Vows, undeserved

So, we usually do Secret Subject Swap where we each get a prompt someone else submitted and no one knows who got what until the day we publish. It's been a blast writing and reading so many different perspectives, but it's been a lot of years now, and most people have sort of fallen off doing these challenges. I've kept going even with intense insomnia that keeps me from writing as well as I used to in part because this has been such a big part of my life for so long and because I know having a deadline keeps me writing. But mostly I just wasn't ready to say goodbye to people whose only real connection to me is these posts. But for the second time in just a couple years, one of the few regulars passed away. Today, our post is about her. Every prompt is hers, a memorial post from everyone in a way, and honestly probably one of our last as a group. It's been rad, y'all. I might still be here righting but I'm just not sure right now.




My “Secret Subject” is:

What is the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to you in public? Tell us about it.

______________________

I've never had a soul crushingly embarrassing experience that I can reflect back on and still think was as mortifying as it appeared at the time. There have been little things here or there. There were times in my childhood that I thought I'd never be free of the weight of but looking back now I wonder what the big deal even was. Nothing that seemed soul crushingly embarrassing at the time has remained so. Does it count if it wasn't necessarily embarrassing at the time and just increasingly got worse?

Because I was married to a dumb asshole. And I married that dumbasshole in front of dozens of people who knew he was a dumbasshole and couldn't for the life of them get me to see it and he turned into an even bigger dumbasshole than even any of them could have predicted.

And I think about it with the complicated lenses of present me and it is fucking mortifying how naive I was and God all of it is just so goddamn sad.

I married someone who wasn't even an adult yet. For that matter neither was I. We weren't even 25 when we got together and moved in together. We weren't even 25 when we got married a year later. I had a kid at 25. With that dumbasshole. And instead of growing up together, he just seemed to constantly reverse. Every step forward he might make would come crashing to a halt then he backpedaled. He lied. About everything all the time. And when he got caught I was the bad guy for accusing him. He spent money like he actually had the ability to keep a full time job. He refused to learn how to do even the easiest of tasks and once just before I found out I was pregnant he let his still teenaged best friend pull him around the yard with the lawnmower and ended up in the emergency room. He gaslit me and punched holes in things. He drank too much too often He cheated at the end. It was so many things that left me looking like an absolute fool.

And the worst is when I tried talking to my friends or my mom, it was "well told you so" from them and "you expect too much out of men" from her. Maybe I do but I don't think that means stick with someone that makes me hate myself.

We split and he put every woman he ever dated above my kid for years. He wouldn't pay child support. He left me all the bills then begged me for a place to stay with one of his girlfriends or they'd be homeless but wouldn't pay rent and left me sitting with her many nights while he went out cheating on her so I had to be the one to comfort my ex's newbie. He constantly stole money out of my checking account and laughed about it to our friends who laughed at me with him especially when he'd insist I was just the crazy ex who'd die alone. He has a kid with one of these women that he's never seen. He's never paid her a dime. And then he knocked someone up who demanded he marry her or not see his kid again so he did and for a few years he really gave it a half hearted effort. He had kid after kid with this woman that he admitted in private he couldn't stand. He asked me to give her makeup tips. And fashion advice. He let her treat my kid like shit and they both made him uncomfortable with the way they talked about him. He didn't even have so much as a toothbrush at their house and when he eventually asked to not be treated that way and to have things there like he was part of their family too, they stopped speaking to him. Right after he came out of the closet and endured many a gay joke and being called princess all the time.

He hasn't spoken to his own kid in years. He missed every single bit of his own child's teens because he's a dumbasshole and I just keep being increasingly mortified that I was ever so fucking stupid.

Forever, every single time I hear the name Erik, I'm going to be embarrassed. But Im absolutely over the moon about the fact that he ended up with the life he deserves stuck with someone he doesn't like with kids he didn't plan on and absolutely fucking miserable. Good job, buddy. Karma got you.

_________________________________

Baking In A Tornado https://www.BakingInATornado.com

What TF Sarah https://crazymamallama.blogspot.com

Part-time Working Hockey Mom https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch/

On the Border https://dlt-lifeontheranch.blogspot.com/

But, Above All Else, He Is A Reliable Narrator

Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This month 2 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts.

My prompt: If you could just blink your eyes, right now, and be anywhere, where would you be?

It was submitted by: https://www.bakinginatornado.com

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"and...well...if she had known the outcome of that fateful balmy, southern afternoon, she might have allowed herself that one last slice of banana bread. After all, what could it hurt? But as it stood, she would end up wishing she could blink her eyes and be anywhere else on a terribly empty stomach. Or so the contents of her stomach would later tell us."

I was just brushing my teeth, man. That was it. I was brushing my teeth when I heard Keith Morrison--YES THAT KEITH MORRISON OF DATELINE AND MURDER FAME--narrating my day. Who else could get away with remarks so closely balanced on the border between rather morbid and nightmarishly macabre? It's that damn voice. Keith Morrison lulls us into accepting this elderly distinguished gent in his little blazers while black eyeliner, sleeping in a coffin, and teased hair goth are at his very core. The man has The Cure running in his veins. He looks like the nice neighbor who waters his flowers every morning at 7 am and gives out full size bars at Halloween but sounds like a man in spikes and doom boots who drives a hearse to work. Vincent Price in soul and dapper, gentle Grandpa in form. And now I could hear him discussing every step of my day.

When I was choosing what I might wear that day he talked about very weird details of my childhood. My mom apparently said I loved catching bugs and studying them, but I'm pretty sure that was only 2 weeks in the summer between 2nd and 3rd grade. My dad called me the light of his life which is rich considering just last year he asked me why I had to make him look bad with all his friends when I got a tattoo of Benson from Regular Show in that old Burt Reynolds Playgirl pose. But listen that thing was amazing. Either way I was the queer Black Sheep™ of the family, and my brother was definitely the golden child, so this all from my dad came as news to me. I mean, at some points I found myself listening in like I'd done with true crime podcasts over and again including the one with audio of old datelines...it couldn't be about me but it was. The details were just enough for me to recognize the truth while also wondering what the fuck these people who criticized and hurt and bullied thought they were up to talking about me like this. I could hear Keith talking about my best friend while I made my lunch for the day and got everything together for work and wouldn't you know this bitch I hadn't talked to since school after she called me fat and ugly and weird pushed me down and made me break my thumb was CRYING. crying! I was completely unaware I was so important in her life considering we hadn't talked for like 20 years.

Fucking people.

And then I think maybe the coffee hit and I realized either I had completely lost touch with reality and I needed to see someone or I was about to get murdered. And I really needed to figure that out urgently because I did absolutely not want to blink and wish I was anywhere else but there on an empty stomach later that afternoon as Keith, yes we're on a first name basis now, had so described.

I went back at the last minute and ate 2 slices of banana bread. Fuck fate. Or, well, fuck dateline. Same difference here really. And it was the best banana bread I've ever made.

So I'm here at work. No one can here Keith narrating my life story. But apparently I'm also not acting weird enough for anyone to be concerned, so it must not be a hallucination entirely? I don't know. Maybe it's Keith's calming voice keeping me straight. Would people be reacting to me differently if this was like Nancy Grace or those loud assholes from Last Podcast on the Left? It makes good sense that my brain would pick Keith for a hallucination though you know? But hallucinations generally aren't logical choices right? I dont know. I just know that Keith keeps saying I don't know that this is my last day at work and wouldn't I, if I knew, want to blink my eyes and wish myself anywhere else. And I mean yes but that's not helpful really since I now know this might be my last day on earth, and I can't actually blink my eyes and wish myself anywhere but here. It's like rubbing rock salt in a very open wound, Keith.

