Adventures in Being Myself

It's time to lighten the mood in this joint. It is Friday, after all, and who wants to ride ickiness into the weekend? Not me. So, here are two brand-spankin'-new photos of my boys. It's too bad they really don't like each other very much. PG - 43 years, Zane - 17 months Nice try, but no. We are not cutting Zane's hair. EVER.

PG's first OFFICIAL Father's Day This photograph makes me smile. Zane at 6 months. PG at 42 years.

PG snapped these shots last Friday, just after returning from shooting his first movie! While on set, he was able to use all of the super-cool bells & whistles on his "big" camera and fully maximize his creativity through techniques like "temperature shooting" (instead of white-balance shooting, because flash photography is a definite no-no when the panavision cameras are rolling...). These shots are an example of temperature shooting, using only ambient light and NO FLASH! It was a harmonic convergence of PG's creativity and Zane's hambone-ness.

Check out the tonsorial stylings of my men: Zane at 5-1/2 months. PG at 42 years.

This is what happens when Big Papa gets Zane dressed for the day. They are such hambones.

Look Mama! I'm swimmin'! ...okay, not really, but he seems to love the water. Of course, it was heated to 96 degrees - much like a bath - and he was with his Papa (Mama was taking pictures...) Look at that sweet face...I just love his crooked little grin in this shot. See those clenched fists? He is starting to unclench them now, just as "the book" said he would. He is growing so fast! My two very handsome fellas!

About one year into our blissful togetherness, Peegie and I agreed that we would make our Valentine's Day gifts to each other. Peegie is extremely creative . Over the last eight years, I have received Chippendale's calendars customized with pictures of Peegie's face juxtaposed onto the dancers' bodies; Peegie Picnics; a hand-drawn hieroglyphic that says "Peegie and Paige, Best Friends Forever;" and many other equally imaginative and thoughtful gifts. Peegie is also a planner , which means that major holidays never sneak up on him. Even Valentine's Day, with the whole "let's make the gifts" thing. He is always prepared, and always knocks my socks off with a handmade gift that tops the gift from the year before. I am neither creative, nor a planner. Despite the fact that Valentine's Day happens every year on February 14, somehow I always end up in a panic on February 13, no handmade gift and, even worse, no good ideas. Clearly, Peegie is ...

Having an 8-week-old baby in the house means that Peegie and I experience the 5:00AM hour quite frequently. Like most people, neither Peegie nor I find much humor in the 5:00AM hour. All of that changed this morning. We have established a pretty good nursing/sleeping routine for Zane: nurse at 10:00PM/11:00PM, burp, swaddle, comfort, kiss repeatedly, down to sleep until 4:00AM/5:00AM. When Zane awakens to nurse, Peegie gets up with him to change his diaper and brings him to me to nurse. This morning, as they came back into the bedroom, Peegie was laughing convulsively. At 5:00AM. Zane loves to be swaddled. He is a snuggler and will immediately settle into sleep when swaddled. Apparently, he also loves to stretch . Hence the convulsive laughter at 5:00AM this morning. As Peegie began unwrapping Zane to change his diaper, Zane began stretching and groaning (the type of groan that generally accompanies a good stretch...) The groaning and stretching continued in perfect harmony as Peegie ...

On my way back to the office after a lovely and delicious birthday lunch with friends, I stopped at home to drop off birthday balloons and (hopefully) give my man a quick peck on the cheek. As I entered the house, I heard water running and assumed Peegie was taking a shower. But, oh no, this is the scene that greeted me. So, what DO you do when you walk in on your boyfriend as he is shaving his legs?? Laugh, of course, then take pictures and then post them to the internet!! At least he is a hottie.

One of my most favorite memories of our trip to Michigan is Camp Arcadia, a Lutheran Family Retreat along the shore of Lake Michigan. Peegie spent two weeks there every summer from the age of 9 until he was a sophomore in college. I have heard about this magical place for longer than 8 years now, and it was high time that I see it for myself. It was nothing like I imagined it would be. It was better. The grounds are lush and green and shaded by beautiful trees. The beaches are sandy and the dunes and bluff ripe for climbing. It was easy to see why Peegie, Mom LeB, Aunt Rochelle, Aunt Marlene, Uncle Marlowe and Derek and Dawn love it so. More than just the natural beauty of its location, I loved seeing my beloved's face light up as we walked the grounds and he recalled stories from childhood - raging bonfires on the beach, climbing the north bluff, petoskey hunting, playing games in the Wigwam... The picture at the top right is titled "New Friends Familiar Places" because...

