A Wedding Story

Yesterday, our friend Yabu regaled us with a bachelor party story that brings tears to the eyes. I’m still laughing about it. One thing that made me laugh was the groomsmen’s use of Ray-Bans™.

I also have a story about Ray-Bans™.

When Hubby and I were deciding on groomsmen and bridesmaids gifts, we went our separate ways. That meant I would have no say in the guys’ gifts, and he would have no say in the gals’. Anyway, he decided to gift the groomsmen pewter flasks. Really nice ones that they filled with their spirit of choice and tucked into their tuxedo pockets. They stood outside the church and took sips in preparation for the wedding. This is all on video, by the way.

What I didn’t know was what Hubby and his Band of Marry Men™ were planning after that.

We get to the church (on time), and the music begins, and the flower girls go out, followed by the junior bridesmaids, and then the official bridesmaids. And then it’s my turn. I walk down the aisle on my father’s arm, the entire congregation turning to look at me (because apparently that’s what is done, right?). Halfway up the aisle I look over to Hubby, and miss a step, faltering against my dad.

They are all wearing sunglasses!!

I smiled stonily asked my dad what I should do.

He told me that was my problem.

My dad is every man’s hero.

And y’all know what the worst part is? No one but my dad, the photographer and I saw it!!! To make matters worse, my mom refused to purchase the photo of that, so I have no way of showing the kidlets what their father did to their mother on her wedding day. He still smirks about that, and relishes getting to make me freak out on our wedding.

But that’s ok. I have a lifetime in which to get even 😉

How Lucky Can One Be?

A couple of days ago, Hubby and I were talking about the happenings over there. The MFO is literally in the middle of nowhere, and getting entertainment for the troop is pretty rare. But this weekend they were going to be getting a visit from the Washington Redskins Cheerleaders.

Now, American football may not be appreciated by most of the countries represented at the MFO, but their cheerleaders sure are.

Anyway, we were talking about it, and Hubby asked me to look up a certain cheerleader that he really, really wanted to meet. I was smiling at that, thinking she sure must be attractive or maybe was originally from his neck of the woods, but no. That wasn’t the reason. This is the cheerleader :

Her name is Talmesha, and it is her fourth year as a Redskins Cheerleader. Most men would love to meet her just because of that, but Hubby isn’t most men. This is why he wanted to meet her:

[I’m] currently a graduate student at Johns Hopkins Medical School, pursuing a Ph.D. in Cellular and Molecular Medicine.  The focus of my research is breast cancer.  I graduated Phi Beta Kappa from the University of Maryland Baltimore County (UMBC) with a B.S. in Chemical Engineering and a B.S. in Mathematics.

Beauty and brains!! I was hoping he would get to meet her and have a few minutes to talk with her, but sometimes in cases like this things go too fast and there isn’t enough time to converse with everyone. So imagine my surprise to get this text from him:

Hubby: OMG. I am here treating one of the cheerleaders. She was bitten by a dog three days ago*.

Me: GET A PIC WITH HER!!!

Hubby: She left already. AND it [was] the one I wanted to talk to!

So he got to talk to her, and had a great time! Sometimes Fate decides not to twist our threads into knots, eh?

*Since she is on tour throughout the Middle East, it was difficult to get treated for a while.

I Stumbled into Twin Peaks, and Didn’t Even Get Cherry Pie

As some of y’all may know, I took the kidlets on a roadtrip to the town of Comfort, Texas. Comfort is a hidden gem in the west of Hill Country. It is famous for its architecture, as well as being the site of the only Union monument in Confederate territory. Treue der Union Monument is dedicated to the German abolitionists who chose to flee rather than be conscripted into the Confederate Army. This was a great opportunity to teach kids a bit about Texas and Civil War history, as well as 19th century architecture, while spending quality time together.

The drive was uneventful, with a couple of minor traffic jams, but we made pretty good time, arriving there around noon. The first thing we notice is the lack of signs letting us know where the historical district resides. No matter, I just figure we drive around and eventually hit it, by counting the numbered streets. Sure enough, we stumble upon the lovely High Street area. I park further down on 6th Street, since the parking is already full, and we proceed to walk towards High Street. As soon as we start to cross, we see the Comfort Bank.

