K is Keys to a Good Marriage

My parents have been married for 52 and 1/2 years, so I'm pretty sure that counts as being committed for the long haul.  This next question that my father  answered in his legacy book  is a noble set of points to remember for anyone who wants to stay happily married.


Record your ideas here for what it takes for a husband and wife to maintain a healthy marriage.

1.  Maintain a good sense of humor.
2.  Consider first the needs of the other.  In so doing yours are most apt to be met.
3   Be patient.  Time cures a lot of ills.
4.  Maintain sexual fidelity.
5.  Live within your financial means.
6.  Give each other time for non-mutual interests.  Guys need time for guy things and ladies need time for lady things.

22 Words

Inspired by a blog called 22 Words, by Abraham Piper....



Last minute invitation to a marriage seminar this weekend fills me with hope, gratitude, and giddy excitement even after our silver anniversary.

Simple Woman's Daybook 1.27.12

Needing inspiration today, I'm using a favorite slice-of-life meme from a blog called The Simple Woman's Daybook.

Outside my window...
It's rainy and grey, or is that grainy and rey? My head is as foggy as the mist that hovers over the earth this morning.

I am thinking...
about all the things I want to improve-- internally, externally, maternally, you name it. If it's got a "nally" at the end of it, I probably want to change it.

I am thankful for...
the commitment that my husband and I have to each other, and for God's sustaining grace in our marriage. I am proud of my man, and feel secure in his love, even when the hot water heater of life isn't working. By that I mean, on some days the marriage feels like a cold shower on a winter morning--you're tempted to jump out before the job is done. But on most days, marriage is like a warm bath--soothing and healing to the mind, body, and soul. Either way, you're naked and need a good cleansing to be the best person you can be for another person.

From the kitchen...

the pantry screams, "Reorganize me!"

I am wearing...

a pink Myrtle Beach hoodie and burgundy sweatpants. Pink is not my color at all, and I actually had to buy a pink accessory to wear to my future DIL's bridal shower. The invitation said, "Wear pink, black, or a combination of both." So I found a hot pink boa at a thrift shop for $3.99 and paired it with black and white I had. Pink is really not my color, but a warm pink hoodie on a cold January day is better than any alternative available this morning.

I am creating...

perhaps a small quilt in the near future. My husband thought of me yesterday when he heard about a quilting club that makes quilts for needy babies. At least I think that's what he said; I was half asleep, but smiled at his thoughtfulness. I told him I've only made three quilts in my life and that I'd feel nervous joining a quilting club with my elementary skills. But making quilts for needy babies is certainly motivational.

I am going...
to yank the air freshener out of the wall plug. Too much of a good thing is giving me a headache!

I am reading...

The Water Giver, by Joan Ryan

Best book I've read in a long time, it's the true story written by a mother whose 16-year-old special-needs son suffered a traumatic brain injury while riding a skateboard without a helmet. Up until the accident, she had never really felt like a nurturing mom, but one who was preoccupied with "fixing" her child by shuttling him from one therapist to another, reading one book after another to try to change him into a "normal" son, rather than just being the mother he needed. It took nearly losing him for her to accept and love him the way he was.

The book is written by a journalist, so I appreciate the factual medical lingo she includes, as well as her emotional tone. A couple of times she drops the "f" bomb, so I wouldn't give it a 5-star rating for language.


I am hoping...

for a good blizzard soon.

I am hearing...

the whirring of the mini-heater's fan blowing inside and the cling-clang of the wind chimes on the deck, and the pitter-patter of not-so-little dog feet hopping around the tennis ball that Reilly Pup is entertaining himself with.

Around the house...

I see nothing but projects and repairs calling out to me and Mr. Fix-it. A kitchen makeover, a master bathroom makeover, a broken table leg, drawers in disarray, the Youngest's bedroom to be converted to a Baltimore Ravens nest. The second son moved lickety-split into the vacated older brother's room when he moved out, and it is already painted, thanks to him and his girlfriend. Best part: it cost nothing. He was content to use a calm, handsome (like him) blue paint we already had, and I can't for the life of me recall where we used it. That blue exists nowhere in the house. Stranger things have happened.


















I asked Ambrey to stand there like a model doing a paint product photo shoot. Isn't she cute?
























One of my favorite things...

is finding a handwritten note in my mailbox, either at home or at school. Yesterday I got a thank-you note at school from parents who pick a different teacher each week to pray for. They go a step further and write a note, which the secretary delivers to our boxes. I must've read that thing three times in one hour. Such encouragement on a day I was pondering bad news and big, unexpected expenses.

