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The big one.

17 Jul

Scott: Do you know how lucky you are be married to me? I take you to places like the Dominican Republic for our 10 year anniversary.

Me: Uh, do you know how lucky you are to be married to me? You have a wife that loves to fish. It’s not even a trip to the Dominican Republic to me. It’s a trip to the Atlantic Ocean.

This is the big one. The big fishing trip. Every fishing trip this year was practice for the Dominican. My confidence is up.  It has to be – I will have professional anglers yelling at me to keep the line tight. I’m expecting it. And I’m going to yell right back at them: I LOVE YOU TOO!  The yelling will be forgiven when we’re smiling for the cameras holding up a 400 pound blue marlin.

I’m totally Instagram’ing that.

They're all going to yell at me.

They’re all going to yell at me.

But it’s another big one. Today is our wedding anniversary. 1 decade. 10 years. 3,652 days of marriage.

3,652 days of marriage doesn’t sound like an important milestone. 1,000 days sounds important. Or maybe 5,000 days. A decade is a milestone and there should be a speech with that. Words from the bride, aged 10 years -

Out of 3,652 days, most days were good. And some days were not good. I have never baked a turkey on Thanksgiving. I sleep in as late as possible. I have been to known to ask Scott to do something repeatedly – you men refer to that as “nagging.” I am not the wife of the year.

I do know that day 3,649 sucked. Scott dragged me to a spinning class with him. I walked out of there convinced he was trying to give me a heart attack or fracture my butt bones.

Day 667 and day 1755 were life-changing days for both of us. But this post isn’t about becoming parents.

Like babies growing up, it’s impossible to see the change in a marriage day to day. If you look at us a decade ago, you’ll see it. We have wrinkles around the eyes when we laugh now. Scott doesn’t wear his wedding ring because he lost it. My hair color is not it’s natural color anymore. We’re going downhill together – holding each other’s wrinkly, paper-thin skin hands.

As a couple, we’re closer. Scott and I were complete opposites when we got married. Our wedding was proof that opposites attracted. Ten years ago, I didn’t know we would have to overcome that. Two opposites may attract but they won’t last in a home when one is squeaky clean and one drags bloody deer into the house. I am not as clean as I used be. I have accepted my forever young teenage son in the home.

We didn’t know babies would leave us emotionally drained at the end of the day. I remember Scott asking for his wife to come back in our sleep deprived days. The babies grew up. Now he has three girls begging for a Disney World “adventure.”

We have mastered the art of fighting. I know exactly what to say to send his blood pressure out the roof. He knows nothing will bother me more than his silent treatments.

But…we always come back to each other, like magnets. Our wedding day did prove that opposites attract.

The beauty of ten years is we know each other more than anyone else. We know what we like on our sandwiches without asking each other. We know each other’s likes and dislikes. They are filed away, never forgotten. Scott knows 3,652 days ago, I would have never agreed to a 5 day fishing trip.

I guess, like fishing, you don’t realize what you have until you fight to get it. Then yell, “I LOVE YOU TOO!”

I love you, Scott. And my marlin will be bigger than your marlin.


Two days until certain death.

10 Jul

Saturday, July 12, 2014. 10 AM, CST.

May Scott and I rest in peace.

I can’t live in Kansas City and not ride the world’s tallest water slide. It’s true – world’s tallest. They have pushed back the opening date of the slide for safety adjustments. It’s open, running and ready to send us flying to our watery death. Or maybe smacked into a tree. I need to check out the terrain.

It’s called the Verruckt. I have no idea how to pronounce it but they say it means “insane” in German.

Oh shit.

Oh crap in my pants.

A 168 feet, 7 inch drop. And at what foot marker do bikini tops go flying off?

Insane? I’ve been called worse. What’s German for “you-crazy-ass-voodoo-practicing-witch-I-haven’t-shot-my-deer-yet.”

Scott doesn’t want to do this. He’s not insane. He offered to stay with the kids at the bottom like a responsible adult.  ‘Til death do us part, SCOTT. We’re going together covered in each other’s pee. A couple friends have offered to sit at the pool bar and “cheers” us down. I hope in their drunken stupor they can catch my bikini top. It’s like the bouquet at a wedding. Who’s going to die next?

We’re totally filming this with our Go Pro camera.

