Merry Christmas to ALL ~ Well, mostly all........

Ok, I know, I know, I said that the next post would be "Coke Can Man", however,  in keeping with the spirit of Christmas, I should delay in posting it at least one more day. 

I'm hoping that everyone (ok, NOT everyone but the vast majority) had an awesome, stress-free, low anxiety filled Christmas.  I have so very much to be thankful for and am reminded daily, and sometimes hourly!

This holiday season has seen the beginnings of many new traditions.  (Thank you FF!)  Union Station for the Polar Express Pajama Party ~ Yes, #1, Nakita-Bear, Sloane-Baloney, and I ~ BONUS:  we all wore matchy jammies.  Old Navy isn't just for youngsters!

The family got to share our present exchange celebration on the 23rd with #1's loved one and her #1.  (He is absolutely adorable!)  Love seeing Christmas through the eyes of a child (9).  Don't get me wrong, I still get excited seeing Christmas through the eyes of my children ~ lol lol lol ~ 30, 28, 26 & 22.  Yep, they're still my children and will always be.  It was fun to see how excited one son was with his new iron (and I'm not talking a golf) and how excited the 9 year old was with an old fashioned bubble gum dispenser.  The excitement was almost equal.  

We did miss one of my #5's.  Petie wasn't able to make it to our gift exchange because he had to jump a plane for Alaska at the last minute.  He received a call that the delivery had been expedited on his FIRST and GREATEST gift.  He and our beautiful Kyla were blessed with the arrival of their first child, a precious son, Barrett.

Early Christmas Eve morning we loaded up, complete with the husky hyena, Acey, and my purty girl, Maggie, and headed off..... 

~ We Arrived ~

#NewTraditions #ChristFest2019 ~

Skiing 35 years ago was a breeze, but then again it was prior to two titanium screws in an ankle, a partial knee replacement, and a shredded bicep tendon.  Good news, I only fell once ~ it was within 50 ft from the bottom ~ Bad news, I was taken out by a 4 year old named Skyler.  The only thing hurt was my pride.  But a margarita and a Baileys coffee later, I was fine.

Unexpected Blessings During ChristFest2019

• The steaks, while not cooked the way we had intended, were still edible.
• You can actually buy hiking snow boots at the grocery store.
• Winning an 85 to 1 bet #2 & #3 had on me dumping off at the end of the ski lift.
• Lovely condo, complete with built-in tri-level "Butt Master".
• Brother's "accidentally" setting up their baby brother on a mogul run.  (The blessing was that he lived through it and made it to the bottom unscathed.)  On a side note, it's 10:42 and he's still asleep.

Until later......

Tell those you love that you do.

Take inventory of all your blessings.

Be a secret, silent, blessing to someone.

No one ever has to whine to get wine, just call me and I'll pour.

The Hiatus is OVER.....

Let's see about shaking out the mental cobwebs, wiping off the keyboard dust, and dropkicking this blog back into go mode.........

It's rather ironic that the day I decided to get motivated and jump back into the writing pond is the most dreary, arctic freezing gale, all over ~ nasty day.  Little bonus, it's only Thursday, December 12th and not the fear provoking, legendarily superstitious Friday, 13th.

For those of you "in the know",  I'm good and getting better each and every day.  For those of you who aren't, doesn't matter.....  I'm good and getting better each and every day.  

I'm extremely blessed with (some) GREAT family and (some) Great friends.  If you don't fall into either of the categories, try harder in 2020.  😏

I hope this Christmas season brings happiness, contentment, and peace to everyone reading this.  (And of course, to those who aren't reading this as well......) Feel free to share a link to a friend or loved one who you think might enjoy my ramblings.  What the heck, go ahead and send the link to someone you don't like, maybe it'll be painful experience for them, lol lol lol.  

In the meantime, I've got to run to the grocery.  I've been asked to make Jello-O Shots for an Ugly Sweater party ~

Check back tomorrow for my new posting, "Coke Can Man".

