No One Ever Believes You When You're 29

I have been blogging for Zack's birthday since 2008, so that means this is his 6th Happy Birthday Post.

• In that time I have shared with you the story of his birth (and how he was 5 weeks late arriving, weighing in at 9 lbs. 11oz.)

• I've shared with you Zack's great qualities (like how gentle and kind he is with people the world tends to overlook or push into the margins).  

• I've shared with you what a great Big Brother Zack is (and how he once put the fear of God into someone who was bullying his little brother and how I FEAR for any boy whom ever wants to date his sisters!)

• I shared my feelings on Zack's last birthday as a single man (get out the tissues, sheesh).

• And I've shared with you some funny secrets about Zack (like how he slept with a stuffed dog named Dylan until he was in 7th grade, and how he can dance like Michael Jackson . . . for real).

So what else is there to say about this man?

That sounds crazy in my own ears . . . this man.

First, I'll say this, you're a good son, Zack Jones.  You're a good brother, a good friend, a good husband (but Christina will have to vouch for that one), and some day you're going to be a great father.

You are tenacious, dedicated, fiercely protective, incredibly loyal, brilliant, talented, hysterically funny, sometimes a pain in the buttocks, helpful, generous, and a lover of Jesus.

When I think about the moments in your life that have been the most incredible to me, they are the moments I have witnessed you loving others.  Not so much with words, though you are good at that, but with your actions, showing the smallest kindnesses to people who needed them most. And if I erased every word I have ever written about you and left just this one paragraph, it would be saying a lot about you as a man.

These boys always have fun!

He brings out the best in her. No one else can make her smile this way!

One of our sweet babies.  Man he loved this guy!

Sometimes he's just so crazy!  And yet, his dad can remain straight faced!

One of the best decisions he ever made!

One of my favorite casual pics of us! This was a lot of years ago.

Always willing to have fun with his sisters.

Zack gave this homeless man shoes once and then years later ran into him again!
Very cool.

All that to say, Happy Birthday to you, Zack Jones.  For the next year, no one will believe you when you tell them your age.  You enjoy that.  :)

32 Years to the Same Man?

I was talking with a young woman a few weeks ago about marriage and conflict and conflict resolution.  

She asked me, "How have you done it for 32 years?  Stayed married?"

I said, "That's easy.  When I have days that are incredibly good or devastatingly bad, there is one person I want to run to, and that's my husband."

Mike and I are 32 years older than we were on the day we married.    In some ways, we are completely different people than we were then.  People change.  Life changes us, often in ways we would never expect.

And the truth is, some days marriage is hard.  After 32 years, I am often surprised that we argue about the same damn things we argued about in our first year of marriage.  Seriously.  We do.  Arghhh!

On more than one occasion, my husband has not lived up to my very high expectations of him, and I am quite certain that I have failed to meet his expectations as well.

 And yet . . .

One Thing Remains

At our core, one thing remains.  We love each other.  For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, til death do us part. That, my friends, is a rich love that withstands all the crap that life can throw at it.

There is a worship song I love that says,

Your love never fails
It never gives up
It never runs out me


Though I know the words to the song are about Jesus, I believe this is the same love Mike and I pledged to each other on the day we were married. (I technically also pledged to obey. I'm not doing so well in that area! HA!)

I love you Mike Jones, for so many reasons.  I hope you always know how much I love you.

(And in case you forget, just think about how awesome I am in bed!)

All that to say, Happy Anniversary Mr. Man.  I love you.

The Secret is Out

Several years ago, my then soon-to-be daughter-in-law, Christina, and I were talking about what we wanted to make for our Christmas "goodies."

I told her that one of the things I had always wanted to make was peanut brittle, but every time I had tried, it had turned out tasting like c-r-a-p (sorry if that is offensive to you, but no other word accurately describes how my brittle had turned out in the past).




She told me, very excitedly, that she had actually made prize winning peanut brittle at the county fair when she was in high school.  Prize winning brittle?

