Mason and Joy,

You two are infinitely lucky to have found each other; the two of you together are almost as lucky as Mason solely is to have found a woman who can deal with having a boy who takes longer to get ready than she does. You'd think a man with no hair could shit, shower, and shave in about twenty minutes rather than two hours.

But I digress.

You guys have a lot of good things in front of you, whether it's making your home together, learning every minute detail about the other, having children, cooking meals together, or whatever it is that you're most excited about. These things make daily life worth living. Remember every day that you are each special and perfect in your flaws and that you each make up half of a team that will best succeed if you always try to work together.

Now, for the part of this letter that falls into the "reality" category.

You are going to piss each other off SO BAD. There will be days that you would rather bash yourselves in the face with a large, wooden meat tenderizer than to speak to each other for another moment. This marriage stuff gets difficult and confusing and excruciating at times. What I hope is that you guys are able to persevere, able to remember why you felt like you couldn't live another day without being married to each other, able to remember all the little things about each other that make you smile.

And, really, I don't have any special, secret, married person advice for you guys that you couldn't figure out for yourselves or read in a fortune cookie. What I have learned is that every day is different, and sometimes it's hard to stay on the same page. There are days when I have thought "WHAT have I gotten myself into?", days when I've thought "HOW can one man eat so many bags of lime tortilla chips?', days when I've thought "If I can just bang my head up against this shovel ten or fifteen more times, maybe I can knock myself out." It is fun and exciting and scary and very, very hard to live with another person, especially when it's NOT a roommate situation in which you can just keep thinking, "At least this year will be over soon." It's FOREVER and ever and ever and ever, which means you don't have any easy outs. You have to work and work and work, and learn how to let things go quickly and thoroughly, how to balance out the other's flaws with your strengths, and how to let the other balance out your flaws with his strengths.

For a person who is totally obsessive and a bit of a control freak, a person such as oh I don't know MYSELF, it can be a confusing path to travel.

Mason, I've known you for a long time. One of my earliest memories of you is driving you to Jack's Quick Stop so you could buy me a pack of cigarettes. I was fifteen years old, and I had managed to talk my mom into letting me drive her car to your parents' apartment because they lived pretty close. I cruised through a stop sign on the way, and you said, "Buffy, be sure to always stop at that stop sign. Sometimes cops sit up there and pull people over for running it, and I don't want you to get into trouble." Because that's what you do- you take care of people. You think about other people and what you can do to help them. I'm lucky to know you, and I hope that we'll always be friends. I'm happy for you that you've found someone who makes you so happy and so secure and so unafraid to live your life the way that YOU want to.

Joy, I don't know you very well yet, but I hope that I'm going to get the opportunity to know you better. Mason has been happier and more carefree since he's been with you than I've heard him in a long time. If he loves you this much and is so sure of you, then I know you must be awesome.

I love you guys. Call me if y'all ever need someone to scrub your countertops with bleach.

Buffy

Breakfast.

Breakfast.
Originally uploaded by buffpuff

Today Reed had some Peeps for breakfast- white, marshmallowy sugar goodness with some green sugar goodness on top. He seriously LOVES the Peeps.

And, to think, I had the audacity to complain about Mary feeding Kane and Jude cotton candy for breakfast. The woman is a genius.

School's out for summer.

Today I spent the day in a building without air conditioning. In Alabama. At the end of May. In 85 degree weather.

I'm pretty bitchy when I get hot, so let's just say that I have been a PLEASURE to deal with on this day.

I've been thinking a lot about a whole lot of stuff that I'm not at liberty to speak of, on account of I don't want to get fired AGAIN for my blog. Which makes for very interesting reading for you guys. Hey, if any of you guys ever want to get together and listen to me complain about having to get out of bed every day, CALL ME.

Finally, today was the last day of school for Kane and Jude, also known as The Day We Get To Go To Mom's and Get Out From Under Buffy's Fascist Regime For A Whole Three Months, and let me tell you it couldn't get here soon enough. Kane has been spending most of his time on the internet, and Jude has been spending most of his time secretly giving me the finger. They're totally ready to escape to the land of dirt, candy, and all-night television. Jude spent the last few days trying to convince us that he shouldn't go to school today; he told us that the buses weren't running (they were), that they weren't serving lunch (they were), and that his teacher told him that he OUGHT to just stay home (THAT one I believe because the less kids the better, you know?). We decided that we really didn't mind if they didn't go today, but alas Jason and I both had to work, so there wasn't anyone to stay with them, including their mom who had other stuff to do today. And it DOES take some preparation to deal with these kids; Jude is in the midst of a full-on, middle child syndrome attack. His mom informed Jason that Jude has been trying to get presents by saying, "If you loved me, you'd buy this for me" and crying in the middle of the store, also known as The K-Fed method. She told Jason that the only thing that gets him to calm down is to say, "Am I going to have to call your dad?" We both agreed that the even better way to set him straight would be to say, "Am I going to have to call Buffy?" Trust me; THAT would scare the shit right out of him.

