Samber Christmas Letter

I strongly dislike the generic Christmas letters that get sent every year. They always wax poetic about how awesome their year has been and all the great adventures and vacations they have been able to go on...The letter is usually accompanied by a perfect picture of their perfect family.

My life isn't like that, far from it actually. So I wrote my version of a Christmas letter and sent it with a photo card that had our crazy family portrait. My life is far from perfect, but it's the imperfections and the mis-adventures that keep it interesting and like my dad always says, "It gives you character!" If that's the case, I have enough character for a Charles Dickens novel. Please read and enjoy the Samber Christmas Letter:

2012 has come and gone like a tornado, leaving a path of frizzy, graying destruction behind. Oops, actually that's just a description of my hair. Sam started the year by taking two classes and a lab since he wasn't busy enough with the two jobs. He won 2 academic achievement awards! I told him he was too pretty to be so smart. While he was working his cute tushy off in school, I started a Facebook war over my pro-gay rights beliefs and promptly quit Facebook and all of its silliness. We are both such productive people. In March, we tested the strength of Sam's hip by climbing two mountains in Gatlinburg. We determined that Sam's new hip is awesome and I'm an un-fit, fat kid on the inside. I consoled myself with 54oz of beer, slipping into a blissful beer coma at our hotel, best nap ever! During the summer we took trips to see my brother in North Carolina and my parents in Tennessee. Such exotic locations for vacations, I know. You should be jealous of the non-tan I got in Oxford, North Carolina! We got a roommate for 7 months, Annie. She was a former intern at Southface and needed a place to stay. She helped me cook and clean so I jokingly referred to her as my sister-wife. Polygamy has some advantages. After our water hose was tampered with, we decided to install a privacy fence. I wanted to install a moat but Sam told me we couldn't afford to have alligators flown in from Florida. I was disappointed, of course, but consoled myself by getting a guard-puppy instead. Bruce Banner McFarland, our pit-lab mix, was a great addition to the family even though Squeaky, our cat, completely disagrees. I forgot that puppies tend to pee a lot and never where they are supposed to pee. Several hundred rolls of paper towels later, he is successfully potty-trained. Unfortunately, Squeaky is still plotting his demise by knocking our home-grown jalapenos to the floor for him to eat. Fortunately, since Bruce is a McFarland he has a natural affinity for capsaicin. Sam took Bruce up Arabia Mountain for a hike and came down with a second puppy that had been abandoned by jerk-face, nincompoops. On October 15th, we officially added Willa Arabia McFarland, another pit-lab mix to our family. Squeaky tried to veto our decision but his inability to speak English prevented him from having a say. To celebrate our second wedding anniversary, Sam and I spent a weekend in Savannah. I was disappointed to realize ghosts didn't come with our inn. You have to pay extra for hauntings and I'm too cheap. We still managed to have a lovely, albeit ghost-free, stay. November, for the Samber Clan, has historically been a “fun” month. By “fun”, I mean torturous and expensive. November 2010, we experienced 3 separate water leaks causing a partial ceiling collapse. I don’t remember last November but something expensive probably happened and that’s why I can’t remember. This November, my car broke down. While it went through a couple of different mechanics to be fixed, Sam’s Jeep broke down. One rental car, 2 mechanics, 3 tow truck trips, and 4 years off our lives later, we were back to being a two-car, gas guzzling couple like God unintended.

Despite our misadventures, Sam and I are still incredibly lucky. We have in each other, a wonderful and supportive partner. I don’t think either of us could ask for a better person. Through the roughest of times, we hold hands and make inappropriate jokes to keep each other going. We also have our loving families. I know that I would not have made it through certain parts of this year without my parents, whom I adore. We also have surrounded ourselves with some great friends in Atlanta and have some amazing friends up in Tennessee that we always look forward to seeing. We might not be in the state that we want to be in (physically and figuratively) but we have built a life together, along with our furry children that we love. Please feel free to come and visit anytime. By “feel free” and “anytime”, I mean with a minimum 6 month notice sent in with a formal, notarized request and a money order of $350 to cover our expenses and mental health recovery from your visit. Just kidding but not really J

We hope that you and your family have a wonderful holiday season! If we don’t get to personally see you during the holidays, know that we are with you in spirit…in a non-creepy way.

Love,

Sam, Amber, Bruce, Willa, and Squeaky McFarland

(P.S. please do not be offended by my sarcasm. It’s an inherited disorder so blame my parents)

Hiking Arabia

Sam's birthday was a couple of weeks ago and he wanted to do something outside. It was a gorgeous fall day so I was all for it. We packed up the dogs and got our backpacks together and off we went. Arabia Mountain is only a few miles from our house so it didn't take us long to arrive. Willa jumps in and out of the Jeep by herself. Bruce acts like he is going to but then thinks about it too much and balks. So he, the heavier of the two, get lifted in and out of the Jeep. We started off hiking with me walking Willa and Sam walking Bruce. However, Willa, having been abandoned on that mountain, knew her way around and pulled me the entire time. So we switched. Bruce tends to be slightly more of a relaxed walker. He gets distracted by things to smell very easily, which gives me a chance to catch my breath. Arabia is gorgeous, especially in the fall. There are two different small lakes and several old buildings that are made from the quarried rock of the mountain. The beautiful thing about them is that nature is taking the structures back over. Which just goes to show that we need nature, nature doesn't need us. In fact, nature would probably be much happier if we all went away. When it came time toward the end of the trip to hike up the small mountain, we switched dogs and I allowed Willa's energetic little body to pull me up the mountain. It was awesome! Once to the top, we took a snack break and just took in the clean air and surrounding landscape. I feel so much cleaner when I'm out of the city. I can breather easier, think clearer, I just feel better. We came back down from the mountain and I baked Sam a chocolate birthday cake and chili. We ate, drank beer, and watched the best episode of Walking Dead ever. It was a great birthday for Sam and a great day for us as a family.
Here's some photos:

Frankenpie

I needed to go to Aldi's on Tuesday to pick-up one thing for dinner so I called Sam on my way home from work to ask if he'd like to come with me. He said he would, so I picked him up and away we went to grab one thing for dinner. We arrived and I automatically gravitated to the wine section. Aldi's sells pretty good wine for really cheap and I was out so 6 bottles of cabernet went into the cart. I concentrated more on grabbing staples and wine counts as a staple in our household. Don't judge me, red wine is good for my heart...and my stress level. Sam kept getting distracted by all the novelty items Aldi's sells, especially around the holidays...and he was hungry. Big mistake. When I wasn't looking, he'd put three boxes of cereal in the cart. I grabbed pasta sauce, he grabbed three different kinds of specialty German mustards. While I was loading the cart with toilet paper and fresh vegetables, he was distracted by the pie filling selection. All of sudden, he said, "Honey! Look, blueberry pie filling! You can make a pie!!!!" I told him I didn't know how to make a pie and kept shopping, thinking he'd put the can back on the shelf. Nope. "I can make a pie" he said "Where's the pie crust?" I pointed to the back and kept shopping. Before I knew it, he had grabbed the blueberry and apple pie filling as well as the crust. "Honey! Do we have a pie pan?" We don't but I figured a round cake pan wasn't that much different. We finally made it out of the store after dropping over $100. At least I got the kielbasa for the jambalaya...the one thing I actually needed. We get home and while I work on dinner, Sam works on his crazy concoction...which he has named Frankenpie. He let out a couple of devilish laughs while arranging the pie crust...it was a bit disturbing how well he constructed the pie, having never made one before. But at this point in our relationship, I'm rarely surprised by the things he can do. After 40 minutes in the oven, the blueberry/apple Frankenpie was done. And it was awesome!!! The crust was cooked to flaky perfection, the filling was weirdly good considering the mix. I had warned Sam that if the Frankenpie was a success, he had created a family tradition that I would demand every Halloween from here on out. After my first bite, the tradition was firmly cemented in the McFarland family. Can't wait to taste it again next year!

 Here's the pie before more sugar and spices went on top. He also curved the smile more after I took this picture. 

Here it right out of the oven, smiling at me with a twisted expression...it was so tasty!!!

Sometimes You Get What You Wanted

So Sam took Bruce hiking on Arabia Mountain last week. We want to take him camping with us in the future so Arabia is an easy practice run. While there, he stopped by the visitors' center. The lady who worked there saw Bruce's cute face and told Sam that she had found an abandoned puppy that looked a lot like Bruce. Sam took a look at her and she seemed very sweet. Animal Control was on their way to come get her when Sam called me at work to tell me about her. "Take her!" I said! "I want her, don't let Animal Control have her!" So Sam took her home. We didn't know her back story, obviously, so that Saturday I took her to Sam's work to get her scanned for a microchip. The whole time between Wednesday and Saturday, I was trying to not get too attached to her. Which was incredible hard to do considering she followed me everywhere, wanted nothing more than be cuddled, and would fall asleep with her head in my lap. So when we did get her scanned, we found out she did have a microchip and my heart sank. I did the right thing, called her microchip company and gave them my contact information to forward to her owner. That was Saturday. No one called all weekend. We were officially in limbo. Fortunately  they both fit inside the same crate, we had a pink collar for her to wear, and plenty of puppy food. I even had a new name for her. The microchip company told me her official name was Pen, which I instantly hated. On Monday morning, a strange number called and I hesitated answering but did anyway. The woman on the other end told me she just got a message that I had her dog. My heart, hanging out above my stomach since Saturday, sank even lower. I told her we did have her at our house and she was healthy and happy. The woman then told me how she had adopted her from a kill shelter but her HOA made her give the puppy away due to her pit heritage. ***Sam has been in the veterinary field for over ten years and has never encountered a vicious pit. He has been bitten by a Pomeranian and a Boston terrier, but all pits he has met have been well-behaved, sweet animals. Pits, like all other animals and children are victims of circumstance more often than they are victims of genetics.*** Anyway, she had done her best to find what she thought was a good home. But apparently her energy may have been too much for them so they removed her collar and let her loose around Arabia Mountains bike paths. The woman was relieved that I ended up with her and I was able to get more information about her history. The puppy's birthday was April 29 (my birthday!!!), she was up-to-date with shots and had been spaid. She promised to try and get her paperwork sent over to me from the shelter and that I could consider her officially mine!!! I breathed a big sigh of relief. I can't wait to go home and give Willa Arabia McFarland a big hug! Willa, by the way, is named in honor of the Arabia Mountain employee that took her in, Willette. When Sam and I first discussed getting puppies, we wanted 2, a boy and a girl. When we got Bruce, they wouldn't let us have 2 at the same time that were the same age. We were disappointed but decided we could a get a girl later. I never expected for it happen quite this way, but I'm glad it did. Willa has a stable, happy home and I have my girl!

Now for some photos!!! Willa is the one with a pink collar and a white chest and paws.

 

Crazy Mornings

I finally, somewhat, mostly got Bruce on a morning routine. I let him out of the crate, we go outside, he does his business, we go have some breakfast, Annie comes downstairs, Bruce attempts to hump her, he gets smacked on the nose, pees on the floor, chases Squeaky, sits on the couch, chews a bone, and then gets put back in his crate with food and water so that I can escape to work. It's a messy whirlwind of a routine, but at least it's a routine. That all changed this weekend. Because my brother and his wife are moving between states and don't have a permanent residence at the moment, we are taking care of their dogs for an undetermined amount of time. So I went from being the puppy-mama to a toddler to the temporary puppy-mama of a depressed, sullen teenager (Seamus) and to a pre-teen prissy diva (Gaucho). This was how my morning went today. I woke up and went to get Bruce out of his crate. Normally he is wide awake and walks out of the crate on his own. Today, he was all the way in the back (too far for me to easily grab him) still half asleep. I urged him to get up and come toward me so we could go outside. His response was to yawn, stretch, lick his paw, and look at me. Not helping. So I left him alone to go the other two pups. Seamus, would barely look at me. He loves my brother so much that he get extremely down when they are apart. Gaucho, the prissy pre-teen just wanted me to pet her belly and tell her she was beautiful, but she wouldn't come downstairs either. At that time, Bruce had made his sleepy-head way out of crate so I took him out to do his business. I put him back inside, went upstairs, grabbed Gaucho and took her outside. She took forever. I can imagine her as a prissy, pre-teen human hogging the bathroom to primp. Seamus eventually ventured downstairs to look longingly out the front door for my brother. He then went right back upstairs and I swear I heard him mutter "No one loves me, I hate the world." If Seamus was human, he would have slammed the door to his room and played Radiohead while drawing angry stick figures on the wall. I finally got Gaucho to come back inside and she went up to her room to revel in her prettiness. Meanwhile, Bruce is still a cute toddler who has discovered his penis and like to hump everything. I rushed out of the house, running five minutes late, shouting orders to Sam. Feed the cat, give Seamus his pill, he hasn't gone outside so make sure he does even if you have to physically carry him, love you, bye.