Erma Where Are You?

Maggie

(I'm not a HoHoHo)

Go to the source...........

Go to the source.......  

Yes, it might not be the easiest path.  It might cause you to be a little uncomfortable.  Or it might even make you feel off the charts, your heart might stop, you could potentially puke all over, and you can't breath, uncomfortable.  But in the long run, it is always better and should be the only way you go....  

"Go to the SOURCE." 

So let's take that saying back to where it began....  H2O, okay maybe not as far back as the molecular level....  Water.  Go to the source for the best water.  Think about it, if you go to the source, the very beginning where the water originates,  you will ensure that you have the cleanest, purest, best water there is!  If you don't go to the source but rather gather your water further downstream, you're getting water that's been exposed to all sorts of elements.  Think about what elements that can be folks.  That old saying, "Does a Bear chit in the woods?"  Yep, it does.  Along with chit from birds, beavers, fish, opossum, deer, see where this goes on and on and on..... but that's not all folks, they also leave behind their pee, and where do you think those animals go to bath?  Do you really want to consume that mess?  That's a LOT of chit!!

This relates to all aspects of life......  Go To The Source ~ GTTS

You hear a rumor? GTTS
You read something on social media?  GTTS

If you don't go to the source, you going to end up with a bunch of chit mixed in with the truth!

Thought of the day:  Hold those close to you closer ~ unless you are sitting on a bar stool next to a stranger.  You'll want to skip holding them closer.  The police get called, photographs without filters are taken, and there is a very limited amount of people that look good in orange.  Just trust me on this one.........

The New Girl In My Life..........

I have a new love in my life.  Her name is Maggie.  She is definitely my forever.  She is beautiful, considerate, playful, loving, and ~ she loves to snuggle.  But the very best trait of all...... she doesn't shed!!!

For those of you who've read ErmaWhereAreYou before, say in January, you already know that I haven't suddenly become a lesbian, but rather the happiest of puppy owner's.  Maggie is definitely and continues to be a major joy in my life.

We are working hard at training.  She and I have now mastered sit.  She does it with zero effort; whereas I can sit, but not comfortably on a piece of furniture that is extremely low or extremely high.  We know "down", "shake" (both front paws separately), and can make it halfway over attempting the major "rollover".  Both she and I have our own renditions of these.  And for one of us, not naming any names, it's quite comical to watch...... (so I've been told).

Maggie is very sensitive to my moods and feelings.  She's quick to "get it" when I'm needing a little more affection or snuggles but she's completely dense when it comes to say why I don't like or want her tongue down my ear.  Not sure what it is about ears, but this hairy furball loves them! 

I've about crippled myself more times than I can count due to her stealth-like lay mode.  She can sneak up next to me and lay next to my feet all without my knowledge, that is until I'm flying through the air trying not to fall or smush HER.  And then she looks at me with those huge, big, brown eyes that are shouting, "What the heck are you doing?  You look like you're going to kill yourself.  And then who will be here to feed me............."

She's made it to the point where she'll give me a one bark and nod to go out.  Doesn't matter if it's 2:30am.  (I really need to work on teaching her to tell time, but so far those early "outs" are few and far between so I can't hold it against her.  God knows how many middle of the night "outs" I personally have to make.)

She really wants to help.  Take the laundry for example.  No, that's what she does.  She takes the laundry.  From the dirty laundry hamper in the bedroom.  From the sorted piles in laundry room.  From the basket containing all the freshly folded laundry.  You'll find her in a well constructed "nest" of laundry, sometimes it's under the kitchen table, in a corner, in her kennel or in one of the bathrooms.  She likes to mix it up.  Much like the Easter Bunny, never leave it in the same place twice in a row.