The end of the work day is coming up and since apparently I never make it back home to the banana bread I wasn't supposed to eat, whatever happens must be happening soon. I had no plans but going straight home once I clock out here. So I don't know. Do I leave? Do I stay and try to circumvent this, this thing ....my murder?

If Im honest I think if I actually could blink my eyes and wish myself anywhere else I'd just want to go hang out with my little sister and watch golden girls...but what if that's what I'm supposed to do and then we both die? So what I'm gonna do instead is hang out here at work. I know the night janitor. He's a pretty nice guy, and he said he wouldn't mind if I just stayed. He even said he had a cot down in the basement I could use if I wanted to go down there later, so that's what I'm going to do. That'll probably be fine, right?

Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts. Sit back, grab a cup, and check them all out. See you there:

Baking In A Tornado https://www.BakingInATornado.com

Climaxed https://climaxedtheblog.blogspot.com

Magic All Around

Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This month 3 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts. 

My “Secret Subject” is:

Do you believe in magic?

It was submitted by: https://www.bakinginatornado.comI

___________________

 I believe in the magic we make and in the magic of living every day in a world where I can teach cats how to fist bump and gaze at the moon and watch a bee stirring among the flowering trees I planted in my front yard years ago.

There's magic in your brain chemistry changing because you share time and space with a particularly special human who isn't that particularly special to most other people. Magic happens every time I take a phone call from someone who has been in prison for 20+ years but is still able to laugh with me and at me for 15 minutes.

The pagentry in professional wrestling is a kind of magic. People waking up every day in this country and still choosing to loudly be who they are is magic.

Bob's Burgers is magic. Hearing a song that makes you time travel in the first 2 seconds? Absolutely magic.

Catching sight of dew drops clinging to a spiderweb in the stillness of those moments just before sunrise is so magical it hurts especially when the early rays beam off every tiny droplet.

Mr. Rogers was magic. Making someone smile using a well-practiced illusion is magic but so is making an orangutan at the zoo or a dog from a shelter freak out over a badly performed one.

Growing babies for 9 months who come out with all their teeth stuffed in their skulls? Magic. Cats who eat jellybeans but not turkey are extra special magic. The bond you can have with a tiny creature you dragged in from the side of the road who doesn't even speak or understand most of your language is the strangest magic especially when that creature absolutely hated everything in existence and now suddenly likes to curl around your lap 5 times before settling in and demanding attention.

Friendships that form over instantaneous messages that fly through the ether are magic and even more magical when you know every one of that person's good days and bad and their trauma and their biggest fears but you haven't even seen each other face to face.

Magic is everywhere you look. It's everywhere you exist. Living and breathing and fighting for a better world is all magic. I don't think magic requires the fantastical or spells or witching or wizardry. Every moment is magic if you're willing to see it. Every atom. Every particle. Every breath and photo and written word. We're surrounded every second of every day by all the magic we could ever need.

But it would definitely be nice if someone could actually pull money out of my ear. I need a new tattoo.

______________________________

Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts. Sit back, grab a cup, and check them all out. See you there:

Baking In A Tornado https://www.BakingInATornado.com

Climaxed https://climaxedtheblog.blogspot.com

The Diary of an Alzheimer’s Caregiver https://thediaryofanalzheimerscaregiver.com/blog

Will She Be Mine?

Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This month 3 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts. 

My “Secret Subject” is:

How did you meet your partner? Tell us your love story.

It was submitted by: https://thediaryofanalzheimerscaregiver.com/blog

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The following is a bit of a short story obviously. Well I'll guess you'll see what I mean about obviously. My actual for real romantic/sex life is just one of those things I like to keep just for me. 

.

.

.

I met the love of my life at work, ok?

It's a bit of a cliche meet cute that Hallmark has overdone a million times to meet your soul mate at work, but this one might be a little.... different. Hallmark probably isn't telling this story any time soon unless they start making Halloween themed movies. Perhaps a little horror comedy with a love angle...

She wasn't a coworker. And I mean I don't think she actually qualifies as a client either since she wasn't the paying party or anything. It's complicated.

Well that's probably a little understated for reality if I'm being honest but I just never figured I'd feel this way about someone and the circumstances just didn't bother me.

I'm just gonna say it.

I'm a necromancer.

There. It's out of the way now. I'm a necromancer. I don't exactly advertise it or anything. I feel like it's one of those abilities that would send us right back into Salem Witch Trials territory, but the right people know. Most of my work comes from attorneys looking to resolve death issues. I can raise someone for an hour with little effort, make 5000 bucks, and their families get a little closure. Did they leave a will? What did they want done with their estate? And occasionally, how the hell did this happen? Answers from a reanimated corpse are nowhere near being accepted as evidence in court, but with the family's blessing I've been able to at least point the cops in a direction...if the person knew and understood what happened. And I've definitely mended some broken hearts left to handle the unanswered questions after grief. I've been worked with therapists to do some final family therapy sessions. I've worked pro bono a few times for families who didn't have the privilege of having 5000 bucks to see their mom one more time or whatever but for the most part the business was pretty steady and I do ok. Some of my peers take dirtier jobs for bigger bucks like scientific research and corporate espionage or whatever but I just couldn't take that kind of money. Absolutely not my vibe. It's already hard enough being with people who have to say goodbye one more time or who point the finger for their death at someone in the family and everyone coming to terms with a new horror. I had to have a conscience about it, you know?

Which is what gets me about meeting Cecilia.... Like, it must have been fate, right? This wasn't the kind of case I normally take. I don't particularly like working for companies, but a friend of a friend got in touch and needed to ask a former employee some questions about ongoing projects. It seemed harmless enough, easy money. They'd said a half hour tops just to get a few key details down after the sudden death of the lead on these projects. Easy money. I wouldn't even be tired after that kind of time. I was used to a couple hours at least for family to get in their goodbyes which tended to make me a little worn out. I tried not to do more than a couple jobs a week. So a half hour? For a few questions? For the 4 grand they offered? Fuck. Why wouldn't I take it?

But that's not what happened.

I went to the address provided, met my contact, Tom, and raised Cecilia easy enough. A lot of times with older deaths, it takes time to work through the confusion they feel being back and she'd been gone a couple months. That really should have been the first red flag because why would they sit that long on work projects without answers? Then she seemed to instantly recognize Tom. She was absolutely pissed which I took as the confused emotions of the newly raised, but she started immediately cussing him out. They did, actually, work together, but he was obsessed with her and his stalking, from what I gathered from her 10 minutes of ranting, was the reason she'd run off the road that night trying to lose him. And she didn't give a shit for the apology and he better be glad the cops never gave a shit the million times she reported him. And that yes she knew he was only "apologizing" to find out how much hot water he might be in so he'd be real fucking lucky if she didn't find a way to haunt him until he ran to the cops himself to confess. 

He ran off in a huff, probably pissing himself on the way, and both of us immediately started laughing. As it died off, we looked at each other, and I felt like my entire body had erupted into butterflies. The mouth on that girl... Get your mind out of the gutter. I mean, she destroyed that man. The vocabulary, the strength, the take no bullshit attitude and in such a beautiful (and yes dead) package. I was smitten, and by the look on her face I knew she was at least interested. Gayyyyy.

