Slick, you ain't.....

I'll admit it here, out loud, for the first time that I have shower anxiety.

I totally blame it on Alfred Hitchcock, Janet Leigh and the shower scene from Psycho.

(If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend that you do NOT)

I don't like taking showers when no one else is home to help prevent Norman Bates (don't look him up) or any act-alikes from invading my bathroom space.

While I'm showering I always imagine I hear things.

The thought of which causes me to open my eyes in order to scan the small area where I stand naked and poised for victim-dome.

Which leads to shampoo and/or face soap entering and stinging my eyes.

Forcing a total head submersion (including both ears) under the shower stream.

Leading (of course) to total blindness, deafness and a vulnerability I'd rather not have (or even think about having).

So yesterday, for the millionth time this scene, in all it's insane insanity, played itself out.

I was under the water rinsing the soap from my eyes.

With that accomplished I tilted my head all the way back, stuck it under the shower head and rinsed the shampoo from my hair.

For a single solitary 30 seconds or so I was off guard and totally enjoying a moment free from thoughts of being attacked and stabbed to death in the shower.

As I brought my head forward, I slid my hands down from the top of my head towards the ends of my hair to get most of the water out.

Instantly I froze and took note of my surroundings.

 My eyes confirming what my gut had just told me.

Something/someone..??? was in the bathroom with me.

And that something/someone was attached to a cell phone that was being held up over the shower curtain recording my every move.

In an instant I did a memory scan (did I just wash my butt twice while on camera...?)

I bit my lower lip and without saying one word I looked straight into the camera and shook my head.

Wordlessly I picked up both hands and flipped the camera off.

F-u style.

The perpetrator had no idea that I was on to him and that he was being observed.

I watched as he silently pulled his recording device from the spot above my head.

I gave him a second or two to get out of the bathroom.

While he was outside the door reviewing his "catch",  I was on the other side of the bathroom door planning my retaliation.

I'd left the shower running and hid, dripping wet, behind the bathroom door.

It didn't take him long to watch the small film, see that he'd been caught, and turn to come back into the bathroom.

The counterattack was unexpected and (I might add) hilarious.

He fought me for all he was worth.

I punched him and called him names like "pervert" and "faaaa-reeeeeek".

I yelled "that'll teach ya" as I slapped at his head and tried to bite his arm.

After more than 30 years you'd think he'd learn.

Turning to mush....

Daddio is a man's man.

A simple translation could be that he has no time for touchy feely bull crap...(as he so eloquently calls most of my view of the world and those in it)...

While he is a wonderful man, I'd never call him "fuzzy" or "cuddly"....

or "squishy" or "soft".

Nah, Daddio is a man's man.

And if you have any experience at all with men's men you know they don't much like small talk.

Or idol chatter.

I idol chatter a lot.

 Daddio says I must like to hear myself talk.

I am kind of a good conversationalist.

And we three, me, myself and I couldn't agree more.

Late at night I often find myself looking for an ear to bend.

When it's time to hit the sheets Daddio will generously say "I'll give you a fifteen minute head start to get whatever it is that you have to get done before bed".....

That is code talk for... "cage the dog, plug in the cell phones, set up the coffee for automatic morning brewing, grab some medicine, a glass of water, double check to make sure the doors are locked, hit the potty, call any sleeping away from home children to say nighty night...and a few other assorted chores."

I do it all, and most nights Daddio yells from the comfort of our cozy comforter ..."come ooooon already, what the hell takes you so long...? Maybe you need a half hour head start"...

(I'm betting this post will get me a couple of offers of heavy feather down pillows...the better to place over your head my dear...tee-hee).... (I'll send you my address)

When I finally make it to the bedroom, one last thing needs to be done.

Choose some sleeping attire.

Not such an easy decision for a indecisive person.

I've got about six gowns hanging on the back of the door.

Long sleeves, short sleeves, no sleeves at all...

