Merica….. that is all. Carry on.
I only have a couple minutes to indulge in blogging today so I just thought I would leave some random thoughts/vents/wonderings that flit about in my mind all day for ya’ll to enjoy.
1. Why is it that when you’re driving, and there is literally no one behind you for miles, the one car that needs to turn on the road pulls out right in front of you. You really couldn’t wait that extra second for me to pass? People are a special kind of stupid.
2. Coke really is better than Pepsi.
3. Temper tantrums are really unattractive, and not excusable, when you are older the age of like 7.
4. That one woman who works at the local deli in Walmart must really hate her life. I’ve never seen someone so monotone or unsmiling in all of my life.
5. I’ve learned from personal experience that the media, including the news, is so biased and only reports what they think is catchy. I will never again trust that I am reading the whole story.
6. Vanilla Bean Noel is the best fragrance from Bath and Body Works.
7. Why do people go to court looking like the midnight Walmart visitors?
8. Speaking of midnight Walmart visitors…why do people go out in curlers and pajamas? I really don’t think there is anything at Walmart you need that badly to be walking around looking foolish.
9. Do guys really find the duck face attractive? Do girls really think they look attractive like that?
10. Why do people by Ipods over Droids? They suck!
For those of you who follow my young blog, you may remember that I live in a small beach town in the south. If not, take a look back at You Don’t Look God With Socks and Sandals. I’d be pretty spot-on if I made the claim that I live in small town USA. However, I do have to give credit where credit is due and say that my little hometown is larger than the one-traffic-light towns you read about and see on T.V. We have almost 4,000 residents in our little niche in America. I just tried Googling what the average population of a city in the US is, and I gave up. I think, however, that I am safe to take the liberty to say that our four-thousand is well below average. If I’m wrong, sue me.
I grew up adorned with skinned knees, knowing when it was dinner time by my Dad’s piercing whistle, sore from my ass getting beat if I was disrespectful or naughty, and genuinely happy and enriched. I also grew up somewhat sheltered. It wasn’t until school that I realized people were not “all the same” or “created equally”. Atticus, an Officer of the Court, upholder of justice and law, instilled those values in his children from a very early age. I learned quickly that it is not how a person looks or in what circumstance they were born that makes them who they are, but how they live; how they overcome adversity; what standard they hold their life too. I never thought that people were better/worse off than another because he was colored, rich/poor, or different. It all came down to the makeup of the person and how they chose to progress their life. I don’t believe it is right to pass judgement on someone, that is God’s task. I know, however, that human err is great and we species pass judgement on each other every day. I’m guilty of this myself. However, I believe it is even more damnable to segregate ourselves or each other due to shallow,predetermined, and superficial judgments. I affirm that if a person be judged, judge them on the impact they put on this world, not how they look carrying out that task.
Whenever I got to school I soon realized people will ostracize themselves into their own little groups. It starts out small in earlier school days like the smart kids, the popular kids, the athletes, etc; the real cliché groups. It’s when I hit high school that it got interesting. The groups diversified and consolidated into tight niches that ironically enough, became a reflection of the society we have here in Beachville.
It was so apparent, much like how you can tell “who a person is” by what housing area they live in, that if you walked out into the courtyard, which was a square in the center of the school, you could see the different sections visibly. The “rednecks” literally had a wall of the school specifically for themselves. I remember this so clearly because I could not believe it. We were still, obviously, in high school and were immature and unrefined with our young age, so our “clicks” hadn’t become as universal as they do later after graduation. In high school you have hipsters, skaters, athletes, drama club, band, rednecks, Blacks, Asians, Mexicans, the popular, pot-heads, sluts, nerds, ROTC, goths, the gays, and the complete outcasts. Then, of course, you had the multi-faceted beings who ping-ponged between multiple clicks.