So we take the kids to the library pretty frequently to check out books and movies since it gives us all something to do and is free, since, you know, I refuse to spend money on the urchins. Usually the deal is Kane and Jude each get to pick one or two books and one movie each. Normally I wouldn't advocate putting a limit on reading material, but you have NO idea how often they lose stuff, and how often we subsequently pay for that stuff.

Yesterday we made one of those trips. Kane picked a book that is too easy for him and Jude picked a book that is too hard for him, so all was as usual. Kane picked a movie based on the computer game that came with it which he couldn't play because we have Macs and those games are always for PC.

Jude picked Aquamarine, a touching tale about three pre-teen girls, one of which is a mermaid. This CRACKED me UP to no end, but I didn't let Jude see that there was anything odd about it since I didn't want to damage his delicate sensibilities. On the way home when I asked what the hell that movie was about, Jude recited the whole story line with no trouble whatsoever. Something about the mermaid wants to be a regular person, so her dad Triton (!) tells her that she has to prove that true love exists in three days or he's going to flood the earth. CINEMA AT ITS FINEST, PEOPLE. He ended with, "It's REALLY good. We saw it when it came out in the theatre." I can't really explain it, but the picture in my head of Kane, Jude, and their mom sitting in a dark theatre totally riveted by this teenage angsty girly movie almost makes my eyes pop right out of my head from all the laughing.

We found out last week that this same guy, this same kid Jude, got into RLC. DUH.

I have some things I'd like to say.

Peter Petrelli, you are a SEXY BADASS with all that intensity, even if you do have the Stalone lip a little bit.

Claire, quit whining already. Seriously, that's enough.

Noah, you scare my balls right out of the sack, if you will, even if you are actually a good guy.

Hiro, run a comb over that muppet head!

Nathan Petrelli, you're dead, dude. Or are you?

Today I encountered a woman who told me that "Middle Eastern people always want something for nothing," and that the majority of them are "a problem".

Then she laughed and said, "I guess that makes me sound racist!"

I laughed and said, "There ain't no sound about it, lady; that makes you BE racist!"

Well, I didn't say it out loud, but I wanted to.

You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.

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Pimp Chalice Craft Night, and my new mantra.

"Everybody's got to believe in something. I believe I'll have another beer."
-- W. C. Fields

Pimp Chalice Craft Night at the Bottletree was a total hit. We had a great time, made some awesome chalices, and drank some beers. Kristi finally had an occasion to which she could wear her mumu, and I finally had an occasion at which I could walk around and tell people what to do.

WAIT, woops! I do that every day.

We had an attendance of about eighteen people, which really is awesome because when the last two girls showed up it was difficult to find a place for them so sit and pimp. But we worked it out, thanks in no small part to Brock's begrudging willingness so seek out power strips and extension cords for us to use. Paint was slathered on, hot glue was gunned, and much bling found its destiny last night. My new chalice is even better than the first one. Jason photographed the whole thing, and I'm sure I'll nag him into uploading those soon, so be on the lookout.

Do you have anything to do with your tired ass tonight?

No?

You should come to Pimp Chalice Craft Night, and craft yourself a fine lookin' pimp chalice. It's at the Bottletree from 8 'til 10, and it's definitely going to be a good time.

Got some hoes to pimp but just don't have the right chalice for the job? Come see us. We can help.

The Green Wave.

Originally uploaded by buffpuff.

I went to my ten-year high school reunion on Saturday night.

No, that's not me in the picture; it's Ashley. But we're both complete idiots, so I think it's okay to let her represent this night and what it means to me.

I have to say that the actual reunion at Pine Tree Country Club was a little tense and quiet. Not bizarrly so, not totally uncomfortable, but just a little weird. About the time we left, I think everyone had JUST had enough to drink to loosen up a little bit.

Kristi and I had already planned to go karaoke at the Upper Deck in Homewood or I'm really sure we would have gone with our old friend Kelly to the Yacht Club, a place that she kept referring to as "alternative". When she explained what that meant to a group of the boys we graduated with, they pointed at me and said, "We're going to HER bar."

I thought it was a funny joke until we arrived at the Upper Deck to find several tables pushed together at which were about half of the people who attended the class reunion. A TOTAL SURPRISE. And a pleasant one, at that.

