Maybe All This Explains The Pain In My Head And The Ache In My Side And The Hope That Just Won't Die

A random selection of this year's posts makes me laugh, wonder, and shake my head in disbelief. What was I thinking? Click on the big and bold words if you have nothing better to do... just don't hold it against me.

My husband thought I was ugly in the beginning of the year.
My brother was in the beginning stages of his weight loss journey.
And my big boy freely admitted he loved me.

I was searching for hope

While re-emphasizing we had no need for Cialis 

And pondering the possibility of mail-order husbands.

Strawberry Daiquiri's.
Lessons From A Clothesline.
Making Teenagers Groan.

I became my alter ego.
Watched my other half drown his sorrows in lights.
And became entirely self-absorbed.

Wonder what the next year will bring?
Thanks for reading along with me.
Happy New Year.  =)



Priorities

Things that make me laugh:
My husband. My kids.
And thirty-some hits within three minutes of posting a blog entry entitled Hot Booties?

Things that make me cry:
My husband. My kids.
And reading what my dad writes in the cards that he sends.

Things that make me thankful for the life I've been given:
All of the above. All of the below.
And everything else that comes in between.



The last time this group sat together.

My mom. My daughter. My grandma and me.

My present, future, and past... in that particular order.



Hot Booties?

That was the first thing I heard when I turned the television on this morning. Have you seen that infomercial? They're slippers that you heat in the microwave... not an actual booty that is considered hot. Yeah. I think I'll move on, too.

The middle had me up early on this chilly morning to drive him over to a friend's house to do his new favorite thing: longboarding. Ever since the FedEx man dropped his Christmas present off early last Saturday, the boy has turned into a faithful weather watcher and a man with a mission. He's also had his first run-in with the law. While out Monday on his board, he crossed over the street to get out of the way of the only car on the road. The local po-po were hanging out on a street corner when one decided to holler out, Hey you with the long hair. Get over here.

And if you've read this blog long enough or know me at all, then you know the husband has law enforcement experience and the highest respect for the men- and women- who stand in those shoes. This particular instance, however, just had us both wondering if the man had nothing better to do.

Anyway, the middle looks around, discerns that he is the only person around (long hair or not), and makes his way over to the officer.  The guy asks him who he is, where he is going, and why he is out in the first place (at this point the husband interjected Probable Cause?). So the middle answers with his name, where he is headed, and why he is out. A car pulls up with a girl behind the wheel which momentarily distracts the officer. Thinking he is free to go, the middle starts to take off.

Not so fast.

The officer yells at him to come back, lectures him on the rules of the road, writes him a citation (which basically boiled down to a warning), and sends him on his way. The middle, wondering if he would still like to pursue a career in criminal justice, continues on his journey to visit a friend's house. We just happened to be standing outside later when he came whizzing back down the road and into the driveway. The first thing he did was pull out a folded blue paper from his pocket, tell us his story, and ask Can I hang it on my wall?

The things that make a kid proud.
The things that make a husband grumble.
The things I get to write about. =)

The Year Of Me

Say what you will, but this year brought a strange twist to the traditional passing out of the presents. After Santa, aka the youngest, handed out the last gift, a strange hush fell over the room. Mom! Look at all your presents! I looked down, then looked around. Indeed, I was surrounded by gifts galore (at least by my standards). The others had some, too, but mine outnumbered them all.

I like to call it

The Year Of Mom,

And it's about time.



Random Note: If you look past me to the oldest, you'll see him gazing in wonder at that crazy black cat of ours.





And the fact that most of the presents were from the husband and included such practical things like new glasses for the kitchen, fuzzy socks to keep my feet warm, and a gift box full of silky underwear (seriously) did not diminish the excitement of my bigger-than-the-rest pile.

Besides, he also got me perfume called Rebel Chic and Luv-A-Licious.

To quote a friend of mine, Stand back, girls. He's all mine.

The Year Of Mom. The Year of The Wife.

It's all good in my book.

FedEx Brings Christmas Early

The barbecue is going in the slow cooker and I've got yeast rolls ready to set out. One kid is happily doing dangerous tricks and twists and turns on some steep hill (near a lake, no less) on his pre-Christmas gift of a custom made longboard (It's a longboard, Mom. Not a skateboard). The cheery FedEx man delivered the box just hours ago and the husband and I just looked at each other and at the big, obvious looking box sitting in the middle of the living room floor. Let him have it, the man of the house said. It's suppose to rain tomorrow. Pocket knife in hand, the boy took in a deep breath and commenced to opening the sealed package with great care. Father and son admired the handiwork together and out the door the boy went, long hair and all. Life is be pretty sweet when you're fifteen.

The girl came in, looked at the box, and sighed heavily. Again, the husband and I looked at each other. What the heck, I said. I picked up my phone and called a number that I have been saving. In the next room, we heard a phone ringing. I asked her to get her dad's phone and she gave me the look that says a million impatient things in one glaring glance. She did what she was told, though, and emerged from the room holding her dad's (old) phone and a smile on her face. She's a sharp one, that girl. I shut my phone in mock frustration and told her she really needed to get her voicemail set up. She's roaming the house now singing a Travis Tritt tune of "It's A Great Day To Be Alive." Life is pretty sweet when you're thirteen.

As for the other child, he is still sound asleep. There are no big surprises for him this year, but at this point in his life, he's pretty clear about his Christmas wishes. He would prefer no gifts at all (seriously), but he'll take the cash if you offer it. Gas. Insurance. Oil changes. His own phone bill. Dates with his girl. For the first time this year, he went out and bought a few gifts for other people. It's amazing to watch his attitude and outlook on life change now that he's a working man. He's on that threshold of breaking completely free and yet still having us hold the reins on him. One day he mentioned that the whole grown-up thing is a little bit scary. Yes, it is, Son. Nonetheless, life is still pretty sweet when you're eighteen.

So here we all sit on this beautiful day of Christmas Eve.

The still-singing youngest is filling up her contact list.
The wind-blown middle just walked in to affirm the wonders of his new board.
And the sleeping oldest has just been told by his off-and-on napping dad to get up.

It is indeed a great day to be alive.

Merry Christmas!

Where Does The Time Go?



Kindergarten



12th Grade

 

Santa Claus And Me



age 4




age 5




age 6




age 7




age 8




And that's the last picture I have. Maybe it was the year after this one that my older brother told me that dirty little lie that Santa wasn't real. Sheesh. I would've liked to have seen more stylish outfits from the 70s (and I do believe each one was handmade by my mom). Cool bowl haircut, huh?





