A Daughter of the Ozarks

The title of this book idea comes from an elite group I have the pleasure of belonging to called Daughters of the Ozarks. We are still in the early stages of gathering but have some very clear goals and plans for growth.  The idea for this book came to me during my most recent visit to Southern Missouri while I was sitting at a top of a mountain letting my daughter nap in her car seat.  I hope you enjoy and don't forget to let me know if you want to hear the rest of the story.  I'm trying to narrow down my book ideas and I need your help!  As always the story is fiction so please those of you that know me don't read anything into real life.

I can do this.  We can do this.  It will be an amazing adventure.  I stood at the top of Skyline Drive staring out over a magnificent view of the Current River.  The trees were every shade of green, red, orange, yellow, and brown imaginable and the river snaked through them looking like grey ribbon.  The cool breeze blew through my hair and I wished I had packed warmer clothes.  Hell, I wished I'd owned warmer clothes.  I felt energized and excited about my idea for the first time in what seemed like years.  "The kids are still young," I told myself.  "They won't mind moving."  I could make an impact here.  I could start educating people and help this area flourish.  This is where I needed to be.  I could live and work in a place I loved.  Best of all it was so far away.  I wouldn't have to see Jacksonville ever again and maybe the hard work here would help me forget or at least ease the pain of what I'd been through in the recent months.

I hopped back in my car and began driving around the Southeastern Missouri Ozarks with no direction.  I drove through tiny town after tiny town and couldn't decide in which town I wanted to start my new adventure.  Every house I drove by that was for sale was either way out of my price range or had wooden boards or sheets for windows and doors.  I wondered how much it would cost to build my own home.  I didn't need much.  I'd need to find a realtor.  Of course Ryan's grandfather had offered me to stay at his vacation home for as long as I needed but I couldn't impose for too long.  That's why I was there in the first place.  Ryan's grandfather, Bennett, had thought it might be good for me and my children to get away from Jacksonville for a little while given recent events.

Bennett was the nicest man I had ever met.  He had worked hard during the great depression to keep food on his family's table even though he was a child.  Bennett had fought in World War II as an under-aged soldier just to send the money home to his mother.  I still wasn't sure how the government didn't figure out he lied about his age.  Bennett was honorable and passionate.  He had finished school upon returning from war and turned a glimmer of an idea into a very profitable business, the beginning of the Go Green movement.  Bennett had reminded me so much of my own grandfather whom I cherished.  I remembered meeting him when Ryan and I first started dating and thinking, "if Ryan is half the man Bennett is, I will be a happy woman for the rest of my life."  I couldn't take advantage of Bennett's kindness, however.  He had offered the vacation home indefinitely but I couldn't just move in.  I had to find a place of my own.  Maybe Bennett could give me the name of his realtor.  No, that would clue him in to what I was planning and then he would insist that I stay at the vacation home.  I was just going to have to call around and find someone I liked.  I could do this.  I had bought a house before.  At least I had bought half a house before but Ryan had taken care of most of that.  I didn't even like our realtor then.

I could feel my earlier confidence about my decision beginning to shake.  The tears started to swell in my eyes as I drove through Big Spring and headed back to the vacation home.  I just needed to leave.  I needed to go back to Jacksonville, continue teaching, and live in misery for the rest of my life because no matter what I did to my home Ryan would still be a part of it.  Even if I moved into a different home in Jacksonville there would still be constant reminders of him, of us.  I was right back to where I started.  No direction for where my life was going or where it needed to go.  There was a time in my life where I would have asked God for direction here but, at this time in my life, regardless of what anyone else said, God had left me.  God wouldn't answer or help me.  I was alone.  Alone with two children to raise, who needed me to be strong for them because they were as lost and confused as I was.

I pulled into the driveway of the vacation home and allowed my mind to think about how amazing it would be to live here.  Bennett had designed the home on his own after searching the area for years trying to find a place he loved.  The vacation home was a two story, well three if you counted the garage as a floor, home built on top of a bluff.  It had a very Frank Lloyd Wright feel to it.  The outside was all natural wood siding stained in a medium red wood color and almost wall to wall windows.  You drove right into the bottom floor to park your car or your boat or your ATV or whatever vehicle you had need for at a river.  It was really just a slab of concrete with huge wooden telephone poles being used as supports for the rest of the house.  Actually I thought the wood telephone poles were really steal beams surrounded by rounded wood facade but I couldn't remember for sure.  It was wide open.  No garage doors, no gates, almost like a fancy carport with stairs in the middle.

