Taking A Step Back

It has come to my attention that I haven’t been online much since Jeremy’s birthday.

That totally wasn’t my intention.

We went to the Lake where my phone thought it was in Canada for most of the weekend.
And while I love you all, I don’t love you enough to spend nearly $16/MB to show my love.

I took lots of photos over the weekend. This being one of them.

Between the Tire Treads

Sometimes you see the driveway, but other times you need to see what’s growing
between the two strips of earth you drive on.

So while I am dealing with things at home, I appreciate your patience.

If you know me in real life, please do not call or text me and ask what is going on.

The answer will be simple, life.

Thank you so much for understanding.

Celebrating Thirty Four

You celebrate your thirty-fourth birthday at work. I truly hope it isn’t a long day. You have way too many of those.

You work tirelessly and so much. I know why you do it.

For us.

You gave up your life for us at the age of 18 when I discovered I was pregnant. You signed it away to Uncle Sam.

You don’t think much of your birthday. To you its just another day and most days you can’t even recall how old you are.

Day in, day out you wake, you work, you come home and you sleep. Sure we get to spend time with you but its so much less now that you are working at this job.

Your hands are callused, but I love running my hands over them. To feel the texture, the marks that you bear for us.

Your skin is beginning to weather and in the summer it is a deep brown. I think it makes you look more rugged.

You have crow’s feet from all the squinting you do outside in the sun and laugh lines from smiling much.

You think of us before you think of yourself. Always, that is just how you do it.

You are the head of our household, and while some people I know just don’t understand that dynamic, I don’t really care, you wear your title well.

I want to do so many thing for you on your birthday, but you only want one thing.

A fresh Romanburger from Mr. Hero’s when you return home. A simple request and one that should be easily obtained as long as you aren’t working later than 11 PM.

You give me everything I want and while I may grumble from time to time, I don’t mean it. Sometimes I am just grumpy.

I honestly don’t know if I could be as self sacrificing as you have been to us. I would like to say I could, but I just don’t know.

You are a special breed of man, one I don’t see much of anymore. You don’t care about your gadgets or your looks.

You could care less if you don’t see the latest movie or get to a sporting event.

Your demands in our life are few. A clean house, hot meals some of the time, clean clothes, and quiet during the 16 games of the Browns football season.

Happy Birthday my love, and on this day I wish that I could have a little more of your simplier outlook on things.

I think it could make my life that much easier.

Jeremy-1

A Moment

This past Sunday the family and I attended my step grandmother’s memorial service.

It was small and attended by extended family of my step mother’s. Most people I haven’t seen in at least 17 years or so.

I am really good with faces, not always names, but I can always remember a face.

I didn’t recognize a one of them. Not a single one.

I know why I didn’t recognize them and why I got all panicky feeling inside. It took me a moment after fleeing to the sanctuary of the church for that quiet and solace that only you can find there. A moment of prayer, of reflection, and a quick snap of the camera (you had to know that was coming, didn’t you?) And I returned to Fellowship Hall to eat lunch and spend time with my girls and husband.

I know that I don’t often talk of my biological dad here much. I talk of the trips to his house when something crazy happened at my own. But I don’t really go into any stories from his house on my blog.

Its weird how you can know someone your whole life, yet not really know them at all.

In a way I blamed him for my parent’s divorce. I thought that he went out and got a new family.

There are other reasons, but we won’t be discussing those on my blog today.

There are no photographs of the two of us together. He, like me, prefers to be behind the camera.

While at the luncheon I walked over to him and we chatted about this and that. Nothing too trivial, but nothing too important either. Just two people shooting the breeze amongst a bunch of people that we really didn’t know.

I left my camera on the table with my family and my husband, seeing the interactions between us decided to try to capture the moment. With only the 50mm lens on the camera, it was hard. He apologized later, saying he didn’t do a very good job.

But I disagree.

A Moment-1

A Moment-2

My slip is showing and I am not standing up straight, but those aren’t the first things I notice about this photo.

Even the people that are out of focus wandering in and out of the frames don’t distract me from moment he captured between us. I am not sure what was said, but we are both geniunely happy and smiling.

I don’t think I have any photos of us like that.