Could it be this girl who was about to be in my family had brought with her the answer to my life-long desire of brittle making?  (okay, it wasn't actually a life-long desire, but it was a desire).

When we started talking about how to actually make peanut brittle, I realized that what she was a prize winner at was peanut patties . . . you know the pinkish round things that they sell at truck stops?

Sooooo . . .  we searched the Internet (believe it or not Pinterest was not around yet, or at least not popular enough for anyone to know that they should go to Pinterest to find a delicious recipe for peanut brittle!)  And after many hours of searching, we found the perfect recipe.  It's called "No Fail Microwave Peanut Brittle" but trust me when I tell you that name is TOTALLY not true.  They should have maybe called it "No Fail Once You Have Figured Out How Your Microwave is Going to Work Peanut Brittle."  But I guess that name would have been too long.  Regardless, it's a very misleading name.  (My point is you are likely to burn your first batch.  Watch the microwave carefully!)

We made some, adjusted the recipe, made some more, adjusted the recipe, and finally landed on our own version of  Carol and Christina's Microwave Peanut Brittle.

As a Christmas gift to you, I am going to give you our secretly perfected Microwave Peanut Brittle, though I did have to console Christina at the gym this morning when I told her I was giving away our secret recipe!

Carol and Christina's Microwave Peanut Brittle

1/2 cup light corn syrup
1 cup of sugar
1 cup of RAW peanuts (YES, THEY HAVE TO BE RAW!!!)
1/8 tsp of salt
1 tbsp butter (not margarine!)
1 tsp vanilla
1 tbsp baking soda (must be fresh!)

Here's how to make it!

First off, let me help you by telling you to get a microwave safe measuring cup that has a handle on it!  It is KEY to making this!  I like this one. 

Next, butter a cookie sheet.  Don't forget this step. There's no picture of this, but if you don't know how, just cut off a tablespoon of butter and rub it onto a cookie sheet until it's covered with the butter.  Don't use a cooking spray for this step.  Or margarine.

Place first 4 ingredients (in order) into your awesome microwaveable measuring cup with the handle. DO NOT STIR.  Microwave on high for 3 minutes.

Remove from the microwave, by the awesome handle, and stir.  It will look like this when it comes out of the microwave.  After you stir it (not whip it, mind you, just a gentle stir) put back in microwave and cook for 3 more minutes on high.  Work fast.

 Remove from the microwave using the amazing handle, add 1 tbsp of butter, NOT MARGARINE, and WITHOUT STIRRING, put it back in the microwave, and cook for 2 more minutes.

Notice how brown it is starting to look?

This next part is tricky, and I was working solo, so I don't have a picture of it.  Instead, I have inserted a picture of me and Shannay which I think adequately depicts how excited I am about the awesomeness of this peanut brittle.  

  

Here's the tricky part.  Work fast.  Remove brittle from the microwave.  Add 1 tsp of vanilla (it will bubble and sizzle) and 1 tbsp. of baking soda.  Stir.  When you stir, it will foam up.  You have to work fast.  Stir quickly, and then pour out onto your buttered cookie sheet.  It is best to use a wooden spoon for this part and you need to press out the peanut brittle until it is thin (but not see through).  If you don't get it thin enough, you can't break it, and people can't eat it.

Here's how it should look when it is cooling.  It needs to cool about 20 minutes.  Then break into bite-sized pieces.  But don't worry, if it's not cool enough, you'll know because it won't break.  It will just bend. Oh, and BE CAREFUL!  This stuff is sharp.  I have actually cut myself badly doing this.  (But, sometimes I am klutzy, so you might not have that problem.  And also, spellchecker autocorrected clutzy to klutzy, so don't think I'm trying to be cute or play fast and loose with the English language.)

But I digress.

Finally, put your bite-sized pieces into a cute dish and give it away as a present.  Or eat it all yourself.  But be advised, in no way should this be considered healthy.  Eat at your own risk.  Also, make at your own risk.  Don't blame me if you burn yourself or cut yourself, or break a tooth.  That's my disclaimer.

