Tom and Gerry

Happy Birthday to two of the worlds most beloved characters of all time, Tom and Gerry. Funny, loveable, furry, mischevious, timeless, ageless. And you thought I was talking about the cartoon characters.

Meet my brother in law, Tom.

And my brother, Gerry.

Two great guys, who just happened to have their birthdays 1 day apart.

I've known Tom as long as I've known my husband, and that's a long time. Tom and my sister we're friends in high school and hung out together, although I don't think they ever dated until they got engaged. Weird, I know, but it's a great story, which I won't go into just now.

When Tom was young, him and his cousin decided they wanted to live in the hills like mountain men. They thought it sounded fun to live off the land and answer to no one. Tom loved his Mom and didn't want her to worry about him, so he wrote a beautiful note, assuring her he would be just fine, not to worry, and that he would be home in a few weeks. He packed his bag, grabbed some oranges, and set off for the woods behind his home. It didn't take long for Tom and cousin to realize mountain life wasn't all that it was cracked up to be, especially when your hungry and there's no one to cook for you, so after a few hours they gave up their dreams and headed back for home. Tom was worried of his Mother's reaction, but all she said to him when he returned back home, was what a lovely letter he had written for her, she would always cherish it.

Now I know where Tom got his nice-ness from. I have never heard Tom say anything mean about anybody, ever. He is quick to laugh, slow to anger, and easy to love. He'll always be a hero for saving my sister from marrying Dean the String, and I'm so honored to call him my brother.

My brother Gerry is 2 years younger than I am. I have fond memories growing up with him as my buddy, whether it was jumping between the beds, not being able to touch our feet to the floor for fear of the alligators in the watery carpet below. Or playing toss the bean bag with books. Sounds weird, I know, but it was really fun. We were pretty creative in finding ways to entertain ourselves back then, before Nintendo and Facebook came along. We used to take the dining table leaves and prop them up against the stairs for a fun little slippery slide, or take the slippery ugly green sleeping bags and slide down the length of the stairs.

When we were little, my mom used to sew most of our clothes. On those rare occasions that she found an exceptional good deal, we would find ourselves on the receiving end of matching outfits. I'm not sure how Gerry felt about it, but he was young enough that I don't think he even cared. Mom used to line us up on these special occasions, usually Easter and Christmas outfits, and have Dad take our pictures. I remember standing still in a line while the movie camera was recording history in the making, when Gerry suddenly, would step out of line and start stomping at the ground! I don't know if he was dilusional or just highly imaginative, but he always thought he was seeing spiders, hence the stomping and killing them. He was constantly killing those imaginary pests, our own little personal exterminator. I'm not sure when it was that he outgrew the spider stomping phase, but I'm glad for his sake that he doesn't continue to see things that aren't really there, especially spiders. eeek.

When we were probably 10 and 12, we decided we wanted to take up skiing. That is not a cheap sport, so our wise mother suggested we earn the money for lessons. We had a neighbor down the street who owned his own food storage business, so my mom talked him into letting us sell his product door to door and get a small percentage. My mom made up samples of his delicious "Peach Delight" and "Apple" drink mix, blueberry and maple syrup, and we hit the streets, trying to muster enough courage to knock on strangers doors and sweet talk our way into a sell. I'm not sure how much money we actually made, but our efforts paid off and we were able to help buy our ski equipment and take a few lessons.

I'm not sure how old he was when he Gerry had the brilliant idea to put caulking material on a water balloon and throw it at the neighborhood bully. For a kid without any formal baseball throwing training, he did us all proud. Smack! It was a direct hit...right in the face! Not only did Gerry run for his life, but every neighbor kid in our yard took flight. The closest shelter? Our house. Problem? Mom and Dad were out on a date, we were alone, defenseless, and scared! We quickly ran through the house, locking every door and window we could find. But that wasn't enough to stop the balloon eating Steve, oh no! We could hear him outside our door, ranting and raving about swallowing the poisonous goo and how he was going to die and he was going to take us with him! Obviously the walls inside our home were not protection enough from the threats and obsenities we could hear, so we ran to the safest place we knew, our "Fruit Room". Don't let the name fool you, it was like our own personal bomb shelter. It was a long, narrow, cold dungeon built underneath our front porch. We called it our fruit room cuz that's where mom stored all her bottled fruit and food storage since it stayed nice and cold. ( It also doubled as a haunted hall for my 2 sister's october birthdays. ) We all huddled together, too afraid to venture upstairs to call one of the others kid's mom and tell her we were being held hostage by a foaming at the mouth lunatic. It was the longest night of our lives. We didn't know if he was still out there, waiting for us to come out, and none of us we're willing to risk our lives to find out.
Finally, when we heard the familiar voices of Mom and Dad, we felt safe enough to come out. We were saved! Steve had apparently given up, went home, called poison control, drank some milk, and was just fine. Gerry, on the other hand, was afraid to walk past Steve's house for the longest time. Ok, I can't really speak for Gerry, but I was afraid to walk past Steve's house.

