By Charmin Foth
For those of you who know me, housewifery is not my strong suit.
Don't get me wrong, I can clean and do laundry with the best of them, but when it comes to all things kitchen, it's scary. I'm not saying I can't cook. I can, and generally the things I make are edible, even tasty. I would say I'm better at baking, but that's not entirely true either. And sharp objects, don't even get me started. They banned me from the kitchen of the church where I used to attend, because of a little accident cutting apples at a church sleepover. Let's just say, life with me is never boring.
The church where we attend was having a church picnic and someone suggested that I make deviled eggs. Since we have chickens and usually an abundance of eggs, I thought, "cool, I can do that, no problem." Ha, I should have known better.
My wonderful hubby, helped me out by boiling the eggs and putting them in the fridge for me. That way I could make the deviled eggs at my convenience after I got home from work. (I really think he is afraid for me to use the stove.)
Well, after a day of crazy work and errands, I open the door and see the pesky boiled eggs staring at me when I open the refrigerator door. So I sigh, and set myself about the task of making deviled eggs. I get all my ingredients out, a mixing bowl, a big wooden spoon and then I spy a long forgotten gadget hiding in the drawer with the mixer, my cookie gun. Yes, I said, cookie gun.
I thought, "Oh! That will make fancy work of these eggs, I'll be done in no time." Ha, again.
I prep the eggs, mix all the ingredients and I'm ready to fill the cookie gun with the yummy egg filling. There are several different options for how I want the mix to fill the eggs. there is an attachment for making Christmas tree cookies, stars and all sorts of cookie shapes and then there are attachments for cake decorating, like rose petals and ribbons and such. So I thought, "Hmmm, egg filling is kind of thick so lets go with the one that has a wide star shaped opening."
Sounds easy enough, so I set it up, and load the egg filling into the gun. Here's where it gets interesting...
The first few eggs looked beautiful, and then nothing so I keep pressing the trigger on the gun. Rapid fire, is never a good idea.
Before I knew it, so much pressure had built up in the cookie gun, that it exploded deviled egg filling across the kitchen counter top and it ricocheted all over me. I was covered in deviled eggs. I looked like I had been spackling a very colored ugly room.
Not all of the egg concoction fit into the gun, I still had enough to fill the eggs I had, so I thought, "all is not lost, I can still make this work." So I wiped the egg off the counter and me. For some reason, I still thought the cookie gun was a good idea. All I can say, looking back, is duh. Anyway, I changed the decorating tip on the cookie gun to different tip, thinking the star pattern was the problem.
It wasn't. The problem is that pickle relish gets stuck in the little prongs of the decorating tips and causes a huge back up in the gun. And it has serious repercussions to the one wielding the weapon. I don't know if I will ever get all the egg out of my spiky hair. It is now brown, silver and yolk colored.
Ah, but alas, I am not one to give up. I must have a persistence gene that just won't allow me to give up on things. I think it has plagued me all of my life, now that I think about it. At any rate, I still had egg goo left and I was determined I was going to get the gun to work or die trying.
I did get the gun to work. I took the decorator tip off all together and it worked like a charm, and I had just enough egg filling left to fill all the eggs. However, there was a drawback to this methodology, without the pretty decorator edges, my eggs looked like little yellow piles of dog poop. Yumm! How appetizing is that?!
So I'm home all alone, looking at these eggs, and laughing my butt off. I have truly lost it. I can't serve dog poop eggs to the people at church, or can I? Hummmm. So I got a little spoon and smashed all the little piles down and swirled them around and covered them with paprika. Maybe, maybe not, I can't decide, take them don't take them? I'm the only one who knows they looked like dog poop for a short time in their lives. Andy may get to eat a lot of deviled eggs, and then he's going to have to sleep in the barn.
The moral of the story is, use a spoon, unless you are authorized to use the gun.
Thanks for reading.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Sunday, April 3, 2011
This Roller Coaster Life...
