A Nice Day for a Math Wedding

Do y’all remember weddings in grade school?
I almost married Adam Sears in the coat cubby, but even then I got scared and couldn’t go through with it. We stayed friends for years though, talked on the telephone until 842 and 784 hadda dial an area code to get to one another, and neither of our parents wanted to pay for long distance while we talked nonsense and watched Sha Na Na.

Anyway, Moo told us the cutest lil wedding story:

“I went to a gay wedding today.”
“Didja? Did they serve gay cake after?”
“It’s just a wedding, don’t say gay wedding.”
“All weddings are gay.”
“What?”
“Gay as in happy!”
“Adam and Steve got married today. Steve wore his hoodie as a veil. We hadda use the algebra book for a bible.”
“Why did you need a bible at the wedding?”
“Have you confused weddings with court?”
“Did they have to put their left hands on the algebra book and raise their right hands to swear to love one another for as long as they both shall live?”
“No, they swore to Archimedes.”
“Hahaha! Cool.”
“Were you the officiant?”
“No, I was Adam’s best man.”
“Haha!”
“Quinn was the flower girl. She passed out math worksheets.”
“Haha!”
“Claire walked Steve down the aisle and she was the maid of honor and the priest. Joel was the usher. He hadda get everyone out the door when the bell rang. At the end, Adam shouted out, “I cheated on you with Josh! I demand a divorce!”

Forget Runaway Brides — Grooms these days!

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Happy Friday Everyone!

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#ThursdayDoors — The American Legion

I took some of these at night, in passing.

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Then another day, I walked by in the daylight…

There are many sets, I think six, but I wouldn’t swear to it.

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Definitely better in the daylight, and the front set is definitely prettiest.

#ThursdayDoors is part of an inspired post series run by Norm Frampton. To see other doors of interest, or to share your own, click the link.

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One-Liner Wednesday — His and Hers

“Set the jigsaw up for me, will ya? I’m fixina hack some shit up.”
“NO.”
“No? Why not?”
“Cause ‘Hack some shit up.'”
“Well, I’ll figure it out. Can’t be any harder than the food processor.”

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One-Liner Wednesday is brought to you by LindaGHill

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Countdown to Tacos

The Motterns celebrated their working furnace by sleeping hot and then complaining about it in the morning.

We all want a break, and it’s only stupid Tuesday. Tuesday is so stupid.

I’ve never liked Tuesdays.

I’m makin tacos tonight. We need tacos. Tacos have always been there for me. Taco Tuesday to the rescue.

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I am full of unexplored feelings and undeveloped thoughts. I shall temporary numb myself with a taco. And lello rice. And refried beans.

It’s only about eight hours til taco time. That’s how I’m going to look at this Tuesday — as a countdown to tacos.

Do you need a coping mechanism to get through this Tuesday, too?

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Share Your World #46

Are you a traveler or a homebody?
I am both. I love to travel, but I do require downtime. I can get downtime while I travel, too. I love to explore and experience new places. My current lifestyle involves accommodating three different school calendars, two activity schedules, plus two work schedules, as well as pets, so I don’t travel much.

 

What kind of TV commercial would you like to make? Describe it.
I’d be really good at making a satire commercial like something one would see on SNL. It’d be snarky and funny, and probably offensive.

 

Describe yourself in a word that starts with the first letter of your name.
Jealous of people whose names don’t start with J.

 

List some fun things for a rainy day.
In light rain, I enjoy gardening, walking, and splashing.
In heavy rain, reading, crossword puzzles, and naps are nice.

 

Bonus question:  What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?
I’m grateful the weather is still fall-like. It’s still pretty outside and it smells fabulous.

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Last week was too busy. This weekend was a good weekend to be invited to chili dinner, to sleep late under many quilts, to cuddle up and watch tv, to order take-out, and to bake an apple pie. 
The furnace guy comes today, so I am grateful for the space heater, hot coffee, this comfy throw, and many warm furry creatures to snuggle.

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I am grateful Cletus is a mouser. Cletus is a total asshole cat, but he is also a very good boy.

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The squirrels are back in full begging force. They enjoy apple cores and peels. We think this one is pregnant, and we have a couple of baby squirrels, too.

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This week coming up, I’m hoping for steady heat in the house, and that it’s less busy than last week. I know our family is looking more forward to next week than this one, but we’ve all got some now to do.

Cee’s Share Your World is a weekly feature and all are welcome to join in and play along.

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What’s going on in your world?

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SoCS — Mem, She Wrote

Mem, bleh.

Men, sure.

But mem?

Memorabilia. Not big on it. I like postcards.

Memoir. When I’m the last one alive, maybe.

