Posts
P.S. (Pre-Script) No, this is not the heartfelt post I mentioned...I think I'll publish it on Monday.
Each December, Big Shooter and I get to celebrate one more glorious year of marital bliss.
Last year's celebration was accompanied by a very dark cloud hanging menacingly over our heads. We knew something was very wrong with BS and the uncertainty was stifling. So I wanted to do something nice for just him.
Each December, Big Shooter and I get to celebrate one more glorious year of marital bliss.
Last year's celebration was accompanied by a very dark cloud hanging menacingly over our heads. We knew something was very wrong with BS and the uncertainty was stifling. So I wanted to do something nice for just him.
In the months preceding our anniversary, he had voiced some concern about his wedding band becoming a little thin and had begun to take it off when he was doing any thing manual.
So I bought him a new, very durable, heavy-duty ring made of tungsten. (Anyone else think that sounded more like an ad for a farm tractor than a ring description?) He luv, luv, LUVED it. He called twice and sent a sweet text the next day to tell me so.
I was walking into the bathroom while reading his text when I glanced at the shelf and caught sight of his old band. It looked so lonely just laying there. I could almost hear it wondering aloud, "What's going on? Why am I not in my worn, comfy, safe spot today? Umm, who's the new big, shiny dude? You're not...replacing me...are you? You can't just throw me to the way side after 5, 680 faithful days...". So I picked it up and slid it on my fat, middle, right hand finger.
It's been there everyday since. 345 days. Until today...
I lost it.
And then, when I thought about the loss... I lost it.
Like the bad kind of lost it. Crying in front of the Crumbs. Mascara rivers, snot. The whole shabang.
I can't help it.
I slipped that ring on Big Shooter's hand almost 17 years ago. He wore it everyday for 16 of those. It has been through thick and thin, marriage counseling, miscarriages, belly laughing, mid-night runs to get ice cream, deaths, births, and lots of hand holding.
This past year has been tough. Very tough. Each and every time my eyes would fill with tears and I'd raise my hand to wipe them, I'd catch site of that precious gold symbol. It has filled me with silent strength each time. With out fail.
I could almost hear it saying, "C'mon Girl, love is like me...never ending. Be faithful to him, for him. Stand in the gap. Lift him up. Be strong." It worked every time. Every time.
And now it's gone.
And I am heartbroken over it's loss.
So I bought him a new, very durable, heavy-duty ring made of tungsten. (Anyone else think that sounded more like an ad for a farm tractor than a ring description?) He luv, luv, LUVED it. He called twice and sent a sweet text the next day to tell me so.
I was walking into the bathroom while reading his text when I glanced at the shelf and caught sight of his old band. It looked so lonely just laying there. I could almost hear it wondering aloud, "What's going on? Why am I not in my worn, comfy, safe spot today? Umm, who's the new big, shiny dude? You're not...replacing me...are you? You can't just throw me to the way side after 5, 680 faithful days...". So I picked it up and slid it on my fat, middle, right hand finger.
It's been there everyday since. 345 days. Until today...
I lost it.
And then, when I thought about the loss... I lost it.
Like the bad kind of lost it. Crying in front of the Crumbs. Mascara rivers, snot. The whole shabang.
I can't help it.
I slipped that ring on Big Shooter's hand almost 17 years ago. He wore it everyday for 16 of those. It has been through thick and thin, marriage counseling, miscarriages, belly laughing, mid-night runs to get ice cream, deaths, births, and lots of hand holding.
This past year has been tough. Very tough. Each and every time my eyes would fill with tears and I'd raise my hand to wipe them, I'd catch site of that precious gold symbol. It has filled me with silent strength each time. With out fail.
I could almost hear it saying, "C'mon Girl, love is like me...never ending. Be faithful to him, for him. Stand in the gap. Lift him up. Be strong." It worked every time. Every time.
And now it's gone.
And I am heartbroken over it's loss.
Love Note to my Big Shooter: I know you believe we will find it. Some how. In Idaho, no less. But, I am sad tonight. Just sad. I feel like I've been in the ring with the enemy and he has just opened a can of Whoop A$$ I was not prepared for. I'll need a day or two to re-gather before I can put the gloves back on, Love.
...and my dirt 
The end.
This tree sprang up out of the earth in 1646 and lived through WWII y'all. Just reading the facts and events it had lived through was worth the trip. Seeing the dawning on the Crumb Snatchers' faces as they began to realize the longevity and significance trees have on our society was worth the trip. I need to have them guest post on all the products we consume that have to do with wood. Unbelievable.
Then there were the crafts. Oh, the fabulously talented craftsmen.
Right next to the petting zoo and the hatchet throwing was this Cherokee guy. He played his hand carved flute and spoke for at least 10 minutes to just Girl Child. She asked a bajillion ??'s and was enamoured by him.
She wanted me to take a picture of her outside this period cabin. The pic did not turn out what we had hoped. The dirt used as mortar between the logs was truly Oklahoma red dirt. Not so much in the pic though.