Watching Charlie Brown On A Friday Night

As if my earlier musings weren't enough, I sit here now still dazed and confused.

Confused by friends who don't return calls.
Confused by young people who bicker over hamburgers.
Confused by Lucy who doesn't understand the importance of Linus's security blanket.

I think it's the date that's throwing me off. This is the first time in a couple of years that we don't already have the van packed with suitcases and presents and snacks for the holiday trip home. Our Thanksgiving trip cancelled out the Christmas one. I knew this was coming and have no regrets over that blessed, peaceful month of November, but feel a little bit bummed nonetheless. And I know I rambled on in an earlier post about the real meaning of Christmas and have no intention of backtracking now... still, the emptiness under our tree can be a tad bit depressing.

And the tree itself is dreadfully dried out. Not from a lack of water; just from a lack of restraint on the husband's part when it comes to our fireplace. That man loves a roasting fire no matter what the temperature is outside. Now we're faced with the dilemma of pulling the tree or replacing it the week before Christmas. I would be all for packing the whole thing in, but we are entertaining members of his family on Christmas Eve. I have a feeling he will have a fresh one in its place before this weekend is over. Oh well. Live and learn (and yes, I will be hiding the matches this time around).

Okay, okay. I also burned the last batch of Christmas goodies I was baking yesterday and the pan of peanut butter fudge I made is still in the fridge waiting to be cut. I kinda ran out of steam, I guess. Plus, the hot water handle on the kitchen sink went kerplunk and the dishwasher has not worked since I don't know when, so I'm faced with washing dishes in cold water, washing them in the bathtub, or not washing them at all. I gave George Jones entirely too much attention yesterday while I was in the kitchen and got to missing my dad. Then there's my mom. Same old story.

So maybe I'm just in a mood. Is it bad that the main highlight of my week was watching the Falcons smoke the Jaguars last night? Oh, it hasn't been all bad, I know, and I'm probably being a bit too dramatic here. I do have a few gifts I can wrap to liven up the tree (dead or not) and my family doesn't mind picking out the burnt pieces of chex mix. I just wish people would call back like they say they will, kids would all get along regardless of whose burger it is, and Lucy would leave Linus and his blanket alone.

And people do make me laugh around here.
God most definitely has a sense of humor.

Really?

From my front porch seat today, I have read stories about

(click on links to read):

parents locking lips with their teenagers for fun;
the danger (?) a Tim Tebow Superbowl win could bring to the non-Christian world;
and controversial pictures of tiny hands and feet.

I am disgusted, confused, and amazed (and yes, in that particular order).
I really can't think of anything else to say.

Except the weather is beautiful from where I sit.
I would never kiss my child like that whether in public or private, joke or not.
I seriously doubt a Superbowl win by the Denver Broncos would incite Christian rioting.

And I wish I had pictures of tiny hands and feet of our lost baby.

I like to read news stories from a variety of sites;

 all three of these were found on The Blaze.

And for my own reasons, comments for this entry have been disabled.

See you next time!

Putting The Merry Back In Christmas

The following was a post by a local radio station on facebook.

This is supposed to be the most wonderful time of time of the year,

 but for some it is not. What are you doing to truly enjoy the Christmas season?

Well, let's see.

First, I'm being honest about things. Being tight on Christmas funds is nothing new for us, but this year is notably different. I refuse to spend an unemployment check on gifts (besides, seeing as how I just put fifty bucks worth of gasoline in my vehicle and the water bill is due, there wouldn't be a whole lot of fun money left anyway). What we will spend will come out of our savings and, no news flash here, I will not drain that account to appease anybody. Thankfully, I'm in luck. My parents love anything to do with our kids, our kids love anything we give them, and my husband loves me. I can count on one hand the others I have already bought a gift for and the rest of the clan (neighbors, acquaintances, and such) will get some homemade goodies straight from my kitchen.

Second, I am surrounded by Christmas cheer. Remember that post about the husband's new found purpose to decorate? Well, he didn't complete everything he had on that original list, but our home is very festive nonetheless. You can't help but hum a little tune of Jingle Bells when you walk through the front door. Plus, last week I fixed a ham for supper one night and just for kicks pulled out the good china. Nothing says good mood like eating what feels like a fancy dinner on an ordinary week night. Today I used that leftover ham and fixed a soup that my husband deemed grandpa worthy (older-than-dirt family recipe) and let my girl whip up some chocolate-covered pretzels. Nothing says Christmas more than sweet and salty snacks.

Finally, and I guess this is the most obvious, I think about why we have this season anyway. I can never think of Christmas without thinking of Easter and how a baby in a manger ended up a man on a cross. December will come and go, gifts received will eventually become nothing more than memories, and sooner or later we will all have our fill of fudge and frosted cookies. We will continue to pay too much for gas and try to cut back on the water bill and pray the new year brings employment. Life goes on no matter what the holiday may be. Through it all, I am comforted by what I know to be true. He is not a baby in a manger anymore and He is most definitely not a man still on a cross.

He Is My Resurrected Savior.
My Soon-To-Be Coming King.
The Only Reason For The Season.

And in Him I find enjoyment.

A Glimpse Of Our Christmas



Our First Ever Real Tree
(I absolutely love it and may never do a fake tree again.)



Santa In His Place
(the bone is for the dog, the ornament for another cat,
 and do you see the Christmas Nail hanging in the background?)



The Stockings Were Hung
(these three have been with us since 1993 when it was just me, dad, and new baby)



By The Front Door
(a candle holder the oldest made in kindergarten, a dollar store manger scene,
 and an empty looking mailbox of Christmas cards...
 doesn't anyone mail cards anymore?)



Our Front Porch
(and my prized childhood sled underneath the tree)



Flowers In Bloom All Year Long
(a favorite of mine of living where we live, no matter what the holiday)

24 Days Till My Birthday!

December. December. December.
How did it become December so quickly?
The last time I checked, November was just beginning.

But here we are, the sixth already. The kids just have this week and next to finish up before the highlight of every school year (other than Spring Break and the Last Day, of course)... Christmas Vacation. All I can think is, How in the world am I going to entertain them for two solid weeks?

And at this they chuckle.
No need to entertain us, Mom.
Just keep the fridge stocked and the electricity on.