Those were the good ol' days. Now Gerry is the father of 5. I'm sure his rocket building, balloon throwing, spider killing days has served him well in raising 4 boys and 1 girl of his own. He is a quiet, gentle and giving soul that is filled with knowledge and talent and humility like no other. I am so blessed to have grown up with such a wonderful brother. I don't remember ever, EVER, getting mad or having a fight with Gerry. He always has been, and still is, the best brother a sister could ever ask for.

Both Tom and Gerry have seen their share of loss and adversity, especially this past year. Both have met their challenges with strength, courage, and faith. You are wonderful examples to your families, and to me. I'm so proud to have you as brothers and love you both!

25 down, eternity to go

Yesterday was my 25th wedding anniversary. I hate to say "silver" because that implies old, and gray, which I am, but will forever be in denial. If your thinking I didn't post this yesterday cuz I was out celebrating my big day with my man, out having a good time with the little surprise I planned for him, well...you would be wrong.

I spent the night with the other 'Biggest Losers', and no, I wasn't too 'Glee' about it. I would have gladly given up my tuesday night shows to be out on the town, but it wasn't meant to be. The stars were not aligned in our universe and things just didn't work out the way they were supposed to. So instead, we let Chef Boyardee prepare us a nice little romantic italian dinner (mini-ravioli), then Tary and Trey went to scouts, while I sat home alone, just me and my thoughts, thinking how much I love my husband and reflecting on all the wonderful years we've had thus far.

Yeah right. I was flipping back and forth between my two favorite shows, enjoying the uninterrupted "Me" time. I must admit I was a little disappointed things didn't turn out the way I expected them too, but then again, if there's one thing I've learned in the 25 years of marriage, it's this: If you don't expect anything, you'll never be disappointed when that's all you get.

Here are 25 more little words of marriage wisdom I've learned over the years:

1. Always check the direction of the toilet seat in the middle of the night before you sit down.
2. When you ask him what he wants for dinner and he says he doesn't care, be prepared after you've made him something. That's when he'll tell you what he really wanted.
3. When you ask him what he wants for dinner and he says "anything you want to make", make a phone call and order out.
4. Don't try to spend as much money on your hobbies as he will on his; I know it's not fair.
   
5. Life isn't fair, get over it.
6. Dancing in the kitchen is much more fun with a partner.
7. Painting your bedroom pink while the husband is away on an expensive out of state hunt WILL deter him from ever doing it again.
   
8. Don't expect oohs and aahs from your man after showing him your latest craft project. That's what friends and sisters are for.
9. "That's nice dear" is man talk for "That is awesome! You are so talented! You always amaze me!"
10. Never be too tired to stay up all night talking and giggling.
11. Men will deny that they giggle.
    
12. Success in marriage does not come merely through finding the right mate, but through being the right mate. ~Barnett R. Brickner
13. Choose your love, then love your choice.
    
14. All marriages are happy. It's the living together afterward that causes all the trouble. ~Raymond Hull
15. Never feel remorse for what you have thought about your wife; she has thought much worse things about you. ~Jean Rostand, Le Mariage, 1927
16. Marriage means commitment. Of course, so does insanity.
17. Don't smother each other. No one can grow in shade. ~Leo Buscaglia
18. The husband who doesn't tell his wife everything probably reasons that what she doesn't know won't hurt him. ~Leo J. Burke
19. Married life teaches one invaluable lesson: to think of things far enough ahead not to say them. ~Jefferson Machamer
20. A happy marriage is the union of two good forgivers. ~Ruth Bell Graham
21. I have learned that only two things are necessary to keep one's wife happy. First, let her think she's having her own way. And second, let her have it. ~Lyndon B. Johnson
22. Before marriage, a man declares that he would lay down his life to serve you; after marriage, he won't even lay down his newspaper to talk to you. ~Helen Rowland
23. Why does a woman work ten years to change a man's habits and then complain that he's not the man she married? ~Barbra Streisand
    
24. The best way to remember your wife's birthday is to forget it once. ~H.V. Prochnow
25. If you want to be loved, you have to be lovable. ~ Ruth Mills (my mom, best advice I ever got)

In all fairness, my husband did surprise me with this beautiful necklace!



And Skip and Faun surprised my husband with his elk head that Skip so beautifully taxidermied. Thanks to them, Tary went to bed a happy man.

And I started working on my new list:

26. Never tell your husband he can decorate the basement anyway he wants, just so long as he gets it finished.

Spring = Motivation

I love Spring! As I was driving Trey to school this morning, I caught a whiff of the fresh cut grass as the landscapers at the park were making their first cut of the season, and I knew spring had finally arrived! And that can only mean two things...my allergies will also be in full bloom soon, and time to shave my legs and pull out the shorts.

