so, magically, frank got me to cook for myself because i thought i was cooking for him. i'm eating alone but it's really a very complete meal. and it's all there because i thought he'd be sitting down to eat with me. isn't that ironic? i was planning on maybe making myself an omelet at most. not that there's anything wrong with that or that it would be incomplete somehow, but it turned into grilled chicken, steamed broccoli, diced cucumbers and tomatoes and a sweet potato. ::sigh::.
looking around, i think that things might not look so bad if i only hoarded magazines. but i also hoard houseplants and then insist on trying to rejuvenate them despite their obvious death. and other people's furniture. i hoard that too. and lamps. for some God-awful reason I have enough lamps to light three in each room most probably. it really is all too much. and mail. i have mail all over the place.
the problem with having all of those types of foods on one plate at the same time is that i eat the cucumbers and tomatoes first, and it doesn't matter if they wait to be eaten because they're already cold. i'll think about what to say next while i eat the food that should be eaten while warm...
i just absent-mindedly put a tissue in the front pocket of frank's hoodie that i'm wearing. he'll find it later because i will most probably forget to remove it. he hates finding tissues in his pockets after i've worn something of his. i kind of revel with glee in his disgust though, because not much disgusts this guy. it's kind of a rare treat. not that i gross him out with tissues on purpose but i suppose i do because i'm knowingly leaving my tissue in the front pocket of this hoodie.
my mom thought that i might have almost passed out this morning because i'm pregnant. i hope i'm not pregnant but what if i am? i'd tell grammy. ask her for guidance. i don't know if anyone else sees her as the matriarch but i like seeing her in that light. i like to think that she has more power and grace than she probably has. she used to waltz out of a dance late at night in highland park and walk across the river into new brunswick and all the way up to...the name of their street escapes me but i think it's brave, even for her day. (why are these days not her days too?...odd.) i hope i have brave stories for my grandchildren. i hope i live to see my grandchildren. i hope i have children. someday. not today. or soon. anyway, grammy. i like when she cares enough about something to want to see it happen, when she puts her foot down and says "no" (like, with her index finger pointing sort of downward due to arthritis) "i want so and so to do whatever". good for her when she does that.
i think that's enough rambling for one night. i'm pretty sure i started typing this half an hr ago. good night and happy early veteran's day.
Sentimental Tune
ReplyDeleteGrammy is quite the matriarch. I feel like unfortunately some people in our family just view her as the "grandmother" and nothing else. you get what I mean? Like shes just the one who holds holiday parties in her home. She's the Dumbledore of our family and if family members would only sit down and listen to what she has to say and her knowledge of the mistakes or trips in her lifetime maybe someone would learn something and possibly make less mistakes in their life. She also does that whole thing were shes not going to tell you what to do. She's more of a you make your own choices and your own mistakes and i'll be here for you if you need/ask for help. (So like Dumbledore) You never know really. I just know that I feel like I have to make up for all the lack of caring that our quite populated family line does. or doesn't do.
Grammy's wonderful and our family needs a healthy smack.
The End.
I like it! And I agree.
ReplyDelete