Second Chances

So, today was our 45th wedding anniversary. We were suppose to be grooving in Newnan, Georgia with Alan Jackson. There was also a surprise party planned for us, or so I was told. There were to be mariachis because every decent party has mariachis. 

But instead, we ended up grooving to the beep of a heart monitor here. There were no mariachis. I checked. 

As I walked down the hall alone, I read this sign and thought, yep. The heart often knows.

This guy decided blocked arteries were more important than Alan Jackson. In forty-five years of marriage, I have never seen him eat vegetables. Not. Even. Joking. But suddenly, I find him eating every last carrot, a few bites of potato and leaving the mystery meat on the plate. Seems blocked arteries wake up your taste buds.

Seems blocked arteries also wake up your sense of humor. The nurses are all crushing on the old man. I mean, the nurses all look to be twelve so......Slow your roll, Grandpappy.

This is the face of my beloved as a small child. My understanding is, this was his face more often than naught. 

Funny how some things never change.

There was no Alan Jackson. There were no mariachis or margaritas. But I received the best anniversary gift my husband has ever given me. I received hope of more time together. There is nothing, absolutely nothing, I want more than more time with my husband.

Bob will be having triple by-pass surgery on Monday at noon. We are both scared and shocked and extremely grateful to God for second chances.

Please pray.

Better Than A Swollen Head, I Suppose

So, yesterday I flew for almost three hours to get home from Texas. Then, an hour after landing, we jumped in the car for our five hour drive to Georgia. My almost not broken anymore ankle decided to be a jerk and let me know she did not appreciate the days activities by swelling up like a watermelon. I'm sure the decision to swell had nothing to do with the previous few days of margaritas, wine and fondue because even my almost not broken anymore ankle knows it would take more than that to make me change my ways.

Anyway, today I decided to show Leftie, that's what we've named her, who's boss by putting her back on ice. My grandson decided that a snake tattoo would really show Leftie who's in charge and I couldn't disagree so, I am now sporting a new tattoo.

I think this tattoo makes me look quite tough and scary. Like I could handle anything. Even two little boys and a big, red dog for a few days. Bring it on!

Then the littlest guy decided to show me who's really in charge by firing water bombs at me. With a fire truck I bought. Talk about adding insult to injury.

Free Advice Friday

 Tonight's Free Advice:

When visiting grandchildren, always make room on the bed for late night visitors, no matter how they smell. Because, you're Nono and Papa to all of them.

Fondue Forks Make Me Happy

Tonight is my last night in Dallas. I fly out first thing in the morning, heading for home, for a minute anyway. Two dear friends from Oklahoma drove all the way down here to go out to dinner with me. I love these two kids. They are family to me. We first met over twenty years ago when they had one little baby boy. We quickly connected and through a series of events, they ended up living on the farm with us for a short while. The cool thing is, while they were living with us, their second baby, a girl, was born on the farm. I was there and got to help with the delivery. I'll never forget that day or the privilege of being a part of something so amazing as the birth of a baby.

I also got to experience Emily running naked across our back pasture one afternoon. Ok, she was being chased by a tornado but that's another story for another day. In fairness, I'm pretty sure she and Jon experienced Bob chasing goats in his underwear in the middle of the night, so yeah. Fun times. Being friends with the Hansen's is not for the faint of heart, that's all I'm saying.

Jon is the reason Bob and I got into the insurance business. He tried to convince us to do it for years and we finally listened. It's one of the best career moves we ever made and we're forever grateful to have a friend that loved us enough to not give up on us until we gave in. It changed our lives for the better in so many ways.

Anyway, tonight we went out, ate fondue, drank wine, (ok, I drank wine) and talked and cried and laughed until my stomach hurt. There is something absolutely healing about this kind of friendship. I am grateful and a little more whole tonight because of these two. 

Thank you, Jon and Emily. I love you both.

No Mas

Had dinner at Abuelos with the other managers tonight. Ordered a margarita. This is exactly what you get when you order ONE EL JEFE MARGARITA. One full glass and a bottle of several more ready, waiting and taunting you, the victim.

El Jefe. Delicious. Don't do it. 

My mother was right. This old gray mare ain't what she use to be.

That is all.

Hi Ho, Hi Ho

So, today was my first time back in the home office in over a year. It was a bit stressful at first but before long, I was reminded of how much I actually like being a part of a work group. We went through our two strategic planning meetings and they were really productive. I actually don't recall this group ever laughing together as much as we did today. I think the last year of separation and working remotely full-time took a bigger toll on people than most of us realized. It's good to be heading back to some form of normal. I'm feeling pretty grateful.

Tomorrow will be a fairly normal work day in the office which is great because I have lots of catching up to do. Then, it was decided we'd all go out to dinner after work. There was quite a bit of discussion regarding margaritas. It's all starting to come back to me now.

Ready, Set..........

I am absolutely beat. With less than five hours of sleep last night, I was at the airport by 6:00 AM this morning. No coffee. Gimping through the airport with a stupid mostly healed not quite broken ankle. And a bad attitude. Not Michael Jackson BAD. More like Maleficent BAD. 

Then there was the two and a half hour non-stop flight which should have been good even for a flying hater like me. But nooooo. We had to encounter some "weather conditions." I've been on the Tower of Terror. Twice now after today.

Finally, I make it to Dallas, call the hotel for the shuttle that I've taken a bazillion times. No shuttle. Covid. Seriously? I'm throwing fireballs from my wonky eyes now. So I call a Lyft and the most wonderful Syrian man picks me up and we have the most amazing conversation during the fifteen minute ride and I think, ok, maybe this isn't so bad.

I get to the hotel, order some DoorDash food because the hotel won't do room service because of COVID. Don't. Even. Get. Me. Started. I start working on my presentation when I realize ninety minutes has passed with no food. I call Door Dash. Oops! Sorry. We don't have a Dasher for you. So many unkind Christmas themed remarks bounce through my brain but I still have a little of my Syrian happiness going for me, so I simply say no worries and hang up. Thirty minutes later, the second order I attempted arrives but the front desk calls and says I have to go downstairs and pick up the order because....COVID!! @*$Y(%%)Y$.

I get my crappy fast food because that's all I could find to deliver, I go back upstairs, eat on the bed, desperately want to sleep after but drag my sorry bad maleficent self back to the desk and work for another nine hours. Then my boss shows up, we head downstairs to the empty restaurant that wont deliver, doesn't have coffee, or hot tea, or cold tea but does have soda. I give the nice young waiter my best but I'm an old lady having a real rough time of it and I desperately need hot tea speech. The kid laughs and disappears only to reappear with enough hot tea for a year. He wanted to make sure I had enough to take to my room as well. Ok, maybe the day isn't all @*&%&)#(&%.

And here I am at midnight, setting my alarm for 6:00 AM so I'm not late for the day tomorrow. I have two presentations with the big mucky mucks and I'm hoping to not look totally stupid. Seriously, I'd settle for mildly stupid. 

That's when I looked over and saw my pages and pages of notes with my tea and mints and I think God spoke to me. I think He reminded me that I'm original and usually celebrated probably because I tend to be curiously strong. It was either God or delirium. Pray for me, Saints.