My 11 Year Valentine and a Question

Dear Readers-

Say this outloud-“Valentine’s Day“. How did that make you feel? Weird? Whimsical? Oddly Nostalgic?
Those two words can bring horror to men everywhere and extremely ridiculous expectations from women across the globe.
Because Biceps and I like to circumvent the traditional in almost every area of our lives-Valentine’s day is no exception. Instead of dressing up, waiting in line for hours only to be surrounded by several hundred other “romantic couples” and interrupted by the waiter, we usually participate in this ritual at home. We like to plan our time together and alleviate stress and expectations, which in turn-eliminates arguments.

I mean, why flaunt this around town when I can keep it to myself at home? Seriously.

Last year, we chose meals for breakfast, lunch and dinner from different cultures and required of ourselves to wear appropriate clothing. (I have photos, but they are way to incriminating of our weirdness…)
-For Breakfast-Egg Pancakes (German)-lederhosen for Biceps and a wool skirt for me.
-For Lunch-Tacos (Mexican)-top buttoned flannel shirt, tank top and jewelry for Biceps and a mexican dress for me.
-And for Dinner-Sushi (Asian)-ninja costume for Biceps and chopsticks and asian dress for me.

This year, Biceps will be doing this on Valentine’s Day.

And, he’ll be doing this the morning we’ve chosen to celebrate Valentine’s Day.

So, if you wanted to make Valentine’s Day special for this guy-my question is-what would you do?

And as always-keep it PG ladies….

Anything better than a Fireman holding a baby?

I contest that there is not-unless you happen to have your own fireman and he’s holding your own baby.

I am typically not one of those girls that wants to breathe in the “smell of a baby”. Personally, I think babies emit a lot of weird odors.

And I don’t get a kick out of their fat rolls, their spit-up, their farts or their saliva.
I’m just not there yet-don’t judge. I know it will happen once I have my own-or so I’ve been told.

But until then, I can gaze upon this picture of my hot fireman-Biceps-with our sweet little nephew-who appears to be milk drunk. I do so in the quietness of my childless home and ask-is there anything better than this?

Small Town Parade

I grew up in a small town in Kansas. A traffic jam might occur after our hometown football team–the Kansas State Wildcats–would win against Nebraska-causing the agricultural students to pull out their tractors and zoom 5 m.p.h. down our main drag.

 

Graphic courtesy of: albumelossless.wordpress.com
The only signs I witnessed of the “big-town” mentality was a coffee shop (that flopped) and the outrage over Metallica coming to play at our stadium-only to be greeted by a bunch of picketing conservatives.

 

Now that I live in the booming metropolis of Tulsa (which is really still considered a mid-sized town), I miss my hometown roots. I miss knowing the old men hanging out at the donut shop, the guy bagging our groceries and the names of everyone in my church.
I miss the small town parades full of “Sunflower Queens”, insurance company-sponsored floats, tractors, horse poop and candy.
So, I was elated when Biceps’ fire department participated in their district’s hometown parade just outside of Tulsa.

 

I grabbed my cute mother-in-law, made some coffee and headed out in hopes of witnessing combines (pronounced kom-bines) going down the road, noisy high school bands and scary clowns.

 

It became immediately clear that I would not be disappointed.

 

Of course, the Shriner’s were there. It’s not a real small town parade without them.

 

I don’t understand what exactly the “Shriner’s” are or even what they do-but I like seeing their very weird cars and eating the candy they throw at me.

 

The horses are typically put at the end of a parade-due to what comes out of their back end. However, these furry dudes were smack dab in the center of the parade.

 

Right before the fire department made their grand entrance. The boys had to dodge heaps of you-know-what.

 

This guy here is a good friend and belongs to the same fire department as Biceps.
He’s one of the sweetest men you’ll ever meet and lucky for him-he’s married to one of the sweetest ladies I’ve ever met in a long time. And yes, this is his really cute Dalmatian.
Too perfect.
The fire department was one of the highlights of the parade-at least for me and my mother-in-law.

 

We were so proud of this guy that’s throwing candy. At me and his mother.
He is so naughty. But you already knew that.

 

Boy, does he think he’s funny.
With my need for the small town parade satisfied, mother-in-law and I loaded up our candy booty and headed off to pick up the naughty boy, while dodging the horse poop left on the street.
Ah, I love the small town parade. It will tide me over until I can go “home” sometime soon.

Happy Birthday, Biceps

It’s the most wonderful time of the year! Biceps is growing closer to being an old man, and furiously trying to catch up to my old age.

 

We are six months apart, and I Lord this fact over him from time to time. It’s really funny when Grandma insists that we go by age for our line-up at prayer time. He has to go first. Hah.

 

But, since it’s his Birthday today, I am going to make this short and sweet.

 

I love this man. And here are a few reasons why:

1. He is the hardest worker I have ever seen.
2. He is one of the most positive people in my life.
3. He is faithful to me.
4. He opens my door. Every time.
5. He just sent his mother and me on a “Pamper Day”. But, he is the one busting his behind for 13 hours a day at his new job.
6. He puts God first, then me second-before himself-before football. And he LOVES football.
7. He is my best friend.

Happy Birthday, darling. I love you.