Why I Say Yes :: The Love Files

Last night, around 9:30 PM, my husband looked me square in the face and seriously asked me if I wanted to go out into the cold.

Part of me wondered if he had a fever.  

"Wanna come out in the snow and watch me shovel and Duke run around like a mad man?"

He meant it, I could tell.  While I have no idea why he asked, and despite the reasonable part of my brain that said "Heck. No.  I don't like frostbite, thankyouverymuch," I went anyways.  Because as far as its in my power, however much he asks, I try and tell my husband "Yes" when he asks if I want to come with him.

It wasn't glamorous.  There was no particularly blog-worthy photo to show.  So I just took one, so I'd remember.  I want to remember that he asked me.  He asked me to be with him, to do with him.  He wants me around.  He wants to share things with me, even if its biting cold wind and annoying (and never-ending!) chores.  

I want him to always choose me, and so I try to say "yes" as much as possible.

Its the reason I've gotten up to go "hunting" at 4:00 in the AM (Yes, they make a 4 o'clock for mornings, too!  Who knew!?) and the reason I have actually sat and watched him play a video game a time or two.  For as long as he wants me around, I want to be there.  

This doesn't mean that I don't do my own thing, or that I watch him live his life while I sit in the stands.  We do plenty apart, and there are times he comes with me for stuff, just because I've asked.  It all just boils down to being each other's buddies.  I don't know if its the best marriage technique.  I don't know much of anything about marriage, other than what pertains to Handsome and our first 6 1/2 years.  But I do know that this works for us, the tagging along.  

I've had friends who say they want to do things, and so you ask or invite, and they decline.  Which happens, not a big deal.  Until its the 145th time, and then you're just done asking.  I don't want him to ever be done asking me.  It seems silly, but when I've got my head on straight and a good perspective, it almost seems like he's proposing all over again.  A little far-fetched, sure, but the truth is he's choosing me, and that's pretty much all I've ever wanted.  So that's why I say "yes".

Have a great weekend, friends!  Say yes to someone, even if they're asking you to leave your house at 9:30 when its 27* out and you're wearing leggins.  It might seem like a small thing, but these little "yes"'s, they add up into one big "you're important to me" and that is a beautiful gift.

<3 M.

I Love Being Married :: Giveaway

**WINNER**

Amy Klein

************

Warning: this post is mushing, in an "I have so many feelings and they're oh so very nice sort of way" not in an "old banana" sort of way.  Although the title kind of gives that away, so if you clicked through and now you're feeling surprised...

Let's be honest.
Handsome is the only one who actually looks good in this picture.
But the post is about him, so I'll allow it.

I'm in love.

I am.

With my husband.  And I'm not even sorry about it.  Not even one bit.  Usually, I just call my MIL and tell her how much I love her son, because what MIL doesn't want to hear that?  And besides, if she's buying me questionable undies as stocking stuffers anyhow (no lie - I couldn't bring myself to open my stocking in front of grandma!), I'm pretty sure she knows it.

I feel like I just over-shared.

I apologize.

Please try and remove whatever mental images you've conjured.

Anyhow, I've been thinking about the bible verse that says "Marriage is to be honored by all..." (Hebrews 13:4) and I know that when we publicly rag on our spouses, it doesn't honor marriage.  I also know that when our marriages are rockin' and we don't admit it, that's not honoring marriage either.  So here is me, saying that my 5-year,7-month marriage is rockin', and I'm oh so glad.

Here's a short list, from this week, of how my #babydaddy is making me fall in love with him all over again.

I fall in love when Handsome:

- prays for us to be brave, and I didn't even know we needed to be
- talks about buying RG her first rifle, and the fun they'll have as he someday teaches her about gun safety.  <Because she's gonna love that!>
- takes me to a musical, and we both enjoy it.  <"Better than the movies" he says!>
- rummages through the cupboards and eats whatever he finds, like in-house dumpster diving
- takes an extra 15 minutes to put his shoulder holster on just right, like a 63 year-old retired cop, so that we can go to the grocery store
- takes our dog running and calls him his buddy
- pretends to complain about nice things, like having too much food or getting smooched as soon as he walks into the house
- follows me around while I get ready, telling me his stories from the days he's been at work

Seriously, I'm over the moon.

