Another Year Older…Dang It.

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My 44th birthday is coming up this month. When I was in my 20’s, being in my 40’s seemed to be SO FAR OFF. Holy cow. When the heck did this happen?

On my mother’s last birthday, my 93 year old grandmother asked how old she was. My mother, who we call “Ninny” replied, “Well how old do you THINK I am?” My grandmother thought for a few moments and said “42?” My mother told her she was CORRECT. (Ninny later told me that she doesn’t want my grandmother to really know how old my mother is because then my grandmother will realize that she is 93!)

Birthdays have always been so much fun for me. I’ve always loved them – no matter whose birthday it is. And now that I’m older, when I look back it seems like something crazy always happens on my birthday.

On the day I turned 18, I was a fun loving college student at Mississippi State University. I was so excited because back in 1986 if you were 18, you were of legal drinking age. Unfortunately for me the VERY NEXT DAY – October 1st, the drinking age changed to 21. And there was no grandfathering. So I was legal for 24 hours and then I couldn’t drink legally for another THREE years. Talk about a buzz kill.

On my 25th birthday I was married and six months pregnant. On my 30th birthday I was going through a very bitter, two-year divorce and custody battle.

I spent my 35th birthday at the hospital with Ninny while my father was having surgery for Melanoma. Halfway during the day, mom looked over at me and said “Oh! It’s your birthday!” Then she smirked and sing-said “Ha-ha-ha You’re 35 years old!!!” I just smiled at her and said “Well, at least I can say that I don’t have a 35 YEAR OLD DAUGHTER.” SCORE for the smart ass daughter.

On my 40th birthday I went to dinner with a nice fellow but found out a few days later that he was interested in pursuing someone else. Apparently my competition was not another girl.

My birthdays are starting to get better though. On my 41st birthday, I was on day 4 of my honeymoon. How awesome is that? Wedding cake + birthday cake = heaven.

Birthdays 42 & 43 were both spent with my sweet hubby at the Biltmore Estate in North Carolina. For my 44th? I’ve been told it’s a surprise, but it better involve cake!

I still have 49 more years to go until I make it to my grandmother’s age.

And as much craziness as I’ve had over my last 44 birthdays, I will be thrilled if the next 44 are just as fun…because at least that will mean I have lived until at least age 88.

Dang it. I just realized I’m already halfway there.

I just opened a birthday card & a dollar fell out. Oh how I love birthdays!

September 11 – Inspiration From Adversity

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Each morning I get up around 6:45 and make sure my step-son is getting up and ready for school. I make breakfast for him and get his lunch box together. Then his carpool ride arrives and on most days, I head on back to sleep. I am usually still up until 1 or 2AM every night so 6:45 comes fast.

Tuesday morning of this week was no different than the usual except for one thing…Tuesday was September 11, and marked the 11th anniversary of the attacks on America.

My husband works from home also, but on Tuesday he got up early to do some work with his father. I highly contemplated going back to sleep but as my snuggley warm bed called out to me, I thought about all of the women who went back to sleep after their kids left for school. As their husbands were getting ready for work, they missed what turned out to be the last opportunity to eat breakfast and spend some time just being together. So I put my house-coat and fuzzy slippers back on and shuffled into the kitchen.

It made me really think – how often do we take for granted the time we spend with our loved ones? Who knows when the last breakfast will be? The last kiss good-bye? The opportunity to tell someone we love them? Or just waving at your spouse from the kitchen door as he drives away?

I can’t imagine what the 9/11 women (or men for that matter) would give for a do-over of that horrible morning.

I need to do better so I decided Tuesday morning that l would include in my daily or weekly schedule as much as the following as possible:

Being thankful for my life and the lives of my friends and family… Saying “I love you” as often as possible without getting annoying… Hugging my kids and husband tightly every opportunity I have… Writing letters to my 93 year old grandmother since she can’t hear me when I call on the phone… Calling my parents even though they only live 20 minutes away… Writing my sister an e-mail to let her know what’s going on in my life instead of having her read it on Facebook… Getting together with my girlfriends… Reading more books no matter what the topic is… Creating new recipes for my step-son who has a gluten allergy… Watching sci-fi movies (that I can’t stand) with my husband just because he loves them… Playing cards with my step-daughter and not calling it quits after just one game… Driving three hours one way just to have lunch with my college student because I miss him… Standing up for my political beliefs and using my right as an American to vote… Running three miles every single day and actually looking forward to it… Going back to church each week and maybe getting up the nerve to sing in the choir…

Sounds like a New Year’s resolution list, but for me it’s something that I really need to do.