Knee length, ankle length... and one that is thigh high.

Flannel, silk, stinky old cotton.

Too many actually.

"Eneey, meeney, miney moe..."

"I lit a match and it went out..."

Finally I pluck one from the peg, slip it on, climb under the covers and "post up" next to Daddio.

By this time I'm wide awake and ready to chat.

Daddio sighs loudly and says things like "shut the hell up and go to sleep" or "tell yourself good night"....(stifle E-dit)

Suddenly.... things don't feel very right.

I am tooooooooo..something,

"Ohhhhhhhhhh my God" I whine "this nightgown is soooo weird,

some nights it's too hot,

some nights it's comfortable,

it's never the same and I never know which way it's going to feel,

I hate that,

I like things to be predictable,

this nightgown is the pits,

never the same,

some nights too hot some nights just right,

why do you think that is?

How can a nightgown change from night to night?

some nights cozy,

and other nights it's like a noose around my whole body..."

"And just what kind of night is this?" Daddio asked with genuine concern in his voice.

 Sooooo soft, so caring, so sweet.

For a second I was tempted to stick out my tongue and lick him, I'm sure he would have tasted of cotton candy.

But then I would probably have needed an appointment with Dr. Dent (the denture wizard).

Have a wonderful Thursday... xoxo

A love that's divine....

Today is my wedding anniversary, Daddio and I have been officially official for 28 years.

Even though we were a true official couple for eight years before we tied the knot October 29, 1982.

He fills my heart with laughter...

He asked me the other day to buy him a new shirt.

Any color was fine, as long as it was black.

Like usual he tells me he doesn't want it too big or too small, as usual he wants me to find the perfect black shirt.

"What size would you like" I ask.

"A smedium, I'd like the shirt in smedium" he answers.

(Seriously...he wants me to find him a smedium shirt.)

He's unbelievably supportive...

When I ask him if I'm certifiably crazy...

or a rip roarin bitch,

he answers "you have a lot of stress in your life".

There have been times when I've gained all kinds of poundage and my pants were being held together with a large rubber band under a long shirt and I'd inquire "do I look chubby..?"

"Nah" he says "you look healthy."

He's protective too...

When it's brought to his attention that kid A or B or C has been disrespectful, hurtful,  or a general pain in the ass....

he's been known to respond..

"You want me to rip their face off?

I've been wanting to take that kid out for years".

Ease my troubles, that's what he does.

There's a love that’s divine
And its his and its mine,
Like the sun.
And at the end of the day,
We give thanks and pray,
To The One, to The One.

Have I told you there's no one else above him?

He fills my heart with gladness, take away all my sadness,

Ease my troubles, that's what he does.

Have I told you lately that I love him?

Cause I really, really do...

"Not too high" I tell him as he tries to get to my garter...

Don't tell me where to go......

The first words out of Daddio's mouth this morning were "What day is it?"

When I told him Tuesday he said "Um....we forgot to get your work van".

That translates to Daddio being my chauffeur this morning...never a great thing without some advance planning.

You see I drive Daddio totally nuts...when he's driving (and if truth be told, most other times too ).

My unorganized self will ask him to pull back into the driveway one, two, maybe even three times before we can get on the road and on our way.

"Just watching you try to leave makes me tired"  crabby Daddio complained.

I had a lot to take to work today and that usually spells big trouble and room for errors.

He'd already filled the back of the car with four flats of tomato and pepper plants that I babysat over the long holiday weekend.

Daddio was aggravated with me when I handed him more than an arms load of bags, a box, a laundry basket and a small baggie filled with Corn Flakes complete with instructions not to crush the cereal.

When he was fully loaded like a pack mule he asked me to hand him the car keys.....

GULP!!! "The car keys???" I ask, a bit confused.

Quickly I do a mental inventory..keys? Did he give me the keys? Omg!!! He gave me the keys!!! Where are the keys? What did I do with the keys? Wait...I don't remember him handing me any keys.