The Mackinaw City Bridge (aka Mackinac Bridge) is a suspension bridge spanning the Straits of Mackinac to connect the Uppper and Lower peninsulas of Michigan. Interestingly, the Mackinac Bridge is one of only two segments of Interstate 75 that is tolled. The other segment is Alligator Alley, nary 30 miles south of where we live. Yet another Florida-Michigan connection, but I digress...apparently crossing the Mackinac Bridge is really scary...or, so we had been warned. Upon seeing the bridge, I really didn't get what all the fuss is about. I mean, I live in Florida, surrounded on all sides by water and I regularly travel across long, tall bridges that span deep water. And crossing the Mackinac bridge, even on the back of a motorbike, proved to be no big deal (sorry, Mom LeB!) The picture at left shows our perspective as was traveled south from St. Ignace into Mackinaw City. See? Nothing scary about. Well, there was one sort-of scary thing about the bridge: the inside lane is const...

Life really IS a bowl of cherries (and blueberries...and raspberries...), especially if you happen to be touring Northern Michigan on a BMW GS 1200 in mid-July. As a native Floridian, my impressions of Michigan are largely shaped by the enormous flock of snowbirds that annually flies south on Interstate 75, usually in some form of van or minivan moving at a snail's pace in the left lane. My one and only trip to Michigan - a short weekend trip to Detroit for the Auto Show in early January - did little to convince me that Michigan is anything other than a cold, dirty, grey, industrial wasteland where people speak with a terribly unfortunate accent and suffer from a severe case of sour grapes in college football. On the flipside, I have many good friends who hail from the Wolverine State and wax poetic about the natural beauty of their home state. My love was born in Cheboygan and spent the first three years of his life there while his Pop was stationed aboard the USCG Mackinaw. He al...

I miss you, 143, xxoo

Today is Phil's birthday. He is 41; though, to look at him, you would swear he is not a day older than 31 (and I'm not just saying that because I think he's the hottest man on the planet...) Last year, we celebrated the big 4-OH! with a swanky party in Tallahassee. It was the first time Phil had been feted on his birthday and, since it WAS a milestone birthday, I went all out: yummy catering from M.A.D. About Food; boozy libations; sweet tunes from our favorite local band, The Recliners; and legions of friends and family surrounding the birthday boy with love and good wishes on his special day. Today, on the day of the big 4-ONE! I am in Tallahassee and Phil is at home in Fort Myers. The key clause in that sentence is "Phil is at home in Fort Myers." Yes, HOME. In FORT MYERS. The irony of that reality struck me as I was driving north on the 75, heading to Tallahassee for yet another week of Special Session/committee meetings. In the year since the "40 Is The ...

So proclaimed my love this afternoon while standing at our kitchen counter, eating a turkey sub from Firehouse Subs . The impetus for his proclamation? A stunningly beautiful day. The sky is so blue it looks like a painting. The sun is high and bright, and there is a lovely (albeit a bit robust...) breeze bathing our house in fresh, clean, crisp air. It's still chilly, mind you, but I'm back in my flip-flops. Life is good.

One of the more kickass perks to living in Southwest Florida is Spring Training. Now that Phil and I are living together in Fort Myers, I am looking forward to those six glorious weeks in February and March when the weather is bee-YOO-tee-ful, the baseball is less expensive and we mortals have a better than decent chance of seeing our favorite baseball players upcloseandpersonal at Cru. Sure, February and March are still a long way off; but Spring Training tickets went on sale this week. In Fort Myers, much like my hometown of Clearwater, we have a choice of teams. You can tell from the photo which team we choose. The photo was taken - by the hat vendor - at Fenway Park last April. It was my first trip to Fenway. I was a tad excited. So excited, in fact, that I hugged our ticket collector on my way through the turnstile. Phil, ever Johnny-on-the-Spot with a digital camera, snapped a photo. I'm all teeth. The poor ticket collector bears a look of sheer terror. The hat vendor was...