I got out of the car, struggled to get my 40 pound child and my 30 pound child out of the car without waking up either of them and began climbing up the stairs.  I wanted to just sit down and cry.  I didn't want to do this for the rest of my life by myself.  I didn't want to have to take care of two children alone.  Ryan and I had always said we could only have two because then they didn't out number us.  Now, I was outnumbered.  What choice did I have though?  These two beautiful children were the only family I had left.  They needed me and somehow we would survive.  Hopefully do a little better than just survive.  My thoughts carried me and my sleeping children to the first floor of living space.  The couches were just to my left and I scurried quickly to plop each child on a separate couch.  I collapsed in the chair facing the fireplace and just stared.  What was I going to do?  I needed some guidance, some inspiration, maybe a fairy godmother. "Someone help me," I quietly muttered as a drifted to sleep.

As I began waking up I could feel eyes staring at me.  I could feel a person's body heat on either side of my body.  I kept my eyes closed and waited for a few seconds to see if my children would say anything.  My son was the first to speak up.

"I think she's dead," he said in his cute little three year old voice.

"She's not dead, she's sleeping so let's leave her alone," my daughter stated.  My daughter had always been the one to take pity on her old mom.  I could still feel them staring at me.  I began to develop my plan.  I tried to feel where their bodies were without making a move.  Then as I felt them move, I opened my eyes, screamed, and tackled both of them to the floor in a massive tickle war.  It was me versus them and I knew I would loose the battle.  I was the most ticklish person on the face of the planet but it was well worth the torture to hear my children laugh to the point of gasping for air.

"I'm hungry," my son said abruptly standing up thus indicating that the war was over.

"Okay, little man what are you going to fix for dinner?" I asked anxiously awaiting my favorite response.

"Oh, Momma, don't be silly.  I am just to small to fix dinner," Josh said with a grin on his face.  I smiled.  I didn't think I could ever get enough of his oh Momma's.  I hopped up forcing myself to be energetic and plodded over to the kitchen with Thing 1 and Thing 2 in tow.  The kitchen was really just an extension of the living room and dinning room.  It sat in the Southeast corner of the house which was the perfect location to watch the morning sunrise as you cooked breakfast and not experience added afternoon heat when you cooked dinner.  I stood staring into the refrigerator.

"Well," I said with a smile, "I could make turnip greens, frog legs, or gizzards."

"Eeeewwwww!"

"Don't like my ideas huh?  Well do either of you have a better idea?"

"Pizza, hot dogs, Jolly Cone, Dairy Shack, chips, and ice cream," rang out in a chorus so loud I couldn't distinguish which child said what.

"Okay, okay, okay."  I could tell this wasn't going to be an easy win but we had been driving all afternoon and with gas almost $4 a gallon, it was a battle I was going to win.  "I'm going to give you some options.  Each of you can pick one.  If they match up, great that's what we'll eat.  If they don't match up, I'll draw out of a hat.  Deal?  Okay, I can make grilled cheese and tomato soup, black bean enchiladas with cheese sauce, you get to eat chips with this one, or lasagna."  I held my breath hoping they would choose the same one and to my surprise, they did.

"Enchiladas," both of my children said at the same time with laughter in their voice.

Score!  That was what I wanted to make which of course is why I told them they could eat chips if I made that.  My children loved helping me cook.  They had always loved helping me cook.  Every night at least one if not both of them would be in the kitchen working.  Ever since Ryan had...well let's just say recently I had both of them more often then not.  We began cooking our meal together, with me making sure that Emma let her brother help.  After putting the enchiladas in the oven, we cleaned up our meal preparation mess and set the table.  The dining room table looked odd in this house to me.  It was some sort of round metal trough looking pedestal with a thick piece of round wood sitting on top of it.  It definitely had a consistent design feel to it but a round table in such a square and linear house had always been odd.  Ryan's grandfather had round tables in all of his homes though.  He said round tables reminded everyone sitting there that they were equals and kept them honest.  I think he played a lot of poker.  As Emma finished putting out the silverware the timer beeped telling us dinner was ready.  I pulled out the enchiladas as the smell of peppers, chicken and cumin filled the room.  We had just sat down to pray, yes I still modeled faith for my children even though I was currently filled with a lack of faith, when my phone rang.  I glanced at the number and recognized the area code as Jacksonville.  My breath caught in my throat.

