Happy Eleven, Jack Rucker

By now eleven years ago Jack and I had abandoned the family at my folks house and stolen home to our first house with a stash of corn bread salad and cheesecake that we had liberated from the post wedding picnic.  I do not remember if we even had a bottle of wine though something tells me there might have been champagne.

We haven't ever managed to do a good job of celebrating our anniversary.  I recall at least 2 that Jack spent sick.  He worked nights on at least three.  There is always something.

Today began with Jack in Alva, and Bell and I slogging through the rain to a wet soccer field at 8:45 only to discover that I read the schedule wrong and our game was at 10, not 9.  We went to back to the car with our wet selves where Bell promptly dumped an entire 12 oz cup of hot chocolate in her lap in my from seat.  30 minutes we slogged back across the sloppy grounds to field 6.  I had an umbrella  and a raincoat but was soaked to skin by the time our four quarters were spent.  As we walked back up the hill, Bell said that tadpoles could swim in her shoes.  They were that wet.

We changed into dry clothes and managed to get lunch and  a slew of errands ran including getting Bell's eyes checked and groceries bought.

We came home to Jack, laundry going, the typical chaos of his coming in after a week away combined with a chocolate car and groceries to deal with.  I had planned on a picnic of bread, cheese, and wine - typical date night food for us.  Quite unromantically, we had a 7 year old between us  and the movie of the night is Men in Black 3.


You know, that is okay.  I came home to a husband who knows when  I am at the end my rope energy wise.  He knows when I am sad or angry or just overwhelmed.  And whatever it is that day, he rises to the challenge and does what he can to smooth the rest of the day into something I can handle.  He forgives me when I am impatient and tired.  He still thinks I am beautiful.

I came home to a family that we created.  Later in the fall or winter, when he can take a day off, maybe we can go away for a day or two.  Maybe once with Bell and once just us.  But tonight, after a week of single parenting, I will take family night over romance.

Even though I loved the man I married, he has grown to be a far better man, as handsome as ever, but more patient, kinder, and gentle with me and  that blond haired love that lives with us.

We have given each other far more than we dreamed of eleven years ago.  Love is a richer than thing than I imagined.  Happy Eleven, Jack Dear.

Rainy Day Apple Pie

I have been busier than I like lately.  With Jack back at work, I have been poorly juggling home, soccer, school, and family obligations.

One of the balls that got dropped was spending enough time with Harold and Rubilee while Jack is away at work.  He was home most of the weekend, but left again Sunday.  When I went by Monday, Harold was as poorly as I have ever seen him, depressed and drained of energy, still in his pajamas and all but giving up on life.  I stayed a long time visiting, and though he didn't have the energy to visit, just having company seemed to perk him up a bit.

Yesterday he got up and had a normal day, at least as normal as any day is when one is hooked to an oxygen tank.   When I stopped by last night, he was positively chatty, with a pink to his cheeks and a sparkle in his eye.  I stayed a long time again, but this was a fun chat about our favorite old movies and memories of his from being a kid in Grand Saline.

I didn't bring home many papers to grade tonight, not because the grading fairy had come, but because it was soccer night.  As the afternoon crept on in a drizzle and mist, soccer was postponed until tomorrow.  The house was a wee bit cooler and Bella got her homework done without drama or tears or lolly gagging.  Not a bad afternoon at all, especially since there was time to bake.  Harold has a sweet tooth - he will eat any sweet I make that his false teeth can handle - but his favorite is just an old fashioned apple pie. I still had pie crust from the wedding baking last weekend and I had a fresh bag of  honey crisps. I did not have pie pans.  Everyone of them is still at Momma's from the wedding dinner.

I made a sheet of little hand pies, apples peaking from the edges, cinnamon and nutmeg and sugar oozing from their seams.  Bell and I delivered them warm from the oven just as Harold got home.  Today he was still feeling good, still chatty.  This evening's memories were of growing sugar cane and making syrup as a child on his daddy's farm.  I enjoy these visits.  I hope to goodness my cousins are visiting like this with my grandpa, but I fear they don't.

I did not make pie because I had to, but because I could on this rainy day, because there is an old man up on the hill who still has a sweet tooth who might have a good enough appetite to eat dinner if there was a dessert tempting him, because he  shares his stories and his family with me.  Just so many becauses.

Maybe Rubilee let him have it for supper with ice cream while they watched the rain on the lake.

Changes and Busyness Blowing in with the Wind

This week has been at a forced breakneck speed.  From last Thursday until this Thursday, Jack was well and truly at work except for one late night home.  I am so grateful for his return to the working world.  I appreciate the salary, but he needed the ability to work to pull him out of a dark morass he was sinking into.

On the other hand, that meant I was solely in charge here.  His parents didn't need more than checking on (Harold is unwell, but there is nothing I can do), but there seemed to be a never ending list here.  Part of the time went to hauling a kid into soccer practice a few nights.  A lot went to grading papers/creating assignments.  And a fair amount went to building a puppy pen and starting to house train our new friends:  William the Ugly and Sweet Kate.  (No, I am not a royalist, but apparently their previous owner was - and now the names seem stuck).  Kate and Willie are half corgi and half mutt that looked like there might have been a a very short border collie vaguely associated with his past.  And these pups?  Well, Kate has a corgi body and border collie coloring.  Willie, well, he is just a brown wiggly thing that my child likes .