Meet us there. Who’s IN?


This is probably my last blog post. Our will is on the bedside table.

I love you all.


What is the craziest thing you have ever done? It’s not the craziest thing I’ve done but it’s up there – WAY up there. Would you ride the Verruckt? 

photo-29 blog

I trust you with my iPhone while I’m gone.

28 Jun

I will not be posting a Monday post next week.

I’ll be floating on a noodle off the Florida Keys with a cocktail in hand. Or I will be in a boat putting up the big fight against a trophy Mahi. The fishing reports are excellent.

I trust you guys to watch over my blog until I get back. Make yourself at home. Snoop around. Oh, here. These should keep you entertained – my iPhone pictures. Have fun!


I think Siri does autocorrects. She's a funny one.

I think Siri is behind the autocorrects. She’s a funny one.


Tina is on the short list.

Tina is on the short list.


The funniest thing about this picture is I was holding a treat because the dogs wouldn't smile for my picture. I put the treat away after I got my shot.

The funniest thing about this picture is I was holding a treat because the dogs wouldn’t smile for my picture. I put the treat away after I got my shot.


Oh, hey. How did that get there?

Oh, hey. How did that get there?


I don't live a glamorous life.

I don’t live a glamorous life.


This is a real thing.

This is a real camping thing.


How sweet. A Mother's Day card.

How sweet. A Mother’s Day card.


She knows her mother too well.

The fine print never lies.


That's funny. They printed it upside down!

That’s funny. They printed it upside down.


Ok! Ok! I'll stop the trash talk. Geez.

Ok! Ok! I’ll stop the trash talk. I start twitching when football season gets close.


Do I really have a wild look to me?

Do I really have a wild Indian look to me?


That adorable niece of mine.

That adorable niece of mine.


He's so cool.

He’s so cool.


Please invite me to your White Elephant Christmas party. Please.

Please invite me to your White Elephant Christmas party. Please.


Why take a car when you can take a lawn mower down city streets?

Why take a car when you can take a lawn mower down the ‘hood streets?


One of my biggest parenting decisions is to introduce Emma to her own iPod with text messaging.

One of my biggest parenting mistakes is giving Emma her own iPod with text messaging.


Sometimes Pinterest pins tell it the best.

Sometimes Pinterest tells it best.



Babies can sense danger.


Too old

I’m still too old for Bachelorette parties.


What would YOU do?

I mean, what would YOU do?



Solo parenting.

14 May

The thing with being married to Scott is he is not home often.

Scott has a job that requires a lot of travel. I can’t complain. He is good at what he does.

He also has a pretend job, called I-think-I’m-single-and-have-no-kids-so-I’m-going-to-sit-in-a-treestand-all-day. Some would call hunting and fishing a hobby. This is not Scott’s hobby. Scott is a full-time professional hunter and fisherman. He’s just not paid for it.

These two full time jobs leave me alone with the kids a lot. Solo parenting is a lot of work. It’s not fun.

Oh, but sometimes it is. 


Hey did you guys know you can make your own gifs?



The only time Scott is needed is the 6 pm to bedtime time slot. I get the kids fed. I entertain them. I break up fights. I pull my hair out. I help them with homework. I give them baths. I growl at the words “cold lunch.” Teeth are brushed and flossed.

Those kids are in bed by 7:50 pm when I’m solo parenting. There’s no daddy around to rile them up. It’s time to unwind with mommy and classical music with a touch of lavender. The sun hasn’t even set by the time they’re asleep.


And once the kids are down, I’m a free woman. No husband. No kids.



It’s the one part of the day that I get to be me. Whoever that is. There are no interruptions. I fall asleep my way – the bedroom lights are on, books are tabbed and tossed on the bed, the laptop is open and playing movie scores, an empty ice cream cup is within my arm’s length. My favorite part is I don’t have to kick legs back over to his side.

I mean, ok. Yeah. Scott is missed. He’s not here to talk to. He’s not here to make the girls and me laugh. I miss him rubbing my back in bed, hoping to get some. He won’t. Not unless he can get this cork out of this bottle of wine for me.

Oh! Got it. Too bad you’re gone, Scott. Totally would have got some.


Without this ring.

1 May


A lost wedding ring.

The old wives say bad fortune is in your future. You might as well be looking for your happy marriage at the bottom of that murky lake.

