I am attempting to type this post with a babe in hand. Not the easiest thing to do since she really wants to eat the mouse cord...hmmm guess I need the cool wireless mouse afterall!

Been busy with county house things today, washer and dryer got delieverd, picked new floors. Slow but steady progress.

Babe has been busy adjusting to solids, sweet peas, sweet potatoes and oatmeal seem to be the top pics right now.

Busy but productive day.

I'll let babe type the restxfe s
dfgggfifiofjooeoldfl

Confession

I'm lazy. And I worry. And so that makes me a lazy worrier. What does this have to do with anything? Well, lets take a look at the two adjectives and see how they work together. Being lazy requires no real work, normally. It means that when I do have free time to do work (research/write) I normally don't. I end up surfing the net or blogging. I'm a worrier. What does that mean? I worry over everything. I tend to be pretty obsessive with both of those things, but whats weird to me is that it actually requires quite a bit of work to be a worrier, I mean you can't be but so lazy because it takes an awful lot of energy to concoct horrible images and situations in your head. What got me to thinking about this was Dooce's post on worry and anxiety.

I'd say that my first real panic attacks probably happened when I was about 6 or 7 years old. I can distinctly remember hearing my father come in the door and feeling sick. Let me go ahead and clear up things now, my dad was not a horrible man, he never laid a finger on me, never hurt any of us physically, but lets just say he had (and still does) have a way with words. It was around this age that I was in and out of doctor's offices because I constantly complained of stomach upsets and feeling sick, my exact description to my family was that I felt like, "cut up cheese," you know the feeling. What they thought was wrong with me was that I had a spastic colon, I'm starting to wonder now that I'm older and have more knowledge, if it wasn't that but if it was anxiety issues. Now I know my stomach would hurt and I'd feel horrible, but I also remember being so worried that my dad was gonna say something to me about my school work, or not doing something right. Those feelings are forever tied together in my head. Even now though as I think back, I'm not sure if I tied them together in later years or if there is definitely some type of connection.

I often wonder why I worry. I know for a fact that it doesn't solve anything, doesn't make me feel any better about myself, but I still just do it. And the creepy thing is that sometimes I even worry hen I don't worry because I don't feel 'normal'. One of the most miraculous things that has happened to me occurred when I was in labor with babe. I had to labor for like 10 hours without any pain medication and I never once flipped out. Lets just say everyone was shocked. But it was like something took over and I didn't once get nervous or upset. Mind you, the entire time I was pregnant I kept trying to figure out if there was a way I could have the babe without having the babe. I'd even thought of doing a home birth because I was so afraid of hospitals/doctors/etc and I ended up having an actual surgery! But I never flipped, not once.

I think that what helped was to remind myself of my purpose and to let myself know that labor would not last forever and that no matter how much I worried, nothing was going to change anything at all. When I think about how much I still worry, and I find that I do it in a different way now, Dooce's post rings in my ears. I think that I also worry sometimes because I feel guilty. I felt extremely guilty after babe's birth because the surgery my grandmother had for her cancer did not go well. I started to worry that maybe there was something still wrong with me, or that in some way my good fortune lead to her not having the results we wanted. If I get a good report from school, or hear of something happening that seems like its working in my favor, I worry and start to think about all the bad shit that could go wrong.

I think that I really need to take some time to learn from what I experienced when I had babe. To focus and to let yourself just go and be like water. Bruce Lee said that. Because to become so worked up does nothing. It won't get you anywhere.

Learn to swim.

So, how does this connect with laziness? Its easy for me to keep worrying and to continue in this habit. Its what I know and it takes work to correct myself and tell myself to "SHUT UP ALREADY!" But I think there is also an element of fear. What do I do if I don't have worry? That crutch that keeps me from doing things like sending off that article? Taking the GRE again, applying to school?

The post I had about being at a Crossroads is right, but I don't need to think about why I'm not applying to school versuses trying to get a 'real job'. Its deeper than that, I need to figure out how to rid myself of this anxiety demon because its what stops us all from doing so much.

