Love is . . . Clean Sex.

After a weekend shrouded in a cloak of bitchiness, 

(Some bitchiness due to a blog post. Most bitchy tendencies came peeking through because of poor performance by a certain football team.)

I’m ready to start the week with some . . .


Now some of you maybe be old enough to remember when these two were in the newspaper everyday.

Why did I never notice these two were always naked? You would think that is something a little girl would notice.



Yep. Nude again. But this one has an uncharacteristically sad message. Once again, something I would have never picked up on as a child. ūüôĀ


Linking up with Stasha and her husband for our list this week: 10 WAYS TO SAY I LOVE YOU

I think I’ll go off the board a smidgen:

Ten ways to say I love you to my husband.


10.  Clean the house.  And promise sex a week from Tuesday after I recover from cleaning house.

9.    Clean the house.

8.    Clean the house.

7.    Clean the house.

6.    Clean the house.

5.    Clean the house.  Then have sex.

4.    Clean the house.

3.    Clean the house.

2.    Clean the house.

1.    Have sex. In a clean house.


If you could see — and I would never post — a photo of our things covered in two inches of dust due to our renovation project, you would get it.

There is nothing more my husband would love right now than to be in our newly renovated CLEAN space.

Having sex.

Hopefully by Thanksgiving all his dreams will come true.

What says love to you?




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And we look so normal.

Twenty-five years seemed like an eternity when you were five years old.

I’ve been married to my husband 24.6 years. Twenty-four point six years doesn’t seem that long.

Linking up with Mama Kat’s Writing Workshop this week and prompt number 1.) List 6 random facts about you and your husband.



My husband.

6. He’s a counter. He compulsively counts things. Window panes, stairway spindles, spiderwebs on a church ceiling. He can tell you how many in all.


5.  He dated the Dakotas. He went out with Miss Teen South Dakota and Miss North Dakota USA. And an assortment of Dairy and Beef Princesses.


4. ¬† He’s really, really funny. Much funnier than me. In fact that’s the only reason I went out with him when he asked me over and over and over again. I was so miserable in law school and he made me laugh and forget the HELL we were in.


3.   He was really fast. Like in speedy. (at one time.)


2.   We inherited a gas grill recently. He had never grilled a hamburger in our 24.6 years of marriage before this week. I did all the grilling on our little charcoal Weber.


1. ¬†He’s a very. very picky eater. I NEVER tell him what I put into anything. When we first got married he would not eat anything that he couldn’t readily identify every ingredient.

I’ve served him three casseroles in 24.60 years of marriage. And that was in the first was in three months after our wedding. I just gave up after that.




6. ¬†I’m an incredibly unstructured person from a family of analytical braniacs. ¬†I like order. I’m just utterly incapable of creating such.


5. ¬†I’m a horrible singer. Children sob at their parties if I join in with “Happy Birthday.”


4. ¬† I go orbital if I smell suntan lotion. And if I smell it while putting it on in the sun at the beach — well — let’s just say it’s my catnip.


3.   I fry an awesome chicken.


2.   I hate to ride in a car with the windows up. I get all stale air claustrophobic. The only thing that changes this is if I am driving somewhere I have to look presentable in the middle of summer. Which is not often. Like NEVER.


1. ¬†I’m the most extroverted hermit you’ll ever meet.


What about you? What are some random facts about your partner.




Mama’s Losin’ It

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Dinner and a Movie. Twenty-six years ago.

It’s funny.

This date, October 3 sneaks up on me every year.

Like another crease framing my eyes or a trip to the store to buy our youngest a larger pair of shoes.

How did that happen unnoticed again?

Today is the 26th anniversary of my first date with my husband.

In someways I treasure this day — in a quiet way — more than our wedding anniversary.

Sure wedding days are big deals but usually once the ceremony happens a couple’s already pretty committed — just without the church and paper.

What I find fascinating is that on October 3, 1986, I found someone who made me never want to date anyone else — as in ever.

A man who made me think I don’t see any reason I’d never want this person in my life.