*Don't forget to give me your thoughts.  Especially if you eventually want to find out what happens.*

Not Exactly Fairy Tale

Let me start by explaining what I'm going to do with some of my posts. A person whom I hope was not just an appearance maker in my life suggested that I write a book. I'm having some difficulties narrowing down my ideas. I thought instead of my picking, I would write the first part of my ideas on my blog and let my readers help me decide. Let me also say ahead of time that these will be fiction stories but will of course be influenced by my experiences in life. I may also write in the first person. Please don't assume that anything in my book writings is true.  My characters will be fictitious. Thanks for helping me and enjoy the read!

I remember the day that horrible thought first swept through my mind. I was curled up in the corner of my bathroom with tears streaming down my face. My chest was heaving as I tried with all my might to keep silent. I had finally broken. I had lost the ability to hold my emotions in check. My family was sitting at the table eating my delicious dinner and I was near hysterical on the cold marble tile of my bathroom floor.

I looked over at my floor length oval mirror and I didn't even recognize the person I saw. My eyes were not only red and puffy from my brief fit but they had a look of pure misery.  Not misery, rage.  I was furious.  I couldn't believe this was happening again.  I had worked all day in a job I was supposed to love but really resented, came home took care of meeting my children's needs and cooking dinner and my husband was going to sit at the table with his phone checking Twitter and Facebook, again.  This after I had kindly asked him to not bring his phone to the table.  

"I want out.  I want to take the kids and leave.  I want a divorce." I was utterly shocked the minute the words silently exited my mouth.  I stared at myself in the mirror.  Who was this person in the mirror?  It couldn't be me.  I took vows and I married the man of my dreams, my knight in shining armor.  I couldn't possibly have even thought that divorce was the answer.  I splashed some water on my face, gave my body a good shake, plastered a smile on my face and walked back to the dinner table to finish eating with my perfect family.

For the next few nights I became very quite and thought a lot about the state of my marriage and how everything had changed.  It felt as if my brain and my heart were at war and I didn't have a clue who was going to win.  My brain was saying my life was falling apart and my heart was saying it'll get better.  I didn't know what to do.  Who do you talk to about your life falling apart when everyone thinks you are the luckiest woman alive? That's what pre-marital counseling should tell you.  They should give you resources on what to do if you start thinking about divorce.  Who was my pre-marital counselor anyway?  Maybe she does have some resources.  Of course if I call her then I would be admitting to someone that I can't take care of my marriage and that I'm a complete failure.  After the week finished, I was still at loss.  

So, here I was stuck in a world that was exactly what I wanted by appearance and nothing at all what I wanted in every matter that counted.  I got out of bed at the sound of my youngest crying through the baby monitor and looked at my husband who had covered his head with a pillow to drown out the sound.  "Must be nice," I thought to myself, "just cover your head and pretend your child doesn't need you."  I made the trip down the hall opened the door and scooped up my third little angel.  Her cries immediately stopped and she snuggled close as we marched down the dark stairs to the kitchen.  Our routine was peaceful.  Sometimes it was the only thing in the day that I could depend on being perfect.  I went to grab a cup from the shelf and there wasn't one.  I looked on the counter, still no baby cup.  I dreadfully opened the dishwasher with it's light that said not clean lit up.  Of course, all of my baby's cups were sitting in a dishwasher that was full and had soap in it but had not been started.  "If I have to be up at 5 in the morning and I don't even have a clean cup for Delilah, then you're going to be the one to get up and wash it...BY HAND," I said in my head to my husband. I stormed upstairs and down the hall with my feet slapping against the bare wood floor.  I flung open the door and was received by the fake, startled gasp.

"Is something wrong?" Robert asked.

"Yes, something is extremely wrong.  Delilah doesn't have a clean cup and if I try to put her down she'll scream and then wake up everyone in the house," I snapped.

"So, you'd rather just wake up me?" Robert said as he replaced the pillow over his head and rolled over.

"If I'm gonna have to do everything on my own like a single mom I might as well be a single mom," I quietly said as I once again slapped my feet down the hall.