I noticed her face fall at the realization that she was very limited on time now and would likely never see me again. She looked, not to toot my own horn here, absolutely devastated. So I told her I didn't mean to be presumptuous but I could see she wasn't ready to go back and like I never do this but could I keep her company for a little while longer. The smile, oh her smile... We talked and talked and flirted and oh boy was I absolutely devastatingly charmed by her. I couldn't get enough and almost passed out from the sheer exhaustion of keeping her animated. Her spirit was so strong though that I could be with her, present, and still keep that lifeline. I felt the most powerful I'd ever been all because of her.

I don't know where this is going because I don't know how to make it work, but I do know I love her. We've been doing our little cemetery dates sometimes 2 or 3 times a week for a year now. It's our anniversary tonight, in fact, and we have a big date planned--a zombie movie marathon for the dark comedy of it all--and I can't wait. I don't want a life without her. She's insisted I find a live girl and live out my greatest lesbian dreams, but how could I ever forget the way she makes me feel? It's more than love, and I swear I'm getting stronger. I can keep her longer. I can raise other people easier.

But I can't keep her forever.

Our relationship is pretty limited physically. I don't really raise the bodies, you see. That's not possible. I know what all the movies and books said, but they're simply not accurate. What I do is more like a hologram. It just helps to be near the body to do it well with as little confusion and emotional deregulation as possible. So there's not a lot going on here. I used to think that the physical side of things was as important as the love part. Sex is a big part of my life. Or was anyway. Now I'm not so sure I wouldn't be willing to make due somehow.

We're coming up on the anniversary of our first meeting, and I think I just might ask that girl to marry me.

Leave it to me with my past with both men and women to make my life the most complicated and painful (and beautiful) I've ever experienced.Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts. Sit back, grab a cup, and check them all out. See you there:



Baking In A Tornado https://www.BakingInATornado.com

Climaxed https://climaxedtheblog.blogspot.com

The Diary of an Alzheimer’s Caregiver https://thediaryofanalzheimerscaregiver.com/blog

76

Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This month 3 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts. Your “Secret Subject” is:

Tell us about a number that has special meaning for you.

It was submitted by: https://www.bakinginatornado.com

____________________

I don't think I have any particular sort of answer for this. I cherish my kid's birthday for example but the numbers themselves aren't important and I'm not really superstitious or believe in things like this so enjoy some fiction instead! But I will say today would have been my dad's birthday.
76.

Selma had found a note stuffed into her locker at work that had her name at the top. And the number 76. "76. It will change everything." That's it. That was the whole of it.

She didn't recognize the handwriting. It wasn't one of her friends playing a joke mostly because she didn't have friends. And no one at work had the energy for some kind of long con prank like this. They were all tired from mandatory double shifts at the mental hospital where she cleaned rooms and gave out medicine and changed diapers or whatever else was needed that day. No one got out of double shifts not lately anyway. None of them had time to be friends or mean girl each other with pranks. So she'd forgotten about it.

And then while doomscrolling on TikTok she saw a contest for a new laptop which she sorely needed if she was ever going to go back to school. It was pick a number style. So she chose "76" on a whim...and won. Her first time winning anything in her entire life, and it had actually been sent to her too! No scams. Not this time at least.

Then she found a bundle of money in the grocery store parking lot. No one was parked near her, so she counted it. $76 exactly...which also ended up being her total in the store when she wasn't even sure when she pulled into her spot how she was going to afford food and rent. The double shifts were barely helping since the rent increase. And inflation. And having to take her car Fred to the vet to have a tooth removed.

She started seeing 76 everywhere she looked. It was written in graffiti. She'd seen a patient scrawling it into his journal. She saw it on street signs and a mile marker she passed on the way to work, and on the bus route that took her downtown when she didn't want to have to fight for parking. The hostess at her favorite taco spot had a pin that had 76 on it. Selma asked and the girl had only shrugged and smiled like Selma should know already.

It wasn't even happening naturally anymore. Selma started seeking it out. She'd turn to page 76 of a book on her shelf and look for meaning in the words. She played lotto games and online giveaways using the number and variations of it to guide her responses. She would take 76 steps to determine where she would sit in the movie theater or where to stop to eat in the food court at the mall or even, once, at a party she was invited to by an old friend to determine who to strike up a conversation with next which was really fucking hard to do in a small apartment and everyone treated her like she was crazy.

But she wasn't? Was she?

Ever since she got the letter 76 was everywhere and she thought her luck was changing. So what if she got a parking ticket for 76 dollars or woke up in her apartment to find 76 post it notes with 76 written on them that she knew she hadn't written. So what if she saw flies in the shape of 76 crawling on her car the other night.

Everything else was good. Good-ish anyway.

It didn't matter that she couldn't actually find the letter anymore did it? The number was still everywhere. She was winning. She won that laptop!

Did it really change her stroke of good luck if the woman in the apartment 3 floors abover hers had been stabbed by her ex 76 times or that 76 people died in that blizzard?

Did it really matter if she could see 76 everywhere and could hear people whispering it? Wasn't that fate's way of giving her a sign she was on the right track?

The answer to everything she had ever needed to ask was 76. She could see it all now so clearly. 76. 76. 76. It was everything everywhere all at once.

76.

She could hear them.

76.
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Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts. Sit back, grab a cup, and check them all out. See you there:



Baking In A Tornado https://www.BakingInATornado.com

Climaxed https://climaxedtheblog.blogspot.com

The Diary of an Alzheimer’s Caregiver https://thediaryofanalzheimerscaregiver.com/blog

You Got Jokes?

Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This month 4 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts. 

My “Secret Subject” is:

Rescuer in need

It was submitted by: https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch/

I can't even blame Reddit for this idea

_______________________

The headline of the craigslist job ad simply said Rescuer in Need. Vanna read it, assumed it was about a wildlife rescue which would kinda sorta be a dream job, and opened it up.

She could not have been more wrong.

But she still sent a text to the number listed.

Curiosity killed cats, but it also probably didn't do anything for the health and wellbeing of easily intrigued busybodies who watched too much true crime.

See, the ad didn't mention murder, but Vanna was certain she had stumbled on a serial killer's trap and wanted in on it. She wanted to be able to tell stories about being there and figuring him out and being the one to get evidence to take straight to the cops.

People say that true crime makes people too fearful and brainwashed with the idea of stranger danger, but the people who said shit like that had never met Vanna. Sure she was prone to jumping to conclusions based on a little too much cynicism when it comes to her fellow humans, but she wasnt fearful so much as determined, and the combination was something to behold.

The ad read: I have recently inherited a large plot of land in this area. Living out of state makes it difficult to do some of the necessary work it needs to make it habitable again. It needs rescuing from years of neglect to be restored to its former glory. Pay scale can be discussed based on personal skills. Permanent caretaker role is a possibility. There's also a camper on the property that can be used for a place to crash rent free. Text INFO to 57968 for more.

It was incredibly sketchy and one of those weird too good to be true job opportunities. Someone down on their luck couldn't possibly pass it up. She'd listened to too many podcasts about people answering similar ads who were never seen again going back as far as at least the late 19th century with Belle Gunness.

Less than a minute after hitting send, Vanna had a reply.

"Go to Canyon St Park and send photo. Wait there for more."

