I didn’t die but I almost did and all I got was this lousy t-shirt.

I haven’t posted in a few days, and I’m not apologizing. Why? Partially because I was on vacation with family for Father’s Day weekend. Also partially, I’m pretty sure I almost died.

The vacation part was fun, or at least it started out that way. Red and I hopped in the car and drove from our home in Kentucky up to see family in the land of beer and cheese, Wisconsin. If you’ve never been,  Madison is a great town with beautiful lakes and tons to do. We had a great time catching up with our loved ones, goofing around, eating and drinking far too much beer. The weather was awesome and the company was even better.

We were due to drive out of town early Monday morning, making Sunday our last full day of fun and fellowship. The plan was to enjoy a cookout, with additional family members coming over to join in the Father’s Day festivities. Then that evening, the adults were to head out for a night on the town to a trendy bar for cocktails and cuisine.  That was the plan. Sounds perfect, right? The only slightly crappy part would be the inevitable saying of goodbyes at the end of the night, because as we all know, goodbyes really bite.

But you know what else bites? Spiders…

Since nothing can ever be easy with me, that morning as Red and I were getting gussied up at our hotel in preparation of Sunday-Funday, a freaking ninja-spider decided to hack and slash his way through my thick tresses and make a meal out of the back of my head. (By the way, if that made you squirm, I don’t feel sorry for you. I lived it.) I wasn’t aware when it happened, and for that at least, I’m thankful. My first clue something was afoot was while en route to our family gathering, when I suddenly began itching uncontrollably. And since I’ve never before experienced an allergic reaction, it took my dimwitted ass a while to realize there were hives forming all over my body. Red made a pit stop so we could buy some Benedryl, where while standing in the checkout line, I felt the back of my head and discovered a swell the size of a tennis ball.

Awesome.

By the time we arrived at our destination, I was more than a little panicked. I popped a Benedryl and went to the bathroom where family members slathered diaper rash cream over my hives in an attempt to squelch the relentless itching. A mere 30 minutes prior, I had strutted out of our hotel room feeling pretty cute. Now, I was hobbling out of the family bathroom covered in red bumps, white goo and with my gunky hair knotted into a bun.

Also awesome.

Although my family successfully rescued me from certain peril, for which I am grateful, I spent the rest of Sunday-Funday lumbering around feeling a little less than human and praying that at the very least, the vicious bite would result in the development of super-powers. Unfortunately, I had no spidey-senses, couldn’t shoot webs from my wrists, and try as I might, was not able to climb up the side of buildings.

Not awesome.

The next day as we set out on the road back towards the bluegrass state, I was unfortunately still feeling pretty shitty. I presumed it was the lingering effects of my death-spider head massage, but if you remember, nothing is ever simple with me. As it turns out, I was feeling increasingly terrible thanks to the beginning stages of an abscessed tooth.

That, my friends, is the mother of all awesome.

There are a few humorous-at-my-own-expense stories I could tell you in relation to this ailment, but I’m not going to. It would take too long and I simply can’t relive the trauma. Suffice it to say, I have never felt pain quite that intense before and although it didn’t kill me, there were times I was wishing for the sweet release of death. One tear-filled trip to the doctor and several drugs later, I am on the mend and finally feeling close to my former self. While I may still be chewing with only the right side of my mouth, I feel blessed to still be walking the earth.

On a happy note, I didn’t come away empty handed. During my vacation of near death experiences, Red purchased me this t-shirt!

And that, my friends, truly is awesome.

Until next time…

Loved by a soldier. We should all be so lucky.

My blog is typically where I like to share my often crass sense of humor. But for today’s post, I’m trading in my snark for sincerity. In honor of this very special holiday weekend, I’m choosing to take a moment to pay tribute to the soldier who loves me. (And if you indulge me this, you will be rewarded below with some of the cutest pictures you ever did see.)

Memorial Day gives Americans the opportunity to show our appreciation to the men and women who payed the ultimate price protecting our freedom. It’s the day where we come together as a community of people to say thank you, and more importantly, we remember.

But as the wife of a retired 1SG of the US Army, it is also a day where I feel profound thanks that MY soldier survived. He was in combat, and he came home. And because he came home, I got the chance to meet him, love him and share a wonderful life with him. Memorial Day reminds me how lucky I am.

I am loved by a soldier, and for that will be eternally grateful.

To celebrate him, and to celebrate this Memorial Day weekend, I’m sharing with you some photos I took from last Father’s Day. Me and the hubs traveled to Wisconsin last year to spend time with family, and while there, we created a mini bootcamp for the tikes in our troop. And they LOVED it.

Sidenote: These are not my kiddos. I cannot take any credit for their immense cuteness. I just photographed them. Enjoy.

^Rookie catching flack.^

^Learning field navigation.^

^Checking gig lines.^

^Scary.^

^Decidedly less scary.^

^Notice in the background, one of our soldiers attempting to go AWOL.^

Pro-Tip: When attempting to go AWOL, one can escape much faster if their pants are not around their ankles.

^The obstacle course included “live fire”.^

Be Army strong, and have a great holiday. I’ll be busy loving my soldier this weekend.