"I don't have the keys" I say "You didn't give me any keys" I insist.

"They're in your hand" Daddio nods toward the keys dangling from the bottom of my palm.

On the road I make lots of small talk...which to a guy like Daddio sounds like nails on a chalkboard.

Or Charley Brown's teacher's wawawawawawawaw."

As soon as I notice his eyes beginning to cross and bug out I quiet down.

After we've pulled around back at my workplace to drop off the plants and we get back into the car I assume Daddio is turning around which will put him going the wrong way to head toward the other parking lot where my van is waiting.

"No!!! Don't go that way" I say "go this way" pointing to a small pothole filled gravel road.

"I'm trying to avoid the potholes...I know which way to go! Don't tell me where to go. You don't need to tell me where to go."

"Okay so maybe I don't need to tell you WHERE to go" I say " But I really really want to tell you WHERE TO GO!!!!

"You want to know where you can go?" I ask.

I begin searching my purse looking for the key to the work van.

My purse looks like an active volcano.

"I can't find my key" I say "I know I saw it somewhere."

"Probably on the kitchen counter" Daddio says, sighing.

As I'm digging a tunnel to the bottom of my purse things are falling out of the sides and onto the floor of the car.

"Man...it must suck to be you" Daddio says "you are very unorganized".

"Yeah it does suck to be me." I say with a growl.

"IT REALLY SUCKS TO BE ME" I say even louder.

Finally I locate the key and Daddio pulled up to the van, stopped and said "get the hell out".

"Good riddance" I said back as I closed the door.

He circled back around and rolled down the window....

"Come home in a better mood" he yelled.

(Which almost made me pee my pants)

I blew him a kiss and headed into work.

Forgive me Daddio for I have sinned....

Today after church Daddio offered to take me on my grocery rounds. This usually means a trip to the fruit market and to some kind of large grocery store. I had an awesome coupon for Meijers. One of those use the pharmacy, get twenty bucks off deal, so to Meijers it was.

The place was packed as usual. And I should know better that when poor Daddio starts to complain while still in the parking lot that maybe I should limit my trip to a loaf of bread and some milk.

I poo-pooed my gut warning and stupidly proceeded.

"The walk of the living dead" he growled, barely missing hitting a wide fannied woman wearing dingy white polyester pants and carrying six black garbage bags filled with plastic returnables.

He found a space about a mile from the entrance. "A walk will do us both good" he said in defense of his crappy choice.

I think he does this on purpose, he knows that if I were driving, we'd go round and round and round until one of the first parking spots opened up.

I don't care if it takes thirty minutes to find that perfect spot, and I usually don't realize that I've gone around so many times until I notice my gas gauge starting to go down.

"Mom, I'm getting dizzy" the kids used to say. "Please just pick a spot." 

Daddio went for a cart and he didn't even flinch when his mitts grabbed the dirty cart handle.

I shudder to think of all the E.coli he's probably just touched.

Oprah once did a show about E.coli and the places where it can be found.

Believe it or not public toilet seats don't have a ton of microscopic poop on them.

Bowling balls and shopping carts were found to be much worse...yuck

I've not stuck my fingers into a bowling ball since I saw that show.

Unfortunately, I can't say the same about shopping carts. Therefore I'm forced happy to use the sani-wipes the store provides.

Daddio gave me the evil eye as I searched (in vain) for the alcohol wipes.

"Forget it" he barked "I don't need those things."

"You're going to get sick" I warned.

"That's why I have such a superior immune system" Daddio brags "I'm not scared of germs."

Daddio doesn't really understand how aggressive he needs to be to successfully navigate a Meijer store on a Sunday after church.

Trying to be mannerly gets you nowhere besides stuck behind a lady with a coupon filled shoe box, six unruly snotty nosed children and two full carts.

Or an old gray buck carefully studying the entire 129 different varieties of Campbell's soup looking for Mrs. Grass chicken noodle.

