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Something to Believe In

Well, I see him on the TV
Preaching ’bout the promised lands
He tells me, “Believe in Jesus”
Steals the money from my hands
Some say he was a good man
Lord, I think he sinned

22 years of mental tears cries a suicidal Vietnam vet
Who fought a losing war on a foreign shore
To find his country didn’t want him back
Their bullets took his best friends in Saigon
Our lawyers took his wife, his kids, no regrets
In a time I don’t remember
In a war he can’t forget
He cried, “Forgive me for what I’ve done there
‘Cause I never meant the things I did”

And give me something to believe in
If there’s a Lord above
And give me something to believe in
Oh, Lord, arise”

~Poison

I’m really not looking for a political argument, but my gosh, am I fed up with… Is our latest escapade supposed to be referred to as “military action”? Whatever. It’s another war, our congress never voted for. We’ve been fighting, somewhere in the Middle East, since before my adult life even began! I’m wise enough to recognize there are things I surely don’t understand. I have to assume some kind of intelligence has been gathered, which has lead my country’s leaders to send our young men and women back into a hell I can’t begin to imagine. What I do know about, is the scars undoubtedly being caused. They’re witnessing, and also participating in, horrific realities of combat. Some leave with catastrophic wounds. Some only recognize they’re injured, after they’re back here. There’ll be physical trauma, but also mental and emotional pain, that doesn’t ever fully heal. And, for some, they’ll only make it back home inside a box draped in the American flag. Because this has been pretty much the “norm”, my entire adult life, I have to wonder if it’s just always been this way? Does every generation feel like the world’s “on fire”? Does everyone ponder over whether “the end is nigh”? The overarching question I’ve got, though, is why? What are we really trying to do? What are the suits, behind their comfortable desks, making these calls that affect families that are somehow never theirs, truly aiming to accomplish?

I’ve gotta end this rant, because I don’t have time to fully hash out my frustration with those things, tonight.

School’s officially back in session. August, December, and May are the most busy times of the year, for us. Mikayla starts back to school, next week, and B doesn’t go back until September. We’re going down to Knoxville, this coming weekend. Mikayla’s moving into a new apartment. We’re going to help her get all moved in, and set up there.

This past weekend, I worked on a little project. I’ve had a plain cube shelf, in our living room, for awhile now. I’ve considered replacing it, with a nicer one, but ultimately decided to give an idea I’d gotten a try. I spent a day and a half measuring, sawing, nailing, gluing, and painting. First, I added some trim, around the top of the shelf. I also added faux stained oak wood look, at the top.

Then, I painted 1.5 inch blocks, and attached them to the bottom. After that, I added more trim that I’d also painted. I used 1.5 inch trim, for the sides, but on the front, I shorted it to just 1 inch. It created a slight arch, this way.

Before (also peep Gary peering out from behind 😂)

I was pretty proud of myself! I did it completely on my own, with only my own brain to process my ideas and to create something that worked. It’s not perfect, but it turned out looking much better than before!

I better go grab my husband, and hop in the shower, before he passes out. Poor guy’s been working so much, lately. It’s SO hot, too. I always get on him, to make sure he’s staying hydrated. Especially after last year, when he was found unconscious after suffering heat stroke, out on one of the job sites! I don’t think my heart can take another phone call like that one.

I should actually have a little more time to sit down and write, tomorrow morning. Just wanted to stop in, and say all’s well. Busy, is all! Good, though. Real good.

I also shared a couple of snack/treats I made, for school and Adam’s work lunches, if anyone’s interested.

https://youtu.be/UOjpXJ50aDI?is=QDmCywyrsyDgMdLi

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Something in Your Mouth

Crafty little lip tricks, tattoos on her left hip
She’s bending as you’re spending, there’s no end to it, so baby come on!

