Author Archives: Mecca Trueblood

Our days are happier when we give people a bit of our heart rather than a piece of our mind. – Pinterest

I rolled over early this morning and found my favorite place…Fred’s shoulder. Threw my leg over his and sighed. Now before you start thinking “TMI” rest assured that I’m keeping this PG.

Do you have a spot like that…a place where EVERYTHING in the world is right? Where you know you’re safe? That’s been Fred’s shoulder for me. He wraps his arm around me and usually starts playing with my hair..which somehow must be one of the most comforting things on earth. It reminds me of my mom doing the same thing when I was a little girl…and I know peace for a few unadulterated precious moments.

Now life is really good if Fred doesn’t expect me to start talking. I mean really. It’s EARLY. Shhh. Be quiet. The only words I have this early in the morning sound frightenly similar to Duck Dynasty’s Phil Robertson, “nah” [insert a Phil No].

It wasn’t always that way. No, Fred used to be the morning grunter. The years have changed us…or maybe reversed us. I used to be the early riser and the morning talker. In fact, to save the marriage, we learned pretty quickly that we could not spend our early mornings with each other. Fred used to be a slow starter…like don’t-talk-to-him-for-oh-maybe-the-first-3-hours slow start. Now, I’m used to waking up after Fred’s gone to work and having the house to myself…just me and Good Morning America and a few moments with the Old Man (our 16 year old OLD dog-who’s lasted longer than lots of marriages).

 

The Old Man
The Old Man

 Mornings are quiet. I find sometimes that I either haven’t spoken at all or I find myself carrying on a conversation with myself just for the company! But it sure is a nice morning when it began in my favorite spot. With a few moments of just pure peace.

So what about you…where’s your favorite spot? Your safe place? Does your early morning start with any Duck Dynasty sounding quacks?

Fred & Wilma

Well, I wouldn’t exactly call him “The Marlboro Man” like Rea Drummond’s hubby of The Pioneer Woman fame or the old ad. He got the nickname Fred because years ago in a crowded room, if I called his name, he never heard me, but I could almost whisper, “Fred” and he’d immediately turn around & look at me…expectantly. It stuck….because it worked. Every time.

Wilma didn’t stick to me as well. He tried. It just didn’t stick.

Fred & I have been together 30 years. Go figure. Didn’t actually see that one coming. I’d planned to be The Best Aunt Alive. Single. Wildly successful. Then Fred’s sister introduced us one evening and I watched him bend down and throw rocks in the lake with his 3-year old son and I was gone. Plans changed. 30 years. Fast. Real fast!

Then there’s Gig…nope, not the Aggie kind, the giggle kind. I don’t know. It just happened. Gig is this beautiful, talented graphic designer engaged to be married to “The Beau.” She’s fun and funny and we’ve decided to keep her….versus trade her in on something different. She’s my first born and my daughter. Strong and kind.

Boo is my son: all 6 foot 6 of him. Gentle, kind, maybe a little crazy. Boo tends bar. He has a way with people. Maybe it’s the six foot of him, or maybe it’s that he has this incredible ability to accept people and remain calm when chaos reins all around. He gives the best hugs ever!

They are who I’ll share with you in little moments of time…Vignettes of our life. There are more…but the Vignette isn’t set yet.

Do you have a nickname – one that just stuck? A funny story about it? Do tell.

Where I Come From…

Yesterday, I read an article about how “researchers at Emory did a study showing how kids who know their family history have a greater belief that they could control their world and a higher degree of self-confidence. It was the number one predictor of a child’s emotional well-being.” My initial thought was that my daughter would be the one who would remember family history. Boy was I wrong!

Her fiance has traced his ancestors back to Thomas Jefferson. Then my daughter said she didn’t even know anything beyond her grandparents. What!?

So today, assuming that my son had ignored me all the time we’ve ever talked about family, I asked him the same question and WHOA! He knew more than me. He’s apparently done some research on my husband’s family…he knew his grandparent’s names and how many children and where they originated from (England) and that they were Quakers who left England because of persecution. I didn’t know that!

I think I’ll get him a membership to ancestry.com.

I’m fascinated by that kind of stuff. Little vingettes of life. History. So maybe it’s a hobby we can share together. And maybe someday, we’ll figure out if we have more than just English ancestry. (My daughter would like to be Irish and could probably pass for an Irish lass. But that’s another story for later.)

What about you? Where did you come from? Any skeletons in your ancestrial closets? Crazy Aunt Marthas?