All that to say, I hope you enjoy this delicious recipe.  And if you see Christina, tell her thanks.  She might still be a little sad that I shared our secret recipe.  But, well, the secret is out, so . . .

I Am Thankful for Pie

Thanksgiving has come and gone.  Our first Thanksgiving with the three new Jones girls.  Well, technically, it is not the first one with our daughters, just our first one with them "officially" as our daughters.   It's our third Thanksgiving with them in our home.

And it was our first Thanksgiving with a daughter-in-law.  She is a welcome addition in many ways, but ESPECIALLY if she keeps making those ridiculously good buttermilk pies that she made!

We also had a little foster baby with us, "Baby D" as we call her, as well as my Dad and Step mom.

And then Jacob came home from college, something I always look forward to and am incredibly grateful for when it happens.

Man.  Full House to say the least!

I love that my family gets together at Thanksgiving.   Well, technically I always love that.  No matter the occasion.

But for the most part, I don't love Thanksgiving.  I spend two days cooking a meal that takes 15 minutes to eat and two hours to clean up from.  Mike spends most of the day outside cooking turkeys (he cooked THREE turkeys this year . . . I have no idea why!)

The boys typically spend the time napping.

The girls spend their day being toddlers, requiring interventions on an ongoing basis.


And me?  I'm in the kitchen cooking, and constantly answering the most asked question on Thanksgiving Day, "What time do we eat?"  (At least I had help in the kitchen this year!)

Even though I don't enjoy Thanksgiving, "the holiday," I do enjoy my family, in all their messiness, all their craziness, all their moodiness, and all their zaniness.

I enjoyed having my parents here and watching them interact with their granddaughters.  I want Nikki and Shannay to have sweet memories of holidays with their grandparents.  And I enjoyed having Jacob home, even though he left early.  And I enjoyed playing dominoes with Zack and Christina and my dad and Mike, even though I lost, again.  And I enjoyed sharing our home with a baby who didn't have one.

And I enjoyed the pie . . . man did I enjoy the pie.

All that to say, I am glad that we are moving into the Christmas season, the season of hope and joy.  I am "thankful" that Thanksgiving is over.   And I'm thankful for my family.  (And I'm thankful for pie!)

(Here are some favorites from the day)

Christina teaching Nikki to make Pink Salad (to die for!)

Chef Mike frying THREE turkeys!

Jacob, Nikki and Shannay with our guest

The family eating.   I love that everyone is either in mid-bite or looks grumpy that they had to pose for the picture!)

Christina taking her turn at Croquet.   Probably getting instructions from Mike here!

The girls with their mallets.  I have a massive bruise on my leg from one of these!

Day 81: Family Matters: Jamie and Will

My niece, Jamie, got married this weekend to the man of her dreams.  I know he must be the man of her dreams because she told me that she wasn't likely to get married unless she came across the perfect man (which I'm guessing she didn't think existed!) 




And then she met Will Page.  From the day I found out she was engaged, I lovingly referred to Will as "Mr. Perfect."

She was a beautiful bride, though in truth I have never seen an ugly bride, so perhaps I should say she was an exceptionally beautiful bride. 

Jamie was born partly at home, partly in a car on the way to the hospital, and partly on the gurney on her way into the small town hospital that did not deliver babies . . . until that day. 

The story of Jamie's birth is a funny one, though not one I'll share today.  But I do want you to imagine Jamie's mom, with a crowning baby (that's pregnancy talk for the baby was COMING OUT) in a car with a screaming husband telling her, "DON'T PUSH!  YOU WILL NOT HAVE THAT BABY IN THIS CAR!"

That's Jamie for you.  She's unconventional.  She does things her way.  In her time.  And perhaps that is the most endearing thing to me about her. 

She is loving, and kind, and generous, and believes the best about most everyone.  And even if she doesn't believe the best about them, you'd probably never know it.  I just love that red head!

