I’m a back and I am coming down off of the shakes and cold-sweats from Internet withdrawal over the weekend. Whew!
I’m thinking about a few things, so we’ll see how this all comes out:
1. I went to ATL for my family reunion on my mother’s side of the family. As with most families, family reunions are usually the pits. This one was great! I had a wonderful time, spent time talking to some folks I’ve only spoken to in passing and I am more convinced than ever that my family is nuts. But it was a lot of fun.
Why does everybody in the South have a nickname? I mean a straight up nickname…not like Lexi or anything. Here’s some of my family:
Sug (short for Sugar, so pronounce it correctly, that’s my grandmamma!), Honey (Sug’s sister), Head aka Sonny Boy, Spook aka Slick, Sheister, Scoopy, Cheetah, Cootie, and I know there are more I can’t remember.
And, if they aren’t all out nicknames that have nothing at all to do with your real name, they’re variations of your real name that have been used so often, your 42 year old brother doesn’t even know how to pronounce your real name! I swear to God this happened. My cousin Darryl, whose real name is Henry, but since his middle name is LaDarian, we call him Darryl…. Darryl had to read his family’s portion of the family tree. His sister Quinn had to correct him 4 times on the proper pronunciation of her real name, Quinicier (spelled Quincincier in the program, so who knows, maybe that’s it.) The point is no one has ever heard this name uttered, so no one knows how to pronounce it. Why give children names we don’t use? If you plan on giving your kids jacked up names (Henry and Quincincier) just to give them better nicknames before they leave the hospital, why bother with the jacked names?
2. And, people in the South, even Atlanta–as progressive as it is trying to be, live much slower, laid back lives. They’re not in a hurry for anything. Not even high-speed internet. My uncle had dial-up. I nearly died. I have included a link for those of you who may have forgotten what that means. It took me 30 minutes to check my e-mail. I just gave up. Blogs were not an option. I don’t understand how people function without unlimited 24 hour a day high-speed internet access. I think I may be an addict (in case you didn’t click it the first time). Do crackheads think everybody should do crack? I don’t think so. I really think everybody needs high-speed internet. It’s like water–8 glasses a day! I don’t even have to read blogs or post to mine. I just need to know that I can have instant access to information at my fingertips should I need it. Doesn’t everybody need this?
3. Oprah gets on my freaking nerves!!!! Sorry. She’s on now, invading my audition. OK. Now I’m watching the Secret Life of the Sandwich. Much better. Previously there was a WUSA-TV 9 special report on the demolition of the Woodrow Wilson Bridge. Food Network really is the only channel anyone needs.
4. I have reached a place many of the more well-seasoned bloggers I read have spoken of frequently. I’ve noticed that I’ve been here for some time now, and I’m putting it out here now, hoping that confession will help me stop. I find myself writing for a freaking audience. There are so many things that I filter out because of who might read it and what they might think about me. There are some things I find absolutely fascinating, that I just don’t talk about because it might not be proper for an ex-pastor/pastor’s wife. I hate that I do it, but I do. I lived that life for too long (pretending not to care about things others would disapprove of) so I’m going to stop doing it here. I brought this up in the comments to my last post, so I’ll say it here for all. If you don’t like what I say here, stop reading my blog!!! Don’t waste precious time judging me. Get. A. Life. OK. I feel like I’ve created some space for myself on my own damn blog now. Hate that I felt like I needed to do that, but I did. I feel better. And then again, I could just be self-deluded and grandiose to think that there really is someone out there with nothing better to do than judge the one who has already accepted her fate handed down by the holier-than-thou: hell in a handbasket with gasoline drawers!! I feel like I’m making progress, but I’m really scarred by the last 9 years of my life! Whew! Pray for me, ya’ll! LMAO.
5. I am so glad to be home and naked. I enjoy traveling, but nothing like your own space to just be you.
6. Oh, and injera makes me want to vomit. I love ethnic food. I love Ethiopian food, but this bread makes me gag. I hate the texture. It feels like you’re eating a sponge. I have a serious craving for comfort, stewy, family style, eat with your fingers food. But I need crusty bread. I had Roasted Red Pepper and Lentil soup with a baguette from Panera Bread for lunch today. I was in heaven. I didn’t even eat the half a sandwich I ordered with it. I love this kind of food. But, once a food activates my gag reflex, that’s it… forever! I can’t do it. Do you think the Ethiopians would be offended if I ordered a baguette with my Doro wat? Oh, Kitfo is out of the question too, along with all other forms of tartar. I’ve tried them. I hate them. I gag.
That’s all I’m thinking about right now. I have sooooo many thoughts about my weekend read: The Almond by Nedjma. I can’t decide where to start. I made a few comments here. I’m working on that post. Stay tuned.