I have turned into the canine version of the crazy mom that yells at everyone to get up, pulls children out of bed, throws clothes on them, tosses cereal into bowls, shoves sandwiches into bags, and then deposits the children at the school, before speeding off to work in sweatpants and a different color heel on each foot.

Puppy Training

I haven't blogged in a while but I have a great list of excuses. I've been battling a nagging cold/cough for over two weeks, I traveled up to Tennessee, and I've been living with a puppy. The puppy has been my biggest excuse. It's hard to accomplish things when you are constantly cleaning up pee puddles, pulling inedible items out of Bruce's mouth, preventing a Squeaky vs. Bruce smack down, and trying to teach Bruce how to roll over. Fortunately for all parties involved, Bruce is a cutie so it is very difficult to get frustrated at him for very long...even when he rips a hole in a pair of brand new dress pants...maybe I'm still a little peeved about that. They say raising a puppy is good prep for a baby and I'm sure it does have some similarities. The puppy doesn't know what a weekend is or that mama likes to sleep in on Saturdays. I've become very familiar with all types of gross liquids and solids that come out of a tiny creature in such large quantites, it defies logic. Sam and I talk about poop in probably the same frequency as new parents. We are constantly evaluating how many times he poops, the consistency of the poop, and we get freaked out when he doesn't poop. Shit is important! But enough about shit, here are some photos of the little shitter himself:

 His belly is too full!

 Daddy's ankle is a surprisingly comfy pillow.

A Rollarcoaster Day ***UPDATED

Sam and I have been seriously looking at adopting a pit bull puppy for the past week or so. Last night I looked at a website that had three beautiful pit bulls up for adoption. I filled out the application. They asked a ton of questions about our house, jobs, past pets, current pets, and asked for a reference. I filled all of that out and this morning found out we were rejected because we would prefer a primarily outdoor dog. According to them, having a dog live outdoors will "lead to behavioral and mental issues." Now I understand leaving a dog outside in a small, bare yard with no interaction and no shade will definitely cause behavioral and mental issues. That is not our plan or our situation at all. Our backyard is huge! There is plenty of shade to cool down and Sam is working on a dog house that will be built in such a way to keep it not too hot or too cold. Sam and I would also spend a lot of time with the dogs to keep them stimulated and happy. And if they are okay with Squeaky, then can be let indoors.

After Sam came home and I told him that we were rejected, we decided to go to the Fulton County Animal Services to look at their dogs. After getting there, we walked through the long row of dogs needing homes. As soon as I started walking down, I was hit with emotion so hard I started crying. I could just feel sadness emanating from the cages and I had to take a break and get it together before going back in. We asked a volunteer about pit bull options and she brought us to a cage with 4 young pit balls, one boy and three girls. She suggested that if we are looking into getting two, to get a boy and a girl. So we played with the boy first. He had blue coloring, a sweet face, and was way too skinny. And was named stupidly Ocho Cinco after the football player. In the playroom, we fell in love with him and started calling him Blue. He was very sweet and energetic and let us pick him up, although at 5 months old he was quite the armful. He was definitely going to go home with us! We just needed to pick out a sister. We decided on Jenny who was a calm and sweet brindle, Sam kept accidentally calling her Lady, so we decided that would be her name. Blue and Lady were going to be ours! The volunteer led us to the adoption room and she handed the worker the dogs' papers. She looked at them and then told us they weren't up for adoption. I was flabbergasted. We asked why was there no sign on the door? We had been told by the volunteer that all of the dogs in that area were ready to go. The lady was not apologetic (she was actually quite bitchy) but just said that the original owner of the dogs had been in recent communication with them and the final decision would be made Friday. So I filled out an application for them and we left, dog-less.  

Maybe Friday, we will get to take them home. Maybe we will have to start all over.

***Update***

So this Friday we were told that we would more than likely get them on Saturday. Saturday morning, Sam called and was told the owner was still in contact with them and it would be Thursday. We were incredibly frustrated and also knew that a Pit Rescue group wanted them as well. Knowing that if the owner did eventually at some point in the near or not-so-near future did decide to give them up, that the Pit Rescue group would take all 4 puppies and place them, we made the decision to cut our losses. I felt bad about it but I also felt that the owner was abusing the system and getting free health care for as long as she could.
We went to the Atlanta Humane Society and found Triathlon. Yes, his name is Triathlon. He is almost 2 months old and is a pit mix. He's smaller than Squeaky at the moment which is good. Squeaky can exert his dominance and isn't afraid of swatting the puppy on the head. Sam got to name him.He was incredibly curious in the Jeep so Sam's first thought was Clark after Lewis and Clark. Clark then led to discussions about Clark Kent and then to other superhero names. This led to Bruce, the name for both Batman and the Hulk. So without further ado, meet Bruce McFarland:

Squeaky doesn't really like him yet but he does like Bruce's crate.
   

Farewell Chick-fil-A

I try not to be a hypocrite. Everyone is a hypocrite in some capacity but I do try to at least keep my hypocrisy down to a minimum. Keeping that in mind, I can no longer eat at Chick-fil-A. Chick-fil-A recently announced that not only do they not support gay marriage but they have contributed large portions of money to anti-gay campaigns. Now this is America and everyone is entitled to their opinion. So Chick-fil-A have the right to be anti-gay and I have the right to boycott their food. 

Fortunately, I can continue to eat my beloved Oreos! 

Samber Updates

Since I've temporarily returned to Facebook, people have asked me what has been going on with our lives. Even after I re-quit Facebook, you can always check in with us through my blog. But for those of y'all who haven't been reading it, here are a couple of updates about Sam+Amber, plus a few soap box moments since I haven't been able to post any Facebook rants.

**We have a new roommate, Annie. You can read more about that here.
**We are getting a fence put up in our backyard so that we can get a dog. I really want to get a rescue pit bull. [Soap Box: If you buy a puppy/kitten from a breeder or a pet store, please realize that you are perpetuating a horrible system. There are countless dogs and cats on death row that need a good home. Adopt from a Shelter! Please get your dogs and cats spaid/neutred. Puppies and kittens are cute but we are overflowing with them.]
**We are not even close to being able to move back to Tennessee. I miss it so much that I get pains in my gut thinking about it. Seriously, that's how homesick I am, I actually get physically sick. Our house's value has dropped so much that the only way to sell it would be to willingly lose money. Sam and I are too cheap to do that so we are staying here until the housing market changes.
**Sam is ridiculously smart. He got two academic achievement awards. One for Anatomy and Physiology I Lab and one for Anatomy and Physiology II Lecture. It looks like he'll be around 55 when he's done with school and we'll be ready for kids when I'm around 65ish. Here's more to that story and you can stop asking us when we will start procreating. The real answer is roughly 5 years from now unless we make a mistake. Let's hope we don't.
**Sam's hip replacement is officially past the one year mark. Sam is physically doing great and it has been an amazing year watching his pain go away and his strength grow. [Soap Box: A few people have asked him why he is still limping. Shut Up! His femur was grinding into his pelvis. There was a lot of bone loss resulting in a one-inch difference in leg length. The doctor got it as long as he could but 15 years of damage had done its toll and one of his nerves couldn't be stretched long enough to make up the entire inch. Also, Sam's ankle is still and will always be weaker than his other one. Please comment on how much improvement has been made and not what has stayed the same. That's like asking a woman that just had a baby why she's still a little plump in her belly.]
**I'm still the same. I'm still an Events Coordinator at a great non-profit. I'm still in love with my husband. I still carry Squeaky around like a baby. I spend my time writing, doing paper crafts, drinking Cabernet, and keeping Sam sane with his 2 jobs and school. I'm failing at gardening, house cleaning, and not eating cookies.

In conclusion, we are getting a new fur baby but no real babies, we are stuck in GA forever, Sam is smart and walking, climbing, and hiking just fine, and I'm still the same opinionated person. Together we are wandering through this wonderful life together and maybe one day we can wander back to Tennessee.

A Proud Wife

Sam and I were at a friend's lake house for the 4th of July and I was witness to something extraordinarily sweet and endearing. There was another girl there that was annoying the crap out of me. She talked constantly and would make really loud and obnoxious comments, some purely for shock value. I really wanted to just push her in the lake or throw a beer can at her face, anything to shut her up. Sam had a different reaction entirely. He sat down with her and asked her how she was feeling. He had never met the girl until yesterday and he just asked her one simple question. He got her to open up about what was going wrong with her life and the fact she felt like she was lost. Sam told her about his less than ideal childhood and how instead of letting the past define him, he's working on improving his present and future. He's focusing on the positives and doing his best to not dwell on what he can't change about his past. He's happy and wants to make those around him happy. He's a good husband, hard worker, awarded-student, and will one day make an amazing dad. She said that she enjoys helping the children that she works with. He said, there you go, that's your goal. By improving the life of the kids you work with, you are improving your own. I've always known that one of Sam's best qualities and one of the first things I fell in love with, was his genuine consideration of others. It's remarkable how he can change someone's day by simply being polite and kind. I've seen him change someone's entire posture and demeanor by only asking them how their day was going and listening to their response. If more people did that, think of the impact that would bring! It's not just about stopping to smell the roses, it's also about stopping to listen.

5 years ago

I would have written this on Thursday but I'll be on the road and can't, so I'll just be ahead of myself. So 5 years ago (this Thursday), I went on my first date with Sam. We had met at his cousin's wedding which I planned on June 9, 2007. We exchanged numbers and talked everyday on the phone from that day forth. I was wanting to drive down to Atlanta to go on a date but I was nervous. Having never driven to even Nashville by myself, driving to Atlanta seemed like the most scary thing ever. I mentioned to my brother that I wanted to go to Atlanta to see Sam, but Jake quickly rejected the idea of little-old twenty-two year old me driving all the way to Atlanta in my crappy '89 chevy blazer to go see a thirty year old man (older than my brother) whom I've only met once. My parents and I were already planning a trip to see my brother in Knoxville so he suggested that I meet Sam there and spend the night at his house the night before our parent's would arrive. I figured there was no way in hell that Sam would agree to spend the night in some strange man's house just to go on a date with a girl he had only seen once. But Sam, being the affable gentleman that he is, agreed. So on June 21, I drove in my rented car (my Chevy Blazer,  d'Artagnan would have died half-way there and yes, I named my Blazer after a Musketeer) all the way to Knoxville. I made 5 cds of good driving songs and wore a shirt that wouldn't show sweaty pit stains. I was doing so many nerve-wracking things all at once. I was driving farther than I had ever driven before. I was going on a date. And I was actually going on a date with someone I was really interested in and was also very handsome. So we met in the Wal-Mart parking lot at Turkey Creek shopping center, because that's where all classy dates should begin. At that point, I was a messy ball of sweat. My stomach was dancing around my insides and my throat tightened up. When I got out of my car and walked towards him, I started to run towards him but then felt silly, so I slowed down to a more calm, normal pace. Fortunately, all Sam noticed was how nice my figure was, especially my ass once he got a better look. You got to love the difference in male/female trains-of-thought.
Female: OMG, I'm so nervous, I must look like a wreck, how's my hair, he looks so hot, why did I wear these shoes, what do I do if I have to burp, I'm so unlady-like, does my breath stink, I knew I should have stopped off at a gas station and bought gum, brushed my teeth, sprayed my whole being with mint, look normal, stop walking like that, you look like a constipated ostrich.
Male: I could bang her.