We have all heard how nice it would be if we all lived like there was no tomorrow. It is clearly easier said than done or else it would already be happening. But if it did happen, people might generally be nicer and people across the world could hold hands…yadda yadda yadda. More than likely that is not ever going to happen.

But at my house, it will.

And in it’s own tiny way, it’s a start.

Adventures In Backyard Camping

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I have been an outdoorsy kind of girl my entire life. Growing up, we didn’t take fancy vacations to other countries or exotic locations. Instead, my dad, mom, sister and I would go camping up at DeSoto Falls in the north Georgia mountains. Catching salamanders, hiking up to the water falls, hearing the rain on the roof of the tent, and telling scary stories around the campfire are some of the memories that I cherish the most. After my divorce, I started taking my son camping regularly at DeSoto Falls. I wanted him to experience the same fun adventures I had growing up –WITHOUT his Xbox, cell phone or any other electronics. We were primitive camping, which means a tent, no electricity, and no running water.

My husband, Dale had not been camping in 20 years when we first met three years ago. During our first year of marriage we took a camping trip to DeSoto Falls where I had spent so many of my younger years. I still laugh about the look on his face as I set up the tent (by myself), along with the picnic tent (also set up by myself). I must say though that he was able to uncork the wine bottle with the efficiency of a pro.

Since Dale had not been camping in years, his children had never been exposed to what it is like sleeping outside under the stars. We really wanted to share the adventure with them so we started off slow and decided to do a trial camping adventure with the kids by having a camp out in the back yard. If all went well, we would advance to camping in the mountains.

I got the tent set up along with the air mattress, sheets & blankets. I set up camp chairs around the outdoor fireplace (and actually found firewood at the Home Depot even though it was August.) I filled up the outdoor lantern and got the little table set out so we could play cards. I brought marshmallows, graham crackers and chocolate to make s’mores over the fire. Finally, it was dusk and we brought the kids outside.

Everyone was so excited about our newest adventure. We played what seemed like the longest running Uno game in the history of the earth. We roasted marshmallows for our s’mores, which was even more interesting since my step-son has a gluten allergy, and we attempted to make s’mores for him using gluten free animal cookies instead of graham crackers. (It works, but it’s very sticky!)

It started getting late and it was time to wind down and get to sleep. Everyone climbed in the tent and got settled in. The kids were fast asleep within minutes. The adults? Well, let’s just say that the sound of air-conditioning units going on and off do not equate to the sound of quiet and crickets you get in the mountains. Teenagers flying through the neighborhood with their music blasting, trying to get home before their curfew is not necessarily equal to the sound of a babbling brook that lulls you to sleep. And did I mention that it was still August? In Georgia? And still 87 degrees out after midnight?

After the initial giggling between me and Dale of “what could possibly happen next” the dog next door started barking…and we called it a night. We grabbed the kids and took them inside to their rooms, and then we sleepy-staggered into our bedroom.

And it was a good thing. Because the greatest thing about backyard camping is that an actual bathroom is only steps away and you don’t run the risk of getting poison ivy on your butt from peeing in the woods. (THAT is a true story.)

We made the fun photo above using StoryMark – download for free in the iPhone app store or Android market.

It’s All Greek To Me

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My college student has officially started rush week. My husband and I have both told him that this week will be one of the most fun parts of his college years. And for him, it’s only the beginning.

Even though it’s been well over 20 years ago, I can still smell the hazy cigarette smoke and stale spilled beer throughout the Sigma Alpha Epsilon house at Mississippi State University. I was lucky enough to be invited and initiated as a “Little Sister of Minerva”, or an SAE Little Sister.

I’m convinced that Kurt Cobain copied the grunge style from the SAE’s at Mississippi State. They were way ahead of their fashion time with their long stringy hair with the occasional mullet (hey – it was the 80’s!), and disintegrating t-shirts saying “You Can’t Spell State Without SAE!”

