A Celebrity Picture Story

I know you all have been wondering where I've been for the past week. Not.

Tim and I visited Washington D.C. and met my sister and brother-in-law there along with a childhood friend and her husband. We showed up on the red carpet, under-dressed for the occasion I'm sure. But it was fun and nobody said a word about our attire. As a matter of fact, they were pretty stunned to silence. It was awfully quiet!

Firstly, we were greeted by the lovely Marilyn Monroe, just as gorgeous as ever. What do you mean she's dead? Look at her! She's literally singing Happy Birthday, Mr. President.

And by the way, after she greeted the philandering...er, President and First Lady, I made it a point to encourage the two iconic figures to enjoy our company. They could hardly refuse.

I'll try not to annoy you too much, Mr. President.

When you start mingling with the heavy duty crowds like the political figures, they get a little uppity at times and think they can run you off by making you feel like you don't belong, but Tim fixed that very quickly. You have to treat his wife (that's me) like excellency or you'll be the one high tailing it out of there. Get it?

Beware, I have a lighter in my pocket.

Anyway, egos flared, tempers culminated into a standoff, but soon enough all was well and we moved on. Why? Because, someone got Tim's attention and his man hairs settled into a nice down pelt.

So this is how you're supposed to treat them...

Julia Roberts made sure he felt at home in the star-studded atmosphere. Watch it, Missy. I can assure you he's not going without a fight. I have to warn you, I pull hair and it hurts. Plus, he doesn't like big teeth.

So now I'm forced to lure my man away from the clutches of the tooth fairy and what better way than to have Mr. Clooney propose to me!

Sorry, Amal, but I think he just got tired of your good looks and humble attitude. I promise you, I won't be signing a pre-nup. There's a price for everything, but I'm priceless. Ask Tim.

Why yes, George, but the pre-nup is a no go.

Alas, I cannot compete with these Hollywood types. They come out of nowhere! How do I show Tim that I'm the better catch? I don't have the money, the fans, the looks, the ASS. I mean look at THAT!

He DID put a ring on it!

Beyonce's got all that, plus a mean ass look on her face. Does she have to rub it in so nastily? Men will be men, I guess. A warning to you lovely ladies out there. A cheater is always a cheater. If he does it to me, he'll do it to you. You haven't won anything! You'll see. Karma's a bitch.

Mmmhmmm. Go on, girl!

So what do we do to keep our marriages going? How do we compete in a world filled with people who believe that beauty is the catch-all when it comes to mating? We put our men in the field, that's what we do!

Sharing strategy!

Keep them busy. Allow them to compete and play hard. There are plenty of sports for them to get involved in and to help blow off testosterone.

Sharing jabs!

Soon enough, they will be so busy patting themselves on the back, shaking hands with their competitors.

I thoroughly enjoyed kicking your ass at Mario Brothers.

They will encourage one another, build future bonds, and share fist bumps.

 and all the while...back at the fortress....we're helping out as best we can to make this a better place, opening lines of communication, and sharing knowledge.

You missed a comma. See, right there.

We're bringing our passions to the table and opening our worlds to younger geeks who are eager to contribute!

See that? It's an integral. Amazing stuff!

Seriously, I had no idea this would turn into a "making progress in our relationships" type of post, but there you go!

And, that's a wrap!

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Lucille Ball - The Day We Broke That Mould

I saw this photo circulating on Facebook today and it made me think about my marriage. Every character has their moments and Lucy certainly had hers. I loved that woman.

She is my character of the day because I've made her into another picture story on a few events which took place way back when. Thus, these photos capture the nature of my dilemma as it occurred.

Yes, all marriages, especially new ones, are chock full of potential pitfalls if you do not do this one thing which is necessary for any marriage to succeed, and that thing is called compromise. Even when you fight and your feelings are hurt, it's important not to make the other person the one who is always apologizing. You must, at times, concede you were half wrong.

