Scoop Jackson

Today, two weeks from my first wedding anniversary and more than six years after we first got together, this man of mine never ceases to amaze me. I love his humor and the way he does things. I love how he constantly wants to take care of me, lightens the mood and how he has this incredible way of putting me in my place.

You see, I tend to think of myself as a fairly intelligent person. Now, David doesn't make me feel stupid, but when I have those moments where I'm totally and absolutely not using my brain (it actually happens to me a lot for how intelligent I think I am), he brings me back to earth.

For example, last night as I was writing my first entry for this little saga, I yelled to David, "Hey - name a famous sports writer."

"Me."

"Um, someone more famous than that."

I proceeded to Google "famous sports writers" and Google did not dissappoint. I was able to find a nice little list of sports writers. Again, I called out my redheaded man.

"Hey. Come in here and look at this list. Pick a name out."

"Why?"

"Just do it!" Yes, I was getting exhasperated. Sometimes I swear that boy likes to push my buttons just because he knows where they are and how hard to push.

"Ummmm. Ok. Well, Woody Paige is pretty well-known. So is Bill Plaschke and Scoop Jackson."

Scoop Jackson. I liked that one. It's a fun name - and if he's well-known, then I can make the connection easily that David is a sports writer. Great.

I went on with my writing and finished my entry for the evening. After I got done, David took his place at the computer and read my post (because I told him I had this fun idea for the blog, but wouldn't tell him what it was). Then, later that night after crawling into bed, I rolled over and said, "Hey, Scoop - love you."

To which David replied, "Yeah, why did you pick that one?"

"Because that's one of the names you listed off...." Duh.

"Yeah, but he's a big black guy."

Now, don't mistake that last comment for some kind of racial remark or put-down. This comment really stems more from the fact that my 130-pound, redheaded and white-as-a-ghost husband looks nothing like said Scoop Jackson.

Here I come - back to earth. My intelligence officially plumeting back to the planet with me. Ouch. Oh well - I still like the reference.

Anyway, Scoop and I grew up in the same town, and while we didn't attend the same grade schools, we did attend the same junior high and high school because all of the area grade schools dumped all of the kids together once we got to junior high.

My first real memories of David come from our junior high chorus class. Okay, okay - pick yourself up off the floor and stop laughing. Yes, we were both in chorus. In junior high, elective choices were extremely limited: shop, home economics, band and chorus.

I had no desire to build bird houses and tool boxes, and my mom used to teach high school home economics, and wouldn't let me take the junior high home economics under any circumstances. Since I couldn't read music, chorus was my last option. I'm not sure why David chose chorus...

Of course, the big move from grade school to junior high gave grandparents and parents automatic license to ask all kinds of probing questions about your classes and your friends.

"Chorus, huh? Who is in your class?"

I was obligated to list name after name after name. Then, I stumbled on to David's name.

"Oh, that little Torbert boy? How is he now? Is he feeling better? He was awfully sick, wasn't he? Can you tell that he was in the hospital? Is he nice? He's not still having problems, is he?"

I had no idea what they were talking about. We didn't go to the same grade school, so all I knew was there was a 90-pound, redheaded boy with a bowl hair cut in my class and he had a big scar on his neck. And, he had a Chicago Bulls t-shirt for every day of the week.

At that point in time, I wasn't remotely interested in boys - and I certainly wasn't interested in one that I outweighed by 50 pounds. Besides, as a big, tall girl (and, when I say tall, I mean I played middle blocker on my junior high volleyball team because I was the only one that didn't have to jump to make my hands clear the top of the net and I was taller than all of the boys in my class - or three classes, really) who wore cowboy boots and horse t-shirts to school, I didn't have many options anyway.

Funny how things change, isn't it?

Spicing things up.

I'm well aware that my blog has not been too exciting as of late. In fact, it has been downright boring. Travel plans and pictures of cakes aren't exactly topics that make you wiggle with anticipation.

So, I have decided that things need a little spicing up. The next question becomes, "How can I make things spicier?"