Superstitious or not, losing a ring will set off panic. Never in your life have you prayed for time to go backwards. For just a few seconds, God. Please. A tiny bit. It was right. here.

And then it’s gone.

That split second can happen all kinds of ways. I polled my Facebook friends. Hey, I do more than stalk on Facebook. I got the party started with this question -

“For those of you (or your spouse) that have lost your wedding ring – how did you lose it?”
  • It fell off my husband’s finger into the ocean. It was the first day of our honeymoon.
  • My husband gave the ring to our girls to play with. Been gone ever since.
  • He lost it in training and his 2nd one got lost while he was deployed.
  • It’s at the bottom of Table Rock Lake. It fell off while cleaning catfish.
  • My husband lost his in the snow, it slid right off. I lost mine after my 2-year-old took it. It was never seen again.
  • I have a nervous tick and I play with it on my finger. I spent hours looking for it in a parking lot.
  • My husband lost another man’s wedding ring. We were at a triathlon and my husband offered to hold a friend’s ring while he did the swim event. My husband went to pull in the buoys out of the water and the ring slipped into the water.
  • Husband lost his in the bottom of a river while canoeing, trying to save another couple from distress. 2nd one in Applebee’s bathroom. I will have to ask about 3rd and 4th rings.
  • Softball field, never found it.
  • Public restroom. Unfortunately, no one turned it in.
  • He threw it in the trash after washing his hands at work.
  • Thought it was lost forever but found it in the laundry basket.
  • Cat knocked it down the sink drain.
  • Workout bag had a hole in the pocket.
  • Divorce
  • Somewhere in our old house. I would love to blame my kids, for that I’m convinced a toddler misplaced it.
  • In the pasture behind our house.
  • Spinning it on the table at “Shot Stop” in Aggieville. It fell between a crack in the wall and the floor. Next time they tear down that bar, I’m going to go get it.
  • Stuck under my bathroom scale.
  • I throw it off in my sleep, but I always find it.
  • Fell out of my pocket while golfing. Luckily, I was with my father-in-law.
  • A beach in Mexico. I was getting a massage and left it in the hut on the counter.
  • Solution: Get the wedding ring tattooed on. (Brilliant, Serena. Brilliant.)


The responses to my research were immediate. I was expecting a handful of men to respond. Instead, my Facebook page turned into a confession box with a line out the door. Men and women. What surprised me the most was how lighthearted everyone felt about their missing symbol of infinite love. There were no sad stories. No said they felt bad. They were sharing a war stories. They survived and could tell the tale.

These people have found the secret – marriage isn’t a sealed deal until one of you lose a wedding ring. Only then you are golden. Oh, and that crap about your ring finger having a vein in it leading straight to your heart is a lie.

Scott lost his ring. We’re in.

You won’t find Scott’s response above. Scott couldn’t respond to my Facebook poll because Scott has no clue where he lost his ring. He left the house with his wedding ring on. He crawled into bed without his wedding ring on. He swore he didn’t take it off. It’s gone. It has been missing for a few weeks now. Stop it, ladies. He’s taken. But you can look at his cute butt.

We will replace the original ring. Maybe we’ll let our daughters help pick out a new ring. We’re not in a rush. We don’t need a ring to prove to the world that we’re married. That’s what a marriage certificate is for.

Oh, wait. Yeah, we lost that like 8 years ago.


Where did you go?

Goodbye, wedding ring.

Have you or your spouse ever lost a wedding ring? Did you find it or is it lost forever? Have you ever lost anything with sentimental value?

The jockstrap.

16 Apr

Scott doesn’t read my blog.

I know, it’s a little surprising. He will read a post if I ask him to read it. He will also read a post if it gets a lot of attention from his friends on Facebook. His response to not reading my blog is,

“I live the blog.”

Scott won’t read this post.

You guys, he wears lingerie clips when he plays hockey.

Not Scott but it could be.

This is not Scott but it could be.


I was laying in bed with Scott last night. We were watching baseball. My eyes fell to the cute pitcher’s butt. I mean, it’s like right there.

Hm. I wonder if baseball players wear jockstraps? I can’t tell from the TV. I should ask Scott. Wait. Don’t ask Scott. He’ll think you’re dumb. They’d have to wear them. The flying ball might hit the hanging balls. Right?