Well, I must apologize for being slack in my blogging for the past few months. The only excuse I can give is life. It seems that lately I have had an over abundance of life coming at me from all directions. I know I am not the only person in the world that feels this way. But sometimes don't you just want to scream, "hey, slow this planet down, I want to get off now." As if life were a ride at an amusement park, and you had too much funnel cake for your own good.
This week life has been just like that. A roller coaster of ups and downs so severe they take your breath away and knock you back in your seat. My work life is always hectic, but when our office manager quit, work became more intense. Don't get me wrong, I love my job, I am a public relations and marketing manager for a manufacturer of specialized therapy equipment for people with mobility issues. It is an amazing piece of technology called the Quadriciser Motorized Therapy System. My job is multi-faceted, I get to travel and meet some truly amazing people in my work, I get the opportunity to be creative and steer our marketing into the 21st century, but when you work for a small company, you wear many hats and sometimes it can be overwhelming.
If work were the only part of my struggle, there would be some stress but I could deal with it. I was a military wife for years, and as long as no one is shooting at my husband, I've always felt I could roll with just about anything. So work stress would be the kiddie version of the roller coaster. It looks intimidating when you 5, not when your 8. Do you know what I mean?
But then, you add the stress of an aging mother, (who I love greatly, but is as stubborn as the day is long, and no matter how you explain it, she still won't take the medication she is suppose to, like it's prescribed), the stress of your own health scare and a need to get healthy before things get out of control, the stress of a leaky roof, (that will have to be completely replaced), a lawn mower that decided it wanted to be separated from its gas tank, so it just fell apart, (and we really need a tractor to cut the grass on a farm not a mower) and as of tonight, a refrigerator that just went kaput, all those things in very close proximity to each other, and none of the money to do anything about any of it...well that has put me on the Big Daddy of Roller Coasters this week. All those downs make me want to get off this ride and run screaming from the park. Not to mention, they are exhausting. I need a nap just writing about it.
However, without the downs of my roller coaster ride, I could never truly appreciate the ups of my roller coaster ride. The ups are like soaring on eagle's wings. Without the troubles, I would never appreciate the positive aspects of my life. I have a Father who loves me regardless of troubles and in spite of all I have done wrong in this world, I have a husband who is my best friend who cares what I think and appreciates me for who I am and loves me even when I am rotten, I have a mother who I get the privilege of embracing as she imparts her wisdom and love on me and I cherish these times because I know she won't be here forever, I have a church family and friends who will pray with me when I'm scared, confused and when I cry out to God for guidance or grace, I have a good job and boss who appreciates the work I do, I have a home with a warm bed and food to eat. Wow, not a bad life. How many people have less than that at this very moment?
Without the perspective the of the Ups, the Downs look devastating with no end in site. We can't always be on the Up, but we can know that when the Downs happen, an Up can't be far behind. I hope my trials and tribulations this week can encourage you to know you are not alone in your daily struggles. We all are on this ride together. Some days its the kiddie roller coaster and others its the Big Daddy roller coaster. Whichever it is, appreciate it, throw your hands up and laugh, this ride goes by to fast.
Thanks for reading. HUGS!
This week life has been just like that. A roller coaster of ups and downs so severe they take your breath away and knock you back in your seat. My work life is always hectic, but when our office manager quit, work became more intense. Don't get me wrong, I love my job, I am a public relations and marketing manager for a manufacturer of specialized therapy equipment for people with mobility issues. It is an amazing piece of technology called the Quadriciser Motorized Therapy System. My job is multi-faceted, I get to travel and meet some truly amazing people in my work, I get the opportunity to be creative and steer our marketing into the 21st century, but when you work for a small company, you wear many hats and sometimes it can be overwhelming.
If work were the only part of my struggle, there would be some stress but I could deal with it. I was a military wife for years, and as long as no one is shooting at my husband, I've always felt I could roll with just about anything. So work stress would be the kiddie version of the roller coaster. It looks intimidating when you 5, not when your 8. Do you know what I mean?
