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I really love when people want to know how Clint and I met. If you ask Clint, you’ll get a 45-minute story with lots of detail and a few anecdotes that do not paint such a flattering picture of me. Because Clint isn’t writing this, I’ll spare you the lengthy (although entertaining) story and give you the abbreviated version:

I met Clint when I moved to San Angelo, Texas, to take a job at the newspaper there. I was 22 years old with the ink barely dry on my journalism degree. I was ready to take the on world as a newspaper reporter and visions of a Pulitzer Prize danced in my head.

Clint was living in San Angelo finishing up Air Force ROTC at Angelo State University and taking a few grad classes. He too was armed with a journalism degree and was working part-time at the same newspaper. My first impression when we met was that he was very tall (he is 6’3”) and he had very blue eyes (now I get see those eyes in our daughter).

Let’s just say I thought Clint was a very nice guy but I had no romantic feelings for him at that time. He, on the other hand, thought I was the most stunning woman he’d ever laid eyes on and knew we were destined to be together. You can probably see how differing views can cause some problems.

We’ll jump ahead a bit to when Clint asked me if I wanted to go out to dinner. He picked me up in his then-new Chevy extended cab and off we went to a Chinese restaurant. I really thought we were just going out as friends so I chatted the whole time, totally comfortable and with no first-date jitters (because it wasn’t a “date,” right?).

This went on for quite some time – dinners, a rodeo – all with me just thinking we were friends while Clint was blinded by love. Finally the poor guy had enough and after one of our evenings out, asked just where this thing was headed. I can best describe my reaction as: deer in the headlights.

Understandably disgusted, Clint went off to his home in Arkansas for a visit, ready to write me off and move on to greener pastures. I started to realize I may have done something very stupid.

Fast forward to me coming to my senses and calling Clint to ask if we could get together. I like to this of this next event as truly our first date. He made me dinner (bacon-wrapped shrimp stuffed with cheese and jalapenos and quail – he really went all out) and we sat outside eating and talking. The evening ended with what would be our last first kiss.

The next year we were married. I like to say our relationship had a strange start but a happy ending.

I really can’t imagine my life without Clint. I thank the good Lord that he helped me see the amazing man that was right in front of my face. Like any marriage, ours has had been filled with joy and laughter, tears and heartache. Not every day has been easy, but having a wonderful husband certainly helps pull you through.

OK, so that account may have been a little long, but I can guarantee Clint’s is even longer. Yet, I never tire of hearing that story because I know how it ends.

Happy 10th anniversary to my wonderful husband, friend and partner for life. And thank you for knowing we belonged together even when I didn’t.

We are down to less than three months until Clint is home from Africa. I’m super excited and have added a countdown to my blog (see left). Whoohoo!

OK, this may sound snarky, but here goes.

I get an e-mail newsletter from WhattoExpect.com, including toddler tips, articles, etc. Today’s e-mail included this:

No matter what age your firstborn is, you may be feeling nostalgic for those early infancy days and thinking dreamy thoughts about baby number two.

Clearly, I am atypical because I never feel nostalgic for those early infancy days. I am sorry, but that’s just the way it is. I find this a tough concept for many people to understand, hence the odd looks I get when people ask if we’re having another child and I say, “No.” If you want to have more than one child, that is wonderful for you and I’m thrilled you’re happy. Some of us are just one-child kind of people and that’s perfectly OK.

OK, end of snarky.

As parents, we spend a lot of time teaching our children important life lessons – kindness, generosity, honesty, work ethic. But sometimes – like last night – we have the chance to teach our children about the simple pleasures of life: enjoying the taste of summer corn on the cob.

My child’s hair fits her so well – wild just like she is. She talks nonstop, is fearless and independent – most of that she gets from her Daddy. The hair, well, that’s a combination of what my hair looked like when I was that age and the Charleston humidity.

Here we are again, old friend. We’ve been meeting up for 34 years now. Isn’t it hard to believe? Doesn’t it seem we’ve been doing this for only 25 years or so? I swear, every year your visit comes faster. Sometimes, I welcome it as a time to celebrate, reflect and look ahead. Some years, I review my accomplishments, my friends, my family, my life and feel blessed. Other years, I spend two weeks dreading your arrival, like a house guest whose visit is awkward and embarrassing. I worry I didn’t get enough done since our last visit and vow to check off more to-dos before you come again.

This year, my feelings are mixed. I couldn’t keep you from coming, so I accept your visit and hope it’s a pleasant one. I don’t roll out the red carpet, but I don’t barricade the front door either. I simply welcome you with a cordial smile, a familiarity and a hope we’ll sit together for a few brief hours on this date for many years to come.

Wouldn’t it be great if we could let another person into our heads for a just a little bit? I know it sure would make it easier to explain why I feel the way I do.

I hate a conversation that ends with:
Person A: Does that make sense?
Person B: Well, not really.

It’s Read Across America Day — and Dr. Suess’ birthday. So, in honor, I post this quote from “I Can Read with my Eyes Shut!”

The more that you read,
the more things you will know.
The more that you learn,
the more places you’ll go.

Truer words have never been written. There’s nothing like the power of books.

As a lefty, I had to take a moment to read this New York Times article about how more Canadian hockey players are lefty shooters on the ice and more Americans are right-handed shooters.

Here’s one quote from the article: “It’s probably a cultural quirk,” offered Brian Tran, a hockey-playing sales clerk at Cyclone Taylor Sports, a Vancouver hockey store. “Everybody’s doing it one way, so you follow along.”

Interesting.

