My Anniversary Weekend

Hello, Hello, Helllllooooo... Hi! Hey, Y'all! So glad to see you! Thank you to everyone who has expressed an interest in my health and well-being. And, to those who'd wondered if I'd turned to poop and the hogs ate me. So, let me start by saying that I have not turned to feces and been eaten by the other white meat. Also, I am fine and dandy. I have just been extremely busy and my brain has been on overload - incapable of trying to string together coherent sentences that anyone would want to read on this little ol' blog of mine. Hopefully, now that homeschool group is done for the year, I'll be able to get back to blogging a little more regularly. Now that we've gotten that out of the way...

OK. So what in tarnation have I been up to exactly? Well, of course you know that I started a business this year and opened a shop on Etsy, PURE YANKABILLY - All Natural Skincare. That's where the majority of my brain cells have been recently. Y'all, there is a LOT of work that is involved in starting a business. It's not just making products, taking pictures and uploading them to Etsy. That's actually the smallest part of it. Who knew?... Anyway, Isaac is still homeschooled and we are part of a homeschool group. So, we've had that and several days of Stanford Testing. And, for some weird reason my family expects me to still feed them and make sure they have clean undies and all. You understand about that, right? In the midst of my new normal, though, we've tried to squeeze in a few fun thing, too. Today I'll share a bit about one of these mini trips with you.

Last month Chris and I celebrated our 17th wedding anniversary. In trying to think of something fun to do in honor of it, we decided to take a weekend trip to Columbus, OH where it all began for us. We wanted to take Isaac along and show him all of "our" special places - where we met, where we went to school, where we dated, our first apartment, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

The closer we got to the city and as that lovely skyline came into view, we got really excited. Well, Chris and I did anyway. Floods of old memories and the feelings that came with them started rolling in. Then, we came to the area that we once called home. To say that it had changed would be a colossal understatement. It had been really nice when we lived there. Now, not so much... Anyway, we checked into our hotel and began our expedition. Oh yeah, our hotel wasn't even there 17 years ago. Neither was the mini city that used to be cornfields surrounding it.

Y'all, it was CRAZY! CRAZY, I say! Our journey to 'us' began when we met at Meijers (a northern version Walmart, only nicer), where we both worked. We got off of work at 2 in the morning and the only place open at that time was the Waffle House that occupied the front of the Meijers parking lot. So, that was where we went every night when we got off work to drink tea and talk until we had to go get a few hours of shut-eye before school. People, they closed Meijers down! It was just an empty, dilapidated shell of a building! Then, they had torn down the Waffle House and built a new one in a different location of the same parking lot. So, even though there was still a Waffle House there - it wasn't "our" Waffle House. Bummer... After that disappointment, we decided to go see our first apartment that we lived in after we got married. It. had. changed. ALOT. It was a pretty new and pretty nice neighborhood back in the day. Now, though...well, let's just say that we were afraid to slow down to snap a picture of it.

 After that, I had Chris drive by my first apartment there. And, lo and behold, it hadn't been torn down or moved or changed into a new super center or anything.

I lived in the first floor apartment right there where the grill is. Ironically, the name of the apartment complex is "The Moors" and my new last name is also Moore. I think it was destiny. Yep. Lots of memories there. I lived there with 4 other girls. The people above us sounded like they moved the furniture at least a few nights a week to hold line dancing parties. Of course, we probably weren't much quieter. That apartment complex was more like a dorm and our place seemed to be a major hang-out. At least one thing about Columbus hadn't changed so far...

We moved on to see the old school. You guessed her... The old campus had been sold. It wasn't there anymore. The school had relocated and had changed names. See, I told you it was crazy. By this time it was getting late so we hit the Walmart that hadn't existed 17 years ago for drinks for the night, grabbed some take-out from the Popeye's that popped up out of nowhere and headed back to the hotel that used to just be a cornfield.

The next morning dawned with fresh hopes of finding and exploring the parks that we used to picnic at and walk the trails. We also thought we'd head out to Hocking Hills, which is only a short 40 minute drive away. But, alas, it was not to be. It was raining. Not that all out frog chokin' kind of rain - just the kind that was light enough to be a nuisance. We knew Hocking Hills would be a bad idea because you just really don't want to go walking trails high in the cliffs on wet rock. We figured we could still go find our old parks, though. But, you guessed it, we could not find them for the life of us. Everything was so built up and new roads and towns expanded to the point where nothing was recognizable. And, if it hadn't been for GPS we would have been totally lost.

On to Plan B. We decided to go find one of our favorite towns, Granville, OH. It's a beautiful little town nestled in the hills and home to Denison University.

We used to love to take the beautiful back roads and drive through those gorgeous hills, enjoying each other's company as well as the view. It was magical - especially during Autumn when the leaves were in peak color. It was also the place where this incident happened.

Although it was rainy, it was still beautiful. Here's a bit of it's charm - although there ain't nothing like the real thing, Baby.

brick roads

quaint churches

lovely houses

and this charming town full of incredibly cool restaurants and stores

like this one.

It's a very French-y type store

with darling vignettes every place you look.

Granville also has this hotel.

It's supposed to be haunted. We didn't go in to find out.

A brief trip through Granville was all we could handle. Not only was it still drizzling, it had gotten c.o.l.d. It looked like everything we had planned for our anniversary get-away and trip down memory lane had been doomed from the git-go. I didn't even mention how our original hotel reservations had fallen through when we were only about an hour away and our room ended up costing more for one night than our original reservations had been for 2. So, we decided that we would stop for a nice, warm lunch and head on back to home-sweet-home.

Although nothing went as we had envisioned for that weekend, all-in-all it was still nice to get away for the night. We also learned a good lesson. You can't relive the past. Time marches on whether we want it to or not. So, it was a good reminder to enjoy the memories of our lives just for what they are - good memories - and focus on making new ones. Which is exactly what that weekend ended up being. Now we can look back and say, "Hey, remember that time we went to Columbus to show Isaac all of our old places and our history and not one thing went right because everything had changed?"

Have you ever tried to take a trip down memory lane only to find it had turned into a super-highway?

This is where I was last night...

Sitting in the Hoosier Lottery Grandstands at the Indiana State Fair.

This is why...

Recognize these guys?

How 'bout this guy?

Alright then...Can you make out the name?  Let me help you.  Mercy Me.