And its something I will cherish always.

Flashback Friday-The Hawaii Five-O Edition

So here’s the thing-all day yesterday I thought yesterday was Thursday. I had a post in my head and was going to type it out and schedule it to post first thing this morning. I

Looking into those eyes

I always think of The Chicken as my baby. She got that nickname because of her long chicken legs when she was an infant.

I know that I probably baby her more than I should. There is just something about knowing something is your last that makes you savor it all that much more.

And then I see a photo like this and I get a glimpse of the woman that she is rapidly becoming and it takes my breath away and makes me want to curl up in a corner rocking back & forth in denial, all at the same time.

365-94

Dearest Chicken, I love you and love to see the woman that you are becoming, but you really don’t need to change into her too quickly.

flashback Friday-The Easter Tradition

Each year we would get to go shopping for an Easter outfit.

My parents didn’t make us get frilly dresses or even something dressy, they just wanted us to get something we would wear.

I think all those years of getting us the frilly stuff only to wear once or twice, only for us to outgrow, made them realize that practical was better than traditional.

My favorite Easter outfit to date has to be the year I was in sixth grade, I got a Pepsi shirt with cartoon animals on it (all enjoying refreshing Pepsi, of course) there was another t-shirt underneath it to layer with it. My jeans that were long enough to tag roll (I think that is what they were called) 2 pairs of socks to layer and my Reebok Hightops with the double velcro top.

Each year we would get an Easter basket. Depending on which house I was at would dictate what exactly was in my basket (and yes some years I got two baskets because I am just cool like that)

I like sweets, but I have to be in the mood for them and I am kind of a snob when it comes to candy. But I could eat my weight in Cadbury Eggs. The ORIGINAL Cadbury Eggs.

Don’t try to give me some knock off egg or even those caramel ones that Cadbury tries to pawn off on you people. I want the full sized eggs and I want a lot of them.

There is also a certain way to eat the said eggs, but that is a post for another day

After a while my parents decided against the whole basket thing and went with getting us stuff that we would like.

I would get a sleeve of Cadbury Eggs and I was in heaven.

The tradition continued year after year.

After I had the girls he would come over and bring them each a chocolate bunny and some sort of sugary breakfast treat. (My dad was totally the guy that would get the giant danish for his one year old granddaughter and expect her to eat the whole thing in one sitting, even when the giant danish was bigger than her head!)

He always went to Malley’s to get the Easter Bunnies for the girls (and the nephews as well) and they do not sell Cadbury Eggs. So he decided that he would get me a box of Chocolate Covered Strawberries.

I am not sure if I have ever mentioned it here, but I HATE Chocolate Covered Strawberries. Some of my friends wonder what kind of freak I am to hate chocolate Covered strawberries….but rest assured I hate them a lot.

Each year I would smile and thank him for the strawberries.

Each year he would see the fake smile on my face and then remember that I hated Chocolate Covered Strawberries. And each year he would say the same thing when he realized that I hated them.

“Damn it Heather, why didn’t you call me and tell me that you didn’t like these? I still can’t believe you don’t like them. They are chocolate. They are from Malley’s!! Just share them with Jeremy and the girls.”

And so it went for years. He would pull up in whatever box van he was driving at the time a couple days before Easter with the strawberries and the bunnies and assorted other treats and then he would be on his way.

Most years those strawberries sat in my fridge and started to ferment. Sometimes the girls would get one or two. Jeremy would sometimes polish off the box or I would share them with friends. But each year, I looked forward to them.

It was a very weird tradition. Who looks forward to getting a gift that makes them gag?

Each year when I hear a box van driving around my heart beats a little faster in anticipation that my dad is going to pull up with my Chocolate Covered Strawberries and each year my brain has to remind my heart that dad has been gone for years now and that I won’t be receiving any Malley’s Chocolate Covered Strawberries on this side of Eternity. And then I wonder, are there box vans in Heaven? Does my dad drive around delivering Malley’s Chocolate Covered Strawberries to those he loves up there? Would I eat them? Would I love them?

And then I realize that I would eat as many boxes of Chocolate Covered Strawberries as it took just to have one more Easter with him.

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