You’re so much cooler when you never pull it out
‘Cause you look so much cuter with something in your mouth

~Nickelback

A few days ago, my husband asked me what’s on my mind. He’d noticed I was more quiet than usual, and became suspicious. I assured him, I’ve done nothing wrong, and wasn’t keeping anything from him. I explained, something just felt off. I couldn’t determine why I felt that way, though. I told him, “I don’t know. I guess I’ve detected a disturbance in the force, is all.” That description made him laugh. I couldn’t put my finger on it. I checked to see if my period was coming. Sometimes my hormones get screwy, right before it, but nope. When Adam pulled me into his arms, kissed me, and promised I had nothing to worry about. We were good. That gave me an instant relief, and was when it occurred to me my upset was likely simply a result of missing my husband. He’s been working, a LOT, the past few months. I added up his hours, for the week prior to this one. Not even including his drive time, he’d worked nearly 70 hours in just that week alone. It leaves us little time together, and he’s functioning on like four hours of sleep, everyday. I absolutely appreciate all he has, is, and would always do for us. He provides this beautiful life for his family, and affords me privileges not available to just everyone. He does what he does, to make sure we’re taken good care of. Knowing all of this, I try hard to never nag him about his work/life balance. To him, his work is a willing sacrifice he makes so that I don’t have to worry, and can remain comfortable and secure. Still, I can’t help but miss him. He’ll come home from a 15 hour workday, and never fails to make time for me. Even before he changes his clothes, or sits down, he’s in the kitchen with a kiss, asking me to tell him about my day. He’s happy to spend time with the kids, too. I’m one damn lucky woman.

That night, as we settled into bed, I rubbed my fingers along his rough hands. I traced up his forearms, and over the bulges his muscles create, on my fingers path up to his neck. Adam reciprocated, doing the same dance across my body, using his own hands. Before long, we were both naked. He was gentle, and I understood his efforts to reassure me of his love, as we made love.

The following evening (last night), as we stood together in the shower, he continued to “pour into me”. He did his best to remain alert and present in the moment, with me, in spite of the exhaustion I was sure he dealt with. As we were about to cut off the water and get out, he grabbed hold of me, and gave me a long kiss. I pushed him up against the shower wall, and dropped to my knees. I was eager to pleasure my husband, with my mouth. His body responded, promptly. He ran his hand through my hair, brushing it from my face, and then gripping hold of it at the base of my neck. His other hand reached to fondle my breasts. Soon, my tastebuds alerted me of his impending eruption. I kept going, until finally he pulled back on the ponytail his hand held my hair into, gently forcing my mouth to let go of him. He knows my limitations. I’m neither a swallower, nor a spitter. I didn’t gag once. Which is an accomplishment if I’m being honest, but if there’s one thing I just cannot do, it’s let him finish inside my mouth. I tried, once. Throwing up on my husband’s dick isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever done. So, that was the last time we did that.

It had been months, since I’d given my man a blowjob. I felt bad about it, but dammit I’ve got needs too. I recognize my nympho tendencies, around him, but I can’t help myself. I always want him to fuck me. Sometimes, I do also need the sweet lovemaking. He’s just soooo good at giving my body that euphoric ecstasy it craves, from him. Only from him. I’d never been like that, before. He brings out these animalistic desires, within me. He is so danged good at being a man.

I’m horny, again. I hope he doesn’t get home late, tonight.

American Nights

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Pray the morning don’t come
These colors don’t run
Stay up and stay young

