Balance

Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This week 9 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: This year, I'm grateful for _______.

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

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I am grateful things aren’t worse.

That’s about all I can say for this year. I’ve lost friends, watched the nation turn more and more towards hate, dealt with the return of a stalker, weathered a hurricane that left the area devastated, and now have a dog with diabetes that I can never leave alone for more than a few hours until she gets her next injection. I’ve been hurt, friends are dealing with scary health issues, and my cfs has been a constant and ever present nightmare. But. It could be worse, I guess? I think that’s really one of the major thoughts that helps me get through the day some days. It could be worse. I could have worse health scares. I could be bedridden. It could be another year for an execution instead of just an anniversary of one. I could have lost my dog instead of having to give her injections twice a day. I could have lost my closest friend not just a couple good friends. It could definitely be worse.

I’m thankful I haven’t had to see “30 Days of Thanks” on my Facebook timeline this year.

I know a lot of people do it. I get why they might want to in a way, and I do realize most of the time the intent is not related to ego. But holy shit it can be isolating. Impact matters. For anyone struggling with their health really badly like many people I know are, seeing everyone else be thankful for their health on their feed throughout the month is just a reminder we don’t have that. Seeing someone be thankful they’re pregnant can be a reminder for the person struggling to get pregnant that they don’t have that. It’s not that it’s just one person saying this randomly. When this has been a trending activity to do on social media, it’s a barrage of different people posting it throughout the month. I know that people are still happy for others and would never wish sickness or infertility or whatever on any of their friends, but those reminders of what we don’t have can be difficult, and I don’t think it’s too much of an ask to be mindful of what others’ may be going through before sharing what you’re grateful to have every single day for 30 days or how much people who are struggling are seeing how alone they are in their struggle.

I’m grateful the House was flipped blue to try and keep a check on things in the government. I’m thankful Muslim women, gay women, gay men, democratic socialists, and Indigenous women all made history winning their elections. I’m grateful Georgia seems to be moving more blue as demographics change and younger people get more involved in voting. I’m absolutely horrified about this new Trump-esque governor (as of typing this Kemp still has a lead anyway while Abrams files suits and waits on final counts). As a queer woman with friends of color, trans friends, veterans I love, people I love with pre-existing conditions, and other queer friends, it’s terrifying to have someone in control who would deny us coverage, existence, access to benefits, and more. I didn’t expect different really. It’s still Georgia after all, but it’s still unsettling to say the least that in this time we will still elect people like Kemp or DeSantis in Florida who ran corrupt campaigns and made thinly veiled racist statements. It’s give and take, this election, but I’m grateful I was able to make my voice heard even if it’s not fully or really at all represented in my home state.

I’m grateful I for all the kiddos at my house—the human one and all the furry ones. Not furry like costumed but furry like actual cats and dogs. I feel too weird not making that distinction. I don’t know where I would be without them to both keep me too busy to think about things and to keep me feeling loved. A year ago, I was contacted by a facebook friend about a friend of hers who needed help with 2 cats in the Atlanta area. The other woman’s former partner had passed suddenly, and these cats needed a foster home. She planned on moving one to Canada with her and helping me find a home for the other. It literally took days for Secret to dig her claws into my heart and make her place here. I call her Queenie now because she runs this place and owns me. I can’t really explain it. I have more than my fair share of cats between rescues and foster fails and fostering period, and I have bonds with a lot of them, but nothing compares to this relationship I have with my Queenie. We’re inseparable, and I am grateful every day I made the choice to bring them here even when I didn’t have the space. I’m grateful I took a chance on contacting the people who had Rost, my dane, even though I didn’t think I was ready for him after my old man Cap passing away a few months before. He’s been amazing in keeping me anchored to this Earth. I don’t know how I would have made it through this year without him. And of course, I’m always grateful for the weird relationship I have with the human kiddo. He keeps me laughing, and the amount of leg hair he has now is awe-inspiring. Haha.