Mistake number one I made was while at my girlfriend's house I mentioned this argument Tim and I had had and how furious I was with him, because now I was on the hook for giving daily updates. I think my words to her were along the line, "I'm sick of his shit. He's going to have to suck up to me." Okay, I was 20.

When Vicky's phone rang, she answered, and handed it to me, "It's Tim." She had this cheesy grin on her face and I took the receiver cautiously.

"Yes?" I could feel the tightness in my lips and the cold, harsh tone of my voice slapped at the silence which ensued.

"We need to talk."

My heart skipped and jumped into my throat. I knew at that moment, he wanted a divorce. "Really?"

"Yes. Can you meet me at the house during my lunch hour?"

"Sure," I'd said.

Our house was directly across from Vicky and Carlos' house, with about half the length of a football field in between. I walked home and waited for Tim to arrive.

When he did, I tried everything to calm myself, agonizing over the words sure to spill from his lips. But, before he could say anything, I blurted out, "I'm sorry, Tim! It's all my fault. I shouldn't have been such a sensitive child. Will you please forgive me?"

"Of course I will. I love you." Awww.

We made grilled cheese sandwiches together and tomato soup. Then he was off to work. Funny thing about my friend is she couldn't help herself, the nosy gawker. She probably watched out her kitchen window to see when Tim left the house. No sooner than he let himself out, my phone rang, "Girl, so tell me what happened!"

I had to let my girl know I stood strong. "You know, Tim's a good man, but I got him so wrapped around my little pinkie. He apologized, we snuggled a bit, and then he made me a hot, gourmet meal for lunch!"

"Oh, how sweet!" Vicky's voice fell away.

"Is that so?" I turned and it was Tim in the doorway, and from the fury in his face I could tell he'd obviously heard every word which had sprung from my juvenile pie hole.

"Um, I'll call you back later," I whispered into the phone at my dear friend, as if the whisper would wipe away any of my previous words. Then I quickly hung up the phone.

"I can explain," I offered Tim, but I had no idea what I could possibly say at that point. It just sounded better than saying nothing.

Tim turned for the door, opened it, and walked out. "Tim!" I called out but to no avail. I couldn't help but wonder why my friend couldn't have remained at her kitchen window long enough to see that Tim had obviously forgotten his keys and had made his way back to the front door. Fine friend she was, that one.

I tell you what. Talk about the groveling I had to do to make up for that one. I certainly learned my lesson and that was almost 27 years ago.

I can laugh about it now because when I think about Lucille Ball and Ricky Ricardo, I smile a little, knowing inside, there was one more couple to make before they broke that mould and that would be us.


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A Tale of Cognitive Dissonance

Way back in the day, when I was in college, my psychology instructor introduced a new phrase which, until yesterday evening, I never really understood. This has been a mind blowing revelation, so please follow along.

The phrase I'm sharing today is cognitive dissonance. If you're a smarty pants and already know what this means, great! For the rest of us, it is broken down as such.


cog•ni•tive  [kog-ni-tiv]
Adjective - of or pertaining to the act or process of knowing, perceiving, remembering, etc.; of or relating to cognition


dis•so•nance  [dis-uh-nuhns]
Noun - inharmonious or harsh sound; discord; cacophony


From About.com

The term cognitive dissonance is used to describe the feeling of discomfort that results from holding two conflicting beliefs. 

How does one hold two conflicting beliefs? Well, that depends on your motives at any given moment, right? This is how it came to me. Because up until last night, I don't believe I'd ever had conflicting beliefs. I'm not a republican AND a democrat. I'm not a Christian AND a Buddhist. Get it? That's why this phrase had always been difficult for me to comprehend.

I'll start with the day before. Tim had been working in Miami, so I had some time on my hands and the Yorkie had made a matted mess of her backside. I took this opportunity to comb out her lovely locks. She's a ball of fire, and in order to get her to calm down, I had to hold her steady on the kitchen counter. I know this is not the preferable place to do this, but it was convenient. Was there an epiphany at this moment? No. That came later.