She waited. She thought maybe something else would come through, but half an hour later she gave up on that. She text "INFO" to the number again and got the same response. She fretted a bit. This was every possible red flag... But of course her curiosity was at an all time high and her Spidey senses were tingling, so she grabbed her pepper spray, a couple of self defense key chains, her very illegal sword cane, an extremely loud air horn, a Kubotan, and a taser dropping the smaller items into her bag. You couldn't be too careful. Ok so maybe a gun would be better but she wasn't too great at things that require that kind of accuracy with shaky hands and bad eyesight.

She arrived, but the few people there took no interest in here and didn't really seem out of place. She found a small bench in the middle and sat down for her photo. As soon as she sent it, she received another text instructing her to drive to the McDonald's on 5th Street and send a receipt showing a McNuggets Happy Meal and large fry. It felt strange. She text "why" but after awhile she gave up on getting a reply and went on. She couldn't actually give up now. It had only gotten weirder.

It just kept going like that.

All day.

One task after another. Go here, do this, send a pic. Go here, find this market, take and send a pic. She'd been at this for hours when she finally sat in her car in a Walmart parking lot after finding some condoms to take a picture of and cried. It was exhausting and stressful and she was just done. She didn't know why she always did stupid shit like this. Who in their right mind would do things like this if not her?

Someone knocked on her window and made her jump. She screamed. They laughed.

Are you ok? they asked.

I'd be better if you'd leave me alone, she said.

Suddenly there were more people. And a camera with a flash. Questions were shouted at her asking her name and what she'd been doing all day but she was so confused and tired she struggled and stuttered through answers still crying.

The voices still laughed.

Her phone dinged letting her know she had another text message. It dinged more and more. Each one linked to a TikTok. Of her. Doing the tasks she'd been given all day and the cameraman laughing and making fun of her body, her walk, her determination... The beginning video suggested they were looking for a lazy liberal who would easily fall for a too good to be true offer and give up on the first task. From the looks of it most people hadn't given one iota of a shit about this little project (a bullshit one that proved absolutely nothing) until she'd kept going all day while they made up new and increasingly embarrassing tasks, and they'd still made fun of her for it. There were thousands and thousands of views on these already and they kept getting higher as she checked. Her body felt hot. The rage was suddenly so strong she vibrated. Her heart raced with the absolute and total embarrassment. But she was flying on the anger.

Theyd followed her. Stalked her. Videoed her without consent and blasted her online over and over all fucking day, and they still had the gall to stand here waiting on her to exit the car and get more footage? Well how could she refuse?

She grabbed her bag... Sure she didn't have a gun packed in it but she was about to have a little fun.

___________________

Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts. Sit back, grab a cup, and check them all out. See you there:

Baking In A Tornado https://www.BakingInATornado.com

The Diary of an Alzheimer’s Caregiver https://thediaryofanalzheimerscaregiver.com/blog

Part-time Working Hockey Mom https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch/

The Deal

Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This month 4 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts. 

My “Secret Subject” is: If you could be taught any instrument, take (free) lessons, really learn to understand the instrument and how to play it, which instrument would you choose?

It was submitted by: https://www.bakinginatornado.com

_________________________

***A piece of fiction but I think or hope it still counts as an answer. The devil wears a suit and tie to hear Colter wall tell it, and I might be willing to make the deal. I don't have time for lessons. ***

The man appeared before her seemingly out of nowhere. He sort of loomed over her as she sat on the front porch of her granny's old house, fog circling behind him.
He didn't belong here. That much was obvious.

She shivered as the coyotes howled all around. Normal for this place at this time of day but still unsettling as the stranger's glare seemed to stare into every part of her.

He was well dressed. A deeply purple crushed velvet jacket, black shirt and pants... A tie with a design she couldn't quite make out unless she got a little closer--she did need a new glasses prescription after all--and she damn sure wasn't getting closer.

As her mouth opened to call for granny, he put a finger to his lips and handed her (where did it even come from?) a curly maple open back banjo with a black walnut peg head, gold pick-ups, and a bat themed inlay. She sat with her mouth open. She'd dreamed of this very banjo so often sitting on this porch on hot summer nights and barely cool winter ones wishing like hell she could play right along with the crickets and frogs and all the noises coming from the woods behind the house or the swamp off to the left that she knew better than to check out. No, sir, she wanted to live these days.

Reality snapped back like a rubber band stretched almost too far nearly knocking the breath out of her. Her stomach dropped as she handed it back.

"It's mighty pretty, but you ain't tricking me with just a banjo."

His eyes burned brighter for a moment before a smile appeared on his face as suddenly as he'd appeared in the yard then he threw his head back laughter. Not a single hair fell out of place, and the fog seemed to dance on the sound.

"Perhaps not. But I could possibly offer you the skills to pull you out of this...shanty. all of you."

"Keep talking."

"In essence, my child, if you sign your eternal soul over to me, I will then empower you with abilities on this instrument--and only this one unless you want to barter further--that no other mortal possesses. What you do with that talent is then up to you."

She pushed her hair out of her face. It was long and a bit more than tangled. Dirty blonde. A fashionable sort of mullet. A queer sort of mullet. Her jeans were disintegrating and her bare feet were covered in dust and dirt. Gnats hovered around her face. It was hot. Beyond hot. They barely had running water and electricity regularly so ac was a luxury she hadn't known. It was a good day when rain hit and cooled off the tin roof.

Heavy clouds rushed in from the horizon like they'd been able to read her mind.

"So let me get this straight. I give my soul for eternity and I get this banjo and the skills to play only this banjo which I'm assuming ISN'T indestructible with no guarantee anyone might ever discover me..."

"Surely you have heard of one of my greatest inventions TikTok, child."

"We look like we get much internet out here, sir?"

"The offer stands. What you do with the gift after we make our deal is your own responsibility."

"Well, I reckon I might be interested but here's the thing... You might have to fight for it."

"...I... what do you mean fight for it? Fight what exactly?"

"Oh I sold it to some gator god in the swamp the other day for a good day of fishin'. We ain't had nothing to eat for 2 days by that point. So I made the deal and we had a mess of fish to last until the food stamps came in at least."

"You... You sold your soul for a...what is a mess of fish?"

"You know a good catch. A whole mess of fish. I thought you knew everything."

"And to who?"

"Oh I don't know. it was some half gator man that I saw while I was fishin.' Cajun accent? Straw hat? Gator head and big muscly body? He had to be some kind of god cuz ain't no regular folk walking around barefoot out there in just a little, she motioned around her waist, "skirt thing."

"Did you get paperwork that I may look at?"

"Mister, you think I got paperwork from a gator man barefoot in the swamp? Which one of us looks like we might be carryin' a pen?"

His face flamed red. His eyes turned darker with the clouds above. Thunder crashed so loudly the porch rattled. She knew if lightening hit she'd probably see that gatorman and all his teeth standing on the edge of the swamp, but something must have been looking out for her right then because the sky stayed dark.

"Listen, mister, you ain't got to get all mad at me because someone beat you to the punch here. If'n you want to still do the deal you're gonna have to take it up with that guy."

He snatched the banjo back from her, but she wasn't reacting the way he'd hope. Life had been too hard. Having a dream snatched from her hands was a regular occurence. Why would she ever care about a banjo as much as the other hurts. He began to fade and she heard in her own head, "I'll be back. Have a pen."

