Shakin' It Around A Little

Whoah! Hello. It's me! 

A crooked, gray-haired woman about to go out for a night on the town.

We went to see our friend's band at a bar housed in an old movie theater downtown. It's a really cool place. We met more friends there for a night of fun fun fun. And mixed drinks. We did not plan to do the shots but we did them nonetheless.

When the pictures started to look like this, I thought it best to go. 

We strolled as best we could around the square. Joe insisted we get a picture of the old library so here it is. He said later it did not come near his vision. Whatever. Our camera sucks. What can I say?

Yes. He was as happy as he looks.

Very, very happy indeed. 

About as happy as you can get just before you get sad. 

Good times. Good times.

They Ruin Everything With Their Weiners

Pornoriffic

I was working all this past weekend at a Bluegrass Festival. Joe originally planned to come with me but it would've been the second Friday in a row he would've taken off work for extracurricular activities with the wifey. And that would not do. He just got a raise and in this economy, we do not want to rock that boat. Someone has to pay the bills while I flit around being a school nurse and face painter.

Anyhoo. I was at the music fest and it was crawling with hot, bearded men. Literally. The heavy beard is back it seems and the weather was not only hot, it was humid.  I, myself, wilted like a hothouse flower and I wondered how long Joe would tolerate his own full beard.

I'm almost certain I've mentioned my affection for varying degrees of facial hair on men.To date, I've been influenced by Joe's George Michael-like scruff the most. And by influenced, I mean, compelled to get it on with him. You know, more so than usual. So imagine my surprise when I received a text and the picture above from my beloved. (I used his caption as the title for this post.) Yes, folks. That's a bonafide porn star mustache he's sporting. Per my request.

Life is good.

Spring has sprung.

The mustache lives on.

This Little Piggy Went To Market

-This post originated 02/22/11 but I was too lazy to find my pictures until today-

We had our wires crossed. I swear it was his manly moontime! We herked and jerked through Monday morning when we both discovered the other wasn't working. Our eyes opened, we leveled our gazes and our faces said, "What! You don't have to work today? What?"

High noon and I heard him mutter something about "....five minutes without someone calling my name...needing me..." and the camel's back split in half. I heard it. SNAP! All at once it was ON.

But I'm not like I once was. I'm older. I'm slower. I learn from every two-hundred and thirty-fifth mistake. So rather than get my feelings hurt, I got even. Getting even is not about taking revenge. It's about equilibrium. And we needed wine. And cheese. And vegetables.

So, I washed, dried and dressed the kids and went off in search of my friend April. I told Joe we were going to the Farmer's Market and not to expect us home any time soon. I did so lovingly. I swear I did.

The GPS is my new best friend. It guides me and I need guidance like nobody's business. We picked April up and headed to Atlanta. We arrived without incident and after reading all the rules and regulations, we entered the building and checked our bags. I immediately broke the rules by taking the two previous photos on my phone. It seemed a ridiculous rule to me and I readily admit to having a wee chip on my shoulder where authority is concerned.

We bought sake, wines, cheeses, oyster mushrooms, lemongrass, banana flower, olive bread, quinoa, steel-cut oats, chorizo and more. We even tasted the best bit of walnut baklava ever. There were animal hearts in buckets and a restaurant serving a lot of things that looked like vomit. And even though it did not turn out to be an open air market, we were enamored of the place and called it a raging success. 

We were back at the house around 8pm and Joe seemed genuinely happy to see us. He looked a bit sheepish when he hugged me and admitted his earlier error of words. But I, of all people, understand how hard it is to live with me and parent our children. So, I warmed the sake, made him a nice dinner and we worked it all out in the end with a bit of stupid sake sex and and a whole lot of love.

I love happy endings.

Don't you?

Splendor & Glory

Spread The Love

He outdid himself this year. 

He received a lovely (diet) Chicken Marsala for his troubles.

The Spirit Of The Spectacle

The place was packed.
There were coolers and mixers and chasers everywhere.
Folks meant they were going to party with Elvis.

(Before the end of the evening, we would see two broken chairs,
a couple of falls, some boobies and lots of old lady panties.)

I'm not even kidding.

It had a strong VFW kind of feel to it.
I'm not sure but once I thought I could smell urine. It could've been tequila.
We were not the youngest but we were in the minority, so you get my drift.

I was impressed with his signage and Joe was truly tickled by the whole affair.

See how amused he looks?

Elvis took the stage at 7:15 wearing a powder blue bedazzled jumpsuit.

The guy turns out to be about 60 years old. 

His hair is white but they spray it black for performances.

Which is why it absorbs all the light of the flash.

I can't explain the eyeliner.

I was both horrified and mystified by the whole affair.

The man sounded great. He really did have a perfect Elvis voice.