Then there were people like me: I tried to be a friend to all, but never belonged to one group in particular. I wasn’t necessarily a “lone wolf”, but I was lonely. Anyways, you can see that from an objective eye, these groups don’t go away after you enter the “real world”, but they just consolidate even further to become vast and inclusive groups. You have the rich vs. poor, country-folk vs. city-slickers, religion vs. religion, race vs. race, Republican vs. Democrat, Coke vs. Pepsi…you get the idea. The groups are so much more prodigious, because as we get older we lose a lot of our identity. We divide ourselves by the big “dividers”; race, religion, income, background, etc. This isn’t any better, or any worse, than how we did it in high school really. I mean sure, everyone wants to feel like they belong to someone or something. I draw the line at taking issue with someone because they picked a different group to belong too.
Beachville is much like anywhere else you would visit in America; we have the basic “classes” and most of the time we live in relative harmony. Most of the time. Then, during the summer, we have “tourons” come down to fuck shit up and then we get a tad hostile. (Insert ironic and hypocritical comment like, “Damn those Yankees!”) That’s how this world is, until someone changes it.
I watched Cloud Atlas this weekend. It’s horrible…don’t watch it. The best part of the whole dreadful three-hour letdown, that relates to my contention in this post in regards to people changing, was a quote one of the characters said to a man who told him: “No matter what you do it will never amount to anything more than a single drop in a limitless ocean.”
The man responded by saying, “What is an ocean but a multitude of drops?”
And he walked away.
The yellow transportation device from hell bumped along the road the same way it did every day. I, a veteran of school bus transportation, had mastered the art of laying my head on the window while reading. If you weren’t careful, a surprise bump would catch you off guard and knock your head against the metal bar frames and have you seeing stars. My nose was stuck in some book and our bus made it’s scheduled stops; I didn’t even look up.
Suddenly, the seat beside me sank in with the pressure of another body. That’s weird, I usually get to sit alone.
I looked over into the face that haunted me for years to come. Mr. Mohawk’s hair was blonde (and can you guess how it was styled?), his eyes were warm brown, and his teeth were beautifully white and straight…and I was staring. Throughout that bus ride I made friends with a boy I would go on to be friends with throughout my middle school days and some of my time in high school. I thought he was the most beautiful person I had ever seen, and he was so sweet to me.
We began our friendship during my prepubescent years, where I could count on one hand the amount of guys that were interested in me. Even then, they only would deign to “date” me if I did their homework. This is completely non-fiction; I really couldn’t make that up. A boy, who I also finished high school with, told a girlfriend of mine that he would “go out” with me, only if I did his homework. Then he grew up into an ugly little shit, and I blossomed. Justice for all nerdy women out there.
Anyways, I think I fell in love with him because of the fact that he was so kind to me when every other guy was turned towards the big breasts and short skirts. I also believe that I mistook his kindness and innocent flirtation as interest. I don’t like to think that he led me on for years, but what do I know about it really?
It’s actually very ironic, and if you could see me now I have a grin on my face remembering this, but Mr. Mohawk (who eventually got rid of that hideous haircut) was the first boy to get me a Valentines Day gift. It was beautiful and couldn’t have been more perfect if it was diamond jewelry. It was exactly what I had been dying for since I first locked eyes with his, and I cherished it deeply. It was a hand-drawn picture of a heart with writing on it. It was filled with cute little sayings like, “Be Mine”, etc. I kept it pinned to my wall until one day, out of meanness, my two brothers ripped it apart. It’s funny to think back to the day when he gave it to me. I can picture myself now red with pleasure, and hot with passion. I wanted him so bad; not sexually, I was still very innocent then. I wanted him to love me the way I loved him, and I believed he never knew the way I felt about him.
[Another small digression and anecdote for you, dear reader, is another Valentine’s Day story that has stuck in my memory. I was even younger than my memory’s of dear Mr. Mohawk. I was in elementary school, and you all know that is the age where you have to get everyone a Valentine’s Day card. Well, our class was passing out our Valentines, and I had passed all of mine out and was waiting at my desk for the rest of the class to finish. It just so happens that my crush, at that time, was coming around to the row I sat in. I sat there, pretending not to care, watching as he came down the isle. He gave every single person, in succession, a Valentine’s Day card, but when he came to my desk he skipped right over me. I was so young and fragile and completely devastated that I cried in my mother’s lap that afternoon after school, until my eyes ran dry. Valentine’s Day, as you can see, had never been a happy day for me, unfortunately.]
