Okay, shall we all practice together? Everyone at the same time say, “Aaaawwww!!!” Because you know that’s what we’ll all be saying when we come over and read your post about how you and your husband met and fell in love. 

Since I already shared the story of how Matt and I started dating (which is what started this whole idea anyway) I won’t re-write it for you here. But, while I’ve got you…can I just share something really sweet about how my husband loves me?

While we were in California on Christmas day…Matt’s Aunt Pat, who is a professional photographer, gathered everyone and took several family shots. Those pictures are such treasures now especially since that was our last Christmas with Grandpa.

As everyone was packing up to leave that day, Aunt Pat walked around with her camera taking just a few more quick pictures. She came up to us and said, “Okay you two…cheek to cheek”. Matt and I paused and I grabbed his face for a cheek-to-cheek shot. We peeked into her camera real quick and both of us loved how the picture turned out.

A couple of weeks after we got home, we still hadn’t heard from Aunt Pat about the pictures. I was surprised that Matt brought it up a time or two. He said, “I just really loved that picture she took of you and me right before we left.”

One night, I peeked over his shoulder as he was writing this email to his aunt:

Thanks so much for taking pictures on Xmas day. When I saw the impromptu pic of Laura and I, I loved it and have been eagerly anticipating having it. When you get a chance to send that one, I’d love it…she’s my best and that picture really shows how much we enjoy each other.

It melted me. I love how he wrote, “she’s my best”….not she’s my best friend or she’s my best girl. Simply…she’s my best.

Let’s hear it:  “Aaaawwww…” 

Okay, I’m done gushing now. Thanks for putting up with me. I promise to write about something disgusting and boring in the near future. In the meantime…I’ll just keep trying to live up to the challenge of being “his best”. 
——————————————–

Now it’s your turn! Share your love story with us!  How did you and your husband meet and start dating? What’s your story? Write about it on your blog, then come link up here with us! Be sure to leave a link on your post sending people back here! If you don’t have a blog and want to share your story, email it to me and I’ll put it on a webpage for you, then link it up so people can read it!

[blenza_autolink code]

You’re right. It has been a long time since I posted one of these. What with all the healthy recipe posts and daily encouragement there is to write about, I nearly forgot all about how I promised to embarrass myself over and over.

Now, I do need to let you know…and you may be disappointed in me after hearing this….but the upcoming story about how I shop-lifted is not the only time I’ve done something that is not in accordance with the law. 

No, in fact just last weekend, I’m ashamed to admit, I was involved in another sort of criminal activity. 

We had company all weekend, as you may recall, and two of my guests were riding in my van with me. We went downtown to do a little shopping (because that’s what we women must do when we get together, can I get an amen?). As I pulled out of the driveway, there was a truck blocking the alley, leaving me no choice but to turn around and go the wrong way out of the driveway. 

Yes, indeed. I drove out the in. I went right over that arrow painted onto the pavement showing me that this was the innie and the other side of the driveway had the outie. I know. I know. But it was an act of desperation.

If you haven’t already lost all faith in me…please do continue reading so that you can learn about the time I shop-lifted: 

It was my sophomore year in high school. You know how 15 year old girls can be. Especially when they are on a Mixed Ensemble Trip. Wearing a performance outfit. That matches everyone else in the group. 

We (about 15 of us kids, I think) had just finished singing and performing (beautifully, I’m certain) at some Lady’s Tea Thingy (I’m pretty sure that was the name of it) and had ridden the school bus a few miles toward home. The driver stopped at a gas station to let us all run in and get something to eat. 

I filled up a big cup full of pop (oh Pepsi, how I miss you) and picked out a candy bar and stood in line with everyone at the cash register. I began chatting with some of my friends (the ones wearing the same outfit that I was) while I waited in the long line. And waited. And I chatted..and said all kinds of intelligent things as most 15 year old girls do when they are standing around with a bunch of other 15 year old girls. (“oh my goodness, do you think my hair is like, you know, big enough?”) (Late 80’s you know)

Before I knew it, our ensemble director called us back to the bus, and the whole group walked out. And I went too. Because I was always respectful and obedient of my elders. 

We drove for about an hour and a half…my parents picked me up at the school and we drove another thirty minutes home and I went to bed.

Sometime within the next half hour or so as I was lying in bed drifting off, going over the events of the day…it hit me.

I sat up straight in bed and shouted, “MOM!!”