We've been enjoying some beautiful 70-ish degree weather around here. The windows have been opened, the short sleeves on, and the flip flops still getting plenty of use. My hometown back west got its first snow today. Do I miss it? Not a chance. Sweet tea and warm weather keeps me happy.

The Christmas decorating around our house has come to a blessed halt. The husband never did get that manger scene up or his personal message to the President made, and Santa Claus is still awaiting his stuffing, but other than that, all decorating came to a grinding halt last Friday for the birthday party of the oldest.

I have never been so glad to have people over.
One day of faster-than-lightning cleaning and hauling boxes to the attic.
Now that's how we get things wrapped up around this house.

I started my next-to-last class this week. Hallelujah. Come April 3, 2012, that nifty piece of paper with my name on it will be all mine. Thank goodness they don't hold 'em hostage until the student loans are paid. I may never get the chance to gaze upon it if that were the case. Oh... student loans.

I'll think about that tomorrow.
And enjoy my Christmas today.
Cold weather (that's 50s for me) is on the way.

My Husband Has Purpose...

and I'm a little scared.

He's decorating for Christmas. You have to understand the severity of this situation. He's never done this before. Now don't get me wrong; he's all for the holiday season. He loves the cookies and fudge and chocolate-covered cherries that typically accompany this time of year. He loves shopping for me and the kids and will even take us for the mandatory drive-around-the-neighborhood-tour of Christmas lights.

The thing is he usually never gets involved with the decorating of the home. That job usually falls to me and the kids and the be brutally honest... just me (and in my lovely daughter's defense before she protests loudly, she decorates her own room, thank you very much). I'm always the one to want to put lights outside and even though I have often asked the man of the house for help, it ends up being just me and the oldest. Decorating is just not the husband's thing. He's got better things to do than to hang tinsel and fight with lights.

Not this year. He is a man on a mission and our house may end up being the next Griswold (think National Lampoon's Christmas movie). We've got blue icicle lights, white icicle lights, blue single strand lights, green garland, a full size tree complete with lights and decorations, a radio playing Christmas music, stockings that are hung, and plans for Mr. and Mrs. Claus chilling in a couple of rocking chairs. AND THIS IS JUST THE FRONT PORCH.

Lord have mercy.
He's not stopping there.

Plans are in the works for a Baby Jesus in a manger with a cross behind Him sitting by the driveway. Next to this he plans to install a sign that reads something like "Dear Mr. President, We Are Still A Christian Nation." He wants a star hanging high in a tree and a river of blinking lights in our (now dry) fountain. He asked me today if I thought I could find pink lights, and I'm not sure why. I asked him (while we hanging lights, of course) why this year was different. He looked at me and simply said, "Nothing else is going right. I might as well go all out."

Bless his heart.
Go all out, Babe.

Just please leave the inside to me. ;)

The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow

The weather is cold in our neck of the woods today, but like the husband says... cold for us is now any temperature where we can't have the windows open. We've had a fire going most of the day to avoid running the furnace and I'm planning on soup and grilled cheese for supper tonight. It is most definitely a stay-in-kinda-weather day. I think we might pull out some Christmas decorations tonight and if the kids play their cards right, I might treat 'em with some Hershey's hot cocoa.

My three-week visit to the Midwest ended Saturday night when I arrived home to find a very upset cat, a spilled bowl of water that was mixed with litter (some used, some not), and an empty food bowl. Mr. Kitty did not seem to understand that I was not the one who left him in that predicament, but he blamed me just the same. Time heals all wounds, though, and seeing as he is now spread across my feet lazily content, I would say he has forgiven me. Moody cat.

Our job search continues. I am putting in for some substitute work and the husband is drifting back toward law enforcement positions. Between the two of us, we have applied for five jobs in the last 24 hours. Things can get kind of snippy when you have two people who are tired of filling out the same information over and over again. Yesterday was the 19th anniversary of our first date, but I don't think either one of us really cared. We'll celebrate when we get through this.

And get through this, we will.

Thank God for savings.
Thank God for a working fireplace.
Thank God for a happy cat.

Please Tell Me That Bathroom Is Vacant

Seven people dancing around one bathroom certainly makes for one interesting Thanksgiving week. We're all about family closeness around here. The husband and kids arrived without incident Saturday afternoon and since then we have been spending quality family time together. We've shared space on the couch watching hours of satellite television, have made multiple circles driving around town noting how not much has changed, and have pretty much shattered what was the perfect order of my parents' home. I'm glad I had those two weeks alone with them because since the arrival of my little family, I don't think I've had more than five minutes of conversation with my mom or dad. I guess things are just as they should be.

Following the wishes of the parents, the husband began ripping out carpet today in preparation for laying tile in the master bathroom. He also pulled out the tub and toilet. Tub? Not so much a problem. Toilet? Could get interesting. Today has been Day One and I have found myself already dancing a jig or two waiting for the other bathroom to flash the vacancy sign. The kids and all their hair and hair products have done a good job (thus far) of being quick in and quick out. The completion date is set for Friday with Thursday being dedicated to turkey and hopefully a pecan pie. Nothing makes me more thankful than a warm piece of pie and hot cup of coffee (although the sight of that new toilet being installed might make me cry in relief).

I miss my bed and I miss my cat, but those feelings are always mixed with what I know will follow... I hate saying goodbye. That moment when I hug my mom quick (cause we both can't stand it) and I hug my dad longer (cause we both hate to let go) are just horrible, plain and simple. It typically takes me about ten miles of crying silently while my husband pats my knee compassionately to suck it up and play the part of the big girl. It is what it is. Life goes on and God has a plan. And yes, I will continue to repeat that until Jesus comes back. I have a feeling it will take until then to fully comprehend what all this has been about.

As for now? The parents are tucked into bed with the youngest close by while the middle waits for me to vacate the room he is sleeping in. The husband and the oldest are totally engrossed in some show they will long for when we make it back to antenna television only. And me? I better hit that shower while I have the chance.

The little things we become thankful for.  =)

Mama Needs To Go Home

Does my family miss me? It's a toss-up. I know (according to the woes and complaints I have heard) that they miss my awesome cooking and laundry skills and my expertise in keeping a litter box clean and my oh-so-efficient method of getting in and out of a grocery store in record time while managing to get everyone picked up and delivered to wherever it is they need to be. But do they miss me? I tend to think not so much when late night conversations on the webcam go something like this...