So, I'm combing her hair, pulling out knots, very careful not to trigger any yips from this four pound pooch. All the while, she's excited about this nearby tomato I'd taken a slice off earlier during lunch. I'm a bit embarrassed, but I guess I should have put it away, else she wouldn't be so distracted. If she sniffed it, she would realize it wasn’t some hunk of meat. She'd probably leave it be and I could finish combing out her matts.

Okay, so I let her sniff it. How was I to know she liked tomatoes? I snatched her away, but not before she'd taken several licks from the exposed end. I made a note to throw it out because I'd rather waste nearly an entire tomato than to risk sharing that reeking saliva of hers. It would probably eat its way into the core of the fruit. I'm not being mean. This dog's tongue has been places. I'm embarrassed, again.

All of these things I'm describing to you here are all cognitive. I'm knowing, perceiving, and remembering. I'm very aware of all these things at the moment, but our processing of information changes when we're in a different environment, with different people and different motives. So, enough about the Yorkie for now.

Tim arrived home yesterday and we made a quick trip to the store to stock up on some essentials, namely beer. I decided to accompany him to the store because he'd been gone and I figured we could get caught up on things. And, just for the sake of contrast, Tim's the bargain shopper and I'm the "get in, get it, and get out" type of shopper, and on that evening I had to pee. However, I knew it could wait since we only live 15 minutes away.

So the dissonance part? He starts his bargain shopping for things I felt we could pick up another time, a time when I wasn't consciously aware of my expanding bladder.

"Oh, I know what I needed to get," he says.

Groan!

I say, "Okay, let's get it and go."

He goes back two more aisles and grabs a few more items. I said he's a bargain shopper, not an efficient one. Meanwhile, my bladder is filling up.

Suddenly, he stops pushing the cart and I slam into his back. "What do you want for breakfast in the morning?" he asks.

"I don't care, BLTs."

"Good, I got bacon the other day and we have lettuce. I just need to get a loaf of bread."

At this point, I'm not even listening anymore because my bladder if so full and I'm agreeing with everything. No more items! Stop adding items to the list and let's get the hell out of here!

"Can we go now?" I plead.

"Yep, let's get out of here."

My hero! Peeing is going to feel soooo good.

We head toward the checkout and Tim says, "We have a tomato at home. I saw it on the counter."

The feeling I had at that moment is called cognitive dissonance.

The Man Song - Character Development Exercise

I struggled with character development over the weekend. I performed all my usual activities to motivate my muse. I know we all have tricks up our sleeves, but sometimes it's like trying to entice a new kitten to chase the yarn ball once she's bored with it. Come on... Look! *wiggle piece of yarn*

Nothing.

My usual activities when I'm desperate?

• Sit in seat and stare at computer for an hour
• Stream of consciousness writing with no results
• Fill cooler with Miller Lite and go to flea market
• Start an argument with a stranger

Nothing seemed to work and I spiraled into a depressive state. Finally, my husband chimed in and we had a discussion.

"What exactly are you trying to do?"

"I'm trying to find a balance for my lead character." I downed the remaining contents of my fifth beer.

"What do you mean, balance?"

"Grant Elliot is an alpha male. He's a man's man. Typical lead."

"Why is that a problem?"

"It's not! I just want to insert an extra character so that my readers understand I'm not delusional in thinking that all male characters must be super hot, super intelligent, and super charismatic. You know, I need to depict a more realistic male character to balance things out in my novel."

"Realistic, huh?"  Here you go!

Labor Day Mission and Mishap

I woke up this morning, Labor Day 2013, to find I'd neglected to share my experience with you of my visit to the wonderful city of Savannah, GA. While attempting to compile a post and provide pictures from my wonderful vacation, I noticed the warming temperatures in my home. Yes, the air conditioned atmosphere I'd been privileged to know the entirety of my life has been taken away, though temporarily (I hope). I'll have to call a technician tomorrow, during non-holiday hours, of course.