Then I remembered, my anniversary is right around the corner. And, while many of you know the abridged version of Annie Oakley meets Scoop Jackson (also known as the Rachel and David chronicles), I thought it might still be fun to do a little series about how we got together. Not only will this allow me to update more than once a month, but it should also work as an excellent service for all of you who have trouble sleeping - this might actually knock you out cold.

In all seriousness, though, sometimes we forget to remember the fun little things that "hooked" us at the very beginning of a relationship. Even though David and I have only been married a year, we've been together significantly longer and I don't want to forget those things that happened at the very start of our story. Honestly, I'm mere weeks away from marking my quarter-century point in life and I'm pretty convinced that, after this birthday, it's all downhill from here. In fact, I could be days away from dementia, so it's vitally important that I write this down.

But, before I begin, I owe all of you (okay, all five people that actually read this) a disclaimer:

This is not some tragic love story. Our story doesn't invovle fairytale love on the heels of some horrible event. And, it most certainly does not involve a giant, hulk of a man on a beautiful white horse sweeping some petite little princess off her feet. Shoot, my husband won't hardly touch a horse, let alone ride one. And, let's be honest, I'm the farthest thing from "petite" there is.

Still, we have a story. And, parts of it are funny.

More on that later....

I'm *cough* still *cough* here...*cough cough cough*

Ok - this time, I have a legitimate excuse for not updating. That's right - the flu finally caught up with me.

I'm not sure if it was regular flu, or of the H1N1 variety, but I was definitely out of commission either way. Last Wednesday, I came home from work coughing and feeling very, very cold. So, I decided to climb into to bed and watch TV for the rest of the evening, hoping to kick whatever it was that was brewing.

Unfortunately for me, that is not what happened. I woke up a few hours later, absolutely freezing and harboring a fever of 101.6. Thursday and Friday mornings, it was more of the same, so I called in sick to work both days to spare my coworkers from this nasty thing.

Of course, I did my best to pick a good time to be sick: David was gone and I was all by myself at home. That certainly makes it hard to run to the store for soup, jello and Diet Sprite.

I do have to say, though, this has been the strangest sickness I've dealt with in a long time. In fact, I can't remember the last time I had any kind of flu - it has been at least eight years, I'm sure. I had a fever, cough, my body ached and I was incredibly tired, but I was never sick to my stomach. Now that my fever has finally gone, I still have a terrible cough and congestion. Oh yeah - super fun.

My fever broke three days later - just in time for David's parents to stop by our place for a visit on their way back home from Denver. It was Denise's birthday on Sunday, so I made a big breakfast for John, Denise, David and I. I also made a big chocolate birthday cake.

This weekend, David and I are looking forward to a Halloween party at my coworker's house. For those of you that know us well, you'll enjoy our costume choice:

Eric and Donna from That '70s Show. Don't worry - I'll post pictures. We have yet to find the perfect wigs, but I think we're going to venture out tonight to see if we can find a long, red wig for me and a shaggy, brown wig for David.

After that, it's on to the next big weekend: Matt and Rachel's wedding on Nov. 7. David is heading home on Thursday afternoon and I'm going to head home on Friday. Then, depending schedules, I may be flying from home down to Oklahoma City for the AQHA World Show for work.

It's going to be a busy couple of weeks - I just hope my immune system can keep up!

Ideas, please.

Did you know that David and I have been married nearly a year? I can't hardly believe it myself. It seems like just yesterday that we were celebrating at our reception.

Just thinking about our anniversary makes me happy. Happy that David hasn't gotten bored with me. Happy to be so content with our life together. And, happy to be secure in the thought that there will be many more anniversaries.

However, the thought of our first anniversary also makes me a little sick. Yes - sick. I didn't stutter. Here's why:

David is an incredible gift giver. He's always been able to come up with amazing gifts for every occasion. He's always so thoughtful - and always gives gifts that I don't expect. It would be easy for him to ask me point blank and get whatever I suggest. Instead, he goes to the trouble of finding something amazing - and totally off my radar.

Not a problem, you say? Oh, trust me, it is.

It's a problem because I'm a TERRIBLE gift giver in every sense of the word. If I can think of anything at all, it is most likely completely ordinary and it is most definitely not exciting. Any gift I give David will be something that he's mentioned he might like to have a few times, and I can guarantee it won't be anything that he wasn't expecting.