Jamie asked me to perform her wedding ceremony, which was such a sweet blessing for me.   It was my 4th one, ever.  My first one was for a friend and the whole ceremony was only 3 minutes long (at the request of the bride). The second one was my brother's wedding. (His expectations weren't too high!)  The third one was when I performed the ceremony for Jamie's sister, Linda.  It was a small ceremony with just a handful of guests.  Very casual.  Very intimate.

Jamie's ceremony lasted 18 whole minutes from Processional to Recessional.  I was kind of nervous because well, I had to hold the written out ceremony and the wind was blowing.  I had to hold a handheld microphone.  I was worried my pantyhose weren't going to stay up because I had to stop and buy cheap ones at the dollar store on my way to the wedding (long story) AND I was standing right in front of a 6" wide GAP between the two sidewalks.   And at the last second, I couldn't remember how in the world that cranky wedding coordinator told me to turn on the mic! 

As it turned out,  I was so very worried about dropping things or falling in that crack in the sidewalk (I break), that I COMPLETELY forgot to tell the guests to be seated.  Finally one of the bridesmaids motioned for everyone to sit down.  I'm sure that wasn't awkward at all.  (My son, Zack, told me he was trying to motion to me to tell everyone to be seated, but I was obviously too distracted with everything else I was worrying about to notice he was trying to help me!)

Well, then Will cried.  Right in the middle of me reading why Jamie wanted to marry him, he starts squalling.  (It wasn't really squalling, that just sounded so dramatic. He cried very manly tears.) I was working REALLY hard not to cry myself, (which would have been totally inappropriate), and then wouldn't you know Jamie started in.  Goodness, they weren't making my job very easy. 

Finally, I said they could kiss and Will decided he'd DIP Jamie.  I'm sure glad he didn't drop her.

Then the rest of the night was your usual wedding reception kind of things.  Cupid Shuffle, kids break dancing, the groom wearing a ball and chain, cake and karaoke.  Yep.  Karaoke. :)  I don't sing.  I barely dance.  But we all laughed and had a great night!

All that to say, Congratulations to you Jamie and Will Page!  I love you.

Day 57: Loser

I lose things.  It's a flaw in my character.  A frustrating one, I might add.  Frustrating for me, for my husband, whose frustration frustrates me even more.  (I mean, for real, you'd think the man has never lost anything!  Geesh!)

Saturday, I had a special day out with the girls, getting their hair braided.  A small problem with Nikki's hair (it looked like a boy!) required a stop off at Sweet and Sassy so we could get Nikki some new earrings.

I knew we were going to be fast so I parked in the 30 minute TOWING ENFORCED parking.  (Don't be too quick to think you know where this is going!)

We went in and got Nikki's earrings, but then the nice ladies there (who spoil them rotten) did their nails and gave them a sucker.

Well, I couldn't put them in my car with wet nails AND a sucker, so we walked around Market Street a bit while their nails dried.  Just as we were walking back to the car, the trolley came by.  The trolley to the girls is like chocolate to a woman with PMS.  It calls to them. 

So we rode the trolley.

And about halfway through the trolley ride, I remembered that I was in 30 minute TOWING ENFORCED parking. 

And I panicked.

But by the time we got back to the trolley stop, I had completely forgotten my parking situation and decided we should go enjoy a nice dinner together.  A perfect end to a perfect day with my girls.

And then . . .

about midway through dinner . . .

I remembered . . .

that I was in 30 minute TOWING ENFORCED parking.

If you have never tried to get two four year olds to rush through their dinner and then hurry to walk 4 blocks, then you have no idea the frustration that ensued!

But we made it to the place where my car was supposed to be parked and Thank Jesus it was still there.

I reached into my purse to unlock the door, but alas, I could not find my keys.

And then I remembered, my purse had fallen over on the trolley, and I was fairly certain my keys had fallen out.

Two hours later, we all made it home (courtesy of said husband who gets frustrated, and rightfully so, because I lose things!) but my keys have never been found.

All that to say, I'm a loser baby . . .