A person who let me talk him into run 10 miles in the middle of the night and paying a good bit of money to do so.

Four days after that date, I left him a birthday card in his school box. Twenty six years later, four days from today, I’ll sign another card and seal it in an envelope for him to open at breakfast.

That boggles my mind a bit.

It must be a bit timing, physical attraction and in our case — a myriad of quirky stuff.

Yes, quirky — that we’ve never lost.

What about your first date with a significant other? Was it significant?

Linking up with Greta @gfunkied and Julie @Mamamash for another iPPP.


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Weddings aren’t my thing, I guess.

This December I’ll have been married for 24 years.

That is quite a while ago.

Maybe that’s why I can’t remember much of my wedding? Or maybe it is more that I was never one of those girls pouring over Brides magazine.

I always imagined I get married but as far as planning or dreaming about the perfect wedding, once I was past seven years old and Cinderella and Prince Charming — I gave it no thought.

Stasha and this week’s Listicle is 10 Things Wedding.

I am drawing a blank on anything creative. So I’ll try and remember 10 things from my wedding 24 years ago.


10.¬† I remember the groom. He’s still with me.


9.     Red tulips.  My bridesmaids carried red tulips. At that time a bit exotic for a Central Florida wedding. I still feel happy when I see red tulips.


8.   It was a morning wedding.  My church growing up was white woodwork and white marble. I thought is beautiful with sunlight streaming in. Flip side, services in the dark with candles always seemed sad to me.


7.  Red poinsettias all down the aisle. Which the train of my gown kept tipping over. The video is pretty funny with people jumping up after I passed righting the pots.


6.  I moved about 5 feet at the reception. We just stood and greeted people.


5.  The groom showed up.


4.¬† We remembered to kiss.¬† In the Methodist ceremony the minister does not say, “You may kiss the bride.” I tossed and turned all the night before fretting that we would not remember to kiss sealing the deal. We almost forgot. You can see me pulling John back to kiss and make it official.


3.  I wore an orange and blue garter.


2. Vague memories not liking being the center of attention. But at wedding, not much a bride can do about that.


1.  It was a blur. For something supposedly so monumental in life, it was like I was going through the motions of someone getting married.  Which I was.


Glad I only have to do that once. I guess I not very good at weddings.

What about you? What do you remember from your wedding?







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Feeling the burn. Walking burns more calories than running?


Reading through the June issue of More, I came across this highlighted sentence.

At high speeds, walking burns even more calories than running.

Burning more calories than running.


Since I was in the car with the family’s resident zealot for walking as cardio exercise (hubs)¬†— I read most of it aloud.

He was driving which made this possible.

There is a history here. I prefer running. He prefers walking.

Sometimes we run together, sometimes we walk together.

He walks fast and I find it painful and unpleasant. Which is what he thinks of running.

Walking fast is completely different than running fast — and for every second you can pick up the pace over 4 mph — you really start to burn something.

“Once you exceed 5 mph your calorie burn becomes greater than if you were running.”

Do you believe that?

The article does a great job of pointing out how the mechanics of running and fast walking are completely different.

Walking fast, when done right, is using the backs of your legs. You push with your toes up powering up your hamstrings and your glutes.

Running is more pulling with your quads, the big strong front thigh muscles.

“When you walk, your muscles have to generate energy for every step, In running you are temporarily airborne. It’s similar to the difference between throwing a ball up in the air over and over again (walking) and bouncing a ball (running). You use more energy and muscles to throw a ball than bounce it.”

Okay. That makes sense.

Being the team player that I can be sometimes, hubby and I went on a walk this morning.  After an hour into it I was beat.

There is no darn break walking. You just have to keep pushing forward.

We even talked of walking a marathon but after 5 miles I don’t know.

He said I’d have to get over the stigma walkers face. I laughed but part of me knows there is a bit of truth in every joke.

If they told me my rear would lift three inches, I’d sign up today.

And the ultimate warm fuzzy of walking is that it is easier on the joints.

