A couple of years ago, Titanic Pigeon Forge opened and my darling husband said to me several dozen times, "We should totally go see that." The only thing Otto likes better than cars is other big vehicles, like boats and subs and airplanes and stuff. Apparently a really big boat that hits an iceberg is WAY up on the list of Cool Things. Being the loving, supportive partner than I am, I responded with, "Mmmmhmmm," and went back to whatever it was I was doing. But then one day we all got an email from Merry that said, "Hey, I was thinking it might be a really cool Hippie School trip for us all...
If you're an American, I'm sure I don't have to tell you what today is, or what you need to go do. Instead, I'm over at Feel More Better revealing my embarrassment about how I wish I'd learned to love voting sooner. I can't change the past, so I'll just be deeply grateful that I figured it out (and was able to get out and vote today). You do it too, okay? Thanks.
Oh hey, I almost forget to tell you that I'm over at Feel More Better, today, wondering how to remember the right things. It seems like we too often forget the good stuff, while many times what we'd happily forget forever just refuses to leave our memory banks. I haven't figured it out. I mean, other than simply wishing to have a memory like a dog---time passes quickly when things are bad, and happy feelings seem to trump all. That seems like a pretty good deal.
Before Chickadee left, she made me load Draw Something onto my phone. "It's super fun," she said. "We can play together and you will love it, I promise!" My drawing skills are rudimentary at best, but on my tiny phone screen with my suddenly-fat-feeling finger, there are kindergarteners who look like Da Vinci compared to me. My drawings are straight up terrible. The only way she can possibly guess anything I draw is when I write hints over the top of my scribbles. "You're real super good at this," she commented one day. You wouldn't think sarcasm could drip off of a phone screen, AND YET....
My mother-in-law's funeral was lovely. I know people say that---"Oh, wasn't it nice!"---and it always seems weird to me because what exactly is nice about a body in a box? But it was the perfect mix of respectful and irreverent. I think she would've approved. We flew home first thing on Friday morning, and drove straight from the airport to the hospital. Half an hour of paperwork later, Chickadee was free and clear. She hugged us and chatted on and on and bounced through most of the ride home. Once there, we sorted through a week's worth of mail while Chickie began digging around in her room...
I am 41 years old, and my experience with death of loved ones is remarkably scant. My parents are still alive. My grandparents' deaths were long ago and I was mostly shielded from whatever rituals were executed after their passing. I have a relatively small family and a small group of friends, and the fortune of not having lost anyone from those circles in adulthood. Until my ex's father died, I had never been to a funeral. (I tell people that and they think I'm exaggerating or joking. No, really. The first funeral I ever attended was for my then-father-in-law, and I had no idea what was...
First: A thank you, which feels inadequate, but is necessary, because y'all are nice and I love you, man! And I don't even want your Bud Light. You are all lovely and I appreciate you so much. Second: Please know that my intention in indulging in a bit of woe-is-me "Why do people DO THAT??" whining is just... venting. Wallowing. Many of you were quick to jump on the SCREW THE BASTARDS train in response---and I get that comes from protectiveness and caring and kindness---but in my logical non-hurty-emotional mind parts I know that in general people do not hurt us on purpose. In specific for...
It's Tuesday, so that means I'm over at Feel More Better. It's also the 11th anniversary of 9/11, and so I am thinking about what unexpected tragedy means in our everyday life, but I have to warn you, I don't have any profound, meaningful way to sum it all up. There's no platitudes that make it okay. The reality is that sometimes awful things happen out of the blue, and somehow we have to keep going, anyway. (I have yet to see that on a Hallmark card.) Regardless, my thoughts and prayers are with the families who lost loved ones eleven years ago today.
Thank you for yesterday---for the recipes, for the lack of judgment when I admitted how very low I had somehow managed to sink, for the encouragement. I remain grateful for all of you. I now have a new subfolder in my recipes folder, called Sweet Potato Riot. This amuses me. I can't wait to try more of the ideas y'all gave me. Yesterday I ended up starting to make stock (I just happened to have a turkey carcass in my freezer; doesn't everyone?) for soup and then I remembered that it was 95 degrees outside and that I didn't want soup. I froze the stock and made a sweet potato hash (suggested...
