Daddy called me tonight - basically to check and make sure I was alive seeing as how I haven't posted anything in about two weeks. Well- not true. He knows I'm alive because he saw me at church on Sunday. But, he did raise a good point: I've not been posting recently. I don't have any real good reason. I've written posts a few times in the past few weeks but not published them because they turned out too negative and I was ashamed of being so whiny. I mean- come on, I really have no right to complain about anything. I have a more comfortable life than millions of other people on this earth. I should just hit myself upside the head with a cheerful two by four and get on with life. It's kind of a strange feeling when you can't explain why things seem so dark. And when you try to analyze all the little reasons, it still doesn't add up.
Plus, in true winter-blah fashion, it seems like there hasn't been a whole lot to write about.
Except...now that I think of it...
Last Monday it was very nice and warm and Katie and I got frappucino-esque drinks and went for a walk in a wildlife conservation area thingy. And we just had a marvelous time. We saw many turtles and she even reached into the bog and pulled a little one out - it was a snapping turtle- and we both stared at it for a while, as it retreated indignantly into its shell. Katie is brave- I couldn't even touch it. Sometimes we didn't even walk; we just stood in the sun, talked, and enjoyed being warm...and outside! I like Katie!
And Grandpa poured the last of the orange juice onto his cereal on Sunday morning. Took me quite aback. Plus, when I did his laundry on Friday, and asked him to bring his sheets up so I could wash them, he didn't seem to think it was really necessary. When I tried to convince him that, yes, it was about time I washed them, he said okay, but he was going to just bring up the sheets and leave the pillowcases on the pillows- and just turn the pillows over. I had to fight the urge to laugh and scream and wave my arms around in horror. I didn't want to get into a knock-down, drag out fight with an eighty three year old man, so I let him have his way. I'll get those pillowcases yet.
Plus I got a beautiful wreath and some very nice chocolate for Valentine's Day.
And we had dinner at Dan and Pari's the other night; she fixed a fantastic Indian dinner for us. That was a lot of fun. Nothing like ethnic food that is authentic! Plus, the cook kindly took into consideration that I don't do super-hot food. It was perfect -- spicy but not too spicy.
Speaking of dinner and super-hotness, last night I had a disaster. I had gotten these wings for a special treat- Grandpa loves wings. Last time I made them for dinner, some weeks ago, they disappeared alarmingly fast, and in their place there was a mound of chicken bones. Kind of like the reverse of the story in Ezekiel. Anyway- for some reason, when I was shopping for them this time, I thought I got Barbecue flavored wings. But no. I had gotten buffalo wings. I thought, "Oh well, no big deal," until about half way into the first one when suddenly my lips burst into flame. Well- it FELT like it. I was already in an absolutely foul mood- a raging/soap box/tirade/flaming/warpath/righteous/ avenging/resentful tornado of a mood- and thus far had been mostly successful in containing the outward effects of the funnel cloud of my temper ... so when my lips spontaneously combusted, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. So I sort of did a little of both.
Poor Grandpa and Brad- they just kept on meekly eating what I had set before them. I guess they have hardier stomachs than I because I gave up, stalked to the fridge and reheated some leftovers... and, shockingly, there were no other takers. I kept on telling them they didn't have to eat it and I kept apologizing, which Brad kept telling me not to do...he kept saying that everything was fine...which was flatly contradicted by the strange sight of his almost neon orange-pink lips. Grandpa tried valiantly to comfort me by saying something about how we just had to try to think harder of all the millions of starving people in the world. Is the thought of malnourished North Koreans any excuse for self immolation by buffalo wings?! As if scorching our innards into shriveled crisps would somehow miraculously provide them with sustenance... Fortunately, I had also just bought some sherbet- at the request of an ice-cream deprived Brad- and so with a great ironic twist, that really got Grandpa laughing, I produced a freezing dessert- the perfect antidote to The Dinner from The Bad Place.
Thankyou for calling, Daddy. I guess I could write something after all.