Arrghhhh.....

So as Daddio, beginning to look brain dead waits behind the gang,  I scurry ahead grabbing items as I go.

Needing to get some tomato sauce for spaghetti I stop at the Hunts sauce and look for the big cans.

Of course, as usual they only have the eight ounce size and all of them seem to be dented.

When he catches up to me Daddio gets perturbed watching me feel out each can trying to find an uninjured few.

"What the hell does it matter?" he asks "just grab a couple."

I'll be sure to remind him of this little exchange a couple of days from now when he is suffering from stomach cramps.

We make it to the check out with me knowing that I certainly have forgotten something...you can't shop properly under that kind of pressure.

I choose a good lane and place our groceries onto the belt. Daddio was in front and didn't know what to do when the cashier passed him one of those grocery separating bars like a baton in a race.

"What?" he asks, holding it in the air "Do I run with this thing?"

When the cashier is almost done ringing our order I see that there is a great possibility that I may be able to use my $6.00 off $60.00 coupon as well.

I started getting giddy.

$26.00 off my grocery order!!!!

When the total hit $60.53 I almost screamed "BINGO", but for Daddio's sake I just stood mute and handed the cashier the coupons.

A little history here, over the years Daddio has gone to the grocery store once, maybe three times by himself. The couple of times that he did was because I was totally unable...I had a day old newborn at home or I was projectile vomiting and had a temperature of 103.

So only when he HAD to, did Daddio ever step foot into a grocery store.

I always gave him coupons and good directions about using them.

The following day I'd find them in a soggy ball at the bottom of the washing machine.

When I handed the blob to Daddio he'd just shrug and say "I forgot."

That was not a truthful statement...Daddio would rather hang by his earlobes than use a coupon. Using one is like asking for charity. Stealing money from the cashier's pocket. Trying to redeem a clam shell from the Great Depression...

He was beyond horrified when the cashier swiped my first coupon and the machine did nothing.

She swiped and swiped.

Without even looking I could feel Daddio pain.

"Buy any alcohol?" she asked.

If we had Daddio would have cracked it open by now and would have been in a much better frame of mind.

"Nope, no alcohol" I answered.

"Ohhhh...it doesn't count your bottle deposits" Miss Cashier finally figured out. "You need to buy something else."

Daddio's embarrassment and the line behind us was growing by the minute.

"Gum!!" I yelled "I'll take some gum."

Since the people behind us in their impatience had invaded our personal space, I couldn't reach the gum display and had to ask the cashier to choose a pack.

The first pack didn't cost enough.

"Okay, two then" I told the cashier who obviously is also a Libra and was having a hard time making a choice for me.

"ANY KIND" I yelled "ANYTHING!!!!"

The second pack didn't do it either.

"Charge me for two eight packs of Pepsi, I'll run back and get another." I suggested.

Finally, the machine took the coupons.

I sent Daddio and the other groceries to the car and I ran to the back to get my extra eight pack of pop.

It was a long walk which gave me plenty of time to plan my defense.

I was mighty tempted to ask the cashier for that baton and directions to the nearest exit.

Trumped......

There are two days I look very forward to each year, Mother's Day and my birthday.

I promise you it has nothing at all to do with gifts.

These special "all about me days" are the perfect excuse for me to sit on my can and do nothing (except what I want to do) all day long.

This year Mother's Day and Daddio's birthday decided to fall on the same day.

So I asked a panel of experts (a couple of other moms) who should trump who???

Who should get breakfast in bed and a back rub nice enough for its memory to get them through till next year?

Who should be crowned King or Queen for the day???

Any and all long suffering mothers reading this blog already know very well the answer.

Damititalltohell..........  :-(

Daddio's birthday trumped Mother's Day.

I'm not sure if he sees it that way though.

Daddio had a gig on Saturday night and while a mass consumption of doctored up Diet Pepsi(s) had him feeling no pain then, it appeared it was going to have the opposite effect on him this morning, and possibly linger the whole day long.