The other time suck this week is a truly happy thing.  My oldest brother, Tucker, is getting married today.  Pedicures, dress shopping, and flower girl stuff for Bell has spread out over the past few weeks.  Today, though, is the day.   There will be the big fancy church wedding and reception, but afterwards, 120 of our family and closest friends will descend on my parents for roasted pig, salads, homemade cheesecakes and pies.  We will have dancing, fireworks, and there is a canon that will be fired.  Last weekend found us at Momma's helping to repot every plant that been growing in my beds and my grandmother's beds.  One night was a marathon night of making pastry crust.  Yesterday, I played hooky from school and went to my mom's to churn out 8 coconut cream pies and help a bit more around the farm.

Last night while we were in the rehearsal, a great rain storm came through.  The rain was blinding and filled the ditches and flooded the roadways in 30 minutes. When rehearsal was over, I left Bell at the front of the church and went to get the car, sprinting through downpour.  As soon as my hair and skin were soaked, it was evident how much I baked as waves of the odors of coconut and buttery pastry crust rolled off me.  By the time we got home, my car smelled like a pastry shop.

Today, we are up early for showers and fancy hairdos and being at a church for hours before the wedding begins.  I am excited to see our family that has traveled in.  I love parties like this one at my parent's house (which is funny since I have never had one of my own) and yes, I love to dress up.

Mostly though, I am so excited and happy for my brother.  He is 30 which is not so old at all, but the past 5 years have not been kind to him romantically.  Well, maybe they were. Maybe all those years of heartbreak were worth it if it meant finding this girl who seems to make him whole.  Last night as I watched Tuck and Lexie walk up the aisle after the rehearsal, the look that they shared was so full of joy and love that it could have powered a city.   This is what weddings are about - the finding of love that gives us the joy and wholeness in life, of finding a best friend to share our bliss with.

Long List Day

My day started a tad bit later than usual - I was headed to the doc for a yearly look over so thought I would sleep until six and forget the makeup routine.

I might have squeezed in an extra fifteen minutes of sleep, but I am just done in now that the day is over and done.

It was the sort of day that allowed for getting Walmart done before 9 and beating crowds, but it was also the sort of that meant I did not find the right hair pins for Bell for her flower girl bit next week at Tuck's wedding . . . Even though I looked in multiple places.  On the up side. I did snag a pair of half price jeans from Maurice's and the doc thought I was pretty healthy, though I am going back in a month to do a little bloodwork to see if we can figure out why my hormones are so erratic these days.  It will be one of those fasting things so I will go n fall break instead of miss more school.

I went to get a damaged toenail repaired and came away with a full manicure and pedicure - that was a bit odd for me.  I have never had my nails done - wish I hadn't let it happen now.  They are a bloody  nuisance.  Not sure how I am going to keep them looking nice for a whole 9 days.  However, the foot business was sublime.  I now understand why people do this, though I won't be joining the line of people at Walmart.  I liked the quiet of the little salon I found, and there weren't people gawking at me as they pushed their carts of groceries and whiny children past.

I managed to squeeze in a visit to my dear friend Di. When Di quit teaching at Comanche, it felt like someone cut my arm off.  It had been a long while since I had found a friend like her.  Never mind that she is old enough to be retired and has grown grandchildren.  Di and I just hit it off from the beginning.  Today was a quick visit, but I think we both needed it.  There is a peace and a bit of life we walk away with after we have spent time with the sort friends that feed our souls.  Some people do just whittle away at our being, but Di blesses.

Dog Days Gardener

In January when the seeds are dropped into flats by stiff, frozen fingers, I am just thinking about shoots of Kelly green, of tidy rows, and maybe imagination runs as far as the first bite of summer salsa.

My thoughts never get to the dog days, when it is hot and still, Mosquitos are out in droves, and I am too busy with school to give the garden more than a passing glance.

I kept my garden in fairly good shape all summer.  The raised bed meant that my weeding was at a minimum except in the new area that was carved out as the asparagus bed.  That was a ton of weeding all summer, but I kept it looking good.

Notice the past tense of that "kept" . . . things have gone wild now.  I think it started when a wind storm blew my tomato cages over a month ago . . . Or maybe when my leg was hurt and I didn't more than make sure  the sprinkler got turned on.  Whenever, whatever, my attention shifted to getting by and school and the garden might have been neglected a wee, bitty bit.  The kind of wee, bitty bit where I didn't train the pumpkin vines to go down the hill instead of up the hill and into my tomato cages.  The kind of wee, bitty bit where weeds grow from the hay bales making the raised bed and hide the peppers.  And that asparagus bed?  It is so overgrown with pumpkins and weeds that I only vaguely know where it used to be.

The upside is that I still have plenty of tomatoes and there are 6 pumpkins out there that are bigger than basketballs.

I have a Mt. Everest stack of school work to do today, but I think I am going to take my garden gloves with me when I go water in bit.  Some therapeutic weeding is in order.

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 And four hours later, I not only watered and weeded, but also potted most of the flowers in my beds to take to my momma to use for wedding dinner decorations.  My beds look sad and ravaged now, but those flowers would have only lasted another month or so.  Now mom will have pots for the porches and tables, pots spilling over with coleus, sweet potato vines, vincas, four o'clocks, and every other pretty thing I grew.