Memories. Okay, but only the good ones.

Oh, hey, I have a really good memory. I know it’s hard to believe if you’ve recently read of my search for the yellow house, or how my time in Georgia is a blur, or how I forgot the tv was on the curb, but it’s true: I have a really good memory which serves myself and others around me well.

The Mister says I am his memory.
But then, he knew the television incident happened in the summer of 2008, which was R&R.

Some of it’s just paying attention, some of it’s obsessing, and some of it is because I see things as words. When people talk, I see their words in my head like they’re rolling off a typewriter, which is why I love to read subtitles in films and why I get pissed off about bad translations, and why, no matter how much you want me to, I will never forget what you said. Brain cut, copies, and pastes moments to appropriate headers.

My brain is highly effective at storing written words. I like that about me. I can caption events to remember them better.

It doesn’t prevent me from forgetting I left the kettle on or remembering where I put a particular piece of paper, and it certainly doesn’t keep me from asking myself if I have my keys 25 times a day, but it’s still a nifty gift.

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Stream of Consciousness Saturday, SoCS ‘mem’ is brought you to by LindaGHill

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Check Your Blindspot

Y’all, I am diggin deep to bring you a smile on this Friday. Laughs are hard to come by this week, yeah? No doubt you appreciate my dedication.

Okay, well, Marian and Laura both shared stories of their accidents and I responded to them both, “If you’re gonna have an accident, that’s a good one to have.” I know that, cause I’ve had a good accident.

I’ve had an accident that wasn’t so good, because people are assholes who make blind left turns and crash their big metal truck all into Joey’s lil white Neon, causing her banana split to paint the interior of her car and ruining her plans to go through fabric with not-then MIL.
That’s what life is like. You get off work, stop at the DQ for sweets, head to Mamaw’s and then BOOM! BIG TRUCK! No ice cream or fabric for you! No invitation to stay for supper. Instead, you gotta go home and call your insurance agent and a body shop and do stupid, responsible, adulty things like find out what a deductible is and cry into your Kraft dinner.
Not so good.

 

Imma tell you about this accident cause it’s funny, and because it was my fault.

I ran over our television.

I know.

Let that sink in.

I ran over our television.

The Mister wasn’t home, but he’d been home. Was it R&R or stateside time? I don’t know when. I have no sense of time in Georgia. My husband was gone more than he was home, it was hot as blazes, and I lived in a shoe. It’s blurry. There isn’t a photo of it so I’ll never be able to tell you when it was.

We had purchased a new television. A flat screen. Consequently, The Mister carried the behemoth box of a tv to the curb. Hercules! Hercules! Hercules!

I had asked him to put it out the previous week, on trash day, but he is a procrastinator, so he put it out the last day he was home. Hot shoe blur.

I backed out of our garage, and out of our drive, and BOOM! CRRRUNCH! Initially, I had no idea what I’d hit, cause minivan. Oh. Tv.

“Mama!”
“It’s okay, Mama hit the tv.”
“Why?”
“I forgot it was there.”
“Why?”
“It was an accident. That’s why it’s good you have carseats.”
“Stuck safe!”
“Stuck safe!”

I pulled back in a bit, adjusted my angle and pulled back out.

People came out of their homes to see what happened. My friend CaliGirl asked if we were okay. She seemed to think running over a television was a bad thing or somethin. I told her I was fine. I said, “If I had to have an accident, that’s a good one to have.”

When I got to where I was going (probably the commissary, cause shoe) I looked at it, and I thought, well that’s not too bad.
It’s not as though our minivan is a … well, she’s a minivan. She’s essentially a traveling shoe.

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she has many dents, but i made the biggest one   *not pictured

At some point, I had to tell The Mister that I’d run over our television. I knew it would lead to endless, torturous comments about women drivers and a substantial amount of teasing, but I had to tell him.

So I did.
And you know what he said?
“I fuckin knew you were gonna hit it!”

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“If you knew I was gonna hit it, then why did you put it in my blindspot?!? Why didn’t you put it out there when YOU were still driving?!?”
“I even thought I should move it away from the driveway s’more, so you’d see it.”
“Then why didn’t you?!?”
“Ahahahaha! I fuckin knew you were gonna hit it!”

Happy Friday Everyone! Check your blindspot!

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#ThursdayDoors — Return to the Stucco Cottage

Back in March, I showed you this yellow stucco house.

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I mentioned I’m not a big fan of stucco in Indiana, but this house is yellow and cottage-y and it has a stunning garden in season, and check out that letter box! I said I’d go back to photograph the garden AND I DID.

I was certain it was behind Twenty Tap, so I asked The Mister to drive around there in July. It wasn’t there. Then I was sure it was behind Twenty Tap and drove around there in August. It wasn’t there. Then I was sure it was behind Twenty Tap, so I drove over there in September. It wasn’t there. Then I was sure it was behind Twenty Tap, so I asked The Mister to drive over there in October. It wasn’t there. I hadda break down and tell The Mister about the yellow house and how I was sure it was behind Twenty Tap and how it was like the yellow house had disappeared or I had lost my mind. You know why it wasn’t there? Cause Twenty Tap is farther south than Joeys think.

Suddenly I remembered that time I wasn’t lookin for the yellow house, I was just pickin up food. On a hot and wet August day, I parked on College Avenue and walked all the way to the corner and got upset because Twenty Tap wasn’t on that corner.

Snapped this door along the way:
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I even remember thinking, hm, funny I don’t remember this door…

I had to walk all the way back to my car and drive farther south and walk all the way to another corner. So far when hungry.
Twenty Tap! Benson turned us on to this place and it is now one of our favorite places to eat.
We went again this last weekend, and behold the noms:

 

Anyway, Twenty Tap is at 54th and College so if you’re lookin for doors, look elsewhere, cause I love that area and I don’t have all those doors. *calls dibs*

Here’s the stucco cottage, in all some of its leftover garden splendor:

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Yes, Yes, I’m sure it was prettier last summer, but apparently I was too hot and disoriented to make it. Maybe next year!

#ThursdayDoors is part of an inspired post series run by Norm Frampton. To see other doors of interest, or to share your own, click the link.

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1036 Words in Some Semblance of Order

I debated doing a One-Liner today, cause you know, I almost always do One-Liner Wednesday.

Is “Well, fuuuuck,” a worthy One-Liner? Nah?

I don’t have organized thoughts right now. I may or may not make sense, but then, you’re accustomed to that, hm? I’ve been feeling poorly since I woke up Monday. Started out with the cold achies, then it turned to achy with fever and weird dry gasping cough. As you can imagine, this has been AWESOME for my anxiety disorder. More herbal tea, please.
In terms of productivity, I voted, I chopped onions for soup, I took the girls to orchestra rehearsal. Beyond that, I’ve been down, in and out of sleep and sick. The rest of my family is picking up my slack. Even Bubba’s pickin up Moo from afters.

I want orange juice and honey and Moo is almost out of milk (!!!) I should have asked The Mister for those things yesterday, but I forgot. But now I’m thirsty again, so I remember. I should text him, but my phone is way over there. He may read this at lunch and pick some up. I have plenty of room in the fridge if any of you are motivated. You’ll have to ring the bell and leave it on the porch, because well, if you don’t know sick me…

Here’s a Control V of my FB status yesterday. I don’t know how to open Paint in this laptop so screen capture didn’t help. I could ask Ms. Laptop, but she’d probably only piss me off. She doesn’t know me. She’s always telling me to ask her to call Violet and I don’t even know Violet. She reminds me she can find music I don’t listen to or sports scores I don’t care about. So yeah, Control V.

i’m sick. like, fever broke at 4 and came back sometime around 9.
anyway, i’ve hydrated and slept. i managed to get to the kitchen, open a bottle of gatorade, AND peel an orange all by myself. obviously that wore me out, so i went back to sleep.
BING-BONG
BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK
some lady with at&t and directv bag.
i open the door.
i do not open the storm door.
she ask me how i am.
*standing there with light-socket, sweat-soaked, poodle hair and stained long underwear* i dunno what my face looks like, but i can tell you i didn’t wash my face last night because delirium does not care about eyeliner.
i say “sick.” she dunno me, i could look like this every day for all she know.
she say she sorry i’m sick and then start her sales pitch. gonna sell me service i have for three times the price. oh boy.
IS IT ME OR SHOULD SHE LOOK FOR THE DIRECTV SATELLITE BEFORE SHE RINGS THE BELL?!?
i cut her off, “no thank you. i have recently renegotiated my directv pricing and i don’t want at&t. at&t suuuucks. people who have at&t come to my house to download.”
she looks at me like I’M rude. like she invent the at&t. like i’m standin on her front porch, botherin her sick ass. i think about opening the storm door and coughing on her. maybe licking her face.
i wave goodbye to her, shut the door.

shoulda invited her in, feigned interest, asked her to heat up some soup for me, THEN coughed on her. i see that now.

 

So yeah, just drop the goods and run.

Another possible One-Liner:

Moo came to me, “How is my caterpillar?”
“Hm?”
“You’re like a caterpillar in its cocoon!”
“Heh.”
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“Maybe you’ll become a beautiful butterfly!”