Beautiful, isn’t it? Stonework and brickwork dating back to the mid 1800’s. And the majority of the street has similar architecture, including the old Saloon and the owner’s abode. But then things started getting weird.

A Fine Romance

We are all raised to believe that a romance is when a guy posing as a prince comes to rescue a girl posing as a damsel in distress. She weeps in helplessness, he comes in and finds a way to rescue her from whatever malaise she suffers, and they ride off into the sunset, happily ever after.

What horsepuckey!!

Yes, I said it. HORSEPUCKEY!!!

Don’t get me wrong. I read trashy bodice-ripper novels all the time. They make excellent bathtub reading material, and help to keep me sane by giving me some much needed brain candy. But I know Real Life™ doesn’t work that way. A true romance has pitfalls, and anger, and sadness, and joy, and laughter, and misunderstandings, and things that make you go “Hmm….”. Real romance may have flowers and candy sometimes, but more often than not, it has oil changes and beer. Sometimes it has jewelry, but more than likely it will have an installed dishwasher.

True romance is about knowing each other, and still wanting to be with each other, warts and all 🙂

Unlucky Strikes

The best laid plans of mice and moms often fail.

Last night was the Homecoming game for Eldest and Son’s high school. We were getting ready to go, but the kitchen still had to be cleaned up. Eldest is in charge of washing the dishes, and as she was washing a glass, it slipped and broke, while she tried to catch it. The result?

My baby had a deep gash that required stitches, the first time in her young life. Four heart-wrenching stitches to her mom. But she took it all like a trooper, and even told the doctor that she would be able to get her own stitches out, because she has had experience doing it. Hubby has sure taught the kids the basics on first aid.

We missed Homecoming game, but there’s always Homecoming dance tonight!

And no, she won’t be washing dishes for a while!!

UPDATE!

Looks like The Real Dave needs a bandaid 😉

Cheap Therapy

A friend of mine was telling me a few weeks ago about her time in therapy. Now, my idea of “therapy” is not the same as hers. She had explained that she had attended therapy with a psychiatrist three times a week for a few years. At first I felt awful, not knowing what to say to her, thinking the trauma in her life must have been catastrophic. When I asked her what had happened, as gently as I could, she told me she went to a therapist in order to learn to relax.

Now, I will say that therapists do tend to help people with problems, but going to one for three times a week for years to learn to relax??

When doing this is cheaper and more satisfying??

Or this??

Or even this??

Consider this your free relaxation therapy.

Following sessions will cost extra, if needed 🙂

Lessons Learned

I’m not the best housewife, or cook, or parent. As most of us do, I learn as I go, and in 17 and a half years of marriage and parenthood, I have learned a few things:

1. There is a difference between baking powder and baking soda. This can mean the difference between muffins, and paperweights.
2. Never put dishwashing liquid in a dishwasher. Unless you also need to shampoo the carpet in the living room.
3. Bedroom doors are not made of solid wood. Any holes made by errant feet can be covered with a pretty kickplate.
4. The only good thing about Berber carpeting is its ability to keep dogs entertained as it unravels.
5. Spouses should never have similar looking razors. It can mean the difference between “baby smooth”, and “Leatherface”.
6. Buttermilk is not made by adding butter to milk.
7. Checking pockets prior to washing will not only save you from having to wipe down lipgloss in the dryer with cleaner, but can also net you a nice $20 tip.
8. Water resistant does not mean waterproof, especially when it comes to watches, and mp3 players holding hours of music that you paid for.
9. A child using a rake to clean up leaves outside is a Good Thing™. The same child using a rake to clean a room inside is not.
10. Ceiling fans are NOT propellers. Nor are they for swinging toys like superheroes.

I’m sure y’all have your own list. Mine seems to be unending 😉

Spoonful of Sugar

I hate days like these.

It’s a beautiful morning, nice and cool outside. It is begging me to go out for a walk and enjoy the musical stylings of mockingbirds and sparrows, but no….. I have to be home sick with the beginnings of a nasty cold. This one I got from Hubby as a loving departing gift, which he got from Eldest as a loving welcoming gift. Yay, me.

