The air is turned down a bit lower than it should be, the bean soup is boiling on the stove, and I’m drinking the hottest of coffee. I vacuumed the floor, I folded some laundry, and I balled up (another) watermelon. I’ve had a migraine on and off for the past several days and I’m trying to not think about the migraine that lasted nearly half of last year’s summer, although something very good came out of that migraine and that something was this pair of shoes:
(I haven’t worn them since September, and I believe I will change that status before the month is over.)
Noteworthy: This particular migraine is making my fingertips especially sensitive to textures like towels, bed sheets, Henry the dog, and paper. If you were in the same room with me right now, you would probably be thinking, “Hrm. I wish I wasn’t in the same room with her right now.” Permission to leave? Granted! I hold no prisoners here, but I do feel the need to remind you that we’re going to be having bean soup. You might want to stick around.
I saw this in the parking lot at the gas station, and it’s been bothering me for days because I know exactly how someone out there feels right now:
Sometimes it’s raining and Henry the dog won’t stop barking and I pull up my Photo Booth app to capture my feelings photographically and I don’t really mind the filter that the most recent person was using, yet all of a sudden I look like I’m bleeding out of the corner of my eye, but it doesn’t bother me because I think bloody eyes (and the absence of eyebrows) don’t matter when skin is bright and green. (My hair is so long! It will be cut on Wednesday and then it will look even longer because I know a lady named Erin who is a wizard! Have I told you that it (meaning my hair) actually blows in the wind now? It blows in the wind along with The Answer, my friend! How many deaths will it take till he knows that too many people have died, Bob Dylan?!)
My FB feed has been filled with racist sentiments from some surprising (but mostly not so surprising) people over the past week and I might could partially blame my migraine on my own inability to understand why people say and do what they say and do. (“Might could” is a phrase I learned while living in Nashville. I hate it, but I mostly love it.) This morning one of my imaginary friends posted something particularly insensitive and disgusting. Their post was followed by a post from a woman in my Tour de Fleece group:
The yarn is lovely, and the final sentence of her status update was perfect in so many ways.
The bean soup? It is ready. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>
FB has been filled with a special amount of ugliness lately. However! I did find out that a few people who had been ugly about race previously have changed their stance and some of them credit me (well, my kids) (can I take credit then?) with the mind changing.
Apparently posting all those pictures of my beautiful Ugandan sons helped them realize that they (like everyone) have some issues with race. (We all do. What matters is what you do with that information.)
I’ve been pleasantly surprised with the positive response of many of my Facebook friends. I’m sorry your experience has been the opposite! I did, however, unfollow news feeds for the near future. I can’t take it right now.
And today I felt proud about leading a conversation in our adult Sunday school class about lifting others burdens that they might be lighter and choosing to love others like brothers. I want to be a person who takes more risks in loving other people.
I might could give you a high five for validating my feelings about that phrase. I learned it while living in Atlanta and feel exactly the way you do about it! (I would offer a hug but you seem like you might prefer a high five from a stranger, at least until we’ve met and become nonstrangers!) Love the spinning post–too much white spinning, indeed!
I, too, hope we meet one day and I’m no longer a stranger-slash-imaginary friend! (But I’m definitely *not* the imaginary friend who wrote something particularly insensitive and disgusting, unless it was about Trump, but it still wasn’t me because I only thought it and didn’t actually post anything anywhere (except here) (ooops).) <3
Who stole your eyebrows.