In fact, David says he's already bought a gift for me (yes, several weeks ahead of time) and that one gift, specifically, is "wayyyyy cool" in his words.

How can I compete with that? I've tried to come up with things, but anything that happens to be exciting or unexpected that crosses my mind also happens to be close to a million dollars. Well, maybe not quite that much, but still relatively expensive.

So. That's it. I'm screwed.

Any good ideas for me?

Why do I have to come up with a headline anyway?

Sorry. One of the perils of working in public relations is that you have to come up with headlines on a daily basis. This wouldn't be so bad if I was good at it. Sadly, however, I'm not.

Thus, the headline for this post.

Anyway, I'll quit stalling - on with tonight's topics.

We're back to Nebraska again after another trip home. David and I decided this past weekend would be a good time to head home because....

Well, we didn't really have a good reason, we just wanted to go home. Kyle, David's best friend, was home for the weekend. David hadn't seen him since the wedding, so he wanted to make sure to see Kyle while he was in the area.

I was just along for the ride. Well, actually, I wanted to get home and see Grandpa. For those of you that don't know (I know I've made a few vague references here, but haven't posted anything detailed as of yet), doctors found a couple of tumors in my Grandpa Don a few weeks ago. The tumors were in his bladder and one of his kidneys.

After they found the first tumor, he had surgery so doctors could try to find out how aggressive the cancer was. The doctors don't seem to think it's too aggressive (and they completely removed the tumor in his bladder), but are waiting on tests to confirm a diagnosis and to decide whether to remove the rest of the tumor from his kidney or to just remove the entire kidney.

The last time I was home, the doctors had just discovered the tumor in his kidney, but hadn't operated yet, so it was nice to be able to go home (post-op) to see how Grandpa was doing.

Since many of you come from farms or farming families, I'm sure you'll understand that while the news from the doctors was somewhat positive, Grandpa is still a little down in the dumps. To prevent him from getting sick before another surgery, he's been staying at home, staring at the same four walls every day. For someone who is used to getting up and working outside every day, a TV screen and four walls have become pretty boring.

It's hard to see Grandpa depressed because I don't think I've ever seen it before - at least like this. I'll never forget the day my dad died. Grandpa met us at the hospital - he told us it was bad - and then he started crying. He was sad then, but it was a different kind of sad.

Don't get me wrong; I'm not saying that he's completely shut down to the world. But, it seems strange because it's so different from the "normal" Grandpa. Nearly all of my memories of Grandpa are of him smiling, teasing me or my sister, working outside, at the fair or busy in the kitchen. In fact, I can't think of one instance where Grandpa was sitting in a chair, watching TV for hours on end. He's always been so energetic and happy - and, at times, almost like a second father.

And, I'm sure that's why this seems to have been extremely hard for me, too. I know it's hard for everyone else - and maybe I'm selfish for not paying more attention or asking to see how the rest of the family is doing - but, I can't help it.

David keeps telling me everything will work out, and I'm going to stick to that thought, but I sure would appreciate your prayers anyway.

Being eight hours away from home - and not seeing your family on a daily basis - means that we couldn't just spend our entire weekend at Grandma and Grandpa's. We did spend some time with Kyle and his girlfriend, Katie. David also got to see his friend, Matt, while I spent some time at home checking out Mom and Chuck's new store and taking some pictures (big surprise, right?).

Mom and Chuck finally opened their store the last weekend in September, and while I was there on Saturday, they had several customers. For now, they're only open on the weekends, but after their open house on November 20, they'll be open during the week and on the weekends (yes, that was my shameless plug for their store - if you're ever in Clinton, drive the 15 minutes out to Chestnut to stop in).

Don't worry - I didn't limit my picture taking to the antique shop. You know I took pictures at the farm, too. This year's babies are growing up so fast - it really makes me wish I had more time to spend at home, riding.

All in all, it turned out to be a nice weekend, even though we weren't able to make the rounds to see everyone. But, Thanksgiving is right around the corner and we'll be home for a few extra days. Hopefully, we'll be able to squeeze everyone in!