Benefits of a PhD

No more adjuncting (maybe).
Tenure track job=work for life.
Holidays. ;-)
Research. mmmm yummy research, and lots of books.
Books.
Reading.
Books.
Working with others who are interested in my field, no longer having to bore my family or babe with random rhetorical factoids.
Travel.
Writing.
Reading.
Did I mention more books?

Crossroads

I'm at a very intersting intersection in my life. This past year has been such a roller coaster ride of emotions, from shear elation to a sadness I wouldn't wish on my worse enemy. But now I've got time to think, to really try and think about what I want to do and I never realized how hard that is. Up until this year I *knew* I wanted to get a PhD and finish my education, but now with wee Babe sometimes I'm not so sure. But then I'm left wondering where I want to go from here, if I don't get a PhD I'm sure not gonna teach full time writing at 4 year colleges, not the way things are going now. I've done the community college circuit and nothing has ever panned out because they really want PhDs even though many profess they don't, bull shit.

I also think about money now that I have wee babe. I want her to be comfortable, but I don't need to be rich in order to do that.

Too much to think about and I've got to go to class tonight and talk.

Bah.

Riders on The Storm

Riders on the storm
Into this house were born
Into this world were thrown
Like a dog without a bone
An actor out on loan
Riders on the storm

-The Doors

I thought about Riders on The Storm when I read Tree's post about her Thanksgiving and feeling the 'calm before the storm'. I think my family and myself feel like we're riding out this hurricane as best we can.

This was our first Thanksgiving without my grandma and it was just not a bad day. We were all trying to still make it happy for Babe because it was her first, but it was hard to do that because she didn't even really know it was turkey day time. So, inevitably, we tried too hard and set up too many expectations of ourselves and it ended up being rather shitty and sad. My mom usually does all the cooking but this year could not bring herself to make a turkey, granny used always cut the turkey and we just couldn't look at a bird without her hands being there to cut it up. So, my mom made bar-b-que chicken, mac and cheese, greens, mashed potatoes and sweet potato pies and it was o.k. Just o.k. but it wasn't the food, my mom can throw down like none else, it was the fact that everything was so different and we were trying even harder to make it even more different. We were all acting, but without even really acting if that makes sense.

My uncle also cooked at his house and wanted us to all come over, but before we could make it out there my aunty called to say he'd been taken to the hospital for chest pains. So we waited anxiously until they called back, and thank God he was fine, just gas and a broken heart, or the later is my own diagnosis.

I also had a random friend from high school come by, her mom had heard that I'd had a babe and visited a couple of weeks ago. Random friend (who really wasn't that much of friend because she tried to get me beat up once, that's a story for another day) lives and works in NOVA and has just bought a place up there. My dad overhead this info and proclaimed that she was doing "big shit, because she left and never looked back." This was preceded by him telling my bro and I the night before that we were loosers. My bro because he's not going to school, me because I didn't start the PhD program. Dim the lights on hope.



So, we ate and tried to talk and have fun. My cousins and I ended up looking at pics of folks we knew and trying to make ourselves feel better by telling ourselves that we really aren't doing that bad. That didn't work but for so long.

Now I think we are all worried and anticipating Christmas. We always did Xmas eve at granny's house, I just went there for the first time in months tonight and it was hard, but I felt guilty because I never go and my aunty and her kids still live there. So, I don't know what we'll do for that holiday, everyone keeps telling us we'll get through this and that we'll be closer and have fun at holidays again, but right now I don't feel it. I almost dread it, even though again, its Babe's first.

I think the entire family just still feels so lost with out granny. She was our center and now its like we've all dispersed, like what happens to an atom when you divide it, all the electrons fly out and disperse to other atoms, or some shit like that. We're just all bouncing, some times together, but more often than not, so alone, so alone. Fade to black.

I do have my moments of clarity, when I can say or see how I might try something, but then because of all this stuff that has happened I'm even afraid to plan anymore because I realize how little control I have in life. I want to try to slowly get myself back on a schedule, try to keep teaching, try to get into a program again, but I feel like everything is so scattered and just keeps changing, I don't know where to grab first. Enter Faith from the left.

