Thursday, November 25
This post is not about Thanksgiving, giving thanks, or thankfulness in any way, shape, or form.
This post is about FATNESS.
I was thinking about it today, how fat I'm getting. On this occasion, I justified it with, "oh, well it's the holidays...everyone eats more. Plus it's winter so I'm not wearing skimpy clothes. I can hide my fat rolls under all of my layers." This satisfied me for a few moments until my memory became too sharp for my own good.
Every season, spring, summer, fall and winter, I come up with SOME excuse to make myself feel better about my weight gain.
Spring: Oh, I'm just still retaining weight from my winter body. It's cool. I don't have to prance around in daisy dukes and tank tops for a few more months.
Summer: Now that school is out I'm drinking more, but it's okay, so is everyone else. And at least I'm not wasting any of my precious time at the gym. Working out is for SCHMUCKS!
Fall: School is back in session so I'm just busy getting my schedule together. WAY too busy to eat right or exercise. Obviously my 12 hour course load, half of which is online, is much too time consuming to dedicate any time to being healthy.
Winter: It's the holidays. The end. I'm eating a midnight cookie AS I TYPE.
Monday, November 22
Apparently my computer decided that it has had enough. It officially told me that I have too much CRAP saved on my computer and that it would cease to function if I didn't delete/relocate some files. So today since my Mama is in town for Thanksgiving, we went and bought an external hard drive with Daddy's credit card. =) THANKS DADDY. Also, (sorry for anyone who reads this blog for interesting/moderately humerous/sarcastic entries. This is not one of those)
MY EPIPHANIE "LOLA" CAMERA BAG CAME IN AND I'M OBSESSED. Another THANKS DADDY. This was an early Christmas present for my trip to Italy. I'm sure some of you will remember my earlier posts about it.
Any female photographer who wants a stylish and practical camera bag, you MUST buy one of these. They aren't too pricy, either, so if you're shopping on a budget, just bite the bullet and GET ONE! Here are some pictures. The interior has adjustable velcro dividers and I'm still in the process of deciding how exactly to organize. Almost as fun as when I organized my Filofax! hahahaha.
Category • Life of Late
Sunday, November 21
Back from a fabulous weekend in New Orleans.
Here are a few of my fave memories:
Nacho Mama's had THE most delicious fake Mexican food EVER.
having crazy randoms jump into our pictures
window shopping and site seeing in the French Quarter
Trying on weird ear warmers
Getting Daiquiris on Decatur
The view from our hotel room!
Category • Travel
Thursday, November 18
I recently had to go to the doctor. Nothing major. They just needed to run some tests to determine why I have such a high IQ. You know how it is.
Anyway, while I was there I was reminded how much I loathe waiting rooms. I get my impatience from my mother, and let me tell you, sometimes it can be pretty nasty.
Waiting rooms are awful for a few reasons:
ONE: I always wait way past my scheduled appointment time. I don't care how urgent or trivial my medical concerns are. They are never running on time for me. Of course, the lady whose appointment was 45 minutes AFTER mine gets called back before I do, and I sit there twiddling my thumbs and gnawing on the inside of my cheek for another hour. I think even if I was about to give birth in the middle of their floor, they'd still find a reason for me to wait a little bit longer.
And if I even DARE to approach the demon-woman behind the counter, all she does is chew her gum at me and say they'll be with me ASAP...which equates to WHENEVER THIS LAVA FLOW TURNS TO SOLID ROCK.
TWO: Everyone stares. Seriously. Even if there's only one other person in the room, he or she is ALWAYS staring at me. I'm generally always a little self conscious, so naturally I start wondering why this person is trying to burn a whole in my forehead with their eyes. Am I bleeding from my ears? Has one of my limbs spontaneously disconnected from my body and I haven't noticed? Why are you unable to avert your eyes?
I do it too, though. I'm a starer. I stare at everyone. I watch people come in, check in at the counter, and I love to watch as they glance awkwardly around to try to decide which seat is next to the person who is least likely to give them Tuberculosis, which brings me to my next reason:
FOUR: They tease you! I finally hear some chipper young RN call my name. YES! I'M FINALLY OUT OF THIS FORSAKEN ROOM! LOL J/K. She measures how tall I am, because I'm 21 and clearly might have grown since my last appointment 6 months ago. Then she weighs me, because let's be honest, everyone's self-esteem needs to be deflated daily. She takes my blood pressure, and asks me an array of questions, most of which are embarrassing. WOO for sharing time. Then she escorts me back to the pit of despair from whence I came, only to sit for another excruciatingly long period of time.
FIVE: I have to pay for this experience. It's like they hand crafted me a rainbow or something. Of course I want to pay a stranger to stick foreign objects into my hoo ha. Here, let me give you a tip, too. You did, after all, tell me that I need to floss more regularly. Who doesn't deserve 7 figures a year for that? Really, I ought to be billing the doctor for my wasted time. I could be out rescuing beached whales or discovering the cure to restless leg syndrome or something equally profound.
