28 Years of Bliss

Today Hubs and I celebrate 28 years of wedded bliss. I say that tongue-in-cheek because, while it has been 28 years, it hasn’t all been blissful. But as I reflect on why our marriage works, I can’t help but think it’s because we both understand we can’t make the other happy unless we, ourselves, are happy.

Take today, for example. We had our morning cup of coffee (he DOES make a killer coffee), sang Happy Anniversary to each other (okay, I sang), and headed out to do what makes us happy on a Saturday. Hubs loves to fly RC airplanes, so he spent most of the day at the RC park. I love riding my bike and haven’t been on it in a while. My son offered to go on a ride with me, so we headed off for a three miles shy of ten mile bike ride (sounds so much better than seven). Later, I ran my errands and we met back at the house.Dinner was at one of my favorite places, home. Both sets of kids celebrated with us. We enjoyed our fine dining outside as the weather is absolutely perfect right now.

This is what makes us tick. Family.

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Smart Bed

It’s a school holiday and I’m stuck in bed. I’m not the “I’m so sick, I can’t get out of bed” kind of stuck. I’m the “I have a really long list of commitments today” kind of stuck. I’m thinking my bed knows me well enough that it’s developed the ability to sense when I need a few minutes. It knows me well enough to predict that if I hit the floor now, I’ll end up in a puddle of frustrated tears by noon. It wants me to cull my list and only do the things deemed really important.

*Breakfast with grandbaby and daughter

*Eat lunch with almost 27-year-old son and his wife

*Tea with mom

*Crawfish boil with friendster*

*HEB (grocery store for you non-Texans) for Easter lunch supplies

*Laundry (only because if I don’t do it today, it will smother us in our sleep tonight-there’s THAT much)

This list looks way shorter than it did in my head. No tears today! Thanks, Bed, for keeping me hostage.

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*Friendster-My own word to describe my best friends who are more than best friends – they are my soul sisters – my friendsters.

Those Aggies

I’m watching basketball. I don’t really like basketball. But, I’m watching because Texas A&M is playing. I’m not really watching because they’re playing. They’ve played many times before-obviously. I’m watching because they are a testament to a growth-mindset.

Sunday night my son (Aggie alum) and husband gave up on the game when they were many points behind. Just before bed, I was looking for a recipe on Facebook and saw a post about overtime. I don’t know much about basketball, but I do know overtime means they caught up. Husband turned the game back on and it wasn’t  long before the Ags came through.

Guys, they did not give up. They were pretty far behind, but they didn’t let the score dictate their caliber of play. They persevered and they won. Can you imagine the amount of positive self-talk that was happening on that court? Anyway, I’m watching and hoping for another win.

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The Day I Scarred Seventh Graders

It’s Spring in Texas, y’all. That means sunny skies, temps in the 80’s and dresses! I love dresses. They’re easy to wear and cause few pantyline worries. Today I wore a super cute, swingy dress I bought several weeks ago. I love this dress because it’s made of t-shirt material and super comfortable, but somehow looks professional – it’s the PERFECT dress. Unless it’s windy.

Wind is common on the coast, but I am 60 miles from the coast. Typically, it’s not windy in the suburbs and it wasn’t windy when I left for school this morning. It wasn’t windy when I walked into the building and it wasn’t windy at 8:00 a.m. when I walked from my “educational cottage” into the building. However (full stop for dramatic effect). When I came back out, in a hurry as usual, it was super windy and it was a passing period. That means I was headed out the doors while 48 seventh graders were headed in. We crossed paths in the middle of the paved area and that’s when the wind pick up. And by picked up, I mean it started to gust and it picked up my dress. I panicked. My hands immediately swatted down the wayward material in the front and the back of my body. The water in the glass I was holding was dripping from the back bottom of my dress and my calendar and the various papers, notes, and stickies it holds were strewn across the pavement. I am fairly certain that this spectacle did not go unnoticed. I’m just hoping I don’t end up on a meme.

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Inedible Snacks

I’m on a diet. I have to wear a bathing suit in public in three weeks. I’m NOT:

  • Changing the way I eatapple
  • Embracing a healthier lifestyle
  • Eating clean
  • Eating to nourish my body and not to satisfy my cravings

Instead, I’m on a full out smoothie-for-breakfast-and-lunch-with-snacks-that-provide-a-minimum-of-calories diet. Me and the belly bulge are at an all out war. This brings me to the photo on the left. Snacks.

Yesterday I was shopping at Trader Joe’s for my smoothie ingredients and came across a beautiful bag of Pink Lady apples. They were so tiny, delicate, and cheap that I couldn’t pass them up.

Flash Forward: After whipping up my protein-packed spinach smoothie this morning, I threw an apple in my bag and headed out the door. I got a bit peckish around 10:00 a.m. so I fished out the apple from my bag and eagerly bit into it. I certainly didn’t expect to meet resistance from the flesh of something so dainty, so imagine my surprise when I could barely take a bite from the apple. It was so hard it could have been substituted for a pool cue ball. I was so disappointed that I put it aside for a while.

Later I came back to it. I was hoping that in my absence the apple would magically become more appealing and edible. Wrong. It was just as hard, but I was hungry. The morning smoothie had reached its useful life and it was too early for the lunch smoothie. I had to do battle with the apple. I’m hoping that I burned a few extra calories as a reward.