American nights

~Morgan Wallen

Yesterday was so much fun! Mikayla always “crashes”, when she comes back home. She didn’t get up, until after noon. She’s been working so hard, and I’m extremely proud of her. I’m proud of all my girls! Brooklyn decided to pursue her associates degree, and has been taking classes during the days, while also working a full time job, overnights. She’s done an impressive job, already saving up a good amount of money for herself, too. I still sometimes just marvel at how much all my girls have grown, but especially my Brooklyn. Brooklyn was born, more than two months premature. She was diagnosed with autism and sensory processing disorder, right after her third birthday. She didn’t start speaking, until nearly a year later. She can be very literal and blunt, in her thinking and her words. It isn’t always easy for her to recognize the subtle cues in how others say things, their facial expressions, things like that. She sometimes misunderstands, after mistaking someone’s intentional sarcasm for genuine emotion. On the other hand, she’s also super funny! She makes me laugh, a lot. We tease that she’s got the same personality as her cat. Whenever a stranger comes around, she disappears. Once she gets comfortable, though, she will open up. She’s a great judge of character, too. She seems to quickly recognize and discern, who can and cannot be trusted. She, herself, is sincere to the point of often being “brutally honest”. My sister’s always said, if she wants to feel good about herself, she’ll ask Mikayla’s opinions. If she wants the truth, she’ll ask Brooklyn. I admire the way Brooklyn never compromises her true feelings or beliefs, for anything or anyone else. She had to learn how to be a little bit more delicate, when sharing her opinions with others, but she’ll always tell you the truth if you ask her for it. During her Senior year of high school, and while I was working outside the home and our family were all going through the toughest season of our lives, she grew into this beautiful and brave young woman. I almost missed the subtle changes in her, for awhile. As that year progressed, it occurred to me just how strong and helpful she’d been. She took on almost all of the daily household chores. She became Mj’s second mama, and really paid close attention to Mj’s struggling. She spent hours listening and talking, with her. She did her best to make life fun, for all of us. In those firsts, like the first holidays without some of the people we wouldn’t celebrate with, she was goofy and wanted to cheer up our heavy hearts. She kept up her grades, in school. Never had missing or incomplete work. As much as I truly appreciate all she did for everyone, including me, I also felt tremendous guilt. This never should have been her burden to carry. Her last year to be a “kid”, should have been filled with fun and friends. Not dirty dishes, laundry, making sure her little sister brushed her teeth before school, and looking after her mama. I should’ve been much more present with her, and aware. I look back, and see just how selfish I’d been. Running from the turmoil, trying to avoid having to look at the damage done to our family. To my babies. When she had to have her knee surgery, I’d already begun to recognize these things I hadn’t been, but so wanted to do again, with and for my babies. Her health challenge was just the final push, that convinced me what and where I needed to do and be. I was not going to let her go through that, without being right beside her. I can’t ever “make up’ for the time I missed, with my girls, but I did do my darndest to be fully present, from then on. I’m still determined to be a better mama. To give them what they need and deserve. Now, Brooklyn is no longer a child, and is carving her own path in life. Although I do miss the hell out of her, I’m also hella proud to of her. I’m hella proud of all of them! Mikayla’s wicked smart. Like, well beyond my own capabilities. She’s doing these absolutely incredible things. Achieving her goals and dreams, like the badass she is. She’s an actual freaking rocket scientist, and she’s proving to be a damn good one at that. Brooklyn’s continuing to challenge herself, leaving her comfort zone so that she can learn and grow, and build her very own beautiful life. Mj’s grown more than hips and boobs, too. She’s maturing, quickly. I find myself having deep conversations with her. Real, grown up type of talks, about big topics. She’s doing color guard, taking after her big sister, Mikayla. She’s got a real good group of friends. She’s become awfully “boy crazy” recently, as well, which her daddy claims is making his beard turn gray. Haha! Mj is a teenage girl. A young lady, who’s figuring out what and who she wants to be. My goal is to support and encourage my girls. To guide them, as best I can, and to be a mama who they’ll always want to include, as they navigate along their own journeys.

We celebrated the Fourth of July, swimming, talking, giggling, baking, eating, and shooting fireworks. It only rained briefly, shortly after we got started with our fireworks. We sat and waited for the rain to pass, and then were able to get right back to it. Adam and the girls had a blast. I had the best Fourth of July, in years. Maybe, the best one ever, actually. I loved seeing my carefree, smiling family. I wasn’t plagued by the same sadness, that had clung to me, for the past two July Fourths. I feel “lighter”. I’m more free than I’ve felt, in a long time. I can acknowledge the aches and pains, that might bubble up from time to time, without being consumed by them. My shine is no longer dimmed. My sparkle’s back. I’ve been able to allow my present joy to fill in the spaces, where I’d held onto past hurts. Change doesn’t require that nothing stays the same. It often happens without even noticing, until more time passes. Hours become days. Days become weeks. Weeks become years. Before you know it, you’ve gotten a little bit older. A little bit wiser. A little bit stronger. It seems that I too, have grown.

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4th of July

And I’m looking at you
With the world in the rear view

You were pretty as can be, sitting in the front seat
Looking at me, telling me you love me
And you’re happy to be with me on the 4th of July

~Shooter Jennings

We were supposed to be going out on a pontoon boat, with some friends, yesterday. Unfortunately, the weather decided not to cooperate with those plans. It stormed, alllll afternoon, into the evening. Since that also meant Adam couldn’t grill our supper, he fried us some bacon. We ate BLT’s, instead. After supper, we sat around and played games. Although not the way we intended our day to be spent, we had a lot of fun, anyhow.