"I can't eat in bed" Daddio said as I tried to convince him to sit up and fluff the pillows behind him.

"I'm just not that kind of guy" he insisted when I attempted to sit a tray filled with breakfast on his lap.

Let me clarify that, he's not the kind of guy who eats from a tray in bed...but he does eat in bed, a lot.

I've rolled in mustard blobs and cracker crumbs.

Grape jelly and hunks of bread.

I even woke up in the middle of the night once to an intense smell of lettuce.

So strong was the smell that I was forced to get up and flip on the hall light.

You can only imagine my shock when I saw an entire soft taco (minus one bite) laying face up on my flat fitted sheet.

Taco meat, cheese, lettuce and sauce littered my bed.

Seems Bear had called to let us know he was stopping at Taco Bell on his way home. Daddio had sleepily answered the call and said "sure" when Bear offered to bring him something.

Like a good son Bear loaded up the taco with sauce just the way Daddio likes, he carried it upstairs, and planted it right in his sleeping father's waiting hand.

That he is alive to celebrate any more birthdays says something of my love for him.

Happy Birthday to my darling Daddio, I'm sorry that while you trumped me, the senior mothers trumped you and we had to spend your birthday on the road visiting and eating dinner in strange places.

Please know that I love you like no other and that you fill my life with so many wonderful things for which I am eternally grateful....including, but not limited to, fodder for this blog.

xoxoxox

Foaming at the mouth.....

I woke up this morning somewhat tense and in the foulest of foul moods. It took a couple of minutes for me to realize that I was stressing over a dream.

In the dream I was talking to a woman on the phone, it appeared from our conversation that she was from the bank. By the things she was saying I took it that she was going over each and every one of our check/debit card transactions.

One by one she listed where we'd shopped and what we spent.

As she continued, I figured she may be instead from a debt solutions place. She commented on our every purchase.

Line by line she read and reacted.

I didn't feel any rationalization was due when she started picking on large purchase(s) from Perfumania.

Or the one from Victoria's Secret.

I hated being treated like an errant child.

I was starting to get real pissed off until she said "Ummm, here is a $364.00 purchase made at the Rockwood Bar and Grill".

Huh?

"And how long ago was that" I snapped.

"Two days ago" she answered.

"How could someone spend $364.00 at the Rockwood Bar and Grill?" I continued.

I was starting to get a bit indignant, I just knew this was some kind of stupid bank mistake.

"It was spent on a gambling machine" she quiped "and staff tips".

My chest tightened, my face flushed.....

I was going to kill that freakin man...that idiot. The inconsiderate, selfish clod. How dare he!!! He was gonna pay for this one. And big.

Daddio gambling at the Rockwood Bar and Grill!!! Maybe he bought himself a couple of lap dances too while he was there.

(Pooooor pooooor poor Daddio. He doesn't gamble, nor use his debit card for anything other than an occasional gallon or two of gas or a set of guitar strings. There is no Rockwood Bar and Grill. And according to Daddio himself, who swears on all that is holy, that he's never ever paid anyone to squat on his lap and grind....at least he doesn't ever remember ever doing something as vile and rotten as that.)

I'll be spending today making things up to him...I growled and tried to bite him when he leaned in to give me a good morning smooch.

All I need is a lil sympathy......

The love of my life, my husband Daddio, is one hell of a cool guy. He’s a good provider, honest as the day is long, hard working and easy on the eyes too.

Daddio is fun and kind and always willing to lend a hand.

He has lots of other wonderful qualities, but there is one thing missing.

His sympathy gene.

Daddio has no time for whiners…or complainers.

When I came hobbling down the stairs a couple of days ago suffering from a bad case of Bleacher Back (4 high school events in one week) I was decending carefully and taking the stairs slowly, when I got to the bottom and rounded the corner I was hoping to run into some sympathy.