This went on, me pining after him and him dating other girls while we stayed very close friends, until he eventually moved away and I moved on. You know how guys always talk about how they are “friend-zoned”? Well that was me for years. I never made a move on him, because I wanted him to make a move on me first. That’s the way I was raised, anyways. The boldest I ever was with him was to rub his hair and ask for his jacket when I was cold. Needless to say he gave it to me, and I kept it for a long time after that.
I don’t think of him too often, but when I do it is always with a smile. He never was hurtful to me, and we never parted harshly. He was the kind of love where I daydreamed about him, wrote a beautiful poem dedicated to him, treasured little reminders of him, and was heartbroken often at his frustratingly sweet but distant affections. Before he came into my world like a shooting star with a slow-burning flame, I knew I was a girl. It wasn’t until I fell head over heels with Mr. Mohawk, however, that I learned what it felt to truly be feminine and want to be womanly and desired. That is a lesson I have never forgotten and learned to hone and sharpen, much like a blacksmith sharpens a blade; meticulously and with care.
Today I will be spending Valentine’s Day with the man I love who has quite a job in store for him; topping last year. It was nice, however, to take a couple of minutes and think back on my history with this holiday. Only since I have met Matt have I really ever felt special on this date, or period for that matter. I thank God, and him, for that every day.
Happy Valentine’s Day everyone!
Dear future SayAnthing,
If you are wondering why exactly I decided to write you, my future self, it is because last night as I tossed and turned in bed, I decided it would be an interesting idea. If you can remember, however far away you are, when we were younger we wrote one of these. It was sometime during high school and we were supposed to get it back during senior year before we graduated. Does it surprise you for me to say we never ended up getting it anyways? Probably not, since it didn’t surprise me then and it doesn’t now. Just another wasted project.
I hope this letter makes it to where you are one way or another. I think that by putting it here on the World Wide Web, it will forever be here for you to find. I’ll also print out a copy and keep it somewhere for you to happen across one day while you are cleaning your probably messy room. Time hasn’t been able to change that bad habit yet. I hope however far away you are, you have finally mastered the art of a hanger and the idea of a laundry basket. Seriously.
Well let me give you some clues as to where we are in our life at the moment in time that I happen to be drafting this letter to myself. I am twenty-one years old. I have ordered a drink in a restaurant three times since then and have only been carded once. Disappointing. Anyways, I am still working at Dad’s law firm. Ruby quit a couple of months ago, and Zooey has taken her place. It is only three days away from Valentines Day, and a week away from our anniversary with Matt. To see if you are still the same as I am now, I’ve picked some random questions from the internet (and my own head):
Favorite Bands: The Amity Affliction, Hollywood Undead, Rise Against (of course), ADTR (of course), Atreyu, BFMV, Close Your Eyes, Parkway Drive, etc.
Television/Movies: FRIENDS (always), Downton Abbey, and Supernatural.
Favorite Coffee Flavor: Folgers Mocha Swirl
Latest Boycott: Starbucks.
Latest Tattoo: Monkey behind ear.
Current Car: 2005 Nissan Sentra
Cigarettes: Marlboro Skylines
Chocolate/Vanilla: Always Chocolate
Favorite novels: Outlander, A Tree Grows In Brooklyn, To Kill a Mockingbird, Divergent.
Are you a good singer?: If you value heart and conviction above any kind of talent, then yes I am.
Whats your favorite pizza topping? Cheese and extra cheese.
Have you ever flown a kite? I think I must have flown a kite, but I honestly can’t remember. If I have, it didn’t make that much of an impression on me.
How often do you buy new clothes? Whenever I’ve grown out of the ones I currently own, when there are too many rips, holes, or stains for the article of clothing to be of any more use, or if Matt finally has gotten me to the mall.