Me, checking the clock: You kids better be getting ready for bed. It's after ten there and it's a school night. Two kids, giving each other a slight grin: Nah, Dad pretty much lets us stay up as long as we want.

Me, talking to the husband later: So the kids are telling me you're always outside and they stay up as late as they want to. Husband, laughing (the laugh that says "oh crap"): No. I make them shut everything down by midnight. I make them clean the house. It's okay. We're all good.

Yeah. I think it's about time for me to get home.
They are all simply getting along too well without me.

Do You Hear What I Hear?

In the blink of an eye, I had a prayer answered. In fact, it came so quick and so unexpected, it sort of caught me off guard. It's personal and all and nothing I really care to share, and yet I did have to share that part of it (if that makes any sense). Sometimes the Lord just catches me by surprise. It's as if He grabs a hold of my heart and gently taps my head with a 2x4 or something: See? I really do listen to you. My timing, girl. My timing. And believe me, He knows that if He wants to get anything done in my life, then He has to get me out of the way. I tend to step in too much. I'm kinda pushy like that.

So my visit home continues while the Lord works on my behalf.
We make a pretty good team, He and I (as long as I let Him lead).

My Daughter Misses Me =)

My girl sighed heavily as she hung up the phone. Okay, Mom. Back to laundry. The dryer just finished. Heavy, heavy sigh. Before that she had spent forty-five minutes giving me recap of the day that included everything from cheesy Highlights jokes and the supper of hamburgers to the impromptu gun lesson they all received from their dad and the vision of a mysterious image found in the trees. She's learned how to run the new washing machine and the dad has plans of a major house cleaning in the morning.


Personally, I think they're having a great time.


She tells me I've never written a blog all about her. Silly, silly girl. Let's have a quick review. There's the most recent one dedicated to her birthday; an early one all about her sweetness; and who knows how many other ones in between. Besides, my dear daughter, I could never fully capture my fondness for you in one simple blog entry. And you do have brothers, you know. A mom has to spread the love around. My life is pretty full. I really could not ask for more.


Except the job thing. Yeah, that's still there.


But this is the now, and the now is pretty good. My dad and I finally got around to that target shooting today and after he showed me up with his two bulls-eye hits, he gave me a hug that made me feel like a kid again. We visited with an aunt and uncle, ran errands around town, and just generally had a good time. Mom and I have plans for tomorrow and time is ticking away. I remember a time twenty some years ago when I couldn't wait to leave home and do things on my own. Funny how doing things on my own brought me right back here.


So to my oldest who sometimes spends his evenings reading my blog so he can ask me questions about it all later;  to my middle who most likely never reads this stuff, but to whom his brother or sister may give a report to at a later time; to my youngest who will most definitely read this to see if I mentioned her at all like I said I would... I sure do miss you. Thanks for helping your dad and doing what needs to be done. And to my husband who often says he should read this, but never gets around to it, I most definitely miss you. Thank you for giving me this time.


And that's followed by a heavy, heavy sigh from me.

Somebody Swapped My Itinerary

Since last Saturday morning, I have...

Endured two separate flights departing from two separate states that only bounced my head off the side of the plane once, felt a little shaky more than a few times due to high winds, and were blissfully baby-free (and I love babies, just not crying ones in enclosed places where I have no place to hide).

Talked to my youngest probably more than I have all year, or at least since the summer when the kids were the ones away visiting. I also just received a compliment from my husband earlier tonight that went something like, I don't know how you do this (referring to the kids and the grocery shopping and the laundry and everything else that needs to get done on any given day).

Shopped with my dad for a deer tag and a bright orange vest and how-to booklets and anything else he could think of for a much anticipated deer hunting weekend. We also bought shells (as in shot-gun) and practice targets for a little friendly competition before some unfortunate deer becomes his primary target.

Made a 911 call that same afternoon (that had nothing to do with the aforementioned friendly competition and everything to do with his uncooperative heart) and spent the next six hours sitting in a freezing cold emergency room. My mom and I have made daily trips since that day to the hospital to visit my dad. He is doing well, thanks for asking.

Passed the time in the hospital by crocheting a new scarf, eating no-so-bad cafeteria food (they even have a coffee shop!), and learning interesting stories about my dad's side of the family: Pony Express riders, links to Jesse James, and a whole series of Are you kidding me? type stuff. I have also been entertained by memories of my parent's first years together. The proposal alone could be a blog entry all on its own.

Yep, you just never know what a day or week might bring.
So far this trip has been far from boring.
I am so glad I am here.

Miss you Oldest, Middle, Youngest, HUSBAND.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder.
And my heart's pretty fond. =)

Off We Go Into The Wild Blue Yonder!

I hate flying. My husband finds this hilarious because I was in the Air Force. So? I tell him. Being in the Air Force has nothing to do with a love of planes. It has everything to do with your big brother telling you that's the direction you ought to go. Sheesh. I thought everybody knew that.

But fly I must if I want to get home. And home is where I want to get. My other home. The home where my mom is. And my dad, too. They're making the trek to the big city to pick me up so the least I can do is drag my fly-fearing, plane-dreading self to that airport and make my way onboard.

My bag is packed.
The cupboards are stocked.
I just wish I had a tranquilizer.

Wake me up when we get there, please.

Worth A Second Look

I was thinking today that if my step-grandpa was still living, he would have been 100 years old. November 2, 1911 ~ November 2, 2011. My husband and I reminiscenced and laughed about our memories of him and I remembered this entry I wrote a while back. Maybe you've read it before; maybe you haven't. He was a man worth knowing, though.

http://ifmylifewereabookramblings.blogspot.com/2011/01/for-gene.html

Dear Kids,

I am done.

I am walking away from the dishes and the laundry and the ever-meowing cat. You may feel neglected. You might feel abandoned. You will most likely have an array of mass-confusing thoughts.

It will be okay. Do your chores. Try to smile at one another. Tell your dad I've gone AWOL. I promise the sun will still shine tomorrow. Life has a way of moving on even when the mom is not cooking dinner.

I'm going into that dark place with the help of liquid gold in a bottle. To be honest, I don't know when you'll see or hear from me again. I'm afraid you'll just have to be patient.

And bring me chicken noodle soup around six o'clock.
Orange juice with a straw (the flexi kind) would be nice.
A homemade card with a poem might cheer me up.

Anything to make a mom feel better.
Just leave me in peace.
And save your questions for later.

Now leave me alone.