A few plans for the rest of the week...

The rest of the week? Since today is Friday, that's a short list for a change. Tonight I am going out for Chinese with my former co-teacher and friend, just to catch up on life. She's an excellent listener and an engaging talker. A good conversationalist. The funniest part is predictable when it comes time for us to pay for our meal. I take the check, try to figure who owes what, hand it to her for verification, and then she quotes a line from a movie: "It was my understanding there would be no math."

Tomorrow is a "free Saturday," which means there are no outside obligations on the calendar. But make no mistake, there is no such thing as a free lunch or a free Saturday. Hubby will find plenty of work for us all to do around here.

A picture thought I am sharing...
After the bridal shower, we went for Dee's dress fitting. My daughter started looking around and called me over to check this one out. She called it her dream dress. Well, she couldn't keep a straight face and she was snorting, so I knew it was gonna be ugly. Well, not ugly, just outdated and straight-laced, no pun intended. "Modest is hottest," she said, doubling over laughing, and then snapped a picture of me (in aforementioned pink boa) giving the dress the "oh yeah, baby, what a beaut" look.

Hodgepodge: "Five and Twenty" Focus

Here it is, the last Hodgepodge of 2011. This is my most favorite meme to participate in, and as long as Joyce continues to ask questions, I plan to continue answering them. Hope you enjoy your stay here for the duration of this little "interview" between virtual friends.


1. Share something you loved about your Christmas Day.

Can I share two somethings? Sure, it's my blog. :)

One: having all four of our children here, knowing it'd be the last Christmas morning with our oldest son as a single man.

Two: The worship service at church. Honestly, I was not wanting to go as of the day before because I went to a Christmas Eve service at my sister's church. I had actually grumbled about the fact that my hubby and a couple older kids wanted to attend a service at our church on Christmas morning. I had thought what an inconvenience to have to get dressed, have breakfast, do gifts in a rush or postpone them, and make it to church by 10 a.m. My selfish preference was to sleep in, stay in PJ's a long time, open gifts, and then eat at a leisurely pace.

But as it turned out, five of the six of us (my oldest son doesn't attend our church and decided to sleep in) went to service which included a cute skit, a choir, a short message, and several carols. There was great joy in my heart and in that small congregation on Christmas morning. It was quite the change from how we usually look on the morning of December Five and Twenty. Fum, fum, fum.

We waited until after church to open gifts, and I applaud everyone's self-control. (Pretend you can see me clapping.)

2. You get to put five items in a time capsule to be opened in 100 years,
what items would you choose and why?

I'm glad you gave us a day's headstart to think about this great question ,Joyce. Here's what I've come up with.
1. A bible--because in 100 years they might be really scarce, and everyone needs the message contained in God's Word.
2. A photo of my family--with a note saying, "These people weren't famous, but they were the most precious people I knew. They influenced me more than any other humans on earth and I loved them with all my heart." The photo would also show the dorky clothes, glasses, shoes, and hairstyles we actually spend money to wear. I'm sure the fashions in said photo would evoke a good laugh in the future.
3. An ipod, because it will be totally obsolete as technology continues to advance at the speed of sound. It will probably be a collector's item.
4. The one and only poem my husband wrote me (several years ago) and made me promise not to show anyone outside the family while he is alive. I would put it in a time capsule because in 100 years, if the poem were read by one of our descendents, they might say, "Awww, that's sweet. He really loved her. What a nice way to show her!" And, if the divorce rate in the world keeps increasing, it might be a very rare thing that husbands and wives stay together for anywhere close to "five and twenty".

Actually, today is our 25th wedding anniversary, so 100 years from today would be a really, REALLY big anniversary and reason to read a mushy poem from a husband to his wife, wouldn't it?

5. A mustard seed. It's a symbol of faith and hope. Everyone needs those.

3. What do you like on a cracker?

Peanut butter and jelly. Or summer sausage with dijon.

4. Do you make resolutions at the start of a new year? How'd that work out
for you this past year?

I do make resolutions, and it didn't work out so well. I am embarrassed by how few I stuck to, or how few goals I accomplished. My nature is to set lofty goals, which I did at the beginning of the year, but suffered a severe depression in the summer and plummeted into a state of feeling as if nothing mattered, so why make goals? I felt defeated by the littlest failure.

5. What's a song or song lyric you'll associate with 2011?


Though Satan should buffet,
Though trials should come,
Let this blessed assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And had shed His own blood for my soul"

— It Is Well With My Soul.