One thing I decided early on with this furbaby, she will NOT be the recipient of ANY human table food.  She has lots and lots of treats specific to her breed but she will not get human food from us, the humans in her life.  Benefit, I don't have to worry about her putting on extra weight, BONUS......  I can open and eat cheese right next to her and she doesn't pay any notice of it.  Annie and Acey on the other hand will leave a puddle of doggie spit where they are if cheese is opened anywhere near them.  And when I say, anywhere near them, I mean on the same level of the same building they're in.

We're not sure exactly how large Maggie is going to get.  The vet is taking a "wait and see" approach.  We'll wait until she stops growing and then we'll see how big she is.  Right now, she's weighing in at a lean 23.5 lbs. but she stands as tall as Annie my German Shepherd. 

Up until now, I've boasted on and on about how wonderful she is.  Just like life, there is always a downside to everything.  It's just how accepting of the downside we're going to be that determines if it's a deal breaker or not.  In Maggies case, it's not a deal breaker just a breathing deterrent.  My beautiful, adorable, cuddly baby girl, has the most rancid, noxious, room clearing gas of any living organism I've ever come across in my 55 years!  It's so bad, the other dogs will leave the room.  But it's not all the time.  Her diet remains consistent, so it's not from anything she's eating.  I haven't been able to find a correlation, but I shall continue to strive to do so.  For the sake of all within a 16 foot vicinity of her and her behind.

So, once again.......  Thanks again to my wonderful sons for the most thoughtful, loving gift they could have given me for Christmas.  She's definitely the gift that keeps on giving.

And to those reading this, "May you be filled with the love of family and friends,  may peace and tranquility surround your heart and home, and may real laughter flow from your heart and maybe a little pee down your leg.  Happy April 1st.........."

What Do I Want To Be When I Grow Up...........

What do I want to be when I grow up?  Just a short while ago that wouldn't have been a questions to enter my mind.  But it is now.........  And my first response is Ron Scrogham.  Unless you were blessed to have been a student / parent / teacher at St. Pius X High School the name Ron Scrogham will mean absolutely nothing to you.  But amazingly most people who get the opportunity to know him will tell you the same thing, they what to be him when they grow up.  He's scarily smart, but never makes you feel stupid or a lessor human, he's extremely well traveled, multi-lingual, unpretentious, and could probably give Miss Manners some additional lessons in etiquette - but would do it so subtly she wouldn't even know she'd been schooled.  How often do you find an individual that everyone looks up to?  I would love to grow up and be Ron Scrogham, but I've accepted the fact that won't happen, it's not in the cards.  I'll just have to be thankful he's a friend and always makes himself available for answering questions on ......... hmmmm, just about any subject.  Haven't hit on one yet that he's not been able to be helpful.

That's the big question these days.  What do I want to be when I grow up?  I accomplished my goals early on.  I always wanted to be a momma.  But just not any momma.  I wanted to be a GREAT Momma.  I wanted to love and be loved on.  I was blessed to have done a dang good job of that too.  And that reality is evidenced by the fact that my four birth sons still invite me to do things with them, and they still want to do things with me.  I still get emails and Facebook messages from their friends.  And when those friends come to town, it warms my heart beyond words when I get a phone call asking if they can stop by.  For future knowledge, I have a completely open drop in policy.  If you are in town, please STOP BY.

In two blinks of an eye life has changed exponentially.  These are the moments that you're never told about, until you're standing smack dab in the middle of it.  Kind of like childbirth.  You never hear those horror stories from loved ones and well meaning friends until you are days away from dropping that baby out of your womb room.  And that's definitely NOT the time you want to hear all the horror stories they've saved up to share until the last minute.  Couldn't they have mentioned it BEFORE you got pregnant?

That's how I feel about this new stage in life, "The empty nest syndrome".  It's true everyone handles it differently, but no one ever told me what it could be like.  It was like a secret initiation.  But you have to be waist deep in it before they say, welcome to the freakin club.  And trust me, this is definitely a club I would rather not have been a part of.  I've got friends who stocked their wine cellar just for the celebration they were going to throw when their kiddos left.  Once stood at the door waving goodbye with one hand to her beloved youngest while she was changing the garage code with the other.