I mean,  I love you dearly.

Hugs and kisses,
Mom

Can I Bedazzle A Broomstick?

So apparently I am going to be a witch on Halloween... kinda funny considering I have never really been one to do anything on this particular day, much less let my kids wear masks and terrorize the neighborhood. It's either this southern air or old age, I can't decide which. Last year I startled my three young-uns by actually carving a pumpkin. Re-reading that entry from almost a year ago made me laugh to myself. It's funny how things can change. It looks like this year everyone is getting involved with the exception of the husband.

Just tonight the oldest purchased himself some kind of freaky mask (and no, I didn't even ask to see it... the boy is old enough to drive, old enough to work, old enough to buy his own Halloween goodies... he doesn't need his mom shaking her head in disgust which is something I would most likely do). Anyway, he did his thing at a local trunk-or-treat event. On Monday night the middle will be doing his thing as well, although I think he's playing it safe and holy as a disciple of Jesus. The youngest and I will be joining some friends to participate in another trunk-or-treat event and then... (are you ready for this, Mom?)... we are taking her trick-or-treating.

That girl is certain I have lost my mind.
But she's willing to risk my sanity for the sake of a plastic pumpkin full of candy.
Ahhh... the devotion and love of a thirteen-year old.

So a witch I will be. I can't decide if I want to bedazzle my hat with gemstones or cover it with flowers and feathers. I mean, come on... this is a pretty big deal around the old homestead. Such a thing might not happen again. If I'm gonna dress up like a witch, I want to be a memorable one. No green faces or funky warts for me. We want to make this one count.

Pictures For My Mom

Sometimes I like to take pictures for my mom just because I know she will like it. Lucky for you (or not, depending on your perspective) you get to see them, too. You should know, however, that everything you see is a direct result of my mom's influence on me.

Although the one of cat she'll gladly give credit to my dad. And the last one with the fire pit? Well, she may not be too keen on hanging out there, but I know she'll love the chairs.

Sure do love and miss you, Mom and Dad.



Anybody Want A Cat? (just don't tell my daughter)

I've got a cat who won't stay out of the bathtub, a couch full of laundry to fold, and a heart that is heavy. Not a great way to start a Tuesday, but a Tuesday that has been started nonetheless.

Our little cat thinks she's a dog. She plays fetch, acts like she wants to drink out of the toilet, and torments the bigger cat day and night. Even as I write this, those two are chasing each other around the recliner and bouncing off the walls. They are driving me nuts.

Laundry is just laundry. I got a late start on it yesterday and will be paying that price today. Anytime I want to grumble too much, though, I just remind myself that at least I'm not beating our clothes against a rock by the creek. I love my Downey fresh clothes.

And as far as my heavy heart, I'll just leave it at that. Only the Lord knows, and only He can do anything about it. I am really growing weary of this making me stronger stuff.

Please Tell Me You Can Relate

I've been thinking about my friends back home. It seems our communication is becoming less and less. I wonder if that is normal... I suppose it's just a good reminder that life goes on. I know several of them keep up with this blog so I know they know what's going in my world; I just miss knowing what's going on in their world. Does that make me nosy? I don't think so. I just genuinely miss my friends.

Life does go on. I spent a little part of today walking with a friend that I would have never known if we had not moved. Believe me, I would be missing out (and just because I think she reads this blog sometimes in no way implies that I am kissing up). Ha! It's just good to know that when a chapter closes on one portion of our life, another one is waiting to be started.

I guess I'm in a sappy sort of mood, you could say. Today while sitting in church in a pew behind our kids, I watched as one of them discreetly slipped their hand into a wallet to contribute to the offering plate (or bag, in this case). That random act tugged at my heart a little bit. I've always said that if I get nothing else right in this world, I want our kids to honor the Lord in all that they do. It's a tough road out there.

And then there was supper tonight. May I say it was awesome? I grilled out, loaded the table with good stuff, and then just basked in the compliments afterward. Yeah. I'm shameless like that. I'm also an easy one to figure out. Shower the mom with praise and she'll offer to do the dishes. Walking into a clean house doesn't hurt either. Remember, I'm not opposed to the occasional bribe.

I hear the clinking of weights in the next room and the sound of brothers talking. How short our days are becoming! The older they get, the more I'm reminded of how this particular chapter in the life of our family will quickly transition into something else. And then there's our girl. My, oh my. My little girl trying so hard to grow up... makes me want to grab the kleenex even as I write.

So, yes... it is indeed a sappy kind of night.
Nothing is bad, nothing is wrong.
In a way everything is just right.

And that makes me want to smile and cry all at the same time.

Where I Live...

We have fairs in the fall.

State fairs. County fairs. Any good excuse for a fair.

Like anywhere else, there's overpriced food...

...that is impossible to pass up.

And there's the games that are almost impossible to win.

All kinds of trinkets to woo the money of the young and old.

Yep. We spent too much money on admission and tickets and those pesky funnel cakes, but boy, did we have a good time. Some things in life are just worth that extra buck.



Better Than A Pin-Up Girl

Sometimes it doesn't take much to make me laugh. While watching tv this evening (a whole hour of The Rifleman) I looked over at my husband stretched out in his recliner. He was holding a book sideways with an intense look on his face that was a mixture of both joy and anticipation. It reminded me of what a man might look like if he was checking out the latest centerfold or something... only what he was holding was no bunny-of-the-month club issue. It was a Ford manual with detailed schematics and other fun stuff for his old truck.

Yep, we might be kinda boring around here, but at least we keep it clean. =)

A Rite Of Passage

Today was a sad day for the oldest. After supper, we sat at the table together, just him and me. The weight of the world was on his shoulders. He sighed heavily. He dug in his pockets. He sighed once more... then he handed it over. His first insurance payment for his truck. Happy day for me. Sad day for him. Do you know what all I could do with that money? he asked. Only all too well, was my response. Now don't get me wrong, his attitude was awesome. He knew this day was coming and even had it marked on the calendar. I had told him he could break it up through the month, but as he said, One way or the other, it's still gonna be the same amount. So he relinquished the funds to be applied to our insurance bill and then started talking about taxes. He showed me his pay stub and asked if everything looked all right.

Yep, I assured him. Welcome to the working man's world.

