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The Dairy Queen

16 Jun

My favorite memory from my local DQ back in the day? When my high school boyfriend asked me to wear his class ring. We were sitting in a booth by the window and it was all awkward and adorable.

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scream “BOOSTER” y’all

19 Jul

Until last night I hadn’t been to a Vacation Bible School in years. Kiddo has been enjoying her Sunday School class so much that I figured she might also like VBS (as us good Christians refer to it) and so we managed to time it just right to go last night on the way home from a particularly very-bad-most-horrible-quite-long commute.

It was a madhouse of kids and nametags and crafts, but in a good way. I sat with her in her age group appropriate pew o’ kiddos and lo and behold if they didn’t sing the same songs that WE used to sing at VBS. This Little Christian Light of Mine and the one about the king’s 10,000 men/when you’re up you’re up song that hurts my 35 year old knees nowadays. I sent kiddo off to class and hoped she’d be good and learn something. Afterwards she came searching for me among the cookies and kool-aid fun outside (a standard VBS procedure, even still), proudly showing me her crafty bible verse thing she’d made and singing the Booster song! I had forgotten that song even existed and hearing her sing it so boisteriously was a bit surreal.

To be honest, the whole experience was surreal. Not only because the songs were the same, but also that whole VBS vibe was the same. I can’t properly explain the “VBS vibe” but it definitely exists. Hyper kids, the smell of construction paper and glue sticks, peppy songs about God, whales and Wandering Jews, the whole deal. If you’ve ever been to one you get what I’m so poorly trying to express.

However, the most bizarre thing was the fact that across the aisle from me sat a childhood friend who I went to church with growing up, a zillion VBS’s included. He attends this church with his own family and children and I’ll be a Baptist casserole at a potluck if we didn’t hang out at the cookie and kool-aid table and remember doing the exact same thing back in the day as kids. Except now we are taking our own kids to VBS and are grayer, older, much wiser and didn’t challenge each other to a footrace in the parking lot (I always won these by the way). Serious FlashBack Town though. It kind of blew my mind.

I’m planning to take kiddo back tonight. And maybe we’ll sing the Booster song together on the way home.

from the guest room

11 Jul

I love our guest room for some reason. Maybe because its rarely used and stays clean. Or because its cozy and quiet. The dog doesn’t come in here, the kiddo doesn’t either, nor The Accountant. Its an untouched space of sorts. That’s where I am now. Sometimes I’ll take my laptop in here and sit in bed and do my internet thang, or even read a real live honest to goodness book.

I get inklings of the same vibe I used to get when I’d go into my grandmother’s guest bedroom. Or maybe it was her regular bedroom, I’m not really sure. She and my grandfather slept in separate rooms (can’t blame her ’cause goodness that man could snore!) and when my brother and I would go stay with them we would get the back bedroom with the two twin beds in it and grandma would take the other spare room across from grandpa’s. I rarely ventured into that room but when I did go exploring I’d walk gingerly across the always freshly vacuumed carpet and dare not touch the immaculately made up bed. It seemed so…untouchable or something. Like a private space I didn’t want to disturb but that I loved to just stand quietly in.

And I really didn’t mean for this to turn into a post about a room but there ya go. I think I was going to write something about my day, feeling invisible, my abbreviated run that left me drenched tonight, the latest kiddo trick, how the new blog theme here is the result of deeply rooted boredom, etc. My brain takes me to unexpected places sometimes. I kind of like that.

what the song says

30 Nov

I’ve had “Edge of Desire” from JM’s new album, Battle Studies, on repeat in my car for the past week. Sometimes I get hooked on a song and won’t let it go. This one in particular makes me all melancholy and wistful weird. It’s tortured, longing, desperate. It speaks to me for various personal reasons I won’t go into. It reminds me of something from my past that I can’t forget and some recent poetry I’ve written. I just like it. A lot.

Edge of Desire
John Mayer

Young and full of running. Tell me where is that taking me? Just a great figure eight, or a tiny infinity? Love is really nothing but a dream that keeps waking me. For all of my trying we still end up dying. How can it be? Don’t say a word, just come over and lie here with me. ‘Cause I’m just about to set fire to everything I see. I want you so bad I’ll go back on the things I believe. There I just said it, I’m scared you’ll forget about me. So young and full of running, all the way to the edge of desire. Steady my breathing, silently screaming, I have to have you now. Wired and I’m tired. Think I’ll sleep in my clothes on the floor. Maybe this mattress will spin on its axis and find me on yours. Don’t say a word just come over and lie here with me. ‘Cause I’m just about to set fire to everything I see. I want you so bad I’ll go back on the things I believe. There I just said it, I’m scared you’ll forget about me.

dear diary

20 Aug

This is my journal. My real journal. The kind with actual paper that you write on with a pen or pencil. The kind you hold in your hands, then slowly crack the binding and smile slightly as you blemish the first page with your favorite ink pen. That kind of journal. The romantic old fashioned REAL kind.

journal

I have a zillion of these books, most of them only half-filled with snippets of me. After a while, as with most things, I bore with them and a pretty new book catches my eye so I buy it and begin filling it with random doodles, heartwrenching confessions, cheesy poetry; stuff I wouldn’t dare post here. Then they go on a shelf somewhere, get stuffed into a box or under the bed and the cycle repeats with a fresh book. I like the new start a clean journal gives me. I guess its symbolic in a way that seems ridiculously obvious and trite. But still true for me.