When things change I have a hard time bouncing back. Like now, I feel like I'll never get into school again. And I won't if I don't study for the GRE and try to actually work towards doing stuff on my CV. I also can't have a good work schedule if I'm staying up until 2 and 3 still and then sleeping away the rest of the day. If I wanted to, I could go to bed with the babe and still get up at 8 or 9 and read. But I feel so knocked off the school horse that its hard for me to get back up there and take control again. Resilience, please take center stage.

I don't know. I guess I should just take it one step at a time and not even put too much hope into Christmas. We did get more stuff done at the county house and hopefully we'll have plumbing by Tuesday or Wednesday at the latest. At least I'll have a pot to pee in.

Exit stage.

What I am Thankful For

By: Ilnizzzah B. Blog

This Thanksgiving I am Thankful for many things:

*babe
*a very loving and understanding hubby
*a new house that is almost done (minus bathrooms, some ceilings, and some paint, but really its not that bad)
*family
*books
*far away friends in warm sunny places
*time off
*Coke

Have a Happy T-Day!

Step Two

I actually followed through on my ye ole post and have not tried to beat myself up today for not reading theory, writing, or researching. How the hell was I supposed to do all that without actually having a place to do so?

But anyways...the holidays are here, whether I'm ready for them or not and this year is mixed with so many emotions. We will of course miss our granny because at Thanksgiving she was always the one to cut the turkey and proclaim when it was time for folks to go home. At Christmas, it was her house we gathered around to talk and dance. Then of course we've got the babe this year. While she doesn't know much about holidays, its weird how I still feel this need to go through the traditions with her. I know she won't remember this Christmas or Thanksgiving, but its like you want to start with the traditions already.

Last year at this time I was preggers and also a bit sad too, thinking back over how things were going at that time, but now I realize I had no idea what I was in for.

I'm feeling a bit better today, things don't seem quite as cloudy and I'm hoping this mood sticks around longer than the turkey.

Step One

I've realized from looking at some of my old posts that I have been stuck for quite some time. And I'm not making any promises here, but I've got a long way to go and I know that I'll probably slide back a few times, but I've got to try harder than I'm doing now.

Tree of Knowledge suggests learning to let go and she's right. I can't keep thinking that I'm gonna be able to do everything. That was one of the problems I had right after babe was born. I kept thinking that I should be able to be the same person I was before babe. What does that mean? That person stayed up until 2 or 3 in the morning, making lecture notes, reading comp theory, Kennth Burke, grading papers, making 'fun' games, and watching alien abduction shows. A really dear professor told me that one of the worse things I was doing to myself was trying to hold on to that old person and not allowing this new person to take over. I can't stay up and do that anymore, that doesn't mean that I can't still go back to school or be a good teacher or writer or researcher, but it just means I've got to do things differently now. Maybe, just maybe I can be better organized now, because babe has forced me to be organized, in her own little disorganized way.

So, I once had another professor who kinda went crazy, but was actually always really good to me and DH, tell me once that the most difficult thing is deciding what you want to do. After that, all you have to do is to make a plan and then put everything in action. So, thats what I'm working on now, deciding what I want to do. I've got some ideas...but for those of you who know me so well, I'd like to hear what you think.

1. Stay where I'm at (location wise) for the next year or two. Babe needs stability and I do too with babe. Plus, we've put too much time and effort into county house to just abandon it. I feel like I can be nutured in this environment and thats what I need before I launch into a doctoral program.

2. Take a class in the Spring. I need to just get back into the 'practice' of writing and I'm lucky that there just happens to be a wonderful class being offerred in the Spring that I can take.

3. Create a good teaching portfolio. I need one regardless for grad school or for Instructor-ship positions.

4. Make a new CV. I never really made one in the first place. Any good suggestions of format?

5. Try to write for a conference paper call, or submit to a journal. And I mean really doing it, not just saying that I am and then not following through with the work.

