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I went scrapbooking today.  I accomplished many pages and it was, in all, a productive day.  However.  There were no scrapbooking buddies.   There were other people there, as I went to a store in a town close to Ponca, but they weren’t my mom or Leah.  They didn’t make me laugh, they didn’t bother me, they were just there.  This is all to say that some hobbies are better with buddies.  And I didn’t have mine today.

I made it home, joyful to have completed as much as I did.  My husband had three fresh roses for me.  Why?  His response was, “just cause.”  It’s the Lord’s secret as to why he gave me such a sweet man.

And to wrap up this short post, I have a poll question for our married readers.  How long does it take to realize your married?  Jay and I have both discussed that we don’t always remember we’re married.  Can any of you shine some light on this?

P.S. A special hello to my Aunt Linda, whom I didn’t know read the chronicle.  It was nice to hear from you and you were missed a few weeks ago.  Much love from your niece.

We’re married.  Dr. and Mrs. Jay Locklear, as pronounced around 6 o’clock in the evening on June 7, 2008 in Kauai, Hawaii.  The day really couldn’t have been better.  When we decided to do this (and by this, I mean choosing a destination wedding where I really had no control of what was to happen) I made up my mind not to have too many expectations.  I mean, it was generally expected that the photographer would show up, the coordinator would have the flowers, etc.   I thought it might rain, but that never really played into the situation because the weather had been perfect since we arrived on Thursday.  All this to say, I couldn’t have expected more.  The weather was perfect.  My dress fit better than the day I tried it on.   The MOB and the MOG had coordinating dresses without a word as to who was wearing what.  My bouquet was gorgeous.  The photographer and videographer were kind and pleasant to work with.  The minister and his wife of 41 years was able to share some wisdom.  It was simple and easy to walk to my groom.  It was natural to say the vows.  It was lovely.

The name of this publication will remain the same, The Phippsonian Chronicle.  I’ll always be a Phipps.  My grandpa Phipps, whom we referred to as Papaw, had three sons.  A generation later, he had six granddaughters.  I believe I am the last to marry and the last to give up her last name.  For him, we’ll keep the same title.  For my new husband, I’ll joyfully sign my name, Deborah Locklear.

I would like to take this opportunity to thank any and everyone who helped or prayed for or loved Jay or I through the years.  We’re both grateful for those we’ve known and how they have impacted our lives.  We’ve shared stories with each other explaining how we know some of you or experiences we’ve known with you.   We wouldn’t be the same without each one.  We thank you.

I used to live out in the garage, but my old owner left me on the kitchen counter.  I woke up one morning, and the next, and the next, and the next, I was still on the kitchen counter.  A nice lady, whom eventually became my new owner, put me in a pile with other things that didn’t live on the kitchen counter.  I woke up one morning, and the next, and the next, and I was still on the kitchen counter.  The nice lady was cooking one day and opened a little jar of nutmeg.  There was a really tight seal and she didn’t want to break a finger nail.  For the first time in days I got to do my job!  I opened the seal like a champ.  That is precisely when she became my new owner.  She even told me that I did such a great job that I should live in the “kitchen gadget” drawer.  So I packed my things and moved in.  I loved it in there.  There were all kinds of new friends.  They thought I was interesting because I am green.  I’m the only green one in the whole drawer.  One day, I heard my old owner on the phone.  My new owner was out of town for a while and I heard him ask her, “Do you know where my green pliars are?”  I couldn’t hear her very well, but I’m pretty sure she said, “My new green pliars are in the kitchen gadget drawer.  That’s his new home.”  My old owner thinks I should move back to the garage with all the other tools that used to make fun of me because I was green, but my new owner has assured me that won’t happen.