Once back in the kitchen I managed to hand wash the cup while holding my baby, got her milk and snuggled down in our favorite chair with a book. She drank her milk and while I was reading her book to her I began wondering how hard it really would be to be a single mom.  I wondered why people even got married in the first place.  Maybe a hundred years ago it was important to have someone to take care of you and procreate legitimately "in the eyes of the Lord" but women fought hard to get people to understand that we can take care of ourselves and who really knows what God thinks about out of wed-lock pregnancies anyway.  Of course my pregnancies were all in wed-lock so I was safe there.

"Maaaam!" My daughter startled me back to reality and signed that she was hungry.  So we went to make breakfast.  As I cooked my favorite breakfast meal of bacon spinach quiche, any excuse to eat pie crust for breakfast, I could feel my anger from the morning melting away.  I knew this recipe by heart and it was effortless to make.  It was one of the only ways to get my family to eat spinach which I guess is supposed to be some sort of super food or something.  It was also one of the only recipes I could quickly manage with a baby on my hip for 98% of the time.  My Delilah smiled and chattered as she watched me cook.  I gave her the fork and let her stir the mixture.  We poured the egg mixture into the pie shell and stuck it in the oven and grabbed a snack while we waited for the quiche to cook.

An hour later, the quiche was cooling, the table was set for breakfast, and I was waking up all my men in the house.  My husband and two sons were silently going through their morning routine as I fed Delilah.  Robert was the first to make it to the table.  Neither of us spoke to each other.  He was almost finished eating when I asked, "do you think you could watch Delilah while I jump in the shower?"  I tried to keep my tone in check but wasn't as successful as I had hoped.

"I haven't take a shower in like a week," Robert responded.

"Okay," I replied while secretly thinking about how gross that was and wondering why he didn't make time for a shower and mentally adding that to the list of reasons to divorce.  Okay, that was a stupid reason but still super gross.  I just got up and took Delilah with me towards the shower.  On the way upstairs I passed my oldest Atticus who gave me a cheery high five, then Bonnie who looked barely awake, and Caleb who had his hands full of "exploring gear".  I gave Delilah some toys and hopped in the shower finishing in record speed with my frustration with my husband mounting equally as fast.

When I got downstairs the kids were ready to go so I snatched them up and we were out the door.  All of the kids said good bye to their father, I did not as I was seriously contemplating changing the locks before he got home, or maybe just packing up the kids and moving in with my father, God help us.

Broken Barriers

For those of you that know me well, you know or have seen that the past year has been a struggle for me.  I've been in a season of change and it's been one of the more difficult periods of my life.  I've been in one of those seasons in my life where intrinsically I was questioning EVERYTHING.  I was questioning my callings in life, my faith, my profession...everything. I have been blessed enough to have some amazing people in my life stand by my through this roller coaster of a year and support me even when none of us knew what I wanted or needed. Today, I am putting to rest this past year.

I am attending a workshop called Great Expectations which is an amazing approach to educating.  My instructor has been fabulous but really outdid herself today.  One of the things I have felt this year is a lack of dreams, thus a lack of direction with my life.  I have everything I've ever wished for and once achieving these things was left wondering what to do next.  I was really at the point where I felt it was almost pointless to dream anything else because it couldn't possible come true.  Our information today was all about dreaming.  As a part of making our dreams come true we had to identify our dreams and the barriers that keep us from those dreams.

I sat in this classroom all day, literally trying to avoid listening to my instructor because what she was saying was hitting too close to home.  I would feel tears well up in my eyes.  I was doing everything to keep them hidden.  I would look up at the ceiling, close my eyes, pretend to be yawning so I could rub them and anything else I could think of to keep my tears from streaming down my face in front of my brand new co-workers.

"You are going to break through these boards and I am going to teach you how to do it so that everyone in this room is successful," my instructor confidently shared with us.  The skepticism was so thick hanging in the room you could feel it.  We have every type of person in our class; athletic, frail, overweight, old, young, energetic, reserved, confident, doubtful and everything in between.  I think each of us started out thinking that our instructor had lost her mind.  In my mind I knew that she wouldn't ask us to do this if she wasn't confident it would work, and she had done this same thing last week so if it hadn't worked, she certainly wouldn't be doing it with us this week.  But my heart was reserved and doubt began creeping in as I was watching her model our task.  There was no way I was going to break this board on the first try.  Maybe I would break it after ten hits and it was a little weaker from being beaten.

