I'm Feeling Lucky

As I was photo editing this hunky picture of Tyler, I clicked on the Picassa editing button called "I'm feeling lucky" and I thought, "I really AM feeling lucky." Tyler celebrated his 35th birthday on Sunday and I could not be more grateful to be married to him. To say I think he's wonderful would be a gross understatement, because that's just where it starts. I kinda find it amusing when I hear that people think things in any kind of a negative way, because CLEARLY they don't know him that well (yes, you know who you are) even if they think they do. And the fact that he is so loved and appreciated and befriended by so many good people in his life supports my perspective more than the naysayers.

This has been a crazy past month for us as Tyler quit his secure, stable, boring, life-sucking job at a bank to pursue his own business. The decision was not made lightly and has been a real leap of faith, but I trust him. Isn't that a good feeling? Yeah, it is, because even though we don't yet have insurance and we are still in the setting-up stages, I KNOW Tyler works hard for our family. I know his concern is for my and our kids' welfare long before he considers himself. Heck, I'm fairly certain he's considered his business partners, his extended family, and about everyone else before he considers himself. Years ago, when I asked Tyler if we could have our own house and not live with his parents anymore, I knew that meant he'd be trading in his dreams of a professional golf career for the daily business grind that he dreaded a bit. Luckily his career was well-advised and he had a great support system (not to mention golf benefits, customer lunches/visits) that he wasn't a banker who sat in a suit behind a desk from 8-5. Long story short, for many years, his job suited him just fine. Since the tank of the economy and some greedy maneuverings, that ideal banker job was replaced by another more fraught with suit-wearing, cell-phone-call-monitering (aka babysitting), and a lot less satisfaction. It was time for a change. And change we have.

Being a business owner (and the wife of one) has brought with it a lot of lessons learned already and one of them on my part has been patience and faith. Not real easy lessons for me to swallow, but I'm trying nonetheless. I'm grateful for Tyler's willingness to go for it when others would be scared, content, or unable. I'm grateful to REALLY believe that if we lose it all we can build it back again. And I'm grateful to know that he loves me and I love him and we both love our family so we'll be alright if everything else goes away. Lest you think this post is too Pollyanna, I'll admit to my bites of cynicism and frustration . . . probably out of fear and my loss of control than anything else. But here's what really makes me know I'm lucky, Tyler keeps forgiving me and being there for me. I love that man.

Soo, with this mature man of 35 I am thankfully wed. We used to joke before we were ever married that he definately got the short end of our relationship stick, and that's never been more true than these days. I love you, Babe (even though you never read these posts and I could tell crazy lies about myself and what a wonderful, perfect wife I am and you would never dispute me online!) Yes . . . I'm feeling pretty lucky.

(Post Script: After writing that I'm feeling pretty lucky, I figured it would be my luck that Tyler WILL read this post and for the next month he'll be reminding me what "feeling lucky" really means.)

25 again?

One time my friend Amber (who I have totally lost contact with . . . so sad) called me on my birthday. I was walking around Target and when I answered she just said, all aghast and surprised sounding, "Can you believe you are 25? Man, you are so old!" I totally cracked me up because I think that year I turned 29 or something. I don't know why it caught me so funny. Maybe because I never feel any older than 25 (or 19 for that matter) and all my friends seem about 25 too. It's kinda making it weird that our kids are now 10, 14, 16 years old (which makes us teenage mothers), but still . . . Anyway, my most favorite sister in the whole wide world turned 25 this year (I know, can you believe it? For the 6th time. It's amazing.)

(Erin and Jerolyn celebrating Erin's birthday at Zaba's)

So, to celebrate this momentous day in her life, we met for a yummy friends lunch at Zaba's. I'm sure she wasn't totally shocked as she arranged a couple years ago for lots of my friends to meet us for lunch there, but that was this year's plan for her and we had a great time. Our friend, Sandi, manages the place and she reserved a bunch of tables for us and we filled them best we could with burritos, bowls, and chips and guac.

And birthday brownies. Oops, should have gotten the 2 & 5 candles.

Thanks to all our friends who came to celebrate with us and a special thanks to Erin for being born. I'm pretty sure she knew exactly what she was doing when she jumped to the front of the gonna-be-born-right-after-my-sister line. She has always been my best playmate and friend. If there were horrible news to tell my kids that I couldn't tell them, or fabulous times that I couldn't celebrate with them, or secrets to share that they can't tell me . . . I want them to tell them to Erin. There are days when I talk to her a billion times, we text a million more, and then we sit up and chat on facebook just to make sure we have it all covered - and sometimes that's not enough. I feel her pains and worry about her happiness. I still think I should protect her and help her even though she's completely capable and has a wonderful, funny, supportive husband in Kevin. Bottom line, she's "my person" and I love her. Lots. Here's some of us that celebrated her birthday, because they think she's great too.

Later that night the family gathered for some yummy Metro Pizza dinner and then some friends' families joined us for cake, ice cream, and homemade scones. Oh yeah, and blueberry crumb cake that nobody really ate. Thanks to the folks' for doing all that; they think she's pretty swell too.

Here's to lots more 25th birthdays! Love you, Erin!

Take my blood, but hold the details, please!

K, I have a ba-dillion things to blog about (most of which my mom will be the only one to really care once I post them), but thought I'd share this loverly experience I had at Quest Diagnostics on Friday.

SINCE Tyler is now a thriving business owner (okay, maybe not thriving, but we're going to use a lot of positive speak when mentioning said new business venture) I had one final day of insurance so I went to have my blood work run (nothing exciting, just normal blood panel check-up stuff.) Of course I had to wait a bit, but it wasn't too bad, when the phlebotomist called me back to start the poking and prodding and sucking of the blood. Now, I do NOT want to sound judgemental, but I immediately take stalk in the pictures on the bulletin board and the demeanor of the woman helping me and I surmise that late 40 something, nearly balding woman is a tough cookie. She clearly has children and a couple of grandchildren, and based on the accent she is not from Vegas. By the end of our "visit," after poking both my arms, everything I had concluded in the first 30 seconds was confirmed. All and all it wasn't an unpleasant experience, if you don't count that the phlebotomist never once looked me in the face - wierd.

HOWEVER, as she was moving the needle around trying to run into a vein, another blood lady comes by our open door and announces that she's going to the bathroom. There was a quick, but kinda TMI conversation about how the other woman was telling my lady because my lady was "in charge" and since the other woman was planning on being "in there awhile" she wanted to let my lady know. At the time I had two thoughts, "My lady should really be focusing on finding my vein AND who in the world has such a candid conversation in front of patients." It only got better when the other woman came out. Here was their conversation:

Other woman: "Boy I'll tell ya. That sure spells R-E-L-I-E-F. I really had to pee."
My lady: "Oh yeah?"
Other woman: "Yeah, like you'd say, 'Like a racehorse.' I had to pee like a racehorse."
My lady: "It's because you hold it too long."
Other woman: "Nah, it's because I'm too fat. I got no bladder control."

Now, I understand that place is all about the fluids, but c'mon!!! I cannot remember being in a situation where I was witness to such an unprofessional conversation. Luckily on the second arm we were able to get the sample needed and I was out of there. I dunno, maybe I'm getting old, but conversations about the bathroom habits are best left to close friends, family, and the blogs. Sheesh!