The house was probably one of the strangest on Fraternity Row. For some reason someone thought that a very plain, two story rectangular, red brick building would look better by adding a church-like addition (minus the steeple). Nestled in with the Southern Plantation, white columned style homes of Kappa Alpha, Pike, and Kappa Sig houses, the SAE house stood out like a sore thumb. Besides the fact that the house looked like an old gas station, an eclectic mix of sofas and chairs were usually strewn out in the front yard along with the previous night’s beer bottles and empty solo cups. Are you having visions of “Animal House” yet? If so, you’re right on track.

Dancing to a live band playing “Brown Eyed Girl”, or sitting on the roof watching the sun rise (and laughing at girls trying to sneak out of the frat house in the wee hours of the morning), or the Little Sister/Big Brother Wine & Cheese party, or dressing up as a 1920’s gangster’s widow during Paddy Murphy week. These are just slivers of my fun memories.

And now my son Matthew is going through rush. I don’t care what fraternity he chooses to pledge, I just want him to pick the one that fits his personality the best. And the most important thing I hope he gets from going through rush is realizing the lifelong friends he will make. Many of the friends on my Facebook page are my SAE big brothers…and I was just a little sister! The depth of lifelong brotherhood that he will be a part of upon joining a fraternity is immeasurable.

And although I know he’s going to have fun, I hope he realizes that there are some things he should and should not do. I won’t name names here, but holding a pizza guy hostage for more pizza probably isn’t the smartest thing to ever do, but keeping beer in the coke machine? That, my dear brothers, was BRILLIANT!!!

I made the fun photo above using StoryMark. For more information, visit http://www.storymarklife.com or download for free in the iPhone app store or Android Market.

I Look Great But You’re Losing Your Hair

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I started participating triathlons after a very bad relationship breakup…the kind of relationship where I thought “Woo-Hoo!! I’m gonna marry this guy” and I started scribbling my name with his last name like a high school kid.

Annnnnd then it didn’t happen. Not only did it not happen, but I found myself completely opposite of where I pictured myself. I found myself alone. Not married, but completely ALONE.

So after a month long diet of wine, cookies, wine, ice-cream, wine and pasta, I decided to give up the carbs and get in really good shape. I thought, “That’ll show him. When we bump into each other in the future, he’s going to go “DAMNNNN. I screwed up.” At least that’s what I had hoped he’d be saying. So instead of just joining a gym, I went the extreme route…I signed up for the IronGirl triathlon, and so my training began.

Before I signed up, I don’t think I had really considered the distance that is involved in a triathlon. I hadn’t thought about the fact that I would have to swim 600 yards, then bike 18 miles, then run a 5k. Much too late, I realized that 600 yards is the equivalent to 6 football fields. 18 miles is equal to 72 times around a high school track, and a 5k would be like hiking up, down and back up Stone Mountain. And I was going to have to do this not in just a day, but in less than 2 hours.

Let’s be serious. I’m 43 years old. I’m never going to win a medal in the Olympics so I truly don’t care about my time. I’m not going to break any records except for possibly having the highest number of last place finishes in history. Immediately following the race, many of my friends will run to the timing sheets and anxiously scan their race numbers to find their time. Me? What do I care? It’s not like I’m going to put my race finish time on FaceBook. Can’t you see my status: “Finished my triathlon – came in 600th place, out of 600!!!”

My first triathlon 2007

With each race my primary goal is to not drown during the swim, not hit a pothole with my bike and end up with a massive head injury, and not to have a heart attack during the run portion. Instead I just want to finish the race and get my t-shirt confirming that I have participated in and lived through a triathlon.

Skip forward a few IronGirl tri’s and local sprint competitions, in which I didn’t come in last place by the way. I realized that it wasn’t important for me to get in shape and do these tri’s to impress someone else. It was for me. I was having a great time, getting in fantastic shape, meeting new people and finding out that I was much stronger than I ever imagined that I could be. And you know what else I found out? Having confidence can be very attractive!

And you know what I’ll say if ever I run into that old ex-boyfriend who inspired me to kick start the inner athletic goddess in me?

“Eat your heart out…and by the way, you’re losing your hair.”

My most recent triathlon 2012

Home Really Is Where Your Mom Is

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Is this really happening?