I've always been one of those mothers who truly enjoyed being around her children.  And around all her children's friends.  And the friends of their friends.  My house couldn't be over filled with too many kiddos.  I was the cooking and baked goods queen.  I thrived on it!  Now all my boys are MEN people.  My job is done, they have all been taught to cook, bake, clean, iron, sew, change a tire, lend a hand, change a diaper, and be a good friend.  I am extremely proud to have raise no ones future horrible husband!  They are all doing well in their respective careers, or intended career paths.  But sadly, they truly don't need me anymore, but I'm blessed because the still WANT me.

Now my days are filled with more empty space than I ever imagined possible. When the boys were younger I would have paid to be able to have the opportunity to take a leisurely bubble bath, now I have the time but I don't because I'm a little fearful that if I get in there, there is a small but realistic chance I won't be able to get out - without help.  It's a dang big tub!  Once upon a time, I did a minimum of four loads of laundry a day and still had piles to work on over the weekend.  I could never catch up. Now I wander around the house looking for enough items I can throw in the washer to justify an entire load.

So for the time being, I'm going to keep my eyes open, my pickleball gear at the ready in my car.  I'm going to continue to make homemade lemonade, but now I'm going to add equal parts lemonade to Woodford Reserve.  And keep looking for what I want to be when I grow up. ~ 

Glenda ~ The Good Witch

Every family has a "STAND OUT".  The overachiever.  The sweetest.  The kindest.  The nicest.  The one who can do no wrong, because they can't even conceive the idea of doing wrong.

In my family ~ not the one that I gave birth to, but the one I was born into ~ that ONE would be my little sister, twenty years my junior ~ Glenda.  She is goodness personified.  I like to equate her to "Rainbows and Unicorns" and her unicorns shit Skittles.  So beware people, if you can piss Glenda off, you will one day burn in Hell.  I've never heard her say a bad word about anyone.  She always looks for and finds some sort of goodness in people.  With regards to the Devil himself she'd say, now Michelle, you know he was once an Angel before he fell from Grace. 

Her name was not always Glenda.  Our father and her mother didn't name her Glenda, I did.  The name they put on her birth certificate was Tiffany Diane.  Let's get this straight right now, I was six months away from turning 21 when she was born.  And I'll be the first to acknowledge that at the time, I was far from happy about her impending birth.  After all, I had been the ONLY daughter for 20 something years.

My first nickname for her was Boo.  (Yep, I was way ahead of time.  It's so very commonplace today, but it wasn't 34 years ago.)  The reason she became Boo was due to fits of crying; exaggerated, embellished and completely theatrical crying.  She would do this when she didn't get her way.  "Boo, boo who who...."  I'd laugh at her and tell her she really had to try harder!  That usually ended with her in fits of laughter.  And that folks is how she morphed from Tiffany to Boo.  It stayed that way until she gave birth to her own first born.

It was about that time the name Glenda came into play.  Unless you live in a very remote, obscure location, in say Outer Mongolia, you should be familiar with Glenda.  As in Glenda the Good Witch.  She and I can each say the same the meaning of the definition of a word or phrase, however, Glenda's comes across with such a sweetness that no one can turn her down, get irritated, misinterpret or get hostile.  I, on the other hand, can simply look at someone and they turn and flee in the opposite direction.  Something about me being extremely intense and very intimidating.  Passionate maybe, misunderstood regularly.  But I think I am very approachable, logical, and willing to listen to another's opinion.  Unless, that opinion is moronic, imbecilic, or just plain stupid.  And none of those issues bothers Glenda, she has the patience of Jobe.

Neither one of us realized how commonplace my nickname for her had become until our father was in intensive care.  It took us a little bit to realize what was happening, all the nurses were calling her Glenda.  They thought that was genuinely her name.

