Happy Anniversary To Us — 22!

We celebrated our 22nd wedding anniversary on Thanksgiving weekend!

The previous weekend, we had been at Superman’s brother’s house, and he gave me some pictures from our wedding day that I think my aunt took.

I hadn’t seen these pictures in a long time.

They made me smile:


Happy Anniversary, Superman! May we have many, many more moments that make us smile. …


Pioneer Woman Recipes!

So Superman’s been making Pioneer Woman recipes!

I’m a huge fan of The Pioneer Woman, and all her recipes look so delicious. I send them to him by email sometimes and say “Let’s try this one!” so he finally jumped on it last week and started one.

He started with her Flatbread Mexican Pizzas, even rolling out dough with a rolling pin and flour, which I’m pretty sure Superman has never done before in his life:

Then there was the chopping of the onions and cilantro, which he does all the time:

But I noticed something different about men cooking in the kitchen. For one, the TV is always on, and it looks like this: 

Yep, that’s right. NFL football in the background the whole time. … I don’t think I’ve ever put NFL football on in the kitchen in my life.

The other thing is that men look much better in their blue jeans in the kitchen:

 Ahem. …

So anyway, I set the table. I like using my favorite accessories, like wine:

 A few aromatic minutes later, here was the finished product:

He scooped each one off the baking stone and we put our own lettuce, tomato, cilantro, and onions on at the table. I took the above picture right off the baking stone — it’s the last little Mexican flatbread pizza left, because all the others were already being devoured by the family, and my kids were saying “hurry up and come eat!” So I put my camera down and went and joined them. …

Next up? Pioneer Woman’s Beef with Snow Pea Stir Fry. …

Great Gift for Harley Riders: A Motorcycle Bell

Some call it a “gremlin bell,” “motorcycle bell” or “guardian bell,” but regardless of what you call them, these little metal bells that attach to the body of your motorcycle serve the same purpose: They’re supposed to keep your motorcycle rider safe anytime he’s on the road.

They derive from a legend — that of “Evil Road Spirits” that rise from the bumpy pavement and latch themselves to motorcycles, causing all kinds of mischief and mechanical problems. The legend goes on to say that by dangling a small bell from the bike, the Evil Road Spirits become trapped inside, and the constant ringing drives them insane. The Evil Road Spirits will “lose their grip” and fall into to the pavement.

Legend also states that a motorcycle bell has twice as much power when it’s purchased by a friend or loved one and given as a gift. (I think it might have three times as much power if purchased by a fellow motorcycle rider, but my honey will have to do with two times as much power for now!)

So, to keep Superman safe, I got him one for his birthday. I made my choice from the awesome selection at Guardian™ Bell. His says “Live to Ride” on one side and “Ride to Live” on the other. I just love it.

And now I notice the bells on other motorcycles and Harleys when we see them parked.

If you have a motorcycle rider in your life whom you love, it makes a great gift!

The Story of How I Met Superman, Part 1: Arms, Man, Arms

The first time I became completely aware of him was on a fall day, close to the beginning of the high-school year. He was leaning against a rail near the band room, his arms outstretched along the rail top, and had his face turned toward a friend. I knew I didn’t know his name, although I knew his friend. But I really wasn’t thinking about his name right then, or why I knew his friends but didn’t know him. Mostly, right then – the day I became aware of him – I was noticing his arms.

He stretched them further across the metal pole, and I took another breath. Being in the early years of high school, I was pretty much relegated to boys with linguini arms. The boys with linguini arms would sort of fling them around when they danced with you, loop them around your waist if they dated you, and force little golf-ball-sized muscles to pop if they tried to suddenly open a heavy door.

But Superman, standing there with his nonchalance, had arms. Continue reading

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