There have been two posts floating around in my head and neither one is complete or honestly that good so how about I throw them together and see what happens.  It honestly could not be worse then telling you about the fluctuations of our temporal thermometer.

I am officially all about facebook now.  I can totally see the appeal.  It is the voyeurism of reality television only with that person you met once at that thing or your mother’s second cousin once removed’s preacher instead of a total stranger!   The thing about facebook is you learn details about people that you never would have known if not for that easy friend button.   What have I learned?  Every single boy I was attracted to as a teenager up until this jerk was a homosexual!   Really.  Fine.  I am glad they are happy and being themselves.  I don’t think a person’s sex life has anything to do with their worth.   I judge that on how much money they have.  Kidding!  Good grief.

What I want to know is what it was about 13-16 year old me that made those boys want to date me?  Hmm.  Was I nice or gullible or accepting or what?  I refuse to believe it was because I had any masculine features.  I was/am a girly girl and had breasts out of the womb (or at least fifth grade).  Why was I attracted to them?  Well, they were cute and kind and I hated jocks.  Feel free to look into your crystal ball and explain it to me.  (disclaimer:  I hope those previous two paragraphs did not come across as rude, or judgmental.  I am pretty open minded yet ignorant all at the same time.)

Next up in the I am barely lucid strep screed I have going on today, guns.  Specifically, guns in your house.   I am a Republican.  Surely you already knew that.  More specifically I am a Constitutional Conservative.   This means that I am A-Ok with you and your gun.  Use it to kill your self  a baby seal coat or to rid your house of a bad guy or show it to your friends to make your penis feel bigger.  Whatever. I really don’t care.   BUT.  There are no guns in my house.  There are two reasons, both of which I have been struggling with, and my husband would appreciate your telling me to get over both of them, because he wants a handgun.

Reason one:  The Husband does not hunt.  He has no need to brag to his friends.  The only reason we would have one would be a protection type thing.  That and to piss off our hippie friends.  Fine, so we would have a gun for “protection”.  We also have a very smart and curious son.  One who is already obsessed with guns, which he knows about only from playing with his friends.  We, of course, would have a very good safe and trigger lock.  So how is a gun that is locked up tighter than Fort Knox going to protect you when there is a bad guy in your house?  How can one both keep kids safe and also have easy access when needed? (note:  We live in a very safe and quiet community–this alleged bad guy in the house is quite a stretch.)

Reason two:  People go crazy.  I could go crazy.  My Husband could go crazy.  Anything could happen.  We both have people in our families that have been totally nutso and honestly it could happen and do I really want easy access to a gun IF ( did you see the BIG IF there?).  I guess that is a crazy worry, but I can’t get it out of my head.  For example, there was a gun in the apartment when this happened.  Maybe that is what is really causing this stupid worry–which I know is not fair to my husband, the kindest, sweetest person on the planet,  but a worry is a worry and the thought of a gun in my house makes me feel icky.   Thoughts?

November 16, 1915

Miss Martha B.

Scranton PA

Friday eve, 7 P.M.

Please Pardon me for not writing Wed. eve as I promised.  Am just as busy as can be.  Mr. Nichols is away on his vacation and you know what that means! Ha!  Will write as soon as convenient.

Fred

I think Mr. Nichols went to rehab.  Or maybe a quick stay at the sanitarium.   Speaking of crazy people,  I am still working on this whole Lexapro withdrawal thing, although it is much, much better.

In November I started getting this crazy weird pain in my side.  It really was more annoying then painful.  Since I am prone to hypochondriacism I googled it and then I ignored it until February.  When it still did not go away I went to the Doctor.  She sent me for a full abdominal ultrasound (no fun when not knocked up!).  It showed nothing.  So last week I went for a dye scan thing.  Turns out when the ob/gyn pumped me full of estrogen last fall to stop that other problem(when I looked for a link to that whiny post I realized I never told you about it.  Good for me.  It fell into the waywayway tmi category anyway.) (it still was not caused by breastfeeding! Was not!) the doctors may have over done it.  That particular medicine turned to sludge in my gallbladder.  Ew.  No stones, just sticky goo clogging up the works.

I got the test results back today…..and my gallbladder is only functioning at 26%.  Not good.  Just in time for my brain to be clear I am going to have to have surgery. Boo.  In other words?  Blogging is still not super convenient, but I promise I have written dozens of lovely posts in my head!

