Mother’s Day
It’s Mother’s Day.
I know I should be pretty much worshiping my mother and carrying her around on my back, EVERY DAY, because of all she does for me, but alas that is not possible.
To be honest, I woke up angry.
Sometimes I think I try to sleep a lot to escape from reality. I think I have more control over my dreams than real life. When awake, I can’t stop thoughts about people that irk the HELL out of me. I can’t STAND rude, inconsiderate, undeservedly conceited people, especially when they’re more than a year younger than me. I mean, I know I’m not that far out of my teenage years, but 19 year olds are the most presumptuous, rude, uncouth people in the WORLD. I swear! Actually, I don’t think I liked 19 year olds when I WAS 19…
I was thoughtfully brooding similar thoughts as I made breakfast this morning. I tried the family biscuit recipe which turned out well despite my surly attitude while making it. Bacon, sausage, and a fruit salad (made of pineapple, cantaloupe, watermelon, strawberries and green grapes) were also on the menu. All was presented outside on the back porch table on the good china I’m supposed to inherit when I get married. The sun was shining, I cut the grass a few days ago so the lawn looked manicured, the pecan trees blew in the wind…
The only thing missing were slave spirituals sung by the field hands carried to us on the magnolia scented breeze…
(We are in Georgia after all. And there are magnolia bushes by the porch and they were quite scented).
I tried my best to be quiet, nod, and smile as I was raised to do…the don’t speak unless spoken to kind of thing. Besides, I was very much aware that anything coming out of my mouth would be tinged with misdirected “attitude”.
After breakfast, mother and I went to her kuntry A church. Usually that warrants an entry in itself, but I’ll be good and only mention that I triumphantly resisted the urge to scrape the scar tissue that was on the face of the parishioner in front of me. It resembled charbroiled meat. By the end of the service, I was convinced it could be scraped off with a butter knife.
Drove home, replied to an inappropriate text message received during church, started dinner.
Had an incident with the grill, but it all turned out okay. In my own defense, I did not cause the flames to be that high; It was windy. I made grilled (then later baked due to the incident) honey/orange/teriyaki leg quarters (I ain’t saying what was in the honey/orange/teriyaki mixture), snap green beans, and boiled potatoes. I was going to try the family roll recipe but we didn’t have any yeast.
Everything turned out well.
Cooking really does take your mind of wanting to slap the heck out of bratty nineteen year olds…
P.S. Every day that passes makes me more and more hateful of Atlanta “Hip Hop” and the club scene. That’s an entirely different entry altogether actually, but I just wanted to say so.
P.P.S. What’s up with all this Propaganda about the Divinci Code? I decided to investigate for my self. I went to the library on a quest for the book. They didn’t have itso I took the lazy man’s route and got the audio book instead; 13 CD’s of sacrilege. My afternoon should be an interesting one.
P.P.P.S I have an interview with Disney tomorrow at 9:30. Why I chose a time so early in the gosh darn morning is beside me…*sigh
That is all.