The night proceeded to be COMPLETELY BIZARRE. It was like being back in high school, except without the discomfort and self-hatred. It was like the reason that high school reunions are invented- I got a chance to totally and completely just be friends with a lot of people I missed out on in high school. It was nice.

And, hey, Ashley made that face up there. And Beau shook his ass like a stripper. And Matt actually stripped a little. It must have been good.

No thanks.

So John Fucking Tesh was doing this really titillating segment earlier on married couples and the 437 things that you should never do because if you do them it will kill your marriage.

Don't ever play the victim. Don't ever put your own needs before your spouse's. Don't use too much "me" talk. Don't ever talk badly about your spouse to your friends or family.

I was pretty skeptical throughout most of it, but when he got to that last one I immediately thought, "Okay, this guy has OBVIOUSLY never been married, and if he has it's probably to some bow head who desperately wants to sign a petition in support of Paris Hilton.

Good answer.

A couple of weeks ago, Jason had a long talk with Kane and Jude and told them that he wanted them to clean their room, to really clean it, throw out broken toys and old homework, put everything in its place. I honestly didn't think it would happen, but that night they totally overhauled their room, and threw away three garbage bags full of stuff.

The next evening I noticed something odd in the bathroom garbage can. Upon further inspection I found that it was a pair of Jude's underwear. The underwear was perfectly intact, and really didn't even look dirty. I pulled them out and went to Jude and said, "Why did you throw away a pair of underwear?"

He looked at me blankly for a moment, and then he got his "I'm really thinking very hard" look, and said, "Uuuuuuum, I've slept since then, so I really don't know."

I don't need Thomas Dolby; I blind myself with science.

Oh, holy shit. I just realized that I forgot to mention the VERY BEST PART about Josh's graduation party Saturday night. Was it when Lindsey threw his cake in the back yard? No. Was it the fact that Josh graduated from college with his double major in I'm Smarter Than You and I Might As Well Go Ahead and Sign Up To Be a Professor? Of course not.

The best part was when we were all sitting outside, smoking cigarettes and drinking beers, playing guitar and having a sing-along, and I decided that I had to go to the bathroom so, in front of five or ten of my good friends and five or ten people from out of town I'd never met before, at about 9:30, very shortly after we'd arrived, before I even finished my first beer, I got up and WALKED INTO THE CLOSED SCREEN DOOR.

It was AWESOME.

Seriously, the last time I did that was when I was eight years old, and I wast at my aunt CJ's condo in Pensacola, Florida. Instead of walking into the SCREEN door, I RAN into the closed GLASS sliding door, and it was not only emotionally painful but physically painful to boot.

This time, nearly twenty years later, I was mortified for about three seconds. Then I realized, hey, this way they automatically know not to speak in long sentences or use big words when they talk to me, but to speak slowly in short sentences and nod and smile a lot, and maybe I'd just leave them alone.

The funny part was that immediately after I did it, I stood perfectly still thinking that maybe, just maybe, no one had even seen it. The sudden rising chorus of "Hell yeah!" and "Damn, Buffy" and "Look out!" and "Woah, good job!" alerted me to fact that, yes, every single person on the patio had seen it. When murders and rapes occur, there are often no witnesses at all, but when I walk like an idiot straight into a screen door, there are twenty. TWENTY.

And, you know, it makes sense, because the door was right behind where Josh was sitting, playing the guitar, and everyone else was sitting or standing so that they could watch and listen to him play. So it was like that time I stumbled onto the stage at a Green Day show and did a line off Billy Joe's ass expecting no one to see- it just wasn't logical.

By the way...

I've had a couple of thoughts. I do think, every now and then. Just not that often.

I think it's nice that people stop by here pretty often to say nice things, to say "how funny" or "good job" or "don't worry", or if you're Jason, The One Who Comments, something like "I don't actually think that's correct" or "nuh-UH!". I love it. LOVE IT. I encourage it completely and if I had just a little more money I'd give everyone who commented a dollar and a large sweet tea with each comment.

No matter how nice it is to hear nice things, I still really like hearing the not so nice things, the "you can't do math" and the "you need help" and the "WHATEVS LOL BEOTCH ROFLZ". Really I love to know that people are reading. Loving my ass like God taught you is not required. I love for people to disagree. LOVE IT.

What is funny to me is the fact that almost every single person who ever has something nice or funny to say signs it, either with their actual name or their nickname if I know them, or a link to their blog if I don't. Yet, a large majority of the people who are just dying to say something ugly are anonymous. It's funny how brave and bold you can be sitting behind a dark curtain. How bold is it, really, to say what you think if you're afraid to own up to it?