I found myself standing in my son’s room today. Not in a creepy watching-him-as-he’s-sleeping kind of way. Just standing there, looking around at all of his posters tacked to the walls. I see the “Captain” stripes on his letter jacket gently strewn across the chair. Prom pictures of him and his girlfriend are stapled to the wall by his bed.

But something is different: He is leaving for college.

His Pink Floyd, Dave Matthews & Beatles posters are rolled up neatly with a rubber band keeping them safe. His guitar stand is sitting by the door and his guitar is nestled comfortably in it’s hard case. Two big brown boxes sit by the door filled with his lava lamp, some clothes, his x-box, favorite pillows and his Mac. There are no dirty boxer shorts or t-shirts tossed on the floor. There aren’t any empty Dr. Pepper cans on the bedside table. The TV is off.

And the lump that has been growing in my throat for the past three months is suddenly about to burst. He looks over at me and I realize that I’m about to lose it. I exclaim that I need to go stir the spaghetti sauce that has been simmering on the stove for the past three hours. I race down the stairs, bypassing the kitchen altogether, hoping that I can make it to my bedroom before the tears start to flow. Once the sniffles start, it’s a dead giveaway.

Where did the time go? Wasn’t it just yesterday that he couldn’t wait to ride the bus to school for his first day of kindergarten? Wasn’t it just last week that he found a hair under his armpit –( yes that was meant to be singular)? Didn’t he just grow out of the kid’s department at Abercrombie & Fitch?

Matthew’s First Day of Kindergarten

I watched him grow from a funny and animated little boy into a kind and independent man. He took care of his “mama” after his dad and I divorced, and ultimately became the “man of the house”. Over the next ten years, it was just me and him. I went to every school event – talent shows, teacher conferences, and just about every single hockey game, and of course I was always the loudest mom there. I even took him and his friends on a very memorable camping trip (they didn’t realize that I could hear them talking about Pamela Anderson’s boobs through the paper thin tent walls).

State Hockey Champs 2011

When I finally met my husband, my son carefully “gave me away” at the wedding, knowing that he would eventually be leaving for college and that I had found a wonderful husband to love and share my life with.

Why does this hurt so much? I remember being his exact same age and heading off to college. I was so excited – just as he is. I know what’s in store for him and I am filled with joy knowing he is going to have such an amazing experience. I’ve given him all of the advice about studying hard, and have even given him the speech that “I’m too young to be a grandma.” I know that this is just the beginning of the rest of his life. But as a mom it’s still a bitter pill to swallow.

So as I stand here looking around his room, the lump in my throat comes back and my eyes start to tear up again. I realize that all of his memories from his younger years are either being left behind or packed away in boxes to take with him. I hope that he knows he will take something else with him that’s even more fragile than his beloved Beatle’s Blue Album…

He’ll take his mother’s heart with him.

Life Is So Much Better With Your Friends

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The 1980’s were such an incredibly colorful and fun time to grow up in. We all had big hair that made us appear three inches taller than we actually were because it was so teased and poofed up like a rooster crown. Our clothes were made up of big, baggy neon shirts with low hanging belts, printed or acid washed jeans, colorful pumps with lace socks, and fingerless lace gloves a la Madonna. Jewelry consisted of earrings that each weighed the equivalent to a TV remote control, Swatch watches, and hundreds of jelly bracelets in every color imaginable that went halfway up our arms. And don’t even get me started on rabbit fur jackets. I wanted one so bad but I got a faux fur jacket instead. Do you know the difference between a real rabbit fur jacket and a fake one? One feels soft and snuggly while the other feels like you took the built up hair out of your hairbrush and made it into a coat. Definitely not the same. (But then I found out how rabbit fur jackets were made and I was glad I had a faux one.)

AND GOOD GRIEF – THE MAKEUP! We would wear purple or blue eye shadow and then line our eyes with darker shades of more purple or blue and we would end up looking like the daughters of Dr. Frank-N-Furter from the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Mascara would be applied in so many layers that it looked like tarantula legs were stuck to our eyelids. Blush was always applied in a dark stripe across the cheekbones, and foundation was so thick that a chisel was the only way we could take it off. Maybelline must have made a killing in the 80’s.