Today, we’re hoping to be able to spend time, outside, weather permitting. This will be our first time spending the Fourth, at home, since we moved to this house! We’ve got lots of fireworks, this year, and our neighborhood also has a big party. I’m excited to do some swimming, play some cornhole, eat some yummy bbq, and watch the fireworks.

HAPPY 250th BIRTHDAY, America!

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No More Lies

So look straight into eyes Tell me the truth and not lies So now I understand…

~Brabo Gator

If the severity of a spanking matched my level of regret and remorse, this one would’ve left me sitting uncomfortably for at least a week!

After Adam said those dreaded words, you’re going to get a spanking, all I could do was hang my head. He shut off the shower water, stepped out, and then wrapped a towel around me, like he always does. He wrapped a towel around his own waist, and reached out for me. Knowing what was coming, I froze. I admitted, I knew I deserved it, but also told him I was scared. And, I was!

In my mind, I’d committed the worst crime imaginable. I’d broken the number one rule, between us. We don’t lie to each other. I envisioned a spanking more serious than any he’d ever given, before. What would that even be like? What if it makes me cry? Would he stay and hold me, after, like he always had? In those brief moments, all these thoughts played over, in my head.

The next thing I knew, he had me over his knees. My left arm was out in front of me, pinned between our bodies, but my right arm was still free. Instinctively, I reached back, to cover my exposed behind. Adam took my right hand in his left one, and held it against my back, removing my ability to continue making feeble attempts at preventing what was coming. As much as my body wanted to, I fought the urge to kick my legs, to try launching myself from his grip. Even though I’ve done tried all these things, before, and knew I was no match for his strong arms, deep down I also knew I needed to submit. After all, I damn well knew I’d done wrong, and this predicament was entirely my own doing. As his right arm raised, and I anticipated the first smack across my now perfectly positioned butt, I gripped Adam’s leg with my left hand, and the hand he was holding my other in. I realized my nails were beginning to dig into his skin, and found myself shouting out, I don’t want to scratch you! I sensed his raised hand relax, for a second, as he gently assured me that it was okay if I scratched him. He could handle it. I did my best, not to let my long nails scrape across him. I did end up managing to keep from giving him any accidental scratches or cuts from them, too.

I won’t pretend the whole thing was a pleasant experience, but ultimately, I had no issues sleeping or sitting comfortably, after. That spanking could’ve been SO much worse, and I’d have fully accepted I’d earned it. Instead, he chose to let me off pretty darned easy, considering what I’d done. He held me in his arms, kissed me, and begged me to trust him, when he tells me that he’ll love me no matter what. He’s not going anywhere, and that there’s nothing we can’t get through, together.

Later, as I reflected, it dawned on me that it actually has been the spankings I’ve most felt I deserved, that have been much less severe than I’d anticipated. On the other hand, the most severe ones have been for things I had vehemently argued I didn’t believe were warranted. Things I considered minimal, minor, petty, and sometimes even got angry at him for determining punishment was necessary in the first place. That’s when it clicked, for me. I nearly said out loud my collective thoughts “ohhhh”, with this realization! If I’m being bitchy, arguing with him over whether I believe I’ve done wrong, that’s a great big red flag. It signals, I’m not sorry, and I’ll do it again. It displays my lack of respect for him, or his boundaries. It tells him I’m not sorry. This is almost certainly, precisely the reason he’s chosen to make sure I’d come to regret whatever it was I’d done. Maybe, it’s not about the severity of my wrongs, but about the sincerity in my remorse. Of course, I’m aware that if I lie to him again, my apologies probably ain’t sparing me. At that point, I’d have already proven I wasn’t sorry enough not to do that again. But, for the most rare instances of lines crossed, he just wants to know that I’m taking it as seriously as he does. That I mean it, when I tell him, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.

Note to future self…. Lose the attitude. Drop the arguments. Tell him you’re sorry, and try to mean it. You’ll most likely avoid getting your ego checked, with a bruised behind.

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I Was Lying

I wish I could reconcile, cause deep inside I’m dying So I put on a smile, and I pretend I’m fine
I’m just another screw up, baby don’t waste your time I told you we’d be different, but we knew I was lying

~Burden

Ok, so not exactly as dramatic as these song lyrics, but I told Adam a lie.