I assume that, if anyone reads this and just REALLY HAS to disagree with me or try to explain why they wouldn't want to put their name on a comment, they'll say things like "I don't want my name out there on the internet" or "I don't feel the need to attempt to glorify myself or show off by putting my name on it" or "I just didn't have the time, after the 45 minutes it took me to hunt and peck out 'UR A BICH', to find the letters to my name". But I just don't really buy it. I think it's odd that people would take the time to say these things that they wouldn't own up to.

Just a thought.

Jason, you're The One Who Is About To Have A PhD In Psychology. What do you think about it?

Cinco de Mayos and graduations and how your vagina can get you into trouble.

Oh, yes.
Originally uploaded by buffpuff.

We went to Josh's graduation party last night, and it was a good time. Jason let his hair down, I pulled mine up, and then we humped each other on the dance floor also known as Dave's living room. NICE.

I know someone who had an abnormal pap smear and has to have her cervix biopsied. Scary stuff; if it were me, I'd be freaking out. She's really worried that it's an awful procedure, really painful and whatnot. I imagine that it's easier to worry about that than to sit and think about the outcome. I mean, I KNOW that everything will be fine. Jesus and I have already talked about it. But if I was in that situation I probably wouldn't feel so sure of myself.

I know someone else who has spent a lot of time telling herself that things will get better, and trying to have faith in someone who continues to let her down. I know that feeling- how that little fluttery thing that happens in your stomach can make you put up with large amounts of intense pain in your head and heart. I just hope that things get better, way better, from here on out, no matter what "better" turns out to be.

I hope that both of these girls know that I'll be there if they need me, through thick or thin, all the way to the outcome and on to the other side of it.

Our wedding.

Our wedding, Jason's and mine, was the best day ever, second only to the day Reed was born. They were both happy days- the wedding day was just a lot less bloody and physically painful, and instead of bringing life into the world we collectively killed millions and millions of brain cells with shots, shooters, and beers. And martinis. And wine. MILLIONS AND MILLIONS.

The day started slowly, as we had the bright idea the day before to share a PITCHER of frozen margaritas. At Moe's. And people, you know how I love the Moe's, but I have never again since that day had the margaritas there. They use shitty tequila there, and it will come back on you tenfold, even if it IS the happiest day of your life. Because Montezuma, he doesn't give a fuck about your wedding.

Once Jason finally dragged me out of bed around 11:00 a.m. we showered and pretty much went our separate ways. Jason picked Kane and Jude up and dropped them off with his mom, except Jude threw a fit to go with Jason so they went together to my mom's house where he finished the groom's cake, and then he went to the hotel where his parents were staying to get dressed and ready. I showered and headed to my mom's house, where we were getting married, to do my make-up and finish with the last of the decorations and get dressed.

My aunt CJ was there, and I was telling her about the awful cramping and diarhea, and she was like, "OOO, that's the cold feet!" And I was like, "NO, that's the shitty tequila! My God! I wish I'd never had a margarita ever!" I've learned not to say things like "God, I'll never drink again." Because, really, no one likes a liar.

The ceremony started around 5:30 with just our immediate families in attendance, and my dad walked me down the long hallway to the living room. Jason and I were married in front of the fire place by an old family friend named Lindy Martin. It was lovely and short and sweet and Jason teared up when he said his vows, probably because he's said them once before and he couldn't figure out how he'd gotten roped into this again.

By 6:00 p.m. people started to show up for the reception, the food was put on the tables- jambalaya and red beans and rice and hummus and tabouli and cakes and cookies and cheese and crackers. The alcohol started to flow and pretty soon the house was packed- my boss and coworkers, our families and friends, cousins of mine I hadn't seen in years, aunts and cousins of Jason's who I'd never met before, and some I'd met the one and only time at his grandmother's funeral, a story that is painfully funny or at least painful that I will tell another time. I managed to spill apple martini down the front of my dress OVER AND OVER throughout the evening.

Jason and I handed out hugs and accepted hugs and laughed and talked and drank and had a really good time. It was a really beautiful evening.

Off the subject, do you feel the need to be disturbed? Do you? Here you go.

This thing called happy.

Originally uploaded by buffpuff.

This life, this one right here, has calmed down for a few minutes. I mean I know I'm jinxing it, but it has been, like, twenty minutes without a "now what?", and I'm getting a little used to it.

Shit.

I was out taking pictures this morning, and I found a horse shoe at Lake Purdy. I picked it up because I thought maybe it's lucky. My mom said, "Sure it's lucky!" and Jason said that since it actually came off a horse- it still has the nails in it and everything- that makes it more lucky.

Also, I've lost twelve pounds since March 13.

Now, tonight we have to do some kind of experiment with dry ice and balloons for Kane's science fair, so if you're sitting there thinking how you hate me and my life shouldn't be this good, don't worry. Things change.