Now, there are about a gazillion marriage books out there.  And I'm sure there's some good ones, and I know that there are some not-so-good ones.  A book won't make or break your marriage, but I'll tell you this - the good ones often give me a little check, and some perspective.  There is one book that I can point to ("other than the bible" says the baptist-raised girl, but she does mean it!) and say "this book changed my marriage".  That would be The Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands by Dr. Laura Schlessinger.

Well, it changed the way my marriage would be, anyhow, since I checked it out of the public library a month or so before I actually got married.  I thought it was a joke, that it was just funny stories about being married.  Nope.  Dr. Laura, lays down the law, and gives great advice.  The best part, for me, is that the book is peppered with other people's stories.  I love vignettes!  Her two main pieces of advice: Choose wisely; Treat kindly.  Simple, but soooo critical!

Thus in an effort to honor marriage, I thought I'd give a copy of the book away.  You can have it in paperback or e-book version, winner's choice.  This is also a great book to give to a newly engaged lady, or as a bridal shower gift.  Just sayin', even if you're not married, you might want to enter.  Plus, winning is cool.

Use the rafflecopter below to enter to win.  Giveaway will go on through Weds at 11:59!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

<3 M.

Oh, and Dr. Laura has no idea who I am.  This post is not sponsored.  Duh.

Letters To My BabbyDaddy :: Talk To Me

Hey Love.

I love translating you for others, too
#appleBOTTOMjeans

My handsome, handsome love.  Particularly now with the mustache and soul patch facial-hair-that-shall-not-be-named G-O-N-E gone.  We decorated the tree last night, and you actually participated.  You've been actually participating a lot lately, and I find myself wanting to grab ahold of those moments and just squeeze them until I've made sure to get all of the specialness out of them.  But that's not what you're supposed to do with moments like that.  I know this, but I forget.  You're teaching me, by example, to just enjoy them.  Notice them.  Then keep right on living, so that you can have more moments.  

When we talk, even just on the phone for a "hey where are you at okay I'll be back soon" type of chat, I notice that we have our own language.  We've got our own names, like puddin' and handsome, sweet thang and donny, but there's more than that.  Over our years, it seems we've developed our own special blend of north & south speak, melded together with insider information.  Its not abnormal to hear "Grab some pop while you're at the store, eh?" and "dadgum, this youngin' is trying to eat the sweeper".  I like to fancy that we'd be an anomaly to language investigators, were they to watch us.

Then we've got the whole who-needs-to-say-a-whole-sentence thing going on, which makes me feel like we're jiving as nothing else can.  A simple "Hey Mariah, where's the..." followed by "In the basement, back right closet shelf" can find the paper towels without any previous conversation.  It doesn't always happen like magic, but its enough to know that I know you.  

I love knowing you.

Talk to you soon.

<3 M.

My Husband Cleans, and That's a Problem

I know.  We've all got 99 problems, but a husband who cleans 'aint one.

Except for me, it is.  And not a problem in an "I've got to change this, I won't stand for it" type of way.  I'm not stupid.  I realize when I've been handed a precious gift.  Its a problem in a "Mariah has issues she has to overcome by the grace of God" type of way.  In a "My husband nearly lost his head today" sort of way.

This picture has nothing to do with this story, except that it also occurred today.
And yes, it was this amazing.

Let me explain.

About a month ago, Handsome decided that he wanted to have a cleaner house, and he was going to do something about it.  This change was motivated by many things, notably RG's impending mobility, and the desire to model responsible, adult behavior for our bambina.  Good things, really.  And he was serious about his willingness to do the cleaning.

