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As you know, blogging is a labor of love that costs more than it earns.
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Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!!
My final trip to Florida to visit my son and his wife Amber was August of 2011. I picked that time to go for two reasons: One to help them move to Mississippi but more importantly, to meet my first grandchild.
In May of 2010 my son graduated from the Naval Academy and married his high school sweetheart the very next day. Then they started their lives together as a military family. By August of that year I was back to help them move to Florida, where my son would begin training as a pilot. Continue reading
I’m sitting down to write at a beautiful, peaceful setting that I want to share with you. I helped my son move this week, and it was a bit stressful, but to top it off, I caught my husband’s cold (yes, I’m throwing you under the bus John).
For the last two days I’ve been surviving on DayQuil and NyQuil, which has helped, but I’m still having trouble breathing.
So I’m going to keep this short, and go lay back down for a little while.
Our trip up to Oregon was a good one, with our first stop at my best friends house. She had a wonderful meal prepared for us when we arrived and we were treated like family, as usual. Continue reading
Busy weekend helping someone move. Why is moving so hard?
Whether one room or many, moving is a difficult process. Why is that, do you suppose? We are helping one son move this weekend, and then I’ll be heading East in a few days to help another son and his family move.
I’m excited that all of our kids will be in California soon. We will have a full house for a few days, while everyone gets settled in, but that will make for a wonderful Christmas.
Make it a great weekend…no matter what you are doing.
My husband is chivalrous. Whenever we are together, he will always open the door for me and hold it so I can walk through first. I don’t think that’s so unusual, as I’ve seen a lot of men do that. But, my husband even opens the car door for me. That act seems to be rare, with the exception of maybe going out on a date.
It’s very nice and I feel loved and cared for and somehow special because of it.
His chivalrous nature doesn’t stop at opening doors for me. If he sees me carrying something, he will jump to assist or say, “Let me get that”. If I pull a ladder out, he says, “I’ll do that”. He does all the heavy lifting and most of the hard work around the place. It’s pretty nice having him around.
But here’s the rub, it’s frustrating at times too. A part of me feels less than, or helpless when he jumps in to help. There are times when I don’t want help.