I had so many physical, emotional, and spiritual trials in 2011 that I am more than ready to kick this year out the door. God has redeemed (or is in the process of redeeming) those trials and has brought healing on many levels, has given me grace to forgive and move on for the most part, but there is still work to be done.

However, I am not stuck in the same place I was a year ago. In the deepest pit I was reminded (most often by other people, because I was having major resistance to reading encouragement from the Bible) that no matter what, God loves me, is for me, and will do what He has promised because He is faithful and cannot lie, and He cannot love me any more than He already does. As for human love, I am learning to expect it less in the ways I want it, and accept it more in the only ways that some people are capable of expressing it. The truth is we live in a sinful, fallen world and can't be loved to love's fullest extent. The best we can do is show love to as many people as we can, as best we can, as often as we can.


6. How will you ring in the new year?

Not sure yet. I would like to whoop it up at someone else's house, but I have an intense fear of drunk drivers, so I usually opt to want my brood in the nest playing board games and watching the ball drop on TV instead of at someone else's party on New Year's Eve. Of course I can't control the decisions of Kids 1-3, so I will have to live with whatever they decide to do. Maybe we'll all be here playing this new cool game called Wits and Wagers, eating snacks, and toasting with champagne and sparkling cider. That's my idea of fun. Oh, and I always blow an out-of-tune French horn at midnight. I stick my head out my bedroom window and make 'er bellow. Sounds like a cow in need of emergency veterinary care, and it really embarrasses my kids. Maybe I should stop in the name of love!

7. What is something you look forward to in 2012?

Our daughter's college graduation ceremony in January and our son's wedding in March. I was hoping for a trip to Italy after the wedding to celebrate our 25th anniversary, but it doesn't look financially possible at this point. Waaaa. But I hold a mustard seed in my heart that someday this dream will come to fruition.


8. Insert your own random thought here.

I have now been married four years longer than I was single. My husband has been married the same number of years as he was single. According to my calculations, that makes him older than me.

Miscellany Monday with Gratitude

Linking up at a blog called "lowercase letters" for Miscellany Monday. I am not only listing 8 randoms today, I am also grateful for all of them. (I'm having trouble getting the cute button to work. Sorry, Carissa.)


One. Going Green in a Smoothie Kind of Way.
I made this one today from things that had to be used up: Peach-Ginger Smoothie
1 cup canned peaches
1 fresh peach
1 tablespoon fresh grated ginger
1 handful of ice
2 handfuls of fresh spinach
1 slice of cucumber & 1 slice of nectarine for garnish, because I just love garnishes.
Two. New-to-Us Patio Furniture. Free.
My husband has a wonderful, kind, friendly, and generous friend named Curtis. When Curtis and his wife bought a new table and chairs for themselves, Curtis offered us the old set. Can I tell you it's an answer to prayer? Not only is it classy and in good shape, it has an umbrella and doubles the amount of seating on our deck. Now we can have a large group over without dragging camp chairs and kitchen chairs from hither and yon. THREE. Fresh herbs.
I simply marvel that God makes so many different gorgeous variations on the shape and shade of leaves. The beauty of basil.
FOUR. Having my whole family--everyone--finally, on board with better eating resolve. For health. For taste. For wedding. It's a joy to make things like this Caribbean Chicken Salad and have everyone appreciate it.

FIVE. Bright red petunias that ask for a little water and lots of sunshine and return the favor with daily cheer.

SIX. Almost 33 child-free hours, just my silver-haired sweetie and me.
From noon on Saturday when Sarah took Joel to camp, while Steve was in PA and Ben was in NJ,
we had a glorious, wonderfully quiet, relaxed nest. He cut the grass and called it a day. I washed about 347 dishes and utensils by hand because the dishwasher wasn't acting right and all the "clean" dishes came out with dried-on gunk, so I scrubbed them manually, and called it a day. We just chilled, and for dinner brought home a Maryland crab cake platter and a cheesesteak sub. (Okay, so the better-eating resolve is kind of evolving! Sometimes an indulgence is merited, as in the name of celebrating a no-kids-home weekend.)

SEVEN. Cake Balls. I'd never heard of them until Kelly at Through the Water, wrote a "controversial" post. So cute that her choice of a "controversial post" was about cake mixes vs. made-from-scratch cakes, and how some people get cranky at the mere mention of cake mixes!