I should be thrilled.  And part of me is thrilled.  Its really nice that he does the dishes, and knows where the vacuum (one "c", two "u"'s, in case you have trouble with that word, too) cleaner is kept.  The problem was that I had trouble listening to him say "I am going to keep the kitchen more clean" and not hearing "You don't keep the kitchen clean enough".  It wasn't what he was saying, and it wasn't implied, but it was heard, all the same.

Poor guy, he thinks I'm loony and wanted to know why I kept twisting the things he said around into something negative.  This all came to a head today, when he asked me, as though it were a new idea, if I could maybe, after Riley was done playing with her toys, pick them back up.  I nearly came. un. glued.  And my thought process was 100% defensive, 100% prideful, and 100% wrong.  I actually went through the stages of grieving, for some weird reason.

Denial:

"Oh no.  OH NO HE DI'NT.  He is not coming up in here and telling me my business.  Is he telling me how to keep house?  Seriously?  No.  No way.  This isn't happening."

Anger:

"Like I don't do that already?  Like I don't pick up after her?  I mean, seriously, I didn't do it this morning, but for the past 9 months I've been picking up after her, and for the past 5 years I've been picking up after him, and if he thinks he's going to pass judgement ON ME..."

Bargaining:

"Well, if he thinks he can say these things about me, I'm going to unload on him where I think he's failing.  That's right.  I might not have picked up after RG this morning, but he left his pants in the bathroom..."

Depression:

"I can't believe he'd says something so hurtful.  Why doesn't he appreciate what I do?  Does he think its easy, being basically a single parent over 50% of the time?  Why is he so mean?  My life is so hard, and he doesn't care."

Husband Happy

This day is done.  We've wrapped it up and we're calling it a huge win, as far as days go.  As far as bloggy things go, it might not be a win, since the only picture I took today was this: 

Boys are so fun.
They let you shoot up their birthday presents, and they're happy about it!

This morning, I dropped my little bean off at her lovely lovely babysitter's, and headed to pick up handsome from work.  I had big plans, all of which I had made in my head and none of which I had verified or scrutinized too closely, so we ended up walking around a community track for the better part of an hour to kill time until the gun shop opened.  And although I was frazzled and disappointed and a leetle stressed at missing my Saturday morning with RG, I shoved all of those feelings down in the dark dungeon of "things that are not real and therefore should not impact your attitude/be used to make decisions" and enjoyed my 2 miles with my hubby on his second day of being 29.

Letters to My Babydaddy :: My Champion

Dear Babydaddy,

I know that it has been more difficult than we thought it would be.  I know that I'm more difficult than you thought I would be.  But you've been a champion.  My champion, to be exact.  Like when I'm tired but I just keep trying, and you pull me close and tell me that I'm such a good mom.  Or when you keep baby so I can have a blissful 20 minutes alone at the grocery store.  But you're especially awesome when I tell you that I feel like I don't know when I'm doing.  That's when you really came through.  Because you didn't commiserate, you didn't just pat me on the back or say "that's okay".  You told me I was wrong.  You pointed out the ways that I do know what I'm doing, the times when I do know how to take care of our Bambina.  That encouragement, that affirmation, it was gold, honey.  You. complete. me.  

The fact that you talk about baby #2 without hesitation makes me think that you're a little bit crazy, but I'll keep you.

<3 M.

Wake Up Call

The following story is mostly for me, just so I don't forget.

****

Handsome woke me up this morning when he got home from work.  "Get up!" He said, and attempted to pull me out of bed by one arm and one leg.  "I have something to show you."

He dragged me to the baby's room.  For a brief second, I thought maybe he found the baby.  You know.   Because the baby was... lost??  Clearly I was still mostly sleeping at this point.  

And then he pulled up the window shade.  Told me to look.

It was the sunrise.

"I thought my truck was on fire" he told me, as he hugged me and let me soak in the beautiful, flaming sky that marked the morning of our bambino's due date.

****

I love this man of mine.  I love that he wants to share things with me, to show me stuff that he thinks is awesome.  That he tells me all of his stories, even when they're long.  And about the specific gun clips/magazines he wants to buy.  Even then.  

<3 M.