Chris and I had a little date night and went to see Mercy Me and Third Day at the state fair.  Together.  Does it GET any better than that?  I had never seen Mercy Me in concert before, and let me just say, I was impressed.  They were awesome!  You always know when a band has got some skills because they don't sound any different live than they do on their CDs.  Y'all, Bart Millard's got some chops. Seriously.  And, FUNNY.  He kept me laughing.  Very refreshing.  Except for when he grouped me in with the old people - you know the ones who grew up in the 80's and wore parachute pants.  I liked him until that moment.  Nah, I'm just kidding.  Except for the part about the parachute pants.  I totally had a pair of those.  Sign me up for another Mercy Me concert.

By the time Third Day came on it was dark out and I couldn't get a decent picture.

This is the best photo I could get of Mac Powell.  Clearly, I won't be taking home a blue ribbon in photography for this shot.  I won't go into great length about their portion of the concert, either, except to say that they DID NOT disappoint 'cause y'all already KNOW how much I love Third Day.

The Lord was looking down on us with love last night.  Well, he always looks down us with love.  Maybe it would be more accurate to say he was looking down on us with compassion.  And a cold front.  Yes, compassion and a cold front.  You see, it's been wicked hot here for well over a month - just like most of the country, I guess.  But, having experienced temps in the upper 90's and often over 100 degrees with the 'feels like' temp - let's just say 'grateful' would be an understatement for the 78 degrees we experienced last night.  The seats were so tight that I now have first hand knowledge of what it would feel like to be a sardine.  If we didn't have that cold front come through, not only would it have been miserable hot, but people would've been stinkin' to high heavens.  And, I really don't want some body else's sweaty arm rubbing up against me - not even if it's my own.  I'm a lady and I don't like to sweat. :0)  Gah! But, thankfully, that wasn't an issue.  Not only was it very comfortable temperature wise, but there was a glorious breeze.

All in all, it was a great and memorable date night - great weather, great music and my best friend.  Life is sweet.  Very, very sweet. :0)

Happy 15th Anniversary, My Love

"Place me like a seal over your heart,

like a seal on your arm;

for love is as strong as death,

its jealousy unyielding as the grave.

It burns like blazing fire,

like a mighty flame.

Many waters cannot quench love;

rivers cannot wash it away.

If one were to give

all the wealth of his house for love,

it would be utterly scorned."

~Song of Songs 8:6-7

Thank you for 15 years of filling my life with joy and my heart with love.  Words cannot describe the measure of my love for you.

Happy Anniversary, My Love - You complete me.

"I love you - those three words have my life in them."

~By Alexandria to Nicholas III~

I am married to a manly man.  He loves football, NASCAR, MMA fighting, building things, fixing things.  Any Clint Eastwood shoot 'em up will cause him to make grunting sounds like Tim Taylor did in 'Home Improvement'.  He's...you know, a man's man.

Imagine my surprise last night when I came downstairs to find him watching this - all by himself...

I grinned when I saw him. 

He says, "This is a good movie."

"Yeah, it is.  I just didn't expect to come downstairs and find you watching a chick flick all by yourself."

"Well, I like it."

So, I snuggled in next to him to watch the remainder of it.  We were on a roll, so we followed up with 'How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days'.  Good times, gooood times...

I'm glad my manly man isn't afraid to get in touch with his feminine side at times.  It's just one more reason why I love him...

It's Just Not The Same Between Us...

I have a confession to make.  As I crawled into my bed to lay next to my wonderful husband in the wee hours of the night, I had a thought of unfaithfulness.  But, wait...it's not what you think.  My thought wasn't about being unfaithful to my man.  It was about cheating on my bed.  You see we have a history...

When I was about 12 or 13 years old I begged and pleaded for a waterbed.  I loved my super-single, full-motion waterbed.  Oh, how, I loved it with all the love you could give a bed.  But, for some moment of insanity later in my teenage years, I allowed my parents to talk me into switching to a regular twin bed.  I don't even remember the particulars about why it would be best.  All I know is that I missed my waterbed.  Then, during my second year of college when I met my sweetheart and we married - fate stepped in.

When my man was 12 years old he took a paper route so he could save money to buy....you guessed it! A full-motion waterbed!  Our love was destiny, the sheer hand of God - for I had met a mate who would love to sleep in the comfort of the waves with me...(sigh)...  Naturally, when we got married and bought our bed we went for a king sized, full-motion waterbed.  We're old school, baby!  None of that waterbed disguised as a real bed crap for us.  Go full-motion or stay home!  Sorry.

We've been married nearly 15 years now.  That bed has served us well.  It has moved 6 times with us.  It's always warm and cozy when we crawl into it at night.  A gentle flick of my foot and it rocks me to sleep.  Mmmm...  But lately... well, let's pretend it were a person.  Here's what I would say.

Dear Waterbed,

I know we have a great history together.  We've had some good times, too.  I love how you've always been there for me, comforting me when I was sick, warming me when I was cold, rocking me gently to sleep every night.  But, lately, things just aren't the same.  I don't feel that you support me like you used to.  This is hard because, well, support is a big part of our relationship. 

I have a confession to make to you.  I've been having thoughts about other beds.  Like tonight, when I went to get back into your warmth after a brief trip to the lavoratory.  I had that old familiar feeling in my lower back.  It wasn't a good one, either.  My mind immediately went to Amanda's (my sister) new Tempurpedic.  I've been fantasizing about those beds a lot for about a year or more now.  They promise no pressure points - that would be good since you don't seem to keep my hands from going numb at night.  They claim perfect support - I've already told you my beef about that.

It's not you.  It's me.  I've changed.  I'm not the same woman that I was 15 years ago.  You've been a good and faithful bed.  But, I think I need more than you can offer me now.  I just wonder if I could ever love another bed as much as I've loved you.  Could Chris ever love another?  These are some of the things that we need to work out.  But, no matter what happens in the future always know that I really, truly loved you - and a part of me always will.

Pam

So Good To Me

Y'all my man is sooo good to me! He surprised me by scheduling an hour long massage for me last night. Oh. My. I can't even begin to tell you how good that felt! You probably have an idea if you've ever had one. And, if you've never gotten a massage...you need to put it on your Christmas wish list. Seriously.

During the day yesterday, I had washed our sheets then just threw them on the bed while the coverlet was in the dryer. We have a full motion, king size waterbed, so I usually wait for the Mr. to get home before I make the bed. It's so much easier with two. Well, after this wonderfully surprising massage last night - I get home to find not only did he have my supper waiting on me, but he had made the bed up by himself AND did more laundry and folded it! Quite frankly, I was feeling so pampered that it left me speechless. God, I love that man!

"He Said I Have Dog Jaw."