I was going to make a 13x9 of Steve's favorite yellow cake with chocolate frosting so he could enjoy a mini-birthday party with friends at camp. But, since I had other things also baking (I was in a mood) the cake got a bit overdone. Not badly, but it turned out "not pretty." While it cooled, I read blogs. Lo and behold, the solution to my problem was literally at my fingertips! Cake Balls are simple, messy, and the perfect way to delishify a flop.

Cake Balls:
-Crumble up a baked boxed cake
-Add a can of frosting.
-Mash it all up together in your hands and form balls.
-Freeze the balls. I read you can freeze them for 15 minutes to six hours. I froze them for four while I did other things. They were perfect to work with--no crumbling.
-Melt 3 large Hershey bars in the microwave with a little bit of milk. The milk gives you a good sheen.
-Roll each ball in melted chocolate. (Work quickly. The chocolate hardens fast.)
-Refrigerate on a tray for 15 minutes. Serve or seal as you desire.
-Enjoy the taste and the compliments!


( Did I mention these are messy? At first I felt like quitting, but then I realized there was no turning back and just declared it an adventure. I can get through almost anything if it's called an adventure.) Besides, Joel was having a blast with the camera.

I didn't get a shot of the finished product. But I can say that they passed the test kitchen's approval! And they were a big hit with the counselors.

EIGHT. My son (the supposedly wise camp counselor) spent his time off Saturday jumping off a 30-foot cliff into water below! I found out from his Facebook status, and let me tell you, it made my palms sweat and my heart race. Had he told me ahead of time, I probably would've retched. I thank God He didn't let Steve die or be paralyzed for life.

I Can See Italy From Here, After All !

Last night my husband and I went out to dinner to celebrate his Big Five-O. All the kids had commitments elsewhere, so I had him all to myself. I like it that way sometimes. Those green eyes meeting mine. The conversation uninterrupted by, "Dad. Guess what? Guess what?"

But hey, guess what?

We talked about Italy , and it's back on the map. Well, technically it never left the map, but it's back in our conversation. We had just bid the notion farewell for this August because of the cost to go then and also because it's the worst time to be in that country. And when we wrote it off, we entertained thoughts of a cruise instead, for half the cost. We also had people suggest places like Yosemite, Grand Canyon, and other points of interest with in our borders.

But, we concluded that we really DO want to see Italy more than go on a cruise and want to do it before we're truly old and decrepit. (He said this as he propped up his gout-ridden left toe beside me at the restaurant table.) We really do want to mark our 25th anniversary with it. We would rather take Joel on a tour out West and not connect it w/ our romantic getaway. Besides, hiking out West in August doesn't appeal to either of us. Hiking uphill doesn't either. That's work, not relaxation for us.

As it stands now, we are shooting for Italy in the best month to be there: April. We could probably get our older kids to watch Joel, it'll be after the stress of Ben's wedding in March,
and it will give us time to sock away a bit more cash for it.

So, I am very happy today. Makes me crave garlic, onions, and Roma tomatoes just thinking about it.

Arrivederci, Roma

We've decided not to go to Italy in August after all.


Yes, we--my husband and I--have agreed to delay our trip to Italy. Indefinitely.

The reasons are many, but the two biggest are seasonal and monetary. After really digging in to researching for a trip (including word-of-mouth "advertising") it appears that August would be the worst month to visit.

It is usually hot, and most of Europe goes on holiday, which means many of them go to Italy, and many Italian business owners (hoteliers, restauranteurs, shopkeepers) close their doors to get their own R&R. Some hotels are not air conditioned. I don't do heat very well; Paul doesn't do crowds very well.

Granted, a romantic getaway should involve some hot and sweaty activity. (You people! I'm talking about spelunking, and if you don't know what that is, look it up!)

We've been told that September is the ideal month. Cooler. Shops open. Less crowded. However, it's just not an option because of school starting. August was our only month when we have built-in child care, thanks to our gracious and generous daughter, who was willing to take on that responsibility after the summer classes at college are over.

Who knows? Maybe God will send us a windfall and the opportunity to take our dream vacation sometime after we've celebrated our actual 25th anniversary. But if we were to go now, we'd have to go into debt to afford the costs which are twice in August what my sister Jill paid last November. I regret having gotten my hopes up based on the amazing deal she got-- $1200 per person, airfare and hotel included!

Am I disappointed? Of course.

But--here's a more than a tidbit testimony for ya-- I have a peace in the midst of the disappointment. That part is an answer to my prayer: "Father, give me a peace to accept whatever the outcome without getting angry."