Thursday, November 4
Funny thing, laughter is.
Russell lips curled downward. Frown smiling. He only showed teeth with the heartiest of chuckles, that booming kind of laugh that passed over the air like a commercial jet. He had soft wrinkles at the corners of his mouth, little individual smiles like bookends for his lips. At his eyes, too. Brown eyes. A brown that was deep and fickle, sometimes green looking, always dark, never harsh.
Mattie stared at Russell’s words as he filled out the personal card to accompany the flowers. She read each word to herself as he wrote it, feeling the way her tongue grazed her front teeth with every ‘t’ that he crossed, lusting for the emotion he put into all of the sentences, wishing for it to be different.
He finished the note, put it in the tiny matching envelope and sealed it.
Russell bought flowers for Ada every morning from Mattie’s shop, Boutique del Fiore. Every morning for the past year. Always in the morning on his way to work. Always in the morning on his way to work because Mattie’s shop was right next to his office building. He picked them up in the afternoon on his way home. Russell and Mattie were not in love anymore. Because of Ada. Russell wanted to be in love with Mattie again.
“I’ll never be able to forget her. I’ll never be able to move on or go back to the way it was before she happened,” Mattie told Russell.
“I want to be able to make you happy,” he said.
“Happiness doesn’t mean the same thing, anymore. Why don’t you buy the flowers from somewhere else?”
Before Ada, Mattie started almost every sentence with laughter. It was all funny, everything in the whole world. Her laughter was the first thing Russell noticed, like it was magnetic. He was drawn to it. He found her in the bookstore, laughing out loud to a story in Jesus’ Son.
“He told him to talk into his bullet hole,” she grinned with teeth that were just the right size for her mouth. “It’s weird. I wonder why they sell this book in English. Out of all the books they could sell in English, this is one of them.”
They met in Italy. Two Americans in the same small town at the same small bookstore made Mattie laugh.
“Must be destiny, huh?”
“If you believe in it,” he said.
“Sometimes I do. Like when I decide to talk to strangers. Or how I sometimes believe in ghosts because it makes the settling sounds of my apartment more interesting. Only sometimes. Because sometimes it scares me so I have to believe it’s not ghosts and just the sound of settling.”
It was a slow process, them falling in love.
“It’s impossible,” she said one time, “to love unconditionally.”
“What do you mean? I love you unconditionally. You can’t tell me I don’t.”
“So if I tied you to a metal post, doused you with gasoline and set you on fire, you’d still love me as you slowly and painfully burned to death?”
“Are you going to do that?”
“If you did that to me, I feel like that’d be a condition under which I’d stop loving you.” She swirled the water in her glass around, poking at the ice cubes with her straw and wondering if sea gulls ever worry about drowning.
“I’d never do that.”
“Maybe I’ve just never been deep enough in love. Maybe it’s all just been me trying too hard to believe in fairytales.”
“You can make your own fairytale, can’t you?”
“But if you set me on fire I don’t think I’d die loving you.”
That night, they’d laugh about her different sized breasts, her out of control hair, her inability to make decisions, and how they hoped their daughter wouldn’t be a thing like either of them.
“It’s funny how entire things can just go away,” she said to Russell the day after Ada happened. “All the feeling can just vanish, the meaning just fade, and at the same time, despair can seem so profound and encompassing. What else is there, now? What have I done?”
“It’s not your fault,” he tried to reason.
“You don’t get it.” She cried in his arms for weeks.
“Help me.” He’d cry with her.
And when she finally stopped crying, she just wasn’t there anymore.
“It’s possible. To love unconditionally. Ada taught me how,” she told Russell that morning at the flower shop a year later.
“Do you want to come with me this afternoon? We can take the flowers together.”
“I need to let her go,” she whispered.
It was sunny when they got to the cemetery and parked the car. It was the cold type of sunshine. Mattie’s favorite. She thought Ada might enjoy picking flowers in the cold type of sunshine.Ada’s little stone marker looked as new as the day it was put there. The baby birch tree they’d planted nearby was much bigger than Mattie remembered. It was taller than Ada would have been by then. Russell picked yesterday’s flowers up off the ground and handed Mattie the newly made bouquet of daisies. She held them to her chest for a moment before placing them on the ground next to her daughter’s grave.
Category • Writing
Mike and I were briefly at the Aiken fair over the weekend. I didn't get too many shots, but I'm hoping to get to the North Florida Fair while it's in Tally this week. I don't trust the rides and the food is expensive, but when you get a great picture, it's worth the stupid $6 dollar admission fee.
Here are some shots from last year's fair: