Competition or Completion?

He's at it again. My husband is obsessed with a younger woman. . .

. . .the younger version of me. He keeps finding old pictures and scanning them to remind him of "what a catch he got." Great! How can the old me compare with the younger version???

Well, first of all, I am still the same person, but the packaging has changed. I am no longer cute and petite. However, the younger me was very self-conscious, depressed, and didn't feel as if I deserved to have anyone love me. Now, I don't feel that way at all. After all, I know who I am, and I like myself, finally. (The depression meds really help.) I am older, wiser, more confident, and I have accomplished a great deal in my life with the help of the Hunk and our Savior, Jesus.


We have been married nearly 28 years, weathered a lot of storms (mostly financial) and now I finally hear him say how much he appreciates me. I am past my bloom, but he realizes that I waited for him, chose him, loved him, raised our girls, finished my education (for him) and have remained devoted to him.

Well, all I can say is "He's stuck with me now!" (And we're both happy about that.)

Family Favorite

Ok. After looking at this picture on my husband's computer screen day after day, and on his study wall ---I have decided to share it with my friends.

But first, I want to share some background to the photo. The year was 1984. I had read that book in my teens, and I was scared to face "Big Brother." But the real 1984 was nothing like the book. . .at least in my experience.

The Hunk had just graduated from the University of Idaho the previous December with his Bachelor of Science in Mining Engineering. (Not long after most of the major producing mines in the Silver Valley had closed.) He had spent the remainder of December, January and February looking for a job in mining, but found none. He was so depressed, that I quipped to a friend, "I'm gonna need a pancake turner just to get him off the floor." He didn't want to socialize - he just wanted a job.

Our first, and at that time, only child, M had just turned 2 in the fall. I had become the dreaded age of 30. (Remember the phrase: "Don't trust anyone over 30?") I felt old inside, but I had to keep encouraging the man I married that God had not abandoned us, but would provide a job.

In late February, he got a call to interview at the Crescent Mine (the silver producing portion of Ol' Uncle Bunker) located across the street from the famed Sunshine Mining Company. The position was for a Junior Engineer, and he was hired. We were so elated! Not only had God answered our prayers for a job in mining engineering, but he had answered my prayers to be back in the "Valley."

We told our families, packed our goods, and moved in with my parents (again) - until we found a house to rent in Kellogg. That summer, as we visited my folks in Pinehurst, my mom snapped this photo of our little family. It has become one of our favorites.

Summer of '84

The Worst Date Ever

I originally posted this piece on my classmates.com site. I thought I'd put it here for a bit of entertainment.


It was a "blind" date in the sense that I had not met this guy prior to our "date." I don't know how he got my number, but he called me when I was attending Bible School and visited with me for an extended period of time. We had love of Algebra and Greek in common, so he asked me to attend church with him the following Sunday.
On Sunday he picked me up for church and we drove across town to the "sister church" to the one I was attending. He wasn't bad looking, but things went downhill from there. First of all, he sang louder than the rest of the congregation put together. I didn't know if this was typical, or if he was trying to impress me -but I was embarrassed for him and to be seen with him.
After church he invited me to his place for lunch, and I thought "Well, that's kind of sweet - he's gonna cook for me." So I said sure. When he started to turn into the Funeral Home, I laughed. (At least he had a sense of humor).
"Why are you laughing?" he asked.
"Because it's a Funeral Home," I chuckled, letting him know I thought the joke was funny.
"I live here." he replied -not laughing or even smiling.
"You're kidding me, right?"
"No, I work here, and live upstairs," he explained as we pulled into the back of the home and parked. I was too dumfounded to say anything.
His apt was small and nice, but I turned down his invitation to tour the Funeral Home. He turned on his TV to some football game, and said I could watch TV while he phoned the Sunday School kids from his class that hadn't made it to Sunday School that morning. (I hated football - but thought - I'll be a good sport.)
After about 20- 30 minutes - Yea - He took a short break from phone calling to see if I wanted to start lunch. (What? I am thinking. He's not going to cook?) He asked me if I would heat up a can of Dinty Moore Stew, while he finished his phone calls.
"I don't know how to make Dinty Moore Stew." I said (I'd never even heard of it.) Don't get me wrong, I could cook - but mostly from scratch and this stuff was in a can.
He was exasperated, "You just dump it in a pan and heat it up." (Now I was angry. . .he brought me to his place to entertain myself with a football game he wanted to watch, but wasn't. . .and to cook him lunch while he made a bazillion phone calls. . .)
I didn't want to go through his cupboards looking for a pan and "the stew" and play "the little woman" while he tried to impress me with how great a Sunday School teacher he was. So I said, "I've never made stew from a can, and I don't know where anything is."
He stormed into the kitchen, opened the can, and dumped it into the pan. He turned on the stove and said, "Do you think you can watch it, so it doesn't burn, while I finish my phone calls."
I wish I had had the nerve to ask him to just take me home, but my blood sugar was low and I was getting shaky. So I mumbled, "Yes."
The lunch time was strained, the stew was awful, and we didn't talk much through lunch or when he drove me home. Thankfully, he never called again. I guess I wasn't what he was looking for - and he certainly wasn't my idea of anyone I'd want to see again.

Assistant Manager - finally!

Yesterday was the Big Day. . .well - no "hats and horns" no cake, balloons, or fanfare :( But I did officially become the Assistant Manager of our store! Woo Hoo!

The invitation was first presented to me last May or June. I was apprehensive (since I only started working there in March). So in August, when I returned from vacation, I became one of three supervisors with the view toward the Assistant Manager position. My biggest asset is that I am good with people - both employees and customers.

I was told I would become AM around the Holidays, but I made a BIG mistake in Oct-Nov -when I failed to open the store one Saturday. (I thought I was working the night shift, but Oops - I was scheduled to open.) So, it was back to "probation" - while still remaining a supervisor.

Then it was to be after the Holidays, then during Inventory in early February. . .then on Tues this week - or Wednesday - finally Thursday. I signed the paperwork, which included a raise to my surprise and great pleasure. . .(now I am making more than the starting workers at Fiesta Ole').

The cool thing is that the Hunk took me out to dinner to celebrate! He's proud of my accomplishment and says it is a great resume builder. (He forgets that I am likely too old to be hired by a company that pays more. . .despite my education, experience, and accomplishments.)

No matter - my fall back is my writing (as is his). Now if one of us could just get published!

• See: Ponderosa Pinings: New Year for info on my writing.
  

Quirky Meme

The Rules:

• Link to the person that tagged you.
• Post the rules on your blog.
• Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself.
• Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs.
• Let each random person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website.

I was tagged by Inland Empire Girl at Gathering Around the Table to do this meme.

Number One Quirk: I like to wear my pajamas around the house on my days off. (So don't stop by unannounced. I won't answer the door.)

Number Two Quirk: On my days off, I start the day by feeding the dog, drinking tea and playing on the computer. On the days I work mornings, I still feed the dog and drink tea, but I daresn't turn on the computer!

Number Three Quirk: I read myself to sleep every night. I usually have to wait for the hunk to fall asleep first, because he can't fall asleep with a light on. I can't read anything exciting, because it revs me up instead of winding me down. Right now I am reading "Great Expectations" by Dickens. It's quite good, but not a real "page turner."

Number Four Quirk: All my shoes are black leather. I only have a three or four pair including one dressy pair. They are all comfortable and go with all my outfits.
Number Five Quirk: I take my own pillow while traveling, and use it every place I sleep. This way, I sleep better and don't get sick from latent cigarette smoke lurking in someone else's pillow feathers.

Number Six Quirk: I don't tolerate guilt. I was raised on it, didn't like the taste of it, and I don't dish it out.

Bonus Quirk: I often use some of my Dad's lingo when I talk. It enlivens the conversation and gets a few laughs - except when I have to explain it.

Feel free to do this meme. I decided not to tag anyone in particular, since I haven't been writing much lately, and who knows if anyone is reading my doggerel.