No more.

You know that wedded bliss I was talking about the other day. Well forget it! No more of that mushy gushy I love my big strong manly man of a man crap! Do you know what he did? Okay, so maybe I'm being overly dramatic about it but dangit, it was so not nice and he knows it. (And yes dear, I am making that face at you.)

Somehow last night we ended up laying in bed and talking about his barfing habits. See JB has had the plague since about a week after we got married. He has been coughing so hard he barfs and when that vomit contains Maker's Mark whiskey and it gets caught in your snot factory, you can guarantee it's all over but the crying. So there he was at 3am not talking to Ralph on the big white phone, oh no, he is a yeller and we ain't talking the color. I'm sure you are all assuming I ran into the bathroom to rub his back and hand him a glass of water with which to rinse his mouth... oh no. You can just mark me down for the horrible wife demerits because instead of making sure he was okay, I securely fashioned my pillow over my head in a sad attempt to block out the sound. Hey, if you have been around here long or know me you know that pre-barf gagging noise just sends me right over the edge. See?! Even typing it out is making me gag. The point is, as we were laying in bed discussing the fact that I learned something new about my amazingly wonderful and sweet husband, he starts making that.nasty.noise. Oh yes, he thinks he is soooo funny. So then I start gagging which only encourages him more.

I married a 12 year old boy.



**Note: I still love him with the fire of a thousand suns but sometimes I kind of want to punch him in the arm repeatedly until it actually hurts.

This is my life?

I keep having these moments of "Holy crap! Is this really my life?"

I am embracing the motorcycle. I've even got that whole bandanna thing down. I think I even carry it pretty darn well.

I am getting used to the local creatures that like to sneak into my home. I named the biggest "Palmetto bug" in the garage Herman. He likes to have stand-offs with me while I'm trying to get out of my car.

The back patio has become my favorite place to sit after our nightly motorcycle rides. I mean, who wouldn't love a good glass of wine with your feet up? Oh and did I mention the lack of hummingbirds mosquitoes?

JB and I are still enjoying our newlyweddedness and since I am a big mushy mushball about it, here are a few more pictures. Enjoy!











I have a few actual posts in process, I just haven't had the itch to write as of late. I'm too busy not being busy. Hang in there with me folks, I'll have something up soon.

Now that's a woman.

I walked into the room. It was dark, lit only by the meager sunlight left from the day and the glow of the IV pump next to her bed. A few family members remained scattered throughout her new room, the biggest one on the floor to accommodate for all the visitors. The only color to be found in the drab room was the vast array of plants and flowers boasting every hue of the rainbow.

The body in the bed was still but for a slow rise and fall of the blankets. A white head of hair protruded from the cocoon. I looked down on a face, swollen from the chemo and the push of fluids. Despite the constant heaves that wracked her body, she smiled and chatted. At the report of her chill, my grandfather, her husband, the father of her seven children quickly offered to crawl into her bed and help keep her warm. It produced a rolling chuckle as well as more than a fair share of teary eyes. After all these years, their love was raw, clear and deep.

Her vision had been slowly waning for years, but the latest round of chemo all but took it out completely. She could now only see the outlines of the ghosts who claimed to be family. Her swollen fingers grasping at the hands that took hers, only knowing who was speaking by their voice. A cool washrag for her forehead to help with the nausea and a warm one to wipe away the evidence of her stomach's refusal to contain her few sips of juice.

Her sweet, caring eyes met mine boasting years of laughter, sadness and love. Not even the years of degeneration and the latest round of chemo could stop that. Her fingers slowly curled around mine. I turned my head to blink away the tears that were filling my eyes. She was tired now but she managed to give me precise instructions on how to care for my new fern back home. Always the gardener, ever the grandmother. It was getting late and what she needed was rest. Leaving her in the care of the nurses, we all headed home to eat a dinner that had traces of her throughout. I couldn't help but enjoy the thought that despite her confinement to a hospital bed, she was still loving and feeding her family. We passed around the corn and squash she had frozen last summer. We munched on cookies she had frozen months ago. Despite her absence, she was everywhere; our hearts, our minds and as always, in our bellies.

Before leaving town the next day, a final trip to the hospital this time for some one on one with the matriarch. A tray of food sat untouched and neglected in the corner. The only thing of interest a single cup of plain tea. Raising the straw to her peeling lips, she sipped and I prayed - please let this be a sign of healing. Chatting and holding her hand we discussed her current condition, this time her lifetime as a nurse peeking through her words, showing an understanding of her condition. We smiled and laughed at the conversations in the hallway. I was soaking up her presence as if I were a flower in the desert and her wisdom sweet, cool rain. Before long it was time to go. Little did I know the kiss on her cheek would be the last I give to her.



I stood in the hallway outside the sanctuary not yet ready to see more than the beautiful sprays of color beside her casket. It still didn't seem real. She was gone. I felt guilty as I already missed the hand-made washcloths, the jars of apple butter collecting dust, her birthday cake on Christmas Eve. My grandfather's voice broke the silence a few rows up... even in death he was struck by her beauty and just as in love with her as the day they met. One by one we made our way to her side to say goodbye. Her grandsons slowly and carefully placed her in the back of the black van, the honor and pain of their duty soaking their ties.

Many hearts were broken the day she died. Many hearts were filled in the days preceding.

Born December 24, 1927 - Called to the Lord April 28, 2010

Seven children, fifteen grandchildren, 12 and counting great-grandchildren and a countless number of lives touched by this woman.

It is now up to us to keep her memory alive. To tell the next generation of the love and kindness of one woman.




I miss you Grandma, from here to eternity.