High school is where I spent my time during the 80’s. It’s normally a place that most people try to purge from their memory. For me, it’s the time in my life where I had a really bad overbite that was trying to be rectified with braces. …and not the cool colored kind they have today. Mine were shiny metal and unfortunately for my popularity status, I also had to wear rubber bands and headgear. Anyone that doesn’t know what headgear is clearly did not grow up in the 1980’s. I am confident that somewhere there was a demented orthodontist that created a metal torture device called headgear that you had to clip around your head that other othodontists could use for their own merriment.

But back to high school. It’s where I tried but completely failed at having a Farrah Faucett hairdo. It’s where I had crushes on boys that didn’t know I even existed, most likely because I had a chest flatter than a 10 year old boy.

But while the 80’s are home to some of my most embarrassing memories, it’s also when some of my best memories were made of growing up. I made some of my best friends while cheerleading for the basketball team, dancing across the football field at half time with the drill team (squeeze the marble, girls!), and of course, I made friends in my classes.

My best friends, however, were a group of girls I bonded with like no others. Somewhere along the line, we started calling ourselves “The Hatundas”… I don’t know where it came from or what it meant, but it sounded funny and we thought it was wicked. We would be heading to the latest football game, acting so cool in our class-after-class-hand-me-down polyester uniforms while sitting in the back of the bus screaming “Hail to Hatunda” and “Back of the bus forever!!!” The other girls would just look at us like they should redirect the bus driver away from the football game, and instead head on over to the local mental institution and schedule us for individual lobotomies. We didn’t care. We were just having fun and acting stupid. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do in high school?

After graduation, the Hatundas all went our separate ways and ended up at different colleges. Some got married and had babies, others traveled all over, and some started jobs in the corporate world. Over the years we tried to get together but it wasn’t until our 25th high school reunion that we really realized how much we missed seeing each other and how much we still really needed each other. Plus we realized we were getting old. And when the day comes that you realize you’re getting old, it’s a bad, bad day.

We have started getting together every other month for dinner and I look forward to each time like a kid looking forward to Christmas morning. Knowing that I am going to reminisce, laugh and talk with the girls who helped shape my life is priceless to me. The endless bags of taco-flavored Doritos, late night pizza and Dr. Pepper menu has changed to Tapas and Mojitos and wine. The conversation has also changed from who were we going to the Prom with, skanky girls that hit on our boyfriends, passing the test to finally get out driver’s license, and curfews… to our husbands midlife lack of hair confidence, the gross time when our son’s figured out what their willie’s do, and simply how hard it is raising kids. Our clothing is much better as well, but the giggles have a tendency to stay the same – especially at the stupid way our kids wear their hair and the way they dress, since the 80’s style is coming back around full circle.

I love these ex-Madonna wanna-be’s with all of my heart and wouldn’t trade my lifelong membership in the
Hatunda’s for anything in this world.

So, Hail to you, Hatunda! WHATEVER that means.

Do you stay in touch with your high school friends? Share your story!

We made the fun photo below using StoryMark – download for free in the iPhone app store and Android Marketplace

http://www.blogdash.com/full_profile/?claim_code=82826f1a7ae056c8819c407bf0b602cd

Don’t Judge A Book By Its Go-Go Boots or Letter Sweater

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Today was actually a really great day. Not because anything super-interesting happened. It’s just that my husband and I took MY parents and HIS parents out to lunch. Yes, you read that correctly. My parents. His parents. Us. We went to lunch to-geth-er. Without any special occasion where we HAD to get together. No birthdays. No anniversaries. Just lunch, and we meant to do it.

Most people seem to either really like or simply hate their in-laws. When I was married before, my in-laws and I got along with each other but that was about it. It’s not like my ex-in-laws were mutants or anything. We just didn’t “get” each other. For some reason my FIL called me “Meg” because he once said I looked like Meg Ryan. (Disclaimer: I was married to his son long before Meg had all of that plastic surgery that made her look like a fish, so I have always taken his calling me Meg as a compliment and not an insinuation that I look like Nemo.)

Fast forward several years – I am now married to a great man, Dale, who truly has the most wonderful parents, whose style and personalities growing up could not be on more opposite sides of the spectrum from my parents, who are also pretty wonderful.