Courtesy of Gary Larson

I shall make a batch of The Pioneer Woman’s Chicken and Rice soup, which will make me feel tons better. I tend to not take a lot of medication, since I have an adverse reaction to most meds. Nothing major, just most tend to totally make me loopy or put me out like a light. Nyquil is NOT my best friend. I get a better result from drinking a shot of bourbon before bed, without the grogginess in the morning. At least I wasn’t sick while Hubby was on leave!

If y’all have any recommendations for a way to feel or get better, let me know. I’m on my second box of tissues!!

Being Happy

One of my favorite movies is Pollyanna, the story of a girl who always found a reason to be glad. I have always been of the opinion that happiness is all around: one just needs to find the right “fit”. Sometimes I am a grump, I admit, and don’t feel like looking for happiness in anything. Wallowing in misery is something I can do well, too. But it is so time consuming, and in the end no one, and I mean NO ONE is willing to put up with my doldrums, so what’s the use, right?? And that’s where Pollyanna comes in. It does take effort, but I do manage to find something that makes me happy at least once a day. I’m not happy all day, mind you, but I am happy every day.

Always, always, always look for a reason to be glad. I promise, the search is always worth it 🙂

A Yearly Grind

A few months ago I received a rather nice postcard from the *ahem* Breast Clinic Women’s Imaging Center here, letting me know it was time for my mammogram. Being a member of the military, I had to book my appointment well in advance. Eleven weeks, to be exact.

Sigh….

Anyway, on the reminder card for the visit there were several precautions you must observe when going in for your squishathon.

No perfumes.

No body lotions.

No powder.

So far this is fine with me. Even though I *heart* perfume, I generally do not wear it. And with two dogs that enjoy licking every surface around here, I usually pass on the lotion until bedtime. Then came the most reprehensible command known to woman:

NO DEODORANT OR ANTI-PERSPIRANT OF ANY KIND.

The thermostat that day read 102*. It read 107* in the van. It could be 5000* for all I cared. I was going to be driving 30 minutes to the hospital, parking in the lot closest to Egypt, and walking for eons in infernal temperatures. Great…. I was going into the hospital where people know me and greet me all funkified. Thankfully, the clinic was relatively close to the front of the Outpatient area. I was able to go in without offending anyone.

I check in at the front desk, and go to put on the specially made gown. You know the one….it has three armholes: one arm, then the other, and the final hole goes on the original arm. I’m not explaining it very well, but women know what I’m talking about. In any case, my derriere was covered, and I went to sit to await my turn in a rather empty area. Which made me wonder why I had to book this appointment so far in advance. Soon enough, my name was called, and I followed a very nice tech into the exam room. She turns to get the dreaded BB tape.

I cringe.

Owie...

Well, this was new. The last time I was assaulted with medical tape, the kind designed to hold I.V. needles in your veins. That was painful to remove, and left residue that was difficult to wash off. She proceeds to place the BBs where they need to go, and is now ready to take the images.

The first views were not so bad. The plate comes straight down and squishes you vertically, first the left, then the right. But then comes the side squishers. And in order to get the best view, the tech has to maneuver your girlfriend into position, by pushing and squeezing her into the area for the overhead plate to press like a olive. Meanwhile, she is telling you to lean back away from the plates, without moving your girlfriend. Soon enough, the imaging is over, and I am free to go. She kindly shows me out, and I proceed to go to the changing room to get my deodorant out of my purse and bathe in apply it. I look at the BB band-aids in apprehension. The tech had said these were easier to remove than the tape they had used previously. I had my reservations. But like everyone says, rip it off like a band-aid.

YEOW!!!!!!!!

The tech lied.

I shut my eyes against the tears, and after getting dressed, I stop at the front desk to inquire about the results. They tell me I should have them in three to seven days, which I thought was a remarkable turn around. That was June 23rd.

I got them yesterday, July 26th.

The tech lied.

I really need to quit being such a Pollyanna 😉