6. Figure out why and how I teach. I need a teaching philosophy that states more than, "I use a collaborative rhetorical process approach."

7. Do some volunteer work again, I need to step outside of myself.

8. Start to think about what I really want to study and write about for 5 years of my life.

9. Keep blogging. This is about the only writing I do on a regular basis and it helps. A lot.

10. Wait to begin numbers 1-8 until I'm settled into county house. Its hard to work when you are living out of one room.

The Mask

I'm feeling like I need to wear a mask. I'm hiding.

From myself.

I'm feeling lazy and downtrodden and just sick of it. I want to be in my house. I want my clothes to be clean and straight. I want to be able to eat when I'm hungry and fix good meals. I want to be able to read again, to write again, I want to be hungry again, not for food but for knowledge of self.

I used to know what I wanted, and when I'd figure out something I'd work for it. But this year, I've had so many obstacles and distractions that I've let myself go.

I can't do this shit no more. I write and complain so much and feel like an idiot when I go back and read what I've written, because the power is in my hands. I have the ability to choose and work towards whatever my goal is. But I'm lazy about it, I'll be honest, its me.

So that's why I'm wearing this mask, because now I've got to decide who this person is underneath and what she's done to herself, is doing, and where she's gonna go next.

Making some changes, making a list, checking it twice

Got lots done today:

hair cut
manicure/pedicure
lunch with DH and babe
some christmas gifts for the babe
paid bills
balanced check book
new list for county house
*finally* changed my address with dmv
figured out i can really do whatever in the hell i want about school/work/etc

Got more to do tonite:

another list for county house
finish laundry
watch Law and Order
relax
think more about what in the hell i want to do with school/work/etc

I had to go to the DMV today to change my addy and stuff and while I was there I saw so many young (we're talking 15-17 years old and I know this because they were talking about being in high school) with babies. Young girls with babies, its nothing new and in some ways its an 'old' issue and one that doesn't get as much attention anymore, but it just got me to thinking. There should be programs out there for these girls. Maybe there are and I just don't know about them. But these are the ladies who need prenatal yoga and massage, how frucking stressed would you be at 15 with a baby on the way? They also need to know how to learn to give themselves the respect they deserve so they aren't out in the street trying to find it.

I know how hard it is to have a babe in a committed relationship. I can't imagine if I had to do this alone, and if I were 10 years younger.

>>>>Keep up the Thinking<<<<<

The Confessions of a Nervous Mum

Its not something that I'm super proud of or anything, but I am a worrier. I do it like breathing, it just comes natural to me. I see to always find myself stressed out or worked up over something. The past couple of weeks its been work and school. Before the babe was born I was thinking that I'd be easily studying and applying to go to grad school for next fall. I had no idea that I would still not be getting any sleep with her being 6 months old nor did I think I'd be at a point where I'd much rather read Good Night Moon than bell hooks.

But I am. I'm trying to take this time to do what my own mother suggested, reorganize my thinking and try to figure out exactly what it is that I want to do and then create some type of plan for those goals. But I'm finding myself getting very nervous.

I want to go back to school. I want a PhD and a tenured job. But I'm scared shitless. I have friends in programs right now and they don't have kids and seem to be having a hard time. I don't want the babe to suffer because I still get a kick out of pedagogy, reading, resaerch, and trying to tie together random bits of knowledge that no one else seems interested in. I want to have more kids, well maybe just one more. How do we as women work for this balance?

I'm not willing to sell my soul or sacrafice my family for career, but I still want career too, I guess I'm just going at this in a different way. How can I work towards my goal with my little one still being my primary focus.

I'm calling on all you ye ole Phd-ers and mums and who-ever else has something to say about this to help me out.

How do I create balance? How can I work towards getting myself back in a program now? How can I be competitive, but at the same time show my daughter that you can't be a super-woman, just a woman who tries to do it all, damn that don't even make sense to me.

Help.

Run on for a long time...

