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.

Texas, Here I Come

I'm heading to Texas in the morning for a week in the home office. I have been summons. 

• Alarm set for 5:00 AM ✅
• Suitcase packed ✅
• Laundry in the dryer because I was out of clean underwear so now I am praying I don't forget to get clean underwear out of the dryer at 5:00 AM because going commando in the office is more than likely frowned upon ✅
• Working from home has ruined me for life ✅

Oh, Tuna Boat, Where Art Thou?

My first car was a 1963 Ford Falcon. I was seventeen years old and my father had offered to buy me a new car if I'd stop my falderole with Bob Hansen. He also offered to send me to Europe and numerous other ridiculousness in exchange for Hansen's head on a silver platter. I wasn't having any of it because I was in love. Looking back, I'm just really thankful he didn't offer to buy me a Brown Swiss cow because that might have changed history. I'm just saying.

Anyway, I had a friend that was selling his tan 1963 Ford Falcon, much like the one in this picture, for $125. That was one months rent back in the day but I really wanted the Falcon, so I bought it. My parents were not thrilled but I couldn't have been happier. I had paid for it with my own money and there was something exciting about that. Oh sure, the drivers window fell down if you closed the door too hard and the passenger seat fell into the backseat if you leaned too hard on it. There was also a choke that you had to pull out into just the right spot or the car would die. None of that mattered to me. I loved that funky little car. Truthfully, I wish I still had it.

When we first met, Bob was driving a 1968 Mustang, pretty close to the one above. It was our first makeout car. We were both much smaller then, so it worked. 

Right before we got married in 1976, Bob decided he needed a truck so he bought a brand-spanking new bright yellow Datsun pickup similar to the one above. It cost $3,000 which was crazy money for us. Our Datsun took us up the coast for our honeymoon and a few years later to the drive-in theater with a baby sleeping between us in a carrier. Car seats? What were those? I drove our little truck up and down the Central Coast with our first son while Bob worked at the phone company. It's also the truck I  gave more hitchhikers than I can remember rides in. Looking back, I can't believe how many times I brought people home so they could shower and we could feed them a meal. How did I not end up on some true crime magazine? 

After the Datsun, a string of bad decision cars happened. Bob, like so many guys I know, (Charlie Casas) loved swapping out cars constantly. We had some big giant bomb of a Chrysler we called The Tuna Boat, then there was the little woodie Pinto station wagon. 

Finally, we bought a brand-new minivan for our growing family of three boys. I really felt we could be happy hanging onto our Aerostar for decades. But nooooooo!

One Saturday, my husband and my minivan disappeared only to have something very similar to the picture above roll into our driveway. I mean, of course. Made perfect sense to swap our almost new minivan for this thing that had no heat, no air, was really loud when you rode in it and gassed you out of the front seat. I was completely outnumbered however. Our family of now five children loved the VW. They still talk about it to this day and our oldest son recently bought one. The legacy of crazy continues.

After a second VW Bus joined the family, my dad had had enough, so he bought a brand new Renault for us for our anniversary. He let it be known that he was not going to have his daughter and grandchildren driving around in some old beater and the Renault was going to ensure we were safe. The first time Bob and I took the Renault on a fancy couples weekend getaway with another couple, it stranded us and our friends in the middle of nowhere. More than thirty years later and we still haven't lived it down with Jim and Dawn. This also gave Bob the gumption for his next bad car decision. Oh no, yes he did. 

That man o'mine took our year old Renault one morning, while I was still asleep, and swapped it for a Scooby Doo twelve passenger van that looked like this one in the picture, minus the fancy stripe. Yeah, ours looked like a prison van. I was often asked if I worked for a daycare or a church. Fun times. So, thought I, we obviously need more people in this family with all these empty seats and thus began our sixth adoption plus six years as foster parents. I showed him! 

In all fairness to my wonderful husband, this van made our move to Oklahoma so much easier. How would we have ever moved Zoey our piggy or Max and Angie our goats plus six kids half way across the country without our Scooby Doo van? Even my dad, bless his heart, got involved and built a swine suite in the very back that Zoey shared with her goat brother and sister on the trip. You haven't fully experienced life until you've driven fourteen hundred miles in a Scooby Doo van with six kids, a pig and two goats. Oh yeah, I forgot about the dog, two cats and one bird. 

Eventually, kids grew up and started to leave the nest so a couple of minivans were bought. Then sold.

A beautiful blue Suburban was purchased for me as a gift from my husband. I loved that car. Then, it was totaled by two teenagers that shall remain nameless. (Andrew and Belen) A brown suburban replaced Blue Bette. No children were allowed to drive the new guy.

Finally, we were down to one kid and back into a minivan or two. Then, we were down to just the two of us and one truck for the last two years. When my car crapped out and with no kids to run around, I felt like I really didn't need a car anyway. Bob, on the other hand, drives an insane amount of miles for work, so we poured our money into his work truck. Until today.