In the meantime, while I sweat profusely in my newly transformed 1,630 sq. ft. oven, because the thunderstorms are preventing a nice, cool dip in the pool, my husband approaches me with the question, "Can I get you to help me with something?"

OH, LO AND BEHOLD! That means he's done started something which must be completed by the end of the day or I'll not get any sleep, let alone any writing done.

I follow him to the bedroom, but not before making a brief stop in front of the oscillating fan we'd set up in the living room. This gives me some relief, but it doesn't tame the rising temperatures produced by the blazing Florida sun.

When I finally arrive at the door of the master bedroom, I am witness to piles of 15 years worth of historical relic, which has been displaced, meaning everything which occupied our walk-in closet had been transferred into our bedroom and onto every available surface you can possibly imagine: bed, floor, windowsill, dresser, name it.

He places hands on hips and says, "I need your help. What can we toss and what do you want to keep?"

ARRRRGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm talking everything from 1995 letters of recommendation from old bosses, old text books and book club membership collectibles, to pictures, report cards, closed accounts, five purses filled with receipts, missing social security cards (2), and my old passport I never declared as lost when I got my new one. What is wrong with this man? Doesn't he realize you don't start this sort of mission on LABOR DAY and WITH NO AIR CONDITIONING??!

Am I angry he asks...

Yes, but I still love you. Happy Labor Day!

So, how did you spend your Labor Day? Did you work? Did you sweat? Or, did you actually relax and enjoy your time off?

A Bittersweet Mother's Day

I'm not saying Happy Mother's Day this year for many reasons, so I hope my friends and family will understand. I have so much Mother's Day happiness with all things going well in my life. I wish to share these things with you, but I also want to go a little deeper into this day, because it's not always a positive thing, but it is always a special day for many reasons. 

I want to share the diversity of what has become my Mother's Day this year, a very special day, I promise you!

My youngest stepson, Chris, and his wife, Kasey, had their daughter last year. Bailee experienced her first Mother's Day. From our Panama City Beach vacation! Her 2nd Mother's Day. Haha!!

My older stepson, Timmy, and his wife, Kelly, had their son this year. Levi experienced his first Mother's Day. I think I have permission to post this photo, originally published on Facebook. I will ask forgiveness if not, and remove it if chastised. Isn't it easier to ask for forgiveness rather than permission?

I welcomed a new daughter into my life this Mother's Day weekend, a perfect companion for my son, Cameron. Who knows what's best for their baby better than anyone? A mother! I'm so happy that my son met someone so caring and patient. Photos coming soon, I promise!

Kristina's mother, Stephanie Senter, did an amazing job on the decorations for the wedding, and her floral arrangements were spectacular. Another amazing mother, stepping in to support her daughter on a special day. More photos to come! 

My own daughter, Chelsey, amazes me year after year, as she grows into a beautiful and independent woman. She's determined to succeed as being her own person. A mother's pride I will not hide. She moves into her own apartment the 1st of July. I expect her to come home often to watch the occasional chick flick!

I also dedicate this post to my own mother, who passed away in September of 2006. I know she would have loved to experience these things with me. More important, I have an author friend whom I follow on a regular basis at High Heels and Hot Flashes (imagine that, I'm menopausal). Debra's daughter's last Mother's Day is today because her daughter has a week left in a fight against AIDS. Because I cannot imagine the pain and struggle of losing a child, I will take this day and pray for my friend, a fellow writer.

Please remember all those mothers who are struggling in the world today and pay tribute to them as well. It's not a Happy Mother's Day for all. Though we are grateful and proud, we are also humble, and we pray for our fellow moms out there who may be suffering for any number of reasons.

Bless you moms out there! I love you all.

Five Movies About Writers

I was reminiscing about older movies today. Not major mega hit movies, but the ones I can watch again today. I rediscovered these five movies. They are ones that make me smile when thinking about them.