I'm really into Johnny Cash now. I've been listening to his cds for the past 1 or 2 years. DH and I got reintroduced to him through Elvis. We watched a special on Elvis a couple of years ago and then became really into his music. I think I just passed him off as 'Elvis' not really understanding the impact he made to the music world. I know that I used to be pretty biased when it came to music from that time period just because I'd always been told that Elvis 'stole' music from black folks and pawned it off as his own creation. Now, while I don't know if he did that intentionally or not, what I do know is that there were probable black folks who were doing that kind of music but didn't get the same amount of attention or play because they were black folk.

Now back to Cash. There's just something about his music that takes me back to being a child and listening and watching my Pa-Pa when he would listen to the radio or his CB 'talkie' as we called it. My Pa-Pa was a truck driver and always had a CB radio in his trucks. I would beg him to let me sit in the truck with him, I'd climb up on the leather sits, feet not touching the floorboards decorated with Yosemite Sam. Then I'd wait patiently for him to tune into a station and start talking. This was probably my first introduction to a language other than English. I would get him to talk and then translate to me what the others were saying. Some of the conversations were probably not at all appropriate for me, but when he would tell me how the truckers would be looking around for a place to eat, or talking to one another about the weather or traffic. I loved listening, it was like they had their own little world and with that their own way of communicating. The thing I really enjoyed was the secrecy that surrounded the language because no one else knew how to speak this except my Pa-Pa and the voices that came out of that box.

I found this website that has some CD slang.

This wooly bear is gonna truck it easy on down to the county house, got work to do 10-17there today. Hoping that the 10-17 down there goes well.

10-10.

Da easter Bunny

When I was in elementary/middle school (grades K-8, because in Catholic School thats how we did it) I performed in musicals. We had a music teacher who loved doing fall and spring productions. You had to be in the choir to participate and I because I was totally overzealous and liked to participate in everything, I was in most of the musical productions.

We did everything from Fame, to The Easter Bunny Who Couldn't get Sold, To the 'Greatest Gift'. We even had costumes. Well, sort of, most often they consisted of the choir wearing black pants and white blouses, or white pants and red blouses. You get the picture. One year I remember we did a particularly big number for our School's Spring Festival where we sang the theme song from Fame and then did a medley of Gershwin. At the time, it was just fun, and something to do. But looking back at it I can see how our choir director was really introducing us to all sorts of different music, and that was good for a school that had a majority of poor african-american kids.

We would practice like everyday after school for weeks. Singing, learning dance moves, and practicing our cues.

I have a confession to make: I never sang a note. I would lipsync the entire time because i was too afraid to sing, but loved being on stage.

One of those things that makes you go, hmmmm.

68.2

I am still very angry. We contacted the police in the county and they told us that things like that hardly ever happen in that area. That doesn't make me feel any better. And I know that this could happen anywhere and it does, but that don't mean very much until it does happen to you.

I also found out that my uncle believes the folks who approached him live in that neighborhood, what a welcome wagon introduction. How am I supposed to feel comfortable now. I do worry and thats something I've never felt before about a place where I live. I've felt uncomfortable in certain neighborhoods, but never fear.

And I also know that I shouldn't let someone have control over me like that, but I can't help it. There is so much on me right now, I don't feel like I have a choice, I'm scared and I'm angry.

I should be reading papers right now, but instead I've been doing some research on hate crimes. According to the Stats provided by the government, in 2005 there were 4,691 hate crimes that were reported as being racially motivated, of those, 68.2% were anti-Black.

As much as I want to say that things are good, better, whatever, I just feel so stiffled and filled-up right now. I want to believe that we as a country our headed in a positive direction, but with numbers like this, I don't know. What's the problem? What's the solution?

The problem is so large and the solution, I don't even know where we'd start until we can truly define the problem and how we got here. But you got too many folks now days who don't want to acknowledge the past, who think that because we are 'free' we should be thankful and just move on about our lives. That's a good part of the problem right there.

According to these stats, in 2005 VA had 295 hate crimes reported.

Where am I gonna raise my daughter?

I guess the question isn't so much where, as it should be how will I raise her, because by the looks of things this kind of ish is happening everywhere.