We picked our boards, and proceeded to write on our boards those barriers that kept us from achieving our dreams.  I wasn't sure at first what my barriers were going to be and as I sat there staring at my blank board I began to clear my mind, knowing that this practice would open my mind to accept God's voice. I began writing the first barrier on my board and this voice said dig deeper.  So, naturally I listened a little more and began writing a second barrier and again a voice said something in my head (yes I might be slightly mentally disturbed because I do sometimes think I hear voices).  The voice said one word and I thought of course.  I struggled writing this word on my board, at times my hand shaking as if it was afraid of the word or not wanting to finish.  Finally, after the board breaking had begun around me I finished my writing, found a partner and opened my eyes to look and feel my barriers.

I prepared to hit my 1 inch thick board by taking my stance, one foot in front, soft knees, arms offset. It was the same stance I had used in my self defense class which as I think about that is kind of ironic or interesting because by breaking this board I was defending myself against myself and a lack of ambition that was taking me over.  I took a couple of practice motions making sure that I had the placement on the board correct and that I wasn't going to miss the board completely and fall flat on my face.  I began pushing out of my mind everyone else in the room and focusing solely on the task in front of me.  I was going to break this board.  I was going to stop letting doubt have a place in my life.  But with each practice motion thoughts of doubt creeped into my brain.  Then it happened.

Almost without me even knowing what was going on it happened.  I had prepared myself ahead of time to do everything down to the yelling expulsion of breath the way we were told to.  And then, I didn't. I was fully anticipating another practice when my mind just completely cleared and as I brought my arm forward in what seemed like slow motion my voice in my head said just another excuse.  My hand smashed right through the board on the first try with a liberating movement.  Liberating because I had done this kind of "manly thing"; liberating because I was back in my self defense movements (something that I loved); but, liberating mostly because the last word I wrote on my barrier board was 'excuses'. 

The adrenaline was amazing and I didn't know whether I wanted to cry or laugh but I felt alive for the first time in a long time.  I took a few minutes to regain my composure.  I checked my hand to make I hadn't broken anything.  I washed the purple marker off my palm and had the opportunity to hold the board for my partner who also broke his board on the first try.  Then I proceeded to text pictures to two of the people that have both caused my struggles and helped me through them...my husband and my brother.

For me it was easy to say that poor time management is what keeps me from my most recent dreams.  It was even kind of easy say poor self esteem because I'm used to that. However for me, I know that my biggest barrier is making excuses for everything.  I don't want to work out because Mr. Man won't work out with me.  I don't want to read that book because I'm tired. I don't want to pick up the kids toys because they are just going to get them right back out.  I make excuses for everything and today is the beginning of the end of them.  While it may be a long process, today, my life changes and I begin to take action!

An Eery Silence

As promised in my previous post, here is the unexpected turn in our exploration adventure. On our way back home Mr. Man randomly decided to turn up this street instead of just going home. We drove about a quarter of a mile when we started seeing some downed powerlines next to brand new poles. In Oklahoma this means one of two things...either the sight was caught by wind or a tornado. Judging by our location and incredible knowledge (thanks to D. Payne and the rest of KFOR) we knew it was the latter.

We continued driving and I really thought maybe we'd see some trees bent and broken but nothing could have prepared me for what we saw.

As we drove farther I began to get an unsettled feeling like something wasn't right. It was about that time when I glanced at the top of a hill and realized that the house or farm or whatever it was that was supposed to be there wasn't. We sat there staring in disbelief with a driveway leading to nothing on one side of our street and the mangled top of a silo on the other, close enough to touch.

An eery silence came over us as we sat there and I had this strange urge to get out of the car and kneel on this broken land. I felt the power of the tornado speak through it's damage and felt an urge to tell the tornado I understood. I finally understood what it was capable of.

Pictures are sad and unsettling but following a path of destruction and seeing with your own eyes the sheet metal sticking through a tree or the soda can wrapped around a barb wire fence or a hundred year old tree twisted like a piece of paper turned into a telescope is beyond words. It's an experience I think everyone in Oklahoma needs. We all laugh about Mike Morgan's weather tie and D. Payne's sense of adventure but if you weren't below ground and this tornado was a direct hit, you didn't stand a chance. Seeing the destruction with my own eyes and feeling the power of this amazing storm sealed my mind that if there is ever a chance a tornado might come towards me we leave! We will no longer wait and see...we leave!