I have to admit, here it is a few hours after our brisk walk of about 5.5 miles and my hip flexors and glutes know we did something very different today.

What to you think? Walking, running or looking at people walking and running?


The article I’m referring to is The Walking-Off-Weight Breakthrough. Written by Michelle Stanten.

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UGH. Musing on what I should be paid.

It all started with this.



This is my husband’s version of a to-do list.

Things Scotch-taped to the door jamb. I usually see them.


*   *   *

He walked through the door yesterday afternoon.

“Jamie. You forgot to make the deposit.”

Uh oh.

HATE IT when that happens. Especially when his face drops and his countenance ages 20 months.

How it happens somedays, I don’t know. I think yesterday, the deposit slip blended in with the white door frame. Like an itty anole lizard who leaps onto a green bush from the white painted porch.

It disappeared.

“I’m so very sorry….what can I do?”

“You can pay the overdraft fees,” he replied.


Just between you and me, I didn’t say poo.

I said, “Sure, I can do that!”

And added, “You know, I do a lot of work around here that I never get paid for.”

This probably wasn’t the time to go asking my husband for a pay increase.

*    *    *

* ¬† 48 cents. That’s what my cleaning skills were worth in his estimation. “And that’s a gift. Jamie, look at this house.”

I beg to differ. It wasn’t perfect. It’s been worse. We all can find clean clothes and no dirty dishes lined the sink. (At moment of his comment.)

* ¬†I then asked what about all the driving of the kids I do. “A wash,” ¬†he said. “I do just as much.” (No way.)

*  I brought up my shopping. This is when my teenager chimed in about there never being anything to eat. (A pork roast  for dinner bubbled in the Crock Pot as he made that comment.)

* ¬†Minus $50 for disorganization and paperwork.” ¬†I let this go considering the recent “failed deposit” incident.

* ¬† Then I brought up marital relations, what about that? “Yeah, that’s about the only thing you could really charge for.”

Super. Always got that for second career option. But at my age, employment in that line of work would entail relocating to The Villages.

“When you think about it. Jamie, you really do precious little. I think you owe me $1000.”


Now, I know my husband. He meant every word. But you don’t know him and how crazy he is about me.

Why else would he stick with me for so long?

I have been thinking lately, how running a house is an administrative skill. And on personality tests, I score under the South Pole with admin questions.

I should have remembered to make the deposit. I’ve always had a great memory.

Or used to.

Ugh.  Are you an administrator?

Yes or No?

(Now that was asked like a true administrator. Fake it till I make it, baby.)


Let's BEE Friends



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Musing on the Key to 23 years of Wedded Bliss: Let’s Get Physical.

Let’s Get Physical.

If reading those three words conjures up images of Olivia Newton John wearing a headband talking to a dolphin (did she talk to a dolphin in that video?) then you are obviously old enough to have a 20 plus year anniversary.

Not that I am.


Yesterday, I just did.

And what was my perfect gift to my husband? A couples workout. (Not exact what you might be thinking right now.) At 2 p.m., we headed up to Madison Fitness.

See. Hubby is walking into the gym on his own volition.

There she is…..

Beverly Morris. (I love this woman.)

Yes, Beverly part therapist, part Sargent Hulka — all wrapped up in perfect, muscled bod.

She makes me think bad things. Like why am I am paying some one to make me do this a 6 a.m. in the morning?

But she makes it fun….(I think this afterwards riding home in the car.)


This made me smile.

As did this.


Nothing like a small town....Aren't you jealous?


Then we started on the workout.

And dear Johnny did everything she said…




And this.



And this. Let the record reflect I hate pull-ups.


But the worst part for him was the stretching at the end.

I think she put his body in positions it probably hasn’t been in since in utero.

We got home and he got on the couch. I opened his mouth and poured in some Motrin and made him swallow.

What had a done?

We had places we needed to be that night. Getting married a week before Christmas our anniversary always involves going to a party or two.

He revived, the awesome tough guy that I married 23 years ago.