If you knew how closely disappointment and anger are in my emotional make-up, you would realize what grace has been shelled out in this decision. It was actually I who said first to Paul, "I don't think Italy in August is such a wise idea." Normally it's the other way around, Mr. Finance putting the facts to Miss Wanderlust. It was not the Typical Me begging, whining, and having a tantrum over not getting what I really wanted.

Yes, it's only taken 45 years and 10 months to get to this point. (Ask me in late August how I'm doing.)


Arrivaderci, Roma. You shall remain but a dream. And a song. Perhaps I ask-a my groom-a to serenade me with thissa, on our anniversary date-a, which might be more affordable at the Bel-Loc Diner-a than in Italia, anyway-a.

Ciao, Tuscany, at least in my fantasy.

Bye-bye-uh, Venizia, temporarily. I pray for the day we can spend an afternoon...or two...or seven, enjoying your splendor and beauty.

Early Valentine Surprise

My honey really spoiled me this year!

On the way out
to run errands
together on Saturday, and to meet my sister's new puppy, Paul said he had a surprise--a trip to Nelson Coleman
Jewelers.

We got there and he told me to pick out what I wanted "within reason."


So I did.

But not without some turmoil in my heart.

I kept thinking of all the other ways we could use the money, and how many kids in Africa could be fed with this money, but I felt God say, "Let him bless you." I resisted some more,
torn between guilt of choosing a luxury and yet wanting to affirm my husband's romantic initiative and spot-on thoughtfulness. He has often felt challenged in the romance and gift-giving department. Why spoil it with rejection?

We were engaged 25 years ago last month; this seems a fitting reminder of his proposal and my "yes!" way back when.

At one point in the jewelry store, I got really close to his face, whispering, tears of gratitude welling up in my eyes, "Why are you doing this?" And he said, "It's an investment." I took it both as "financial" and "relational" investment:). But then he added, "And I might not be around much longer." I smacked him playfully and said, "Don't SAY that! Why would you say that, honey? It scares me when you talk like that."

I finally decided it would be best to receive his blessing with joy and gratitude--the response I'd want if I'd given someone a generous gift meant solely for them as a lasting token of my love.

His joy was my joy. My joy, his. To me that is the essence of romance--knowing your mate and doing what makes him/her feel cherished. I love jewelry! I love anticipating a surprise that I've been told is coming. I love being given time to admire the very same kind of jewels that God told Solomon to use to build His temple--and without guilt! God did not say, "You'll glorify Me more if you use cubic zirconias and rhinestones," so I'm thinking He smiles when we enjoy a little of His creation on our fingers!

This ring fits perfectly without any sizing needed, and looks made to go with my 10th anniversary band. I will always treasure it. Not that I need jewelry to feel loved, but I feel loved when I'm given jewelry--and my Paul knows that very well. Mwah!!

23 Years

Weight Weport, Week 12: Fury and Honor

One week it was grace that seemed to summarize my weight loss (or maybe I should have termed it mercy, because it's all grace) when I did nothing to deserve progress on the scale. Another week it was perseverence, when I kept going after a gain, feeling crushed in spirit.

I would describe the past two legs of my journey with the word honor.

To make this brief, let me say that Paul wanted me to consider quitting Weight Watchers for two reasons:
1. He thinks I can lose weight on my own now.
2. We could save $12 a week.

My response?
Fury.

I felt he was trying to sabotage my success. I stomped my feet metaphorically and wagged my tongue not-so-metaphorically. It was unfair of me. He was simply saying that his confidence is in God, not in Weight Watchers, and now that I was applying self-control to knowledge, walking in repentance, did I really need a support group or to spend 12 dollars a week to get on a scale? Wasn't Karen enough as a human accountability partner?

I seriously thought he had reduced my progress to dollars and cents and maybe he secretly didn't want a thin, attractive wife. (Yeh, like that's ever be going to be thought by any man!) I wish I didn't have to confess how furious I became, but such is the nature of the beast within.

When I finally calmed down, I realized I had unfairly accused him. He truly believed I had reached a point at which I could go it alone. And he truly thinks about money way more than I do. Honestly, he thinks about money to the degree I think about food--which he has confessed is a problem--but I will say he's made far more wise choices with money than I have with food, prior to April 29th when my journey began.

He really had no ill will toward me. Isn't that sick that I could think my beloved would not want me to continue this blessed quest for satisfaction in God, as well as health and freedom? How my thoughts had distorted his meaning and built a case against my prince!