My Mr.Man took numerous pictures and I'm sure he's posted them to his blog...check out becksbytes.blogspot.com

Las Exploradoras!

For those of you that don't know what that means, it's Spanish for explorers.  That is what the family and I did today.  It was a sandstone exploration adventure and those of you that are true Oklahomans know what that means.  For those of you that aren't, I'll provide a short description.  You hop in a truck or SUV with gloves, shovels, and water (it's hot here now) and set out driving away from civilization.  Once you find a dirt road, you turn on that and then turn on another dirt road, and then maybe one more dirt road.  From there you start exploring for sandstone.

Sandstone exploration is an in-depth and high-tech process that really requires multiple people.  One person has to drive while at least one other person is watching the gullies on the side of the road for sandstone.  Once the sandstone is spotted, the driver must slow almost to a creep so that the spotters can determine whether the sandstone is loose and can be picked up or if it is stuck in the ground.  Why look in the gullies you might ask?  The rushing water in the gullies sometimes causes the very brittle sandstone shelves to break off.  These broken pieces are just the ones you're looking for to create whatever sandstone landscaping you might want.

Today was the first time we took a child with us that could actually help.  It was a fabulous experience and The Little Man had a blast.  We found a few pieces early on that were extra brittle due to the extreme dry weather we've had recently.  Then we happened on a hub of sandstone rocks.  Mr. Man was loading them up when The Little Man decided he wanted to help.  As The Little Man ran around the truck to help his dad, I noticed some dense foliage by the hub and reminded The Little Man not to touch it because we don't know if he's allergic to poison ivy and while I have no idea what poison ivy looks like, I really don't want to have a miserable Little Man.  Mr. Man froze, slowly looked towards the foliage and regretfully announced that it was all poison ivy and he was pretty sure he had gotten into it.  Now, those of you that know Mr. Man know that he is extremely allergic to poison ivy...thus, I expect the steroid shot bill to come in about five days from now.

That ended the sandstone exploration.  It was a sad way to end it but did encounter another adventure of the awe inspiring kind on our way home, but, that's for another post.

Summer Reading

I love reading! So, when I realized I would be in the car traveling for six hours at a time I was ecstatic because I knew I could get in some great reading time. I was correct. I read two complete books and am about half way done with the third.

The first book is a part of a series by Joanne Flunke. The books are a very quick read and easy to figure out "who dun it." That for me makes it more fun because I find myself yelling at the main character to not go to so and so's house because they are the murderer. Each of the books is filled with recipes! I am hoping to try some out but definitely need some places to dump cookies. I am sure my neighbors and maybe my mom's clinic will gladly accept some!

The next book was the most recent in the house of night series. I have written about this series previously and really enjoy reading them but I am astonished to see young children reading them. This most recent one really disappointed me because it not only had S-E-X scenes but the author also used the f word. In a book written for adults this still bothers me but I understand that sometimes that's the character that the author needs to portray. This book however is not a book for adults. This series is read by children that I know as young as fourth grade. I felt it was very irresponsible of the author to include the scene she did and the language that she did.

The last book I'm working on is called Mr. Peanut. It is really good and a little bit eye opening. Currently it's a did the husband kill the wife mystery but the difference so far is that it discusses in detail the reasons for killing a spouse and shockingly enough I can actually sympathize with the suspect. I heard about the book on NPR and so far I am well pleased.

I also read Nate the Great and Jigsaw Jones with the little man. He loved them both. Jigsaw is a second grade detective and I was surprised at some of the things the book talked about but, I'm sure I'm just naive about what second graders are like.

If you have any good book ideas or want my input on a book, let me know what it is...I will be reading a lot this summer!

Wool, Copper, and Desk Sets

In my previous blog you read about my fabulous dress shopping experience in search of the perfect dress to wear for my seventh anniversary.  Just over seven years ago I married my knight in shining armor.  I expected a fairytale life from then on and I can honestly say that the vast majority of our time has been just that.  We've had our fair share of trials and children definitely add a whole new depth to a relationship but, through it all we have persevered and will continue to grow together...hopefully!

This post will not however be all about the mushy, gushy, how much we love each other business.  This post is all about the seventh anniversary date and the seventh anniversary gift.  Did you know that wool, copper, and desk sets are the suggested seventh anniversary gifts?  As my facebook friends know, I was having a terrible time deciding which dress to wear.  I posted pictures and got mixed responses though most of them leaned toward wearing the black one for the date.