And he was in good shape for sixty. 

Joe thought he was awesome. 

He's been practicing his hip swivel, karate chop and claw fingers ever since.

I'm telling you, it was like an acid trip.

When one of our lunchroom ladies stood up and bobbled her boobies at him, I had to take my leave.

Even Joe threw his arm up in front of his face and screamed, "EASY!" when her boobies came out.

This woman had a stroke a year or so ago, I swear!

I ran off to the bathroom.

When I returned, I found a number of the ladies from our table on stage with Elvis preparing to do the Cupid Shuffle.

A Cupid shufflin' Elvis, you say?!?!?

Yes. Behold.

And then Elvis got real tired. He kept saying, "Whew" and mopping his brow with scarves. Someone asked why Elvis was so tired and someone else screamed out, "Well, Hell! He's dead, ain't he?" So they sat this old Elvis guy down and brought out a huge birthday cake with candles. The real deal would have celebrated his 76th birthday on the 8th had he not had that unfortunate turn of events on the toilet. Elvis would be your grandpa now! Our old Elvis guy took it in stride, blew out the candles and helped serve cake to the crowd. Then he went on and on and on with the show.

To be honest with you, even Joe agreed he went on 20 minutes too long. Including the encore.

I just wanted him to finish. I might have hollered that out at the end.

And...... he...... did..... finally...... finish.

Then he left the building.

TCB

Tomorrow will mark our seventh wedding anniversary.

But tonight? 

We're taking care of business.

.

.

.

The show starts at 7.

Coincidence? 

Probably.

.

.

.

We have a table for twelve reserved.

Was this my idea?

Yes. I do love a man with veiny hands.

I Am So Glad You Were Born

Happy Birthday, Joe!

Lovey McDoverson

We are going to see an Elvis impersonator the night before our 7th wedding anniversary.
Two hour show.
BYOB.

I can't wait!

Fennel Quest

Boy, it's been a nice day! The weather has been fantastic and our moods, light and lively.

We are getting new carpeting in the playroom soon, so I took some time to work on the mural.

Joe cleaned; I painted.
We flirted. We drank beer.
It was a beautiful thing.

While I cooked our supper, Joe went to the store for Fennel, among other things.
I described it's appearance and location to him, then I crossed my fingers.
He came home with new golf pants, fennel and a 23 lb. bag o' tater tots.
I exaggerate the poundage. It's only a 5 lb. bag.

When pressed, he opened up about his trip to the supermarket. He stopped and bought pants on the way. The pants were on sale at a place called Dick's so he could not resist. At the grocery, he located the vegetable in question but it was labeled as Anise. He faltered and asked the produce guy who informed him it was the same thing. It IS but, it isn't. Seems Anise and Fennel have a identity issues. Then he went on to tell me the cashier had trouble ringing it up.

He kind of fell in love with her even though she is very young. She has a withered hand and he said that influenced his feelings. I mentioned this to my parents later and my Dad went on and on about how "wonderful and beautiful" this cashier girl is and "her poor little hand" and how he loves her too. I haven't noticed this girl in the past but I'm not surprised. My kids drive me to distraction every moment of a store visit.

She must be stronger than they think. If she hefted that gigantic bag of tots over the finish line, she's doing just fine. I think I might love her a little bit myself.

The Mystery Lives On

Like A Hawk

Swingers?

Yes. Swingers.

And it's us and you and them? All six of us?

Yes. Theoretically.

Wow.

Yes. Wow.

I am seldom knocked a windin' like my Grandma used to say. Today, I was. My coworker and friend called me in a tizzy. An absolute tizzy. She goes into a lot of tizzies so I was not immediately concerned but then she started talking sex. This woman never talks sex. (Don't think that hasn't been a barrier for us.)

She tells me the big talk around school is us! Someone let the cat out of the bag so to speak that me and the beloved enjoy swinging. That we do so with her and her husband and another couple! This has been widely believed for four years or so. Which goes a long way in explaining some of the strangest comments from the people I work with.

The person went on to try to allay my friend's horror by telling her once she got to know her and the other lady, she knew it wasn't true. "Kim, on the other hand, is a different story," she said. Great. I'm a different story. She also divulged to my friend ("if you don't already know") that I'm a witch. I know I come out of left field sometimes but a swinging witch, for heaven's sake?

It's a bit surprising, very amusing and somewhat irritating to be thought of by your coworkers in this manner. Not that I have anything against witches or swingers. I love most all the people of the world. People all over the world. Join hands. Start a love train. Love train... None of this has any bearing on anything. The reality of it is a bunch of bored women who move in packs (cliches) just as they did in high school preying on who they can.

Speaking of prey, that's a red-tailed hawk feather Joe's holding in the photo up top. We've had an ever growing family of hawks raising their families on our property for the last few years. They are fantastic looking birds and we learned they are monogamous. They mate for life.

