Meredith Carson... Across the Pond and Back Again...

I just returned from the Glorious South.   I did not realize how much I missed it there until I was, after the longest Michigan winter ever, re-immersed in its sunshine and flip flops and sweet tea.   Down South little girls wear floral dresses and have names like Lisa Marie and Tori Rae.   Their mamas have perfect pink toenails, carry Vera Bradley bags, and say things like, “Come on, Mary Martin, nobody has time for this hissy fit today.” Ladies lunch outdoors and smile pleasantly at my three year old who is dancing around the restaurant patio whilst hopped up on chocolate milk and cheesecake.   They notice the concerned expression on my face and say, “Honey, don’t you worry a thing about her!   She is just precious.” And I reply, “Oh!   I just love your accent!   I used to live down here but now I’m up in Michigan, and…” my voice trails off. They exchange mutual “bless her heart” glances and look back at me with eyes full of symp...

Eleven years isn't so very long, but I am now a different person than I was then.  Eleven years ago I was twenty four years old, and I had rainbows in my eyes.  The future that I pictured was a perfect continuation of the fairy tale that had begun to blossom in my imagination.  Perfect fairy tales, however, are rather boring, and we learn very little when everything is perfect . Superficially I didn't have any wrinkles or stretch marks eleven years ago.  I had never spent a sleepless night taking care of someone else.  The girl in the picture above didn't know a whole lot about selfless giving.  For the record the girl sitting at the keyboard typing still has quite a bit to learn on that topic. When I looked, mesmerized, into my brand new husband's face eleven years ago, I never imagined that I could gaze upon him and feel anything less than euphoria.  Eleven years ago I was well-rested, and his pranks were always adorable.  His raggedy Ba...

I feel quite stupid posting this today, but I have come to a very profound conclusion in the last couple of weeks. I feel stupid because the conclusion is not really profound at all, and it has taken me years of marriage to wrap my brain around it. I always thought I was a pretty clever girl, but this one has taken me a while. I have discovered the secret to a happy marriage. Don't get me wrong; the last eight years have been mostly very happy ones. My husband and I enjoy each others company. We appreciate the other's sense of humour. He "gets" me, and I "get" him. But I have secretly been driving him crazy for years. You see, George is rather tidy, and I am a bit more free spirited. I fail to notice that my nightgown has been hanging on the bedpost for three weeks or that I have left the drawer in the kitchen open again. When I look into the room, my eyes don't even focus on the cereal box on the table or the book that I was reading left lying on the fl...