Today we decided to car shop for me. This is something I hadn't done since I was seventeen, shop for a car that was just for me. On the way to the dealership, the Batmobile passed by. No, really! Look!! I wondered aloud if this was some kind of omen. Bob, being the great husband he is, asked if I wanted him to speed up or slow down to get better pictures. Isn't life amazing when you're both nuts in the relationship? Anyway, I got this picture as Batman sped by. I'm sure he was on his way to do some type of hero stuff. I did get a little excited when he followed us all the way to the dealership. I mean, what if the Batmobile was a trade-in? You know what I would have been driving home.

Thanks for the new ride, Mr. Hansen. I will be hiding the keys from you. Not that I don't trust you. 

Free Advice Friday

Tonight's Free Advice:

Sometimes, hanging out with a smart ass is a wise choice. They'll keep you laughing and who doesn't need a good heehaw now and then?

Eeyore 💖

The Best Laid Plans

I was reminded today of something. Motherhood is not easy. I would venture to say the same about fatherhood. Being a parent, from my view, is one of the greatest things to ever happen in my life but it wasn't and isn't always easy.

When Bob and I first found out we were going to have a baby, we both were absolutely giddy. I was nineteen and Bob was twenty-four. Even though we were both very young, we knew everything there was to know about parenting. No two people on the planet were smarter than we were when it came to being ready to raise a human being. And then we actually had one and quickly realized how stupid we both were. 

But, two years later, we had figured this whole parenting thing out well enough to give it another go. I mean, our first one seemed relatively happy and healthy so why not?

Having two little boys was amazing. Bob has one sister and I have three sisters so having boys was a bit unexpected and wonderful. We adored these two little monkeys. We still do. All I wanted in life was to be a wife and mother so I threw myself into motherhood with everything in me. I wanted to be perfect for my boys. I wasn't but I sure wanted to be.

I wanted ten kids and Bob wanted two so before long, number three was on the way. Funny how that happens. My dad offered to give Bob a gift certificate to a spay and neuter clinic. I think he was only half joking. Even though I was sick as a dog and hospitalized due to constant barfing with all three pregnancies, I was really happy. 

These three boys were and are my world. I loved them more than I thought possible. I still had the same goal of being the best mother to them and I still failed on the regular but I wouldn't have changed my life with them then or now. After Andrew was born, Bob said no more. We were done. Three kids was the limit.

So, we adopted our two girls because who doesn't adopt a five and ten year old when you know that you know those girls are yours and belong in your family. I cried a lot of happy tears but not as many as Mr. No More Kids. Having our girls changed the dynamic of our family in so many ways and made us better and stronger. And of course, we were experts on adopting older kids before the girls actually came home then once they arrived, we realized how stupid we both were.

Bob and I both agreed our family was complete with five kids and then God laughed and we adopted the most beautiful baby on planet earth. We didn't know we needed a sixth child, our third daughter, but God knew and once she was home, we knew it too. But that was it. We were definitely closing up shop. Six kids was our max. We had all the Hansens needed to complete our whack-a-doo family. Not to mention, I was still trying to be the perfect mother to three boys, three girls and six very unique and distinct personalities and pretty much failing on the regular. Six was positively, absolutely it.

 

And then came number seven because God knew the only way to teach me that being the perfect mother was never an actual possibility and more importantly, it was never a requirement. It was always about two things. Love and acceptance. Loving the people He brought together to form our family and not only accepting each one but accepting how they would change me year after year.

That love and acceptance part was much harder when it came to loving and accepting myself for who I was as a woman and a mother. But seven little diamonds in the rough have knocked most of my hard edges off. 

Today, I saw a young mother having a moment of struggle and it reminded me of my own struggles as a young woman. This isn't the first young mother I have tried to encourage and she won't be the last. I will always listen to them and let them know I not only hear and see them, I was them. When so many are harsh and critical towards young men and women doing their best to raise a family in an unforgiving world, I will point out everything they are doing that is good and I will try my best to convince them they are not doing it all wrong. Even when they're sure they are. Because I know that I know being the perfect mother or father is not a possibility and definitely not a requirement. Only love and acceptance and it starts with me and with you.

Happy Birthday, Maureen!!

Today is the birthday of one of my all-time favorite people in the entire world, my cousin, Maureen.

Barbara (standing) Maureen, Norman, Char, Marvin Paolini, Mickey

Anyone that has read this blog for even a minute, knows how important Maureen is to our family. She is not only one of the huge cousins group, she is also Aunt Meta and Uncle Lorin's oldest daughter. The ranch was central to all of our lives which meant Maureen was part of that equation. I can't remember a time without Maureen in it. She has always been more like a big sister to me than a cousin. She always treated me more like a sister as well. Like the time, when I was about three years old and I had a brand-new baby sister who wore cloth diapers. I remember watching my mother rinse the dirty diapers in the toilet. So, it just made sense to me, when Maureen visited, to take her brand-new pantsuit from her suitcase and rinse it in the toilet. She responded like a sister. I'm not sure how I'm still alive. 

Maureen lived with my parents for awhile. I would have been about ten years old. She and Char lived together in the backhouse in South Gate. They both wore those crazy beehive hairdos and bought matching camaros. Weirdos. I could never understand leaving the ranch to live in the city but Maureen fit right in. She's a fancy girl who loves animals. Truth be told, I worshipped both of them. They were perfect to me and they still are. 