What do they have in common? They have protagonists and/or supporting characters who happen to be writers. These writer characters carry, in a sense, some of my own spirit. If you haven't experienced these movies, please go out and buy them! I’d like to know your thoughts.



1. Funny Farm (1988), Andy Farmer (Chevy Chase) is a sportswriter. He and his wife Elizabeth (Madolyn Smith) move to the country so he can write the next Great American Novel.

However, so many obstacles keep him from completing his manuscript, including his struggles with the fact that his wife is also looking to publish a children’s book. I could sit down today and watch this movie in my PJs while having a cup of hot chocolate topped with those little mini marshmallows.

Andy Farmer (Chase): You don't know a thing about writing. You're a Goddamn schoolteacher.

2. Don’t Tell Her It’s Me (1990), Shelley Long plays a romance writer whose brother, a survivor of Hodgkin’s disease, crushes on a friend. Lizzie Potts (Long) transforms her brother into one of her stereotypical romance heroes in order that he wins over the woman he has fallen in love with from afar. Everything from his new name, Lobo, his tan skin, and new eye color, thanks to color contacts, conveniently disguises his former self. I won’t spoil it for you, but this movie is hilarious.

Lizzie Potts (Long): No! Annabelle! Don't play with the space heater coil. Piglet, if you breathe gas it will tie up all your available hemoglobin and there will be none left for oxygen transfer. Your lips and nail beds will turn cherry red and you'll die of carbon monoxide poisoning.

3. Misery (1990), Paul Sheldon (James Caan) is a famous writer rescued by a fan and former nurse Annie Wilkes (Kathy Bates). Annie kidnaps Paul (Caan) and holds him hostage so that he can write his next sequel to Misery, his famous series. This woman is psychotic, and when she discovers his latest manuscript involves killing off her favorite heroine, it is not good for Paul.

Annie Wilkes (Bates): [Right after smashing Paul’s ankles with a sledgehammer] God I love you.

4. Best Friends (1982), Richard Babson (Burt Reynolds) and Paula McCullen (Goldie Hawn) are screenwriters in a 5-year relationship. When they decide they should get married, plans are made to visit each other’s families, where they discover how different they are.

This is a perfect example of don’t try to fix something that isn’t broken. Separate, they are perfect. Merge them and it doesn’t work. The same reason you shouldn’t mix genres, but everyone is doing it, right?

Breasts too large, Richard? Every female character you create has breasts too large.

Just an aside:

You can tell a dude wrote a female protagonist…

She stopped running to catch her breath, her breasts rising and falling against the soft cotton material of her blouse.

5. Seems Like Old Times (1980), Nick Gardenia (Chevy Chase) is a writer who rents a cabin in the woods in hopes to complete his novel. Forced at gunpoint, he commits a robbery and then seeks out his ex, Glenda Parks (Goldie Hawn), to represent him. In the meantime, he is being disruptive with her new life and ambitious husband, Ira Parks (Charles Grodin).

Note: Glenda Parks has a house full of dogs, large and small. She even has one that looks exactly like my Biscuit.

Glenda (Hawn): You are making me crazy!
Ira (Grodin): I’m not making you crazy…
Glenda (Hawn): Anyone who forces me to make chicken pepperoni is making me crazy. And YOU are making me crazy. (Exits)
Ira (Grodin): [to himself] I’m not making her crazy.

You Didn't Write That

Can you imagine if someone told you this about something you wrote, a creation that came from your hard work? But, someone allowed you the time to write, gave you an opportunity to lock yourself away so you could produce that piece of work. Someone helped you along the way, somewhere. That's THEIR book.

You have to understand this concept, don't you?



I'm going to jump on the bandwagon here. This post is inspired by Obama's unpopular speech in Roanoke, Va. My husband was born there and he grew up there so we watched intently. Did Obama really say that? "That business, you didn't build that. Other people did, tax dollars built that."

Okay, let me calm my mother down. She's fixing to turn over in her grave. Wait, she's in an urn on my mantle. Forget that.

Let me explain.

My mother didn't speak a bit of English when she came to this country after marrying my father. She raised us kids and was a stay at home mother. However, when my parents' marriage went on the decline, my mother decided she had to work and make her own income. My father eventually left her for a younger woman and she had to work two other part time jobs in order to take care of three children.

The restaurant where my mother worked allowed employee discounts on food, so we ate a lot of Japanese food and my mother saved up enough money (over a period of 5 years) to purchase the restaurant. She worked at her own restaurant as a cook because this helped her to keep the business running efficiently and cost effectively. She owned her business for 25 years, until she developed cancer and died in September of 2006.

Did she build this business? You're damned straight she did!

Did she drive to work on roads built with tax dollars? Yes. Did she PAY taxes? Yes. So, she paid tax dollars that built roads she used to drive her ass to work, to HER business.

Sorry, mom. I promise I won't vote for this man!

Blast From The Past NOLA!

You may know I recently celebrated my 25th wedding anniversary, or you may not...I did.

Are We There Yet? is a blog about making progress and I look at milestones as progress. Thus, my blog entry on this day deals with time and how we share it with the world.

It is about my time spent in a land devastated by hurricane Katrina back in 2005. Katrina is a pretty famous event and there's way much more important information out there than I wish to cover in this post. I was more fascinated by an older historical phenomenon, the New Orleans cemeteries and their spirits.


Guided Walking Tours

Not long after we arrived, I rang the local cemetery tour agencies. Above ground tombs and voodoo magic were two areas I wanted to explore. I didn't want to leave New Orleans without having had a tour through the cemeteries and learning about the history of the people and how they buried loved ones, especially during epidemic onslaughts of yellow fever.

A two hour guided tour is well worth your time and dollar. It would have been boring taking a stroll through the beautiful cemeteries in New Orleans without the stories behind the variety of weather beaten tombstones marked with date ranges spanning the late 1700s to as early as the year 2011.

At first glance, these tombstones appear to be less efficient than what we're used to in the more modern graveyards of the south, but New Orleans requires a unique process in dealing with the deceased. There are more than a handful of bodies represented by each of these marked tombs, even some with more than one family.

Each body entering a family tomb is encased in a pine box and stored within the chambers for one year and a day, at which point the body is removed, compacted into a smaller container, and pushed to the back of the tomb, where it is then dropped into a lower chamber to further decompose with the rest of the decaying bodies similarly disposed in prior years.

We enjoyed two tours in the cemeteries of New Orleans. We visited the Lafayette Cemetery with the Ghost and Legends Tour and the St. Louis Cemetery with the Spirit Tours of New Orleans. I enjoyed both because they each had a spirit all their own, St. Louis Cemetery being the older of the two.

We even passed Nicolas Cage's tomb which he purchased in 2010. The picture to the left is the pyramid where he will rest one day. I can't imagine them storing his body here and then after a year, removing it and crushing it down to fit into a tiny box. I can hear the thud as his remains hit the bottom of the tomb. At least he'll be dry.

This is the architecture designed to work around areas where you may only be inches above sea level. When you think of it in that respect, this is unique to New Orleans and the reasoning for its design is fascinating.

The Garden District

Take this tour if you want to learn about the history of New Orleans and how the years between the early settlements and the wars and conflicts influenced the architecture and culture developed from the French Quarters (party time!) and the Garden District (affluent area).

This is a house which is said to be haunted. The spirits of those from the past still live here and you can actually feel their presence while walking around in the Garden District of New Orleans. It's as if jazz music, laughter and party goers linger, providing an undying spirit and ambiance.


The French Quarter District

Wall view in the voodoo temple of Marie Laveau

Take this tour if you are interested in the older historical tales which carry into the Voodoo culture and touch on a more traditional background of events behind the scenes in New Orleans.