So after our initial meeting, we walked over hand-in-hand to the Olive Garden. I got to have another moment of over-analysis running rampant when it came to choosing from the menu. It couldn't be anything too pricey or too messy (definitely no spaghetti). I ended up choosing something way too garlicky, oops! It ended up not mattering much since my stomach was so knotted I barely ate. Not so knotted that I couldn't drink 2 sangrias! After the meal we saw Pirates of the Caribbean II or III. About 2/3rds of the way in, we had our first kiss. At some point that day, I asked him, "Are we...?" and he replied, "Yes." His one word reply to my half-finished question made us officially together. The next day we walked hand-in-hand through Market Square. They have a fountain that you can splash in and we had our first photo as a couple taken.

                                   
It's been a crazy, hard, and wonderful 5 years and I wouldn't change a thing. Our whole story involves little chance encounters and circumstances that allowed us to meet at the right time. I feel incredibly lucky that life took me where we needed to be in order for us to meet and fall in love. Life can knock you down, twist you around, and bitch-slap you in the face. But it can also pick you up, carry you around, and give you the one meant to walk with you for the remainder of your days.

Who are you?

I've had 1008 page view as of today and I know they can't all be from my mom. So, if you are reading my blog in the next couple of weeks, please leave a comment with who you are and where you are from. Thank you and please keep reading! There are surely more Samber Misadventures around the corner! 

I Bought a Sewing Machine...Now What?

I guess I should sew. That's the obvious answer. Except I don't quite know how to do that yet. I bought the cart before the horse knowing that I don't know the first thing about horses and I'm kind of scared of them. I'm not actually scared of horses, I mean sewing, I just get intimidated by my lack of skills and the possibility of failing so I just don't end up trying at all. That is why I never played sports in school, or asked a guy out, or did anything that put myself in a place where I could fail. If Sam hadn't asked me out, I would still be single to this day. So the next obvious question is why did you buy the sewing machine in the first place? Because it's pretty. Seriously, it's a gorgeous machine. It's the 160th Singer Anniversary sewing machine. If I'm to ever learn how to sew, it's going to be on this pretty baby. It can decorative stitch all sorts of fancy designs at the push of a button! When I bought it, I told my mom I was going to decoratively stitch the shit out of everything! So far, Annie has decoratively stitched her shorts and I've fixed Sam's scrubs. I'm doing a horrible job at it and can't sew straight to save my life, but Sam's pockets are staying in place. That's the whole point and no one has told Sam that it looked like his pockets had been fixed by a blind, one-armed monkey. Yet. I also haven't figured out how to get the thread on the bobbin, but Annie does so I just ask her to do it. I don't know what I'm going to do whenever she moves out. I've also fixed a few of my shirts and they don't look too horrible. I really do need to learn how to sew properly. My body shape is so not normal and it means a lot of my clothes need little things adjusted to make them fit properly. God was in a random sort of mood when my genetics were thrown around. I'm 5'3'' and most of that is in my torso. I have the same torso length as my friend Aaron, a 5'9''ish dude. So I have an abnormally long torso precariously placed on short, thick legs. To make matters weirder, my narrow rib cage is graced with voluptuous bosoms. I'm not complaining about my bosoms but they complicate life and there are so many pretty things I can't wear because of them. Oh, and my belly button is absurdly high on my stomach. I don't know why, it just is. Sam will poke me where my belly button should be and then jokingly look at me funny and them move his finger the three inches north to where it actually resides. So my shoulders are normal and I have a small frame when it comes to my loverly arm pits. My legs, as I've mentioned are short and and thick. I have the legs of an Eastern European milk maid circa 1875. They aren't pretty. My hips are narrow and my thighs are anything but. Speaking of butts, mine is actually nice, thank you Jesus! So when it comes to buying a shirt, for it to fit my bosom, it ends up being too big under my arms. Because my torso is so long and my bosom is big, the shirt will stop where my belly button is suppose to be. My pants will fit my waist but are too tight on my thighs with 5 inches of excess length. But pants from the petite section rise up so much when I sit, my cankles are exposed. Yes, I have cankles. Sam tells me they make me more sturdy. That's a lie, if they made me more sturdy, I'd be less clumsy. So I have to buy shirts that are too big and pants that are too long. I also procrastinate so getting these items to a seamstress doesn't happen frequently enough. My closet is full of things I don't wear because they need alterations. If I could fix them myself, I'd have a much easier time looking put together in clothes that fit me and not sort-of fit me. Anyway, I need to get the courage to straddle the sewing machine and learn how to ride it? I've mixed my expressions up along the way. Regardless, I need to learn how to sew. Tomorrow or the next day...