Maureen has one daughter, my cousin Gwennie. She is going to kill me for posting this picture from her teenage weirdo years but hey, am I sorry? Not even maybe. I adore Gwennie. She is one of the best people in my life and I give her mother tons of credit for that. Maureen is not only a wonderful cousin/big sister, she is a really good mom who raised a really good human being. 

This is a picture of Maureen dancing with our cousin, Marvin at my parents fiftieth wedding anniversary. Maureen has always been so good to all of us in the family. My parents and sisters adored her as do all the family. Maureen is the person that always checked in on my parents, cooked and baked for them and later for Kelly when she was so sick. Honestly, Maureen cooks and bakes for all of us when she shows up at our houses. It's normal to have a full freezer by the time she leaves your house. This is who she is. Kind and loving and giving of herself and her time.

I love this picture. It sits on a little table in my hallway with pictures of my kids and sisters and parents. Maureen and Mickey came to Oklahoma several times to stay with us. I loved every minute of their visits and always felt so loved that they would come all that way just to see us. Another thing about Maureen that endears her to me is her love for animals. She always has a dog. Always. And where she and Larry go, the dog goes. That is an animal lover and I love her for that. She also never calls me crazy for my crazy animal obsession. I love her for that.

These are my cousins, Noelyn, Mickey and Maureen with our oldest son, Matthew. They came all the way to Annapolis for our son John's graduation from the Naval Academy. That meant the world to me. Maureen has always and I mean always treated my kids really well. Even when they were little jerks, she loved them and showed nothing but support. All my kids call her Aunt Maureen because, like I said, she's more like a sister to me.

Ok, I stole this from her FaceBook page because I just had to point something out. See that look on her face? See the hands on her hips? This means run because she is probably heading to the kitchen any minute to get the polenta stick and you don't want any part of that when she starts swinging. And for all you yuppie, sissie people who have something to say about the psychological damage of spanking.... Shaddup! I got whacked and turned out fine. Ok, maybe not the best example.

Look at these two. 💓 Maureen and Larry married a year before Bob and I. Larry loves her the way Bob loves me. This makes me love Larry because of the way he loves Maureen. It's a happy little circle.

Ok, we get it. You like each other. In the words of my kids, old people love. Gross! Speaking of kids, watch the hands, Larry. Sheesh! I might be jealous of those gams. 

Happy Birthday, Maureen!! I love you and Larry and Gwennie more than words can say and I'm so grateful you're my family.

“That doesn’t leave much time for dilly-dallying.”

I am working ridiculous hours right now, trying to finish putting my house back together, mail out more photos, buy a new car, get ready to fly to Texas for a week and make sure my chickens are well fed. All that to say, you're getting re-hash for blog dinner tonight, so take it or leave it, kids.

I decided to share this post I wrote eleven years ago for a very specific reason. I actually have friends that haven't seen The Princess Bride and it pains me. Hopefully, this will give them the gumption to get onboard and watch this classic flick.

And now, for your viewing pleasure....

I'm Not A Witch; I'm Your Wife.

Ok, let me start off by saying I am completely obsessed with the movie, The Princess Bride. There is something about the ridiculousness of it that I get. That should tell you a thing or two about me.

Here's another thing about me you probably don't want to know.The last week of February has been especially tough for me emotionally. It has been a crappy week every stinking year for the last eight years. My mom died February 28, 2002. No matter how much I think I am good to go, every year I get freaky the last week in February. Most of the time I don't even realize I am doing it until something or someone points it out to me. Of course, on top of that, my dad died four months ago. So, there you go. Butts and Ashes.

Anyway, as I have processed through the week as much as I could, missing my parents, missing my sisters, missing the old me, before I was a witch, I thought of The Princess Bride. The lines in that movie are classic sick. My kind of humor. Then I thought about my parents, also classic sick. My kind of people. So I said to myself, "Self, what better way to honor the old coots and snap out of this funk than to put some of your favorite TPB lines to pictures." Of course, what could I say but, "Wow, self....you are a genius!"

"It just so happens that your friend here is only mostly dead.

There's a big difference between mostly dead and all dead.”

"Mawwage is what bwings us togwether today....”

"This is true love... you think this happens everyday?"

"When he said, "As you wish”,

 what he really meant was, “I love you.”

So thanks Chuck and Bernie. Thanks for being an "us" so I could be a part of an "us". You taught me more than you know. I get it. I understand. Life .... marriage .... is about two imperfect people coming together in the hopes of making it through .... together. That, and embarrassing your children as often as possible. You'd be really proud to know, I am doing a bang up job on that last part. The legacy of crazy lives on.

“I'll explain, and I'll be sure to use small words so that you'll be sure to understand. You wart-hog-faced-buffoon!”

"Surrender!

You mean you wish to surrender to me?

Very well, I accept.”

"Since the invention of the kiss, there have only been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind.”

“As you wish."

"In the meantime, rest well and dream of large women.”