I’m also thankful I have friends who will come to me with questions about social issues, who don’t mistake my passion for anger, and my honesty for hatefulness. I’m thankful I have friends willing to learn, to do the work to be good allies, that will keep me in check when I fail, and work with me to challenge others to be better. I’m thankful I can be a part of groups that help others with everything from depression pizzas to meme threads when we’re down but also to help keep that growth going no matter how dark the future might seem at times. I’m thankful I have made spaces where those of us who aren’t the majority feel safe to express how we see the world and who aren’t afraid to be unapologetically us. I’m thankful people see me as someone who will stand up for them and fight with them, and that being, well, disabled, hasn’t changed how they see me. I might not be on the front lines of the fight, but I’m here for them, and they know it. I’m thankful I have friends who are there for me too, that fight for me, that love me no matter what. Those are the relationships that keep you going.

I’m grateful I found kratom. That’s been my savior this year to help battle the pain I experience with cfs. There were some dark times full of misery and anger and thoughts of ending it all to escape the pain for awhile there. I tried CBD oil which did help with anxiety but did nothing much for the pain, and I was starting to feel I was out of options when I stumbled upon this plant. I cried the first day I took it standing in the shower wowed at how it feels to not have a level 8 pain all day long trying to make it through the day. I still have pain even on it, but holy shit is the world easier to take when it’s a 3 or 4 and not so intense I cannot function.

And I’m immensely grateful even after everything, I still have a sense of humor. Laughing really is the best medicine.

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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/2018/11/sweet-red-hot-pretzel-snacks-secret.html?fbclid=IwAR2x6aHLT5QZ7GMuMmsVWuY7MLuqC7vARup5nuBc23B4Ffz-rbGeGY_japE

The Lieber Family Blog http://thelieberfamily.com

The Bergham Chronicles https://berghamchronicles.blogspot.com

The Blogging 911 http://theblogging911.com/blog

Cognitive Script https://cognitivescript.blogspot.com/2018/11/holiday-traditions-keep-or-toss-out-sss.html?fbclid=IwAR1541E76m548fUXhSh4-RrpmLoGVa3A6B4TicMgmelZSGZDb2uFgsKbmgM

Never Ever Give Up Hope https://batteredhope.blogspot.com

Part Time Working Hockey Mom https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch/

Sparkly Poetic Weirdo https://sparklyjenn.blogspot.com/

Don't Mess with Tradition

Today’s post is a writing challenge. This is how it works: participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases for someone else to craft into a post. All words must be used at least once and all the posts will be unique as each writer has received their own set of words. That’s the challenge, here’s a fun twist; no one who’s participating knows who got their words and in what direction the writer will take them. Until now.

my words are: turkey, duck, permit required, EMT, hazmat suit, green belt

These words don't really belong in any sort of normal tale. Good thing I'm not a normal sort of person. I took this one a little less seriously than I do with a lot of my fiction. I needed that after everything that happened this year and especially this week. 

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It was a normal Thanksgiving at our house. Well, at least until the guys in hazmat suits arrived.

Okay, let me backtrack here. I’m getting ahead of myself.

So the thing about Thanksgiving is that the fam is kind of spread out, right? My brothers and I are all grown and married with kids of our own. There’s 12 grandchildren total. It’s tough to get everyone together on actual Thanksgiving and still have time to visit respective in-laws and not lose our sanity in the process of traveling every-fucking-where in such little time. My family agreed a long time ago that we’d do Thanksgiving on the Sunday before that way no one was in a rush, and we could kind of spend some time that weekend catching up and letting the kids visit.

That part was the normal part.

We all came down on Friday to Mom and Dad’s. We don’t all spend the night here because 12 kids in one house along with 4 couples is a big no, man, but my oldest brother drove his RV down so he and his wife were in the driveway with his 4 kids. My youngest brother and his wife and baby get the spare room because, you know, he’s the baby with a baby. My family and my closest brother’s family both stay in these little cabins by the lake. We’re only about 10 miles from the old homestead, but it’s nice and peaceful out there by the water, and the rest of the crew comes by on Saturdays to hang out for awhile before we all head over to the Fall Festival. That’s always the plan, and that’s exactly how it all went down this year.