Apparently him and his brother (that would be the middle) have been solving our nation's debt problem while sitting in the drive-thru line. They did some quick calculations based on the tax they were being charged on their dollar menu burgers, multiplied that by the people living in our country, and determined that even if everyone only purchased dollar menu stuff on a daily basis, that should still be enough to run the country. Now I hope you're not grabbing a note pad and a calculator to de-bunk their theory... the fact they were even thinking that way made me laugh. They are so their dad. We swapped a little tax trivia regarding the early years of America, discussed typical household bills, and reminded the youngest once again why she's not getting a cell phone.

He left to help the middle wash the dishes. The youngest left to feed the dog. And I was left with his money feeling half-guilty for taking it and half-relieved for having it, but I also felt a twinge of pride in there. Pride for a boy who's not a boy anymore. He's learning how to hold down a job, budget his money, and pay his own way. He appreciates help when it's available, but doesn't expect it. He understands that sometimes walking out of Radio Shack empty-handed is necessary if he wants to have gas money at the end of the week (and believe me, the boy loves Radio Shack). He's learning... even if it is a little sad at times.

Nobody likes to say goodbye to their cash.

About That Last Post...

After receiving a few questions pertaining to the arrival of our surprise weekend guest, I thought I would address the matter in a simple and direct fashion:

We have heard both sides and neither side is pretty.
She is going back to her own home today.
And I don't think we've seen the last of her.

God's got a plan and I've got laundry to do.

Happy Monday! =)

If You Can Figure This One Out, Feel Free To Let Me Know

So.... say you're sixteen and have a fight with your mom and dad. The end result is the stunning declaration that you are no longer welcome in the home (although maybe not so stunning because this is not the first time). You spend the evening working your after-school job not knowing where you will sleep. Even though you've been through this before, you don't know what you'll do.  And I say again... you're sixteen.

I just don't get it. I know I went a few rounds with my own parents back in the day. I'm sure I upset them on more than one occasion, but I don't recall ever being told that I couldn't come home. I don't even pretend to know all the circumstances in this current situation. Everybody's got a side and a story to tell and someone to blame, but can I just reiterate again... sixteen.

And a girl at that.

We all know the world is a scary place, right? I can't imagine being without a home or not knowing where I might spend the night, and I'm a long way from sixteen. I don't know how I would react to finding myself in a strange home with a strange lady (such as myself) who pulls out faded fuzzy pajama pants and a much too big t-shirt and triumphantly produces a never-been-used toothbrush.

I don't get a lot of things in life. I am most certainly at a loss for this. My husband understands all too well; I just shake my head in disbelief. I thought for sure there was a catch to this, maybe a massive misunderstanding or words spoken in haste. The mother in me is just completely dumbfounded. Even our kids are little bit stumped on this one, but they are all very excited about one simple thing: if there's a guest in the house, then a mom making breakfast in the morning is a sure-fire thing.

And that's proof there's hope in any situation.

Banana Bread For Bed

I gotta say, I love evenings like this one. It's a little drizzly out (if that's even a word), it's been dark for a while now, and I'm already in my pajamas. We had a fend-for-yourself night for supper, but I redeemed myself by baking a couple of loaves of banana bread. I do believe that's the only reason my family likes bananas anyway... they wait for them to turn dark and mushy and for me to say, Well, if you're not going to eat those things I guess I'm going to have to bake bread. I swear it's a conspiracy.

The oldest is watching a documentary on the War of 1812. I love it when the kids watch this stuff not thinking much about it and then share later how much they remembered from it in history class or while taking a quiz or test. The best way to make a kid to learn is to not let them know they are learning. Seriously, though, history is fascinating when presented right. Speaking of which... I start the first of my three final classes next week and, joy of all joys, there is no textbook required. Whew. I'll take that book money and go buy me some new cowboy boots.

Or pay the electric bill. Rats. No boots for me.

The oldest just looked at me and smiled. Pretty fascinating, huh? I ask, referring to the television. He nods his head, totally engrossed in the story. I'm telling you...burning cities, death in the streets, savage amputations... I know he'll end his night with a video game marathon, but truth is always more fascinating than fiction. Tuesday night entertainment at its finest. And now Francis Scott Key is watching the Battle of Ft. McHenry. I might have to jump up in song. We did just hang a new flag outside today, you know. Wonder what the family would think if I told them to join me in the National Anthem.

Yeah. That would be a resounding No!
But it would be fun just to see the look on their faces.
I oughta get something for baking that bread.

Wanted: A Good Job For A Good Man

Once again I find myself sitting across the table from my husband (reminds me of this time not long ago). His pen is poised in mid-air, his brow is wrinkled as he thinks. Every now and then he sighs heavily and looks at me, trying his best to smile. I watch as he tries to think of the right words. I look up stuff on my laptop when he asks. I've made copies of diplomas and discharge papers and social security cards and anything else that might pop up. And all I can think is, Please, Lord. Let this be the one.

Have you guessed it yet?
Another job application.

He's not afraid of anything. The only thing that worries him is his age. Not gettin' any younger, he says. Maybe not, but you sure are getting better, I reply. That makes him smile for real. Is there any man that doesn't want to be the stud-kinda-hero to his wife? He's talking to a friend of his now on the phone. A good guy he wants to use as a reference. He won't write anybody's name down who he doesn't call to let them know. This is probably about the fourth time he's called this particular guy. I can almost hear the questions the other guy is asking.

How ya doing anyway?
Not too bad.
No luck with a job yet?
No, but I'm still looking.
You holding up okay, though?
Heck, yeah. I've lost weight and my blood pressure is down.

That's the truth, too. Since he got out of that cubicle, he's lost a good fifteen pounds or so and may very well be off his blood pressure meds within the next month. He's less stressed, honestly does smile more... just that absence of a steady paycheck that's the kicker.

His phone call is over.
His pen is back in hand.

Hey, honey? Find me Bob's phone number, will ya?

Please, Lord. Let this be the one.

Dear UPS Guy,

Banging on a glass door when it's dark outside and then (twice) not answering to "Who's there?" (when the windows are open so we know you can hear) is probably not the smartest thing you've done today. I mean, and this is just a FYI, only about two inches of wood and the aforementioned pane of glass separated you and what could have potentially been a very bad ending to an otherwise pleasant night. You see, that's why we have a well-lit porch and a working doorbell and a helpful peephole-thingy that let's us see someone standing directly in front of it (off to the side doesn't count). I know you're just doing your job. This is nothing against you. I love your brown truck and your brown shorts and the awesome stuff you deliver. I don't even mind when you block my driveway so you can ask me for directions on our very messed up street. I get it.