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Gas

This isn’t the blog I intended for today. Today’s blog was supposed to be about my smoothie diet and accompanying snack but I didn’t realize when I wrote it on my computer it wouldn’t automatically show up on my IPad. So, sweet reader, you will have to wait for tomorrow to read that masterpiece.

On my way to pick up my grandbaby this afternoon, the flat tire light came on in my car. I dutifully pulled over and walked around the car checking the tires. All four seemed to look round and in tact. I hopped back in, called hubs to report the flat tire false alarm and sped off. I didn’t think about it again until husband got home from work and asked for my keys. I reminded him about the flat tire indicator and continued to make dinner. I watched him measure the air in the tires and add air in the two front ones. Then I looked away-probably to pour a glass of wine for myself. I didn’t realize he had driven off until dinner was finished and he didn’t come running.

When he returned he put my keys back where he found them and dished himself some delicious quinoa. As I was putting the dishes away my car shimmered under the garage light and I realized where my sweet man had gone. My car was clean and full of gas! This, friends, is love.

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Sundays

I love Sunday nights. My kids come over for family dinner and games, tv, or movie night. We eat together and relax as we prepare for the week about to unfold. That’s another reason I love Sunday nights.  They are full of promises for the upcoming week. A whole new week of opportunity stretches out with no regrets. The calendar is clean, no scratched out appointments, no angry red reminders-just pure white blocks of open time.

Happy New Week, friends!

 

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Confessions of a Slicer

I have a confession. I’m a book sniffer. I love the way books smell. Old books, new books, paperbacks that have been passed around, hardbacks that have spent lonely years on a shelf; they all have a unique aroma that gives me such comfort.

Funny story about what got me thinking about my proclivity for book smelling. My house is usually full of people-my grown kids, my grandbaby, my best friends, their kids-my people-my tribe. I love having them here. It brings tears to my eyes when I think about it, really. But sometimes I need a few minutes alone. That’s when I go to the bathroom. No one follows me there and it gives me a few minutes of solitude to center myself and reflect on my blessings. It also gives me a few minutes to scroll through Instagram (no eye rolling, we all have our vices). I love Book Riot and the pictures they post on Instagram. This afternoon there was a really beautiful picture of someone’s bookshelves and, like usual, I scrolled through the comments. That’s where I saw the Kindle comment. Someone commented that all the books in the photo could be stored on a Kindle. Puuuuleeze. Of course they could be stored digitally. But book people, those of us who love the intimacy of actual pages, know that Kindle books don’t smell the same and sniffing Kindle books only leaves pesky greasy spots on the screen. I get that digital books are convenient-I have a TON of them, but I still can’t turn from a traditional book.

In honor of Day 19 of Slicing, go sniff a book my friends. Think about those who turned the pages before you and those who will turn the pages after you.

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Auditory Superpowers

Today’s post is inspired by this one from elsie tries writing. Soundtrack of a place:

I found a few quiet minutes on the back porch of my in-laws house today. They live on a small lake or large pond-I’m not sure  of the appropriate term, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I intentionally sat down to listen. The soundtrack in my head (totally a riff on the “story in my head” because I’m a Brene Brown devotee) told me I needed to be working on planning for SSI, but I ignored it. Instead I listened to what was going on right in front of me.

The melody of the outdoors was carried by the songs of the sparrows, wrens, cardinals, and nuthatches; each played a different note. The percussion was taken care of by a pair of red-headed woodpeckers intent on getting the goods from an old oak tree. The crickets chimed in, but their solos were drowned out by the rumble of the traffic from a nearby road. Even a small town has its share of traffic noise in the late afternoon.

Listening harder, I heard a plane flying up high overhead, the splashing of the water on the pier and the sounds of my husband casting his fishing line. I was transfixed as I just sat still and listened. I felt like I had developed some sort of auditory superpowers which came in useful when I heard someone inside the house rustling the paper bag full of fried pies. I must admit, after my bout of listening, I felt refreshed-probably the lemon fried pie helped, too, but let’s go with the listening.

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Car Karaoke

My husband’s parents live about five hours away and we don’t get to see the very often. He took off today and tomorrow so we could make a short trip before he gets really busy at work. He’s not a fan of long car rides which is one of the reasons we don’t go see them very often. I, on the other hand, LOVE long car rides. My drive to work is takes about seven minutes. I usually listen to a book on the Audible app because there are no commercials and it’s calming to me. But on long car rides, the musical genius in me is unleashed. The car turns into an enclosed karaoke club-minus the alcoholic beverages primarily because it’s illegal.

The invention of the satellite radio has been life changing for me. I am no longer bound by the local radio channels. I now have hundreds of options before me and I take advantage of all of them. I know the words to so so so many songs and I know some of the words to even more songs. My theory on car karaoke is that if you sing louder than the music coming out of the speakers, no one will know if you’re free-styling the lyrics.

Today’s ride was awesome-as we zoomed past patches of bright blue bluebonnets, I belted out Believe (I know about half the words because Cher sometimes mumbles). As we puttered behind a truck hauling logs, I did one of my best renditions of Hotel California. Then Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers came on with that timeless duet-Islands in the Stream. I begged hubs to take on the Kenny part of the song. He did-for the first stanza but gave up. I had to sing both parts. I asked him on our loo stop why he quit. He said he didn’t know the words. I pointed out that I don’t always know all the words to the songs I sing at the top of my lungs. His side-eye response? “I know…”

No worries, my virtual friends, I’ve been getting side-eye responses for over 25 years-that won’t stop me from enjoying a little more free -style car karaoke on our way home Saturday!

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