Clumsiness is Contagious

Sam and I went camping this weekend and did not return unscathed. We have never compiled more injuries on any camping trip until this one; among the injuries: battered shins, bee sting, thumb pierced by fish hook, bruised ass cheek, cut cheek (the regular non-ass kind), and a hatchet wound. Yes. There was wound caused via a hatchet. The bulk of these injuries happened to Sam in one swift, clumsy move. We all went hiking along the river to some rock slides. Sam, while holding his expensive boots (birthday gift from me) and a small camp shovel, slid down a slick rock and into the rushing water. The water pulled him backwards toward a small waterfall. I knew that the small waterfall led to a larger waterfall. I watched in absolute horror as Sam was pulled away. Out of my reach and out of my and his control. Sam is always in control of his physical self. He has lightning quick reflexes and amazing physical control of his body. I'm the one that trips going up stairs. I'm the one that fractured my skull after falling down stairs. I bump into the corners of walls, furniture, people, Squeaky. The fact that my skull is the only thing I've broken boggles my mind! I have no concept of rhythm and can't control my arms and legs simultaneously. I'm a walking accident waiting to happen at any given time. So the look on Sam's face, the look of un-control, scared me shitless. I was on the bank on the other side of the rock from where Sam fell in. I jumped in the cold water immediately and moved toward him. Our friend, Brian, was much closer and was able to grab him and pull him toward the bank. I watched as one of Sam's boots tumbled down a waterfall and out of my sight. Knowing that Sam was safe, I scampered back over rocks and trees, through the cold water, desperately looking for his boot to no avail. I went back over to Sam and kissed him hard on the lips. His shins were bleeding from the impact on the rock. His cheekbone was sliced and bruised. It actually made him look sexier. I didn't know that was possible, but yes Sam can surpass his current sexiness by getting scraped. It made him look rugged and dangerous. If we had been alone......................................................................
Anyway, we were then informed that this rush of scary white water that Sam fell into was the rock slide we were hiking towards all along! When I had pictured a rock slide, I had imagined a rock outcrop that has a small stream of water running over it. The rock would be smooth and one would slide down it and into a pool of water. This is not what this was at all. This would climbing over a slick rock (the one Sam fell down) over to another set of rocks and then pushing yourself forward into the scary mass of white water that would propel you in the direction of the freaking waterfall!!! Brian and his friend, Brad, did it. Sam then did it. Then it was my turn. I was told to kick my legs up so I wouldn't collide against a rock. Awesome. The proper leg position will save me from face planting on a rock. I don't possess the necessary coordination to maintain any proper position! But jump in, I did. The water immediately pushed me under and turned me around to the same backward position Sam was in. I wear contacts so I had to keep my eyes sealed shut and only opened them in squints just enough to see where I was going. I was caught by Brad and then Sam got a hold of me and got me over to the bank. I coughed up a lungful of river water and blinked my eyes clear. That was by far the stupidest thing I've ever willingly submitted myself to doing! But it was kind of fun in an I'm about to drown and they'll never find my body kind of way. After we had all recovered from our reckless adventures, we made our way to the bridge that crosses the large waterfall to see if we could spot Sam's boot. I figured it was a hopeless cause. I also decided that I would no longer buy Sam pretty things because he loses them. First he lost his wedding ring and now his boots. We all stood and looked around. Sara and Sam spotted something that resembled a boot. We scrambled down the path to where the boot-shaped object resided, stuck behind a rock. Sam went to retrieve it and sure enough, it was his boot!!! His boot had survived two waterfalls and was saved by a rock and the fact it too light to sink and too heavy to skim over everything and continue down the river. It's a wonderful boot, American made, and worth every freaking penny! I got it from Union Boot Pro and I can't recommend them enough! And I may still buy Sam the occasional pretty trinket.

We got back to the campsite and a bee took it upon itself to land on my pants right when I picked them up to hang up to dry. Apparently, it didn't like me moving it's landing zone so it stung me. Bitch. I've never been stung and I quickly found out that it really hurts. I'm not sure if I'm allergic but my mom is so I took a benedryl. Which meant that I needed a nap very soon afterwards. As I was drifting off into my antihistamine assisted slumber, I heard Sam yelp in pain. He apparently grabbed the small hatchet and somehow stabbed himself in the ankle. I was awake enough to realize he hurt himself but as soon as I knew he wasn't going to bleed to death, I passed out. I'm such a concerned wife. "Do we need to amputate? No? Ok. ZZZZZZZZ" The next day I found what appeared to be a more reasonable rock slide. A steady stream of water cascaded over a sloping rock that ended in a pool of water. There was no risk of white water or waterfalls in sight. So while Sam fished (the only thing he caught was my thumb from when I waded out into the water to untangle his line from a stick), I slid down. However, there was a small protrusion of rock that my ass impacted on the way down. So the last injury of the trip was my bruised bum.

At some point during this trip, I told Sam to stop being clumsy. That's my thing. It's what makes me special. He's sexy. I'm clumsy. It's not fair for him to steal my thunder. He told me I was contagious. Our future looks so bright and with shades of blue and purple that fade into a sickly yellow-green.

I'll add pictures of Sam retrieving his boot later.  

Two Steps Back Equals 3 Years Back

In a perfect world, Sam and I would living on the hill in Lebanon, TN and working on getting pregnant. I would be working for some random company with a good insurance plan. Sam would be working as a physician's assistant (PA) somewhere close by, have great hours, and come home every evening where we could work on the whole pregnancy thing. Of all those dreams listed, the only one that is current reality is the good insurance. We live in Decatur, GA. Pregnancy right now would be a bad thing because Sam is still in school and working one night job and one weekend job. In looking at the steps needed to be taken for the PA track, our dream has been pushed to five years from now. If everything works out. Sam is currently in school to get his academic prerequisites for PA schools. He has two more semesters of that and he needs to take his GRE. Easy enough right? PA school is only 27 months long, he should be done in under 4 years, right? Wrong. Most PA schools require either 1000 or 2000 hours of direct human patient care in order to be considered for acceptance. Sam has 10 years of direct patient care experience...but in animals. It doesn't matter that Sam can place a catheter in a tiny dog's veins, veins smaller than a human child. It doesn't matter that Sam can carefully pick up an injured dog that weighs as much as me. It doesn't matter that Sam can perform his job gracefully while being covered in feces, urine, or vomit. He can calmly and quickly handle a patient that's natural reaction to pain and fear is to try and tear up the person caring for it. Sam can explain to the human caregiver what is going on. He can comfort a person who has just lost a loved one, a family member, an irreplaceable being. I've watched as Sam stoically held forceps in the same position for over 30 minutes while a Vet performed surgery. Because these animals aren't human, none of this experience carries weight. So what Sam will have to do after he is finished with the prereqs is to continue along a different path. He'll need to get certified in something else; like a surgical tech, or a patient care tech, or an LPN. All of these certifications take at least a year. Then, Sam has get hired on and work for longer than 6 months before applying to PA programs. Then we pray he gets accepted. Once he does get accepted, it's a 27-month long program. Afterwards, we need to try and sell the house, build our house on the hill, and get pregnant ASAP. Because at that point, I'll at least be 32. Yes, many women all of the world get pregnant just fine at 32. But, I would prefer to get all my fertility needs out of the way by 32, not need them at 32 and then again at 34. Ok, my whiny rant is officially over. I needed to get that written out and out of my thoughts. We just need to push forward and pray that my 32-year old eggs are still fresh and my uterus hasn't put up a closed for business sign. 

Lessons from My Matriarchs

As you'll see, I started writing this last year but kept crying and couldn't finish it. I haven't looked at it again until today. I finally finished it but I may add stories about the other women in my life and maybe some photos. The three mentioned below are my direct matrilineal line. 