So,  I declare it SPRING.  (Remember that episode of The Office where Michael Scott walks into the room and yells, “I DECLARE BANKRUPTCY!“) My yard may still be a dead and brown mud pit, my jacket may still be in regular rotation, but on my blog it will be warm and bright.  Have some flowers.  These were all taken at Keukenhof gardens, near Amsterdam, in April of 2007–pre-Nikon, mostly by me, but one may have been taken by the hubs.

Sigh.  Maybe we need to take up a collection to get me back to Holland.

p.s.  Grouchies are getting better–gonna step down again tonight.  The finish line is in sight!

No, that is the GROUCHOS.

Well, yeah, I guess he has the grouchies  too–what three year old doesn’t?   But this post is about someone else’s grouchies…Mine.  Remember around a year and a half ago when I tried coming off Lexapro?  What?  You mean you don’t remember each minute detail of my pharmaceutical history? I mentioned it here and here.   Anyway.  At time the benefits of being on a small dose of SSRI were greater than the side effects.  That means I have been on Lexapro, originally prescribed for Post partum depression, for over three years.   I am not so much post partum anymore!   I need to see how I am without the drugs.  I need to stop having (taken from their website: I may or may not have these particular side effects.):

• Drowsiness, dizziness
• Sleep problems
• Mild nausea, gas, heartburn, upset stomach, constipation
• Weight gain, inability to lose weight
• Decreased sex drive, impotence, or difficulty having an orgasm
• Dry mouth, yawning, ringing in your ears.

Right-O.  So those pretty much suck, right?  Only these are the side effects of weaning off Lexapro, which I have been actively doing for the past month:

• Irritability
• Agitation
• Dizziness
• A burning or tingling sensation
• Anxiety
• Confusion
• Headache
• Insomnia
• Tiredness.

Wowza! Super fun!  We can add to that a general dread of blogging.  I do not like a single thing I have written for the past three plus weeks.  I feel dizzy when I start typing.  Re-sizing pictures makes me nauseous.   I have considered pulling the plug on Thehuckablog.

This is where you say, “Oh NO! You can’t do that! I check your blog first thing every morning!”

I will wait while you leave a comment.

Okay, anyway,  I hate blogging right now, but I know I won’t as soon as this general suckiness is over.   Thanks for hanging in there with me and understanding why there are not forty posts about how my head hurts and the room has a distinct spinning sensation.

This was taken 1992–I was 12 and JHJ was 9.  We were at some sort of educational fort thing.  Our vacations were always educational–something that The Hubs and I plan to continue even when we have a surly teenager.

I win the worst outfit award (I have never been to Hawaii, so this outfit was probably from TJ Maxx) , but JHJ gets props for the coordinating blue swim shoes and free hat.

Fast forward to 1999 (I think),  I was 19 and JHJ was 16.  He is wearing entirely black polyester.  In New Mexico.  In August.   This picture makes me wonder if he was thinking about jumping.  Or pushing.   I have vivid memories of this day.  We were staying in a condo in Santa Fe and then driving for day trips.  That morning we knew we were going to be hiking so Dad said JHJ could not wear his black shoes because it was dangerous.  Instead he had to wear white tennis shoes.   Look closely and you can tell who won.   I am wearing Doc Martin sandals (it was 1999, all college students wore docs), extremely practical for hiking.  Good thing my dad never notices my feet.

Even with the black polyester, Mom wins the ugly shirt award–embroidered Noah’s ark on anyone older than three is a no win.  Sorry Mom.

Happy Birthday Punk.

I was in love with him.  I wanted to be with him at all times.  Lordy, was I ever attracted to him.  I trusted him to not hurt me, but I still wanted to be in control.  I still was counting on taking care of myself, with my parents as a fall back.   I’m not sure I even knew HOW to really respect him.

You know that I was an awesome student, right? Well, if I were to write a mid-term paper on what I have learned in the class of love I would say there are two reasons we have a stronger marriage today than we did seven years ago.  1.  When we got married we promised to have faith that God had put us together, and that he would continue to use us for his good. 2.  We are both hard workers.  You see that is one of the most important thing I have gained from this man–love takes work.

It is one of the beautiful truths of life; loving each other in action–what we do and say–produces romance.  Everything in American culture teaches the opposite, that romance turns into love–but that is simply wrong.  Love is a choice and we choose how we’re going to treat our spouses in the good –and in the not-so-good–times.