I’m very good at circling truth, sometimes. Adam calls this, sidestepping. Sort of leading him to the conclusion I’m intending, but without explicitly ever speaking an untruth. One thing I just never did, was tell my husband a lie. I did that, last week. For the first time, in literally more than a decade, my lips spoke a blatant falsehood, to him. When the subject was first mentioned, I didn’t lie. I sidestepped, no doubt, but I allowed him to conclude a lie, based on my statement of facts.

To further explain, we have to go back in time, to around two weeks ago. We were about to make our trip to Knoxville. I was busy, the day we were leaving. I’d run errands, got us all packed up, and made a couple tedious phone calls that needed to be taken care of. There was one more thing, Adam expected me to have gotten done, that day, but I’d completely forgotten about it. Fast forward, to Monday. Laying in bed, Monday night, I suddenly remembered what it was I’d forgotten to do, on Friday. It was late. I told myself I’d do it first thing, the next morning. Unfortunately, Tuesday came and went. I had not, in fact, remembered to do so. It wasn’t until that Wednesday morning, I’d finally taken care of it. I hadn’t mentioned any of this, to Adam. If I’m honest, I don’t think I planned to. Except, the very next evening, he specifically asked me if I’d gotten that done. What I said to him was, that I’d actually forgotten, on Friday. I told him, I remembered, on Monday. As predicted, my response was satisfactory…until a few more days passed. It’d come up, once again. Only, he was asking me to clarify that I’d handled it on Monday. I tried to dance around the truth, and asked him, Don’t you remember, we talked about this the other day? I told you I’d forgot on Friday, but remembered it on Monday. Had he drawn the same conclusion he had previously, I’d be guilty of simply sidestepping the truth, again. That’s not what happened, though. He came out, and asked me to verify for him that I’d gotten it done, on Monday. In that split second, I made the choice to lie. I told him, YES. I lied to myself, too. I wanted to believe it was just a harmless fib. I nearly fooled my own conscience, but not for long. The harder I tried to push down the guilt that bubbled up, the sicker I began to feel. I simply could not ignore it.

I spent more than a day, wrestling with my own guilty conscience. My stomach was in knots. I knew what I was going to have to do, as much as I hated to have to admit to Adam the stupid lie I’d told him, and for a stupid ass reason. I felt, at the time, that confessing my absentmindedness had gone on for more than just one business day, would seem much more irresponsible. Instead, what I wound up doing was making multiple irresponsible decisions, in my effort to conceal an insignificant mistake.

I felt so ashamed. I couldn’t hide the truth from Adam for one more day. I vowed to come clean, about all of it, that evening. Which was just last night.

I’d been more quiet than usual, while we showered. Adam was noticing this. We’d finished showering, and I began to wring out my hair. He reached for the faucet, and asked me if I was all done. The tiny pause before I replied with a weak, yes, removed all remaining doubt in his mind. Something was up. He looked at me, and asked if I was sure. I looked down. That’s when he asked me what it was I needed to tell him. I fought the urge to lie, again, and insist there was nothing wrong. I was downright disgusted, with myself. The shame and embarrassment made me want to hide. I wasn’t going to allow myself to evade accountability, though.

I laid it all out. Like one very long, run on sentence, the truth poured out of me. I watched his face, as my words landed in his ears, expecting to see the same disgust I had over what I’d done reflected back to me in his eyes. His expression was soft, though. He looked down at me, listening to every single word I was saying. I made no excuses, for myself. I made no efforts to lay any part of the blame on him. He’d done absolutely nothing wrong. When I’d finished my tearful confession, I looked back into his eyes, and told him how sorry I was. I meant it, too. I can’t remember feeling more sorry.

His hands clasped my face, as he leaned down and kissed my forehead. The first words out of his mouth were, I love you. He insisted, I have to stop thinking I have to be perfect. There’s nothing I can say or do, to push him away. He reminded me of how much we’ve been through, and that he’s not going anywhere. He told me he appreciated that I’d come clean, and that I apologized. He said he probably never would’ve found out, and although it did hurt that I’d lied to him, he was glad my lie had made me uncomfortable enough to admit it. He acknowledged that he understood that wasn’t easy to do, told me thank you, and then informed me I was getting a spanking.