Playing Games with Two

My husband.  Golly gee, I just love him.  I've been mooning over this guy, and lucky enough to hold his hand, for over 10 years now.  FOR-EV-ER.  He's pretty much my favorite, bar none.  Even when he says atrocious things like "No, that's not too much cleavage.  There's more coming out of the arm holes than there is in the front, anyhow." 

Bless him.

Anyhow, my biggest concern with the arrival of this new baby is that I'm going to have to share.  Him.  My favorite person ever.  For the past 5 years, as long as we were at home, it was just the two of us and I had his undivided attention (assuming I could hide all of the electronic gaming devices, but that's a story for a different time...).  And now, when we're home, I'll have to split his attention with a tiny human.  Horror of horrors, I tell you what.

However, what's done is done, and I'm sure it won't be as big of a sacrifice as I'm building it up to be.  Or if it is, we won't mind because we'll be so head-over-heels in love with this mini "us".  But as I've mentioned, life will change.  The number of spontaneous trips will dwindle.  Nights "out" will become memories.  We don't have family around, and although there are several lovely people who have offered to watch our progeny for us, I just know that we probably will not take them up on their offers as much as we could/should.

In preparation for such an event, we've made a short list of spur-of-the-moment things we can still do with a baby.  

• Easy hikes to local waterfalls
• Visits to the lake
• (paved) Bike trails with a pull-behind cart
• Picnics
• Backyard bonfires
• 22 pistol practice Walks in the forest

But for nights when we need to stay in, we need ideas too.  I found this list on pinterest, but I wanted some other options, too.  That's where the games come in.  I love board games.  I do.  And so does Handsome.  You wouldn't know it by our extensive collection (Two.) but we do enjoy them.  Problem is, I always forget what games are fun with only two players.  Of course, we could invite people over, but then I have to share my darling husband's attention, and we all know how I feel about that. (see above)  So I've compiled a compilation of two-person board games.  

Boggle .  Jenga .  Scrabble .  Yahtzee .  Battleship .
I know he'll cheat at all of them, but that's part of the fun.

I'd love it if you have any other suggestions.  Y'all have been so helpful with the "What I'll Miss" question that I thought I'd throw another one your way.  But before you mention it, let me tell you just how much of not-a-chance there is that D & I will play Chess.  Zero.  Zip.  Zilch.  Nada.  Not Happening.  I'm not a chess fan.  Really, I don't like games that require intense strategy or thinking.  Makes me go crazy.  Please bear that in mind ;)

<3 M.

Whoville Trees

I love Christmas.  I've switched my calendar to December 2 days early, just so I could see Christmas on the calendar.  I've got the Frank Sinatra Christmas Pandora station rocking.  I've planned and schemed and thought up reasons to make Christmas cookies.  I want to have a party, just for an excuse to make 8 doz different cookies, even though parties are a lot of trouble.  I've made plans to visit family and stockpiled presents and generally gotten in the mood.

Oh, and we got a tree.  EEK!

I love Christmas trees.  Remember, I didn't always have a real Christmas tree.  No sir, Dante wouldn't indulge my whims for the first couple of years of our marriage.  See?

But then the Mister got wise to the fact that I was determined to have a tree, despite his attempts to squash my Christmas spirit (Seriously, the man likes to pretend he's a scrooge.  He said our child is not allowed to like Christmas.  That he's going to beat our kid on Christmas each year so that they despise the holiday as much as he pretends too.  Truth be told, I think he kind of likes the season, he just doesn't know how to admit it.  Oh, and he'd never beat anyone, except at cards, and only because he cheats.)

Anyhow, this year, I tried to up the ante and go to a "cut your own" place.  We've got a good two years of real Christmas trees behind us, and it felt like it was time to make the leap.  So we went to a place near us, that boasted of White Pines and Something Blue and a few types of Cedars...  it was a gamble, but we tried it.  And when we got there, I would have sworn I was in Whoville.  (Seriously, who know Whoville was in rural SC, past the fallen down trailers and over-stuffed garages in what looked to be a Hoarders paradise?)