My great-grandmother passed away Sunday night in her sleep and with her, an era ended. My mom is the new matriarch. I can't go to the funeral so in the memory and in the honor of my matriarchs, I decided to write about what I've learned from them.

Ora Evelynne Dick Brewer (0ct. 16, 1919-Nov. 14, 2011) "Granny Brewer"
Life was never easy for Ora. Her father was a man addicted to both alcohol and gambling. Her older brother ended up the same way. Her mother, Nora, was a beautiful 1/2 Lakota woman who was committed to an insane asylum when Ora was a child for reasons we don't know. Nora was dead before the age of 30, if my memory serves me correctly. Ora had every pretty thing she owned gambled away, including her porcelain dolls. What childhood she had was gone by the time she was 15 when she married my great-grandfather (Charlie), 12 years her senior. Charlie was a tall, dark, and handsome type with a wild side. He was over 6 feet tall with a strong, tanned Cherokee face, striking blue eyes, and thick blond hair. He married Ora cause she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen and she made the best pies. I can understand what they saw in each other. She was young and pretty, he was taking her away from her dad. She was pregnant by the time she was 16, unbeknownst to her, with fraternal twins. Early on she miscarried one twin and just thought she wasn't pregnant anymore. She didn't understand what happened until she kept growing and realized she was still pregnant. She gave birth to my great-aunt Sandra and gave birth to my grandmother, Joe-Ann, two years later. Ora worked at a shirt factory for 30 years, she sold Avon, she kept up her home, raised two daughters, and dealt with her husband. She loved him fiercely and he was never an easy man to love.
Ora is one of the most complex people in my family. She was quiet and worked very hard but she was so very fragile. I always felt like her lack of childhood impacted her the most. After she ended up in a rest home, she started to paint beautiful landscapes. It was a skill no one knew she had. She told my mom, I think, that she used to paint as a little girl in school.
My Granny Brewer taught me to embrace. Embrace my childhood memories, embrace my independence, embrace my mom. Embrace the best things because they aren't always meant to last.

Joe Ann Brewer Staggs (February ,1938 - April 1, 2001) "Mama Joe"
My grandmother was everything. That is the simplest way to state it. She never had it easy but she fought. Charlie would come home drunk when Joe Ann was a teen and she got really tired of it. One night, after he passed out in the living room, she dragged him outside by his feet through the house, down the stairs, and into the outhouse. The dragging and banging around of his head apparently roused him from his stupor long enough for her to tell him, "You belong out here with the shit." Charlie didn't come home home drunk again. Joe Ann was tall and athletic with black hair and pretty green eyes. At the age of 20, she married one of the most amazing men in the world, Bobby. He was her balance. She had a fiery temper, he never raised his voice. She wasn't a morning person, he woke up singing to her. They did everything together and loved each other intensely. Joe Ann worked hard and could do anything with her hands. She could fix your hair, sew your clothes, cook you the most amazing food, and wrap you up in one of her hand sewn quilts and give you a bear hug that would make your ribs crack. She could also hunt, play softball, and keep her three rowdy sons in line. She helped her husband fight when he was diagnosed with cancer. She kept fighting until his last breath. She was never the same after that, but she kept fighting, and working, and loving. When she died, a part of us all died. Sometimes when I think about it, I can't catch my breath.
From Mama Joe I learned to always keep fighting and keep loving. And to never do anything half way.

Sheree Sue Staggs Bland
Sheree got the best from Joe Ann and Bobby. She fights just like Joe Ann but she smiles and sings badly just like Bobby. Looking at her though, you wouldn't ever guess she came from them. She has reddish-brown hair, freckles, and Charlie's piercing blue eyes. Apparently the Native American traits stopped with her parents. Sheree had a laid back attitude but she stands up for herself and her family with Joe Ann's intensity. She has an infectious laugh and a sweet voice. People tell me I sound like her. I tell them that I'm not sweet enough to sound like my mom. Her and my Dad, Jimmy, have the best relationship ever. They, like Joe Ann and Bobby, balance each other out. Sheree can talk to anyone like they are an old friend. Jimmy is more shy around people he doesn't know. Jimmy can get worked up and Sheree can calm him down. She knows something is wrong before I answer her phone call. Even though she wasn't with me when I fractured my skull, she knew something bad had happened and rushed home. She knows what to say and when not to say a word. She gave my husband something he never had, a true mother. She knew before I did that I needed to marry a country boy. She taught me to be brave and physically pushed me in Sam's direction the day I met him. She knows me better than I do. Being away from her and my dad, I crave their hugs. I miss seeing the way my mom's eyes light up when she smiles. She talks with her hands and has the most infectious laugh. My mom has taught me so much that it is hard to verbalize. I know that whatever parts of me that are good, it's because of her. If I'm a good wife, it's because of her. If I am a good mother in the future, it's because of her.

My matriarchs have shown me so many lessons in loving and living. I owe so much to them and to the women that came before them. I hope to pass down to the future generations what has been given so generously and graciously to me. I love you, Granny Brewer. I love you, Mama Joe. I love you, Mom, so very much!

Gay Marriage

How does gay marriage negatively affect my marriage? It doesn't. The legalization of gay marriage has absolutely no impact on my heterosexual marriage. Sam and I will continue living our straight married life peacefully. If anything, the legalization of marriage will just make our social life busier with the flurry of invites that would come. Our wallet may get a bit thinner from all the gifts to be purchased off what would have to be the most amazing wedding registries, ever! I might grow a bit jealous of the amazingly beautiful ceremonies that will surpass my own. But my heart will grow bigger and fuller of love at the beautiful vows that are finally able to be expressed. The sanctity of marriage wouldn't be attacked, it would just evolve. Couples that have been together longer than I've been alive would finally be able to say the two words that most straight people have taken for granted, "I do." Gay people in hospital waiting rooms would have the same courtesies given to straight people. When Sam had his hip replacement surgery, I was able to be with Sam until it was time to roll him away. I was the one that signed paperwork. The surgeon came and spoke to me. I stayed by his bed every night. Had we been a gay couple, the surgeon would only be able to speak to next of kin. A gay partner in a lot of places is not considered the next of kin, they are just legally a friend. As a gay couple, your legal rights are slim. And that is not right. As a married woman, the federal government gives me over 1,000 rights. All gay people are asking for are those same rights. What I'm asking for, is that gay people are given the same rights that Sam and I have been rewarded.

