Because this is NOT him.

He does NOT wear a moustache.  Usually.

Usually he looks like this.

That is the face I prefer.

I find the moustache creepy; he looks smarmy and dishonest.   Like Hitler, but not.

Anyway, it’s not a good look.

But the moustache was for a good cause.  He was challenged by Scoutmob to grow a moustache for Movember, a moustache movement to bring awareness to cancers that affect men.  My husband loves a good challenge as much as he loves to bring public awareness to cancer.

Tomorrow he will shave the moustache and believe me, I’m counting the days.

Moustache kisses are scratchy.

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Moustache can be spelled 2 ways: moustache or mustache.  I just wanted y’all to know that I can spell and I wanted to go with the jauntier version.  Cause I’m cool like that.

© 2010 – 2011, Funkidivagirl.com. All rights reserved. Republished only with permission.

Yesterday my husband and I celebrated our 17th wedding anniversary.   That’s a loooooong time.   Long enough to finish each other’s sentences and long enough to think alike.

Out of all the cards available in the store, we both picked this one:

Isn’t that hilarious?

I was feeling a bit under the weather, so all romantic dinner plans were dashed and instead we spent the evening at home with friends.  Our kids played together while us grown folks danced in the kitchen to our favorite music.   The night was full of laughter, popsicles and cupcakes–all of my favorite things.

17 years is a loooong time, but if we can still laugh and have fun together, I say that we are doing alright.

2 great minds on a recent trip to Jamaica

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Another post about our anniversary that you may enjoy:

15 Years Ago We Said “I Do”

© 2010, Funkidivagirl.com. All rights reserved. Republished only with permission.

Today I’m participating in Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop: 4.) Describe a memorable Thanksgiving.

Before we lived in Atlanta and near extended family, we used to visit during Thanksgiving.  Sometimes we came to Atlanta to see my parents, sometimes we went to The Bay to see my husband’s family.  And sometimes we went to see Grandpa John.

Grandpa John was my husband’s grandfather, on his mother’s side.  He lived in Santa Maria, California.  If you don’t know about Santa Maria, then you’re in good company; I knew nothing about Santa Maria until I met Grandpa John.  I still don’t know much except that it’s a quintessential small town full of real-live cowboys.   My mother-in-law had a horse while growing up (that she bought with baby-stting money) and she used to barrel race in rodeos.  Oh, and it’s the home of Tri-Tip Barbecue.  That part is important because my husband loves Tri-Tip.

Grandpa John’s personal history is rich.  How he left Germany, found an Italian bride, made his way to California and built a successful business is best told by my mother-in-law, but I can tell you that he was a kind man who delighted in his grandchildren (including me, the in-law) and great grandchild.  He still had a German accent and like most grandparents of a certain age, he seemed a bit be-fuddled by the younger generation.  Visiting his sprawling ranch-style house for the weekend was relaxing, and a bit amusing too.   His second wife (a Santa Maria native and as I’ve been told, a far cry from his beloved deceased Italian bride) always looked a little shell-shocked at seeing her house suddenly fill with black people, who are, let’s face it, pretty scarce in Santa Maria.

Grandpa John was grandfatherly.  Dependable.    He sent my husband a birthday check for $75 every year, until he had a great-grandson and then the birthday check became his.   He helped my husband (then boyfriend) buy a car.  He bailed him out of jail (now that is a story.)

Grandpa John was in remarkable shape for a man his age, but when he finally got sick, he deteriorated  quickly.  On a Wednesday in November we got the call that it wouldn’t be long now.  I remember that we were shopping at the Beverly Center.

What a difference a few months make.  The man we last saw, vibrant and healthy, wasn’t there when we arrived in Santa Maria.   I had never seen a person close to death before, but it was obvious that Grandpa John didn’t have much longer to live.

I put my son, then age 2, down for a nap while one by one the family said good-bye.

And just as Grandpa John took his last breath, which was not quiet like in the movies, but very laborious and loud, my son awoke from his nap and wandered into the room.

I do not think this was a coincidence, the newest family member up and walking while the oldest passed away.    It was if my son was an angel alter boy, ushering Grandpa John into heaven.

Arrangements had already been made and there wasn’t going to be a funeral.   As much as I hate funerals, I do see the purpose; it gives people something to do.   Because now we had nothing to do.

It was Thanksgiving Day.

It did not seem on the surface that we had much to be thankful for.

But.

Marie Callender’s was open for dinner.   They also have good pie.  We were thankful for food (and pie).

We went to the beach.   I am always thankful for the ocean; it is an awesome beauty.

It was also our anniversary.   We were thankful for our marriage.

I was thankful for being able to comfort my husband.  My husband was thankful for being able to comfort his mother.

And most importantly, we were all thankful for Grandpa John.  It was an honor to know him while alive, and it was a great privilege to see him die.

Visit Mama Kat’s Losin It to write a prompt of your own.

© 2010, Funkidivagirl.com. All rights reserved. Republished only with permission.

*Today I am participating in Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop by answering the prompt: 4.) Link up and show us something you’ve created for Halloween, anything qualifies…costumes, recipes, crafts, party invites, treats, decorations etc..

Girly is an apple this Halloween.  No, she’s not a piece of fruit, she’s an Apple brand product.

Get it?

An iPhone 4, to be exact.

See the earbuds dangling from her head and the apps on her chest?  Those are actually the apps on my phone.

She thought of this costume all by herself; I just executed her design.  I swear.

Really, I dunno where she gets this stuff.  ;-)

Visit Mama Kat’s Losin It to write a prompt of your own.

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Other posts about Halloween that you may like:

Halloween = Candy

© 2010, Funkidivagirl.com. All rights reserved. Republished only with permission.

*Today I am participating in Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop by answering the prompt: 4.) A long drive…

My kids travel well in the car.  My husband will drive several hours without a complaint.  Me?–I hate long drives and start to lose it quickly if anything goes wrong.  And something always goes wrong.  Here are two videos from long family drives.  I like to record the craziness, to legitimize my fall-outs.

April, 2009: We’re on another road trip to Florida; this time to Orlando to see our favorite mouse.  The problem is, everyone has the same idea and traffic is ridiculous.  If you follow me on Twitter, you would see that I’m not handling it too well either.  The kids, they’re fine; it’s me who’s going crazy.  So in an effort to get my mind off the fact that we have traveled five miles in one hour, I made a video.

But that wasn’t the first or only time that we acted a fool on a long ride.  This happened right after Christmas 2008: This was supposed to be a simple road trip to Savannah; a mere 4 hours away from Atlanta.  Our goal was to leave about 8:00 a.m, but since I was wiped out from Christmas, I didn’t even finish packing until about 10:00 a.m.  We started loading the car about 11:00 a.m. and that was when our road trip comedy of errors began–our rental car was too small for our luggage.  What do we do?  Watch and see:

Yeah, I would think twice about taking any long drives with us!

Visit Mama Kat’s Losin It to write a prompt of your own.

© 2010, Funkidivagirl.com. All rights reserved. Republished only with permission.