Babies and Brawn

Jen van Wijn, photographer

I think the general consensus (among women anyway) is that watching a man tenderly care for a baby or an animal is one of the sexiest things going. I must say, I agree. Read on......

A couple of evenings ago, The Princess was hanging out by the pool, phone glued to her ear -- in other words, the natural state of a 16 year old. She came running inside (phone still glued to ear.....where it stayed throughout this event), screaming that one of the dogs was after a fledgling dove that had fallen out of the nest. The Husband and I locked the dogs in the house while The Princess protected the baby. The Husband grabbed one of my latex gloves from the kitchen so he could pick the baby up and transfer it back to its nest, without transferring his manly scent along with it. (I buy them by the box because I think it's yucky and icky and gross to prepare things like meatloaf without them. I don't like all that greasy, fatty, slimy crap on my hands or under my nails. Don't judge me.)

We couldn't determine which nest belonged to the baby because there are several nests in the back yard. So The Husband (The 6'1" 240 pound Husband with tiny bird sitting quietly in latex-gloved hand) decides to teach the bird how to fly....with narration:

Well, little one, I don't know where you live, so I'm going to teach you to fly.  And then I can scratch it off my bucket list. (At which point, I asked, "So teaching a bird to fly is on your bucket list?" He said, "It is now.") Speaking to the bird: You gotta do a good job because we have dogs that will eat you. OK, so all you gotta do is flap your wings when I tell you to. Ready? Here we go..... The Husband tosses the baby into the air. It flaps for a minute and crashes into the fence. He retrieves the baby.

That was a good try, but you gotta work on that landing or you're gonna get all fucked up. Let's try again. Ready? TH tosses the baby in the air. This time it crashes into the grill.

Your landings really suck. That could be a problem. Now, remember, you're supposed to flap your wings and fly up into a tree or someplace safe....up high....not on the ground. And you can't keep flying into shit. Fly straight. Got it? Ready? TH tosses baby in air. Baby circles right back to TH's hand. Which was actually pretty cool.

I'm glad you like me, but you really need to learn to fly. You can do it! Just go straight to the tree over there. No crash landings. Let's try again. Ready?

TH tosses baby in air and it flutters, unstable-y, near the pool. We all gasp, afraid it won't make across the vast expanse of water. But it does -- whew! -- and crashes into a temporary/fabric fence which was much softer than the grill or the wooden fence. 

That was better, and way softer than that grill, huh? Good job! But I'm afraid you're just not strong enough to make it yet.....

The three of us confer and decide that the safest place for the baby is at the park near our house. TH reasoned that there was a creek for water and lots of bugs to eat. And they had recently mowed, so getting sliced to tiny bits wasn't an issue. Hey, we tried to cover all our bases. So, TH carried the baby, I drove, and we all found a comfy spot by the creek. We said our good-byes, wished it luck, and headed home, hoping we had done our good deed for the day (instead of leaving it alone and helpless for the proverbial wolves).

I haven't been back to check on it. I'm afraid I'll find a tiny carcass and I would rather believe that it is, instead, flying happily with other doves, falling in love, and naming its little dove babies after us.

And, yes, seeing a hunky man encouraging the baby bird in his hand to fly is the sexiest thing ever. Except maybe getting a view of his backside when he's wearing his motorcycle chaps. It's a toss up.

Have you rescued an animal? Or do you prefer chapped butts (wait...that didn't come out right....)?

Have you been there?