Now. Put your keys in this bowl.
:: CACKLE ::

And Now, A Moment In Time, Forever Preserved In This Digital Format

Incoming, Brother!

DADDY! DON'T BURN YOUR HAND !!!!

The Cold & The Sensitive

Just drop it inside. Just drop it inside. Just drop it inside.

PTSD in the making.

Safety First! 

Wheeeeeeze

Don't burn your hands.

Smoke another one, Sister.

Hey...over here... in the computer.

Stop, drop and roll.

Spontaneous Emotional Combustion

Is that emphysema I hear?

Hunka Hunka Burning Love

He started to burn us.

10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1 Boom.

Why I love my family more than any other humans on earth.

Bright Sunshiny Day

As you can see, S is really enjoying himself in Pre-K. He's been in a fine mood. He's eating and resting well. He's already learning so much. He also informed me the scissors we have at home are defective because he can cut just fine with the ones at school. It seems they have lefty scissors.

I wish I could say I felt as bright and shiny but to tell you the truth, I don't. I've been battling cold symptoms and a fever for three days now. Fever is no good for me. It causes me to act in a bizarre fashion. I shiver. I cry. I profess my undying affection for people, places and things then turn on them at the drop of a hat. I also hallucinate if it goes much above 102 degrees. It's much like being belligerent and drunk. It's a real pleasure, let me tell you. At least it's hovered around 100 degrees so far this week. I'd hate to have another incident in which I throw a bag of candy and hit the Big Lots cashier in the head. Yes, I'd hate that.

But so far, I'm doing okay. I only kicked open one door in a fit of rage last night. J jumped to the rescue and insisted I go to bed to rest while he finished the bath and bedtime ritual. He also brought me Tylenol, Benadryl and a shot of whiskey. I slept like a (drugged) baby. So, here's to my fever, my son, my husband and that Big Lots cashier. And to everyone except the fever, please accept my sincerest apologies. I'll be well again soon.

Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe

Guess what? Today is mine and the beloved's Officially Unofficial Seventh Anniversary! You don't even have to ask. I'll explain. It's not our wedding anniversary. It's not our when-we-first-met anniversary. It's not even our shackin' up anniversary. It's our first-time anniversary. 

Now, I can go one of two ways here. I can paint the evening with soft poetic hues or I can tell you the truth. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe...  

The truth is, when we met the first time in a local bar, I was distracted by a conversation with someone else. I may have been a little drunk. I know he had the most striking head of hair. He was grey but he wasn't old. He was dressed well and he was handsome. I thought he was out of my league. I didn't dwell on him. The next time we saw each other we were both attending a reading at a local theater. There was a lot of free wine. We kept bumping into each other over the free wine table. He was very chatty. Later, I learned this was a side effect of the drink and not his natural way. After the reading, we hooked up with a mutual friend and that's when we got bent and wicked. We whooped and hollered all the way through town. Hours passed. Someone shared party favors. We partied on. We lay at the end of a dead end road in a triangular formation. We were looking for UFOs and there were three of us, after all. We walked down the path and into our friend's place. We sat on the sofa like birds on a wire. We turned up the stereo. We listened to the music he and his friend made together. It sounded like outer space. Time slowed down. 

Then our friend excused himself and went to his bedroom with a steak knife and handcuffs under his arm. He might have had some beef jerky too, but I can't be sure of that. So we snuggled there on the sofa. He lay his head on my shoulder. He told me it felt so good. time stood still. Then he stood up and said he was going to bed. He turned around and held his hand out to me.

C'mon...

That's all he said. That's all it took. I put my hand in his and he pulled me upright. And that's just what he did. He pulled me up right into my new life with him. And I never saw it coming. We were just going to get it on in a dark, cluttered room on a cot covered with a Star Wars blanket. No one looks for true love in a place like that on a night like that. But we found it there. The beginning of a whole new way of life was hiding under some Star Wars memorabilia in a trailer in the woods. 

Oh, it hasn't been all glitter and unicorns since then. We've had our trials. Neither of us is perfect. But we continue to discover things about the other. We continue to evolve together. We still love each other and we are still going strong after seven years. Who wouldn't want to celebrate that?

*Follow our lead. Don't hesitate. Click on that spider picture up there and be amazed at the writing on the web*

Padres Day

Thank you for believing in me when no one else would or could. 

Thank you for making all the difference.

Thank you for loving me. 

Thank you for the babies. 

Happy Father's Day!

True Enough, Mr. Intensity Is Hawt...

...but he's also one of the most misunderstood and under appreciated human beings I've ever known. God knows, he's managed to love me more than I ever thought possible. He's the best husband I've ever had.

If you're gagging, blame Pru. She requested this post.