Vanity

I have decided that if you have a vanity plate on your car, I don't like you. I was behind PRECIUS today and the desire to hit her came upon me so quick I thought I was having early-onset hot flashes. First off, the way you've spelled the word indicates that it would be pronounced press-ee-us, which sounds like the bastard cousin of the Prius. Secondly, if you feel the need to inform all of Atlanta that you think you are precious, you probably aren't. 

Squeaky Gets a Roomate that Only has 2 Legs

Squeaky won't let us get a dog so we adopted a former intern. Annie interned at my job and after her internship ended, she was able to find a part-time job. But there is no way in hell you can afford rent in this town on that type of part-time pay. We have an entire upstairs that we don't use...so she moved in with us last week. It's been great so far. She helps me clean and cook. Yesterday, the three of us got the garden planted in no time at all! I finally have a shopping buddy. Sam always had the "my hip is hurting/broken/replaced" excuse to not shop. Now that he's healed, he's been using the "I work two jobs and go to school and have no time for shopping" excuse. Squeaky has already warmed up to Annie and I have no doubt he'll be camping out on her lap in no time. So until further notice, we are officially the Samberannie + Squeaky House of Awesomness!!!

Samber Camping Adventure: Part Two "Beer Coma, Chimney Top, and the Invasion of the Cheerleaders"

After crawling into our jeep, one goal was crystal clear in our brains...BEER!!! We headed straight to the Smokey Mountain Brewery where the waitresses are Russian, the beers are Tennessean, and the food is Mexi/Italian. Oh, and the beer is ridiculously cheap. I got 9 5oz samplers for $8.50 total and Sam got a 35oz beer for $7.00. It was pure hops heaven and even though Sam had to help me finish mine, I held my own and made my forefathers proud. We got back to our hotel and I fell blissfully into a beer coma for two hours while Sam took a shower and watched Swamp Men. After I woke up feeling refreshed, we walked to Bennett's for Sam to get a barbeque sandwich. I was too full on my beer and quesadilla so I picked on a baked potato. We were back at Bennett's the next morning for breakfast then off we went to our campsite. I was really sad to leave our hotel room and said an emotional farewell to the bed and shower. The TV and I had become buddies so it was difficult to say goodbye. We got to the campsite which was quite a bit further up the mountain than the city; therefore, our new home was quite a few degree colder. I was admittedly a bit grumpy so Sam and I walked down the river and took a few photos. The campsite area was beautiful and I was admiring it and walking at the same time. That was a mistake on my part. I tumbled down a slight hill in full view of some campers. Damn my clumsiness! I had climbed up a bleepin' mountain and back without injury, yet I can't casually stroll next to a river without nearly breaking something. I dusted off my pants and readjusted my pride all the while blushing a lovely shade of red. Back at the campsite, Sam built a roaring fire and we realized when it came time to cook the hotdogs, Sam had forgot the evil looking pronged-hot dog spits. I was actually glad that Sam forgot them because I forgot to pack pillows and now we were even. So I took a fork and used tape from the emergency medical kit to tape it to a long stick. Dinner was saved!!! The next day, we hiked up Chimney Top. So we were told it was two miles long and involved some climbing. There was even a lovely sign that said climb at your own risk, but the photo had a nonathletic preteen on it so I figured, I got this. After the 8 mile hike the other day, 4 miles is nothing. Except that the two miles up Chimney Tops is nothing but up. Minus the three bridges you cross, all you are doing is walking up an incline. My body hated me and I hated my body. Sam would grab my hand and pull me up to keep going. He would encourage me, remind me to breathe deeply. I told him that based off this he was going to be a good partner in the birthing room one day. He will be very supportive and encouraging during my labor while I yell various, expletive-filled insults at the top of my lungs. Back to the hike. So after climbing for a few hours we reached the rock outcrop at the top. To get to the actual top you have to rock climb sans rope. There are two different routes you can take. One involves a section with a drop off to certain death either way you fall. Sam took this route. The other option has trees that might catch you were you to fall. I took that route. Once on top, the views are spectacular!!! The sky was bright blue with no clouds and you could see out forever. It was nice to just sit and take in everything. This was a moment for quietness. Even though I'm pretty sure I made some dirty jokes while up there. I can't help myself. We headed back down and while I was walking, just walking, I sprained my ankle. I had just climbed my second mountain and was injured twice just by walking. I give up. After we got back down and felt awesome in our accomplishment, we headed into Gatlinburg to do the some touristy stuff. Apparently there was a cheer leading competition because the city that had been mostly empty when we arrived, was full of little girls in more make-up and glitter than all of Atlanta's vast array of strippers combined. They were intimidating. There is nothing more scary than a 4-foot, pony tailed, mini-Tammy Faye look-a-like, tweaking off a Mountain Dew high and screaming out cheers manically. The majority of them seemed to be from Kentucky and as soon as that came out of my mouth, Sam, a college cheerleader, gave me a history of cheer leading and how Kentucky breeds cheer leaders just as much as they do horses. And they always win. I then asked Sam if he was having flashbacks to his cheer leading days and wanted to grab one of the girls and throw her up in the air. Sam then told me I was making him sound like a pedophile. Point taken. The next day we packed up and headed back home to Squeaky. I was sad to leave the mountains. You can actually see the stars and breathe in fresh air. Atlanta just can't compete.

Time for pictures!!!

Sam's 35 oz. beer

 My collective 45 oz. beers. Sam only had to help me with the last three. I did my people proud.

 The river by our camp.

 Our shadows are kissing! Peter Pan would be appalled!

 We are about to climb the hard part of Chimney Top!!!

 The amazing view!

 Look ma! I'm climbing a mountain like a sexy, awkward kitten!

 This is a close-up picture of Chimney Top taken from the bottom of the trail.

  

The is a zoomed out shot of the same thing with me pointing at it.