I just don't feel safe or comfortable.

Beef

" Some beef is big and some beef is small, but what ya'll call beef is not beef at all, beef is real shit happening everyday..."

-> Mos Def

Today at county house shit hit the fan. My uncle is working and doing most, if not all, of the remodeling on the inside. He's African-American. Believe me, that will be very relevant info in a few sentences. He drove out to the house like he has been for the past 4 weeks he's been working there. Two white men in a pick-up truck followed him, pulling out from around a corner in the subdivision. They drove to the house and parked and got out when he did. The conversation that ensued went something like this,

White man: What you doing 'round here?

Uncle: Working on this house.

White man: We don't want none of your kind round here.

Uncle: What are you doing bout mayne?

White man: I got kids in this neighborhood and I don't want your kind around here, I'mma call the cops.

Uncle: I can save you the time and trouble, becuase I'm gonna call the cops on you! This ain't right, I'm here to work.

More stuff said, white man got back in his pick up and so did uncle and all drove away.

Its fucking 2006 and some bigots have the audacity to try to fuck my shit up? They have kids and don't want 'his kind' around? I got a kid and I damn sure don't want her to be round no racists ass shit. I know its inevitable, I know, I know, I know, that no matter where you live there is going to be some kind of ism, but its goddamn 2006 and someone has the nerve to pull up on some shit like this? I'm in awe. Just shocked.

But maybe I shouldn't be. I live in the South, I've had people scream racist shit to me and DH as we walked togheter to school, and that was like 6 or 7 years ago. We've gotten stares, not been seated at a restaurant, had folks purposefully not serve us, and even had 'family' try to run game on us.

I'm not letting someone fuck up my place, where I want to plant roots and nuture my family for right now.

No.

How can they try to have me running before I even get there?

Me list!

Well, while I've not read the 68 essays that need to be read by morning I'm about 10 slides away from being done with my presentation and I've made a list of all the things I need to complete by the end of the week. Now, that list doesn't mean too much, but it does at least get the shish out of my head and into me cute little orange notebook.

The babe is still sleeping and so is her dad.
Better finish this up before they both arise and proclaim the necessity of my presence!

Let them eat cake or mustard, or Mrs. Dash, or, or something...just let them eat

I have found a new place to work here in my parent's house, the kitchen. Now, normally this wouldn't work because there would be a ton of folks in here cooking, eating, or watching TV, but tonight mom's not home from work yet, dad is napping, and babe and DH are in the living room. I am supposed to be working on a presentation, but finding it hard to do it. I would rather eat or blog.

My attention span is shot. I have a hard time focusing on any one activity and the ONLY thing that is motivating me to work on this presentation right now is the fact that tomorrow is my last day doing it!

Okie, I'm gonna play a little game with myself, I'll see how much I can get done in 1 hour.

BRB

progress

Well, we now have pipes in county house and door too! Its hard to believe, if you looked at the house now you'd be like, this is not that bad, it couldn't have possibly been as bad as you say, but oh yes it was!

Its almost 2:30 and I have not gotten much accomplished at all. Woke up at 9:30 with babe, watched some Seasame Street and then climbed back in the bed around 11:00AM and now I'm just getting up. I don't feel too guilty though because babe didn't go to bed until 2 last night.

I'm not letting myself stress over her sleepin habits today, as long as she does get some rest and eats and poops and pees, I'm happy.

Now I'm working on my final presentation for the little prep writing class I'm teaching, I'm so glad that's almost over and done with.

I gotta say, today is a good day.

saturday morning special

I'm feeling a bit better today, last night was kinda rough, and the post reflects that. I think that I was feeling tired and angry. This morning though, I woke up to a happy smiling babe in a cute purple pj suit with 'feet', warm waffles, oj, and family talking and moving about.

The county house is getting new doors today and more paint. Hopefully on Monday it'll get water, lol.

The babe is napping and quite happy with herself because on Wednesday she started to sit up on her own. Yesterday she turned six months old. I keep telling myself I just had her, and now she can sit up on her own, throw toys for attention and grunt when she poops. Time flies.