My husband has taught me that the reality is an enduring, loving, thriving marriage can be built by simply changing how we interact with our spouse.

My husband has shown me that a modicum of kindness, selflessness, and respect goes a very long way.

My advice to newlyweds would be to accept the fact that your spouse isn’t perfect and then start taking notice of all the good.  Focusing on the good allows you to sort of train your mind to be grateful for who they are–which is so much better than feeling disappointed about who they are not.  Then TELL HIM (or her).  Tell him thank you for being a wonderful provider, tell him that he makes the world’s best grilled cheese, tell him that his short cut really was faster, remind him that you love the way they look with crazy David Bowie hair first thing in the morning, tell him he is an amazing father, and tell the whole world that YOU LOVE HIM.

Now I trust my life to this man–mine and our child’s.  Now I know that he will do everything in his power to take care of and provide for his family.  I respect his decisions and am learning to accept that sometimes because he says so is a good enough reason.   I am honored to be his wife.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

The backyard looks so lonely.  Soon it will be a mud pit, and then we will be cursing how fast our grass grows. But, for now, I just miss hanging out barefoot in the grass.

The birds all disappeared.  For days there was no tweeting on our porch.  Then, yesterday, the sun finally peeked through and the birds popped out too, hungry for whatever they could find.

We threw snowballs, we made more snowcream, and, of course, we made snowmen.  Excuse me.  Snow PEOPLE.  Here is our snowlady.  She was ready to catch a ride to Destin, where the sand is as white as she is.  Poor thing’s head fell off because of faulty craftsmanship.  This  earned her the name Antoinette, but it has since been repaired.

We used the bottom half of last week’s snowman to make the middle of this one.  It had melted significantly, but still existed!   This is our rocker snowman–although what decade he rocked in I am unsure, he had eye make-up from the seventies, hair, gloves, and a guitar from the eighties, a shirt from the nineties, and piercings from the 00’s…..and strangely enough a Weiderkehr sangria bottle from a hardrocking party bookclub the night before.

A close up of his face shows an eye that reads less KISS and more country kitch, and an overly large tongue piercing.

The rumor is we have more snow coming tonight, tomorrow and again on Sunday.  I kinda hope not, because I think I am done with winter for this year–but just in case feel free to submit ideas for the next Huckablog family snow masterpiece.

All of these pictures were taken by people other than me.  They were ripped off of their facebook pages for use here.

It was a night of all things 80’s, including me–who was born in 1980.

There were many friends in their 80’s best.

Many children hopped up on sugar.

LOTS of sugar.

Many dishes with lots of continental variety.  (sushi by BiL)

And lots and lots of fun.  Thanks everyone!

Postmarked

January 3, 1919

Endicott, NY

Miss Martha B.

Scranton PA

Ha ha! What do you know about this? Yours rec’d tonight.  Will write Wed eve.  Want to attend a surprise party tomorrow night for Rev. C Chapman?  Sorry you have not been feeling well.

As ever,

Fred

First snow angel!

I think he was still in shock this was happening in our southern town.

“Mama, the snow won’t go on my tongue!”

There is nothing like snow days to have an impromptu play date!  W is getting huge already.

And this kid is way too cute for his own good.

I have a feeling we are going to have our hands very full!

This is O, three, one of our neighbors on the other side.

Her brother L, is five and such a ham!

On the second day we decided to drive the two miles to my parent’s house to have fun in their “un-played in” snow!  They also had the ingredients for snowcream, and the grocery stores here had BARE shelves.

First up, a snow man!  The whole family helped, even the reclusive JHJ.

I can not believe I posted a picture of myself with no makeup.

You know that my dad is a car junkie right?  We decorated our snowman exclusively with things from his garage.  His name is Greasey.

That beard really needs to go!

See that sled my baby is on?  It was my Grandpa’s when he was a little boy.  That is fourth generation tushie sitting on that sled.

Little punk hit me with a snowball!  So I tackled him and covered him with cold kisses.

The Snowcream was delish and no one was injured during the snowball fight. (no pics of that, too dangerous for my camera!)

It was a good weekend, but not good enough to move north of the Mason Dixon.

Some of the photo credits from day two go to JHJ and The HUbs, but I have no idea who took what, so good job guys!

There will be a post with more words than pictures and this month’s postcard soon, I promise.