Category: Random Stuff

This Weekend!

Hubbin and I met when The Oldest One was 2, so we never had that honeymoon period. We’ve never been on a trip without kids (we actually don’t vacation much and are trying to change that). In fact, we married on a Saturday, and Sunday evening I left on a business trip with my boss at the time (female), and Hubbin left to go back to West Virginia, which is where he worked for fourteen long months, part before we married and part after.

Funny side story, since my boss and I were both females, when we traveled, we roomed together. Sunday, when we were checking into the hotel, the front desk manager remarked on my wedding ring and said “Wow, that really is a stunning ring!”, to which I replied “Thanks!! I just got married yesterday!”

It wasn’t until later that I realized she probably was taken off guard at the two chicks checking into a room together the day after my wedding. Perhaps if it had been a business trip to California, maybe we’d have gotten a free bottle of champagne or something, but alas, we were also in West Virginia, so instead we got wide eyes and a “Ahhhh….uh, congratulations.”

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Easter Weekend

This weekend, Hubbin’s sister, Sila, came up with her entourage. We headed to Snowflex to fake ski/tube. I’m not what you would call an “outdoor activity” kind of girl, but you know, I decided to shock Hubbin by participating and decided to go down the baby slope in a tube. Then I got super daring and went on a

knee board.

Let me explain that this isn’t snow. The best way I can describe it is the non-fuzzy part of velcro, but about an inch long and water sprays so it slides like snow (I suppose, I don’t like the cold so I don’t go sledding). So, I jumped on the knee board and got mostly to the end before this happened:

It. Hurt.

It. Hurt.

Then I decided I was much too injured to participate so I did this mostly the rest of the time:


I was holding a shirt for someone, see? It’s blue.

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The Breakfast

Continued from here….

After the unexpectedly hot night, we trudged into breakfast. Everyone else was part of a couple and had a fun story; one couple had just gotten engaged, another was moving to Italy at the end of the week, and the other was an older couple, celebrating his 80th birthday. His wife was the epitome of a true southern woman; she had a slow drawl and enunciated in all the right parts, and it made me think of Designing Women, and I softly giggled, though my allergic reaction to the wine the night before seemed to be getting worse instead of better.

They brought out the food, which was so good I’d have slapped my mother. Or your mother. Anyone’s mother, really (side note: Mom, that’s just a saying, I wouldn’t ever actually slap you). We waited until they served everyone, and I started to take a bite. The older man stood up and announced that he was a man of God, and would be leading us in prayer.

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Yeah ok, so here’s the Williamsburg story. Yes, way, way late. Whatever, I got lazy; really, what do you expect?

April and I have been what some would call ‘penpals’ for several years now. She’s one of those California girls, with hair the color of gold and gorgeous, but she’s funny, too, and those aren’t traits you usually see together. So when she started planning a trip to fly to the east coast for a friend’s wedding, we decided to finally meet. She chose Williamsburg because of the rich history (who’d have known), and I went along because I wanted to meet her and also because of the outlets (duh).

Finally the day came, and I packed my bag and jumped in the car, leaving poor Hubbin to care for the girls, which is totally not foreign to him, but The Little One was sick and she is a MISERABLE sick person, but he kissed me goodbye and sent me on my way to go drive 4 hours to stay at a Bed & Breakfast with this blonde chick. He’s cool.

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It’s pretty much a given in the blogger world that if you only post sporadically, it’s essentially blog-suicide. I try really hard to not force posts because they sound forced and that’s not my thing anyway. However, the posts are lacking and I’m feeling rambly so I figured I’d write, at least to tell you why I’m not writing as much.

I am very fortunate in several ways. I have a great husband and kids, we live a comfortable life, we argue very infrequently. I get to work from home, which allows me to get The Oldest One off the bus every day, and work in my jammies and all the other things that make having a home office good.

I also feel absolutely zero need to ‘keep up with the Joneses’, as they say. I wish we had a bigger house so I could get away from my children just for space reasons, but I don’t care enough to clean my house and put it on the market. I genuinely never look at Facebook and get jealous of what others have. We have some nice things, not because I want to keep up an image, but because I know nice clothes last longer, and I don’t want to deal with the repair issues of older vehicles. The Uggs I bought from my niece and I have no idea if they are real, but they keep my feet so warm that I wouldn’t care if they said Goodwill across the back.

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Back in November 2009, I went through a bad time. I didn’t know God then, but as I lay in the floor of my daughter’s bedroom (she wasn’t home), sobbing in my hands, talking about divorce, I heaved through tears the phrase “I have to call Amy”.

Amy? I wouldn’t have known Amy if I’d fallen over her. I couldn’t have picked her out of a lineup. She was the wife of a guy whose brother I’d dated for five months my freshman year of college. Yes, that removed. And while the brother and I had remained friends over the years, I never had met his wife, and I hadn’t even seen him in years. And yet there I was…sobbing on the floor, facing the wreckage, only to feel someone, something, say “I need to call Amy”.

She had to have been bewildered; I didn’t have her number, though we had Facebooked a few times (you know, the casual “Hey, we should meet up one day”) that lasts for years. So Thanksgiving weekend, I sent her a message that my marriage had fallen apart, and all I knew was that I needed her. And that was it. And she jumped in. In retrospect, can you imagine how horrifying that must have been?

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