This one ended with an actual walk-through of the Marie Laveau's House of Voodoo  personal temple, owner Priestess Miriam. I took plenty of pictures, but most turned out a little blurry because it was dark and camera flashes were not permitted. This is a painting which lay to the back, tucked away from the various shrines and displays.

How We Met Blog Hop

I'm participating in Melinda Dozier's How We Met Blog Hop! Head on over and sign up. It doesn't start until June 30th (their anniversary). My anniversary was June 12th so I decided to post mine just a little earlier! I also broke the 100 word maximum rule.  Oops, what did you expect from a passionate writer?

So...How DID we meet?

He was stationed at Camp Lejeune, NC. I worked for my mother at The Rice Bowl Restaurant & Lounge. He used to come in for takeout every now and again. I didn't much care for him. I thought he was a little stuck up because he would come in, order food, drink one beer, and then leave. I don't even recall if he was a great tipper.

He would always talk to my mom. He was really nice to her, but no one else. Then one day he mentioned fishing.

My mother said, "What do you do with all the fish you catch?"

"We let them go," he said.

"No, don't let them go anymore. You bring them to me and I'll make you sushi." 

My mother didn't sell sushi in her restaurant because it was too expensive to keep freshly stored and we didn't have enough customers to keep the spoilage down. It was too much hassle for what it was worth.

So then he started coming in more often, bringing my mother fresh grouper and tuna, which she happily prepared for him and served on a bed of thinly shredded cabbage with a dab of wasabi mustard on the side. I didn't understand why my mother was so thrilled that this man would bring her fish and let her prepare sushi for him. He would just sit there, eat his food and have conversations with my mother while I sat there waiting for him to ask me for another beer.

"Diane, you should get him another beer. No charge his ticket, it's on me."

WTF??

Something was unsettling about him and I didn't know what it was, until the day I discovered who he was.

"So what's your MOS, marine?" Another customer asked him.

"I'm a CID agent."

"Ah, one of them." The customer dropped the questioning shortly after, and via my great communications skills, I learned the following: MOS was an acronym for Military Occupational Specialty and CID was an acronym for Criminal Investigations Division.

Mind you, at the time, I had access to the military base commissary, which means low cost, tax free, produce/meats. Being that we were a restaurant, what better place to conduct a black marketing sting operation, right? He was spying on me and my family! He'd been watching us, following us to see if we were utilizing the military facility to make unauthorized purchases for the purpose of redistribution for profit!

I was weary for weeks and I spent countless days and nights in a cold sweat over the whole conspiracy.

"Don't be silly, Diane." My mom tried to tell me what a great guy he was and that I should be lucky to find a man like him.

It took several weeks to rid myself of the paranoia to the point I could even like the man, but when I did start to like him, I really started to like him. Then, after getting to know him, I told him what I'd originally thought, that he was investigating me for black marketing.

He laughed and said, "We don't go looking for work. We have enough work investigating crimes we know about."

He laughed at me and laughed at me. Then he laughed at me some more. As a matter of fact, he laughed at me so much that I started to hate him again.

Alright, so I've always had this grandiose notion that I was somehow important enough for any number of shenanigans going on around me, but I sure as hell didn't need to be laughed at for it!

I got over it soon enough. I think he fell in love with me because I was that entertaining. I fell in love with him because he grounded me, which is something I desperately needed (and still do). Later, after we were married for several years, my mother would tell us that she was so thrilled because she knew she'd found the perfect match for her daughter, and she did.

June 12th of this year was our 25th wedding anniversary. So in celebration, I'm sharing some older photographs as well as an updated one we had taken while on our anniversary this past June.

This is me in  May of 1988, almost a year after we got married. 

Tim and our son, Cameron. This was around October 1989. Cameron was almost 1 years old.

This is Tim and me with Chelsey, Cameron and my late Grandmother.

June 2012, celebrating our 25th wedding anniversary!

If you are unable to participate, please share with us how you met your significant other. Just leave it in the comments below!