But then, you add the stress of an aging mother, (who I love greatly, but is as stubborn as the day is long, and no matter how you explain it, she still won't take the medication she is suppose to, like it's prescribed), the stress of your own health scare and a need to get healthy before things get out of control, the stress of a leaky roof, (that will have to be completely replaced), a lawn mower that decided it wanted to be separated from its gas tank, so it just fell apart, (and we really need a tractor to cut the grass on a farm not a mower) and as of tonight, a refrigerator that just went kaput, all those things in very close proximity to each other, and none of the money to do anything about any of it...well that has put me on the Big Daddy of Roller Coasters this week. All those downs make me want to get off this ride and run screaming from the park. Not to mention, they are exhausting. I need a nap just writing about it.
However, without the downs of my roller coaster ride, I could never truly appreciate the ups of my roller coaster ride. The ups are like soaring on eagle's wings. Without the troubles, I would never appreciate the positive aspects of my life. I have a Father who loves me regardless of troubles and in spite of all I have done wrong in this world, I have a husband who is my best friend who cares what I think and appreciates me for who I am and loves me even when I am rotten, I have a mother who I get the privilege of embracing as she imparts her wisdom and love on me and I cherish these times because I know she won't be here forever, I have a church family and friends who will pray with me when I'm scared, confused and when I cry out to God for guidance or grace, I have a good job and boss who appreciates the work I do, I have a home with a warm bed and food to eat. Wow, not a bad life. How many people have less than that at this very moment?
Without the perspective the of the Ups, the Downs look devastating with no end in site. We can't always be on the Up, but we can know that when the Downs happen, an Up can't be far behind. I hope my trials and tribulations this week can encourage you to know you are not alone in your daily struggles. We all are on this ride together. Some days its the kiddie roller coaster and others its the Big Daddy roller coaster. Whichever it is, appreciate it, throw your hands up and laugh, this ride goes by to fast.
Thanks for reading. HUGS!
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Celebrate when you can...
By Charmin Foth
With Valentine's Day almost upon us, I am reminded of my first Valentine's Day married to Andy.
When we met and for 8 years after Andy was a seargent in the U.S. Army. Being an Army wife wasn't always easy and sometimes it was downright hard. But the struggles we faced together made us stronger as individuals and as a couple.
Most couples find that the first year of marriage is always hard because you are getting used to one another's habits and traits. Sometimes finding common ground can seem almost impossible. That wasn't the case for us. We seemed to have that part down, we have always been able to finish each other's sentences, sometimes to the point that we read each other's thoughts and say what the other is thinking.
But, the first year Andy and I were married was still a difficult one. We were married the last day of May and in September he was sent to school for training and we were separated for a year almost to the day.
Our first Valentine's Day didn't happen on February 14th. On February 14th I was alone, working 14 hour days and I knew Andy wasn't going to get to come home during that time. We didn't have any money, so I couldn't afford to send him something expensive to let him know I was thinking of him. So, I did something a little unconventional and something I do well, I wrote him notes.
I took one of those little "while you were out" pink message pads that offices sometimes use, and for every day he was gone, I wrote a note. "While you were out... Today the dog got out and I had to chase him down the street, I wish you were here to see it." "While you were out... Today was Saturday and I had to watch cartoons without you." "While you were out... I missed you really bad today."
You get the picture. Every day I wrote one of these notes. Some days that was my only way of communicating with him and he didn't even know it. Somedays were funny, some days were mushy, some days were sad. It was just a little glimpse at how my life was going that day, set aside just for him. We had a set of French doors at the back of the house and each day taped one of those notes on the door unitl I had one big heart outlined on the door. But Andy still didn't get to come home, so I kept adding notes every day, with just little bits of how I felt while he was away. I filled in the heart with at least 100 notes.
