Redneck Love Letters

The apple of his black eye.

The apple of his black eye.

Jack and I had a fantastic wedding over the weekend with lots of romantic and redneck (at times) moments.

When Jack and I were getting back together, he did a heck of a job courting me. He bought me flowers and Midol when I was “under the weather”, made me some mean breakfasts (he still does this), and wrote me love letters on sticky notes.

Swooon, right?

Here are a few mildly romantic, and 100% redneck love letters I have tucked away. They STILL make me smile.

Profanity warning: I’ve married a sailor.

Redneck love letter 3

Yes, that IS a bow and arrow.

This is the card that accompanied the flowers and Midol. “Just because . . . you’re bitchy and crampy.”

Redneck love letter 5

. . . What the?

Redneck love letter 1

Construction Worker Syndrome: Jack likes to add emphasis with the “F” word

Redneck love letter 6

Never happened.

Redneck love letter 4

Again, I apologize for my husband’s lack of filter. He just really “F’ing” loves me, and I love him too!

Kindergarten-level drawing skills and all.

He Don’t Dance

Prehistoric Bird in Flight Dancing is hard when you have wings.

Prehistoric Bird in Flight
Dancing is hard when you have wings.

Jack is installing flooring in our office today. He tells me it has slowly migrated to one side as he works his way across the room. His plan? Cut little pieces to fill the holes at the wall and then hopefully cover it up with baseboards.

Believe it or not, I call this a win. He’s still Jack of Most Trades to me.

Something I will admit Jack hasn’t mastered: the art of dance. He is learning to partner dance quite successfully; he spins and lifts me like a pro (look out wedding dance), but when it comes to the solo it’s sort of awkward watching him.

Just so I don’t get in trouble here, I should also state I had the idea for this post a few weeks back and Jack’s dancing skills have improved immensely.

Let’s take a trip back to January, shall we?

As some of you may know, I lived and breathed dance from the time I was 4 years old until I graduated high school, and have regained an obsession of dance through weekly Zumba classes over the past year. I know a little bit about dance steps and would say I would be able to teach them to ALMOST anyone. I also believe my dance skill evaluation abilities to be true and accurate.

The description that best fits Jack’s “moves” would boil down to: “Prehistoric Bird in Flight”.

One evening I was pleasantly surprised to hear of Jack’s openness to trying a few dance moves, so I seized the opportunity. My mistake.

We began with a basic 3-step move named the “chasse”, literally meaning “to chase”. When it was finally clear to me Jack was not a natural born dancer, I decided to mess with him a little. We followed the chasse with the pique and the jete, two steps that if attempted by an uncoordinated man, could appear bird-like.

Remember: a good wife always sets her husband up to entertain herself. If I truly respected him, I would have taken a video and uploaded it to YouTube so all my Laughers could bask in the glory. I did not do this. But if you’re curious about the dance steps, look up the words in the French-English Dictionary or the Ballet Glossary to aid in your imaginative journey.

Oddly enough, Jack had already perfected the plié by the time we reached that part of our lesson. I chalked it up to beginners luck and moved on (even though I was tempted to teach him the grande plié, for the mere fact that I haven’t seen him rip the crotch out of his wranglers in a few weeks). By this time the pain in my core was agonizing from laughing uncontrollably, and we ended the lesson on a positive note.

Jack undergoes a certain amount of harassment from me (clearly), but one of the things I love about him is he never gives up. He understands dancing at our wedding is important to me, and he would do anything to make me smile. Even if this means his tough guy reputation is shattered.

Jack may be a pterodactyl, but he’s mine, and in one month I’ll rightly be referred to as Mrs. Pterodactyl.

Movers and Shakers

Brighten someone's day

Brighten someone’s day

I’m outing you, opinionated social media world. You hide behind your screen and don’t give a second thought to the repercussions of the written word. You will not stop until there is blood, because you are convinced you are right. Even if you realize you’re not exactly right, you’ve come this far degrading others and opposing their opinions, and an injured ego is not on your agenda.

What IS on your agenda is somehow getting ahead in this world through angry comments and bullying. Sometimes, you might even be successful in this endeavour.

I have painted a rather solemn picture.

Now, imagine a world where none of this existed. Maybe Matthew was on to something with the whole “Love thy neighbour” premise. What if we could only verbalize and write those thoughts that brightened someone’s day? What if our only actions were those that improved the lives of others? Where would that leave us?

The journey to success would evolve as lies and deceit were erased from the equation. A successful member of society would perhaps not be wealthy or famous, but rich in friendships and surrounded by love.

If you feel overwhelmed by the “solemn picture”, it could be your day to empower yourself to lead society to change. Be a mover, or a shaker, but always love thy neighbour.

Baby, I’m in Love With Someone Else


What? You mean you thought it was another man?


I’m in love with someone who isn’t my fiancé.

Before you start judging, let me explain  .   .   .

I bet it’s even happened to you a time or two!

Last weekend, I met my niece for the very first time. She’s got a decent set of lungs on her and a temper that would have Bruce Willis shaking. I have seen babies before, and when they aren’t “yours” (closely related to you), they aren’t very exciting. Let’s be honest here: they look like little sleeping aliens. When their eyes ARE open, you wonder what information they are skimming from your brain to relay to their Mother Ship. My niece is different. She is scrawny and hairy, but the most gorgeous human being EVER. If you don’t agree, I will fight you.

I’m not exactly “Nanny McPhee” so naturally, I was nervous to hold her for the first time. The last thing you want to do is drop a baby. People get mad for some reason. The moment she was placed in my arms, my nerves settled, I melted, and then I cried. I fell in love with that squirmy, jaundiced, adorable little girl. I kissed her over 100 times over the course of a couple of hours. Someone call up Guiness, I’m convinced that’s a world record.

She’s not my fiancé, but she stole Auntie’s heart.