Daddio sat, rocking in his lazy boy, “what the hell’s the matter with you?” he asked.

Daddio hates when we go into graphic and detail rich descriptions of our pain.

So before I started into a lengthy explanation describing how my back felt like it had a red hot poker, with a jagged edge stabbing deep into my lower back and snaking its way down toward my rear…I just answered “I musta pulled something in my back.”

Dr. Daddio gave me his usual prescription….do some stretches, and have some water.

Um, some water, okay…. I’m sure that will do me wonders.

Water is the cure for all that ails us. According to our personal live-in physician, water is all that and more.

Last week Bear had some kind of virus, he tends to spike a very high temp when he’s sick. He called me at work to get some medicine directions and a little phone love from his momma.

“Ma, I feel like crap. My head’s about to explode and my eyes feel like someone is gouging them out with an ice pick. My throat is bloody red, stinging and it’s so scratchy I feel like I swallowed some sandpaper. My body aches like I was beaten with a metal bat.”

“And I feel so hot like I’m about to start on fire, my temperature, I’m almost positive, is at least 104.” (He was exaggerating just a bit with that last piece of information).

‘Oh my God, let me talk to your dad” I said to my sick baby.

“He’s okay” Daddio said “he just needs to drink more water.”

That phone call was enough to send me into a huge headache. I swear it pounded like I was getting hit in the head by a sledge hammer. Not just an ordinary sledge hammer, one with an extra knob on it that hit the side of my temple as the big side came down on the top of my head, and each time the hammer struck it made my teeth on top hurt, like there was an electric wire woven between the teeth which gave a shock like jolt about every 6 seconds or so.

I talked myself through the pain (and off the ledge) and had a large cup of ice water.

Daddio would have been proud.

Wonder if that would work for my aching feet? My new shoes aren’t breaking in to easily. I’ve got a blister (the size of a fifty cent piece) that hurts so bad it feels like its been squeezed in a steel vice. The skin is torn and it burns like someone took a Brillo pad and scratched it raw.

Since it feels like I’m getting stung by a jelly fish every time I step down, I’ve been walking funny and that has put a strain on my calf muscle. That calf muscle feels so tight it’s like I’ve had it in a too small compression sock for a week straight. The sensation of the veins being squished and squeezed by the swollen muscles is almost more than I can take.

When I try to step lightly and sideways to accommodate my sore leg I put an odd strain on my hip. Every time I take a few steps my hip joint makes a clicking sound. I’m sure the cartilage is gone and the bone is rubbing against bone.

When I fall into the front door tonight after work the good doctor will probably take one look at me and tell me I’m lacking some…you guessed it….H2O.

Man,…no one ever said being an over descriptive hypochondriac living with a holistic healer was going to be easy.

Thank you for listening.....

This day I married my friend......

Yep....twenty seven years ago I did in fact marry my best friend, the one I live for, laugh with, dream with, love.

That sentiment was brand spankin new and that is what our invitations said....

We had hokey matches that say A Love Match....(the kids crack up every time they stumble upon a pack).

Daddio and I dated for 8 (yes, I did type eight) long years before I told him he needed to shit or get off the pot. I've written before...he decided to take the shit or fall in a pile or whatever.

It appears that he made a good decision.

My eyes popped open at 3:15am. I had to pee and was suffering greatly from cramps. Once I was up I didn't think I would be able to go back to sleep so I started playing on the computer. This site was having issues and I was getting bored. I heard a creaking door around 4:15; it was Daddio looking for me. I decided to jump back into bed and he rubbed my back.

I lay on his chest and listened to his heart beat. Before long I was sawing logs.

When the alarm sounded at 5 it was a bit difficult to get up...now that I could sleep, I couldn't.

Daddio was up and sipping his coffee when I got out of the shower.

He allowed me to maul him a moment while he sat in his lazy boy.

"Happy anniversary" I said.

"The same to you" Daddio answered.