When he finally did get to come home for a visit, he pulled into the drive and made his way in through the French doors, where all he could see from the light burning inside the house was a hundred little pink "while you were out" notes. It was one of the best Valentine's day we ever had, and it wasn't any where near Feburary 14th and it didn't cost us hundreds of dollars. I can still remember him pulling each note off the door, reading them, laughing and his eyes tearing up as he made his way through each note. He read them all and he knew I had thought of him, every single day, even when we couldn't talk. He knew he was loved and I loved him all the more for taking the time to appreciate the small stuff.
That year I learned the hard way that the Army way of life meant celebrating when you can, not by the date on the calendar. It taught me that sometimes you can be separated for what seems like an eternity, but that doesn't mean you love each other any less. And, that if you can survive the heartache of being alone, you can celebrate the joy of being together, and it makes the moments you have together that much more special. Sometimes you don't get to hear the words "I love you," when you would like, but you keep the faith that the love is still there.
Learning these lessons made my life as an Army wife easier, they made my life better. They weren't easy lessons to learn but I thank God every day that I was able to take those lessons to heart.
So, remember to celebrate the moments of life together, when you can, not based on the calendar. It's not about the quantity of time you have together or about the quality of the gifts you receive, it's about the quality of time you have together, the meaning of the gifts you give and the depth of the love you share.
Happy Valentine's Day.
Thanks for reading.
With Valentine's Day almost upon us, I am reminded of my first Valentine's Day married to Andy.
When we met and for 8 years after Andy was a seargent in the U.S. Army. Being an Army wife wasn't always easy and sometimes it was downright hard. But the struggles we faced together made us stronger as individuals and as a couple.
Most couples find that the first year of marriage is always hard because you are getting used to one another's habits and traits. Sometimes finding common ground can seem almost impossible. That wasn't the case for us. We seemed to have that part down, we have always been able to finish each other's sentences, sometimes to the point that we read each other's thoughts and say what the other is thinking.
But, the first year Andy and I were married was still a difficult one. We were married the last day of May and in September he was sent to school for training and we were separated for a year almost to the day.
Our first Valentine's Day didn't happen on February 14th. On February 14th I was alone, working 14 hour days and I knew Andy wasn't going to get to come home during that time. We didn't have any money, so I couldn't afford to send him something expensive to let him know I was thinking of him. So, I did something a little unconventional and something I do well, I wrote him notes.
I took one of those little "while you were out" pink message pads that offices sometimes use, and for every day he was gone, I wrote a note. "While you were out... Today the dog got out and I had to chase him down the street, I wish you were here to see it." "While you were out... Today was Saturday and I had to watch cartoons without you." "While you were out... I missed you really bad today."
You get the picture. Every day I wrote one of these notes. Some days that was my only way of communicating with him and he didn't even know it. Somedays were funny, some days were mushy, some days were sad. It was just a little glimpse at how my life was going that day, set aside just for him. We had a set of French doors at the back of the house and each day taped one of those notes on the door unitl I had one big heart outlined on the door. But Andy still didn't get to come home, so I kept adding notes every day, with just little bits of how I felt while he was away. I filled in the heart with at least 100 notes.
When he finally did get to come home for a visit, he pulled into the drive and made his way in through the French doors, where all he could see from the light burning inside the house was a hundred little pink "while you were out" notes. It was one of the best Valentine's day we ever had, and it wasn't any where near Feburary 14th and it didn't cost us hundreds of dollars. I can still remember him pulling each note off the door, reading them, laughing and his eyes tearing up as he made his way through each note. He read them all and he knew I had thought of him, every single day, even when we couldn't talk. He knew he was loved and I loved him all the more for taking the time to appreciate the small stuff.
That year I learned the hard way that the Army way of life meant celebrating when you can, not by the date on the calendar. It taught me that sometimes you can be separated for what seems like an eternity, but that doesn't mean you love each other any less. And, that if you can survive the heartache of being alone, you can celebrate the joy of being together, and it makes the moments you have together that much more special. Sometimes you don't get to hear the words "I love you," when you would like, but you keep the faith that the love is still there.