I love this time of year. The bright sunshine. The humidity free days. The chilly 'I want to snuggle with you under a blanket.' nights. The turning of the leaves. The smell. Autumn has a unique smell. Part of it has to do with the bonfires. But it's more than that. Maybe the rotting leaves? That might be the only rotting smell I actually enjoy. Whatever the 'smell' it is - I like it.

Fall always seems to be sprinkled with a little mischief, too. Maybe because it's the season of Halloween. Maybe it's because I'm my father's daughter. Dad is a real prankster. He has this old, ugly mask that he always put on at Halloween and then he would hide in the bushes waiting for Trick-or-Treaters so he could jump out and scare the bejeepers of them. I don't know how he ever managed to keep from getting decked at some point. Oh, the stories I could tell on my dad. But, they will have to wait. I want to to talk about me today! Well, me and my man, actually. It's my blog so I can do that, right?

Back when me and my man were dating we loved to take drives and look at the leaves. We were living in a suburb of Columbus at the time. One of our favorite spots was this little village called Granville. It is a hilly, quaint, New England style town that absolutely oozes with charm. We would head over there and drive around beautiful Denison University and past the hotel that was reported to be haunted. We would admire the leaves and bask in our little 2 person 'I'm So Crazy In Love With You I Could Just Pee My Pants Festival'. It was pretty near heaven on earth.

One night while we were on one of these semi-regular Fall Love Fests, romance was really in the air. It was electric. As Mr. Wonderful drove us around those hills whose trees looked like they had been lit with fire, he ever so gently caressed the back of my head, my neck, my cheek with his free right hand. I basked in the warmth of his feelings for me. It was almost magical. Then something came over me.

I told him how my jaw had been bothering me. I told him that it had a knot in it and that I had seen the doctor about it.

"What did the doctor say?"

"He said I have something called Dog Jaw. Here, you want to feel?"

At that point he reached his hand out to feel the invasive lump on the side of my face. That's when I snapped my face toward his hand, growled and acted like I was going to bite him.

I think he nearly messed himself. He said I totally ruined the romantic mood. Whaaaa? He didn't find that a turn on? We had a good laugh out of it, though. Well, at least I did, anyway. I haven't tried that anymore since that almost perfectly romantic night 15 years ago. But he's still leery of my wacky sense of humor. I can't image why.

So, what have we learned today? I love Fall. I love my man. I am my father's daughter. And, lastly, but most importantly; if someone tells you they have Dog Jaw - for the sake of your clean underwear, don't believe them.

How NOT To Fish

My family likes to fish. OK. I like to do things with my husband and HE likes to fish. Kapeesh? I really do have fun with him whatever we are doing - so it really doesn't matter. Anyway...back during the first year of our marriage, we decided to go catfishin' at a pay pit one night. The whole concept of the pay pit is that they stock it with fish, so you're supposed to be able to catch fish when you go. Right? That sounds great, in theory. But, this night...well, the fish just weren't biting. I got bored. I mean, when you go fishing and you actually get some action - it's pretty fun. But, when you just keep sitting there doing nothing but staring at a stationary bobber - it can be quite a yawner. I know there are many men who would disagree with me. These are probably the same men who think that shopping even if you don't find anything is a total waste of time. So, whatever...

Back to my story. I got bored. Then I got creative. I realized that bullfrogs will bite anything that you put in front of them. So, I quit fishin' and started bullfroggin'. MW thought that seemed like fun, so he joined in. Then he had a brilliant idea! He suggested that we bring the bullfrogs home and have frog legs for dinner. I've never had frog legs before - but, hey, MW likes them. And he assured me that they taste like chicken! :0) That was good enough for me.

We caught enough bullfrogs for dinner and took them home. We were so excited! We were gonna have frog legs for dinner! We didn't think through the whole process beforehand, though. Once we got them to the kitchen sink and got ready to prepare them, we couldn't figure out how to actually get their legs off. Do we cut them off while they're still alive? What would we do with the rest of their maimed selves after we cut their legs off? Please, we're not that cruel. Do we kill them first and then cut their legs off? That would be more humane, right? (If you belong to PETA - PLEASE, quit reading now.) How do we even kill them? Knock them in the head? What do we knock them in the head with? What if we knock them in the head and they don't die? What if they just pass out and then we cut their legs off they wake up from the amputation and start hopping around the kitchen all one legged and bloody like? No, we couldn't have that either. We were sort of in a pickle. We had all of these frogs and didn't know what to do with them.

The only thing that we could think to do was get some water boiling, put the frogs in the boiling water, cook them and then cut the back legs off of the dead frogs. Easy peasy. It was a plan. But, it wasn't a great plan. It wasn't even a good plan. Oh, we put those big bullfrogs in boiling water and cooked them alright. But, when we took the lid off of the pot we weren't expecting what we saw. Somehow, the frogs had expanded during cooking and they didn't look right. They were all grey and their eyes had melted. Ew, gross! Suddenly, MW and I had totally lost our appetite for frog legs. I'm pretty sure that I've never eaten them to this day.

So, what have we learned today? Sometimes you should just stick to shopping.

Have a great day!
Pam

Kitchen Fiascos.

My kitchen skills fluctuate between culinary genius and raging disaster. I am a good cook. My husband tells me so. My son tells me so. My - bible - tells - me - so...Oh, wait that one was from "Jesus Loves Me". It's just that sometimes things go awry.

Growing up at our house meant that it was just us 3 'women' for dinner during the week because Dad worked 2nd shift. With a busy schedule, the routine was that whoever got home first started dinner - either me or Mom. So, I ended up doing a lot of cooking. I loved to cook. I loved to experiment and make up new recipes or tweak old ones. One of my favorite compliments that my dad would give me is when he would say, "Boy, you're gonna make some man a happy husband some day 'cause you sure can cook!" I'm no Paula Deen. But I can get a palate pleasing dinner on the table most nights. But, there are those raging disasters I mentioned earlier.

The first one that comes to mind happened when I was still a teenager living with my parents. We ate a lot of chicken breasts which can get boring (if I say so) unless you jazz them up with a little variety. I loved to make 'orange chicken' if we had oranges in the fridge. I don't remember exactly what I did, but I know it consisted of baking the chicken with sliced oranges and some of the juice. One night when I was doing dinner we didn't have oranges. We had grapefruit. Hmmm...I love grapefruit. I substituted and made 'grapefruit chicken". Ugh! Pft, pft, blah! It was completely and totally inedible - a raging disaster. I don't remember what we ended up doing for dinner that night, but it didn't include that chicken! It was hilarious though, because shortly after that we saw a chef on TV making 'grapefruit chicken'. Maybe I was on to something. Or not.