Still, I was not ready to quit WW cold turkey. So I asked him if he'd be okay with my going every other week? He said it was up to me. Oh, joy! I had the opportunity to put my newfound
habits to the test of 2-week accountabilty as well as the chance to prove to Paul that I honored his (very deep) desire to save money. All I asked of God was to please help me lose at least 1.5 pounds a week for two weeks. All I asked of Paul was that if I couldn't do at least that much, please believe I still need weekly plunking down of money in exchange for motivation.

Well, I am thrilled to report how God honored both Paul's desires and mine.

After a two-week hiatus from WW, I weighed in today.
Loss? 3 pounds.

I almost giggled when the lady told me. The Lord seemed to whisper to me as I stepped off the scale, "He who honors Me, I will honor." (I Sam. 2:30)

Total now: 18.4.
I'm down a dress size and a pants size.

Most importantly this week, I have seen (by looking hard for) increased faith in God because of my husband's request--a request that initially sent shockwaves of fear and subsequent fury through my body. It revealed to me just how powerful my thought life is and that's what I really need accountability for.

Happy 25th Anniversary, Barb and Boyd

A Poem for my Wonderful Friend and Her Husband



Can it really be that you've been married
For twenty-five years already--
Longer than you were single?
Now that's what I call "going steady"!

You've weathered many storms
On the road that is named Marriage
And you've brought two darling babies home
In a true blue baby carriage.

Boyd, you're the kind of man
who can fix most everything
From broken trykes to Harley bikes
And a troubled washing machine.

Barb, you're the kind of woman
Every avid hunter wants near
'Cuz not only can you shoot
But you can also gut a deer!

Boyd, you're the kind of man
Who shows up for work each day
And makes the old folks laugh a lot
While he's collecting hard-earned pay.

Barb, you're the kind of woman
Whom other women admire
You're compassionate and gentle
And for God you are on fire.

Kansas grows some good stuff--
The best are corn and wheat--
But far better than those combined
Are marriages that can't be beat.

The two of you make one good match
You're among the finest couples
I pray the next 25 years will find
You growing closer in your nuptials.




Happy anniversary, you guys. How blessed I am to witness the grace of God in your marriage through thick and thin. I've gotta say, though, it makes me feel really old when my friends have been married longer than we have. Oh, it's a good thing, but I'm just sayin'...

Diary of a Bathroom Painter's Wife

1. As a couple, Paul and I have similar design and decorating tastes. Of course he would never willing put his name in the same sentence with the words "design and decorating." He would say, rather, he knows what he likes and doesn't like to see in the house. Four colors will never come from his paintbrush onto these walls: blue, pink, yellow, or orange. The only times he compromised were in 1992 (when Sarah wanted buttercream walls to go with her baby doll wallpaper border), in 1999 when the same child wanted sky blue walls, and in 2006 when she wanted one of four walls in a grapey purple with cobalt trim. He will bend--and break--for that daughter of ours.

2. It takes us a good while to agree on a paint color. When going between his choice and mine, he says, "It's up to you." So I get what I like (or think I'll like). Today it was a color called "Falling Leaves" to match a color in my inspiration piece of art. Turns out "Falling Leaves" appeared to change color on its way home from Home Depot. When Paul slapped on the first few strokes, I thought he'd have a stroke of his own. "Falling Leaves" looked more like "V-8: The Morning After." (I Googled "spilled tomato juice" for an image; whaddya know?)

3. Scott at the local Home Depot should be getting a Customer Service Award if my two cents to the manager has the promised effect. Scott spent at least a half hour tyring to find a cure for the Falling Leaves. God bless him, eight years of paint school training couldn't have prepared him to doctor my diseased color choice. I finally asked him to start over and color match the original swatch of a Lowe's color I liked ("Rustica" by Valspar) but using Behr paint which we love.

4. Dear hubby the painter has applied the first coat. I'm going to slip downstairs and take a look-see. I sure hope my Rembrandt likes Rustica.

My Husband Just Asked Me Out

I got home from school today and Stephen told me right away, "Dad wants you to call him. He said something about going out for dinner."

Who-ee! I don't care how old I get or how many years we've been married, there's still a giddy high-school girl in me that loves to be asked out by my honey.

I called him and he said, "So, are you available tonight?"

"Well, letmecheckmyscheduleyes!"

"Good."

"Where are we going?"

"I can't tell you."

"Hmm, a surprise?"