________________________________

Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts. Sit back, grab a cup, and check them all out. See you there:


Baking In A Tornado https://www.BakingInATornado.com

The Diary of an Alzheimer’s Caregiver https://thediaryofanalzheimerscaregiver.com/blog

Part-time Working Hockey Mom https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch/

Molotovs > Fireworks

Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This month 4 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts. 

My “Secret Subject” is:

How do you celebrate the 4th of July?

It was submitted by: https://thediaryofanalzheimerscaregiver.com/blog.html/

_________________

I've answered this question before in a way, but that time I made it more or less about hating fireworks and having trauma related to my dad getting drunk and my parents fighting every holiday and especially the 4th because it's my mom's birthday. And that still remains true. Im not really big on the holiday at the best of times..

But I'll be honest here, what the fuck is there to celebrate anyway? Fascism? Loss of rights? Being terrified to be an out queer person for the first time in a fucking long time? No healthcare? Ignoring a pandemic? Essentially sending people to work in a pandemic to keep the capitalism train moving and then also removing access to free tests and vaccines? A president who won't even say the word abortion or at least didn't for his first 2 years in office much less have a real plan to address it? A president who, on the way roe was overturned and knowing it was coming like we all did, had plans to appoint a lifetime federal judge position to an extreme antiabortion Republican? A country that will make Juneteenth a federal holiday but won't let people talk about the implications of racism on this country's foundation and its presence in our system to children in history classes? A country who will give more rights to guns than people? A country that cares about the lives of babies unless they're shot to death in school classrooms? A country that will make every excuse possible for a police to kill an unarmed person especially ESPECIALLY if they're a person of color?

I guess it would be a lot easier to celebrate the birth of this nation if it wasnt so hard for those of us who live here and have been othered in it. If it didn't carry a risk of discrimination and death just for looking or being different. If it didn't mean old fucking losers with too much power didn't feel entitled to keep the poor begging for scraps and the othered to die with nothing. It would be so much easier to pop off some fireworks if Democrats didn't somehow hinge their 50 years of failures on Bernie once again or Susan Sarandon or those of us who ever vocally criticize one of their politicians....you know the same party that paid for ads for an NRA A-rated, pro life democrat in Texas in no danger of losing their seat the day after children were gunned down in a school while the police (which Democrats gladly keep over funding) stood by in the same fucking state.

Fuck this country. There's nothing here to celebrate.

Whenever this country slides further into fascism, so many people always share that quote that says "don't fall into despair. Let this radicalize you." But somehow that means vote for the same people who never gave a shit about you to begin with and share bullshit meaningless memes. I'm sorry but in an oligarchy, voting is never a radical act. It's the very least you could possibly do.

Celebrate what?

A country still deeply in the throws of Satanic Panic and antisemitism? That still falls for conspiracies build on the foundation of The Protocols of the Elders of Zion which we know was made up entirely to excuse antisemitism? A country so caught up in fear, exploitation, and the art of the grift that a man could spiral so far down the rabbit whole in a couple months that he became willing to kill his own children with a spearfishing gun? That could look his 10 month old in the face and think that was the best he could do for that child? 

A leftist spectrum that thinks making a Facebook profile named Lenin Bussy Marx and sharing low quality memes is praxis? The ones who have 392 comment threads on Twitter arguing about what a 200 years dead white dude would think about a grifting YouTuber who made millions passing off propaganda about the Syrian civil war? The same leftists who think any country that isn't the U.S. is fine and good no matter what they're doing to their own people?

And the worst thing of all is that we aren't actively attempting to address ANY of it. 

Will I celebrate? Do I?

No thanks. I'll be sleeping in and watching Scooby Doo and everything else can go fuck itself.

____________

Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts. Sit back, grab a cup, and check them all out. See you there:

Baking In A Tornado https://www.BakingInATornado.com

The Diary of an Alzheimer’s Caregiver https://thediaryofanalzheimerscaregiver.com/blog.html/

Part-time Working Hockey Mom https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch/

Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This month 5 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts.

My “Secret Subject” is:

Would you rather be the sand castle or the wave?

It was submitted by: https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch/ 

_________________________________________

 ...I'm not a philosopher.

Like I don't have enough time ony hands to really wonder what it all means or if life has a purpose or the existential threads of my existence. To be perfectly honest, I really don't even think about where this world came from or what's in space. The closest I get to wanting to solve a puzzle is maybe how the Somerton man died or what happened to Brandon Lawson or who the zodiac killer is. I don't really ever think about the bigger why are we here kind of picture, and at times I'm not even thinking  beyond the day I'm living. Every day life keeps me pondering enough. Why do people always blame a mysterious them? How do cults work? Why do we always fall for scams? How can we fix the many things that are broken? Why does one or my cats keep pooping in the sink drain? how the fuck am I going to make it through the day when I just used all my energy shampooing muddy dog prints off my carpet? When you're thinking about things that are not necessarily in your control but close I think the bigger things that might not ever have an answer seem to sink into the background.

I've written a lot of people in prison over the last 15ish or so years. I've definitely had my run ins with philosophical questions because of it. These are people who do have time, nothing but sometimes, and access to a library always full of philosophers if nothing else, and an aching need to ponder what it might all mean now that life takes the form of a highly controlled and caged environment. The big picture perhaps becomes essential to sanity because the everyday things are out of their hands and off their radar if they want to stay afloat. And I get that, but god does it grate on my nerves

I have to say even with the years of philosophy and the questions and the conversations and, well it's philosophy so... definitely some arguments, I don't really know how to approach this idea. The wave or the sandcastle? I don't care. I just want to be able to afford food this month. Do I want to be a thing shaped by human direction or by the moon? Do I want to be make the most of my environment and let it destroy me just to rise again or do I want to be the thing that shapes the environment? I don't think there's really an answer here that says anything about me or about my worldview or about existence because there are pros and cons to each way or looking at these ideas and these questions and the fascinating thing about being a human is that we can look at sandcastles and waves and take the best parts of those ideas while discarding whatever doesn't serve us, right? We don't have to have those kinds of metaphorical limits and if we don't want to be any parts of either one, then we don't have to do that either. Ask me about being a queer atheist anarchist in the rural South who likes antitheistic satanism and goes to a Christian church every week that rolls and has good conversations with the pastor who loves and accepts all those things--the parts of these things that serve me work together in a way that has made me a much better person than I would be otherwise. Things have changed a lot for me in the time since I embraced the church and anarchism, and I feel like I've definitely grown. I don't have to be limited by and either/or scenario. Ask me why I chose to write people in prison or why I homeschool my kid. Ask me how I found peace with my childhood. Every part of who I am is cutting out the parts of things and feelings and beliefs that don't serve me anymore and embracing the good bits that do. It's been work, but it's been worth it, and I ultimately understand the burning questions I do have all the more because of the journey. I don't have to choose any one thing...

Wave, sandcastle, hermit crab, dried out piece of driftwood, dunes, a horse running on the beach... I'm all of it.

_______________________

Baking In A Tornado https://www.BakingInATornado.com

The Diary of an Alzheimer’s Caregiver https://thediaryofanalzheimerscaregiver.com/blog.html/

What TF Sarah https://crazymamallama.blogspot.com

Part-time Working Hockey Mom https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch/

Cluttered But Happy

Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This month 5 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts. 

My “Secret Subject” is:

Would you be able to live in a tiny house with very little stuff?

It was submitted by: https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch/ 

These Damn Animals

Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This month 4 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts. 