Growing up in a Southern family we ate a lot of biscuits and gravy. Mmmm...I love me some biscuits and gravy! It's still one of my favorite foods. Does flour, milk and butter actually qualify as foods? Who cares? It's soooo good! My granny and mom taught me how to make homemade biscuits. I had them perfected. Then I went off to college and basically quit cooking for a couple of years. Then I got married to a man's man. Not a salad eatin' (though he does love a good salad), granola kind of man. A meat and potato, my dad was a butcher kind of man. Ooooh, how he enjoys a good meal! Shortly after we were married I wanted to impress him with my skills. I was gonna make him homemade biscuits and gravy. Oh, how I poured my heart out into that flour, butter and buttermilk. I caressed that dough with all the love I had in my heart for that studly man of mine. I was such a proud wife when I pulled those biscuits out of the oven. Then we tried to eat them. They were more fit for the National Hockey League than they were for dinner. I swear it was like trying to eat a hockey puck. I don't remember what we did for dinner that night, either. I just know it didn't include those biscuits - and I use that term very loosely here. I was so deflated after that incident that I took to using canned biscuits for the next 14 years. It's only been the past couple of months that I've had the courage to reacquaint myself with the art of biscuit-making.

Of course, we can't forget the reason I bake all of my French fries now.

More recently, I discovered that you have to have an attention span longer than that of a 2 year old if you want to do something as simple as boil eggs.

My most recent kitchen fiasco happened this weekend, though. We have some dear, sweet next door neighbors - Bob and Teresa. Bob is 86 and Teresa turned 81 on Saturday. I found out about her birthday Friday evening as we were talking over the fence. Isn't that a nice, neighborly custom? I don't think people talk over the fence as much as they used to when I was growing up. Anyhoo...I wanted to do something nice for Teresa for her birthday. Teresa probably weighs about as much as the years she's spent on this earth. There really isn't much to her. She reminds me of my Ain't Clayter in that respect. Taking this into consideration and the fact that when we were having a bonfire with some friends in the fall, she brought over the left over cupcakes she had from when they had company - I figured she's not much of a sweet eater. That pretty much eliminated making cake or cookies. But seeing how I hadn't planned on baking something Saturday, my pantry options were very limiting. I did have a can of pumpkin, though. I could always make Pumpkin Bread. Yeah, that would work. It's not nearly as sweet as cake or cookies. Pumpkin Bread it is - even though it's June. Whatever. It's the thought that counts, right? Well...I've never actually made Pumpkin Bread before. That meant that I would have to find a recipe for it. I found the recipe in one of my old church cookbooks. With all of the things church people can't do - they have darn near perfected the art of cooking. This was going to be great! Or so I thought.

I followed the directions to a T. I mixed the sugar and oil in my Kitchen Aid. I incorporated the eggs one at a time. Then it said to start adding the dry ingredients a little at a time, adding the water as needed. Huh? I read the ingredients again. Yep. There it was; 2/3 cup water. So, I alternated - a little of the dry ingredients, a little of the water. Is this right? This doesn't look right. This looks too soupy to be bread. This looks like way too much batter for one loaf of bread. Hmmm...maybe it's supposed to make two loafs of bread and they just forgot to add it to the recipe. But, I pressed on following the instructions. It wasn't my recipe - who was I to question? So I poured the batter into the loaf pan. I had enough batter left over for a second loaf. Good. One for Teresa. One for us. I put it into my pre-heated oven. I set the timer to check on it in 45 minutes. I go about my business. Little Britches hollers at me a while later that he smells something burning. "No biggie.", I thought. "It's just that a little of the batter has probably bubbled over and is burning on the bottom of the oven." After 45 minutes the bread is still completely soupy in the center and 1/2 of it is burning on the bottom of my oven. I press on. Maybe 15 more minutes would finish it off. Nope. The only thing 15 more minutes did was cause my house to look like a training exercise in smoke inhalation for the fire department. And the bread was still soupy. 2/3 cup water my big, fat butt! What the recipe should have read was: If batter is too stiff, you may add up to 2/3 cup water to thin it down.... So, I took Teresa her card. It read; Happy 81st Birthday! I was going to bake you some delicious, homemade Pumpkin Bread, but nearly set my oven on fire (Which has actually happened to me. That's another post, though). So, all I got you was this crappy card! Are you kidding me? I don't want her knowing I'm an idiot savant in the kitchen! She did end up with just a card, though.

So, what have learned to today? a) All stereo-types are wrong, wrong, wrong. Bad, bad, bad. Just because someone attends church and submits a recipe to the fund-raising cook book, it does not automatically mean they can actually cook. b) Listen to your intuition. If that voice keeps telling you that something doesn't look right - then it probably isn't right. If that voice tells you to place a cookie sheet under whatever it is that your baking, listen. c) Place a cookie sheet under whatever you're baking. :0) d) Don't multi-task too much when cooking. Working with things that can make you homeless if left unattended for too long requires more attention than a 2 year old can give. And finally, e) Dyson vacuum cleaners are not only good on floors, they're good on ovens, too.

P.S. The car wax is working perfectly on the faucet!

Fabulous New Bent On Lasagna - And A Side Note

Let's start with the side note, shall we? Not that you really have a say in the matter, but I thought I'd be nice. :0) My dearest, loving, supportive, phenomenal, virile husband, Mr. Wonderful (MW), mentioned to me last night that he thought I made him sound like a villain in this post. I told him I didn't think he sounded like a villain. I think it's quite humorous, myself. It's one of those endearing quirks that gives us both a good laugh. Him especially! Just kidding, honey. I also reminded him of all of the other posts where I illuminated just how rockin' he is, like this one. Keep in mind that he was NOT whining here. He was actually laughing. He laughs a lot, if you haven't figured that out by now. BUT, and that's a big but, he did want me to share with you one of his most heroic adventures EVER. I love him dearly, so I shall accommodate his request.

MW has always been extremely squeamish. I like those TV shows where you can watch people having surgery performed on them. That totally grosses him out and he can't watch it. Well, when I was pregnant with Little Britches I got really sick and they had to deliver him early - by Cesarean section. You know what this entails if you've ever had it done - so I'll spare the graphic details. I am going to be graphic here, though. There were several days post op that I couldn't wipe myself when using the toilet. I told you. Despite his squeamish nature, MW came in like a champ and did it for me without a moment's hesitation. All he said is that I would do the same for him. That, dear friends, is love.

Now that we've said all that - are you hungry for lasagna? HAAAA!

