Naked conversation …

This weekend’s spa soak found us once again solving world problems by means of logic, common sense, and positive thinking in the face of current events.  No, really.

KIM: So if the economy crashes again, we should have a realistic idea what we might do.

ME: Realistically, a van down by the river would be a plan.  No problemo, baby, I’d live under a bridge with you.

KIM: Or how about an Airstream?  We could get a cool antique truck to pull it with.


KIM: What?

ME: You need to focus.




He knows I’m serious about the “whither thou goest” schtick, though, partly because we were in the bathtub when I said it and he always tells me you can’t lie to somebody when you’re naked.

Also, Headline Checker App, I didn’t appreciate my low grade on this one and I’m not sure your management style meshes with our goals at present, so buh-bye.  Who needs that kind of negativity … jeez.




I’m late, I’m late, for a very important date!!!




First post on my Facebook feed this morning was a Happy Anniversary wish from our son John.  It’s our 11th … and both of us spaced it off completely, a first in that number of years.  We are, joyfully and officially, The Old Married Couple.  We’ve been cutting Hallmark short since about year five, our favorite flowers ever were the ones at our wedding, and neither of us needs chocolates, so nothing lost — it rained a bit ago and cooled off the oven that’s been raging outside our door, so we’ll probably walk the half-block to Cielito’s, our home away from home, and celebrate on their big patio with the best margaritas in town. 




Eleven years ago today, we got married after the close of the morning church service, and then our pastor and friends served lunch to about 300 people.  Simple, beautiful, memorable, sweet, and fun.




Happy.  So happy.




Our glamour photo shoot — a gift from Kim for my birthday not long after our wedding.




Yeah.  This guy.




The newlyweds today.  A lot of changes can happen in eleven years’ time, but the basics stay the same, and that’s so cool.



The Thankfulness Season

So we made it past the Halloween shenanigans, and now the fast train that was 2014 is bearing down on Thanksgiving and Christmas when hearts overflow and gratitude gets top billing for a few short weeks.

In the spirit of the season I’m asking myself, Self, what are you most grateful for?  I always like to get a second opinion on weighty matters so I asked my husband, too.  He suggested that maybe I’m thankful I don’t live in my car or under a bridge, or that I eat good food at a table every day instead of from a dumpster.  He may or may not have mentioned the clean water that flows on demand from every tap in the house, but it would be just like him to do that.  I’m pretty freaking thankful for all those things, sure, and a comprehensive list of my personal benedictions wouldn’t have any place to end.

But I knew we had a winner when he said, “Well, you should be thankful you aren’t any shorter than you are.”  For a hot second I felt pissed, not grateful, but I’m a realist and I’ve seen the pictures — I’m clearly not as height-intensive as some people out there.

After a careful examination of the evidence, however, I feel I’ve been mislabeled — It isn’t that I’m short, he simply overachieved in height-training, much as in everything else he does.  And just like that, we have a perfectly legit place to start on this being thankful thing.  I’ve GOT this.  The Big Turkey and the Elf on a Shelf (I detest that li’l sumbish) are putting stars next to my name as we speak.

Moonbeam and Othello say hey and peace out …






Living in a state called Thankfulness …

Good morning!  It’s Tuesday, and time to consider being thankful.  Oddly enough, it’s no struggle to be severely grateful for this guy every day of the week.  The dude loves me.  Saved my life.  Keeps me absurdly happy.  If I told you more he’d have to kill you.  I call him … Guido.




Daily Prompt: Feed Your Senses

Write down the first sight, sound, smell, and sensation you experienced on waking up today.

The sounds were the first to register on my barely conscious brain this cool, overcast SaturYAY morning — a raucous bird chorus on the other side of the sliding doors.  The first wonderful sensation arrived when my baby-doll rolled over and pulled me into a delicious spooned-up embrace.  I slid back under the heavy veil of sleep and he trekked to the kitchen to grind coffee beans; therefore, the only truly acceptable morning smell — freshly-brewed coffee — reached my olfactory receptors soon after.  Sight was the last sense to join the party, since it requires the eyes to be open.  Through the patio doors I glimpsed the grape ivy that four or five short days ago looked positively dead and gone.  It’s just getting started and will eventually cover the entire wall with thick leaves, but it’s already a thrilling affirmation that life happens!