My “Secret Subject” is:

Do you have pets? Tell us about them or if not what kind of pet do you would you like to have someday?

It was submitted by: https://thediaryofanalzheimerscaregiver.com/blog.html/

Hold onto your butts. There's cuteness incoming
___________________

I have what some might call "too many" pets actually. I live in a very rural area without a lot of resources besides an overcrowded shelter, so I've taken in a few too many mouths to feed over the years not even limited to just the normal pets. I even cared for an owl temporarily while it healed. I'm not Snow White or anything but if an animal is in need I'll find a way to help. Just ask me why I'm taking care of a dog that got beat up in my yard recently. It's a lot of work. I have had most of these guys since before I got sick with chronic fatigue syndrome, and I try to limit what I take in to what I know I can handle now, but it's still a lot of work. Dogs get meds twice a day and medicated baths. The beat up dog is getting meds 3 times a day and bandage changes once a day and special food. I have two nearly blind cats I have to dose with CBD oil at the very least. Other cats that need daily allergy meds. One cat has asthma. And they all need one on one attention which is difficult to always fit in my day when I'm cleaning up their messes, writing people in prison, and homeschooling a teenager. 

I don't know what it's like to not be too busy to paint for fun until the weekend when I stay up later.

But they also bring a lot of balance to my life and force me to keep going. I don't have a choice but to get up and take care of them. I have often kept going even when I didn't really have any appetite for life because who else will give them their medicine. I have laughed until I cried at some bozo thing the dog did or marveled at a cat eating a jelly bean but refusing turkey. There's no predictable day no matter how monotonous your routine can be when you have a houseful of pets. Hell, I don't think it's too routine even with one pet. Each one brings unpredictable chaos to your life right along with their lazy naps. The world is worth it when you get to live with their little shenanigans and their unconditional love. There's not a day that goes by that some furred asshole doesn't make up for every shithead thing they somehow managed to do earlier. And when I sat shithead thing I mean, I've accidentally cooked cat pee because they pissed on my stove and I didn't realize until too late. I have to have 2 child locks on the fridge and 2 on the freezer. The amount of plastic that has been eaten in this house... My dog stepped in poop the other day then tracked it inside all over the floor. One of them peed in my shower cap once and I didn't find out until I put the son of a bitch on my head. Nothing is sacred. My trash can is booby trapped and so is the washing machine. And the stove now. And a corner of a rug. Oh and a shelf. The amount of absolute fuckery they get up to feels like a three stooges movie except I'm the only butt of the joke. And yet they still manage to make up for all of that and that's priceless. There is no value I could place on my time that they don't outdo over and over.

So without further ado, here are some pics of the asshole crew.

Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts. Sit back, grab a cup, and check them all out. See you there:



Baking In A Tornado https://www.BakingInATornado.com

The Diary of an Alzheimer’s Caregiver https://thediaryofanalzheimerscaregiver.com/blog.html/

Part-time Working Hockey Mom https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch/




What TF Sarah https://crazymamallama.blogspot.com/

Day After Day

Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This month 4 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts.

My “Secret Subject” is:

Do you have a sick ritual? Something you wear when you’re sick, a place you prefer to be and food or drink that makes you feel better?

It was submitted by: https://www.bakinginatornado.com 

Haunted Love

Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This month 5 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts.


My “Secret Subject” is:

How did you meet your other half? Or if not tell us a love story.

It was submitted by: https://thediaryofanalzheimerscaregiver.com/


There's a part of my life I like to keep just for me so please enjoy some fiction today! Thank you!

____________________________

I hadnt slept well in so long I'd lost count of the days--enough to keep going but not enough to keep myself from dissociating into daydreams every time I turned around. Get through making breakfast? Sure. Eat it before it got cold? Not a chance. As soon as I sat down I'd be staring off into space until my grits were lumpy as I was the day I met her.

"oh come on! This is ridiculous! How can you see me?!? Are we just not going to talk about this?"

I snapped out of my daydreaming. Did I really just hear that? That voice? Was I hallucinating?

"Don't pretend you can't hear me. I know you can. Answer the question."

She sounded real, but then again, I didn't know what a hallucination was supposed to sound like.

"Um...hello?" I risked. Holy shit I have to be really losing it. Was I actually dreaming right now? I had stopped being able to tell dream from reality at times, and maybe this was one of them?

"No. Over here!"

I looked around. Up. Down. Twirled and searched the entire room. I heard giggles while I peered out the window.

"Well I guess you actually can't see me then huh? You had me fooled, girl."

I was kinda getting weirded out and frustrated and curious all at once and afraid of my own pending insanity. I half sobbed, half laughed out, "what the fuck is going on????? Did I finally...I've lost it haven't I?" and then promptly burst into tears.

"Shit." I hear over the sobs. I thought I caught a blur of motion, a light orb...something less than solid and then I felt so warm like being wrapped in a blanket fresh from the dryer. And better like a friend had a stopped by armed with tea, fuzzy socks, weed and a white noise machine determined to help me relax and sleep. Taken care of, then. It's like in that moment everything was ok.

That's how I met Frannie, the ghost who lived in my house for the past 50ish years or so.

I know, I know. I didn't believe in ghosts either. I knew all the shows were fake and all that. I didn't go seeking out ghost stories. I just went on about my life insistent they very likely didn't exist, and if they did, I damn sure didn't want proof of it. So no I wouldn't buy that charming doll at the antique shop, and I damn sure wasn't picking up that old trunk someone left by the side of the road. Like I really, really didn't want to test the odds on that. I even bought a house I really thought has a relatively short history with just two owners to limit my odds!

And yet there I was in Frannie's warm embrace in the precipice of a mental breakdown from lack of sleep and not knowing if i was actually already in need of some grippy socks and a long stay at a facility.

"There, there. It's okay. You're ok."

I could almost feel pats on my shoulder. It felt like a milder version of the zap you get after rubbing your socks on the carpet and touching a doorknob. I certainly wasnt having tactile hallucinations right? I mean I was still ahead on my deadlines at work and the house was clean. My clothes were appropriate. I went shopping for a new vacuum the day before. I was ok like for real ok right? This wasn't in my head.

It wasn't.

"Don't take this the wrong way or whatever but what the fuck are you?"

I sense her hesitation despite not being able to see anything at all.

"Um... I don't know entirely. A ghost I guess?"

"Ghosts aren't real, dude. What's going on? Am I on some prank show?"

Oh great. Now she was the one crying. I could hear her. And I couldn't return the favor of the hug either and it was all my fault she was crying so then I started crying AGAIN.

I'M NOT EVEN A CRYER.

Things quietened down but I could tell she was still there. It's like she wanted me to know but she didn't know what to say.

"So you're a ghost?"

"I think."

"What does that even mean?"

"Well. I lived here a long time ago, and that's really all I remember. I know this house. I know it was mine, but it just keeps changing, and the people keep changing. I don't know. I'm just hear, but no one can see me. I really thought you could though. It seemed like you were always looking at me especially lately but...I guess not."

"Well I haven't been sleeping lat--"

"Yeah I noticed..."

"That's a little weird you know that, you know?"

"I'm a ghost."

"Ok. Point proven. But ok so I haven't slept. And I've just kind of been staring off into space most of the time I guess. I dont really know."

