday. Browsing is not an option.

(Don't try to figure us out. You'll only need to be medicated later.)

Long story short, nothing sounded good. I am not sure what his problem was. I'm all, "Why can't we just eat a salad and some fruit and call it a day?"

Those of you that know what my husband looks like probably would have guessed his reaction to that. Anything that is consumed without a meat, potato, and bread product is called an appetizer.

Today, I had to run to Target so he asked me to come up with something for dinner. Never mind the fact that he came from his store. Where they supposedly sell groceries.

Nothing sounds good to me other than salad and fruit, so I finally take the easy way out and grab some ground turkey to make a meatloaf.

I get home and he says, "Well. Okay. But that doesn't really sound good."

Someone dial the number for Oxygen. If they hurry they can film actual footage for next season's "Snapped."

After looking at the paltry selections that we studied yesterday, His Majesty decides that chicken salad in a pita, cantaloupe, strawberries, and chips sound good. Now, I could have come up with this menu YESTERDAY had he not specifically said, "I don't know what I want to have on Sunday, but I just know that I want to get back to the "traditional" Sunday dinners you were making before you were working.

So, I leave AGAIN and run to Kroger. There were about nine million people in there. And of course they were all getting the same things I was. Probably due to the fact it was about 95 degrees today.


Now that I am "unemployed", I have decided that for the rest of the summer, things will go like this:

1. Big Daddy won't be accompanying me to the store. I will be going during the weekday. This means that I'll have to take the boys, but that's fine. I can tell them "no" and even punish them if they get out of line.

2. I will be resuming my role of Queen and will serve what I want on the night I want. Special requests will have to be submitted in writing at least a month in advance.

3. Big Daddy will not starve if he doesn't like what I serve. He was cooking long before I came along, and as a matter of fact, he is actually a better cook than I am.

4. Maybe I should rethink this role of Queen....

5. I am going to find out how that woman Jenn mentioned got $150 for $1.

6. Moving to Germany with Sara may be worth considering.