He was sore today and everyone at church felt incredibly sorry for him that his wife would have thought of such a thing. (These people obviously don’t know the real me.)

What do you do on your anniversary?

Well, besides the obvious.


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Musing on first dates that took.

Twenty five years ago tonight, I went on a first date.

Haven’t been able to lose the dude ever since.

Not through:

* sucky law school tax exams.

* inability to shake that pesky IRS.

* when I was a millisecond from accidentally burning our first house down less than 48 hours after moving in.

This guy doesn’t scare easily.

* One baby the old fashioned way.

*  Two babies by adoption.

*  Infernal teeth grinding in sleep during stressful periods.

* Love of the Florida Gators when all he cared of football was the NFL and the Vikes.

* My¬†inability to keep house. And even worse — my utter inability to train children to do same.

No, 25 years ago he picked me up. And I had to wear pink.

Last second I looked for something to wear and nothing I liked was clean.


I like pink.

On other people.

If he knew then what he knew now — wonder if he would still ask?

It’s not like I was easy. Twenty-five years ago anyway.

Did any of your first dates stick around? Ones that you are happy they did.


**   **   **   **

Here we are 25 years later.

¬†No. That’s not us. Tonight out at dinner, we ran into Dorothy and Dan Newton.

Get this.

Today , October 3¬†is Dorothy’s birthday. (The date of our first date anniversary.)

Friday, October 7 is the anniversary of the day she and Dan met. (October 7 is my husband’s birthday.)

And if things couldn’t get any weirder.

I ate way too much pizza.

Here’s to another 25…

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Mr. SMMuse’s advice on a romantic getaway: his muse moves.

Every couple needs time away.

Not just time away from each other, I’m talking about the all-important time away

with each other.

Now some might think I talked bad about my husband yesterday.

I¬†state facts as I see them…but he really sky-rocked in the ¬†dude department when we landed in our room.

His three muse moves to romantic success.

Upon arrival:



He pulled out plenty of wine.



He had squirreled away plenty of lacy things. (For me not him -- not that I mind a guy with a feminine side.)


Okay. Those are most bathing suits but this is a PG-blog. Not that I would mind my children reading this and seeing pictures of lacy things. Children, you just need remember these things are is for mommys and daddys who love each other very much.*

So if he didn’t have all that going for him, he made himself utterly irresistible..

and gave me this.



I love this man.


What is a gift that unlocks your heart and your …well, best stop with heart?



* And who are married to each other.




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A muse to the dude, “It’s the pedal on the right.”

We drove this afternoon to the sea. And arrived two hours later than if I was driving.¬† But after 20-something years of wedded bliss I have finally learned to let it go……

My husband has a truck. He loves his truck. A truck that was stolen from him after 5 weeks of ownership.

But true love could not be daunted even by some low-rent thieves in Dekalb County. The truck and Johnny reunited a month or so later.

So today, he drove. And I tried not to come out with any negative vibe about his tortoise driving. For that could be hurtful to tortoises.


He programed in the address. The way I like to go is much quicker.

No. He liked the GPS way because¬†“it tells me what to do. I think every¬†day¬†of my life, I don’t want to think when I drive.”

Ugh. But nary a word.

10 and two grip.


All these cars sped by us like we were a watermelon Jolly Rancher shard cemented between my teeth.



He's slow but he's smooth. Caught up on some reading.


Great how the Instagram effortlessly photo-shops out all my eye-crinkles and deep parenthesis surrounding my mouth.

With his slowness. My hunger caught up with me and I ordered chicken and fries. A Kids Meal. That I ate all of.



Good. But hadn't planned on eating all my fries. That's what the stress of a slow driver does to me.

The one vehicle we passed. Its regulator set on 52 mph.

So relaxing to have all this at my feet.



Rain isn't my favorite on the way to beach. But no safety concerns because Mr. 10 and two was at the wheel.


So we are here. That’s all that matters.

And I didn’t¬†complain. I don’t think¬†passive-aggressive complaining counts.

When traveling…do you or does the dude drive?¬†¬†

iPhone Photo Phun

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