Learning these lessons made my life as an Army wife easier, they made my life better. They weren't easy lessons to learn but I thank God every day that I was able to take those lessons to heart.
So, remember to celebrate the moments of life together, when you can, not based on the calendar. It's not about the quantity of time you have together or about the quality of the gifts you receive, it's about the quality of time you have together, the meaning of the gifts you give and the depth of the love you share.
Happy Valentine's Day.
Thanks for reading.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Green Teeth
By Charmin Foth
It is almost Valentine's and everyone's thoughts turn to love. I met Andy, my hubby, 17 years ago on December 9th. At the time I didn't want a relationship. I didn't want to date, I was pretty much over romance all together. I had been in an abusive marriage for seven years and couldn't believe the person I had become in that time.
I had lost my self esteem and my sense of who I was or what I wanted out of life. I was burned out and struggling with my faith and feeling like a failure. Years of being treated badly had led me to believe I deserved such treatment. I was just beginning to figure myself out again, thanks to the help of some great girlfriends who dragged me out of the house and into the world again. They took me to line dancing classes at the local skating rink and concerts, keeping me from drowning in self pity.
On December 9th, my friend Beth, did exactly that, she drug me out of the house. Living in Nashville at the time, there was always an opportunity for musical entertainment. On that night David Lee Murphy was playing at the Wild Horse Saloon, one of Nashville's hot, touristy spots on 2nd Avenue, and Beth suggested we go and try out our new line dancing skills. So, rather than sitting at home on a Friday night eating fish sticks and tater tots, I agreed.
When we got there, we found a table and ordered diet Cokes. Not my usual fare, I'm more a Mountain Dew connoisseur, and I know you thought I was going to say something else, but I am truly a wild woman hanging out at a saloon drinking diet Coke. Beth and I had fun people watching and dancing. The wonderful thing about line dancing is it doesn't require you to have a date, and no one has to be in your personal space. Both of which appealed to me at the time. I had a strict rule, I never slow danced with anyone. That was way too close for me.
While Beth and I were there I had noticed a cowboy in a fringed jacket, Resistol cowboy hat pulled low over his eyes, jeans and boots leaning up against the wall. He was cute, in that lone wolf kind of way. The place was packed with people and we were lucky to have a table with a pretty good view of everything. They were having a beauty contest before the concert so the dances were spread out between the contest events. The place was crawling with very pretty girls and all types of guys, trying to get their attention.
When the guys couldn't get the time of day from the pretty girls, they would begin to look around and ask the rest of us to dance. I wasn't particularly looking for a dance partner, but this young man came up to me and asked me to dance. Since it was a "Boot Scoot Boogie" it wasn't as if I had to get too close to the guy, so I said, "yes." It wasn't until he got on the dance floor, and started smiling at me, that I realized he had horrible green teeth. When he got close enough to where I could actually hear what he was trying to say, I realized he had horrible green breath to go along with it. This is exactly the reason I was against dating. UGGH!
Beth and I laughed over the green teeth once I got back to the table, and I was still keeping an eye on the cowboy holding up the wall across the way. Beth and I may have made a few comments amongst ourselves about him too.
The beauty contest continued for a little while and then they played a slow love song. Beth and I were talking and minding our own business, when I looked up and saw "green teeth" headed straight for our table. The cowboy holding up the wall must have seen the look of sheer terror come across my face, because just before "green teeth" stepped up to ask me to dance, the cowboy stepped in front of "green teeth" and asked me to dance. In that moment the cowboy rescued me from certain awkwardness, and left "green teeth" standing there looking dazed and confused.
Much to my surprise, I said yes to the cowboy. "Green teeth" did not look happy, but I was so relieved that the cowboy was taking me in the opposite direction, I didn't care. It wasn't until I was on the dance floor that I realized I had broken my own rule. Here I was dancing close to a tall cowboy with a buzz cut, ooohh, this could be trouble.