My mom came running in wondering what in the world was wrong with me. She thought I’d been asleep for a while.

“Mom,”  I said frantically and hysterically, “Ididn’tpayformypopandcandybar! I was standing there in line, andthenweallwentouttothebus…but I didn’t pay for mine!!!!!!!!!! I didn’t mean to. I just forgot!”

My dad had come into my room by then, to hear my shameful confession. Oh the guilt.

My mom and dad just calmly smiled and said that these things happen and that we’d be sure and take care of it.  I couldn’t see how they were being so calm.  I didn’t feel good about it at all, and I couldn’t believe I had done such a horrible thing. 

(Yes, I suppose I was capable of creating extra drama as a youth.)

The next day, my parents called the ensemble director to find out what town we were in when we had stopped at the gas station. Turns out it was the small town where my aunt and uncle live. How ’bout that? 

So they called my Aunt Millie and told her about the evil I had done, and she took $2 down to the gas station and explained the situation and paid for my stolen pop and candy bar. And then we paid my Aunt Millie back at the next family get-together. 

I wonder if my sweet Aunt Millie remembers doing that for me? 

Boy, I hope she knows that I’d go in and pay for something she’s stolen from my hometown gas station any day of the week. You can count on it.

Ever since I cut my hair too short a couple of months ago, I’ve been blessed with dorky looking pony tail stubs and the inability to french braid my hair. The layers have just been too short.

But the hair is growing. Slowly but surely. 

Two Saturday mornings ago as we were getting ready to head out the door for soccer games, I decided in a moment of desperation to try to get my hair into a quick french braid so that it would be out of my face.

And it worked. Barely…but it worked. My hair went up into a french braid. I was thrilled. I quickly joined Matt and the boys in the van so we could head off to the games.

We were at the soccer complex for the exact length of time that it takes to unload the van and walk to Justus’ game field when the first hunk of hair came out of my braid. I tried in vain to kind of tuck it back into the braid. Nope…it was too short.

Oh, if only I had a bobby pin, I thought.

I decided to rummage through my purse, because you just never know what might be hiding in there along with the dirty kleenexes and Walmart receipts.

And there, much to my delight, at the bottom of my purse…was a bobby pin!

Stuck to a raisin.

I’d never been so happy to see a bobby pin. 

I flicked the raisin off (before Malachi could see it and ask to eat it), and used it (the bobby pin, not the raisin) to stick the hunk of hair back into the braid.

Satisfied that my hair was better now…I went about the business of watching and cheering as my boys ran up and down and up and down the soccer field. 

After about the first game and a half, Malachi needed to go potty. It was when I took him into the bathroom and looked into the mirror that I saw it.

My hair was indeed up in a braid…but it had all loosened up into a big messy, stringy puff ball with wispies flying out all over.

I swallowed back my urge to cry out in horror at the sight of myself. How many thousands (okay, hundreds…our town isn’t that big) of people had seen me like that? It’s a wonder I didn’t scare the soccer balls out of the goal box. 

Well, I quickly pulled the barely hanging on rubber band out of my “braid”…used my fingers as a comb and decided to settle for the dorky pony tail stub. 

Oh yes, and also, while I was noticing my freaked out hair, I also noticed that the shirt I was wearing had apple juice splatter stains all over the front from the last time I had made applesauce without wearing an apron. Lovely.

Tying my jean jacket around my waist took care of the apple juice splatter stains by hiding most of it.

Oh, if only the raisin could somehow miraculously help with my hair….

After showing you this picture…you know I just couldn’t let it rest. I HAD to show you the after shots too. (So you could sleep better at night knowing that I don’t live in that kind of chaos…usually.)  :)

Oh, and in the interest of explaining myself and giving you all excuses for why that guest room got so messy…here are a few of my disclaimers:

In the winter, that room gets REALLLLLLY cold. If we have guests, they stay in our other guest room. So, I rarely go in there during the winter, except to throw something in there to put away later and then run back to the fireplace. That happens for months, until the room then looks like this. 

Also, the matress got flopped over recently because the boys saw it in there and immediately flopped it over so that they could enjoy some sumo wrestling and etcetera. ‘Nough said.

And, all of my HeavenlyHomemakers business stuff is in there, and again, in the winter I just go quickly grab what I need, thaw it out and ship it. Everything sort of gets scattered in that process but I’m too cold to care. (It is so weird to talk about fireplaces and being cold now that it is NOT cold.)