I finally found the perfect sister hoodies for us.  What do you think?

Memories ~ Are you hearing Barbra singing?

~~ Memories......   If you answered yes to hearing Barbra (either silently or out loud), your age is showing.  And if it was out loud and you're sitting out somewhere in public please note people are probably looking at you questionably.  If you answered, "Who is Barbra", your age is showing.  For those in the "know" there doesn't even need to be a last name associated.  The spelling alone will do the job.

On the road again, lol, now who's hearing Willie?  Sorry folks, I guess this morning I'm channeling my inner Cristen ~ bright shiny object.  (And no, googling Cristen won't help you identify her.)  Let me attempt to get back on track.  Memories, they can flash, flood, overwhelm, make us laugh, make us cry, make us ponder what in the world were we thinking at the time.

I find it absolutely amazing that all of our senses, you remember those, we learned about them in elementary school.  Of course back then there were only five:  sight, taste, hearing, touch & smell.  WTH,  if you google it now, they've up the number to 9.  Not so sure I agree with the four new additions, but then they didn't ask me.  Much like Pluto.  Pluto will ALWAYS be a planet (and life long companion of Mickey).  There's that dang bright shiny object again....  Sorry.  Senses.  Memories.  I find it truly and absolutely amazing that all five of those original senses can alone, or in any combination together, trigger a memory that hits you as quickly as the speed of light.  Yes, Mark Bollman, I'm exaggerating but you get my point.

And how a memory, triggered by one sense, can simultaneously trigger another different sense.  Example:  I can hear a song, and BOOM.... I'm remembering a Friday night dance after a football game 39 years ago .  Slow dancing with my "first love" (yep, everyone has one).  But in that very next instant, while I'm remembering how it felt, remembering the sounds, BOOM.... I can remember how he smelled.  And it's actually such a strong memory, I can actually smell him.  Of course no one else can, but it's there. 

What's the first memory you can remember?  I'd love to hear it!  Mine, I was three.  My dad was talking on the phone.  He hung it up.  I can remember it had a long curly cord and even the location of it on the wall in the kitchen.  We walked into my bedroom and he let me pick out my favorite outfit, my closet doors slid open and shut.  We're back in the kitchen and he's helping me finish buttoning up the little blue top / jacket. I looked like a little sailor.  I remember him telling me today was a very special day because we were going to the hospital to pick up my mom and my brand new baby brother.  I was three.  It was March 1967.

I can't remember anything else from 1967 but that one stands out clear as day.  

It's not just about the destination, but the journeys we take to get there.  AND the memories we make along the way......  Now maybe my grown men boys will understand why I ALWAYS told them daily to "make good memories".

Points to Ponder ~

Points to Ponder in Life ~ If you're looking for something deeply esoteric, go ahead and pass on by this posting......

• How many times can you turn on the dryer again to "touch up" the load you haven't gotten around to folding yet?

• How many trips can you make to the refrigerator before you actually get what you kept going there for?

• How can there only be two of you in the house (because all of your beloved children have grown into men people and no longer live there) and someone uses the last of the toilet paper but doesn't replace it, and the one who did it blames it on the other?

• How can your spouse continue to tell everyone you are a plant killer when the only time a plant / plants die is when you are out of town and the hubby and beloved sons are the ones who were supposed to water them?

• How can your spouse count it as a mini-vacation when you go out of town to attend one of your parents funeral? 

• How can eleven bathroom hand towels disappear completely, and NO ONE knows how, within a couple of days?

• How can a man stand in front of the mirror and say, "Wow, I put on 10 lbs.  I need to drop them" give up one slice of toast a morning and a week later get on the scale 10 lbs lighter? 

• How can you cook a certain meal (not once a week but at least once a quarter or two) for 30 years and then be told, "hmmmm, I really don't care for this"?

• How can you search for your phone for ten minutes when you finally realize that the missing phone is the one you're having a conversation on?

