Happy Anniversary Baby, Got You on my Mind

Ha! Now you will hum this song the rest of the evening, not knowing the rest of the words.

Me too.  All Day Long!

Today marks the 32nd anniversary of our wedding day. I don't know if I've blogged this story before, and am far too lazy to look back over 600 blogs, so I'm tellin' it again.

Live with it.

Husband was very romantic in the way he proposed. He was living in another town, and try as we might, could not stay off the phone with each other.

This was before cell phones.

Our phone bills that month were a little high. His was just over $300 and mine was just under.

It was alarming. So he said, "Well, I guess we might as well get married."

Be still my heart.

Anyway, he came to my house as usual the night before we were to wed. I cooked supper, we cleaned up and watched TV for a little while. About ten p.m. he decided to call it a night and go on home to his mama and daddy's.

We opened the door and gasped.

There was ice hanging from trees and power lines. The yard was covered in it. And it was snowing with a vengeance.

I called the gate and asked if he could make it out. (I lived at Lake Arrowhead for those of you who know, and for those of you who don't, the answer was, "Lord, no!")

The tiny, narrow, winding mountain roads were not to be traveled upon.

After a few hours of hysterical behavior (Husband, not me), I decided to go to bed. He'd made the dreaded phone call to his mama telling her he was spending the night. I shared this information with my mother about a year ago. Only because she overheard me telling the story to someone else.

I went to bed with Husband pacing the living room, muttering, "I've waited 35 years to get married, and now this."

We called the gate the next morning, and the answer was still a resounding no. However; when I told them we were supposed to get  married (!), they changed their minds. Husband had a front wheel drive. The guards at the gate made a plan. If we weren't there in fifteen minutes (for a usual five minute ride) they would start looking for us and pull us out of whatever ditch/ravine we were in and get us to the church on time. (another annoying tune to get stuck in your head!)

By creeping we made it, and many minutes later made it into town.

We went to the florist. We were the only customers there, and she'd just made it in. She told us she couldn't take any orders because she was the only one there and had to make deliveries, there was a big funeral that afternoon.

Once again, when told we were getting married that afternoon, her plans changed and she threw caution to the wind and made me a small bouquet and Husband a boutonniere.

By the time we arrived at the church, we were pretty much done in.

But the worst was yet to come, as they'd forgotten to turn on the heat in the church and it was freezing in there!

We did get married, despite all the barriers (one I didn't mention because who knows who's reading this? But it was by far the most, um, amusing.)

Here we are, 32 years later, still married.

And they said it wouldn't last.

Grow Old Along With Me

"Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be." So said Robert Browning.

What a crock.

Either Browning was very young or pretty drunk when he wrote this.

I admit, when Husband and I married, I thought it was so sweet, and prayed we could grow old together.

Not that I still don't want that, I do. I don't know what I'd do without Husband.

But at that time, I was young (not drunk), and I romanticized it.

In a rather soft focus daydream, we were white haired, slightly wrinkled and retired, but otherwise unchanged.

We will be married 32 years in four days. I was almost thirty-one when we married, so do the math.

I'm not that old (yet), but due to an accident, I ain't in great shape as far as physical pain and abilities go. I am very, very changed.  I know it will only grow worse with age. I shudder to think the shape my body might be in when twenty years pass.

Of course, modern science might come up with a fantastic drug that will take away all my pain.

Yeah, right.

I was thinking about all this because of our upcoming anniversary, as well as my next birthday two weeks from today.

I want Husband to continue to grow old with me, but the best? Is not yet to be, it has done been. At least for me physically. 

I thank God Husband loves me. And I love Husband dearly.

And it is still a sweet thought that we might be there for each other for another twenty years or so. I pray it be so, if the Lord sees fit for us to stay on this earth.

The best is yet to be?

 Maybe. But only in some ways.

The Time's, They are A'Changin'

I never thought I'd see it come to pass.

It never even entered my mind that it could be a possibility.

But it's true.

Sad, but true.

The circus will no longer be coming to town.

No more Ringling Brother's and Barnum and Bailey posters.

No more "Greatest Show on Earth".

May of this year will be the last shows before they close up the Big Tent and fade into history.

What will the people do who have always been with the circus? What will the clowns do? 

Go into politics?

What will the high wire performers do? 

Become police officers?

What will the lion tamers do?

Become middle school teachers?

The list goes on and on.

No more cotton candy, or pictures made on elephants, or Ring Masters. 

No more nothing.

Makes me extremely sad.

They say all good things must come to an end.

I guess this proves it.

Sweatin' to The Oldies

Six days ago I blogged about how we were having ten below zero wind chill factors, four (count 'em, four) inches of snow and were really, really cold.

Today it is in the low seventies.

No, I haven't moved. I'm in the very same house I was in six days ago.

But Mother Nature is apparently in menopause.

Everyone has always wondered when the world would end. 

Well, I guess this means we're a little bit better than half way through.

If Mother Nature lives to be an old woman, that is.

I guess we'll just to wait and see.

Don't Play With Fire

Happy New Year and all that.

Happy Birthday, Elvis.

Etc.

Yesterday was an interesting day for me. As you know, if  you are anywhere near here, we got around four inches of snow and extremely cold weather.

No, Yankee, I don't  mean fifty degrees, ha, ha. You are so funny.

We got wind chill of ten below. The high yesterday wasn't. And since we live on Ice Mountain, we stayed home.

The alternative was wrecking our car.

So, we built a fire and kept it going all day, which I loved. It's my daddy's genes.

I cooked, which everyone else loved. Well, I did, too. I like good food and this meal was good.

There were just a few things that went wrong.

I was reaching into the middle desk drawer for a ruler to measure the snow. Unbeknownst to me, someone (Husband) had put a sheet of glass in there. Guess who's finger got sliced?

Then, I was closing the window upstairs (we had opened it so Daughter could get a clear picture of the sun on the icicles) and I closed the window on one of my fingers.

At least it wasn't the one I sliced open.

How did  you like the photo of the sun on the icicles?

That's right, Daughter took it, but hasn't shared it. She's so busy doing nothing....

The fire: (in the fireplace, don't be alarmed) We were putting more logs on the fire at one point and set the fire screen down out of the way.

 On our new rug.

Our new rug now has a  nice, long burnt place. Why did we do this you ask? Because we are stupid, duh.

Anyway, when I turned on the gas starter to get the fire going, I may have turned to lefty lucy a teensy bit too far. Flames lept into the room, including my arm and face, but it was only for a second.

I admit I said a "bad" word out of fright, not pain.

So, last night I'm getting ready for bed. My hair is a mess, 'cause I neglected it. I started to comb it and thought, "What is that stuff falling out of my hair in front? It looks like plastic."

Alas, it was singed hair.

Lots of it.

When I finished picking my jaw up off the floor, I inspected the damage.

Lordy, lordy.

Let's just say the front of my hair is now sporting a new look.

Sorta like when your first grader cuts her own bangs.

And my right eye eyelashes were singed, too. But not to worry. My eyelashes are so blonde and short, and my eyes so deep set that you probably won't notice.

I know you hope to see me soon, but I can't say I feel the same way.