To be continued…

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Sin So Sweet

Hang up your wings, crawl into me
Cover me up under your sheets
Roll back your eyes, sink in your teeth
Show me that side that nobody sees
I’m addicted to you, you’re addicted to me
I’ve never tasted sin so sweet
I’m using you, you’re using me
I’ve never tasted sin so sweet

~Warren Zeiders

On a very different note from the one I last left off on, is something else that’s been on my mind. I can think of a few instances, over the last 6 months or so, when the “old Adam” absolutely would’ve lit the “old me’s” butt on fire. There’s no question that, when he found out I’d continued to keep things from him, I would never have avoided some serious accountability. Especially for repeating my habit of finding excuses to procrastinate, about coming to him, with things I know damn well I shouldn’t try to hide from him. A month or two ago, I confessed more than one thing I’d been keeping secret. One of those things, for nearly two months. Adam never raises his voice, or says hateful things to me, when I go to him. Even on the occasions when I haven’t approached him, and he’s discovered something I’d screwed up, he’s never been mean, no matter how upset he was. However, it is rather unusual for there to be no repercussions.

I’m not running around attempting to find ways to fuck around, or to find out. I hate to disappoint my husband, and never intentionally hurt him. My mistakes are not major ones. It’s small things, like not doing something I needed to. Or, doing something that I one thousand percent know isn’t a good idea. I’m a great big procrastinator. I get distracted, easily. I often “bite off a whole lot more than I can actually chew.” While those things can and have been the circumstances that’ve lead to a trip across Adam’s knees, they’re relatively minor “infractions”. One thing that’s always been unacceptable, is lying to him. That includes not telling him things that he has every right to know. It’s just lying by omission. Unfortunately, that’s something I’m way too good at doing. I am like a professional, when it comes to avoiding the truth, without telling a lie.

In spite of all of my “transgressions”, Adam has chosen leniency. I asked him why, recently. He told me, “Because I want you to always feel like you can come to me.” He further explained his concern over what it is that he needs to do better, so that I won’t be afraid to go to him, about anything. It’s super important to him, that he does a good job of making sure I know how much he loves me. That I can trust him, and that he always makes me feel safe. He prioritizes my own health, wealth, and happiness, well before his own. I know these things, yet I still struggle with fears that his patience and love just won’t be enough to cover me, when I screw up. So, I make weak excuses to put off bringing things up. I tell myself, he’s tired. Maybe tomorrow. Then, tomorrow brings another reason to decide it’s not the day to risk outing myself. Before I know it, weeks will go by, and I still haven’t come clean. Tension builds, because I find myself distancing from him. Not on purpose, or even consciously. It’s as if even the smallest issue is like a weed in our garden, and each missed opportunity to be honest and pluck it out, allows it to grow and multiply. Before I know it, they’ve spread into every corner. I get overwhelmed, and either lash out or shut down. I recognize how unhealthy and damaging this all can be, and I really do want to stop letting weeds into our garden.

If I’m completely honest with myself, I’m not entirely certain that I’m not manipulating my own husband. I don’t mean that I think I’m doing it in a malicious way. On some level, though, I think maybe I deploy certain specific tactics, when I’m looking to escape accountability. Scratch that. I absolutely do, do those things. There’s really no maybe about it. I look for the most prime opportunity, and I carefully choose the way I explain myself, working to effectively minimize my responsibility over my actions. I’m pretty sure that’s a precise example of manipulation.

More than virtually anything else, I truly want to be good. A good person. A good example. A good wife, mama, daughter, sister, friend. I’ve done plenty of things I’m not proud of, and I’m sure there’ll be more. I never take pleasure in someone else’s pain, and unequivocally don’t ever seek to be the cause of it. I genuinely don’t even hope for harm or hurt to come to the man who raped me. Let alone others, who’ve done things I have, am, or will have to heal from. I pray for their healing. For their souls. That they come to repentance for their sins, and that they’re made new. I really mean that.

I’m far from perfect. Blatantly flawed. I reek of sin. We don’t get any do-overs, in this life. We can’t unmake our mistakes. All we can do, is our best to do better. Apologies help, but they’re also just words. What matters is action. Taking steps forward. Striving to be a better person than I was, yesterday, and to become even better through everyday that follows.