Are you seeing what I'm seeing?
Anyone else see trees that have obviously been popped open like an umbrella?

How about now?
Seriously, they wanted you to take a tree like this home, and make it your Christmas tree.
I've never seen them like this!
The ones in the background look even more weird and animated-like!

Let's Hear It For My Man!

This guy is having a birthday today:

You may not be able to see him in the above photo, but he's there.
His ability to blend into his surroundings is something I love about him...
GOSH!  It's like he doesn't even have legs in that picture!

My husband likes boring things.  Does anyone else feel that way?  I mean, about the people in your life, not my husband (per say...).  When he told me what he wanted for his birthday, I just stared at him.  Wool toe socks?  Really?  No, I mean, REALLY?  Yep.  BO-RING.  He wanted a heart rate monitor watch, a wool base layer, and these:

That's his birthday watch there in the background.
What can I say? He gets what he wants.

I took him grocery shopping with me (which usually results in him being bored and ramming me with the grocery cart, but thankfully not this time), and struck up a conversation regarding what he wanted for his birthday dinner.  He informed me that he was actually scheduled for some hospital clinical hours on his birthday, and so there would be no birthday dinner.  Hmm...  He then picked up these babies, with longing in his eye, and talked about how delicious they would be.  So we got them, as half of his special birthday treat.  When he eats them, his breath smells like formaldehyde. The part where I don't make him eat them outside and brush his teeth immediately afterwards is the other half.

Sunday Confessions... On Monday

Yes, I know, Sunday Confessions are generally kept to... well, Sunday.  But I was late with the quilt post, and then I was going to put these up last night, until Duke left and went to bed and I thought "You know, perhaps my dog has some sense afterall." and I took myself off to bed.  Of course, that line of reasoning just goes to show how sleep deprived I was, as Duke is currently out of my good graces for the time being.  (He (reportedly) has no manners, ate a stick of taffy and a plastic bag full of coconut oatmeal crispies off of the table, and refused to let a friend into our home.  I guess that's confession 0: I have a poorly behaved pooch, and no idea what to do about it!)

So anyhow, it's late, but it's here.  And I've included pictures of German dancing, to make up for the lateness.  That's right.  I know your weaknesses.

Handsome Is as Handsome Does

Hey.

This is going to be brief.

I'm a bit tired of the whole "Handsome" thing.

I mean, my groom (which doesn't sound as sweet and "awww!"-inducing as when a man says "my bride", and that's just sexist.) is still quite handsome.  Especially considering we've managed to make it through the start of fall without any reappearance of the 'stache. *shudder*

But I'm tired of writing it, and mostly just tired of accidentally typing his name and then having to go back and re-type Handsome.  And so, it's time for the unveiling.  I hope you brought popcorn.

Handsome's name is...

Forgetting

Today, I will be remembering, along with most of America, where I was 11 years ago.

I will also be forgetting.

I will forget with everything in me, as hard and strongly as I can.  I will forget that days like 9/11/01 happen.  I will forget that it could happen again.  

I must forget.  Because if I remember, if I dwell, I will lose it.  If I focus on the fact that, were another day like that day to come, were it to happen again, my Love would be involved.  The one who promised me forever might meet his "ever".  That slays me.

So remember, if you can.  Forget, if you must.  But feel, whatever you do.

Crying jags are my thing,
TFW

Since the Dawn of Time, Part 3

I started this story many many moons ago.  Parts 1, 2, and 4 are in the archives.  However, since I do things in my own order (Remember the curtains?  Bathrooms are still without.) I failed to ever write up part 3.

Basically, Part 3 is how we ended up here

I'm a maverick, what can I say.

Years ago, I had been pestering pressuring gently reminding my boyfriend Handsome that (1) Graduation was in 1 year, (2) I would be moving after graduation, and (3) Most weddings take approximately a year to plan.  Just as an FYI, no pressure.  Definitely not nagging, no, not me, never.

