HAAAAAAAAPY birthdayness!

Today is my honey's birthday, and even though he won't read this soon, if ever, I thought I would tell the world why MY honey is the best honey around.

He never tells me that I can't do something, even if it is something utterly ridiculous, like taking harp lessons.
He says that he wants to die at the same time as me, or within a few minutes so that we don't have to spend any time apart.
He SAYS that tickling and poking me means he loves me, though the jury's out on that one.
He can draw really well, and draws pictures for me (not this picture. I found this somewhere online, but it shows our personalities pretty well, I think).
He's super romantic and always remembers that I LOVE to get flowers and chocolates on Valentines Day. He got me a 3 pound box once. Oh wait, that was Christmas. But still. . . .
He says I look better without makeup.
He says that I look better now than on the day we were married (when I was still a size 5) because now I have boobs and hips.
He is a very, very good listener, and also has very, very good advise when I need it (whether I want it or not).
He's HOT!!!!
He has the most beautiful eyes, that can be blue, green, gray, or a combination, and I never know what I'm going to see when I look in them.
He gets the most ecstatic look on his face when I make some food that he really really likes (like sugared pecans).
He always offers to help cook dinner.
If he's ever gotten mad or frustrated at me, he's never shown it.
He refuses to argue with me. We disagree, but he will not argue about it.
He is the funniest person I know.
He has the most expressive face.
He talks with his whole body, sometimes, when he's really excited or happy about something.
He likes to watch cartoons with me.
He will make the best father because he is so understanding and patient, which I am not.
He is temple-worthy.
He worthily bears the priesthood, but knows that we are equals as head of the household.
He does the laundry for me, because I hate to do it.
He will help me clean the house before people come to visit.
He's HOT!!!!
He's. . . . .ummm. . . . .adventurous.
He has his priorities straight, knows what he wants out of life, and is striving for it.
He is happy with himself as he is, for the most part.
He's wicked sarcastic, and has a weird sense of humor.
He likes to make up nicknames for me.
He is willing and able to do a job that most people can't even imagine doing, everyday.
I can't threaten him with anything, because he knows that it will never happen.
He cuddles with me when I need it most.
He's smart.
I learn something new everyday about him. And from him.
He's given me reason to strive to be better than I am.
We haven't spent a night apart since we've been married, and he gets sad if he even thinks about having to do that. Even though he claims I steal the blankets.
Oh, and did I mention, HE'S HOT!!!!!!

So there you go, that's a small portion of the man I married. To know all of him, you'd have be around him more than even I have been. He's complex and deep, like one of those underground rivers. I love every piece of him, and I will forever. Happy Birthday, honey!

Why Can't It All Be Like This?

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In Response To

This post was originally a response comment to The-Western-Sister-In-Law. But it got too long, and I figured that if she was confused about my stance on health foods and natural health, so were other people. Read the post Gullible to read her comment and to understand better what I'm talking about.

The point behind this post is that I, personally, will believe just about anything put in front of my nose about natural health, even if all I read is a couple of pages and those pages don't even get into the point of the book. I am gullible when it comes to this stuff. But I am also learning, from my work and from what I'm deciding I want to believe, that moderation in all things also includes this. A lot of people who frequent my work place are very weird about their food intake. There are a few that will stand at the register and talk to the cashiers for 20 minutes or more about how their particular chosen path of natural health (there are many) is better than the rest of them and they can prove it. We (meaning me and another cashier) had one guy tell us that by eating nothing but raw food, he no longer has to shower, except when he gets itchy from all the dead skin. He doesn't stink, and he doesn't get dirty because there is no more oil on his skin to attract dirt. But he did stink (he hadn't showered in 3 weeks), and not having oil on your skin is not healthy. It's there for a reason. I have also had one wax poetic on the virtue of not eating gluten, whether you can digest it or not. And others on the sins of eating sugar in any form, including honey. You get a lot of strange people in there.
While I hope to someday eat nothing but healthy food, and be able to avoid fast food and junk food all together, I'm not expecting it to happen soon. I do believe that there is a lot of crap and chemicals in processed, fast, and junk food that can't be good for you and that is addicting, and I'm starting to see how my body reacts differently to junk food and healthy food, and it surprises me. But I like Whoppers too much to give them up entirely yet, and I hate cooking enough to not be motivated enough to spend all the time in the kitchen that eating healthier calls for. But I also believe very strongly in eating what you want, when you want. If you know that bag of Cheetos isn't going to help your body be healthy in any way (made with real cheese or not), and you still want to eat it, more power to you. Education about this stuff is key. My reason for taking a course in natural health, and my goal of becoming a Master Herbalist, is that I'm hoping that it will benefit me and my little family. I will help those who come to me, or who are open to at least listening to, if not following, what I have learned. I refuse to become one of those people who judges and looks down on people because they "just don't know any better," and forces my ideas and opinions on them unsolicited. Maybe they do, and choose to eat it anyway. I know I do. I love Cheetos. If there is a bag of them, I will eat them. So why should I ever judge those who make the same decisions?
I guess basically I'm on the fence right now. I believe a lot of the stuff I'm taught about the kind of food that is traditionally American, but I'm not ready to give it up yet. We'll see what happens, I suppose. Let's hope that I fall on the side of health, because right now, that's the side I want to be on.