For many years, Dale’s father was the President of a record company. His parents met when his mom was working at a record store and his dad walked in. He says he made a cat-call whistle in his mind when he looked at her, and asked her out. They got married during lunch one day after he said “Hey, wanna go get married today?” so they did. He had a big scruffy beard, smoked cigarettes, and wore clothes that were either made of leather or polyester and usually had some kind of fringe hanging off. She wore hot pants and halter tops with white patent leather knee-high go-go boots & big hoop earrings. In other words, they were hippie fabulous.

My parents were equally as fabulous but were considered to be more on the more conservative side. My parents met in college and after getting married in a small Southern Baptist church, my mom became a teacher and my dad joined the military, went on to law school and eventually became a Judge. (That resulted in my very strict upbringing, but that too is another story). My mom, Ninny, wore full skirts and shirts with Peter Pan collars, and my dad was the “Hey, want to wear my letter sweater” kind of guy. You get the picture.

Before getting married, my husband and I got our parents together for a “trial run” before the wedding just to make sure there wouldn’t be any crazy interactions at the reception. You would think that two sets of adults that had such different lifestyles for years would not be able to carry on a normal conversation, but when these four people met it was like they had been friends since birth. They laughed. They told jokes. They liked each other immediately. I was relieved.

Watching them interact together makes me understand that we all have the opportunity to be great friends with people who don’t normally “fit” with us…but ones whose friendships could become our greatest and most treasured gifts.

We went to a fantastic new restaurant today to have our annual Christmas lunch – yes, I know its July, but for various reasons we had not been able to get together until now. The restaurant was called Antebellum in Flowery Branch, GA (yep – that’s a plug because it was THAT DARN GOOD), and the menu was full of wonderful Southern fare that makes your arteries close up a bit and your blood pressure elevate just by reading the menu. We laughed and stuffed ourselves silly on fried green tomatoes, pimento cheeseburgers, sweet potato fries, and Jack Daniels bread pudding. (Seriously – this chef is a GENIUS. Jack Daniels in a dessert? Good grief I love the South). Yes, please. I’ll have another.

The conversation was all over the place: We talked about how viruses can spread on a cruise ship since it’s like a floating petri dish; how to keep those damn squirrels from gnawing holes in your tomatoes; and how my mom unintentionally-on-purpose uses her middle finger to adjust her glasses when she thinks you’re doing something idiotic, silently giving you the bird without you always catching on.

And as I sat back and watched my mother lovingly fight a fork dual with my husband for the last bite of peach dessert with lavender ice-cream, I was reminded of how lucky I am that I have two Moms as well as two Dads that I absolutely adore, and who are equally quirky and unintentionally hilarious. The go-go boots and letter sweaters are long gone and are replaced with bifocals and more comfortable shoes, but the laughter and love remains the same, and I can quite honestly say that my life just can’t get any more blessed than this.

Do you and your in-laws get along? Share your story!

I made the fun photos above using StoryMark – download for free in the iPhone app store and Android Marketplace

And be sure to check out www.antebellumrestaurant.com for more information on the incredible restaurant we visited.

Should I Pack The Kitchen Sink Too?

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It’s Saturday morning and I wake up and realize that OMG – I promised the kids we would go to the pool today. I had come up with a gazillion great excuses during the week but today it is warm and sunny…and no rain in sight. Thanks a lot weather.com.

Drats. I’m stuck.

Kids don’t realize that you just don’t hop in the car and head on over to the pool or water park. Those clean towels and drinks and snacks and sunscreen and toys and floats and chairs don’t just magically appear in the car.  Someone had to get everything together and put it there.

Then once you get to your destination, be it a beach, a pool or the lake, someone has to set everything up. There are bodies to be sprayed and noses to be covered with sunscreen, floaties to be blown up, pool toys and sand buckets and goggles to be found and handed out.

Finally, when all is complete then I sit down and open my book to page four…the exact place where I left off the last time we were here.

Ahhh. I can finally relax. I settle down into the lounge chair, close my eyes for a brief moment and feel the sun beating down on me when I suddenly realize that I forgot to put sunscreen on myself.  About that same time I hear the sound of the lifeguard’s shrill whistle and him call out “adult swim!”   Suddenly the kids climb out of the pool and state that they are starving, all the while dripping all over my nice dry towel and book.  Never mind that we just ate lunch moments before we left the house, everyone is acting like they haven’t eaten in a week.