Not wanting to waste time I figured I'd find out exactly what was wrong with this guy and then get back to the table and enjoy the rest of my evening. We exchanged names, I told him I didn't usually slow dance and apologized if I stepped on his feet. He told me if a horse could step on his feet, then me stepping on his feet wasn't anything to worry about. I found out he was a soldier at Fort Campbell. I also found out he was recently out of a bad marriage too.
I asked him at least twenty questions during the dance. I was determined I was not going to repeat the bad relationships of my past. So I had this checklist in my head and on the first wrong answer, this guy was going to be history. The only problem was, he was getting all the answers right, and from the way he answered, he seemed to be pretty honest. That was different.
I asked him if he did drugs? No. Did he drink a lot? Mountain Dew (at the time that was all I drank). Those were the big deal breakers, because I had been around those guys, and wasn't going down that road again. I asked him if he knew how to read, what was the name of the last book he read. You name it, I was straightforward, to the point and a little obnoxious. I was sure I had put this guy off.
When the song ended, he followed me back to my table. He made me laugh and spent the rest of the evening at the table with Beth and I. He ordered a coke (they didn't serve Mountain Dew) and we talked until they closed, and he still got all the answers right. I was amazed. As he walked me to my car, he asked me out for the next night. The rest is history.
I have been with that cowboy for 17 years and I love him more every passing year. Amazingly, I owe it all to a guy with green teeth.
Isn't it amazing how God works in ways we could never imagine.
Thanks for reading.
It is almost Valentine's and everyone's thoughts turn to love. I met Andy, my hubby, 17 years ago on December 9th. At the time I didn't want a relationship. I didn't want to date, I was pretty much over romance all together. I had been in an abusive marriage for seven years and couldn't believe the person I had become in that time.
I had lost my self esteem and my sense of who I was or what I wanted out of life. I was burned out and struggling with my faith and feeling like a failure. Years of being treated badly had led me to believe I deserved such treatment. I was just beginning to figure myself out again, thanks to the help of some great girlfriends who dragged me out of the house and into the world again. They took me to line dancing classes at the local skating rink and concerts, keeping me from drowning in self pity.
On December 9th, my friend Beth, did exactly that, she drug me out of the house. Living in Nashville at the time, there was always an opportunity for musical entertainment. On that night David Lee Murphy was playing at the Wild Horse Saloon, one of Nashville's hot, touristy spots on 2nd Avenue, and Beth suggested we go and try out our new line dancing skills. So, rather than sitting at home on a Friday night eating fish sticks and tater tots, I agreed.
When we got there, we found a table and ordered diet Cokes. Not my usual fare, I'm more a Mountain Dew connoisseur, and I know you thought I was going to say something else, but I am truly a wild woman hanging out at a saloon drinking diet Coke. Beth and I had fun people watching and dancing. The wonderful thing about line dancing is it doesn't require you to have a date, and no one has to be in your personal space. Both of which appealed to me at the time. I had a strict rule, I never slow danced with anyone. That was way too close for me.
While Beth and I were there I had noticed a cowboy in a fringed jacket, Resistol cowboy hat pulled low over his eyes, jeans and boots leaning up against the wall. He was cute, in that lone wolf kind of way. The place was packed with people and we were lucky to have a table with a pretty good view of everything. They were having a beauty contest before the concert so the dances were spread out between the contest events. The place was crawling with very pretty girls and all types of guys, trying to get their attention.
When the guys couldn't get the time of day from the pretty girls, they would begin to look around and ask the rest of us to dance. I wasn't particularly looking for a dance partner, but this young man came up to me and asked me to dance. Since it was a "Boot Scoot Boogie" it wasn't as if I had to get too close to the guy, so I said, "yes." It wasn't until he got on the dance floor, and started smiling at me, that I realized he had horrible green teeth. When he got close enough to where I could actually hear what he was trying to say, I realized he had horrible green breath to go along with it. This is exactly the reason I was against dating. UGGH!