Last night I tried a new recipe from our friends at The Gooseberry Patch. If you aren't familiar with them - you really need to check them out. I love their cookbooks. Not only is the food yummy, they use familiar ingredients. You don't sit there thinking, "What the heck is jicama?". The pages are also filled with easy craft and entertaining ideas. So, basically, go to the library and check out The Gooseberry Patch.

MW isn't a fan of red sauce, so, I've never made lasagna before, even though I love the stuff. When I came across this recipe I knew the flavors in it would be ones that would go over in a HUGE way with my family. I wasn't wrong. It isn't very difficult to make and will make you look like a culinary genius if you prepare it for guests. No joke. Are you ready for it? Here goes.

Garlic White Lasagna

1 1/2 lbs. hot Italian sausage in casings (I used regular Italian sausage without casings and added my own fennel seeds and Italian seasonings. You probably wouldn't have to do that, though.)
4 large cloves garlic, chopped
1 medium onion, chopped
12-oz jar roasted red pepper, drained and chopped
1/2 c. white wine
10-oz pkg. frozen chopped spinach
15-oz container ricotta cheese
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. pepper
1 egg, lightly beaten
2 (16-oz) jars creamy Alfredo sauce
12 lasagna noodles, uncooked (Save yourself some effort and buy the kind that you don't have to boil first.)
2 (6-oz) pkgs. sliced mozzarella cheese
1 c. grated or finely shredded refrigerated Parmesan cheese

Remove and discard sausage casing. Brown sausage in a large skillet over medium heat, using a wooden spoon to crumble sausage as it cooks.

Drain sausage, reserving one tablespoon drippings in skillet. Cook garlic and onion in reserved drippings over medium-high heat until onion is tender. Stir in sausage, chopped red pepper and wine. Bring to a boil; reduce heat and simmer, uncovered, 5 minutes or until most of liquid has evaporated.

Meanwhile, cook spinach according to package directions (* I skipped this step since it was going to be in the oven for an hour anyway.); drain and squeeze between paper towels to remove excess liquid. Combine spinach, ricotta cheese and next 3 ingredients; stir well.

Spread one cup Alfredo sauce in a greased 13"x9" backing dish. Top with 4 uncooked noodles. Top with half of spinach mixture and half of sausage mixture. Place 4 slices mozzarella over sausage mixture. Repeat layers.

Top with remaining 4 noodles and mozzarella slices. Spread remaining Alfredo sauce over mozzarella cheese. Sprinkle with Parmesan cheese. (If desired, cover and chill overnight. Let stand at room temperature 30 minutes before baking.)

Cover and bake at 350 degrees for one hour, uncovering during the last 15 minutes of baking. Let stand 15 minutes before serving. Makes 8 servings.

*Note - I did all of my chopping in the food processor to cut down on prep time. I also mixed the ricotta/egg mixture in the food processor - no sense dirtying more dishes than necessary. It looks like a lot of steps - but it's really mostly just the layering process. So, don't be intimidated - it's truly an easy recipe.

Have a Happy Friday!

That's My Story and I'm Sticking To It!

Yesterday was a little more exciting than I hoped it would have been. We always pre-program the coffee pot to grind the beans and brew the coffee before we get up of a morning so we have a fresh pot waiting on us when we get out of bed. Very typical - I know. Anyway, yesterday morning there was hot coffee all over the counter when MW made it to the kitchen to get us a cup of Joe. We just figured that it had not flipped the bean holder part where the ground beans go. (Yes. That is a completely made up name for the bean thingy.) Not a big deal. So, we cleaned it up and went on with our merry day.

Well, after breakfast I decided to grind up the Serrano peppers that have been drying out since we plucked them from our garden last summer. Little did I know that the dust from those little flamers would get all up my nose and in my lungs. I had to end up wearing a bandanna over my nose and mouth just to get through it. Even with that perty blue bandanna on (I was a lovely sight - still in my bathrobe.) my nose was running and I was coughing so hard I thought I was going to throw up.

So, after I was done with those dried out little hotties I hit the shower. I fixed my hair. I went outside to sprinkle my newly ground powdered fire on my tulip and iris bulbs to keep the adorable neighborhood squirrels and rabbits from eating my precious glints of colored glory from being eaten. Then...the wind caught the pepper dust and blew it right up into my eye. Don't try that at home, by the way. Because it hurts. REALLY. REALLY. REALLY. badly. I ran to the sink with my arms flailing like a wild woman and began to rinse my swollen, blood red, burning eye with cold water. It didn't help. It hurt worse to open my eye. But I did - long enough to take my contact out. Yes, that was also my last pair of contacts. Then I rinsed it some more. NOT HELPING!

I decided to do the next reasonable thing. I called my husband at work. Like, really, any rational woman would realize that: A)He is AT WORK! What is he going to be able to do for me from 45 minutes away?, B)Did I REALLY think he would know what to do for Serrano pepper dust in the eyeball? and finally, C)For all of his thousands of wonderful qualities he truly is useless to me in these types of crises situations.

Shall I explain? Yes, thank you, I shall.

Example #1 - The Lowery Park Zoo, Tampa, FL
We took a family trip to the Lowery Park Zoo one time and was having a wonderful time. Me and MW, anyway. Little Britches was completely unimpressed even though this zoo was rated the #1 children's zoo in the nation. This was typical for my little homebody at the time. Sea World, Disney, blah, blah, blah - same story. He'd have just rather been at home. Anyway, we went into the aviary where you could interact with gajillions of beautiful, exotic birds (I made that really big number up. Perhaps you've heard of it?). They even had little cups of nectar that you could hold and some of the birds would come eat out of your hand. How cool! Unless you're me. Thousands upon thousands of people have come through that little piece of paradise with nothing but fabulous memories and pictures of docile little winged creatures sipping liquid love from their hands. I, on the other hand, try to block out that experience altogether. Except right now because I'm trying to make a point. A really lengthy point. But, it's my blog and I can ramble if I want to. Read the title of my blog, people! OK. Sorry, I just needed to get that out. Back to the bird place, thing. Well, Little Britches and MW each have their cups of nectar. They are giggling while watching sweet little birdies eat out of their hands. I want to have fun, too! I pick up a little cup and fill it with nectar. As I hold out my hand, I watch a bird approach and land on me. I must have been holding my hand wrong. Maybe I smelled funny. I don't know. Maybe the bird was hormonal. Maybe he was really Satan. That sucker started attacking me! Peck. Peck. Peck.... Have you ever been attacked by a bird? Well, I'm telling ya, it's NOT fun! I was screaming. It wouldn't get off of me. It just kept attacking me. This is where MW comes in. I started yelling for my beloved to rescue his bride. "Please...Help. Me!" "Heeeeelllllllppppp Meeeee!" But he couldn't 'cause he was too busy...laughing. I'm talking about the I can hardly breathe, I've fallen to my knees and am getting ready to wet myself kind of laughter. He never did make it to my side. I had to wait until that demonic little creature had gotten his fill of unleashing his hellish wrath on me. I was utterly traumatized. I promise that if my future ever holds another trip to the Lowery Park Zoo in Tampa, FL - I will NOT, I repeat, will NOT be venturing into the aviary. Nope. Not me.