"Well, not really. Here's the deal," he explained. Apparently his female boss was to meet three women from out of town for dinner tomorrow, and now can't, so she asked Paul's only male co-worker to fill in for her. The co-worker, in turn, asked Paul to come along and keep him company tomorrow evening with these women, and Paul said yes, on one condition. "I can't say yes unless I take Zo out tonight."

Good answer. Good man.

Sure, I could be upset that he didn't just think of all this date stuff spontaneously, but I am choosing to rejoice that he has prioritized a nice dinner with me in the name of pleasure (self-preservation?) before entertaining strangers in the name of business.

"Then, should I keep my school dress on?"

"Well, it's Mountain Branch. You don't need to, but you can."

I will. Dressing up makes it feel all the more special.

Lalalallalalaallaa. I'm so excited. It's been a while since we had a nice romantic evening.

The Man Who Cried "Woof"

Admit it, ladies. Every now and then your man deserves the doghouse. Maybe you asked for something "personal" to wear, and he bought you a Super-Pak of socks. Or perhaps he actually uttered a remark that should've stayed inside his head. Or it could be that the "electrifying surprise" he had hyped for three months prior to your birthday resembled one that the woman in this funny video received.

Thanks to Kathy for posting. I'm putting the video here for my BFF BL in KS and anyone else who might miss it on KW's.

Three Wee Rings: My Anniversary Song this Year

Three wee rings aren't boring at all
They just don't fit me; they are too small.
Blame four sweet children
Hormones and choc-o-late
And I’m not very tall.

Oh, oh,
Jewels by day and jewels by night
Diamonds, rubies, shine so bright.
My eyes lingered on toys for my fingers,
Sparkling at Coleman's store.

The nice clerk, she measured me right:
My old rings were much too tight
Two decades and
twenty-four months had
Added two sizes to

My, aye,
Ring finger (I'm sad to say).
Felt relief --oh!-- right away.
"Come back on the tenth," she said to us,
"They will be ready then."

Ate at Roy's --we had a great time--
Set us back far more than a dime.
Maui Wowie, that was my sallie(d)
Tasty and pretty food.

Paul had
Spicy Salmon, I had fish:
Butterfish it was delish
Hard crustini, one martini
(Not really, but it rhymes.)

Then came une piece de resistance
Chocolate lava cake for romance
A la mode I love to promote
Though it hangs on
Far too long.

Hence the
Need for sizing
Three wee rings
Up two sizes, bling ca-ching!
I'm so happy, hear me clappy
My honey spent much on me.

Hmmm...what to do, what to do...

I feel like this hummingbird. (Sarah gave the feeder to me for my birthday in August. I LOVED the hummingbirds that fed on it, the little birdies no bigger than my thumb.)

I sit and say, "Hmmm. What to do? What to do? It's that time again. Time to figure out where to go and what to do." The occasion? Our anniversary. The perennial problem of choosing a destination for celebrating our marriage.

My Paul admits to being neither romantic nor creative in such ways (though he has pulled off a few delightful surprises in our nearly 22 years as husband and wife). I am the harder of the two of us to please, with my high ideals, so pity the guy who has the good fortune to plan memories for me! I've gotten better at lowering my expectations, but "anniversary" screams "expectations!" almost as loudly as Christmas does --and in our case, they're three days apart. If I'm plum out of creative energy by the 25th of December, let alone the 28th, imagine his pressure!

So, what do we like? What would make a good memory for us? Let me tell you a little about our "cherished preferences," as our pastor calls such things.

Paul likes: good food, good wine (though seldom pays for it with dinner; he'd rather buy a whole bottle and get 4 times the beverage from it, later, at home). He hates crowds. Conversation optional. He doesn't like B&Bs (says he doesn't like paying to feel like a guest in someone else's home). He doesn't mind a drive under an hour. Not crazy about the city since he's worked in it for 25 years. He prefers countryside, beaches, or mountains. Dressing up is okay. Won't pay to see a movie at the cinema unless it's highly recommended, but no rom-coms. (For him they're predictably dumb and he hates seeing lust portrayed as love. Good man.) He likes action films, but realizes they're a poor choice with me as his flick chick. Hates, hates, hates theatre.