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Yes, I’m sure I will emerge as a beautiful butterfly. The resemblance is uncanny, Moo.

 

This morning was hard, because sick and cold and Diva Furnace and you know, the impending apocalypse or whatever. I want the results to be fever dream, but the people have spoken. The sheer number of them rings a bell in my sternum, like oh the mindset of our country is much worse than i had expected…so many angry, fearful people…

I am a blue girl in a red state. I am no stranger to feeling odd. My county went blue, and I’ll count that as a victory.

People are talking about who to blame, or what could have been done differently. I see all those points. Still I’m just not into shoulda, coulda, woulda. This happened. This is reality.
The Mister is not terrified or surprised, which is somewhat comforting, and somewhat concerning, cause he is regularly brave and you can only trust the brave so much, always doing crazy brave things. He works in finance, so his day should be busy, interesting. Later he will go to his history classes where I’m sure his professors will be wearing black armbands.

Speculation abounds, and I’m not into that, either. I reckon not enough of America is familiar with the behavior of narcissists. Or maybe they are. Maybe they love a good nuclear winter. I dunno.

I’ve got more than my own share of worries and it does no good to dwell on the possible atrocities beyond the current situation. I mean, I can’t think about stuff that’s months away when I need orange juice right now.

To my fellow head shakers, to those who are heartbroken, devastated, terrified, ashamed, shocked — Let me remind you, we still outnumber them. More people voted against this outcome than for it. This country ain’t gettin white prouder or straighter or more backwoods religious and women still outnumber men.

Remember that progress, even when slow, is inevitable.
I’ve seen a lot of people kicking and screaming the last eight years and I believe this is their last ditch effort to hang on to their concept of America.

We must continue to move forward. We must continue to fight against inequality and fight for inclusion.

The world is still a beautiful place and people (most people) are still really good at heart.

For me, the hardest part of this was breaking the news to my girls this morning. Sassy asked me what happened. I can’t explain it. “Be kind. Love people harder. I love you.”

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How the Hell Did that Happen?

Y’all, it is time I make a confession.
I hope you’re sittin down.

I’ve told you, I’m not a horror fan.
I’ve told you, I’m a sissypants about gore.
I’ve told you, I like it here under my rock.
I JUST had a lil chat with Marian about the nice dry zombies of her youth.
Which is why…I cannot explain…How I have become a fan of The Walking Dead.

I didn’t turn it on. I came out one Saturday with my coffee and my lappy and Sassy was watchin it. “Zombies, Sass? Really?”
“Mama, it’s so good.”
“Mmhm.”

I typed and read and typed and read and LOL Cats and next thing you know, I was riveted. “What happened?”
“Why’s he doin that?”
“OH GROSS!”
“Why he’s got a fever?”
“OMG KILL IT! KILL IT!”

A few episodes in, and I was hooked.
I ran in and shouted at The Mister, “This show is AWFUL! You’ll love it!”
He said, “Mmm,” in his Unimpressed-Mamaw tone.
Then I hurried back so as not to miss anything.

Hours later, The Mister came into the living room and sat down with his coffee and his laptop and I was all, “OMG THIS SHOW IS HORRIFYING! SCARIEST SHIT I’VE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE!”
He got sucked in, too.
Next thing we knew, it was 3am and nobody wanted to take the damned dog out because dark and scary.
Then the boy one came over last weekend, and I said to him, “We’re going to watch our show now. I’m sorry, but you’ll get sucked in, too.”
He shrugged his Millennials-Are-Never-Impressed-Shrug.
And the next thing we knew, it was 2am and he said, “Oh man, I’m gonna regret this, but yeah, let’s watch another episode.”

The suspense is wretched. I mean, remember when you were a kid and the scary stuff was mostly suspense? They do that really well.
But with gore. Oh the gore. So much eww.
So I look at my drapes a lot, and hide my face in the blanket, and sometimes, from within the blanket, I yell at the people, “I told you not to go in there! I can tell by the squishing that you’re good as dead now!”

This is when I realized, I had, in fact, become my mother.

I had suspected the metamorphosis was in its beginning stages already. There had been many signs. Most importantly, that day I wrapped my afghan about me and took my dog out into the yard, I passed a mirror and I thought, omg the transformation is nearly complete.

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Sorry, Maman.

But during The Walking Dead, I scream at the people in the tv as though they can hear me. I know they can’t hear me, but there I am, just like my mother, “Girl, don’t you go in there!” and “Jesus Fucking Christ, Lori! Pick up a gun! Don’t nobody need clean laundry right now!”

Do you watch The Walking Dead? Do you scream at the television? Are you turning into your parents?

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