With This Ring: A Message For My Married Friends

Over the past week or so, we've been hearing a lot about the Supreme Court case regarding gay marriage.  Yesterday and today, the news and social media have been running  with the story, and FB has been ablaze with icons both in support and protest of the issue.  Folks are sometimes not on their best behavior when they feel so strongly about something, and try so passionately to convince others that they are wrong.  I find it very disturbing, and I'm spending my lunch break sharing a few thoughts I've had. 

If married couples spent nearly as much time and energy working on their own marriage as they spend either supporting or fighting against gay marriage, then maybe the divorce rate between heterosexual couples wouldn't be so high.  Gay marriage, whether you support it or do not support it, will not be the destruction of the institution of marriage.  We heterosexuals have pretty much destroyed it ourselves. If a man marrying a man, or a woman marrying a woman can destroy your own personal marriage, then I question what your marriage is based on to start with. Whatever your point of view on the issue, be sure you give at least equally, hopefully more, attention to your own relationship with your spouse.  Absolutely - Stand up and fight for what you believe. If you're against it, say so.  If you're for it, say so.  But temper your fight with remembering that no matter what a person's religious or sexual orientation, we are all human beings, and should be treated with respect.  The haters and the name-callers make me sick - and it happens in both camps. Such behavior will never be conducive to bringing the two sides together - rather it will only further widen the chasm.  So wave your flags, carry your banners, stand on your soapbox, wear your t-shirts, and spread your message.  But don't neglect dedication to your own marriage in the process.  If the institution of marriage is truly important to you, then prove it by making your own the best it can be.   

(Note- this is my personal viewpoint, and not an invitation to discuss the rightness or wrongness of the issue.  Any comments of that nature will be removed, no matter which "side" you're on.  You're welcome to your own points of view and convictions, but if it's a debate you want, then you can start your own post.  I'm not engaging in that here. [insert the image of my sweet smiling face here]   As a divorced person, I feel very strongly about protecting your own marriage first.  Now- If you want to leave comments about how to have a strong marriage, and reveal your secrets to a happy relationship, then please feel free to share!) 

On A Roll!

There are few things about which I am truly persnickety.  I’m okay with store brand items for a goodly number of things, I’m grateful for generic drugs and I love thrift-store browsing.  Some products, though, just call for the real thing, even if its store-brand counterpart is less expensive.  Loaf bread isn’t something I buy often, but when I do, it’s the dreamy, soft, stick-to-the-roof-of-my-mouth Sunbeam bread that I must have.  I will bargain shop with my peanut butter, but still it’s either Jiff or Peter Pan.  Creamy, never crunchy.  And it’s Duke’s mayonnaise, hands down.  The item about which I’m most picky, as my traveling buddies will confirm, is my bathroom tissue.  Charmin Ultra Strong.  (When traveling, I pack my own tissue - how horrible to be stranded on the side of a mountain, miles from civilization, or in a hotel room somewhere with less than acceptable quality of tissue!!!) I will travel far and wide to make sure that I always have plenty of Charmin US close at hand. (Hand?  Really?  Sometimes I crack myself up!)  

This isn’t really “company conversation”, and perhaps a bit personal to share – but you know you take a risk at content when you come to my blog to read.  But the fact of it is, folks in my family have been sick in some fashion for the past four or five weeks.  We’ve all had upper respiratory problems, gastrointestinal problems, and seemed to pretty much pass the germs back and forth for weeks.  So between a runny nose and… well… running to the bathroom, I depleted my rolls of Charmin to a precariously low number.  It got to the point one day that during a particularly active phase of my illness, I realized that the bathroom closest to me was all out of Charmin – and the other bathroom was on the other side of the house.  This presented a challenge – (I’ll let you figure it out).  Thankfully, I survived the incident without undue collateral damage – and fortunately found another roll of tissue in the third bathroom, so that both of the ones I use each had a little bit of tissue. 