• How can you lose three out of four pairs of Sam's Club multi-pack readers the day after you purchase them?

• How can you not melt into a pile of goo or a sobbing mess:

1. When you look at and smell a newborn baby?
2. Cuddle a puppy?
3. Realize that your son paid for dinner without you knowing it?
4. Ride a horse?
5. Look back at photos of your grown men children when they were adorable little boys?
6. Watch families bow their heads together?
7. Realize how important everyone is in your life?

Auntie Smitty & Uncle Mamie ~

Family Tier.....  My father was an only child.  My mother had one sister, but Linda had down syndrome so my brother and I never had any true aunts or uncle.  We had a plethora of great aunts and great uncles (and trust me, we truly believed they were GREAT!).  We also had a rather large quantity of cousins who we called "aunt & uncle" simply because in the South you do NOT call adults by their first name when you're a youngun.  Expecially when most of those "aunt & uncle" were even significantly older than my parents.  And then there are the very, very, close friends of your parents.  You know the ones your parents chose for you to call "aunt & uncle".  They are "family by choice" rather than blood.

That would be the category that Mamie and Smitty would fall into.  My dad and Smitty worked together for years and years at Great Lakes Steel.  It was a wonderful friendship because their respective wives also got along as well as the guys.  Mamie and Smitty and Mickee and Gloria were like peanut butter to jelly.  I can't remember a time when they weren't my Uncle Smitty and Auntie Mamie.  However, for whatever strange and bizarre reason, I ALWAYS swapped up and called them Uncle Mamie and Auntie Smitty.  They got to a point where they just accepted it.  They also had two kiddos, Geno and Sandy.  Yep, cousins without the same blood.  (By the way, they still have them......)

Uncle Smitty was a decompartmentalized, metrosexual man way ahead of his time.  If you went by appearance alone, you might think him to be rather intimating and gruff.  He was a strong, bear of a man with a barrel chest and a military edged flat top.  But his sparkling eyes and deep, infectious laugh that bubbled from deep within and erupted out like a volcano.  He was a hard core,  steel mill working, man's man, who unbeknownst to only the closest of the close had a secret addiction to day time soap operas.  You didn't bother Uncle Smitty when his "show" was on.

Auntie Mamie is Auntie Mamie.  She has the sweetest voice.  She's the exact same size today as she was seventy plus years ago.  I swear she found the fountain of youth and hasn't shared with anyone.  She was one of those special adults who could get on to you, make you do the right thing without you ever realizing it even happened.  She has one of the biggest hearts EVER.  (**Disclaimer, if I mix up a tidbit of fact here, it's only in the slightest detail as I was quite young when this part of her story occurred.)  She met an extremely distraught young woman pushing a stroller one day.  The woman was visibly upset.  Auntie Mamie had her come in and sit down and talk with her.  The woman said she couldn't take care of her baby girl.  The infant had special needs and the woman had her own demons she was trying to deal with.  Auntie Mamie told her that she would take the baby in and mother her until the woman was ready to step back in.  And that is EXACTLY what Auntie Mamie DID for a couple of years.  

Growing up, our two families would vacation together.  During the cold weather season, January was usually the month of choice to depart the frigid temperatures of Michigan. We'd pack up our two travel trailers, load up the cars, turn on the CB radio, and start the trek from Michigan to Florida.  During warmer months, we'd head to Canada.  Those trips were some of the best memories that stand out from my youth.  This was definitely PRE-electronic games.  There was one specific trip to Florida where we discovered the fun and pleasure of "butt holes". 

We would dig a hole large enough for our behinds to fit in.  This gave the illusion that our legs were coming out from our chest.  We looked like we were two and a half to three feet tall sitting in those holes.  (Yep, we didn't need much but a shovel and great imaginations.)  We dug "butt holes" all around our two camp sites.  It was all fun and games until the next morning when my father came walking out of the trailer, with his first morning cup of coffee and stepped down off the trailer step and straight into a butt hole dug by Geno.  The entire KOA Kampground heard my dad bellowing GEEEEEENNNNNOOOOOOO echoing through the quiet morning air.  Needless to say, boundaries were set for all future butt hole digs.  

