Young Love

Yesterday we had the joy of attending the wedding of a sweet young couple we know.

The groom is the son of our very dear friends and his new wife is actually our pastor's niece.
Small world. And when you live in the same small-ish town for decades...well it is even smaller. (Which is precisely WHY living in a small-ish town for decades makes life beautiful.)

This wedding has been much anticipated.
The dreaming, the planning, the merging of two lives and two families, the hope for a future filled with love and beauty and blessing. Yes, it was a wonderful celebration.

And, as weddings are known to be, it was also a tearful celebration. A true Kleenex affair. The bride, the groom, the best man and maid of honor, they all cried. So did the bride's parents and the groom's parents and the aunties and...well, a lot of the other the guests! (Except for my guy. He did exactly zero crying, and he wants to make sure that this fact is made known.)

I had several tearful moments. But it was when I was watching my friend dance with her son, dance her special dance, dance and cry...well, that was a tender moment. It was one of those times that causes you to reflect on the whole of a life. That here she was dancing with her boy. This little boy that she birthed not so long ago. The baby she nursed and walked the floors with at night. The boy whose hand she held and whose shoes she tied. The first one to call her mom. The first one to move right into her heart and set up camp, forever. Here she was dancing with that same boy. Except that boy had somehow become a grown up man. A grown up, married man. And it all happened so fast....

Hence the tears. And the hope of endless love for this sweet young couple.
Hugs from us to you.

A Finch-y Kind of Day

Lots of happy little finches in the yard today.

His and Her Mornings

Me and my guy...we are different. We have been married for more than a quarter of a century, and it seems like that would bring some oneness, but it hasn't.

Mornings. That is where our differences really shine.

He is up at 5 a.m. Yes, 5 a.m.
Me? I do not like getting up before 6:30. Ever.

He likes his coffee strong and black and bitter.
I like my coffee cup to be filled with 1/3 coffee and 2/3 milk.

He likes his eggs scrambled, right out of the shell.
Me? I like them scrambled with a little milk and cheese. Light and fluffy, please.
Oh, and he likes to put butter in his eggs "so they don't stick to the pan".
I say better stuck to the pan than stuck to the hips.

He likes his oranges sliced into wedges.
I like mine cut into wagon wheels.

Toast?
He wants his barely heated with a big pile of butter right in the middle.
I like mine with actual toast marks and lightly buttered from edge to edge.

Every day.
And after another quarter of a century?
I suspect that it will be more of the same, with a side of wrinkles.

It's the commercials stupid

Can I say "stupid" on my blog?
How about if it is a reference to the Clinton campaign of 1992 (yeah, it was that long ago!).

So anyway...........
I am not a football fan. Don't watch it. Don't pay attention to my guy when he blithers on and on about it. Don't have a favorite team. Don't go to football parties. And I certainly DO NOT watch the Superbowl. Not even for the commercials. But, I will hop onto You Tube and check out the commercials after all the hoopla dies down.

This Chevy commercial was a good one.