Example #2 - My driveway in the Midwest Summertime
It was the middle of summer and very hot. Our little family decided that popsicles sounded really good. After all, who doesn't like a frozen treat on a hot summer day, right? So, the three of us open up our popsicles and when I went to lick mine...it stuck to my lips. Both of them. Have you ever seen "A Christmas Story"? Remember the scene where the kid sticks his tongue to the pole and gets stuck there? It happened in "Dumb and Dumber", too. That's the movie MW took me to on our first date. He finds great humor in these things. I provide plenty of enjoyment for him. Well, picture something similar to those movies except instead of winter, poles, and tongues - think summer, popsicle and lips. I kept trying to lick my lips to get them wet enough to release the popsicle, but that didn't work. So I tried to ask MW for help the best way I could. It was slightly difficult to speak properly seeing how my lips were glued to my popsicle and all. He couldn't help me, though. He was too busy. Laughing 'till he was bowed over holding his stomach. Little Britches went and got a cup of warm water for me. MW finally pulled himself together enough to pour warm water over my lips (still laughing). It took a while to free my lips. Most of the skin inside them decided to stay with the popsicle. I don't care much for popsicles anymore.

Now, back to my eye situation. First of all, MW didn't answer his phone. He always answers his phone. Remember, I'm not completely rational at this moment, because I bothered to call my hubby in the first place. Hmmmm...who should I call next? POISON CONTROL! Right answer. They knew exactly what to do. I must say I felt slightly stupid when Joanne, the nice lady from Poison Control who helped me, asked me how old I was. My reply? This time I was the one laughing. "Thirty-four. Old enough to not do this." She said I needed to go get into the shower, wash my hair to get any pepper residue out of it, and stand there with very warm water hitting my forehead. It would run down into my eyes and fix the problem. I had JUST gotten out of the shower. I was very clean yesterday. I said heck with fixing my hair a second time, though.

When MW got my message he called me and, once again, got a good laugh. He did tell me though that the reason that stuff is so funny to him is because when he (or most other people) get hurt it's usually because of something they've done - like the time he dropped a 400 pound board on his big toe. That was nasty. But when I get hurt it's like freak of nature things that only happen to me.

I never finished putting that pepper stuff on my tulips. I'm not even going to attempt it until my dear hubby brings me a respirator with eye guards. Something like that would only happen twice to me.

After that whole ordeal I was completely wiped out and needed a cup of java. I had forgotten about the incident that morning. Once the coffee started brewing I realized it wasn't a glitch with the machine that morning, though. Our $300.00 coffee maker had decided to try something new and start brewing coffee out it's back side. (We didn't pay $300.00 for the machine. No way. It actually didn't cost us anything. But...it's still a $300.00 coffee maker and there is no way we would go out and replace it.) It was a mess. I was sad. I reeeeeaaaaaly like that coffee maker.

But...the story ends well. My eye got better. I ruined my last pair of contacts. At least I'm not blind. I just need to make an appointment and go get some more vision enhancers. MW, while not being able to help me for laughing at my woes, DOES happen to be very handy. He fiddled with the coffee maker last night after work - got his tools out and everything. He got that bad daddy working! Yay!

I woke up to a nice steaming cup of coffee this morning. I knew it was coffee because I had my glasses on.

The end.
Pam

My Husband ROCKS! Fridays - Valentine's Day

For this week's installment of My Husband Rocks Fridays I am supposed to share about our first Valentine's Day together, what 'secrets' we do well, or what we are going to be doing for Valentine's Day this year.

Our first Valentine's Day together was a little nerve racking for me. We had just had our first date on New Year's Years Eve and he had not yet declared how absolutely, madly, crazy, totally, head-over-heels in love with me he was. I think that came about a week later! LOL! Anyhoo...MW was my first true boyfriend, so I was really 'green' and insecure about the whole What is appropriate at this point? and What do I get him? thing. So, I did what any mature and highly sophisticated woman in my position would do. I had a girl we worked with start snooping out what he was going to do for me! I didn't want to know what he was getting me, just an idea of how much he was spending on me so I would have a better idea of what to do for him. Bad idea. She was absolutely clueless about what anything costs. I hope she never aspired to be on The Price Is Right, 'cause she would have TOTALLY bombed! She told me he was probably spending about ten bucks on me. He ended up getting me roses and this adorable teddy bear. TEN BUCKS?! We worked at a super store, for heaven's sake! How did she ever come up with that figure? Since I had no idea what was appropriate to get a man for VD (That abbreviation doesn't quite look right, does it? Oh, well.) I ended up getting him a pair of leather gloves to go with his leather dress coat and bag of chocolates in the shape of big, juicy, hot lips! We also exchanged cards. I still remember so vividly what his said to me: "It's your heart I'm after..." Now, you didn't REALLY think I was going to give it all away, did you? That's personal! I did save the card, though. And the teddy bear, too. Actually, I still have filed away every card MW ever given me. I guess you could say I'm the sentimental type.

I'm going to skip the part where I mention what we do well. I think I've covered that plenty in the past couple of posts.

As far as what we're going to do this year for VD (that still makes me giggle!) - well, we're ditching Little Britches for a few hours of Mommy/Daddy time. It will be in the day time, so no romantic evening planned. I don't really care what we do, as long as we do it together. Of course, we'll grab a bite to eat somewhere. We have also talked about going to check out hot tubs. The one that came with the house when we bought it last year is yet to be up and running. So, we're either going to fix it or replace it. Maybe we can wear our swimsuits underneath our clothes and sneak in one and feed each other chocolate covered strawberries while the employees aren't looking. That could be exciting! Whatever we end up doing will be great because MW has this knack for making everything fun!

If you'd like to participate or just read about what other couples are doing tomorrow - click on the meme at the top of this post. That will take you to Katy Lin's site where you can read posts from other MHR Fridays participants at the left side of the screen.

Me and Mr. Wonderful - Installment #2

Yesterday I posted my first installment of the story of Me and Mr. Wonderful for the Valentine's Carnival happening over at We Are That Family. If you would like to participate or simply read a little bit about other's love stories, just click on the SWAK Valentine's Carnival button.