I like: good food, good wine (with dinner, TYVM!), romantic settings (which, by my definition, includes soft candlelight, jazz music, live flowers, tender touches, exchanging glances across the table, glances just for me--sap, sap, sap! gag!--I'll stop. When I ask him to do that, he makes google eyes at me.) Crowds don't bother me (just no kids anywhere within earshot on our date night), music live or recorded makes no diff, no great walking distance, conversation mandatory. A little wrapped shiny thing in a box is especially hoped for, but not expected. I like B&Bs, but not with him, knowing he doesn't like them, so nix that idea. Love to dress up. I could do a 4-hour trip to West Virginia if weather's decent. (That's where we honeymooned.) I know it sounds redneck but you know the motto: West Virginia--almost heaven. I don't like to go to a movie on a date unless we've already had good conversation over dinner, because I feel it's a waste of time to sit next to each other paying to not talk. We like movies that show old people in love, where gnarled fingers interlock and crow's feet around the eyes means the elderly couple's been smiling at each other for 50 years, even though she may not recognize him any more. "The Notebook," for example. I love theatre. Who cares if it's predictable?

I'm burnt out on creativity this time of year and Paul admits to almost never being creative. So, anybody wanna help this old couple find a new thing to do on their anniversary? Perhaps you can "feed" this hummingbird some ideas?

21 Years Yesterday

This shot was taken while we were waiting for Stephen to make his now-famous Greek meal.

Last night we dressed up, took pictures, went out to dinner at the Union Hotel, then came home.

I haven't gotten around to editing the dressy pictures, and Paul hates to be photographed, so he always looks like he doesn't want to be doing whatever it is the picture is about, in this case, celebrating our marriage. Although, in all honesty, 2007 was a very difficult year for us, and we both agreed last night that '08 has got to be better. I was thinking I'm not superstitious, but you know what they say about the 7-year itch in marriage. Well, every multiple of 7 in our marital history has been a downer. The other ones were much better.

But what I've done is resolve to commit to changing, by God's grace, only myself, my actions and reactions. It seems like an impossibility sometimes, but I can change, I just know it. I have faith, we are both committed believers, and we're staying true to our marriage vows, for better or for worse being the hardest. That and submitting to him when I disagree. Or in his case, loving me as Christ loves the church. We both admit the bar is impossibly high without grace.

We went out to dinner at a place called the Union Hotel. It was built on the Susquehanna River in Port Deposit, Maryland, circa 1783. An old log cabin with a gourmet restaurant on one level and a biker tavern on the lower, it had come highly recommended to us. (by diners, not bikers).

I was not at all disappointed, but Paul was. Our appetizer was crab-stuffed mushrooms. Delicious, no complaints. The bread was fairly tasty, though a bit overdone, and Paul didn't care for the "weird butters" of honey maple and raspberry. My entree was a seafood special of jumbo lump crabcakes, butterfly shrimp, and scallops. Absolutely wonderful, succulent, barely short of perfect. He got the bourbon marinated flank steak, expecting something sweet like a Friday's steak, but it was, in his words "too vinegary." My salad was just okay. The cherry tomato was as big as a golf ball and almost as hard. I thought that if I didn't slice into it just right, it'd go boing/swoosh/splat right onto Paul's tie, but it didn't. Score one for my ability to cut a golf ball with a butter knife. Our table was wobbly in both directions. Made of original planks, there was a one-inch gap right down the center. I made sure I kept my napkin fully stretched across my lap lest I spill my chablis on my new dress. Our waitress was probably what was most disappointing. First when we got there, she and the other one kept going back and forth over whose turn it was to take a table. Come on, ,ladies, not here, I wanted to say. The longer you fuss, the smaller your tip. If you want a nice tip, treat us like you want us to be here, and differ on that point in that kitchen. They wear old-fashioned dresses and bonnets in keeping with the history, but Paul remarked to me, "they're just plain ugly." That says a lot. He almost never comments on anyone's outfit, ever--even mine when I think I look especially good--he is just not one to notice, or comment if he does. So for him to say an outfit's ugly, well, it oughta be on What Not to Wear. So our waitress was very Balmer, hon. "Yous enjoyed your meals?" Yes, weeees did, I wanted to say. But I was polite: "We did, thanks. It was a nice way to celebrate our 21st anniversary." She said, "Yous should of told me. I woulda brought yous a free dessert of the Union cake." It is their signature dish. Well, it tastes like yellow cake with Jiffy vanilla pudding, and is topped with whipped cream and some walnuts just floppped on top. (We got it to go, since we had not saved room for it and didn't think about a freebie dessert for the occasion.) ANyway, if that's their signature dish, they ought to retake penmanship. But it was okay for a free ten o'clock sweet treat.

All in all, this date was probably very symbolic date of our 21st year. Okay, but leaves much more to be desired. So here's to '08. Yous can bet it'll be better than this past year, hon.