Writing about all of this has made me realize something I hadn’t, until just now. If I were truly worried that my husband wouldn’t still love me, because of something I’ve said or done, and that was my reason for attempting to hide from him…how could I be so confident in my ability to manipulate his love for me, just to get out of a measly spanking? Clearly, I’ve been assured that his love for me far outweighs any of the things I might do to disregard rules and boundaries. I honestly hadn’t thought of that, before. I’m not sure how I managed it, but I’ve snagged myself a husband who’d hang the moon for me. And, we’ve got a rock solid foundation. One that, deep down, I know that I’m positive couldn’t crumble under the weight of all my past, present, or future wrongs. We get a heck of a lot more right, than we do wrong. I can’t begin to imagine a life without my husband. The perfect marriage is just two imperfect people, who refuse to give up on each other. So, right there’s one thing we’ve both been doing, perfectly.

Blame it on The South

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~Dusty Leigh & Brandon Hartt (Feat. FJ Outlaw)

I spent the entire day down in our basement, cleaning, reorganizing, and rearranging things. I hung new curtains. I took one of my cube shelves, and I added wood grain contact paper to the top. I’m really proud of how that turned out!

Tomorrow, I’m taking Mj out for coffee. We’re going to do a little shopping, too. Then, on Friday, we’re planning to take that hike we’ve been wanting to. Last Sunday, it was humid, hot, and crazy windy. That night, storms blew through. We wound up with a tornado warning. The first of this year, for us.

We didn’t really end up seeing much action, though. Just wind.

We woke up, Monday morning, to temps down into the thirties! It was cold, Monday and Tuesday. Today, it warmed back up into the 60’s. Tomorrow, we get back to high 70’s-mid 80’s, for the foreseeable future.

I’m such a night owl, these days. Adam asks me to come to bed by 11pm, weeknights. I usually do, too. Last night, though, it was after midnight before I climbed next to him in bed. He pulled me into his arms, and told me if I’d come to bed earlier, I’d have gotten laid. I asked, what if I wanted to get laid, now? He insisted, he needed to sleep more than he needed sex, at that point. I put on my best pouty face, looked up at him and said, more than you need me?? Adam looked back at me, grinned, and told me to take off my pants. Just as my “rollercoaster” was about to reach the top, the ride was over. I told Adam, I deservvve thisss… and I did, in fact, deserve it. Therefore, I’ll be making absolutely certain my butt’s in bed earlier, tonight.

So, on that note, it’s time for me to go upstairs, get naked, and shower with my husband.

Weeping Willow

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That girl can take a gray sky and paint it blue
She can put the smooth in the 90 proof
She can hang the moon in a sundress
Even put a sinner on a front pew
She can make shining diamond
Out of West Virginia coal
She can put a smile on a weeping willow

~Warren Zeiders

She didn’t even know I took this pic, lol

I drove past my old neighborhood, the other day. The trees, just before its entrance, look so pretty.

It’s definitely starting to look and feel a lot like Spring, here. Everything’s growing, blooming, blossoming. The grass, the trees, and my babies. Mj’s having a much better year, this year, than last. She’s growing up so fast, I can hardly even keep up with the changes. She can be a broody young teenager, moods swinging so quick they’ll gimmie whiplash, some days. Most days, though, she’s still my sweet little girl. Just a little bit less little. We got her a ridiculously expensive gaming laptop, for Christmas. She loves playing online games with her friends, but also she’ll often get her sisters on FaceTime, and they’ll all play Sims or something. I love it that they do that. It makes me happy, they’re all still so close.

Last Saturday, Mj had her last flags competition for this season. I did her makeup, and took her there. Awhile later, Adam got a phone call from Mikayla. She was in tears, sitting in the waiting room of Urgent Care. The night before, she’d been working her waitressing job, when the whole place filled with smoke. She told us she’d felt perfectly fine, but just a couple hours later, she was coughing, and it was getting harder and harder for her to breathe. She’d woke up that morning, feeling even worse. She had been planning on coming home, for the week, over her school’s Spring Break. Both Adam and I were very worried about her. We anxiously waited for her to see the doctor, and make sure she was okay. Fortunately, the doc said it was just a coincidence that her symptoms first appeared shortly after the smoke exposure. What she actually had, was influenza. Mj, B, and I all got our flu shots, in the Fall. I’d reminded Mikayla, multiple times, to stop by any minute clinic or pharmacy, and get hers. Unfortunately, she hadn’t gotten it done. Since her symptoms had only begun hours before she saw a doctor, he prescribed a round of Tamiflu, to help fight the virus. He also prescribed her a strong cough medicine, which would make her sleepy. I talked with her, while she picked up her medications. My poor kid was still crying and just plain miserable. She wanted to drive home. As much as I wanted her to be here, I told her absolutely not! She didn’t need to be out on the roads, driving home alone, as sick as she was. Adam had been in a darn near panic, and wanted to jump in his truck and go down to Knoxville to get her. With Mj at her competition, she wouldn’t be back until late that night. One of us needed to be able to pick Mj up. I offered to drive to Knoxville, and stay the night there with Mikayla. Then, I could at least follow her home, if she was up to it, on Sunday. By the time she got her meds and back to her house, she’d calmed down and decided she wanted to just get into her bed and sleep. So, Adam and I checked in with her, that night and all the next day, Sunday. By Monday, she was feeling a lot better. She drove home, that afternoon.