Do you prefer liquid soap or bars of soap? I prefer liquid soap for dishes, washing my hands, or laundry. I prefer a clump of soap from my shea butter soap. That’s another thing I am using at this time, future me; shea butter soap. I swear by it.
Whats your preferred playing piece in monopoly? Car.
Have you ever sailed a boat? Nope
Do you think babies are little bundles of joy or smelly noisy things? Bundles of joy.
Have you ever been to a live concert? Hell yes. My favorite to this day would be Rise Against and Hollywood Undead.
Have you ever eaten anything prepared by a celebrity chef? Negative. I hope, future me, that you have eaten something of Gordon Ramsey’s.
Would you ever sign a Prenuptial agreement? Nope.
Do you like your own name? I’ve always loved my real name. It’s original and beautiful.
How much would it cost to buy your love? Matt has bought my love with his; otherwise, my love is not for sale.
Whats your current Mobile phone model and do you like it? LG Optimus. Heck yeah…I’ve nickamed it Optimus Prime.
Anyways, I hope that you haven’t changed too much. It wouldn’t hurt for you to be a couple of pounds lighter, with a clearer face, and whiter teeth but those are just material. I wonder where you will be sitting when you find this letter (either version: internet or paper). Wherever you are, it has to be better than today. Today is a dreary day in which no amount of coffee or AC/DC can touch the oozing and miserable gray that colors the view from outside my window.
This is the second week within a months time where the coast is being doused in water and then preserved in ice. It’s like a bad love song outside and it makes me long for Spring. If I were at home with Matt, and we were cuddled up with coffee and Downton Abbey, I would be much happier. As it is, I am sitting at my desk taking advantage of the fact that Atticus and Zooey are in a meeting, typing away to you, literally feeling the hairs on my legs regrow in this chilled air. Abigail, who at this point in time is in the process of blooming into a beautiful young woman, is fixing my calendar which was two months behind. Her long brown hair is the epitome of how I wish my hair was, and the object of the majority of my jealousy. Across from us is Hutch, who of course is plugged into his headphones and shooting dark and amused looks at me over the windowsill. Abigail may be Josh’s protegé, but Hutch is mine…even if he doesn’t know it or acknowledge it. This might not sound boring to you, future me, but my back is also screaming in frustration at my posture for the past few hours, I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, and the past few weeks have been hell on my poor nerves.
Future me, if you didn’t immediately get that “my poor nerves” is a play off of the movie ‘Pride and Prejudice’ (the good one) then remember that now, because I really don’t talk like that.
I just realized that you might not be too fond of me. I am the past you. Wherever you are right now, I am about to make some mistakes in my future (but in your past) that got you where you are. Well don’t be too hard on me, because I probably won’t know I’m making a mistake when I do. That’s how I, we, have learned anything up to this point. Even Tyler, I wouldn’t wish away. The reason is, is because he put me on the path to Matt whether I realized it then or not. Even if that is the only reason, the only purpose of our entire relationship was for me to meet Matt (which we know isn’t true), I wouldn’t wish Tyler erased. Matt is worth it. I hope, wherever you are, I haven’t screwed up your life too much. If I have, forgive me. But if I have, then get your shit together.
If you have, God forbid, lost your way, take a couple of minutes to read some words of advice from the best person you could listen to…yourself. Though this may be better reversed, I’ll still give it a shot.
If you are lost in spirits: Think of the worst thing that has ever happened to you. Is why you are moping worse than that? If so, then find Matt and he will comfort you. Go to someone just for something to hold on to while you cry. DO NOT spend time alone. This is the WORSE course of action. If it’s not worse than the worst thing that has ever happened, then think about that fact and listen to some uplifting music, find Matt, and let him hold you.