Me: Do you have a jockstrap?

Scott: Yeah, it’s in my hockey bag.

Me: Can I see it?

Scott: What?

Me: I don’t think I’ve ever seen one.

Scott: It’s a piece of plastic.

Me: Go get it.

Scott: No! It smells like hockey gear.

Me: You don’t wash your jockstrap?

Scott: I don’t know. Yeah, I’m sure it’s been washed.

Me: Does it cover everything hanging? Like all cupped up in a ball of plastic?

Scott: (raises his eyebrows) Are you serious? I slip the plastic piece inside the strap and it covers everything.

Me: Doesn’t it, like, chafe? That can’t be comfortable.

Scott: No, it doesn’t really chafe. It’s not the most comfortable thing.

Me: If I were a guy, I would just go without it. That’s got to be annoying.

Scott: If you were a guy, you would be wearing one if you knew what a blow to the balls feels like.

Me: Are there sizes?

Scott: Yes.

Me: And….

Scott: …….

Me: May I ask what size you are?

Scott: I don’t know, it’s based on underwear size.

Me: So like a medium.

Scott: MEDIUM?!

Me: LARGE! Sorry, large. I forgot you’re a large. So you wear a large size jockstrap. Is that the biggest one?

Scott: I’m done talking to you.

Me: Wait, wait. I don’t know these things! I’m a girl. I’m fascinated. We don’t have sons. I’ll never know. How does it stay there? You’d have to have a thong for it to stay down over the balls.

Scott: No. I don’t have a string up my butt. I put my legs through the straps and it sits on my hips.

Me: I’m so confused. Go get it.

Scott: No. You can go in the garage and get my hockey bag off the wall if you want to see it.

Me: Don’t make me google image search this.

Scott: Ok. It has a waist band, the straps go here on my hips to hold it up. There’s a slip here to put the plastic cup in. My socks that hold my shin guards go up over my knee. I clip the straps to the socks.

Me: STOP. You clip straps to the socks?

Scott: Yes.

Me: You mean tell me you wear those bra strap looking things on your legs? Like when you see a woman in full lingerie. Those clips that hold the panty hose up. The clips that men drool over.

Scott: I’m sorry. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen lingerie so I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Me: You know exactly what I’m talking about. I didn’t know they made lingerie clips for hockey players! HA!

Scott: What are you laughing at?

Me: All those hockey players wear lingerie straps! This just puts whole new perspective on the fighting. Don’t you feel sexy throwing punches? Hey, these are kinda hot.

Scott: What are you doing?

Me: Google image search.

Scott: Is this a porn site?

Me: No, it’s google image search: jockstrap. This is what shows up. Where’s the sexy clips?

Scott: You’re going to get viruses on your computer.

Me: It’s a google image search! Maybe I’m looking for a new jockstrap for my husband or son. Google doesn’t know why I’m googling jockstraps. Oh, wait. They have a separate section for hockey jockstraps. Ah, here we go. Oooo sexy clips for the hockey playa. You men. You want women to dress in these yet here you are wearing them with other men.

Scott: It’s a JOCKSTRAP. MEN WEAR JOCKSTRAPS. I’m going to bed.

Me: Wait, do baseball players wear them?

Scott: Good night.


Lego Land.

14 Apr

Emma has my squinty eyes. Kate has Scott’s blonde hair.

Boom. Easy. Our genes went this way here and that way there.

Emma and Kate’s temperaments – ah, now that’s tricky. All it took was a trip to Lego Land for Scott and me to see our personalities in a 7 year old and 4 year old’s body.

“That’s your kid. You discipline her.”

Kate is totally being talked about by the Lego Land employees. But I mean, all that matters is that the kids are happy, right?


Employee: I’m sorry, ma’am. But these coupons are for the Aquarium, not Lego Land.

Me: What? It says Lego Land right here?

Employee: You need the other half of the coupon. They misprinted them. See the small print on the back here? Lego Land got printed on the Aquarium coupons and vice versa. Do you have the other half of the coupon?

Me: It’s in the car.

Employee: ……

Me: ……

Scott: Damnit. I’ll get them. I’ll be right back.

I stepped out of line with the kids. Emma and Kate looked at the fish swimming along the walls. Kate climbed up on top of a fake rock to get a better look.