Sundays are for our big dinner. Dressing, greens, homemade biscuits, mashed potatoes, mac and cheese, and usually both fried and roasted turkeys. It takes a lot of food to feed us all, and by the end of it, Dad always has his old hunter green belt undone and draped over the back of his recliner. In all these years, the guy hasn’t so much as changed the style of belt he wears, but considering I’m the only little girl he ever had and I married a woman, he’s kind of had to change his values especially after we adopted Sadie and Emma, twins with Down Syndrome, and Deon, who is Black (we’re white). My wife and I didn’t set out to rock the boat and have such a hodge podge family, but we fostered these kids first, and their families never even made an attempt to get them. We all just worked together. We’re family, and we love these kids like our own. And we still foster, so who knows what the future might bring?

So the man who has had the same kind of belt for my whole entire life has had to learn to change every single thing he ever imagined for the life of his little girl and in the process, he had to relearn a lot of the beliefs he held. Mom, too, really. But they’re more on board and a bigger support than ever. It’s a strange juxtaposition. The man still isn’t big on change no matter how much my identity and life choices have made us all grow and be closer. So it was no surprise that he was not down with the idea of a turducken this Thanksgiving when my mom sprung that fact on us, and by fact, I mean she had already bought and cooked the thing and laid it on the table before we ever knew what hit us.

The first sign of trouble came when Dad looked at the thing, frown etched on his face, and said, “I thought there was some sort of permit required for you to serve one of these…” He paused then seeing the look on Mom’s face and added, “…culinary delights.” Nice attempt at a save, Pops, but Mom wasn’t at all impressed with his level of sarcasm. She didn’t have much to say in reply, but she has one of those faces that tells every single one of her emotions. Zero poker face on that woman.

Dad was losing hope at that point as all table filled leaving no more room for any sort of regular turkey, fried or otherwise, but he still just had to ask, “Please tell me there’s turkey.”

“Yeah there’s turkey. That’s why it’s called a Turducken, Hank. Tur for turkey. See what they did there? Turkey, duck, and chicken all in one pan, and since you don’t help out with Thanksgiving cooking, I’m telling you from experience that it’s a whole lot easier to cook than the alternative I do every year. By myself. Alone. In the kitchen at 5 a.m.”

Yeah, she went there.

And yes, it shut the man up for a bit.

Right after we made our plates and sat down to eat, though, he excused himself to the bathroom which was a bit odd. I mean, all the kids know that when you’re called to the table, you better have your hands washed and have did whatever business you had to do. All of us being at the table at one time didn’t get to happen too often, and he kind of holds it sacred, I suppose.

He was gone awhile, and we joked about him needing to make peace with the idea of a turdurken before sitting down to take part. All of us were dying to dig in, plates piled high and all those heavenly scents making our mouths water. We were about to take a vote to start without him when he sauntered back in the dining room, smirk planted on his face. I knew something was up at that point. I was a Daddy’s girl my whole life. I know every expression that man ever makes, and that one in particular meant he had a trick or two up his sleeve.

I decided to see how the whole thing played out.

I should also add that my dad is an EMT, and he has a lot of people out there that owe him favors for shifts covered and all that jazz.

That’s when the guys in hazmat suits showed up. At first it was a little bit of a shock. Probably to the whole neighborhood. In hindsight, I’m pretty sure my dad called in a favor. I mean, that’s the only thing that could have happened seeing as how they came in, communicating on walkie talkies about the risk, headed straight for the table, bagged the turducken, then asked Mom if they could see her permit.

I swear that woman turned about 57 shades of red. Not from embarrassment. She knew she’d been beaten.

That’s the little story about the ONLY time my family had turducken for Thanksgiving.

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Here are the rest of the submissions: 

Baking In A Tornado http://www.bakinginatornado.com/2016/11/use-your-words-plausible-deniability.html

Not That Sarah Michelle http://notthatsarahmichelle.blogspot.com

Spatulas on Parade http://spatulasonparade.blogspot.com/

The Bergham Chronicles http://berghamchronicles.blogspot.com

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

Dinosaur Superhero Mommy http://dinoheromommy.com/

Climaxed http://climaxedtheblog.blogspot.com

Confessions of a part time working mom http://thethreegerbers.blogspot.com/2016/11/use-your-words-high-jinks.html

On the Border http://dlt-lifeontheranch.blogspot.com/2016/11/raindance.html

Evil Joy Speaks http://www.eviljoyspeaks.com