I hand out crackers and cheese and Capri Suns and water and right before they’re finished the lifeguards blow their whistles again and state that adult swim is over. The kids drop everything and start to head out like a stampede of buffalo until I yell for everyone come back and take their trash to the can. They slowly come back each one not wanting to claim the trash that ended up on the ground. The rule is – no one goes in the pool until the trash is gone so it finally disappears.

Ahhhh. Back to relaxation. I start back on page two because I’ve now forgotten what the book was about. I get to page four again when I hear someone crying. Uh oh. I look up from my book.  It’s the dreaded water-up-the-nose scream. I do my best to calm the victim and after a while she slowly heads back to the water and I turn back to my book, about which time I see a tiny drop of water soaking into the tender paper and spreading out like a virus. Then another. Tiny little sprinkles. No big deal. I can handle some sprinkles.  I read another page. Did I just hear thunder or am I just imagining it? I look towards the lifeguard stand and see that the lifeguard hasn’t seemed to notice. I begin to relax a little.  Then I hear it again and this time the life guard does too because his whistle is in his mouth already.  “Thunder. Everybody out of the pool.” I look towards the sky. It looks like Storm from X-Men has been here. The sky is getting darker and darker.   Where did this come from?

The kids stagger up and I distribute towels and flip flops.  I collect goggles, ear plugs, & toys.  I let the air out of the floaties and start to pack up.  Hopefully we can get to the car before the bottom falls out.

When I get home I’ve got to empty the cooler, put away snacks, wash and dry towels and bathing suits, and then I can finally take a shower.

And as I’m soaping up my hair I realize that dang it….I never even got to chapter two.

I used www.storymarklife.com to create the photo above.  Download for free in the iPhone app store or Android Marketplace.

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Star Wars vs. Nicholas Sparks. Who would win?

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By Dana McIntyre @DanaMcIntyre1

My husband, Dale and I are very similar in so many ways – that’s what really attracted us to each other. We both love to camp, participate in triathlons, and so many other things. His parents have been married for 38 years, mine for 52. We both share the same religion, are non-smokers, and have the exact same political views.
But when it comes to movies, we are on complete opposite sides of the RedBox. I am a hopeless romantic so I’ve always loved movies like “When Harry Met Sally” and “The Wedding Date.” But I also love rough and tough movie like “Slap Shot” and “Gladiator.”

My husband however, loves action movies and…wait for it…..sci-fi. And I mean ANTHING sci-fi. Star Wars. Star Trek. Tron. Flash Gordon. If it has the word “Universe” or “Droid” or “Legion” in the trailer, then it is on his list of movies to watch. (Please don’t get me wrong though. I know a LOT of people like sci-fi…It’s just not for me.)

One afternoon Dale and I were kidding around and he started quoting something from Star Wars. I was completely lost. What the heck is a Boba Fett? Why would I know any of that? He started to clue in when my eyes started rolling back into my head.

“WHAT?” he said. “You have never seen STAR WARS??? Not ‘The Empire Strikes Back?’ Not the ‘Phantom Menace?’ NOTHING???”

Unknowingly, I had committed the cardinal sin of being a software programmers wife: I was not geek-worthy. Clearly I would never win at “Jeopardy!” if the category was science fiction.

One evening when we were trying to figure out what to watch on TV, Dale had the brilliant idea that we should finally watch Star Wars. He was completely serious. He said I could finally find out what a Sith was! YAYYYYYY! A sith? I was thinking hey I already know what that is. It’s what you use in the kitchen to drain your pasta. What’s it got to do with science fiction?

When I gave him a scowl, he then suggested “War Games” and I asked “Is that the movie you wanted me to watch where the guy lived in the computer game?” This time HE scowled and said “That’s Tron, doofus.” I just smiled and said ‘Did you seriously just call ME the doofus here?”

We ended up watching “21 Jump Street”.

Dale has suggested that we have a “Star Wars” marathon one day. That’s fine. Because if we have a “Star Wars” marathon, I have told him that we will also be having a Nicholas Sparks marathon.

I can’t wait!  He’s going to LOOOOOOVVVVE “The Notebook.”

 

I used Face-In-Hole and StoryMark to create the great picture above! For more information visit www.storymarklife.com or download for free at the iPhone app store or Android Marketplace.

Have you ever had TV wars with your spouse about what movies to watch?