If you are lost in love: I swear I will kick your ass if you have messed up what we have with Matt. He is the BEST thing that has ever happened to a little nobody like us, and if things are messed up then fix them. NOW. Nobody else has ever gotten us, and just completely understood us, the way he has and does. Nobody else makes you feel as safe, or as loved, or as whole as he does. I might get annoyed right now with things like how his week old beard rasps against my skin when he kisses my face, or how he farts in the shower, but I’m telling you right now…you idiot…I wouldn’t trade them for any smooth face out there. Nobody else can tame our crazy ass, and not only tame it but cherish it. If you can not say that he is yours, and you are his, then stop reading this letter and get to work on that immediately.
If you are lost in confidence: Remember everything that you and I have been through together. I am still here, and if you are reading this then so are you. That means you have survived everything that has been thrown your way. From where I’m sitting that’s a pretty big deal. Don’t doubt us for one minute. We have what it takes and deserve nothing but the best. Don’t settle for anything less.
Well future me…I think I have effectively rambled myself out. I have about two hours left until I am home in Matt’s arms, and I have some work I need to finish before I leave here today. In this moment I am happy, content, loved, full, semi-warm, and almost done with the day. There isn’t much I could ask for. However, if you finally are a mother by the time you are reading this again, give my baby a kiss for me and tell her/him I can’t wait to meet them.
It certainly has been a while since I’ve dedicated any real time to this wonderful blog. I’ve thought wistfully of composing something; anything, but I had to break up with SayAnything for a while. I’ve been up to my eyeballs with stress and work that seems to endlessly grow and threaten to bury me underneath it’s mass. Like any ex-boyfriend does, if you don’t have someone or something to fill that fresh void, SayAnthing has haunted me all along. Am I mercifully relieved of the paperwork, responsibility, or stress?
I’m buried much farther beneath it than I would have ever thought possible. It’s been dangerous waters, and I’m treading as carefully as possible; mindful of the hungry sharks circling my kicking feet, waiting for me to falter.
Shit. I am so tired.
As I listen to Journey’s “Faithfully”, I just have the overwhelming feeling of curling into a ball underneath warm covers and forgetting everything but sleep for the longest time. No amount of coffee can come close the the bone-deep exhaustion I’ve nursed like a child for the past four months. My new friend slash boss, Zooey [after Zooey Deschanel], has helped alleviate the pressure and shown me what a mentor truly is. Zooey is human, bright, bubbly, genuine, selfless, motherly, and everything I needed after my war with Ruby finally ended. Picture a wounded soldier, ravaged after two years of war, most of the time being beaten to a pulp; that is the image my soul was left two months ago.
I know that my journey to rehabilitation has only just began, but I feel like I have made tremendous steps to being happy here again. There still is a lot of healing that needs to be done between me and Atticus, but I know that takes time.
I have that as a tattoo. It is a portion of one of the greatest poems I have ever read. I define greatness as something or someone who makes a deep, resounding, crater-like impact on me. ‘Invictus’ by William Ernest Henley did just that.
Out of the night that covers me,Black as the pit from pole to pole,I thank whatever gods may beFor my unconquerable soul.In the fell clutch of circumstanceI have not winced nor cried aloud.Under the bludgeonings of chanceMy head is bloody, but unbowed.Beyond this place of wrath and tearsLooms but the Horror of the shade,And yet the menace of the yearsFinds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,How charged with punishments the scroll,I am the master of my fate,I am the captain of my soul.
Whenever I feel depressed, and drowning in my own pity I think of the reason why I got that tattoo and what it really means to me. Then I simply pick myself back up, brush my sorry self off, and keep charging. I remember what Atticus or Meryl would say to me when I was a child and I would fall down: “Pick yourself up and brush yourself off,” or “Rub some dirt on it.” Okay, that last one was more my older brother, Josh, but still…you get the point.
I’ve learned at my early age that you have to have fiery resolve to make it in this world. I find mine somehow every day through a rousing song, a gripping book, over a thoughtful and long cigarette, in the eyes of Matt, in an inspiring movie, in a passing breeze, in an emotional memory, in the smile of a stranger, in a project well done, holding my niece or nephew, in a new task that I decide is added to my bucket list, or surrounded by my family.
