Independence Day

This year, the holiday has a little extra meaning for me and a whole lot of other people: We’re one step closer to being equal to everyone else in the United States of America. I can sing this song with so much more pride this year. I love my country — not necessarily my government and definitely not all my fellow Americans, but this is a great country making big strides in ways that mean everything to me.

So happy birthday, America :)

Alec and Carter are…


wedding rings
Yes, I wrote once that not all couples get married and talked about how many other things we do in our daily lives that bind us together in our commitment…but that was in 2013 and a lot has happened since then. Carter is the one I want to spend my life with, and he feels the same way about me.

I didn’t do anything fancy, just got down on one knee, held his hand, and asked. He said yes before I could finish saying “me” at the end of “Will you marry me?” Yeah, we both cried.

No set date, no venue, or anything else like that. However, a certain someone blond suggested a double wedding someday soon. ;-)

Grams and Edgar Got MARRIED


Those sneaky people! They had us all over for Grams’ birthday and surprised us with A WEDDING!

It was really adorable. Why are old people in love so adorable?! I cried, of course, but I wasn’t the only one. They were just so damn cute and happy.

Grams was especially happy to have pulled the wool over all our eyes. There was much cackling.

One of the residents married them and a couple of their friends stood up with them. There were flowers all over and dinner really was catered by the community :) Everybody gets involved with the weddings over there. They love it.

And now it makes sense that Grams asked me how I felt about het couples getting married while I couldn’t a couple weeks ago (because we can now!!) 😀 . I thought it was just a conversation — where I said I don’t want to deny anyone in love the right to marry — but now I know she was asking for permission. She wouldn’t have done it otherwise.

Love her so much ❤️

And my new grandpa ❤️

Happy 78th Birthday, Grams!

Since starting this blog, we’ve given Grams a disco full of half-naked men on birthday cards, a pool full of twinks, and a night out at a sports bar where she got the majority of us drunk. This year, she wants…a quiet family party.

She’d do exactly that.

I swear, I’ve been all kinds of twitchy since learning that was the plan. My grandmother doesn’t do quiet parties. I wouldn’t put it past her to have a stripper for everyone — and to have that stripper be 100% the right “type” for their assigned party-goer. Yep, she’d track down the only bear stripper in all of Ohio for me and a twink (with a death wish) for my husband just because she’d think it was hilarious.

No amount of pestering has gotten her to give any further details than a family get-together with a catered dinner in the retirement community’s party room. So we’re bringing birthday gifts and dressing nice even though I kinda want a set of brass knuckles in my pocket.

You know what? As I’m writing this and considering the number of times I’ve checked in with her, I wouldn’t put it past her to be deliberately making us all twitchy. There’s her funny. That conniving little…sweet old lady. {ugh}

I’ll try to remember to update you in the comments after whatever this is happens. Assuming I survive, of course.

The Turkey Coma of Father’s Day 2015

It started innocently enough. Men and grilling. Cliche, really. Doubtful there’s anyone who hasn’t seen a man revert to something primitive in front of a fire with a stack of meat beside him. Give a man a match and a spatula and he’ll make you dinner.

But, dear lord, somebody remember the vegetables. The leafy, green vegetables. You’ll need something to help move the meat through your system. Trust me.

Must eat turkey leg!

Must eat turkey leg!

I don’t remember how much I ate, only the aftermath of what it did to me. Chunks of pork and chicken and turkey stuck in my teeth. A rounded belly that forced me to open the button on my jeans. Belching. . . Oh, the belching! And a fullness the likes of which I’ve only tickled the edges of during Thanksgivings and Christmases of the past.

And then came the comas. No, autocorrect, I don’t mean commas. It was an epic case of tryptophan overload. We could’ve died, maybe. I didn’t know you could grill turkey legs. I know now. We all know now.

I might need to be a vegetarian for a little while.


I can write this now because the pipes are finally clear. Thank you.