Now that you know how MW got his name, (if you don't - read yesterdays post) I thought I'd share a little bit more about what makes us tick as a couple. I previously mentioned that he is not perfect. Nor am I for that matter. But, and that's a BIG but, we're perfect for each other. I don't believe that there is such a thing as a perfect marriage. Since I am such a Sharpie, I developed this conclusion on the basis that I don't believe that there are perfect people. Having said that, though, I think marriage rocks! I'm sure that every marriage is different because every couple is different. So, keep in mind that the things I'm about to share are things that work for us.

Both of us came into this marriage with the full knowledge and recognition that this deal was 'till death do us part' - and neither of us was going to be doing time for homicide! Before we ever said our vows we declared that D-I-V-O-R-C-E would never, ever, ever be a part of our vocabulary. And it hasn't been. I think that one decision alone severely alters the way you deal with one another. It's like, "Hey we're stuck together so we better figure out a way to work this minor difference out." There really aren't many things that are as big of a problem as they may seem like in the heat of the moment.

We also remind ourselves whenever necessary that WE ARE ON THE SAME TEAM. There is nothing worth breaking up the team. Even (sometimes especially) the "little wonderfuls" in our lives. When you take 2 very different people and throw them together and say something like, "Now have a ball!" - there is bound to be some adjustments that need to be made. Learning to live with, consider and respect someone other than yourself doesn't automatically happen. That's where the whole team concept works for us. We realized that my areas of weakness were his areas of strength and vice versa. On a team, you don't want every member to have the same areas of expertise. It benefits everyone involved if each persons strengths are allowed to shine. So, we look at our differences as complimentary instead of competitive.

Also, every person has buttons that can be pushed. Oh, you know what yours are. And you know what your spouses are, too! We decided pretty quickly that it wasn't a good idea to push each others buttons. Although, sometimes it was very tempting in the beginning! You know, sometimes when you're ticked off and worked up you want him to be, too. Be honest, now!

We also worked at communicating with each other. I would think I was being really plain about what I was trying to convey, when in all actuality, I was still pretty much beating around the bush. I've had to learn to be much more direct than I even thought I should be. Most of the time my little signals just weren't getting through. I also remember another instance early on in our marriage. I would come home from work after a frustrating day and I would tell MW the maddening things that happened. He would then proceed to tell me what I should do or should have done about it. He was always trying to "fix it". That made me even more frustrated. One day I finally told him, "I don't NEED you to FIX my problem! I just NEED you to let me vent!" He tells me that's one of the best things I've ever told him. He's a man. Men are "fixers". We want "listeners". And then - if we want them to "fix" it, we'll let them know!

Every marriage goes through storms, or fires as others might say. We've had more than our fair share. But it's what we DO during those times that determines the outcome and joy we experience in our marriage. Do we let those times drive a wedge between us? Or do we let them forge us together into something so strong it cannot be broken?

To break it down - these are the few key principles that we have learned to adhere to. a) D-I-V-O-R-C-E is not an option, b) remembering and reminding each other when necessary that we are on the same team, c) don't push each other's buttons, d) learning to communicate with each other, e) And this one is really the most important one, keeping Christ at the center of our relationship. He is the one who has taught us how to navigate through this wonderful adventure I like to call "marriage" after all. It was all his big idea to begin with!

It's funny now because there is no effort involved in keeping our marriage healthy. It runs like a well oiled machine. We have actually gotten to the place where we DO read each other. We don't have to say a word. A look or a gesture will often say it all. We love each other. He thinks about my needs and desires. I think about his. It works beautifully that way because we both end up extremely fulfilled. And it's not a burden, either. It's a joy. It pleases me to please MW. It pleases MW to please me. We each get so much by giving. Even our struggles don't seem like struggles any more. We have weathered a lot of storms together through the past decade and a half and have become expert navigators. We both know that no matter what punches life throws our way, we've got somebody in our corner. That, my friend, is a beautiful gift.

The Slightly Abbreviated Story of Me and Mr. Wonderful!

I have a confession to make. My husband is THE BEST! Oh, you may think that you have the best husband in the world - but I know that I am married to Mr. Wonderful (who will now be lovingly referred to as MW from this point on)! In April we will have been married 14 years. I feel very proud to say that. Most marriages don't make it that long anymore. It's not work for us, though. It's relationship. We are very best friends and so much more. Now, don't get me wrong - he's not perfect. Neither am I. But...he's perfect for me. And after all of these years together we're more in love now than the day that we married.

Ours was a whirlwind romance that stirred the big turd up in the punch bowl, to put it mildly. We met one glorious October night at Meijer where we both worked. I worked in stationary. He worked in grocery. I was doing my shopping one night when it happened. Our eyes locked. He smiled up at me with those gorgeous green eyes and full, juicy lips. I swear I saw that certain glint that sparkles off of brilliantly white teeth, like in the movies. And I thought, "Ay chihuahua! Where have you been all my life?" or something really sophisticated like that. Actually, I remember making a mental note that I was DEFINITELY going to have to make it a point to meet this oh, so sexy, not your ordinary skanky grocery guy as he followed me to the next aisle. We formally met the next day and thereafter took every single break together for the next 3 months until he asked me out.

Our first date was on New Year's Eve. I still remember it so plainly. We were both in school at the time. He took me to The Olive Garden for dinner and then to a movie. We saw Dumb and Dumber. I thought that was a bold move since he really didn't know my sense of humor, yet. We laughed until both my stomach and my jaws ached. It's still one of his favorite movies. After watching it 248 times now - it doesn't quite affect me quite so much as it did that first 100 times. Anyhoo...after the movie the date didn't truly end. We spent the rest of the night together...at work. GET YOUR MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER! We worked third shift. At the stroke of midnight on January 1, 1995 we managed sneak away from our respective departments long enough to say Happy New Year. He brought me a single red rose that night, and every night thereafter for quite some time.

After that we were inseparable. Our first kiss was on our third date. When I went home it took three hours for the butterflies in my stomach to fall asleep. I'm not joking. Talk about feeling like a giddy school girl!

Three months later we eloped. That's when the punch bowl was stirred. That didn't exactly make my parents very happy (I can't say that I blame them.) or a whole slew of other people for that matter. But...you can't change the past and I would still marry him all over again. I was absolutely, madly, crazy in love with MW. And I still am.

He is smart, sensitive, funny, romantic...The list could go on and on. He still brings me flowers for no reason at all. I often find little love notes tucked into my wallet. He calls me every day from work just to tell me he loves me. He ALWAYS opens my doors and has taught our son to do the same. He helps around the house.

