Today on a whim, Dad asked if we wanted to just get out and ride around. Of course Chase and I said that would be awesome, because just getting out and enjoying the scenery, and the conversations we have in the car are always enjoyable. We ended up over in Cherry Log and was able to meet up with my aunt (Mom’s oldest sister) and uncle on their way back to Marietta. This was the first time we’ve seen her since Mom’s funeral. Dad has seen her a time or two since then, but they talk regularly, which I think tremendously helps both of them. She gave Chase and I both the tightest hug that either of us have had in months, and it felt so good. I swear on the days that I feel in the dumps, I would give anything for just another one of those ‘just because’ hugs from Mom that made life go from seeming entirely pointless to purposeful and feeling needed. I told my Dad this evening, that hugging her felt so much like hugging Mom, and him and Chase both said they felt the exact same thing.
Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn’t something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step. There’s no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That’s the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.
And you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You’ll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.
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It’s not really too often that I run across a new artist that I like, but when I ran across Satellite sometime last week, I liked what I heard. All of their songs are available for listening on their site, and they generously give one away for free.
After hearing Hillary Clinton this morning babble on and on about China on Good Morning America this morning, it’s really hard not to believe that our elected leaders are trying their very best, and succeeding as sad as it is, at giving our great country away. Allowing unfair trade deals, allowing currency manipulation for so long, and spending money like it’s going out of style, only proves their true intentions.
Undoubtedly one of the best things about snow in the south is snow cream. I can’t remember how we made it when we were kids, but the way we did it this time wasn’t bad. Actually it was good enough to put some extra snow in the freezer for another batch once we’re out.
Snow Cream:
1 cup sugar
1 cup milk
1 egg
You mix all of those together really well and then just mix snow in until it became about the consistancy of ice cream. Some recipes include Vanilla flavoring, but I couldn’t find it to use.
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Riding four wheelers, a walk around Downtown Dalton, and making a giant snowman.
A few photos from this set
I’m not one that’s ever been able to hold a grudge. Never have been, and probably never will be. It’s one of those traits that’s good to have, yet it sets you up to just continuously take belittlement and resentful remarks–sometimes biting your tongue day after day to ensure that a relationship doesn’t suffer. But I think there’s a time when it becomes okay to stop biting your tongue. A time when it becomes okay to just address it, and let the damage fall as it will. Because truly, every time you bite your tongue and just let something go that really shouldn’t be let go, and every time you overlook and don’t hold a grudge, is simply another chance for someone to change their ways and their attitude. I won’t hold a grudge, but I will always remember how I’m treated, and starting soon, I’m going to quit just letting resentful remark after resentful remark go, and address it for what it is. We’ll see what remains after the dust settles.
Lost time is never found again.
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