I’ve been paying attention to my daughter’s holding of Crayons and forks lately to see if she’ll be a righty or a lefty. So far, she tends to favor her right hand. While I hold fast to the fabulous notion left-handed people are incredibly intelligent and creative (it’s totally true!), I have to admit it’s tough being a lefty in a right-handed world.

For those of you who have never had to think about this, here are few examples to help you appreciate the challenges we lefties face:

• Scissors. As a child, I had a pair of lefty scissors, but as I got older, finding adult-sized left-handed scissors was near impossible. I’ve learned to cut with my right hand, which probably explains why I couldn’t cut a straight piece of wrapping paper if my life depended on it.

• Credit card machines. The pens are typically on the right, although now I am pleased to see more with the pen at the top of the machine.

• Doctor’s office clip boards. These are always positioned to the right and often those little pens that are secured to a desk are on the right-hand side. This also applies to a delivery person who hands you a clip board to sign – it’s positioned to the right and you have a help them turn it to the left.

• Notebooks. When you write with your left hand, you bump into the spiral ring on the left-hand side. This is why notepads that open from the top – or legal pads – are a good option for lefties.

• Video cameras. The strap you use when filming is on the right side and the view finder opens on the left. It would really be great if the strap were on the left side so I could hold it in my left hand and be a little more controlled in my shooting.

• Sports. Think golf, shooting a gun, buying a baseball glove (your selection is going to be limited).

• Dining with others. People always want you to sit on the outside of the booth or table so you don’t bump elbows.

• Computers. Like most people, I use a computer mouse with my right hand because as you learn to use a computer, the mouse is always on the right side so you just go with it.

Whether it’s playing hockey or everyday living, we lefties do face some challenges that right-handed people never think about. But, we don’t really mind that much – we’re too busy basking in the glow of our superior creativity and intelligence.

This week I had my 15 minutes of fame when I was included in a story for The Wall Street Journal. I was featured in an online graphic about “How the Great Recession Shaped the U.S. Job Market.” Check it out here. It was part of a larger story both in print and online titled “Even in a Recovery Some Jobs Won’t Return.” Unfortunately, newspaper reporter/editor jobs are among that mix, with the industry having lost more than 73,000 jobs.

And while I think it would have been more fun to have written the story for the WSJ, it also was cool to be included in the article. And maybe I was able to put a human face on the many job losses people have faced over the last couple of years. For so many of us it’s not just about the loss of a paycheck, it’s about the loss of dreams and goals – and that’s truly the greatest tragedy of this recession.

As last year’s holiday season rolled around, I set one goal: support more local businesses. A community organization, Lowcountry Local First, promotes buying local and has encouraged consumers to participate in the “10 percent shift” – shifting 10 percent of spending to local businesses. It also hosted a Buy Local Week to promote the idea of buying local.

So as I looked at my holiday shopping list, I wanted to shift more of my spending to small, local businesses. I’m happy to report I was fairly successful. Yes, I still purchased items at Wal-Mart, Target and Amazon.com. But … I also:

• Purchased two toys at Wonder Works just around the corner from my house. They have several of the toys set out for children to play with, which is a great way to see what piqued my daughter’s interest. They also offer layaway and free gift wrapping.

• Bought a gift basket at Ted’s Butcherblock in downtown Charleston, a great little gourmet food and wine store.

• Ordered three sets of cookie tins from Charleston Cookie Co. for my husband’s family in Arkansas and Texas.

• Bought two sweetgrass baskets from the lovely ladies at the Market in downtown Charleston.

All told, I spent more than $200 with local businesses. For the 2010 holiday season, I think I can do even better.

As we get older, our capacity for imagination tends to lessen. We live in reality – a world of mortgages, schedules, responsibilities and deadlines. But there is something about having a toddler in your house that helps you see things in a different way.

As Kate and I were eating guacamole the other night, she decided the Tostitos Scoop looked like a crown and started to put it on her head. I laughed and did the same. In fact, it did look like a crown. And so, thanks to my daughter, I occasionally get to take a break from reality and use my imagination.

Clint is away and, as you can see, I have lost complete control over the household.

I took a look back at my last blog post of 2008. Last year was by far the hardest year I’ve ever encountered and I was certain 2009 had to be better. In many ways it was, yet the challenges have remained. My great challenge has come in the final months when Clint accepted a work assignment in Africa. He left at the beginning of November for the yearlong assignment with only one visit home near the halfway point.

We didn’t make this decision lightly. We knew the extra pay he would receive would help us recover from the financial strain of my job loss in 2008. We knew it wouldn’t be easy. Clint would be living on a Navy base in Djibouti, Africa: his small room a converted shipping container; his workweek six or seven days long. It wouldn’t be a picnic.

I would be at home, essentially a single parent responsible for the household, a toddler and my own work.

The last seven weeks have been extremely difficult, and I have a renewed appreciation for single parents as well as those whose spouses are in the military or otherwise working away from home. I’m grateful for friends who have stepped in to help as it’s extra tough when you don’t have any family nearby.

I admit I’m not looking forward to 2010. It will be struggle and I miss my husband dearly. Yet, we’re trying to think long term, making a sacrifice now that we hope will pay off in the long run.

Some random thoughts on parenting:

* Could there ever be a situation in life that is filled with more ups and downs? Literally, an “up” moment and 60 seconds later a “down” moment.
* I find things I truly enjoyed before I became a parent now are no longer fun and take too much energy (and I have so little to spare).
* Having Clint working in Africa right now gives me a new appreciation for single parents. How do they maintain a shred of sanity?