Employee: Oh! Miss! You can’t climb up on that rock!

Me: Kate. Get down fr… ah!

Kate turned around on the rock. She made a V with her fingers. She placed the V on her face so they are positioned under her eyes. She snapped her hand away and pointed directly at the employee. She stepped off the rock and looked at the fish from ground level.

Scott walked back in. We paid and walked into Lego Land. An employee asked us to stand in front of a green screen for a picture.

Me: Ugh, I’m in my workout clothes.

Scott: Just take the picture for the old man. We won’t buy it.

Kate: I’m not smiling!

Me: Shhh. Fine. Don’t smile.

Scott, Emma and I smiled. Kate glared.

We walked into an elevator that took us up to another level. The doors opened to a man welcoming us to Lego Land. He started explaining how Legos are made.

Me: (whispering) Scott. You won’t believe what Kate did. She…

Employee: Who is the oldest kid here? You! (pointed to Emma, because she is the tallest) Come here and pull this lever.

Emma followed his instructions. She went along with the skit and received a souvenir for helping. We continued on to the next room. We waited in line for a ride.

Me: So anyway, about Kate. She climbed up on a rock at the front while you were getting the coupons. The employee asked her to get down. She turns around, does her V point to her eyes then snaps her finger to point at the employee.

Scott: SHE WHAT?!

Employee: How many is in your party?

Me: 4.

Employee: Ok, next car. Two and two.

I grabbed Emma’s hand and Scott grabbed Kate’s hand. We rode a point-and-shoot ride. We each got a gun to shoot targets for points. Scott scored the highest. Kate got 2nd highest because she probably practices sniping in her sleep. The ride ended. Emma and I hopped out of the car. Scott followed us with Kate.

Scott: Bug. Do you see my contact anywhere?

Me: No. I don’t see it. Our car thing is right there. Do you want me to have the employee stop and look?

Scott: No, I have more at home. I’ll manage until we get home. Not a big deal.

We walked to the picture kiosk. Our picture was taken on the ride and displayed on the TV screen. All four of us have our guns up and aimed. Scott, Emma and I had intense faces. Kate is smiling.

Me: (whispering) That little brat. She’s smiling.

Scott: She is! I can’t see anything! I need a patch.

Employee: Would you like to buy it?

Me: Oh, no thank you.

We let the girls run loose in the rest of Lego Land.

Scott: What did you say to Kate after she did her V point to the employee?

Me: Uh, nothing.

Scott: NOTHING?! You need to discipline her! She should have apologized to the employee!

Me: But she got down. Apologize?! I pretended she wasn’t my kid! That employee made me mad. He knew we had the coupons. I know he can override that on his little computer. It’s not my fault they misprinted them. Who reads the fine print?

Scott: You and Kate are the EXACT SAME PERSON.

Kate: (standing in a cage above us) Hi mommy! Hi daddy!

Scott: (Puts one hand over an eye so he can see) Hi, Kate!

Me: Hi Kate! (make a V with my fingers and point at Kate) We are not the same person, Scott. Kate is some kind of hybrid of crazy. You know I’m not that crazy.

Scott: Oh, really?

Me: I smile for pictures, Scott. Kate is not me. Dude. It’s freezing in here. Hey, can you see my nipples through my shirt?

Scott: (Scott covers one eye with his hand) Ohhhh my goshhhh.

Me: I’ll just sit with my arms up. Ha! You’re the one that looks crazy with your hand over your eye.

Kate ran up to Scott and me. She stopped in front of us and crossed her arms. An employee walked up holding Emma’s hand.

Employee: We can’t have kids leaving the play area by themselves. The parent needs to be there to take them out. She took off. (points to Kate)

Scott: (closes one eye) Sorry about that. I’ll take them now.

The employee left.

Scott: KATE. You need to behave. Did you do your V point at an employee when we bought the tickets?

Kate scowled and scrunched her nose.

Me: Scott, don’t yell at her now. Hey, let’s go ride one more ride then we can go home. Ok, girls?

Emma: Ok! I want to ride with you, mommy!

Me: Ok. Kate, you ride with your dad.


Mini Me.

Mini Me.

Look who's not smiling now.

Smile for the camera, Scott! And you wonder where she gets it from, folks.



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