The tops of my feet looked like freshly baked loaves of bread: sun-browned and puffy. Rather inviting if they were actual loaves of bread instead of feet. It was day five of no electricity, thus no AC and the house was broiling in the mid-day sun. Penelope The Dog, freshly shaven and splayed out on the cool tile floor beside me, shared the barely cool breeze that made it’s way through the front door and out the back door.
I usually have anywhere from 5 on the low end, up to 25+ fully ready to heat and serve gluten free meals stashed in my deep freezer and my fridge freezer. I also have the entire first freezer drawer of my two drawer fridge freezer for all my gluten free stuff: frozen fruits for smoothies, GF chicken tenders, GF bread, GF sweets, etc. At any given time, I can pack a lunch bag and be anywhere, meals in tow. I’ve
I don’t remember what her face looks like. I remember that she had brown skin like mine, that she was wiry, where my own Mom had not been and that she had this boundless energy that I could not for the life of my five year old self, understand. What her sole mission seemed to be though, was to make me walk from one end of the hallway to the next, despite myself. At first it seemed simple enough: she
My Peers are in their late 30s/early 40s. Some have been to and graduated college or University. Some of them are married. Some have children. Many of them have careers that they either love or hate. All of them are making it through the best they can. And I am on the outside of their experiences, looking in, wondering what normal would feel like. Some time ago one of my peers posted how their Parent had a cold and that
In the midst of a morning full of fuckery that my sister and brother are bailing me out of… Me: (To Sister) If you wash my face, I’ll brush my teeth and I’ll be able to get done faster. Then you can get a yogurt for me so I won’t leave on an empty stomach. Sister: Okay, stand close to the bathroom door… (Gets washcloth and puts soap on it while I park like 6 feet