I woke up Sunday morning with an ingenious idea.  I would wear both dresses...not at the same time of course because that would look silly.  I would wear the yellow dress to church and our lunch with my parents, then transition into the black dress for a night on the town.  It was the perfect plan!  I should have known as soon as I said, "this is perfect" that it would not be quite so perfect.

Everything went exactly as planned until about 9:30 am when we arrived at the church for Sunday School.  I got out of the car and was greeted by my least favorite aspect of Oklahoma...everyone altogether now...THE WIND!!!  My car door blew open so hard that it left a big scratch on the car next to me. (I hope that person doesn't read my blog.)  I could barely keep my below knee length skirt from pulling a Marilyn Monroe on me.  In fact, I probably could have taken a picture exactly like that.  After hurrying into the church with the skirt of my dress pulled as tightly to my body as possible, I was greeted with an office full of huge eyes.  Did I have gravy or fruit loop dust all of my dress already?  No one said anything, so I scurried into Andy's office and did a quick look over.  Nothing on the dress, all important parts of the body were covered, no marker or huge mascara lines on my face.  Hmmmm.  A few minutes later after walking the Little Man to his class one of the church members came up and said, "you look absolutely breathtaking."  I was stunned but managed a very shy thank you and proceeded to go hide in the youth room and eavesdrop on the revelations discussion on of the Sunday school classes was having.  Dead horses...really? 

After church we spent a couple of hours at my parents having an early Memorial Day lunch because my dad had to work on Memorial Day.  Andy took a picture of me in the yellow dress and you can see how windy it is:

We went back home to prepare for the evening.  At this point I still don't know where we are going for dinner or what we are doing afterwards.  The anticipation is killing me.  My mind was in full on hyperactive mode.  "Maybe we're going to the Melting Pot, he said that was on his radar.  Or maybe we're going to Hastings, I've been talking about how much I want to go there, or maybe he's taking me to Cafe Nova, we haven't been there in a while, or maybe he's taking me someplace new that we haven't been to.  No I bet he's taking me to Melting Pot, but maybe..." and so on all afternoon.  (You have to read that part with a really fast, high pitched voice to get the full effect of my brain that afternoon.)

As I was getting dressed, I realized I had a problem.  I didn't have a purse to go with my dress.  Either I was buying a something or I was going without a purse.  Well, my knight didn't want to carry my phone, ID, gum, lipstick, and cash so I opted to buy a nice little purse to go with the dress.  Actually I matched the purse with my sunglasses that are super glam.  I couldn't believe that I found the exact shade I needed.  I did run into a problem upon entering the car after my super find.  My short little skirt on my perfect black dress was definitely going to fly up if I was outside for any length of time.

We ended up eating at Deep Fork Grill which was amazing.  We got a wonderful parking spot which was crucial in me not mooning the entire parking lot with the strong wind working against my quest for perfection.  The chef sent out complimentary chicken bruschettes and our waitress brought out complimentary strawberry cake which was by far the most moist cake I have ever eaten.  Upon finishing dinner Andy informed me that his plan would not work because of the wind.  He had planned to spend an hour or so walking around Bricktown before seeing a late movie but with the wind that was a no go.  So, instead we went down to a very secluded location for a photo op of me in my black dress:

 After a couple of quick photos before the security guards got any sneak peaks, we drove home to watch some TV and change clothes, again, for the movie.  I opted for my favorite holey jeans with an incredibly soft t-shirt that could have been used in the movie Footloose.  We watched bridesmaids which was just the right amount of crude humor for me.  I understood most of it and thought there were some incredibly funny parts.  I actually laughed out loud... a lot.  I was a huge fan of Dougie's sister on the airplane and loved that they gave her character some depth to pull the main character out of her depression.  I also loved that the will they won't they love interest was just some average policeman.

At about midnight we arrived back home, I crawled in bed with a still very full tummy and slept until 8 am thanks to Mimi and Papa who had a sleepover with this kids.  It was a fabulous day.  The weather was gorgeous if you forgot about the wind.  For a few short hours I was able to actually let go of my need to control everything and have some planned and unplanned fun with the man that I love.  It reminded me a lot of when we were dating, a feeling that I've been missing lately.  That pretty much sums up the seventh anniversary date for you.  Yeah for seven years of marriage!  I can't wait to see what the next 60 bring us!