The one downside to being married (luv ya hon) is having to share a closet. Our closet isn't very big to begin with, so every spring and fall I find myself doing the ol' wardrobe switch-a-roo. And every year I pull out my stack of shorts and sort them into piles of "still fit" and "don't-fit-anymore-but-someday-they-will". One pair in particular, has been my motivation for the past 3 years now. My sister gave me a pair of capris from Sundance that are adorable! The problem is, they ride low on the hip, and without that upper support to hold my junk in, everything just seems to come spilling out. And every fall as I pack them away, I vow to be able to fit into them by next spring. But the inevitable always happens...halloween candy, Thanksgiving pies, and Christmas. Of course, that's why New Years was invented by the healthclub industry, and I, like the millions of others who fall into their little trap, get on the band-wagon for about a month, and try to lose it all by spring. The way things were looking, I didn't think spring was ever going to get here, so I didn't feel the urgency to jump on that health-kick wagon until this week.

I don't know how I've been able to go through late night TV and never see the informercial for P90X. Heaven knows i've spent my fair share on knives that never dull, cleaners that smell like an orange grove, and exercise videos that promise a 'new me' in six weeks, so when Tary told me he was going to get this new exercise program, I was all for it. The treadmill was getting a little boring, and if He was going to buy it, He must be planning on using it. Finally, a work-out buddy!

Remember now, I had never heard of this program, much less seen it. I had no idea what it was about. When Tary brought it home I must admit, just looking at the cover and the 12 cd's, each guaranteed to make the next 90 days of your life a living *@?!, I was scared. It took us a month before we got up the courage to open it up and watch the first CD labeled, "How to Bring It". Then with a renewed determination, we promptly watched the first workout "Chest and Back". Wow! Just watching it made me tired, so it sat, unused, for another week.

Which brings me to motivating factor no. 2. Next week is my 25th anniversary. I've planned a little surprise get-away for me and the hubby. Enough said...you get the picture. Time to kick this flabby bootie into gear.

Normally, I'm one of those people who go into a cold lake, one inch at a time, so it doesn't hurt so bad, but I knew if I wanted fast results, I was going to have to jump in all at once. So I put in "Plyometrics", and first thing the instructor says is how this is the hardest workout. No turning back now. Ten minutes later, I thought I would pass out...and that was just the warm-up! Well, I jumped, kicked, squatted and lunged for the next 30 minutes. Don't be proud of me just yet, the workout was 52 minutes, I lasted through half of it before my face felt ready to explode. I didn't know how many shades of red my face made, but I discovered that night it can go all the way up the color palatte to crimson.

That was 3 days ago...today I've finally been able to walk up the stairs without the use of the handrail. When people at work would ask me what's wrong, all I had to say was P90X, and I would get sympathy. I really didn't know what I was getting in to...

...but now I do. And i've come to the conclusion...

...inch by inch is much more sinch. Besides, it's not warm enough yet to jump in any lake.

Silence of the Moths

So, a friend of mine (which shall remain anonymous, due to the sensitive nature of her feelings, and the embarrassing lack of kitchen hygiene) had a moth infestation a couple of months ago. Not the big, creepy, silence of the lambs kind of moths, just kinda cute, baby moths. They were small enough, and still slow enough, that she could catch them in her hands, and depending on her mood at the moment, either released them to freedom outside, or would drown them in the sink. The problem was, as soon as she got rid of one, two more would show up. Killing 10 in one day, 20 the next. What the heck! It's cold, aren't moths supposed to hibernate, or fly south for the winter? Where were they coming from?
Well, they obviously were coming from the kitchen. That's where all the captures and killings were taking place. Were they drawn to the paint color in the kitchen? Or the wonderful smells? (My friend is an excellent cook) Finally, she came to the conclusion that a moth must have laid her eggs somewhere in the kitchen, and her babies were now just hatching. A pretty gross thing to think about. In due time, they were all exterminated, and the kitchen became once more, a moth free zone.
Well, a couple of weeks ago, they returned. Slowly at first, just one or two, which quickly became again, 10 or 20. One day her daughter came to visit, and noticing the unusual choice of pets, asked my friend about them. When she told them how they wouldn't go away and kept coming back, her daughter, who was either wise or paid attention in science class, said "Mom, those aren't moths, those are weevils". What? She was sure her daughter was mistaken. Weevils are creepy little worm things that live in wheat and expired mac-n-cheese. Sometimes they unexpectedly appear in hot cocoa, making the drinker think they were marshmallows that didn't melt, until they realized that marshmallows don't crunch (yeah, really happened). But they don't fly around pretending to be moths. However, the very idea that they possibly could be, prompted my friend to do a little spring kitchen cleaning, starting with the cupboards.
She started with the bottom shelf where she stores her wheat and rice, all clear. No signs of life. Same with the pasta shelf and cookie and cracker shelf. She was feeling pretty confident by the time she got to the spice shelf. But since she was in the zone, she cleaned out, threw out, lined up and organized. Maybe the weevil scare was a blessing in disguise. Five shelves down, one to go. The baking shelf. Surely there would be no weevils among the powdered and brown sugars, the cocoa and chocolate chips. Marshmallows and nuts...what the crap?! What is in the nuts? WEEVILS! Gross! Creeping...slugging...sluffing...hatching...flying weevils!

Is your skin crawling yet? Mine was.

Needless to say, her top shelf is completely clean...of everything! No more weevils, no more moths, no more food.

P.S...Don't be asking me to bake you any chocolate chips cookies any time soon. I seem to be lacking a few key ingredients.