Today I will be going to have a drink with Zooey and Matt after work. This week has been especially hard, for one reason or another, here at the office. Every day Zooey and I have chanted, as our mantra, “Drinks on Friday!” The very fact that we still are able to laugh among every thing we both have going on, both professionally and not, is proof that we are both women of fiery resolve. We are made of stern stuff. I knew, in a way, that about myself for a while but after Ruby, I lost the confidence that I was strong. Zooey, God bless her, has taken on the task of rebuilding me.
God works that way with me, I just realize as I sit here typing this entry. He gives me the gift of being tested, just to let me overcome it. He always, always sends me an angel to help me back up whenever I need one the most. It’s a common saying that God doesn’t give you any more than you can handle. Well I believe this is true. I’m still here, breathing, typing, thinking, smiling. Therefore, I have handled every tough, heart wrenching, you-name-it burden that has been thrown my way. I’ve been so lost and off my path, wracked with heartache that I thought I would literally die of it. The pain was very real for me. I could feel being stabbed with a knife made of loneliness or despair, and wonder how I could ever recover.
Then, miraculously, I would find the white-hot fire within myself and I would pick my sorry self up, brush myself off, and keep charging.
Keep charging guys.
What’s the household task you most dislike doing? Why do you think that is — is it the task itself, or something more?
You can not imagine the amount of times that after watching Beauty and the Beast and Sword in the Stone, I have fantasized about using magic to do my chores.
No me gusta hacer los quehaceres. There’s a little Spanish I still remember from high school for you bilinguals. For those who can’t speak anything but English, that means: I do not like doing the chores.
I never have. It doesn’t soothe me or put me at ease. Quite the contrary…it makes me pissy. I get mad that I waited so long to do them and now dishes and clothes are piling up. Then I get mad because I can’t wait any longer and I have to do them now. Then I get mad because it is taking so long to finish. Then I get mad because I wasted so much time completing them.
Top Ten Household Chores I Hate The Most:
1. Cleaning up dog poop.
2. Taking out the trash.
4. Cleaning the toilet.
7. Cleaning out the refrigerator.
10. Making the bed. [I literally never ever…ever do this. There is absolutely no point.]
Ten things way better than cleaning I could be doing instead:
5. Making love.
9. Playing Tetris.
I have always had a resentment for chores. I love the smell, look, and feel of cleanliness. The destination is wonderful, but in this case the journey just sucks. Whenever I was young and it was my turn to help in the kitchen I would excuse myself under the guise of needing to pee, and would sit on the toilet for as long as possible.
I don’t think there is an underlying reason to disliking chores. I’m just uninterested in menial tasks. I’m probably borderline lazy in a way, but Matt accepts that about me and so… oh well. “I’ll think of it tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day.”
What’s the best way to start off a Monday morning?
A fellow blogger nominating me for an award. Yes, please!!
A huge thanks to the fantastic Sanjeev, of My Kaleidoscope, for presenting me with this. Go check him out…seriously.
Since I am training the new Office Manager (yes I am training someone who will be my boss…ha…ha…) I will keep this short and sweet. Once again, a huge thanks for the nomination. It will never fail to make me feel special.
The rules for this award:
Display the Award Certificate on your blog.
Write a post and link back to the blogger who nominated you.
Nominate 15 other bloggers.
Inform them of their nomination via comment in their blog.
Post 7 interesting things about yourself.
7 Things You Probably Don’t Care About and Never Needed To Know But Whatever:
1) I crack my knuckles.
2) I love to get flowers for no reason. Sunflowers, Pink Tulips, and Dahlia’s are my favorites.
3) I just moved into a new place [no I won’t tell you where…weirdo] and have decorated it for Christmas already with Matt. Christmas tree…check. Personalized stockings….check. Weird holiday themed magnets…super check.
4) I used to have blonde hair. I dyed it once, all the way and all at once, ruined it, and will never go back.
5) I love the clicking sound of a keyboard.
6) I was a teacher’s pet. They let me sleep in class…grade other kids tests…and do their busy work while the class was working….because I’m that good. Not because I’m a goodie-two-shoes…okay?