I'm also working on some of the much needed school work that I needed to do while I have some quiet time.

Not bad.

what you eat don't make me shit

Why do I care so much about what other people think?

Family, friends, random folks. I once knew a girl who didn't care about those things. I knew her and she would listen to whatever music she pleased, she would bop her head as she walked around in thrift store finds and a tape player when er-body else had a cd player. She didn't care.

And the turth is, that girl still doesn't care, but she doesn't care in another way now. An almost haphazard way.

I want so badly to get back to doing and working and just feeling good about myself and things. I want that, but then some days its just a struggle. I feel so far behind. With everything. I thought that I'd be together by now, but so much shit happened, and here we are.

****
"sounds like a love song," "i gotta make the song cry"
-Jay/Z

I feel like I gotta make my blog cry. My post last night, when my bro read it, said that it made him want to cry, and thats just how I was feeling. I wanted to paint a picture that was pretty, but sometimes things are so pretty and so beautiful that they make you sad.

I remember when, not even when I was little, but when I would go to my gma's house and sit around on the bed, finding a small space to try and sit down because er-body was up in there. On a Friday nights like this, we'd all be in and out of my gma's room. Eating, snakcing, laughing, and I can't even recall a specific conversation. I mean, it wasn't so much about what we said but it was just the fact tht we were all together. We would laugh at each other, rehash all the problems and difficulties we'd faced that week and gma would find a way to sort them all. If one of us was too quiet, she'd say, "Now, what on your mind?" And the shit that really gets me, is that she meant it, she wanted to know exactly what you were thinking, and if she didn't get it the first time around, she'd go through and have you explain again. Then, she'd repeat what you said, and she'd understand. She really would.

I think we are all missing that, we're missing having that one person who could keep us all together.

Last week, I went to my gma's house for the first time in months and it made me so sad. So sad, and not much has changed, but one significant thing had, the smell. My aunty now burns candles in the house, and my granny would have never done that. She didn't belive in lighting 'fires' in the house when you didn't have to. But now the house smells like sweet candles. Not like my sweet granny.

And I know that things have to change, I know what happens when you don't allow yourself to move past a certain stage, you never get a change to move past the pain, but I'm so afraid of not remembering.

"I know you can hear me now, for the record, I love you,"
mary-j

Pretty Memories

On the first of the month, when my aunty and granny would get the food stamp booklet in the mail, we'd all pile in the back of an old Buick and go to the grocery store. We would have been eating cornflakes and hamburgers for the last week of the month and would be eager to have some new flavor on our palates.

My granny would take one cart and my aunty another. Mostly my bro and cousins would follow my autny around in the grocery store because we knew she'd get the good stuff. My granny would get potatoes, meat, bread, peanut butter, juice, eggs, butter, lunch meats, waffles, syrup, and cereal. My aunty would get cookies, chips, lil'debbie snack cakes, and drink*.

We'd plow through the line with our two carts, not understanding what food stamps were, except for a way to get something good to eat. Not paying attention to the looks we'd get from other customers as we loaded froozen pizzas, ice cream, and candy bars onto the register's belt. See, we hadn't learned words like handout, welfare, liberal, conservative, poverty. We just knew that these brightly colored notes were our tickets to Count Chocula and powerded donoughts.

Our food stuff from my autny's cart would be gone by the end of the week. A bag of chips left opened on the table would allow the chip crumbs inside to turn soft, the kind that melt on your tongue without any drink. The cookies would all be gone, except for the vanilla creme ones that no one liked, and the drink would have been downed in a day.

But what would remain would be the meat and bread and peanut butter my granny brought, and she'd find a way to get in you, especially if you were hungry, and even more so if you were hungry but just didn't know it.

What would remain was knowing that there would always be something to eat, thanks to her resourcefulness and planning.

We always had the cornflakes. And if you wanted a sweet treat, you put sugar on them. But just enough to sweeten the milk a bit.

Pretty memories.