Skip to main content

Good enough to eat thing.

In the new kitchen, people make oreo sandwiches stacked 9 middles high and it's disgusting but fairly decent entertainment. Some people stole at least half those Oreos while I had my back turned fetching milk and that's so wrong of people.

In the new kitchen, people can belly up to the bar for bowls full of salsa with ridiculous amounts of fresh cilantro. Some people can't rest knowing there's homemade salsa with cilantro about and others know they're only getting it that one time until the next time so better make the best of it.

In the new kitchen, people can hang around reciting Star Wars while the crock pot is loaded up with the Indonesian chicken thing from that skinny website. Some people go too far aggravating other people and get kicked out.

In the new kitchen, people's little friends pop in and out after Yoohoos and grapes. Some people tell their friends it's okay to eat snacks on the couch but it's not.

In the new kitchen, people have room to leave their juicer out all the time. Some people even leave it right next to the sink where it's in other people's way but people don't say so because they don't wanna make trouble.

In the new kitchen, people have space to create meals even when the sink is full. But don't tell some people I said so because they'll never do the dishes in a timely fashion again.

In the new kitchen, people enjoy dates but forget about the chocolate sponge cake. Some people buy too many treats because they juice of a morning and can get away with it even past their 41st birthday.

In the new kitchen, people gather like never before because we've room to grow and be again. Some people smile to themselves considering this and are grateful and sentimental at once.


Popular posts from this blog

Just get out the way, and let the gentleman do his thing.

Retired Memphis Police Department Chief Inspector Robert Jones came to my pool party the other day. Over hot dogs and fruit salad, he regaled his grandchildren with tales of his days in Special Services on the police force. That's SWAT to you and me.

Among those anecdotes, he spins a yarn that includes a tear gas capsule hidden on the motor of a car full of pimps and ladies of the night, effectively expelling these law breakers out of a Buick Electra 225, running crazy. Later, he would be appointed Chief Inspector, along with fellow officer James Bolden (who also served MPD director), climbing his way up the career ladder with an excellent work ethic. But, before all that, he was a regular joe on the beat, paying his dues. Only, this fiery, young Irishman was going to do it his way.

They called him The Flame. Not only for his ability to run like one but, there was also that shiny red hair. In his youth, his stubborn independence got him into some trouble so he channeled that and mad…

I was so scared to face my fears.

Why You even trust us with so much, I can't even imagine. We alternate between pumping triumphant fists in the air and rocking quietly in the corner, squeezy eyes and knitty brows, vulnerable to the next thing next. In a matter of weeks, issues that include extreme trauma, mental illness, genetic disorders, and tired, old grudges, which serve to poison the waters, pass through our hands. We stand, arm in arm, carefully considering whether we are meant to dodge or take the shots:What are we supposed to be to learning?
Can we set it gently to the side and move along?
Is this our burden to bear for a season?
Who is wearing hearts on sleeves?
and should we?It's hard to say in a world of emotions but I KNOW our hearts are true. Even in their ugliest states, we keep it real. Sometimes, we're all Daigle, inspired and fortified, but, as many times as not, we're blasting Adele, accidentally alienating the ones we love and raw as can be. Let's just keep the Gungors, Eminems …

You built me palaces out of paragraphs.

You're so sure I don't hear your words. Maybe you think there's too much weary history for me to contend with New & Fun. You hear told of the time before yours and sometimes you feel alone. Maybe you've even wondered if I'm still up to the challenge.
You assume too much, Love Child, because yours are the words I've been waiting for all my life.
So many words.
My time before you taught me to talk less and hear more but I sift through ALL your words and listen for your heart.
Without your words, how could I know that you sometimes say what you don't mean just because you feel too much to articulate?
Without your words, how could I know that you are unsure and insecure about who you might become?
How could I know, were I not listening, that you often hold back because you think it's not quite your time?
Without your words, how could I know how much you root for the underdog with a righteous anger?
Without your words, how could I know that you often …