PSA: Getting Your Car Appraised is the Kiss of Death

This is a public service announcement about getting your car appraised because THIS is what will happen:


The Husband and I got his big, beautiful F350 appraised on Thursday. We originally bought it because we thought we were moving to CO and needed lots of power to haul things in the mountains. Since we didn't move, and our area of Texas has no mountains, we wanted to explore the possibility of selling or trading the truck for something a little more economical and Texas-friendly. (By the way, because TH always gives me shit about the mountains in Texas, I'm here to tell you there ARE mountains in Texas and I have climbed the highest one -- Guadalupe Peak. So there, TH! Nanny nanny boo boo!) We went to Car Max because they'll give you that "no hassle" appraisal. It was a reasonable (wholesale) estimate and we shopped for cars within that budget. As we left the showroom, the sales woman (who is apparently an evil sorceress) told us the offer would be good for seven days.....as long as we didn't get into a wreck. It was at that precise moment that the curse was cast and we were screwed.


The Husband, The Princess and I planned a quick trip to Waco (about 1.5 hours south) to visit family. Had we known the events that were to transpire, we would have stayed home. We were trailing the motorcycles down with us so we could spend some time riding the back roads near Waco with our cousin. TH left early (the day AFTER the appraisal curse) to get the trailer for the bikes. On his way, some asshole in front of him made a quick, non-signaled U turn (un-signaled? dis-signaled? In other words, the motherfucker never considered using his turn signal.....nor did he stop afterward to see if everyone was alright), forcing TH to slam on his brakes, which caused the screaming man behind him to run into the back of our recently-cursed truck. BLAM! Big F250 hits bigger F350. Even though it looked like the damage to our truck was minimal, ANY damage was unwelcome. But it was drive-able, so we continue with our plans, load up the bikes, and head south. The truck was definitely NOT the satin smooth ride it was prior to the curse. TH thinks the frame may be bent and will take it to the Ford dealership to have their inspectors look it over.


The rest of the trip was great.....hanging with family, zipping around on the backroads.....until the drive home. First, TH left his wallet back at our relatives' home.  Luckily we had stopped on the north side of town to check the bikes and get gas, so the little return trip only added about thirty minutes to our drive. No big deal. Then there was a noticeable shimmy that grew progressively worse.....kinda like watching a drunk woman who thinks she's hot stuff on the dance floor. We pull over again and discover that one of the straps holding my bike has been shimmied in half. At least it was the outer strap, rather than the inner one, because the bike stayed on the trailer. TH uses the strap holding the back wheel and replaces the broken strap on the handlebars.


So we're driving along.....we've made it to the south side of Fort Worth.....almost home. UNTIL.....we see my bike, AGAIN, flop over like it's going to fall into oncoming highway traffic, and right itself. TH pulls over but we are on the two foot wide inside shoulder.....on IH 35.....with cars zipping by at lightening speed. TH, ever the gentleman, suggests that I stay on the inside of the shoulder and/or jump toward the wall in case a car careens into us. Oh, and while I'm at it, would I please alert him if someone tries to run into him as well? Sure....no problem. I'm rather fond of him and would like to keep him around for awhile, so I play the part of lookout. In my duties, I notice that the trailer seems to lean a little, which I mention to TH, but I figure it's because we're on a slight incline. WRONG! Apparently, the little hiccup that almost sent my bike flying into the traffic was a flat tire on the trailer. 


We pull into a little convenience store thinking air might help, but realize the tire is shredded. Trust me, no amount of air was going to get that tire moving again. By this time, we've been on the road about 2 hours (remember, it's only an hour and a half or less to Waco). We call some friends to rescue us (it's about 11 at night....in a not-so-great part of town), which they did. We left the trailer, our friend drove the truck, and we rode our bikes, finally arriving home around 11:30. Our 1.5 hour trip turned into a three hour trip with all kinds of scary shit along the way. But we made it home safe and sound.....and so did the bikes. Whew!


The moral of this story: DON'T get your car or truck appraised. It will be cursed. You have been warned.


They say bad stuff comes in three's. Have you experienced a series of "uh oh's", "oh shit's" and "oh nooooo's!" all in a row?


Have you been there?


P.S. All humor aside, we are incredibly grateful for God's grace and protection. It could have been bad....really bad. Deo gratias!

I'm Fooked Up and Famous!

Hey there, guys and gals! Just a quickie to let you know I'm over at all Fooked Up today for Lynn's weekly "Go Ahead, Amuse Me" post. Way cool, huh? Go check out her site -- it's a good 'un! She's hilarious!  I'll have a new post......eventually. It's been a busy week and we have a busy weekend ahead of us (and I've started my new novel! Eeeeeeee!!!), but I haven't forgotten about you. Have a wonderful weekend. In the inimitable words of Ahnuld: I'll be back!

Happy Mother's Day!

I have two biological children, which means I get to celebrate tomorrow. I told The Husband that I didn't want to cook anything or do any dishes. Anything else would be gravy.

Twenty-five years ago, I was a new mother to a precious daughter (a.k.a. Sweet Angel). She was born the day after Christmas and was about four months old for my first "official" Mother's Day. I adored her but I was terrified I'd break her. I obsessed about hurting her (unintentionally!). Now that I understand that thoughts become things, I did drop her, in a self-fulfilling prophesy. I was holding her (carefully) and she arched her back. Then she did this s-l-o-w motion back flip out of my hands, head-over-feet, and I'm standing there, in horror, watching. I swear it took minutes for her to reach the carpet....on her back....and just fine. Whew! She managed to live through the rest of her childhood as well, in spite of her bumbling mother. 

Five years later, her brother (a.k.a. Sweet Boy) was born. He was an active baby from the get-go. My doctor had to hold him down to get an accurate sonogram. For a very long week, the doc and I thought he might be twins because there was so much movement. Trust me, one was enough. I nursed Sweet Angel until she weaned herself at seven months. It was always a lovely time of togetherness for us. She just laid there, calmly getting nourishment. My son, however, was like a puppy with a sock. He'd latch on and start wiggling and moving everywhere. In addition, I got mastitis -- twice. Anyone who's had it knows it's very painful. After my second infection, he went on the bottle. He, too, has survived to adulthood, I'm happy to report.


I also have a wonderful step-son who is great at everything; he shall be named The Superstar. He works for an airline and flies free so, although we are a couple of states apart, we get the pleasure of his company frequently. And, you've recently met The Princess.  Suffice it to say, I qualify for a day free of cooking and dishes (and if there were some flowers and chocolate thrown in.....well, I wouldn't complain. Just sayin'.)


Whether you're a biological mom, step-mom, mom-to-be, or surrogate mom, Happy Mother's Day!


Have you enjoyed and/or survived the joys and challenges of parenthood?


Have you been there?

It's a Girl!

Meet The Princess!

The Husband and I have a wonderful new addition to our family. Our niece from Austin has moved in with us because she wants a new life for herself. She is a beautiful, bright and courageous teenager, and the plan is to hang onto her until she graduates from high school.


In many ways, The Princess, as she will be known here, is a typical teenager: phone glued to her ear, looking up music on the computer while watching TV -- definitely plugged IN. She loves clothes, shoes, shopping and mani-pedis like most other sixteen year olds. She's a ball of energy and is my self-appointed personal trainer as I work on getting into better shape (other than "round").


But I'm most impressed with her strength, bravery and foresight. She has more wisdom at sixteen than I did at thirty. She could see the road before her if she stayed in Austin and knew she didn't want that to be her life's path. She wanted something different for herself and we hope to give it to her. Her friends and family miss her, but many of them encourage and support her to take this opportunity and run with it. Still, it took a lot of courage and faith on her part to make the move to a place she'd never been, with people she's known only a few months.


The Princess jumped into her new life with both feet. Her enthusiasm for new adventures and a new life is impressive. She willingly joined the youth group at church and is already signed up to attend a rally in June. She actively looks for ways to improve her life by asking lots of questions and making better choices. She delights in learning new things, like cooking, and having new experiences, like riding a motorcycle (yes, we've already corrupted her in that area). She's taking on new chores with joy (and no reminders!!). 