"Thanks for marrying me" I teased.

"Thanks for marrying me" Daddio replied.

"Hey, no presents, okay?" Daddio said.

"Not even cards?" I asked.

"Nah" he answered.

Years ago this would have made me sad...today I realize that I already got my present this morning....laying next to a warm man who took away my bad cramps and lulled me back to sleep with a lullaby, a heart that I like to think beats for me.

Happy Anniversary Daddio!! xoxoxoxox

I wanna hold your hand.....

Tomorrow is the day they take the little spot of the BIG C off of Daddio’s darling handsome face. I know he's very worried, he hasn’t said so much, but I can tell by how he is acting that he is stressed.


I have been bugging him for over 20 years to let me go with him when he exercises. He either rides his bike or he takes looooooooong walks (like over 6 miles). And he walks really fast. Since I don't like to sweat and I am rather wimpy when it comes to most things physical he usually says to my pleas to join him "hell no, you’ll never be able to keep up, go play on your computer or call your sister", but the last three nights he's invited me to go.

Last night he almost left without me; I was taking too long to get ready. I had to dig out my shoes, pee, find some gloves and my earmuffs (never mind that it was almost 60 degrees, a girl has got to be prepared), put on a hoody, then a coat, and then I peed again. I started getting warm after going pee for the third time and had to ask him to wait, just one more sec for me to take off the hoody.

“Too many layers” I explained when he rolled his eyes.

I hesitated before walking out the door; Daddio noticed and asked “What?”

“I may have to go pee one more time” I answered.

I knew he was trying to prove a point (that I can't keep up) when he started off toward a path that I know to be long and treacherous…I didn’t say a word. Not even one. I just walked.

He is getting used to me being next to him. We don’t talk much while we walk, Daddio because he just doesn’t talk much, and me because I know I need to stockpile my air since I have no clue how far he is going to make me walk.

Before long I’m sniffling, and I’m unprepared, I rifle through my coat pocket and come up empty handed…no tissues, no gum wrapper, nothing, not even a tiny ball of lint.

Daddio notices me sniffling and when I say “Oh man, I may have to shoot off one of those snot rockets the kids are always talking about”.

He reached in his pocket and fished out a tissue, “I figured you’d need one, either to wipe your nose, or your butt, in case you had to pee again”.

I was impressed that he thought of me.

He took us on a very dark path, where there are no street lights or even any houses.

He stopped abruptly and whispered “can you see all those deer?”

The guy must have eyes like a cat, because I couldn’t see a thing in the pitch black.

I was scared and I reached for Daddio’s hand. He let me grab it and hold it for a long time. He usually isn’t one for public displays of affection, but it was pitch black and nobody was there to see him do it.

I knew Daddio was worried too when he said things like “I hope there’s not a big buck in that herd” and “Next time we need to bring a flash light so we can see what’s coming at us”.

When we finally got to a path with some light, both our cell phones start ringing. We each had a son calling. Of course the calls came with some drama. Not too much, but enough for us both to be kind of irritated.

“Next time we leave the phones home” Daddio said with a laugh.

Next time? (WOW, yes next time).

We walked on and when we got near to our house Daddio said “I think you may soon be ready for the big one” meaning one of his big long over 6 miles walk.

Lying in bed last night I got to thinking about our walk.

Our lives are a lot like that journey.

With 100% percent certainty I can say that there are going to be many more times that I keep him waiting. And that I will be unprepared and struggle to keep up with him. (I will always be grateful that he anticipates my needs; today I would have been mortified at having to launch a snot rocket in front of him).

I will say that for sure the kids are going to cause a fair amount of drama and stress in our lives, but probably not so awful that we can’t later laugh about it,

And as sure as the sun is to shine I know that when it’s dark and scary in our little world there will be a strong, loving, comforting hand always within each other’s reach.

Say a little prayer for Daddio today.

(A little PDA, notice the hands)