Day 43: Family Matters

I totally know you guys are all just sitting around hoping, just hope upon hope, that you will pop open my blog and I will be telling you some incredible story about another family member.  So . . . today is your lucky day!  My next installment of Family Matters.

When I was a little girl, I was TOTALLY a daddy's girl.  My world revolved around him.  I can even remember being a little girl, standing on his feet, gazing up into his eyes, and dancing with him.  He was my world.  My knight in shining armor.

But my knight had a dark side.  He was an alcoholic.  And following his divorce from my mom, for a period of about 5 years, he really went off the deep end.  Very often he lived on the streets, homeless and drunk, and I almost never heard from him.

But a near death experience snapped him into the realization that he had a lot to live for, and three kids, almost grown-ups by then, who desperately needed him to get his act together, and so he did.

The love of a good woman and the love of Jesus rescued him from the man he was.

And now, well, maybe he's not a knight, but he's a sweet man; a man that loves Jesus, a man that loves his kids and grand kids, a man that loves his wife and a man who has been sober for over 35 years.

I heard him tell someone at my church recently (when they commented about how sweet he was) he said, "Well, I figure we all got some good in us and we all got some bad in us.  And I just used up all my bad early on."  (If you say that in a super country voice, you can imagine what he sounds like!)

Other notable facts about my dad.  My dad is brilliant.  He devours the newspaper every single day of his life, and he doesn't forget anything (which makes him pretty freaking awesome at Trivial Pursuit at Christmas!)  And he loves to have fun!

My dad is 72 years old (soon to be) and he still goes on mission trips.  He serves at VBS at his church, works in the sound booth, and teaches RA's (a group similar to scouts.)  He works with the homeless and at the food bank.  He helps fix  the homes of widows.  He is so incredibly active, constantly giving to others.

And he is a phenomenal "Pawpaw" as he is called by his grand kids.  Even when Nikki and Shannay met him for the first time (see below) they were immediately enamored.  He calls it "Pawpaw magic."

All that to say, I guess I'm still a daddy's girl.

Day 41: Guilty

It's funny to me whenever I hear someone making fun of what other people post on facebook.  In truth, it makes me laugh a little.

Of course, I'm not laughing out loud, in their face.  I'm laughing in my head.  That crazy sounding laugh that no one else hears but you, but that makes you want to laugh out loud at yourself for being so amused.

I confess that sometimes the laugh in my head is a condescending laugh.  A laugh that says, 'Whatever, you totally know you do it too!"

But sometimes the laugh in my head is a nervous, oh-man-I'm-totally-guilty-of-that laugh.

In fact, I am VERY OFTEN guilty of the things I hear people ridiculing others about on facebook.

Some examples:

"Seriously, do people really think anyone else CARES what you are having for dinner?"

• Guilty. I have recently posted that I was having Banana Pancakes, Maple Bacon and Scrambled Eggs for dinner. I guess I thought someone cared.

"If they post one more recipe about their organic gluten free dinner, I'm going to delete them as a friend."

• Guilty.  Well, not about the organic gluten free part.  I'm dying a slow toxic death by shopping at the actual grocery store (and in the center aisles no less!)  But I have posted recipes of my meals.

"No matter how urgent the crisis, there's always time to update your status on facebook."

• Guilty.  I have done this in the ER (complete with pics), on my way to the ER, on my way home from the ER, etc.

"You know, hashtags aren't for facebook? right?"

•  Guilty.  #SueMe  #You'reNotTheBossOfMe

"I'm not dumb.  That  casual "update" that says something funny that happened with your new business is really just an ad for your new business."

• Guilty.  No explanation needed.

"I really don't care how fast, far, long you ran or what you felt like afterward."

• Guilty.  For the entire 10 months I trained for a marathon!

Oh but the list could go on.  I totally make fun of the things people post on facebook all the time, so I think hearing people making fun of things I do is sort of some kind of cosmic payback.  (if I believed in cosmic paybacks)

All that to say, I've enjoyed having a good laugh at my own expense.  And it has made me think a little bit more about WHAT I post on facebook.  Maybe.