Tag: anniversary

My Tin Anniversary On WordPress

“Be not afraid of growing slowly; be afraid only of standing still.” ~Chinese proverb

This morning when I logged into WordPress to respond to comments on my post from yesterday, I was greeted with a note telling me I’m celebrating my 10th anniversary on WordPress. This seemed a little crazy to me, that ten years have slipped by since I made the commitment to begin writing again, so I went back to revisit my first post. Sure enough, it was written on December 6, 2011. In December 2011, our sons were 10 and 8. Most of my posts were about their crazy antics or our family life, which makes sense because in December 2011 my primary focus was our sons.

Fast forward ten years. Our sons are now 20 and 18, one is in Washington at college and the other will be heading off next fall. So my primary focus needs to change. In my early forties, I was pretty busy becoming what I thought I was supposed to be. I was working to be a better mother, a better child, a better spouse, and an overall better, more informed, more fit, more attractive human being. I was working at becoming something, which was kind of pointless because I already was something. Now in my early fifties I understand that I don’t need to become anything to be valuable. In fact, I am busily engaged in learning how to simply be and to meet myself where I am at. I’m busy learning how to just be me.

Image credit to Gary Larson of The Far Side

I started this blog ten years ago to hold myself accountable. I wanted to be able to track progress and growth. Mostly what I’ve done, though, is create a catalog of my life. I’m still an over-thinker. I still take on more than I should. I still don’t know where I’m headed. But I do have a record of where I’ve been. I’m growing slowly but, thanks to my blog, at least I have proof that I have not been standing still.

Posted on by Me 1

What Not To Do At Customs

Today is our seventeenth wedding anniversary. We woke up at 3 a.m. to fly out of Ecuador. Arrived in Miami for a five hour layover. Had lunch with our boys at TGI Fridays in the airport. Will soon leave for a 4.5 hour flight back to Denver. Then, with any luck, we will arrive home around 10 p.m. and collapse. Yep. We still know how to keep the romance alive.

The best part of being married for so long is knowing the other person so well. As we were getting ready to land, Steve told me he would fill out our Customs form. Now, I know my husband well enough to know this was a bad idea, but I let him do it anyway. I don’t know why. You see, three years ago we were returning from Norway and Steve, honest and literal guy that he is, told the Customs official we’d been in contact with livestock while abroad. Why? Because we petted two sheep on the head for less than a minute. Try explaining that weirdness to a guy who just needed to make sure we weren’t bringing Mad Cow disease into the U.S. Today, Steve decided to give me a repeat of that insanity for our anniversary.

“I marked on the form that we were on a farm,” he informed me as we approached the immigration desk.

“What? Why would you do that?” I whined.

“Well, we visited that sugar cane place,” came his reply.

“That was NOT a farm.”

“Yes it was. They were growing sugar cane.”

“Farm implies livestock. There was no livestock,” I answered.

“There were chickens,” he said.

“Those were wild chickens,” I replied.

When we handed our form to the Customs official, the poor man looked annoyed. It was obvious he was already sizing Steve up to be the paperwork nightmare he is.

“You were on a farm?” he asked with great disgust.

“Well, it was sort of a farm. They were raising sugar cane,” Steve answered.

I rolled my eyes. The agent rolled his eyes too.

He could see the paperwork mounting because of this dope who was being absurdly candid about his vacation. He decided to cut to the quick.

“Did you STEP in anything?” he inquired.

At this point, I began praying Steve would not ask what kind of thing was he referring to. I stared at him, sending him telepathic “shut the hell up” messages.

“No. I don’t think so,” he wisely answered.

“You’re cleared,” he said, dying to get rid of us.

I got about five feet past the customs guy and busted up laughing. Seventeen years ago I married the guy who made me laugh the most. We’re still laughing.

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Posted on by Me 2