Just like Superman had kryptonite, my strong, manly man, Uncle Smitty had bridges.  Yep, bridges.  Never knew about it or realized it was a thing, until we had to cross the longest bridge in the state of Florida.  I remember I was riding in the vehicle with them at the time.  Before we began, Auntie Mamie warned Sandy and I, but me specifically (hmmm, anyone surprised that she was afraid I couldn't keep my mouth shut?) that we had to be very, very, quiet.  As in don't talk, whisper, or murmur until we were on the other end of the bridge.  If I didn't know better, I'd say that their dog was even holding his breath.  To quote a southern phrase "you could have heard a gnat fart".  That was the day I learned that "white knuckles" is a real thing.  Uncle Smitty had such a hold on the steering wheel, that he truly had white knuckles.  

Uncle Smitty took the lead and drove smack down the middle of that two lane bridge, all three miles of it.  To my dad's dying day he swore that Uncle Smitty had an angel with him that day.  The odds there wasn't an oncoming vehicle the entire length of that bridge was incomprehensible.  Afterwards, my dad asked Uncle Smitty what would have happened should an 18-wheeler come across the bridge from the other direction.  Uncle Smitty looked him straight in the eye and without a bit of humor said, "he'd better been good at backing that rig up because I wasn't going anywhere".

Fast forward to 1988.  My hubby and I were getting married at my church home in Decatur, Alabama even though we both were living in Mission, KS at the time.  My mom was very instrumental in planning my wedding.  I know she truly enjoyed herself.  When she got married, it was at the courthouse.  One area I didn't fight her on (which I probably should have) was the guest list.  We both had given her the lists of guest we wanted included.  Our parents and my grandparents also indicated the individuals they wanted to be included at our nuptials. My mom was not only the manager of the list, but she was also the keeper of the RSVP's.  Whenever I would ask who had responded, she would laugh and say, "It's a surprise, you'll see at the wedding".  

Picture this......  Hubby and his best man and groomsmen are at the front of the church.  My attendants have already walked down the aisle as well.  The church is pleasantly but not uncomfortably filled.  My dad is super nervous.  For a man who never met a stranger and could strike up a conversation with anyone, he didn't like to be singled out with all the attention on him.  So you can imagine his horror, as we're walking down the aisle I'm scanning the pews to see who all came to share in my special day when all of a sudden, I spot Uncle Smitty and Auntie Mamie.  So of course, I do what no other rational bride does.  I stop, hand my father my bouquet, squeeze into the pew and holler "UNCLE SMITTY"!!!!!  Uncle Smitty turns as red as a KC Chiefs uniform and is completely transfixed.  Auntie Mamie finally leans over and whispers rather loudly: "Smitty, Smitty, you better get up and go over to her, otherwise she's not going to walk down the aisle".  So my poor, flustered, beloved Uncle, scooted down the aisle to give me a big bear hug.  All the while I'm streaming tears of joy.  When he's done hugging me, he whispers, "Michelle, you better get going.  John is up there waiting for you", I told him ok that I'd see him later.  My father was still standing there with a look of complete disbelief.  His face was the whitest shade of white, he'd broken out in a cold sweat.  I reached over and took my flowers said, "Okay, I'm ready to continue".

It wasn't until later at the reception when I introduced my hubby to Uncle Smitty and Auntie Mamie that he shared that had Uncle Smitty been ten years younger, we would have had to had a discussion BEFORE the vows were exchanged.  

My poor Uncle Smitty took it all in stride!  Oh how I love those two....  I hope they know what they both mean to me.  It doesn't matter how much time passes, I love that I can call them anytime and without hesitation they recognize my voice and it's as if we had just seen each other earlier in the week.