I finally decided to give up on the gentle reminders.  If H didn't mind that his 5-year deadline was fast approaching, then I was determined not to mind either.  I mean, I didn't give up entirely, since I was still crying to my mom at night, telling her that I'd have to end up moving to SC without Handsome, and wasting the last 5 years of my life, and on and on.  But I was trying desperately to be content with my current situation.

Enter July 4th.  I love the fourth of July.  The fireworks, the hot dogs, the overwhelming love for America; I buy into all of it.  And Handsome knows that I love it.  I really thought, this year, on our 5th 4th (wrap your head around that) spent together, I thought that would be it.  Don't get me wrong, I didn't expect the whole sky-writing thing.  Heck, a ring inside a hot dog would have worked for me.

Evening came, evening passed.  Fireworks went off.  We watched, we cuddled, I started to hold my breath.  If I would have kept holding my breath, I would have turned blue & passed out.  No ring.  No promise.  No happily ever after that night.  Torture would have been easier.

#honorhim

Lets start out by saying that I'm not the best housekeeper in the world.  Okay?  Are you all okay with that?  Because it's just fact.  I'm well aware that it is something that could be changed or worked on, as it's mostly habit, but it's just not ever something I worked on much.  Also for the record, I'd like to state that Handsome knew this going in.  I'm sure, when we were dating, I usually had my room clean when he came over (don't worry, we only hung out in there with the door open, and usually the company of my lil' bro.), but at the same time, it was obviously only a surface clean.  

We're talking there may have been cobwebs.  Judge me if it makes you feel better.

Anyhow, Handsome did not grow up in a house with the same laisse faire attitude towards housekeeping.  Handsome himself didn't do much of the work, but his mother worked tirelessly to make sure their home was clean and spotless.  And we're talking deep clean, take a toothbrush to the grout lines, clean.  But since his attitude about it all was pretty lackadaisical (aren't you just loving my words today?!), I thought we made a nice pair.

Then H got old.  Or hit his head.  Or was abducted by aliens.  Either way, about 6 months or more ago, he came home and started telling me all the ways that the current state of the house was not up to par.  He may have even started with "You know what your worst failing is as a wife?"

Best Worst Night Ever

So, when we last left each other, I was setting up the tent for an impromptu backyard campout.

What?  You haven't been waiting with baited breath (I love that saying for some reason) for me to fill you in on the rest of the adventure?  Please, dahling, you're fooling yourself.  You live and die on these pages here.

Alright, back to the story.

So, I set up the tent, and Handsome went to work on getting a campfire going.  Because we all know that a campout isn't a campout without a campfire.  Or without grilled food.  So I started grilling, and then ran out of propane, then ran and got some more propane, and then resumed grilling.  We at at 9:30.  It was most definitely an adventure.  Riveting, really.  We should have just eaten Jiffy Pop.

Can you believe that Handsome had never done the Jiffy Pop thingy?  Oh my, we loved that as kids.  That and the colored popcorn.  Any one else ever do that??  You should know something else.  Something about those new flat marshmallows.  One isn't enough for a s'more.  Its just not.  Two, with chocolate sandwiched in between, is perfect for a s'more.  Just so you know.

Life On Vacation

Some people say that being on vacation all the time gets old.  Personally, I would like the chance to experience such a phenomenon, so that I could then disagree with them.  Vacation treats this girl goood!  With Handsome's schedule being what it is, and Paramedic school looming on the horizon, we're trying to make each of his days off like a mini vacation.

These mirrors are called Donkey Ears.
The driver's side mirror is all smashed, thanks to this little fiasco.
Still not fixed.

Yesterday, the hubs and I went out to try my skills on the greens.  I am no golfer.  Hubs, he's a pro, as far as I can tell; played in highschool, BFF's parents owned a course, basically his summers revolved around the back 9.  Or something like that.  Basically I'm just stringing together what I believe to be golf terms, but you already knew that.

That thing I'm doing there with my back leg?
Apparently you're not supposed to do that.
There's your golf tip for the day.