We are so proud of her decision to improve her life and are thrilled that she's doing it with us. 


Have you had the privilege of watching a teenager grow and change? Or have you made big, possibly scary, changes in the hope of turning your own life around?


Have you been there?

5/7/09 = Odd Day and Our Anniversary....How Fitting!

Yep, this is us. Sure is. Absolutely.

The Husband and I were married on Odd Day, mainly because it would be an easy one to remember, and the judge was available. It was also a last minute decision. Not the getting married part, just the actual day itself.

As a semi-sorta-kinda joke, I texted TH on or about the 4th or 5th (probably/maybe the 6th) that, since we were going to see family for Mother's Day, wouldn't it be fun to surprise everyone with good news.....like a marriage. Our marriage.

Sure, he texted back.

Sure? Really?!? I had the courthouse on speed dial (just in case) and called for an appointment with the judge and office hours for the license. Later, we ducked into Walmart for rings (yes, Walmart.....we sorta forgot to buy them earlier.....'cuz it wasn't about the jewelry; it was about our life together). Eeeeeeeee!!

On The Day, we were meeting at the courthouse. I dealt with teenagers all day. TH went for a motorcycle ride.....to think. He wound around some back roads and found himself at a restaurant/bar on the lake, so he stopped in for a beer. The truth was, we were both happy with our individual, independent lives, and had to consider whether or not we wanted to give that up (we did.....obviously). Apparently he needed that ride (and maybe the beer)....just to be sure. 

We arrived at our appointed time, presented our paperwork, and met our judge....who also happened to be a biker. Good thing, because TH was a little short on cash for our fee (remember the beer?). The judge waived the shortage in true biker spirit, and she promptly married us.

We have found that, because we were happy in our single lives, with ourselves as individuals, we are even better together. Our times are full of love and laughter (and motorcycles). And our anniversary dinner is always at the little restaurant/bar on the lake.


Maybe our wedding was a little odd....maybe we're a little odd....but we're happy (and odd) together!

What was your wedding day like? Any other odd anniversaries?

Have you been there?

An Issue of Vital Importance

I must address a troubling issue. It is vitally important and may very well cure cancer, solve world hunger, and bring peace to our people. 

How often do you wash your towels? The ones you use after you bathe. Those towels. Some people wash them after a use or two.  I urge you to give serious thought to the events that transpire before you answer this critical question. 


You've just come out of the tub or shower. Your entire purpose in there was to clean your hair and/or body. Clean....as in no dirt, no sweat, no nothin' except.....well, cleanliness. You step out, dripping with clean water and dry yourself with a towel. The towel isn't dirty afterward, just a little wet. It'll dry.....but it'll still be clean because you left all the dirt and other crap behind to go down the drain and out into the world. It isn't on you anymore, therefore and ergo, it won't be on the towel when you're done, right? Which means the towel itself isn't dirty because you can't transfer something you don't have. Since the towel is still clean, there's no need to wash it. Am I right? Never mind....I know I am.

And yet, people want to wash them anyway.

Granted, they probably have dust or dead skin cells or bug parts (or whatever else floats around in the air) on them, but that would happen when they're sitting in the linen closet too.  If you want clean (completely, totally, really clean) towels to dry yourself with, you should wash it immediately before you bathe, run it through the clothes dryer, then dry yourself. I'll admit, warm towels out of the dryer are pretty nice, but it sounds like a lot of work to me. However, if you insist on towels at the apex of their cleanliness cycle, that's the way to do it. I'm pretty sure that the CDC or FDA or someone has done a study that confirms this.


The other bathroom decision has to do with toilet paper, but truly, that's a no-brainer. It goes over, not under, for those of you who may be sadly unaware. Then all you have to do is kinda whack the roll on the top and -- voila! -- toilet paper, unrolled and ready for business. You know....your business.


How often do you wash your towels? Do you, or someone you know and love, think that they are dirty after a use or two?


Have you been there?