Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Happy Birthday, Durwood!

Today my beloved is 76 years old.  That means that we've known each other for over 40 years and been married for nearly 39 of those years.  Makes me feel old just writing those words but I've gotta say I wouldn't want to have spent the last 38 3/4 years with anyone else.  He makes me laugh, he makes me feel safe, he makes me feel brave, and he puts up with what he calls my "manias" like writing and knitting and sewing and all the other enthusiasms I've embraced and shed over the years.  He held my hand when we learned to SCUBA dive and then worked hard so we could go to all kinds of interesting and exotic places to dive.  He thinks I'm smart and pretty and funny, and he's always glad to see me when I come home.  What's not to love?  Happy birthday to the most patient and tolerant man in this or any other part of the world.  I'd marry you all over again if the need arose.

Last night I drove down south of Sheboygan to Kohler-Andrae State Park, where Lala was
camping for a couple nights, to have supper with her.  On the drive down the sky and clouds were so gorgeous I had to juggle my cellphone to take a couple pictures.  Lala had made foil packets of carrots with herbs and some coconut oil and other foil packets with red potatoes with herbs and coconut oil that she cooked over the fire.  I brought long forks that we used to spear weenies that we roasted over the fire and then sliced into our plates of veggies.  You guys, I have got to buy me some of that coconut oil.  Those veggies were delicious and the Oscar Meyer weenies were greatly improved by their
time over the fire.  (we both know that we should have had "good" weenies but every once in a while you've just gotta have those flabby pink Oscar Meyer ones like my city grandma served)  Once the supper was devoured we took a little walk to see the sun set behind a row of trees, then we went back to roast (and sometimes catch on fire) a few marshmallows.  It had been ages since either of us had roasted marshmallows so it felt like a guilty pleasure.  We checked the package and a serving of 5 marshmallows is a mere 90 calories and we decided that roasting (and burning) them probably burnt off at least half of those calories.  It was great to sit there poking the fire, listening to the crackling as the word burned, and seeing the fires in the campsites around us.  Very peaceful and relaxing.  Oh, another cool thing was that there were honey bees in a tree by the bathrooms.  It was roped off and there were signs that said "honey bees at work; if you don't both us we won't bother you."  I was glad they didn't try to move the bees, they just gave them space and assumed that people would respect that space.  Way to be mature, guys.

Since I had to work today Durwood suggested, well, kind of insisted, that I get a motel room in Sheboygan so I didn't have to drive an hour home after 9 or 10 o'clock.  I didn't argue and got a room at a Super 8.  This morning I found out that the snooze feature on my travel alarm doesn't work.  The alarm went off at 6:30, I hit snooze, and woke up at 8:11.  I needed to open the store at 10 and it's just over an hour's drive from where I was.  Yikes!  And as an added bonus, the hot water in the shower didn't ever get above tepid.  I wasn't brave enough to stand under the spray but I did manage to wash off the campfire smell and wash my hair--and I made it to work with 2 minutes to spare.  Go, me!  And I will be buying a new travel alarm this weekend, one that snoozes.

Sudoku Terracotta #7 block got started today in between customers.  I think this might be my favorite color--or maybe the lime is--although I do like the violet too.  But not the berry, that's pink and I'm just not a fan, but it went with the other colors when I was picking colors so I've got pink--berry pink, not Pepto Bismol pink.  (I've typed "p-i-n-k" enough in this paragraph that it's starting to look misspelled, don't you hate when your mind plays tricks on you like that?)

August 5--Dennis Frieborn, African Elephant.  Dolores had always been what people called "a big girl" with the emphasis on "big."  She was tall, just over six feet by her fourteenth birthday, and not exactly fat but she had plenty of meat on her bones, most of it muscle not fat.  Once she overheard Uncle Milo say, "You could hitch that girl to the plow and I reckon she could pull all day."  Dad and the rest of the uncles had laughed but Aunt Rita had shushed them and told them they should be ashamed of themselves for talking like that.  Dolores had stood in the barn between Papaw's draft horses, Dixie and Fleet, and she thought they were beautiful and strong.  Maybe that's what Uncle Milo meant to say, that she was beautiful and strong, not too big and awkward.

Allrighty then, it's dark and I'm tired and it's Durwood's birthday.  I should go sit by him and knit.

1 comment:

Aunt B said...

Belated Happy Birthday to the birthday boy. That is a great picture of him! Still such a handsome guy after ..... how many years??? Your little trip to meet up with your friend sounded delightful. Fun around the campfire has no age limit!!