Sometimes I read through the old ones and laugh or sometimes cringe. I’ve been known to rip out pages and burn them to keep anyone, myself included, from ever reading them again. But I always remember what I wrote.  The real me isn’t on this blog or Facebook or Twitter or anywhere really, except in my journals.

…he breaks my heart a little more every time…sam rolled over today…even though i’m a grown married woman, sometimes i feel like a high school girl…my grandfather died today, i’ve been crying for hours…the power went out at work and ironically, it was the highlight of my day…i’m pregnant, holy shit…i’m in paris and in love…they think dad had a stroke…i miscarried our baby today…mom graduated from college last weekend…i am running away…tonight we kissed in the rain…

Class of ’94, redux

21 Apr

I guess this will be the post where I rehash anything publicly sharable from my weekend. And then wonder why I feel the need to do so on the internet. But anyway….

I gathered up the 20-30 bags of stuff needed to travel with a child and headed to the fam’s on Saturday. (By the way, why does it now take me 3 hours to get ready to go somewhere? This is why parents of young children stay home people, it is too much dang trouble to get out!) The plan was to visit a while with mom, dad and bro, and then head a few miles down the road for my high school shin-dig. The family visit was way too short but was great as always. Sam entertained and then fell asleep in the recliner with her Papa.

The impromptu class reunion was super fab. There were a couple of people that I really wanted to see who didn’t show up but the turn out overall was great and everyone had a wonderful time methinks. I will say that just as I suspected it might be, that it was a little bizarre. Only because there were more kids than adults and we were all a little older (ok, ok, so 15 years is a bit more than “a little older”) and a little wiser I think.  I was sitting at a table with my bff and she says “so who do you think has changed the most?”. I looked around the room and couldn’t really answer, I thought we were all pretty much the same, except for the extra 15 years and the offspring part. I asked her who she thought had changed the most and she said without hesitation, “you”. Ha! That cracked me up. I think it’s probably true. But that’s another post for another time. Sam was great and I handed her off to several people so I could go take a pic here, talk to someone there, etc. and she never whimpered. I should probably be a little worried that she’s perfectly happy to hang out with strangers but her easygoing ‘tude makes things much easier for mom. So sorry if you were stuck holding my kid against your will by the way. But thanks! My friends are all great babysitters! 

Sunday…Our 5K was derailed by illness and craptastic weather so not much to report on there. But we are set to make another attempt in a few weeks. I can’t wait to get out there tonight because its been over a week since I’ve been able to meander the streets of my ‘hood and try to keep up with Cooper. He is going to be uncontrollable tonight I’m sure so that person you see being dragged down the street by a 90 lb chocolate lab and screaming for him to stop…that will be me.

The End.

family stuff

24 Oct

My grandmother is doing well according to the doctors and was discharged from the hospital yesterday and transferred to a rehab facility.  She’ll be there for a few weeks and I guess we’ll go from there. 

It’s hard to still think of yourself as a kid and to watch the adults in your life age and deal with the ailments that go along with that.  The woman that was propped up in the hospital recliner is the same one that made my brother and me a bowl of Cheerios and a glass of chocolate milk in the mornings when we’d spend weekends at our grandparents house.  She used to be a master of the holiday feast.  She made turkey, dressing and all the fixings, plus a coconut cake for every holiday gathering that would make Paula Deen cry with jealousy.  She was an impeccable housekeeper and there was nary a speck of dust to be found in her home.  My brother and I would sock-skate through the utility room on the shiny green linoleum and our white socks would still be white after our roller derby marathons.  Over the years macular degeneration has taken much of her eyesight and there are now some dust bunnies lying around her apartment, but it’s still probably cleaner than my house.

It was so great to see her this weekend but also difficult.  She’s never been incapacitated like this and it is just hard to see her so physically helpless.  I’m sure it’s tough for her as well to not be able to do for herself like before.  But recovery looks positive and she is surrounded by people who love her.  The family took turns staying at the hospital with her around the clock so she’s never been alone.  (which is another post altogether as my grandma is, shall we say, “particular” about many things)

What is it about unfortunate events that bring people closer together?  My extended family is not what you’d consider close.  We’ve never been the type of family to just drop in on each other or call to chat that much with the exception of the grandparents.  We used to get together for the major holidays at my grandparents’ house but after grandpa died and grandma “moved to town” those gatherings sort of tapered off.  I don’t know why really, I guess we’re just ornery that way. 

However, come a wedding (yes, some of these could be considered “unfortunate events”), funeral, or hospital stay and we manage to congregate at the scene.  Grandma’s hospital room was full of relatives I hadn’t seen in ages.  I saw an uncle and cousins I haven’t seen in over eight years and met a couple of my cousins’ children for the first time, as well as my uncle’s new wife. 

Grandma saw this event as bringing the family closer together and it has done that in various ways, for the time being.   And that’s good.  It was kind of weird actually.  But in a nice, although bittersweet way. 

So send up a prayer for my gramma if that’s your thing and I’ll be heading back to Weakley this weekend.  Wonder if I’ll meet a long lost auntie or some such?

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