My husband,  as I have mentioned, is a brave and wonderful ,did I say handsome, firefighter/paramedic in Los Angeles. He works 24 hour shifts and sometimes many in a row. He, and his colleagues are subject to overtime at any given moment.  This wreaks havoc with just about every part of our home life.

All of the major holidays can be disrupted, missed, spent at the fire station or postponed.

Birthdays are no exception. We choose to celebrate as a family on whichever day falls closest to that date of not working.

Today is our son’s seventh birthday and daddy had to work.  That’s no biggie in our life , we will just celebrate tomorrow.  However, it does confuse the children.  Cries of “where are my presents, where are the cake and balloons ?” can be heard over the day. He knows it’s his birthday but it’s hard when you are counting down the days and someone moves the finish line.

Reassurances are given and claims of having two birthdays  and being super special seem to be doing the trick !

Christmas is the hardest one. Going to the fire station is a two hour drive one way and quite often we are left sitting whilst the men run their calls  and their turkey  dinner gets cold.  The kids don’t get to open their presents until Boxing Day and Daddy sometimes doesn’t get home until 10 AM. That’s torture for small children !!

New Year’s Eve’s have been lonely  and we have spent many Easter egg hunts without Daddy pointing out the one up the tree.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not all doom and gloom for a firefighter wife. We get to have our husband home for days at a time and taking a month off for a summer vacation is not out of the question .  It’s just a matter of making things work  and changing things around.

We are making our own rules.

Happy birthday little fella.The cake will be here tomorrow and so will Daddy ❤️

There is a medical distinction between “Guts” and “Balls”.

We’ve heard colleagues referring to people with “Guts”, or with “Balls”.

Do they, however, know the difference between them?

Here’s the official distinction; straight from the British Medical Journal: Volume 323; page 295.

GUTS – Is arriving home late, after a night out with the lads, being met by your wife with a broom, and having the “Guts” to ask: “Are you still cleaning, or are you flying somewhere?”

BALLS – Is coming home late after a night out with the lads, smelling of perfume and beer, lipstick on your collar, slapping your wife on the bum and having the “Balls” to say: ‘You’re next, Chubby.’

I trust this clears up any confusion.

Medically speaking, there is no difference in outcome; both are fatal.

…..this house buying and selling is going to kill me , or send me looney tunes. I am sure of it now.

I have all of my ducks in a row for our upcoming house move …..but the egg represents the unknown.

Keeping a positive attitude , but always have a little fear that something will pop up and surprise us.

I think that it’s healthy to stay alert and if you think it may happen , you are ready , and if it doesn’t , it’s a win.

30 days of Escrow …..

I made dinner for my kids’ grandmother and I  handed her a fork.

She said ‘oh no, may I have a fork with four prongs please?’

Thinking I had just shown myself up,  and wasted my fathers hard earned money spent on me for boarding school, I immediately changed her fork.

After she left I had to look in my cutlery drawer to see which types of forks I have. True enough the fork with the four prongs felt more substantial , perhaps due to it being heavier?  I honestly had never given it any thought!

I am not a Southern debutante with training in etiquette,  only a Scotswomen from Falkirk,  but I generally know which piece of silverware to use.

I can recognize the cake fork, shrimp fork , salad fork , and  fruit fork etc.

I turned to the great Internet , and the ever trusted Wikipedia for my answers on the history of forks.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fork

I had no forking idea!!