Do you ever feel like your body is too small to hold all your emotions? Yeah, me too.
G*ddamn you, Joss Whedon.
Well, this is a load of holy crap. Let me tell you about Christian Domestic Discipline.
It’s Friday. My brain’s fried. But I want an excuse to hang out with you guys, so here are two terrible things and two wonderful things I learned in the last week.
My father is currently in a “rehab/assisted living facility.” He spends his days and nights holed up in a 12 x 12′ room, only leaving for physical therapy. Facing the grim reality in the hallways is just too depressing.
In eighth grade, my friend Becca had to lug a plastic baby doll around for two weeks. She was in Home Economics, and those babies represented the pinnacle of the teacher’s Curriculum for Southern Young Women.
Today, I offer you two unrelated vignettes. Or are they?
This was originally posted on Black Box Warnings in November, two days after my 29th birthday. But, since BBW is (temporarily, I hope) closed for viewing, I decided to re-post it here. These words matter muchly to me. Please fly right on over if you’ve already seen it!
I’ve always been too much of a free spirit to really respect time beyond the changing of the seasons, when I pop my distracted head out of the clouds long enough to notice that I need a cardigan over my sundress. And so, it’s only now that I’m sharing something I read recently: that the way you spend New Year’s Day is the way you’ll spend the rest of your year. If that’s true, 2014 will be the year my husband speaks to me through the carcasses of dead animals.
My dog Adi has frequent seizures. I don’t know why, and I never will. She’s shown me, though, that going through depression is a lot like surviving emotional seizures.