Schizophrenia in Utero

It's been awhile. I have no specific thoughts, per say. My mind is in a complete muddle at the moment, and probably will be for a few more days. The Parents just left after 4 days here, and it went better than expected, and worse than expected. The Mom didn't say a word about kids or grand kids, she pretty much kept her mouth shut about our eating habits as well, and she didn't say anything about how dirty (or not) our bathrooms or kitchen were. She didn't give me any unsolicited advise, either. And it totally threw me for a loop.

I had no idea what to do, how to act. It was still tense, at least on my end, as it always is, but it was a different tense. I couldn't tell which way was up, or which direction I should be going. It was definitely strange. The Man was the one to point out to me that the tension was my fault, and man did it suck to realize that he was right. It had always been The Mom's fault before, for not respecting boundaries, but then, I never enforced them either, and invited her to violate them by telling her things, or asking questions about stuff that I really shouldn't have. It's hard to do when you really want that TV relationship with your mom, all buddy buddy and sunshine and flowers. All I want is total, unquestioned acceptance of my opinions, my values, my choices, of me. But I guess no mother does that.

Only 3 bad things happened this week: 1) She told me that The Dad told her that I weighed 150 pounds 3 years ago when he weighed me for life insurance, when in actuality I weighed 130, according to him (I don't weigh myself for various purposes), and therefore implying that I was too fat because I have gained too much weight since then (not that much, I promise!) to be buying the tights I wanted to get. 2) She questioned my testimony of my church when I told her that I don't believe that religion as we know it will exist when Christ comes back and 3) She also asked me (in not so many words) if I was materialistic because I was talking about all the different things I want to do with our house and implied that I was unhappy because of this materialism and that I was not truly following what my church teaches about materialism, and therefore have lost my testimony. I think that's what gets me the most. She knows I'm less happy than unhappy, because I have repeatedly told her this through the years, in a vain attempt to help her understand, though that is starting to change (the happiness, not her understanding abilities). She knows that I struggle with depression on a daily basis. And I've told her time and again that part of that depression is clinical, meaning that it's genetic/a chemical imbalance (I get it from The Dad's side of the family) and part of it isn't-I'm not going to get into that here. The clinical side will always rear it's ugly head when I'm stressed or upset. I just don't handle those emotions well. Well, actually, I don't handle ANY emotions well. But that's another post, for when I'm feeling depressed enough to actually dump my problems on the unsuspecting public. Well, more so than I usually do.



But they are gone now, home safe and sound. I should be happy, feel release and the ability to move on with my real life. But I can't! I feel trapped, stuck. I just want to crawl under my bed and tell the world to go away and right it's self, and then I will come out and go about my usual business. (I would probably not see the light of day until well after the Second Coming.) I can't stand it! I'm restless, inattentive, and I've got some weird feeling in the pit of my stomach that won't go away and that I can't identify. The worst part? I have to go to The Home State to see her again in August. Less than a month away. And I have to do this, I'm obligated to, because she is sad that she only got to see us for 4 days, and she is sad that The Little Brother and The Little Ex-Sister-In-Law-To-Be broke up, and she wants to gather her children around her to feel better. I'm not a mother, so I can't say that I understand this seeming desire to assure herself that she is loved at all by surrounding herself with her children that aren't doing anything that she wants them to. It's hard to be there when you feel like you have no choice in being there. I would much rather go there to support her by my own volition, and hopefully someday that will happen, but as for now, well, let's just say that it's quite comfortable under my bed, or at least it would be if The Man would just jack it up a little more so that I can roll over occasionally.