It was late tonight, though. I'm betting you were in a hurry and probably had your wife or girlfriend or mother calling you nonstop telling you dinner was on the table (I get a little impatient myself when the family is slow to gather at the table). I'm sure you didn't realize how LOUD a fist knocking on glass repeatedly might be or how unsettling it was when no one responded. Heck, you probably haven't even had the time to watch the news about home invasions or recent robberies or what was discovered floating in the river (okay... slight exaggeration on my part). You're a busy man. Anyway, the package you delivered was just what I had been waiting for all day. If my heart hadn't been pounding out of my chest watching my husband prepare to defend our home, I probably would have given you a big smile.

As Caroline Ingalls always said, "All's well that ends well."
I'll make sure to bake you an extra batch of cookies for Christmas.
And give you some doorbell-ringing lessons as an added bonus.

H + A = 4ever

At least it better.
I have no desire to start over again.
Someone else might make me work.

My BFF comes back today. Thank the Lord. Two weeks gone is two weeks too long and no... I really don't care if you think I'm too needy or too dependent or too whatever. The only downside, however, is that now I have to restock the fridge. The kids and I have survived on few necessities: milk, cereal, toaster strudels, and gatorade.... that a whole lot of dollar menu fast food. Oh well. All good things must come to an end. I'm gonna straighten the house, make a pitcher of sweet tea, and head to the grocery store.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

That was this morning and I pretty much accomplished everything except for the pitcher of sweet tea. He'll survive, though... it's all good as long as there's Coca-Cola in the house. I'm also thinking that it's a good sign that after almost nineteen years of being with the same man, I still felt the need to change my outfit a total of five times, curl my hair no less than three times, and have been in full make-up since around two o'clock. Every time a truck goes by my drive-way, I jump up to see if it's him.

And he just called.
Twenty minutes out.
That gives me time for one more outfit change.

At Least My Hair's Not In Curlers

It's almost 1:30 in the afternoon and I'm still in my pajamas. Why? Because I can, I guess. Days like this don't happen that often, but my bed is not made, the dishes are not washed, and if I don't get ready soon, my kids will be subjected to the sight of their mother in her robe maneuvering the mini-van in after-school traffic. Yeah... we probably want to avoid that kind of trauma.

The culprit for the state of mind I am in would be a very good book and very boring schoolwork. The book demanded to be finished and the schoolwork had to be done. Then there's my back porch with the comfy lounge chair and the sound of trickling water and two lazy cats enjoying the breeze. It's hard to be motivated when you're surrounded by so much laziness.

I mean, come on... it's not like I sleep late and watch soap operas (much) and indulge in bon-bons on a daily basis. I write and read and write some more. I drink coffee and sip root beer and eat left-over pizza. I pull weeds and play with the dog and stare at the neighbors. If you saw me now, though, you would definitely be thinking to yourself, "What a bum." Okay, okay. Today I might have to agree with that.

But don't we all need an occasional day like this?
And for the sake of my sanity, just nod your head and agree for once.
I promise to lose my flowery pj's before I leave the house.

This Little Light Of Mine

I sit this morning and think about the people that pop in and out of my life. There one day, gone the next. In a virtual world (and I promise I am not going to get hung up on this), it is so easy for any one person to be your friend or follower for any length of time and then suddenly disappear with zero to little explanation. The same thing can happen with friends in the real world. People simply lose track of each other. The whole thing brings to mind a verse out of Psalms (144:4):

 Man is like a breath; His days are like a passing shadow.

I remember an illustration I once gave to a junior high class. I stood in front of a group of 7/8th graders, lit a match, and blew it out. I drew their attention to the wisps of smoke that escaped from the extinguished burnt end... thick at first, but then slowly drifting and trailing away to nothing until all that was left was the faint smell of smoke in the air. I then proceeded to tell them that was a picture of their life.

Yeah. I am one ray of sunshine in the classroom.

Life is so fleeting, though, isn't it? We never know what the next turn will bring and we never fully understand why we had to make that turn to begin with. I loved my grandma like crazy, you all know that. I talk about her often and hope I never stop, but the simple fact remains that she is no longer here. Her time, her purpose, her existence on this earth came and went with the passing of eighty-nine years. She closed her eyes in this world and opened them in the next.

Oh, where would we be without that hope?

I think about my life. Am I fulfilling my role or simply going through the motions while the match stays lit, so to speak. Do I pop in and out of people's lives without making a mark, without leaving anything behind besides the smell of a burnt match? Am I easily forgettable or am I like a nagging pain in someone's head that they can't easily get rid of? Yeah, that thought makes me chuckle this early in the morning, but I have to say that I would rather be a pain than forgotten.

Wow. I do wonder where the thoughts in my head come from at times.

I want to be a good wife and mother and all that goes with that, but I also want to be a good friend and a mentor and somebody that makes you think. I want to me that person that points the way to the Lord, not because I wear a Jesus shirt or a Jesus pin or thump you over the head with my bible. I want you to know that without Him, I would be nothing. He saved me when I didn't deserve it; He led me when I wouldn't listen; and He holds my hand when I cry.

He's the light on the end of my match except His flame never goes out.

It just moves on to light the next one when my match burns out.

Kinda like passing the torch forward, huh?

How's That Working For You?

So the thought occurred to me that if I'm no longer on facebook, the access that I have to a couple of sweet little babies living far away from me will become severely limited. We just can't have that. I guess you can say I was four days clean. What can I say? I miss seeing my mom saying "Cheers" with her teacup. I miss seeing my brother holding up his now-too-big pants. And I miss catching little two-minute videos of those sweet little babies rolling over or trying to walk or just looking plain cute. Plus, my daughter said she missed seeing me on there. Enough said. I guess I'm not as done with the virtual world as I thought I was. Live and learn.

And don't post it publicly.

Making The Best Of It

Many, many miles away today was a small town autumn festival that I would have loved to attended. The oldest and I tossed around the idea of driving in for the weekend, but then (wisely) decided that a twenty-eight hour round trip was a little foolish for a forty-eight hour weekend. Plane tickets just made all of us laugh... $700 a pop per person. Flying last minute simply is not an option. Needless to say, we stayed put and pretty much enjoyed a Saturday nonetheless.