Saturday morning when it was just the two of us in the early morning hours before the little guy woke up I told him I had a certain love song on my mind. He told me to put it in the CD player. Then he asked me to dance. And dance we did - breast to breast, just taking in each others scent in the living room at dawn, oblivious to the world around us. Aaah.

Fast forward to Saturday afternoon. I mentioned to MW that I felt like I was starting to look old. You know, getting those little lines around the eyes that never used to be there? I said, "Can you tell?" And the rest of the conversation went something like this:
MW. "Honestly?"
Me. "Yes."
MW. "Honestly. You don't look any different to me today than the day that I married you."
Me. "Aw. You're so sweet."
MW. "I'm being serious. To me, I see you just like you were when I married you. I love you."
Me. "I love you, too. I'm so glad you're my husband. There's nobody I'd rather grow old with."
MW. "Good. 'Cause you're stuck with me!"
And I could see the sincerity of his words in his eyes.

And finally, jump to last night. First, you must know that I have been EXTREMELY hormonal for the past few days. It hasn't been this bad since I was pregnant almost nine years ago. And, no, I'm not pregnant, if you're wondering - just seriously PMSing. I cried all day yesterday. After dinner I was literally sobbing. MW wants to know what's wrong, if he did something. "No. (sniff) You didn't do (sniff) anything. It's just my (sniff, sniff) hormones. There's nothing wrong (sniff, sniff, sniff) but I can't quit crying. (WAAAAAA!) I think I'm going to hang out in the bedroom for a while." He said, "Come on, I'll go with you." Then he took me to the bedroom and had me lay with my head on his chest while we watched a comedy and I had my cry out. Now, I told you he was wonderful, didn't I? He did, however, comment that if I have to end up going back on the pill to even out my hormones after he had a vasectomy - that was really gonna suck! LOL!

So, this Valentine's Day me and MW will have our date. I sooo look forward to our dates. Sometimes it's necessary to take off the Momma and the Poppa hats and just be a 'couple' again for a a few hours. But, this won't be the day that I'll be looking for flowers or jewelry. We choose to not to buy flowers when the prices are super inflated. If that happens to be your cup of tea, then, "Cheers!" But it will be a day that we remember just how blessed we are to be in each other's lives. And it will be a day that's special. Because, when you're married to MW, every day is special!

To all you other lovely ladies and your Mr. Wonderfuls out there in bloggy land - may every day be Valentine's Day!

Having Fun Together

Well, I've haven't been consistent with this at all because I can't figure out how to get the meme button to work right. But, because I want to participate - I'm going to anyway. If you would like to be a part of My Husband Rocks Fridays (I'm also a day late - but life happens!) you can click on The Great Adventure in my left hand side bar's blog roll. Katy Lin's site will fill you in on all the details and you can also see how so many other husbands rock as well.

This week we are supposed to tell some of the things we do for fun together.

First of all I must say that my husband is a riot. We don't have to DO anything to have fun together. An example of this would be this morning after breakfast I was washing up the dishes and Chris and Isaac were watching some TV show about junk yards and demolition derbies (guy stuff). One of the guys said something about a broken axle and Isaac said, "What did he just say?" From the kitchen I remarked, "Isaac must be the swear word police today." So Chris explains that an axle is part of car then goes into this whole conversation with himself. "Axel? What did you just call me? I'm not an axle. I'm a piston!" I promise - it was hilarious if you'd have been here. I was belly laughing! Anyway, we have a blast together no matter what we're doing.

We used to go camping and take picnics by the water together. A lot of times we'd go wading in the creek. We don't do as much of that stuff as we used to for a number of reasons; a) We lived in FL for so many years. Wading in the water with things that can kill you just wasn't for us. Neither was fighting off mosquitoes so big they could carry you away. b) We also had a child. That limited our freedom for quite some time. We are beginning to be able to do more of those things again. But we also like to get out by ourselves and drive in the country. One of my most favorite memories was from this past fall when we did that on a motorcycle. Something about feeling my chest against his back with the wind in our faces was absolutely wonderful. Sometimes we also just like to lay next to each other and talk and dream.

The thing that we have discovered through the years is that everything is special and fun as long as we're together.

Another Spider Story

Once upon a time my husband, Chris, and I moved to central Florida to be youth pastors. One of our youth had been in a terrible jet ski incident which left him immobile and in traction for quite some time. He was sent home from the hospital with a hospital bed and traction contraption (say that 10 times). When we went to his house to visit him we had to wait in the kitchen for a few minutes before we could go in and see him.

We hadn't been in Florida for very long at this point and was admiring the wall decorations and contemplating how people decorate so differently in the Sunshine State than they do in the north. It was very common where we came from to have Home Interior pictures hung with sconces and plaques of birds or butterflies. Chris was intrigued by the fact that Crackers also hang plaques of spiders with their pictures, too. I say this because, right in the middle of the pictures was hanging a spider plaque at least the size of your fist. Two legs facing the head. Two legs facing the rear. So life like. Interesting. So interesting that Chris decides to reach out and touch it...

It wasn't a plaque. It was a real, live, mutant, monster of a spider! What the heck do they feed these things down here?! It's so big you could ride it! They don't grow spiders that big in the Midwest. These were all thoughts that instantaneously ran through our skull caps.

As Spidey scurries on up the wall 'cause he don't really like bein' manhandled - my big, strappin', 6'1", muscular, hunk of husband turns into a 5 year old little girl. He's screaming and jumping around these people's kitchen while jerking not too unlike an epileptic fit. It was really a moment to make a woman proud. Oh, yeah, that's my husband. I was just glad I wasn't the Yankee who decided to pet the puppy. OK, it wasn't a puppy. It was a spider, but puppy sounded better. Don't ya think?

Anyway. That was one more of our many adventures with creepy, crawly things in the good old Sunshine State. They grow critters down there that are larger than most household pets in Hoosier Land. Let's just say that was a lesson for us both that was well learned.

Want to read the first spider story?

My Husband Rocks - Furniture!

I found out about this "My Husband Rocks" deal over at Journey to a Gracious Woman and just had to get in on it. My hubby always Rocks, but sometimes he just flat blows me away. Monday night on his way home from work he called to tell me he was bringing me a present. YAY! I LOVE PRESENTS! He shows up with a solid cherry wood bedroom set! The bed has both a head board and foot board. Plus there is a chest of drawers and a dresser with the big mirror that goes on top. Let me just say it one more time. My husband rocks!