So, are you a people-pleaser?

Were you raised on a farm?  In a tiny town?  A metro area, but within a tight-knit neighborhood where people knew your business before you did?  Then you’re already on the same page with me.  If none of that fits you, I’m not sure I have enough words to explain it to you.

I was raised on a farm close to a tiny town that was one tight-knit neighborhood, and those people definitely knew my business.  All of it – some of which I never knew happened until I heard about it second-hand.

I’m sure it’ll shock you to know I grew up a people-pleaser from about Day One.  I wasn’t necessarily a Good Girl, but it was wildly important to me that people think I was — all those relatives and townspeople who were older than I, and whose lives I knew nothing about.  What a revelation when I grew up, left home, and started hearing the stories about THEM … of course, by then it was too late.

There’s also the unfortunate fact that a certain amount of suck-up-ish-ness seems to be genetically transmitted.  There were kids in school who couldn’t possibly have cared any less what some classmate or adult thought of them and the things they did.  It was “Get outta my way, I’m on a roll here.”  My guess is most of them ended up in politics.

I wanted to please my parents, my grandparents, my Sunday school teachers, my school teachers, I wanted to somehow please God, none of which is a bad thing.  But who was I?   I got married at 22 and was at least 50 before I stopped trying to make every word out of my mouth, every desire of my heart, every dream line up with what I thought my husband wanted.

After a few years of getting to know myself and realizing that I could trust my own thoughts, I met and married a man who also trusts my brain and loves every inch of me as is.  I mean it when I say it’s fun to be me.

Meanwhile, a bunch of years stacked up and now my driver’s license claims I’m 65, which is beyond ridiculous.  I don’t want to be old, so I’m not.  But I do love the freedom of not having to care whether or not people approve of who I am.  Tact is a valuable commodity and I don’t set out to antagonize anyone, but neither do I censor my convictions.  My ideas and beliefs are as legitimate as the next person’s.  It took me a lifetime to get here and I’m not going back.

I recently reduced my Facebook friends list from far too many to still almost too much.  Those who remain are either family or are there for every other possible reason.  They’ll stay or go, as they decide.  The me you see is the me I am, end of story.


Love the wine you’re with!

Photo by Kim Smith

Love the Wine You're With


It’s the little things …

Daily Prompt: Describe a little thing — one of the things you love that defines your world but is often overlooked.


The freshly-ground coffee my husband makes every morning before my eyes are open.

That oversize steaming mug, delivered with a kiss.

Hot showers, satisfying work, the quiet rhythm of my house.

Music, music, music, under over around all of life.

Joy because this:  My husband.  My son.

The little things are the big things and there could never be just one.



It’s interesting to realize that even for two people who are without adult supervision and making it up every day as they go, the weekends still have their own special rhythm.  Saturday mornings continue to hold the extra buzz of knowing the day is fully ours even before we open our eyes.  The other days too, but the unique freedom of the weekend is imprinted on our psyches after all our years in the work force.

Saturday in good weather is a day for taking the recycle bins to the drop-off station … working in the yard … watching televised sports.  But first comes The Breakfast – Kim’s unmatched rendition of eggs and hash browns, followed by a long soak in the hot-tub and nonstop free-wheeling conversation.

And then Sunday morning dawns. Sundays are full of music and books and walks, and all the conversation and laughter two people can share.   Sundays are about feeling safe and quiet and loved.  Sundays are so sweet that we find ourselves wanting to postpone Monday mornings!   Silly us …

You’re On Your Own, Pal

You’re On Your Own, Pal.

I love Transman and his story … and this one touched my heart in a unique way.  It deserves to be Pressed.

