Weedeaters and Wedding Rings

This is my step mom, Jane. Isn't she lovely?
She was married to my dad. They were very happy. Right up until my dad up and died on her. And me. Brain aneurysm at 55 years old. It was tragic. Broke our hearts into a million little pieces.

Some time after dad died, Jane met Henry. Henry is a very nice man. So nice, in fact, that Jane has decided to marry him.

I couldn't be happier for her.

Jane and Henry shopped and eventually picked out a beautiful engagement ring. I assumed she traded in the ring she had when she was married to dad.

Oh my, I was wrong. THIS is what she brought to me today:

An early birthday gift for me. It's her wedding ring. She's had it set with a lime green peridot. It's gorgeous. Jane wanted me to have it.

First I cried. Then I wept. Then I boohoo'd. Then I hugged her. Then I cried.

Oh but it wasn't over yet. Apparently Jane and Tracy (my sweet step sister) thought I needed myself a weed eater. As a birthday gift. Yeah, you heard me, a weed eater.

You know what? They were right! I do need a weed eater!

I hate to admit this, but, um, uh... I love to mow. There, I said it. Well, it's not so much love, as enjoy. Well, maybe not even enjoy. Here's the deal, I just really like the instant satisfaction I get. The nice neat rows of freshly cut lawn appeal to my type-A leanings.

Also, it makes my husband want to weep with joy when he comes home and finds that I've mowed the lawn for him. And I love making my husband want to weep with joy.

So, for my birthday, I got a weed eater and a wedding ring. One will make me cry, the other will make me sweat. Both make me very happy.

Speaking of birthdays. We're on, like, day 27 of celebrating William's 5th birthday. While Jane was here, she took William to the toy store and told him he could pick out anything he wanted for his birthday. Can you believe? I did not go. Instead I sat at home and prayed to Jesus that William did not pick a Wii, or some other outrageously-priced item.

Thank God, this is what he came home with:

Two NASCARs. Excellent. William named them Looty and Judy. I do not have any idea why. I'm pretty sure NASCAR would not approve of naming the race car. And naming the race car with a girl name is a definite no-no.

Next, Aunt Tracy gave my boy a CROSSBOW. A Nerf Crossbow. Honestly, what boys life can be complete until he owns himself a CROSSBOW?

Listen, we all know I got the best gifts today, but try telling that to a NASCAR driver who's packin' crossbow heat.