She started crying again. And I guess if no one had seen me in that long I'd probably cry too. But I could hear her which was new. Maybe it was the not sleeping. I haven't figured that part out...yet. I don't know if I ever will. I really don't know if I want to know. Would it break the spell or ruin it all to know? If I believe she's a ghost or don't believe, does it ruin it? If I investigate too hard, does she leave? It's been almost a year of having her around. It's been even longer of not sleeping. And I don't know what we have or don't have or what she is or isn't but I know I can't imagine my life without her. I mean, we're not pulling a Bev Crusher on Star Trek or anything with her ghost sex and all that (what were those writers thinking? Seriously?) but I love her. I love making her laugh and knowing when I get home she's there...fucked up because she has no choice but it is what it is. And for now at least, I'm going to love her for every minute we have together.


_______________________________

Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts. Sit back, grab a cup, and check them all out. See you there:



Baking In A Tornado https://www.BakingInATornado.com

The Diary of an Alzheimer’s Caregiver https://thediaryofanalzheimerscaregiver.com/

Part-time Working Hockey Mom https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch/

A ‘lil HooHaa https://hoohaa.com/

School's Out ForEVER

Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This month 4 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts. 

My “Secret Subject” is:

If you could have a college do-over (or first time experience), money is no object, what subject would you choose to study?

It was submitted by: https://Bakinginatornado.com 

I Got Old

Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This month 5 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts.

My “Secret Subject” is:

Today is my birthday. I turn 39. If you’ve turned 39, how did you celebrate the last year of your 30’s?

It was submitted by: https://crazymamallama.blogspot.com/

_________



Are people still celebrating birthdays in this panorama? This panini? This profusion of particulates?

I turned 40 this year, so I rang out the last year of my 30s sitting my ass at home like I have been since early 2020 which, you know, is fine. I like being at home. I don't like people much. I'm not into labels much but if the shoe fits I'm gonna wear that sumbitch, and I have to say introvert does fit. My happy place is home writing letters to the friends I've made in prison or painting or any other activity that involves me staying the right temperature and cozy in my house and unbothered.

My 30s were probably the best time of my life so far because I really learned to stop giving a fuck. Is it sad to be at home as much as I am? I'm sure someone somewhere thinks so but you know they can eat my entire fat ass if they make their opinion of my life my business. Otherwise they're perfectly welcome to think what they wanna think.

I wasn't with family much outside of who lives in my house because my 30s also taught me I don't have to put up with anyone's bullshit to keep the peace. And that's ok. I made new friends (yes mostly online) and learned so much. Seriously according to Spotify unwrapped I spent over 6500 minutes of my life listening to almost 100 episodes of Behind the Bastards podcast in 2021 and that's not even the only one I listen to. I found peace with endings--of relationships, of my 30s, of me not needing an eye cream.

I never expected to be this age so I'm certainly not going to be dragged into 40 kicking and screaming the way we're taught we should, do I spent my year being hopeful about my age--embracing it and being determined that my 40s are going to be even better than the decade before. I feel like I've grown more this past year than at any other time in my life perhaps.

Between churching it up with my atheist ass and embracing the big As without hesitancy (anarchism and abolitionist not adultery) Ive become a better person, a more empathetic and compassionate one. A healthier one. And I feel both terrified and optimistic about the future of society. I dont know that I could be here without the distance from certain hurts that only aging can bring.

But you'll have to pry my purple hair from my cold, dead hands because I'm not ready to embrace the grays yet. Just so we're clear.

_________

Baking In A Tornado https://www.BakingInATornado.com

Wandering Web Designer https://wanderingwebdesigner.com/blog

Climaxed https://climaxedtheblog.blogspot.com

What TF Sarah https://crazymamallama.blogspot.comPart-time Working Hockey Mom https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch/

Sometimes Comfort Sometimes Complicated

Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This month 5 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts.

My “Secret Subject” is:

What is your go-to comfort food and why?

It was submitted by: https://Bakinginatornado.com

_________________________________


Having a chronic illness that comes with a lot of gastrointestinal issues really changes the concept of comfort food. I don't think it's wrong to ask this question by any means, but I do want to point out that food is such a big part of culture and society that we tend to take it for granted that everyone has access to their comfort food or could eat it. And I'm glad to have an opportunity to talk about how poverty and disability have impacted by my relationship to food in negative ways.

I've had different comfort foods in my life related to where I was and what I had access to, but they've always been shaped by how poor I was at the time. When I was a kid, it was boiled peanuts. My dad often had access to farms through his welding work and a perk of that was getting some food to help us make it through the year. Peanuts are a huge crop here, so my dad would bring home whole bushes, and we'd sit outside in plastic dollar store chairs pickinf off the peanuts and eating raw ones until we got sick. And then peanuts would be in the freezer all year long for any time I felt down and needed a little salty nugget of comfort.

In my early teens, it was chicken and dumplings. My grandma made it often when we were kids, and it was one of my favorite things back then, but after my parents divorced, she'd make them every year for my birthday, and it always gave me a warm, full belly and a reminder of better times. But hers were always made from biscuits in a can, and while she fancied hers up, learning to make them that way taught me how to make them cheaply. I can't tell you how many times I made a pot of them myself (when I could still eat them) for a few bucks. Chicken broth, a little butter, and can biscuits can make a good ass meal for several days for a person or few. Add chicken and eggs can add money but also make it more filling. The point being it maintained its ability to give me a full, warm belly and a bit of comfort.

After I moved out on my own, I was making just over $5 an hour and trying to make pay all my bills. It was rough, and most of the time I didn't know how I was going to eat and took napkins from the bathroom at work to use for toilet paper, but I would be damned if I was going back home. I couldn't. So I ate mostly groceries my grandma gave me when her cabinets got too full and ramen. If I wanted to splurge for a little comfort though it was chips and salsa con queso. If I couldn't afford the whole jars I could still get a pretty cheap nachos lunchable. The first time I saw High Fidelity, I was sitting in the middle of my little apartment's living room with a jar of each and some baked tostitos scoops. I was so entranced with the movie I forgot they were there after awhile. It was pure bliss. If I was lucky, I'd also grab a pack of twizzlers. When I had nothing, sometimes it was the junk food that brought me comfort. Things I took for granted when I still lived at home made me feel like things might be ok.

French toast was a thing I loved to make when I finally got a raise for training I did for the job I had at the time. Whenever I needed some company and comfort because life had been (and still is) very fucking hard, I'd invite all my friends over for a french toast night. The ingredients were cheap as hell and I could make some banging ass french toast. We'd sit around the table with a stack of it and a huge bowl of syrup in the middle to dip. Yeah yeah unsanitary. We didn't give a shit. Eggs, a couple of 75 cent loaves of bread, and a bottle of syrup plus the secret ingredients I kept on hand when I could, and we'd sit around the table laughing and with full bellies.

After I got married, I couldn't tell you... That part of my life just wasn't all that great, and I don't have memories with food because of it. We were always broke and eating ramen because he blew our money on unnecessary shit. We struggled to find time to cook. I was always dieting and quite honestly after working 14 days in a row sometimes all I wanted after work was a beer when I could afford comfort (or maybe some Chinese buffet). That's part of the reason I no longer drink. I stopped the moment I found out I was pregnant, but I never really drank often after that. I could have easily been my dad when things were rough. By that time, too, I'd had my gall bladder removed, so I couldn't have a lot of the things I previously loved without issues. They really don't spend enough time telling you how badly having your gall bladder out can change your response to food, and I wasn't in any way prepared. I really had no good relationship in those years with food between being sick for months when I was pregnant and the gall stones and problems after it was out. It hurt. My relationship with food was so damaged from years of being bullied by family and peers and then hating to eat when I was sick that I just lost all sense of comfort from it at all.