Beth and I laughed over the green teeth once I got back to the table, and I was still keeping an eye on the cowboy holding up the wall across the way. Beth and I may have made a few comments amongst ourselves about him too.
The beauty contest continued for a little while and then they played a slow love song. Beth and I were talking and minding our own business, when I looked up and saw "green teeth" headed straight for our table. The cowboy holding up the wall must have seen the look of sheer terror come across my face, because just before "green teeth" stepped up to ask me to dance, the cowboy stepped in front of "green teeth" and asked me to dance. In that moment the cowboy rescued me from certain awkwardness, and left "green teeth" standing there looking dazed and confused.
Much to my surprise, I said yes to the cowboy. "Green teeth" did not look happy, but I was so relieved that the cowboy was taking me in the opposite direction, I didn't care. It wasn't until I was on the dance floor that I realized I had broken my own rule. Here I was dancing close to a tall cowboy with a buzz cut, ooohh, this could be trouble.
Not wanting to waste time I figured I'd find out exactly what was wrong with this guy and then get back to the table and enjoy the rest of my evening. We exchanged names, I told him I didn't usually slow dance and apologized if I stepped on his feet. He told me if a horse could step on his feet, then me stepping on his feet wasn't anything to worry about. I found out he was a soldier at Fort Campbell. I also found out he was recently out of a bad marriage too.
I asked him at least twenty questions during the dance. I was determined I was not going to repeat the bad relationships of my past. So I had this checklist in my head and on the first wrong answer, this guy was going to be history. The only problem was, he was getting all the answers right, and from the way he answered, he seemed to be pretty honest. That was different.
I asked him if he did drugs? No. Did he drink a lot? Mountain Dew (at the time that was all I drank). Those were the big deal breakers, because I had been around those guys, and wasn't going down that road again. I asked him if he knew how to read, what was the name of the last book he read. You name it, I was straightforward, to the point and a little obnoxious. I was sure I had put this guy off.
When the song ended, he followed me back to my table. He made me laugh and spent the rest of the evening at the table with Beth and I. He ordered a coke (they didn't serve Mountain Dew) and we talked until they closed, and he still got all the answers right. I was amazed. As he walked me to my car, he asked me out for the next night. The rest is history.
I have been with that cowboy for 17 years and I love him more every passing year. Amazingly, I owe it all to a guy with green teeth.
Isn't it amazing how God works in ways we could never imagine.
Thanks for reading.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Are you a toon?
By Charmin Foth
I love cartoons and puppets. I always have. Maybe it comes from my love art, drawing and doodling or from growing up on Sesame Street, but cartoons and puppets have always been able make me smile. On a dreary day or when I'm in a bad mood nothing can lift my spirits and bring me out of the dark places like an episode of the Muppets, Pinky and the Brain, Animaniacs or just good ole' Looney Tunes!
I have always been a bit of a toon myself. Over the years many of my friends have said so. Andy, my hubby, agrees with the statement too, he even thinks I'm part Muppet. He says he can tell when I'm really mad, because I get "Muppet lips." Except for Janice on the Muppets, they don't have lips. So I guess that means my lips disappear. He knows I can't stay mad when he tells me I have "Muppet lips." I can't seem to keep myself from laughing when he says it.
I am blessed that I have a husband that loves cartoons as much as I do. There have been many times when Andy and I were the only adults in the theater without children with us. We even had one little boy, barely able to see over the seat, turn around and say, "Where are your kids? What are you doing here?" He just couldn't wrap his little mind around the fact that we were there to see the movie with just as much excitement as he had. When asked what the last movie we saw together was, we received a strange look when Andy and I both said in stereo, "Despicable Me."