We have a new store in Statham.  It’s a Dollar General Market.  For years I’ve done most of my grocery shopping at Wal Mart.  I hate grocery/household shopping.  Not so much the actual walking down the aisles and putting stuff in the buggy, I just hate driving there, getting out of my car, and going into the store.  Then it’s back to the car, loading the stuff in the car, then taking it home, unloading, and putting it away.  Ugh.   Having the DGM a few blocks away has cut my Wal Mart trips considerably, and I can usually go two to three weeks between trips.  There are two issues that I have with the DGM:  The lack of quality meat, (though I truly didn't expect much in that regard, but if they're gonna carry it, they might as well carry some good stuff) and their toilet tissue selection.  Oh, they do indeed have my Charmin Ultra Strong, it’s just those flimsy little four-packs of the loosely-rolled variety – you know what I mean.  I only pick up those little “sample packs” in cases of extreme emergency.  My favorite place to buy the tissue is Target, where I can get a 12-pack that has rolls so thick and tightly bound that there’s an actual guarantee on the package that they will fit in your tissue-holder thingy.  Now THAT’s a fat roll of tissue!!  When I’m not sick, one of those 12-packs will last a very long time, which means fewer trips in my car to park, walk in the store, load/unload, etc.  That makes me happy.  And there’s such a secure feeling, knowing that all my bathrooms are fully stocked with my favorite tissue.  Even the “company” bathroom is stocked with the good stuff. 

But I digress.  Seriously – this post didn’t start out to be a commercial for Charmin.  That story was simply to preface a post about my weekend.  I had had tissue on my shopping list for days, but somehow it seemed that every day I thought I could wait “one more day” before going to the store.  (Did I mention how much I hate that chore?)  Friday evening I realized I was down to a few squares of Charmin, and I knew the time had come to bite the bullet and go shopping.  But it seemed like a more fun option to spend some time with Leyland and LillyAnn while Corey had his first T-ball practice, so we had some quality girl-time at the local McDonald’s.  By the time I took them home, I was pretty tired, and decided to wait until Saturday.  Morning came quickly, and I hit the floor running.  There was a couple hours of work to do, then set up for the egg hunt at church.  (My very first-ever indoor Easter egg hunt – thanks to the torrential rain.)  Around 1:00 we were all finished with the fun and cleanup, so the time had come to run the dreaded errands and buy the stupid tissue paper.  There were a few more things I needed to get for Lucy’s birthday party on Sunday, as well as some bulk-shopping at Sam’s Club, and a little Easter shopping for the grandkids.  Hours and hours later, I drag myself home, unload the groceries, put away the cold things, and head back out the door to DJs for some dinner.  BJ was there, and it was a quiet, restful evening.  Whitney had called earlier, and said Leyland was sleeping over at LillyAnn’s, Mary was at her mom’s, and Corey wanted to have a sleepover with Greemaw.  I picked him up around 8, got him bathed and smelling sweet, and settled in on the sofa bed watching Fireman Sam.  By the time I got bathed and smelling sweet my ownself, he was pretty much done for, and down for the night.  How I love that little man!!!   Early mornings are always so sweet when he crawls in bed with me for snuggle and tickle time. He looked so handsome for church!  He’s all into “looking good”, and wants to “dress” when he goes out.  I got him some new shoes on Saturday, and he was so proud of them.  He’ll want to wear them 24/7 (really!) so I hope they will survive at least a week, so they’ll look nice for Easter.  He was a very good boy at church, in somewhat of a shy mode, so I was surprised that he willingly went to Children’s Church without even looking back over his shoulder at me. 

Sunday afternoon was time to celebrate Lucy’s birthday!  She’s the most precious little girl, with such a beautiful smile and sweet personality.  She was pretty much wide open, and seemed to have had a grand time.  It was great seeing Michael, Linda, Ryan and Lucy, in addition to her guests.  What a fun afternoon!! 