Oh, and Mj’s team placed third, at their competition!

Mikayla left, this morning, headed back to Knoxville. Adam was helping a friend put up fence, today. This evening, he grilled us a couple racks of ribs. I made scalloped potatoes, and cut up cucumber slices in vinegar water with onion. I love it when our meals look so pretty and colorful!

I spent the day working on laundry, and cleaning up around the house. I’ve been getting my Spring decor all set out. I’ve also been spending a few hours, here and there, making new craft projects.

I’ve kinda got a rustic/silly theme for our hall bathroom

I put a matching lampshade on our floor lamp, so it goes with my other one there on the cabinet, in our dining room. I really like it! Should’ve done that a long time ago.

It’s been another busy week, but it was fun having my girls all here. Mj’s Spring Break is this coming week. So, she’ll be home, hanging out with me all week. I’ve got a handful of things for us to do. Some of them she probably won’t be too excited about, like cleaning all the upstairs bedrooms and bathrooms. I think she’ll have fun going hiking with me, over in the caves near us, though. Of course, we’ll surely also be making a trip, or three, to our favorite coffee spots.

On Thursday, I’d been out with my girls all afternoon. Adam didn’t get home from work, until nearly 8:00pm. By the time we all got home, it was too late to really cook supper. I made one of the quick and easy meals everybody here likes, Fritos chili cheese wraps. For anybody interested, I’ll drop the link for them, here.

https://youtube.com/watch?v=xmdbTdD5Iy8&si=4_a4AUv2XsP5W4zW

Xx, Eve.

Friday

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Oh my god,

how are you so genius?

She said,

please, can I lick your penis?

It was just a Friday…

~Jeris Johnson

Pretty much all the other lyrics in this song are super inappropriate. But also, I like the song. I find myself jamming to it, on Fridays, frequently.

Today, it was almost hot enough for me to make that tough decision, to cut on our AC. I knew Adam would come home to a darn near intolerably warm house. Still, I’m just not quite ready to do that. I love having our windows open, with fresh air pouring inside. This evening, our neighbor was in his garage playing his electric guitar. The race track, that’s not far from us, played us its own music, cars zooming ‘round in its circle. Those things are, what I refer to as, “the sounds of Summer”.

This evening, I mentioned to Adam how much I want us to go to the “Rock N Jock” softball game, again. Every Summer, Nashville hosts their annual game. Musicians and first responders/military get together to play, and they raise money for the families of first responders/military. It’s just something that’s really fun to be at, and we’ve missed the last couple games. We’re making plans, with a bunch of our friends, to go again this year. This made me think of another fun thing I’d like to do again, Monster Jam. I absolutely love seeing all the cool monster trucks give us a show! My husband can’t say no to me. At least, not often. So, I think he’ll be making arrangements for us to do that, too.

Tonight was a perfect night to set up our cornhole boards. So, of course, we did. I so rarely ever drink, anymore. However, it’s basically a requirement, in cornhole. I just need a good “buzz”, and suddenly I’m in the sweet spot. Practically unstoppable, sinking them bags into the holes on our cornhole boards! We played, for a couple of hours, and then decided to go inside. I’d had a couple of drinks, and also just gotten done with my monthly period. As I was just about to make myself a cappuccino, I decided to send Adam a text, first.

One romp in our bedroom later, here I am. Writing in my blog. 😏

I think I’ll make that cappuccino, now, and then request a “mulligan”, from my husband…