I'm not a great golfer, as I've said.  And as you can see from the picture.  I'm not in love with golfing.  But (a) Handsome only gets so many days off, and so I try and do whatever he wants on those days, and (b) Hubs likes when I come and play his sports with him, even when I'm no good.  As long as I don't lose my temper or just out & out quit (which happens more than I like to admit), it makes hubs happy when I try.  And when hubs is happy, his girl is happy.

I'm smiling because its over.
Speaking of over, I finished +28.
On a 9-hole.
That's bad, in case you didn't know.

I think him and I, we could do well if we lived a life of vacation.  I don't think we'd tire of it, as long as we didn't have to golf the whole time.  Have a good May, y'all.  I hope you find some time for a mini vacation or two!

Knocking "Golf-Pro" off of my list,

TFW

Why I Love Wifing: A Future

I am no expert in the art of Wifing (you know, being a wife!).  I do not have any market cornered, not FireWife, YoungWife, ObedientWife, or LovelyWife.  Basically, I'm making this all up as I go along, and sometimes it shows.  

But one thing I am is enthusiastic.

Enthusiastic: As in, the opposite of what Handsome is when he takes pictures.
That's his "big" smile.

I'm a big fan of being married.  I pretty much love it and would recommend it to anyone.  Its not always easy, and sometimes it doesn't seem like it will ever be easy.  But good things aren't easy.  And getting to be a wife to a great man is totally worth it.  To remind myself of that, I'm periodically going to post about the things I love about wifing.  Yes, there are less-than-good things that go along with it all, but those are way to easy to remember.  Its the good things that often get forgotten in the midst of life, and its the good things that deserve to be preserved for all time, or at least for as long as the interwebs last.

ASIDE:  Have you ever wondered how long the internet will last?  I mean, I'm sure when all technology was new, people didn't think about the day when it would become obsolete.  Who would have ever guessed that 8-track (or is it A-track?) tapes would go out of style?  This leads to bigger questions, like what will replace the internet?  Mind control, most likely.

Names and Titles

Want to know what I love?  I would love for you to share with me, what you love.  And since I'm assuming you're a little bit like me (but not too much, don't worry), I'm going to assume that you want to know what else I love.

I love when handsome calls me something that's not my real name.  Even if it's "Mrs. Motor Oil" like I got yesterday when I showed up at the fire station.  Those guys, they thought it was hilarious that I had slicked my hair down while changing my oil.  Sometimes it's sweet, and that's normal to like.  And sometimes it's a joke or a wisecrack, and maybe you're not supposed to like being called things like that.

But I do.  It lifts my heart.  Makes me happy to be so... known.  

I guess people who don't know you could call you something other than what your name is, but that's hardly ever heart-lifting.  

My grandmas, they call me MeMe (although one spells it MiMi).  It's a grandma name, which is fitting in a backwards sort of sense.  I've been called that by them, ever since I was a baby.  Something about running towards the couch yelling, I don't remember much of it.  But I love when they call me that, too.  

Being called "Thee FireWife", well, I think that's sort of weird.  But it seems that everyone who knows anything keeps telling me that branding yourself is key.  "Key" to what?  I'm not sure.  I still don't know what I'm doing on here, other than connecting with you peeps.  

ASIDE:  Oh no.  Peeps.  Now I've done it.  My mind is on a candy craving again.  23 days until Good Friday.  Is that when Lent is over? Gosh, I'm not good at this!

Not a Tutorial

I love my Jeep.  I do.  I've said this before, it isn't the vehicle that I would have picked; Handsome picked it for me.  And I'm so glad he did.  It's great in the winter, what with the four-wheel-drive (4WD) and all that.  Summer, however, is when it really shines.  

This is the life, people.  When I see the stickers that say, "It's a Jeep Thing" well, I still don't quite understand that.  But I know why they wanted to put it on there.  Because, on any given day, whenever they want to, they too can drive around with this here view.  It's fabulous.  Give me a call, we'll go for a ride & I'll make a believer out of you.