Okay, need more excuses? Because I can give you more…

Nah, let’s just get on to the pictures.

Again, here’s the before picture (like you needed to see THIS again…)

And after spending a couple of hours re-arranging and re-organizing…

Now don’t you feel refreshed and feel like you can sleep better now?! (I’m sure Char is sleeping better in there than she would have otherwise!)

While I’m showing you pictures of how busy I’ve been…here are some pictures of most of my baking for the Farmer’s Market yesterday. I spent the entire day baking…and it was a BLAST!! I LOVE TO BAKE!

After I baked these cinnamon rolls…I slathered them with frosting. I had five pans, and they all sold EASILY! Everything else sold well too…and we had a super fun time. 

Now, I just need to recover and get geared up for next week!! Whew!

Char’s coming!! I can’t wait!! She’ll be here in two more days…and we’ll have so much fun!!! Woohoo!!!

But…

Do you think I should finish getting my guest room ready?

Okay, what in the name of complete and total insanity possibly possessed me to show that to you?

More Wordless Wednesday here and here.

As if writing the ebooks:  Do the Funky Kitchen and What to Do With the Chicken in Your Kitchen just weren’t enough for me.

This week I actually had a chicken encounter…and well…it was…funky.

Tuesday afternoon I received a phone call from a friend who has….chickens. (Bet not everyone out there can boast that they have a friend with chickens.)  (BTW, say “friend with chickens” five times fast.)

Anyway, my friend with chickens was out of town and wasn’t going to be back home in time to gather the eggs for the night…and “would I mind going over and gathering the eggs?”

I got a few instructions…and said, “Sure. How hard can it be?”

My big boys were all with their Daddy, so I loaded up Malachi, and the 13 month old that I babysit for and away we went to go gather eggs. 

Both little boys LOVED seeing the chickens (yes, there were A LOT of them)!

Malachi and the baby were fascinated!!

So was I…because I think farm animals are awesome…and I also really like watching these happy, free ranging birds…who provide me with wonderful, healthy eggs. (Yeah, I’m a nerd like that.)  They’re just so cool!

After watching the chickens for a while we decided to go in search for the eggs. There didn’t seem to be any easy way in…and I had not asked my friend exactly where the chickens laid their eggs. 

But, if you look in the pictures I took, you’ll see two ways into the chicken coop. One is the door…which of course you can’t get to without going into the fenced area where the chickens are. 

 The second is the tiny little opening that you see in the picture above with Malachi. See on the very left where that chicken is coming out of the coop?

Yeah…I opted for the other door.

(Keep in mind, that I’m holding a 25 lb. baby…a camera, three egg cartons, and Malachi’s hand.) 

We made our way into the fenced area with the chickens…went in through the door and into the coop. There were no eggs in there. Hmm…

We went back out…and I’m thinking to myself, “WHERE would they have layed their eggs? I KNOW chickens usually lay their eggs where they roost, right? They don’t just randomly lay eggs out all over their yard and in the hay. They are not Easter Bunnies.”

And yet, I didn’t know where else to look…so we walked all around the inside of the fence looking for hidden eggs. (and don’t think I didn’t feel silly…because…I did.)

There were no eggs.

I even went so far as to talk to the chickens. I thought perhaps one of them would take pity on me and walk me to her prize of the day.

Either they didn’t quite understand what I was asking…or they were just enjoying watching the crazy lady who couldn’t find their eggs. Regardless, they didn’t give me any helpful information. (But I bet they had a big chuckle over me after I left.)

The baby I was holding now weighed 50 lbs and Malachi was getting a little freaked out being followed around by so many clucking creatures…

So, I went and put the boys into the van and gave them some toys…

And went back free handed to see if there was a door I was missing somewhere.

A-HA! A hidden door! And I heard bawking on the other side of it. So, I opened the door…and it led me to….another door.

And that door opened to the “secret room” that I had been looking for! And there…along with bunches of chickens…were two and a half dozen eggs!! Warm and just waiting for me to collect!

The chickens and I exchanged a few more pleasantries…because now that I knew where the hidden eggs were, I wanted to be sure and let the chickens know how much I appreciate their hard work and how much my family enjoys their delicious eggs. (Really, one mustn’t take the work of a chicken for granted.)

You won’t tell anyone will you…that I actually talked to the chickens? 

(You know, don’t you, that YOU would have too?!)

;)