So it probably shouldn't be a surprise that being a single parent really didn't change that much. My kid ate well. I always made time to fix him something he wanted, but at most I maybe had a pouch of tuna or a couple of pop tarts. We didn't really have the money for fast food, and I was also doing school full time so I didn't have time to make anything fancy. I had trouble still eating the things I had always loved. It wasn't a great time. We made due. But every now and then I'd still take the kid to our favorite Chinese place. We'd get dressed up for no reason, and he'd talk to our waitress like they were old friends. He called chicken and broccoli "wet chicken" and that became our thing, a bright spot in a dull, stressful world.

And now? Oh lawd. Now my relationship with food is probably more complicated than it has ever been because I can't eat. I mean I have a few foods I can keep down but even those aren't consistent. One day I'm fine, the next it comes back up. And despite all that the side effects of being that sick all the time, I'm still fat. One of these days y'all might have to admit it's not as simple as calories in and calories burned. But at least for now, I do have one thing that brings a little smile to my face. Grits. I've embraced being from the South more and more over the years. We're more queer than any other region of this country. We have more marginalized populations. And we have a bunch of politicians who have worked really hard to make sure that we don't have a voice, but that never seems to stop us trying. Our culture is so intertwined with food--from making due with scraps the way I have all my life. It only took me over half of it to realize this. Every morning I get up and make breakfast. Usually we have grits as part of that breakfast. Maybe some of y'all don't know what grits are because for the most part they've always been a staple in the south and ignored until fancy restaurants realized how much markup they could get on a shrimp and grits dish. Grits are basically porridge made from cornmeal, but with the right cook and the right seasoning they become a divinely creamy, savory dish that sends your taste buds into a frenzy. They're good any time of day but getting your belly full on grits first thing in the morning just sets the day off right unless of course you're on the receiving end of grits used as a weapon. Just ask Al Green about that ;)

Food is complicated for most folks. Eating disorders are all too common. We're sold fad diets and cookbooks and new devices. Sometimes comfort just isn't possible and that's ok too. But also if you take anything from what I've said here, let it be that comfort food can look like anything. It can be a $1 pack of lunchables nachos or it can be the thing your grandma made you even if you were hurt by that same grandma. Comfort can be anything that nourishes your body to keep you going. Comfort doesn't have a look or a box it can easily fit in. Take it where you can get it.

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Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts. Sit back, grab a cup, and check them all out. See you there:



Baking In A Tornado https://www.BakingInATornado.com

Wandering Web Designer https://wanderingwebdesigner.com/blog

Climaxed https://climaxedtheblog.blogspot.com

What TF Sarah https://crazymamallama.blogspot.com

Part-time Working Hockey Mom https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch/

Hero Worship

Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This month 5 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts. 

My “Secret Subject” is:

Who is your hero? Why?

It was submitted by: https://wanderingwebdesigner.com/blog

language barrier

Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This month 5 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts. 

My “Secret Subject” is:

Pick one person and tell them something you think they need to hear.

It was submitted by: https://Bakinginatornado.com 

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I'm typically the kind of person who says what they think and not necessarily bluntly or no holds barred either. If I think your partner sucks, I'm going to say that. If I think

there's a problem between us that we need to discuss, I'm going to tell you and open the floor for that discussion. And that's true for Facebook friends that ask me for advice, people I see every day acting like a butthead, and people I write in prison. If I think it and the friendship matters to me in some way, I'm going to say it. If I think something is important or somehow valuable, I'm probably going to make a post about it. If I want to talk about how much men being whiny assholes makes me enjoy the He-man remake even more, I'm gonna post that too.

But I also have boundaries on that. It's neither productive or useful to say some things to my mom. It's past the point of being useful to wish I could say something to my dad who died in 2006 and honestly the fractured relationship we had said a lot without words. There's not much left to say because it's been his absence from my life that let me find peace with who he was. The things left unsaid and unresponded to helped me find a way to accept the reality of our lives. I am better for the things left unsaid to him at this point in my life. And I certainly no longer drag out arguments with internet strangers for the sake of being right. If they're open to information, sure. I don't think it's productive or at all valuable to do what so many folks online do--tell someone to Google it. I give resources and information and help them understand with my own words. But a stranger? A stranger in the comments of a news story or public page who is hellbent on fake outrage and moving the goalpost and sealioning? Nah. Not worth my time.

And while there's a part of me that wishes I could gather some younger people around me old granny style and ask them what the fuck and request that they please stop using leftist ideologies as brands and for making monetized "content," I also know that generation grew up at a time when 10 year olds could become internet famous and they have to learn certain lessons the hard way. Nothing I could say will stick without personal experience.

So if I could say anything to anyone I think I'd like the opportunity to talk to my dog and have him understand not just key words but what is actually meant by the whole of my statement. And yes I do refer to him as a person as weird as that is. Just ask my kid who always points out when I call any animal a person in this house like I've lost the plot.

"Mother, that dog is not a person."

"I mean, I know but yes he is.

So here's to Fizz:

I did not realize I needed you til you were here. I had my big goofy buddy dog, but you're my anchor. My velcro. In the year you've been here you've grown into such a loving little guy who actually learned some tricks and how to calm down around feet and that humans won't just hurt you then give you up. But I need you to listen to me.

I have to cut your hair. Have you seen yourself without a haircut? I have pictures if you need them. Your hair wasn't cut when you got here, and honestly you could have been an extra in a star wars film. Your poop gets in it. Your food. Buddy, it's gross. You look like a toupee for Andre the Giant and I imagine that's what a toupee worn by Andre the Giant would have smelled like too.

Your nails? Also have to be cut, bruv. You click clack on the kitchen floor like all 3 Billy Goats Gruff, and it's a little annoying. And it will get painful. I'm not going to hurt you, bud. I've done it every month for a year and a half and here you are still alive.

You get ear infections like they're a new TikTok dance to learn, bro. How? And when you get them you do not help matters by being mad about the medicine and the ear cleaning. Got to do it.

Cats are not for humping. Now I know this doesn't happen very much but you know seeing your pup trying to literally raw dog a neutered cat in the middle of the living room doesn't have to happen *often* to be awkward. I know they're your buds and all that but, uh, buds don't hump. Ok some do but not you and the cats.

Yes you need baths. It's not up for debate, buddy, and while we're at it, I need you to know that you have to go outside even when it's hot. I know you'd rather just hold it because you're not pooping and peeing inside either but that's not healthy. Y'all all have to go outside rain, cold, hot, or even when, gasp, the grass is kinda tall.

Sleeping time is not chewing your ass time. I swear to God if you wake me up 5 times a night rocking the mattress to get a better grip on whatever is itching you like I've put 50 cents in a motel bed, there will be a reckoning. And while we're at it, going that hard on your itches is just going to make you more itchy. It's science.

Alright, buddy, I love you. You're doing good. You're my best bud. But you know let's just keep this in mind for the future. There's some chimkins and tacos in it for you.

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Baking In A Tornado https://www.BakingInATornado.com

Wandering Web Designer https://wanderingwebdesigner.com/blog

What TF Sarah https://crazymamallama.blogspot.com/Part-time Working Hockey Mom https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch/

Part-time Working Hockey Mom https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch/