I want my husband to own a Hog

I stopped by the Harley shop today. Right on. I want to buy my husband a Hog in ten years. He deserves it. He is putting me through college with loans and letting me do as I must. TeaCup inspected the shop and my eldest were annoyed with me. I was a fish out of water in there. I bought him a T-Shirt for now and stuck it inside his pillow case.

In ten years TeaCup will be almost 13-- old enough to be at the house while her father and I ride on his bike a few miles to a certain mountain pass and have a picnic with Waterford crystal and Royal Doulton china.
I so badly want to do things like this. When he and I were dating and my eldest daughters were with my ex, we would do stuff like this in his car. One day it will happen and we will have a blast and be among those who say that Life begins at 50! Not that it's bad now by any means-- we will just have new opportunities to do other things and for this I cannot wait. I remember thinking at anyone over 30 was old and couldn't fathom being married to someone or of being older. My husband is almost 41 and I am almost 40 and it doesn't seem old at all or even close to middle age.


Today I went to the Big City to shop. I hate shopping. I have to be in the mood. TeaCup was being great, but I was just not up for it. I went to a bookstore and got depressed. I need to stop going to bookstores because I wind up going past the self help books and I usually see some sad looking women looking at books about how to save their marriages. I did what I like to do. I picked up Gloria Steinem's Revolution from Within. I started laughing to myself which caused a lady to look at me and make eye contact with me. I quoted something and we started talking. The other lady there got into the conversation. Yeah-- right on. I put the book down and looked at other things and they both bought copies of other kick-ass books. I don't really like Gloria-- I remember her being shrill in the 1970's. Her voice still bothers me even though she has probably honed her style. Anyway, I infused a couple of ladies with some attitude.

I just read an awesome article about Barak Obama's mother, Stanley Ann Dunham Soetoro. I remember being a single mother quite well and my struggles-- she was going to Jakarta and globe trotting with Obama and his sister while home schooling them! What a lady! I like that she and Barack communicated with letters-- I am an avid letter writer and Barack also decorated his letters to her! I decorate letters-- some of my best inspiration comes from thinking and praying about the person I am writing to, coming up with something and doing it-- then later for a class assignment, it hits me to add something and my professor thinks I am divinely inspired. When I die, I expect that many friends will make copies of a few of my envelopes to send to my husband and children and tell them that they loved getting my letters and that my husband and kids will wrote back telling them stories of certain envelopes because I show my family my letters and they are also letter decorators. I am digressing. I now know that Barack's mom was the definition of what I consider cool-- she was into languages, she was artistic in living, and her son seems to have inherited that. It bothers me that he doesn't put his hand over his heart when he hears the National Anthem but gosh darn it, he's an artist! Artists are allowed to be that way!

My husband is playing a game with the kids. Last week he played Risk with them and my 10 year old with special needs was WINNING but lost an area to his brother so he flipped the game over. My 11 yo daughter had whined the duration of the game and my 8 &9 year old sons had actually cried when they lost territories. Before he started the game, he wrote up a promise of how to act-- no crying, whining, accusing others of cheating, etc. and outlined the consequences of it and invited them to sign it, explaining that it was voluntary but that they'd not play if they didn't. He deserves two Harleys.