He (the oldest) had a quick lesson in using jumper cables early in the morning. His grandpa talked him through everything via their cell phones and it was quickly determined that the battery was junk. It took him a few hours, but he made the trip to the part store, got the right battery for his truck, and had it fired up and running with only a few glitches in between. It is still hard for me to believe that my firstborn is practically eighteen. He really is quite impressive.

The middle is fighting allergies that he thought he had left behind somewhere in the Midwest. That boy would suffer horribly every spring and fall without fail. He would miss school in the beginning and then again at the end. Nothing would completely help him except the passing of time. Then we moved south and those allergies disappeared. He commented today that he thought they had finally caught up with him. If anything, it's minor compared to what he had before, but still a nuisance. He's a trooper, though.

My youngest helped with a spur-of-the-moment, mini get-together tonight. We had a few friends over for a strictly female gathering and fixed things like cucumber sandwiches and little clubhouse-style bars (basically rolled out croissant dough with chicken on top). That girl and I will either have a great time together or a strained,  Mom, You Are So Weird time. I tried to dance with her to George Strait and she looked at me like I had lost my mind (although between you and me, I think she secretly loved it).

Oh, I wish I could have been walking those crowded festival streets with my mom halfway across the country today, but if I have learned anything, it's that life really is what we make of it. It does me absolutely no good to dwell on how things use to be if I can't enjoy the here and now. I really have nothing to complain about.

Except the job thing.
Yeah, I'm still waiting on that.
Somewhere there's a classroom that is waiting on me.

Please, Lord. Please and Thank You.

How To Make A Teenager Groan

While sitting around a table at a local restaurant with my three teens and talking about their day, their friends, and their pet peeves, the youngest asked why I wasn't wearing a particular black tank top under the blouse I had on (I chose a white t-shirt instead). "Because that tank top is kinda low and I didn't want to be tugging it up the whole time while sitting across from my sons and giving them a show," I replied.

She rolled her eyes a bit and the boys muttered a Thanks, Mom to which I couldn't help add (with a wink), "Now if I was sitting across the table from your dad, I would definitely be wearing that top." The table went quiet for a split second with three young mouths hanging open before they all let forth a collective groan.

"Yeah, I could have went through my entire day without that," stated the oldest.
"Gee, Mom, uh... yeah, that is not a pleasant picture," stuttered the middle.
"Really, Mom? Really?" moaned the youngest.

Apparently the thought of their dad appreciating the attributes of their mom was a little too much for them. Who knew?  =)

I Am A Former User

It's official! I have cut the facebook cord. I deactivated my profile, gave my kids a heads up that their own accounts were up for "search and seizure" at any given time, and removed that familiar blue f from my favorites tool bar. I honestly have no intention of going back. The only thing I will really miss is the ability to post these entries to facebook; I know a lot of my friends and family followed me that way. Oh well. I guess now we'll see if any of them liked me enough to track me down (and the answer there is probably not).

And like I often say, "That's that."

Facebook No More (Well... Maybe)

Here we go. The great facebook debate. To stay or not to stay. For the first time since I joined the site, I do believe I'm about done. I logged on this morning to see the status update of someone who is not on my friend list for good reason:

A). I have no clue who the person is, and
B). Vulgar language about male body parts is something I can do without.

Since facebook implemented their latest round of changes to the site, pretty much everyone is open game. It all has to do with mutual friends and status updates and comments and likes and all that, but the short of the story is, if I can view information about people that I am not personally linked to, then those same people can see mine. I have always been very particular about my friend list. I keep it at around 100 (this in a world where people have 300-500-1000! people on their list of friends). Yes, I've unfriended people who:

A). Never commented or updated anything anyway which for some reason annoys me, or
B). Used that aforementioned vulgar language about body parts or their mama or God.

I figured that was the point of having some sort of control. I immediately nixed the whole places feature that turns ordinary people into celebrities by allowing the paparazzi (aka their friend list) to follow their every move. That kind of thing is just not for me. I once "followed" a guy as he went from the library to the gym to Starbucks and finally back to his home. This is one of those guys who has friends in the 1000s and think about it, if I was following him via facebook (this was back in my farmville days... 198 days sober!), how many other people were also? He's got a beautiful home, a beautiful wife who stays home with beautiful kids, and a brand-new 52" flatscreen/LCD/HD3D (I have NO idea what I'm talking about here)... anyway, he's one of those people that will post everything about his life.

Does this make me sound like a stalker? I promise you I'm not, but with the information that some people put out there, I almost feel like one. I'm just a semi-bored housewife with no evil intention at all who just also happens to be very observant. Imagine if I really were looking to do something like steal your new tv or investigate your child custody case or raise your property taxes...

Yeah. Maybe I should go offline with facebook.
I may not have many friends left after this anyway.

My point is that there is so much information out there. Yes, I give my own pointless updates and post pointless pictures from time to time and just generally have a little fun with it all, but that control, my control, is slowly getting peeled away and I gotta tell you, I don't like it one bit. As I told one other person earlier this morning, the whole thing is starting to get a little creepy. I know there are people out there, good people, who could care less about the whole privacy issue. That's just not me. I didn't have a high security clearance for nothing, you know.

I'm a private person (who also happens to write a public blog).
Yes. I do see the irony there.

So what happens to a facebook user who leaves the arena? Is there withdrawal? You know, the farmville reference earlier was just a joke (I really haven't counted the number of days since I last plowed or harvested or whatever), but I did discover more time once I stopped.  Maybe I won't miss it at all.

Or maybe I won't go anywhere.
Are there really more changes in store?
Am I jumping ship too early?

I never had this problem in the pre-facebook world.

Seven Minute Recap...

Cause I'm killing the light at ten o'clock.

1. Woke up with a smile.
2. Waved goodbye to kids.
3. Made some coffee.
4. Read my bible.
5. Talked to my dad.
6. Got a sick call from school.
7. Picked up a girl.
8. Went to doctor.
9. Picked up more kids.
10. Made it back home.

Yeah. Pretty typical, ordinary kind of day. I'm thinking I should have just called it a day then and went to bed early because shortly after 5:30 p.m., the remote went missing and over four hours later, I still have no clue where it went. The fridge is acting up, first the freezer side and now the refrigerator side. I have no clue why.

And I still can't find my nook charger.

Is it Friday yet?

Tony's Jeans



 My old jeans from 7 months ago (from 391 lbs. to 256 lbs.).





Yes I have both legs in one leg. LOL. There is room for another person in the other leg.




So very, very happy for you, Brother. =)