Pre-printed love notes from Mom?

A few days ago I was in a bookstore with my husband and I saw this.

What is this, you say?

Well as far as I could tell, it was a booklet of pre-printed tear out notes of love, encouragement, etc. “from Mom”.

Complete with suggestions to stick them in in your children’s lunch boxes, backpacks, etc.

I recall first seeing a booklet of these a couple of years ago and being kind of shocked at the time.

But this week I noticed that there were more of these types of booklets, and in various styles, etc.  So does that mean these things have caught on and are actually selling?

Have we really became a society so detached from our children that we need pre-printed, perforated love notes from Mom?

If you want to leave your child a note, does it really take too much time to write that short sentence in your own handwriting, and I dunno… actually sign it?


November 11th

I know what Nov. 11th is.  It is Veteran’s Day.  And nothing I’m about to say should be taken as a slight to our veterans.  The majority of the men in my family (including my husband, father, grandfathers, etc.) are veterans.  I have a tremendous amount of respect for those that serve our country.  I think of them and their sacrifices on a daily basis.  I teach my children to appreciate what those in uniform do and have done, to give them the life that they lead today.

But to me, November 11th will always be “Grandma’s Birthday”.   One of my grandmothers was born on November 11th. She was a very playful grandma and child-like in some ways.  When my first cousins and I were very small she would tell us with a sly smile that school wasn’t in session on Nov. 11th, because it was “Grandma’s Birthday”.  🙂

My Grandma is in Heaven now.  But no matter how old I get, when I hear “November 11th” my mind goes to the woman that kept us many weekends, let us run a muck, bought all our favorite foods, took us around and taught us about trees, flowers and birds, fed us grapes from her carefully kept grapevines – popping them in our little open mouths while she called us “her baby birds”.

It’s 2 o’clock in the morning and Nov. 11th is technically over for this year, but she’s been on my mind all day.  Like all the other November elevenths before today.  Oh what I wouldn’t give to have one more weekend with her and PawPaw. One more Friday night staying up late with my cousins, trying to be just quiet enough to not wake anyone.  One more fun filled Saturday that started with my PawPaw loudly playing his fiddle at the crack of dawn and my Gram clanging pots and pans in the kitchen.  One more Saturday to play all day.  One more Sunday morning together, listening to my Grandma sing and complain about how hot the church was.  One more Sunday dinner with my family all around.  One more game of UNO or dominos after dinner.  One more chance to hug her goodbye & tell her I’d see her next weekend.

I can’t have any of those things again.  But I thank God for the blessings in my life and the wonderful people I have been able to call family.

Yep, Nov. 11th will always be Grandma’s Birthday.

I love you and miss you dearly, Gram.


Go stick your hands in some warm dish water!

I’ve been battling a severe iron deficiency for quite a while now.  One of the many annoying side effects of this is that I have become very cold natured.  (Emphasis on the very.)   The weather has turned colder and I am freeeeeezing today.  Everyone else in the house is of course, fine.

Have you ever had one of those moments that made you think of something from your past? Not the big stuff.  We all get reminders of the big stuff.  But just little things?

Today I had one of those, while shivering in the kitchen thinking about how cold I was.  I remembered when I was a kid and my maternal Grandmother was one of the most hot-natured people I’ve ever met.  My Grandpa was on the total opposite side of the spectrum.  On more than one 70 to 80 degree day he was known to turn the heat on in his truck.

But Grandpa was frequently cold inside the house.  He and Gram never agreed on temperature.  And Gram slaving away in a hot kitchen, didn’t help the issue much.  My Grandma LOVED to feed people. She didn’t just cook a meal, she made feasts.  As my uncle often put it, “She makes enough to feed an Army!”

Every Sunday after church we went to their house for dinner.  And nearly every Sunday my Grandpa complained about being cold.  He’d wear a jacket inside the house, and stand in front of one of their gas stoves, warming his back.  And every time he complained about being cold, Gram would always have the same response.

“Well if you’re so cold, go stick your hands in some warm dish water!”, then she’d tilt her head sideways and give him a playful grin.


And often he’d go do the dishes.

So today I’m following Gram’s advice.  I’m cold, and I’m going to stick my hands in some warm dish water!

Hubby’s facial hair.

Grown Man wrote a cool blog entry yesterday about facial hair, Get Your Facial Hair Under Control.
And it got me thinking about the nuances of men’s facial hair, particularly my husband’s facial hair.  (In all fairness, I have warned you before that I think too much.)

Generally speaking I agree with Grown Man’s post.  The key being the “under control” part.

So in case you were wondering (which I’m absolutely sure you weren’t) here is Dorky Deb’s thoughts on men’s facial hair:

Generally speaking, I like it.  But it’s not for everyone.  It really depends on the person.  Some men look bizarre with facial hair, some look bizarre without it.

My father falls into the first category.  My husband falls into the latter one.

These are the types of facial hair that I find “acceptable”:
(Doesn’t that sound prissy? As if I am the queen of all male appearances – “I dub thee acceptable”…LOL)
– full beard
– mustache (depends heavily on the person)
– goatee

All need to be kept clean and under control.

No varying lengths.  No food.  No grime.  No woolly mammoth stuff.

Creative artistry with facial hair?  No.  Seriously – that dives WAY too far into metro-sexual land for me.   I would never want a man who spent more time in front of a mirror than I do.  And I am for the most part, a shower and go kinda gal.  So…  the idea of any man sitting in front of a mirror daily carving out little designs down his jaw bone…. No.  Just no.

Now let’s get personal, at the expense of my husband of course.  Poor guy.

We’ll travel back to a time to when I first met my husband.  You know that saying about how when men meet a woman they want her to stay the same forever, and how when women meet a man they want to “improve” him.  Well…  I must plead a little guilty to that one, at least on two counts.  (Dorky Deb hangs head in shame.)

My husband is 10, almost 11, years older than I.  When I met him there were two things I wasn’t too crazy about.  One, he had positively hideous glasses.  Dude was still rocking the glasses he got when he left the Army.  And let’s just say the Army wasn’t into looks.  And when you combined his big beefy build, excellent posture, flat-top haircut, and a big thick mustache – the overall look was one that screamed, “I am a cop!”  and made me picture him standing outside my driver’s window saying, “Mam, do you know how fast you were going back there?”

I actually didn’t know what he did for a living or what his past work experience was when I first saw him – but let’s just say I wasn’t far off.

Someday I’ll tell you the story of what happened to the glasses.  It’s actually pretty funny, I think.  He doesn’t think it’s funny at all.  But right now I’m talking about facial hair, so I’ll make an effort to stay on topic.

I didn’t mind the stache, it was just too thick.  WAY too thick.  It wasn’t long or unkempt or anything.  It was just WAY too thick.  I thought, “I could fix that.”   hehehe (yep there’s that pesky theory again.)

Later in the relationship I talked him into whacking down that stache a bunch and later on trying a goatee.  The result was something we were both happy with.  I guess that statement makes me sound vain, but honestly there is just no reason for a man to wear a facial hair style that ages him.  Seriously.

Don’t believe me?  Take a look.  I wish I had better, close up photos.  It took some serious digging just to come up with these photos because my own Grown man is very anti-photo.  Grrrr  Anyway… I give you example #1:

Note big thick stache, and the style of glasses that I hated.


Example #2:
See how much better?  I rest my case.

Personally I like the goatee even more.  But again, my grown man is difficult when it comes to photos, so you’ll have to take my word for that one.  Over the course of our relationship he has on occasion shaved the goatee.  But typically he keeps it.

Once (for reasons I will never understand) he went into the bathroom and gave himself a clean shave. Clean. His entire face.  We were all traumatized.  You think I’m kidding, but I’m not.  My big beefy guy had somehow morphed himself into a soft-looking government type.  He hates that description, but I don’t know how else to describe it.  In a matter of minutes he warped from being my big strong veteran, into looking like he belonged in Washington D.C. wearing a blue suit and a red tie.  It was bad.

When he exited the bathroom he said, “Um, Deb…  I think I..I.. … um… did something bad.”

The kids mouths gaped open, then they ran (seriously).  The baby cried.  (No joke.)  She cried every time he picked her up for 2 days.  And she is a total Daddy’s girl.  He looked that different.

I got a horrible case of the giggles every time he tried to kiss me.  To the point that I think I started to hurt his feelings and I felt absolutely awful about it.  I would try soooooooooooooo hard not to giggle.  But, as anyone who knows me knows, I am not good at suppressing giggles.

We all rejoiced when it grew back in enough that he was recognizable again.

The clean shave is not a good fit for everyone.  But under control?  Absolutely.

I’m tough, want me to show you?

Today a conversation popped up in which I got the distinct impression that my son had somehow gotten the idea that boys were a great deal tougher than girls.  This little theory didn’t set very well with me.

So I pulled him aside and explained to him that I was getting the impression that was what he thought.  And I told him if that was what he though, he was wrong.  I told him that boys & girls might be tough in different ways and strong in different ways.  But they are both tough and both strong.

My 6 year old daughter was eavesdropping on that conversation and walked in beside us and with a smile on her face said,  “I’m a tough girl.  Want me to show you?  I could punch you in your face.”

Yep, that’s my girl.     🙂

You’re a Grown Man

It’s rare that I find a blog that I like as much as You’re a Grown Man.  Ok, I know – I’m a gal.  And a dorky one at that.  So I am admittedly not the target audience.   But I LOVE the blog.

If you haven’t seen it (you really should), essentially the dude gives men tips on being grown men.  Or as he puts it, “I believe men are inherently good creatures who are in need of some council on living up to their potential.”  However you chose to describe it, it is a blog that is striking a really nice balance between educational and fun.

And before any of my male readers get their tighty whities in a bunch, I am not a over-the-top feminist here, promoting a blog that tries to wimpify the men of the world.
Trust me, it’s not that kind of blog.

It’s kind of sad that there is a need for a Grown Man blog.  But without a doubt there truly is a need.  I live in a part of the U.S. where most of the things that he speaks of, are (thankfully) still the norm.  But I see the changes all over other areas.  And even here, especially on trips to town.

Myself being a woman who is really not into the whole metro sexual trend,  I have found his blog to be a breath of fresh air.

I like the blog so much that I find myself scared that it will get ruined somehow.  Like when they try to make a sequel to one of your favorite movies, and you don’t know if it is going to be amazing or just plain suck.  I get that type of feeling of apprehension.  I enjoy reading You’re a Grown Man so much that part of me fears logging on someday and he’ll have a new post titled, “Yes Men, it’s ok to put clear gloss over your mani-pedi”  or something equally horrifying. But so far no such horrors have greeted me.  🙂

I’m convinced that the dude that runs this blog should give a structured class in grown manhood.  A class that men could graduate from, if they choose – kind of like a driver’s license – for manhood.   🙂

And when men graduate, they get a card.  A Grown Man Card, if you will.

I created this post on a whim with all of about 5 seconds of thought, and then it occurred to me that there could be tiers the classes.  Start out with Grown Man 101.  And move up.  Because let’s face it, some men have it down well enough they could clep many or even all of the classes.  But we all know a few men that could truly use a very basic starter course.

Dating sites, Facebook pages, etc. could reflect a man’s “Grown Man” status.  It could be listed in Facebook under “Education”.

….  Yes, the class part of this post is partly in jest.  But honestly it wouldn’t be a bad thing.

Oh and Mr. Grown Man – I see a book deal in your future.

Sean Connery

You often hear people put Sean Connery up on some sort of pedestal, admired, respected, etc.  I wonder why people are so quick to overlook the fact that he thinks physically abusing a woman is ok.  Often it is not that they think it is ok, but rather that they aren’t aware of his views on the subject.  It amazes me the number of people who when you bring this up say, “No!  Not Sean Connery!  Not my hero!”  And sometimes people will argue over and over again that you simply must be wrong.  There is no way Sean Connery said that.  Well he did.

And now thanks to YouTube, it’s really easy and fast to prove it.
So for those in doubt….  watch it straight from the horse’s ass… I.. mean mouth.