Back home to work a while, a quick trip up the street for a bite of dinner with DJ and David, back home to finish work in time to catch the latest new episode of Revenge.  I had to stop and catch my breath for just a bit before getting ready for bed.  

              

Seems like I had just closed my eyes, and it was time to get up and start all over with a new week.  I never believed the old folks when they said  that time passes more quickly the older you get.  I absolutely believe it now.  Seems like every day is warp speed.  That’s great during the week – Friday really does come around fairly quickly – but it’s not so great on the weekends.  Monday gets here waaaaaay too fast!!!

It’s a good thing it was a busy weekend.  Yesterday was the anniversary of a very unpleasant event that set the stage for the ultimate demise of my marriage, and I really didn’t want to spend any time at all on that memory.  There are only a couple more “anniversaries” to endure, then all those “firsts” will be behind me. One of my favorite parts of the day was reminding myself, and sharing with some friends, that I have indeed survived. God has brought me through, and has held me steady and strong through the prayers and support of some very special people. 

My very FAVORITE part of the day was the sweet high-five from my brother, when I shared the significance of the day, and that I have not only survived it, but put it behind me. No words needed.  It’s funny how something so seemingly insignificant could mean so much.  Best Brother Ever.

So there you have it.  I was really ON A ROLL this weekend!  And happy to say that I'm starting the new week off with twelve brand-new rolls of Charmin Ultra Strong.  Hopefully all the germs are gone, and these will last for a while.  

Kiss Me, I'm Irish!

Kiss Me, I’m Irish!

I’ve known of my Irish roots since childhood, but never quite understood the meaning of that phrase.  It never stopped me from wearing a pin on St. Patrick’s Day that said “Kiss Me, I’m Irish”.  (And I must add, I did get a few takers over the years.. haha..) I still have several of those pins, but have chosen not to wear them as I’ve gotten older.  At my age, I’m not sure I’d be a willing participant to anyone who’d be might be willing to pucker up.

I Googled the meaning, and here’s what I learned.  It has to do with kissing the Blarney stone, which is thought to bring good luck.  You’ve heard of the “luck of the Irish”, the “lucky leprechauns”, the “pot of gold at the end of the rainbow” …  so for whatever reason, good luck is associated with Irish things.  Most people never see the blarney stone, much less get to kiss it, nor do we find little green men hiding in the woods around these parts.  So, legend has it, kissing anything remotely Irish is about the best we can do.  Therefore, kissing someone of Irish descent is as good as it gets on this side of the pond.  Therefore, I suppose on St. Patrick’s Day, anyone who wants a kiss (or a reason to party!) can claim to be Irish for a day in hopes that someone will kiss them for good luck. 

My Irish roots actually did spring forth from the motherland of lush green grass and rainy afternoons.   I believe the name of my ancestor who came to America from Ireland was William Strawier Dunahoo.  (My cousin Becky has the genealogy, and can confirm the correct name).  With the potato famine in Ireland in full swing, there was no work to be had, and he was near destitute.  He had no money in his pocket, but he had a dream in his heart.  A dream to come to America to make a new life for himself.  No money meant no ticket for passage, however, he somehow managed to sneak on board an American-bound vessel, and hid within the bowels of the ship for the entire trip.  After he arrived, he worked in a variety of occupations, and over the years, a branch of the Dunahoo family tree was rooted in Statham, where it grew and prospered, and produced several generations of Dunahoos, of which I am a “lucky” member.  It's a very interesting story, and I love to hear Becky tell it when we have family gatherings. 

I'm not a believer in "luck" so much, but it is kinda neat to be able to know the heritage of my mom's family.  Of course, there are three other branches (grandparents) in my family tree; one other of those is thought to be Irish, one German, and I'm not sure about the other.  There's a lot of DNA and math involved, but I'm going to claim to be of half-Irish descent.  If non-Irish folks can claim to be Irish one day of the year, then I should be able to stake a claim to being half-Irish every day.  Right?

Maybe I'll wear my pin today after all!