Everyone needs an Auntie Smitty and Uncle Mamie in their life!!!

Help me I might fall and I'm not sure I want to get up........

The hands on the clock of life seem to be spinning at the speed of a fan blade on high.  Didn't we just celebrate 2018???  When and how did 2019 sneak in?

My dear friend Kim's mom passed away in January of 2018, my father passed away rather quickly and unexpectedly in April.  My best friend from Centerville Ohio's dad unexpectedly passed away last week.  Today I attended his Celebration of Life.  He was a wonderful man with a great big sense of humor.  He was our graduation trip destination - that'll be another blog entry for another time.  His was a complete surprise departure from our world.  My heart goes out to Lisa and her family.  Additionally, I've gotten three phone calls notifying me of cousins who've all passed, all within the past two months.  I am having a hard time accepting the knowledge that I'm now at a stage in life when I have to expect the unexpected.  

I've now reached the point where I'm not so much worried about my own mortality but rather those I love, respect, and need / want in my life.  I still NEED to be able to dial their number, hear their voice and chat with them whenever.  I've never felt the need to contemplate this before.

My life mentor - Linda Bollman celebrated her 80th birthday in November.  She's not aged, that I can tell, in the past 40 something years.  Her voice is the same on the other end of the phone, her wit and wisdom remains intact, and her laugh can make any problem you have forgotten for the time being.  (For those of you not familiar with her, I suggest you go back and read my blog WWLBD.  

My Uncle Mamie and Auntie Smitty......  They both just had a big birthdays too.  But you look and listen to them and you'd never know it.  I need to make sure I share a couple of their stories.  (But not tonight....)

Three months ago I gave birth to my first born son.  What stumps me is that  in a mere three weeks that same beautiful bundle of joy is turning 30.  As in 30 FREAKIN years old!!  We sat together the other day chit chatting and he informed me that this particular birthday was really bothering him.  Life is going well for him.  He likes his job, has a great apartment, but is still looking for his "forever love".  He then went on to tell me that it wasn't so much the number he was turning, it was the fact that he remembered well when his father and I both turned 30.

Then throw my mom into the mix.  Yes, my beloved mother, giver of life.  When I got done sharing with her that I was having a hard time with Genesis' birthday, her loving comment of support turned out to be, "well honey, how does it feel to have a son turning 30"?  My response, "Well mom, how's it feel to have a GRANDSON turning 30".  She didn't appreciate it, the conversation ended rather quickly.

Thank you so very much beloved son.

At what point did I get old??  It's not like there's a specific date on the calendar you can look at and say, "wow, it's official my OLD is six months away".  My hubby suggested to the boys (yes, they're men but they will forever be my "boys") that a great Christmas gift for me would be a MedAlert or something similar.  You know, one of those buttons for people who've fallen and can't get up.  Thankfully for me, they opted against his suggestion and went with a golden doodle instead.  At least this way, if I'm on the floor and can't get up I'll have a bundle of warm fuzz to snuggle with me until someone finds my body.

While I'm mentioning my body..... what the devil is going on with my neck?  Mom????  Oh, Glooooo......  Where are you???  There are things happening to my body you failed to share with me.  One day my eyes went out (you'll notice that I've increased the font size on here).  Another day my boobs decided my belly was a great place to rest.  I now really crave a nap about 3:30 in the afternoon.  And broccoli suddenly hates me! 

Hmmmmm, there were a couple of other points I truly intended to share, but for the life of me I can't remember what they were now......  yep, yet another sign.

Sound familiar to anyone else?  Well, since my brain has officially shut down for the day it seems appropriate for me to go put on my jammies, lotion my neck, turn on my electric blanket and carefully slide into my comfy bed and snuggle with my beloved fur baby.

For those of you who want a little "Ahhhhhhh" to wrap up reading this.....  Here is my beautiful snuggly fur baby:  Maggie Rose Ohboy Baker