It wasn't until we moved with the Army to Germany in the late 90s that I realized I wasn't the only toon in the family. Most people don't see it, but my husband is quite the toon himself. If you have never met my husband, here is the visual... Andy is 6 feet tall and weighs about a buck forty-five soaking wet. He is lean and mean and still wears the same clothes he had in high school. He still wears his hair Army short. He never wears anything but cowboy boots and jeans. His idea of dressing up is a big silver belt buckle and a western shirt to go along with the boots and jeans. He tops it all off with a straw cowboy hat. I fell in love with that cowboy.
Can you see where I'm going with this? One afternoon we made our way across post housing in Bad Kreuznach, Germany were we lived at the time, to barbecue with friends. As we walked closer to playground where the barbecue area was, our friends 4-year-old son yells across the play ground in a crystal clear voice, "Woody!" At that time "Toy Story" was the latest Disney movie and 4-year-old Shane, thought Andy was the cartoon character come to life. Well, from that moment on every kid in the neighborhood and most of the adults called him "Woody." Sometimes, I still do. I even have a little Woody figurine that sits on my computer desk at home to remind me of the toon that I love the most.
Shane is all grown now, and probably doesn't even remember "Woody" but we will never forget that adorable little 4-year-old and the cartoon legacy he left with Andy.
Are you a toon, maybe you just need to let your inner toon free. Trust me, it will make you smile, even if you don't want to.
:)
Thanks for reading.
I love cartoons and puppets. I always have. Maybe it comes from my love art, drawing and doodling or from growing up on Sesame Street, but cartoons and puppets have always been able make me smile. On a dreary day or when I'm in a bad mood nothing can lift my spirits and bring me out of the dark places like an episode of the Muppets, Pinky and the Brain, Animaniacs or just good ole' Looney Tunes!
I have always been a bit of a toon myself. Over the years many of my friends have said so. Andy, my hubby, agrees with the statement too, he even thinks I'm part Muppet. He says he can tell when I'm really mad, because I get "Muppet lips." Except for Janice on the Muppets, they don't have lips. So I guess that means my lips disappear. He knows I can't stay mad when he tells me I have "Muppet lips." I can't seem to keep myself from laughing when he says it.
I am blessed that I have a husband that loves cartoons as much as I do. There have been many times when Andy and I were the only adults in the theater without children with us. We even had one little boy, barely able to see over the seat, turn around and say, "Where are your kids? What are you doing here?" He just couldn't wrap his little mind around the fact that we were there to see the movie with just as much excitement as he had. When asked what the last movie we saw together was, we received a strange look when Andy and I both said in stereo, "Despicable Me."
It wasn't until we moved with the Army to Germany in the late 90s that I realized I wasn't the only toon in the family. Most people don't see it, but my husband is quite the toon himself. If you have never met my husband, here is the visual... Andy is 6 feet tall and weighs about a buck forty-five soaking wet. He is lean and mean and still wears the same clothes he had in high school. He still wears his hair Army short. He never wears anything but cowboy boots and jeans. His idea of dressing up is a big silver belt buckle and a western shirt to go along with the boots and jeans. He tops it all off with a straw cowboy hat. I fell in love with that cowboy.
Can you see where I'm going with this? One afternoon we made our way across post housing in Bad Kreuznach, Germany were we lived at the time, to barbecue with friends. As we walked closer to playground where the barbecue area was, our friends 4-year-old son yells across the play ground in a crystal clear voice, "Woody!" At that time "Toy Story" was the latest Disney movie and 4-year-old Shane, thought Andy was the cartoon character come to life. Well, from that moment on every kid in the neighborhood and most of the adults called him "Woody." Sometimes, I still do. I even have a little Woody figurine that sits on my computer desk at home to remind me of the toon that I love the most.
Shane is all grown now, and probably doesn't even remember "Woody" but we will never forget that adorable little 4-year-old and the cartoon legacy he left with Andy.
Are you a toon, maybe you just need to let your inner toon free. Trust me, it will make you smile, even if you don't want to.
:)
Thanks for reading.
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