7) I love the smell of pine.
8) I don’t like to follow authority or rules. I’m definitely a leader, not follower.
I would like to nominate the following bloggers for this award:
Hutch over at Catchingascentofsalt. Way better than me.
You guys are the cream of the crop. I enjoy reading your posts!
My goals for 2014:
1. Continue to heal, and grow in love with Matt.
2. Have a great relationship with the new Office Manager and Atticus.
3. If I say lose weight is that cliche?
4. Hutch says to stop smoking….we’ll see….
5. Come up with a better signature. You’d be surprised how much this irks me.
6. Find more rock bands to be in love with. In the same token-go to more concerts.
7. Have a better with a relationship with all of my siblings.
8. Get closer with Meryl. Possibly even go see her and my grandparents.
9. Continue to kick ass at my job.
10. Break the daily routine more often and do the things Matt and I want to do, but haven’t had the money to do.
I have an 80% chance of completing these. 2014 has some big shoes to fill. First of all how is ’14 going to top, “It’s the End of the World!!” It can’t…fact. Unless it actually ends up being the end of the world; fingers crossed it’s not.
I hope every one has a wonderful and safe Thanksgiving. Remember to be thankful for what you have, not stuck dwelling on what you want. I say that, but everyone will be like, “Oh I’m so thankful for this and that….” but then will run out and push people out of the way for Black Friday Sales. I’ve never been to Black Friday; I hate stingy, selfish, and hypocritical people too much. Apparently, it is a tradition for the women in Matt’s family.
I love his family to pieces, but I’m really not looking forward to all the other hoards of people. I’ll be giving the stank face to 99 percent of the population and I don’t even care. That should probably be a goal for 2014: not giving people the stank face.
No need to start that just yet; it can wait ’til next year.
Such a fitting thing to talk about near Thanksgiving; food.
When I think of mouth watering dishes, I think of home cooked meals.
My mother’s Chili, Fried Chicken, Lasagna, Spaghetti, and my personal favorite: Napa Valley Chicken.
Matt’s biscuits and gravy, french toast, and bacon first thing in the morning.
Atticus’s ribs, steaks, venison, and yes… even squirrel.
Kate’s and Hutch’s dinners. Hutch, my brother four years my junior, is cooking a huge Thanksgiving feast this year. It’s his first ever. This will be the first year I’ll be away from my family for a holiday, and it just so happens this looks like it’s going to be the best year. It’s going to be tough.
I can cook pretty well, I think. I won’t lie and say I’m the best in the family. I’ve given up the past few years. After working all day, I just can’t even muscle up the motivation to boil water. Not my proudest moments, but Matt and I get along just fine.
My family’s way of luring you over for dinner and trapping you for hours is with food. Kate is infamous for this. She’ll say, “You guys want to come over for dinner?” If we hesitate she sends out the hook, “I was going to cook (use your imagination) for dinner.” A couple of days later we are sitting around her kitchen counter eating and talking/gossiping.
If I had to choose out of everyone’s specialties what the most mouth-watering would be:
1. Meryl’s Napa Valley Chicken. This is the best damn use of chicken I’ve ever had the pleasure of tasting.
2. Atticus’s grilled Ribs. No one has cooked ribs as well as he used to with Stubbs sauce marinating them for hours, and cooking them until the meat fell off the bone. Chops licking good.
3. Matt’s Biscuits and Gravy or his Bar-B-Q Chicken. My man can cook ya’ll!
4. Kate’s Lasagna. The cheese…oh, the cheese.
5. Hutch’s compilation of Meryl’s Chili. He cooks it perfectly and I devour it.
I don’t know about ya’ll, but all of this talking about food is making me hungry!
[Small note for my fellow East Coaster’s: Stay safe out there today and tomorrow, guys. The weather is looking pretty nasty out there. I also saw on the news today, if you are traveling on I-40 for Thansgiving, they are going to have state troopers posted everyone 20 miles from the East Coast to Cali. Drive the speed limit and save yourself a ticket for the holidays!]