My 100th Post

The following post is in celebration of my time on WordPress — one hundred posts since January, 2013.  My husband has retired a bit early, which is another reason for celebration, and he’s regaining his health and color more every day — the best reason for celebrating that I can think of.  Here’s to life and health!

Things I love about my life …

  • Slowly waking up, falling asleep again, rolling over, finally letting my eyes stay open.
  • Talking in bed, then spacing off in front of my computer while sweetums makes coffee.
  • Soaking in the hot-tub and talking, talking, talking.
  • Enjoying whatever the cook is in the mood to make for breakfast.
  • Spending the morning in our jammies, writing at our computers, sending each other emails … me upstairs, him in his downstairs studio … “This is funny.”  “You’ll like this.”  “Incredible musician – watch this clip!”
  • Meeting in the kitchen for soup or sandwiches or salad or leftovers.  Or maybe hopping in the car and sharing lunch out somewhere.
  • Afternoons spent doing housework or yardwork – sweet feeling of accomplishment.
  • Going for walks together, racking up steps on my Fitbit.
  • Healthy dinners, cooked with love.  A glass of wine served with conversation.  Reading side by side, watching TV, falling asleep, drifting back to bed for snuggles and more conversation.
  • Slowly waking up …


Judy thinks Kim is the best at spooning.

Judy thinks Kim is the best at spooning.


Life is full of joys …

Oh.My.Gosh.  My husband spent time this morning building a killer playlist for my iPhone.  Tears and chills … I could never get tired of this music.  The closing track is the two of us on keyboard and mandolin, recorded several years ago in his studio.  I somehow completely forgot we had it.  Such an amazing gift.  Bonnie Raitt’s “Feels Like Home,” playing now, says it all.  Thank you, love … for everything.



Happy Birthday, baby …

Today is my husband’s birthday and we’ve been celebrating since 7:30am.  There’s a lot to celebrate, not least of which is that he survived his heart attack and bypass surgery last summer so that we can have fun growing old together.  That’s our plan and we’re stickin’ to it.

In my humble opinion, he’s the most fabulous man on earth, and there are so many reasons why that’s true.  Please note that I didn’t say perfect … just fabulous.  He can’t seem to remember that if he leaves the dish cloth hanging from the rack in the sink, it becomes a spider ladder straight from the drain and that freaks me out.  Otherwise, he’s just pretty fabulous.  (Not that I’ve ever seen a spider crawl out of the drain, but one can never be too careful.)

We had The Saturday Breakfast this morning (made by the Birthday Boy, of course), soaked in the hot-tub, drank seemingly gallons of coffee, and watched the rain come down.  We’ve watched hours of NCAA basketball, he’s played hours of guitar, we’ve eaten leftovers and healthy snacks, and now we’re enjoying a glass of his birthday wine.  I really think he’s having a pretty good day.  Cheers, darlin’ … here’s to many, many more.



Out of the loop …

I’m baaaaa-ack — didja’ miss me?  Just one of those times when life piles on and full attention is required elsewhere.  Changes get made, exhaustion takes its toll, adjustments are required, and life moves on.  Had a wonderful two days away with my sweetie-pie, and a few other perfectly fine distractions were enjoyed, and now you get my smiling face once again.  Hope all’s well in your world!


brand new day




Let’s talk about happiness …

Daily Prompt

“And they lived happily ever after.” Think about this line for a few minutes. Are you living happily ever after? If not, what will it take for you to get there?

Am I living happily ever after?  The short answer is yes.  The long-form answer can be found in my January 30 post entitled “Behind Every Good Woman is a Good Man!”   The TMI answer is tucked safely away in my heart.

A happy life seems, in the end, to be part luck, part result of cumulative choices, part magic … and to stem in large measure from a willingness to work hard and to know when you have it good.

Living happily ever after doesn’t necessarily hinge on having a fairytale “other” to share your life with … but in my world it has certainly helped!


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