wonder if evil people aware of their evilness ever think “why me?” when good things happen to them? like the rest of us do that aren’t mother theresa or Jesus but still manage to be surprised when the most innocent and good among us get hit by, for lack of a better word, evil.
nugget, you have cancer. ewings sarcoma presenting as a primary tumor in the left frontal lobe of your cerebellum. sitting on the locus of control for emotion, short-term memory and balance.
you started having headaches on may 26, 2015 after a day spent running amok at 5 mile park and then splashing in a river with your sister and Sackett. ibuprofen sent it running that night, but it was back the next morning and every 6 hours after that. you’d push your left palm into the middle of your forehead and squinch your eyes tightly, repeating, “ow, mommy, ow ow ow.” eye aches joined the party on saturday and then nausea on sunday night. you’d played t-ball that afternoon, proudly wearing your new helmet, pants and belt while you swung strongly, smiled broadly then ran directly towards 3rd base instead of 1st from home plate. daddy and i had grinned at your enthusiasm and shrugged off your misdirected plays as new sport confusion. he and i high-fived at the beauty of the day watching you play while enjoying Brighley clambering over our backs and Bryce’s field-side interpretative dancing…look at us our mutual smiles said, a normal happy family out here on this gorgeous day.
then the nausea showed that night, with the headache, and your begging me to push your forehead so that the ache would stop. i tried to make the peds appointment the next day but their computers were down and they couldn’t schedule anything and they asked that i call back tuesday. i did. we set an appointment and spent the morning trying not to think about what i knew was coming. your little dazed smile at me. atypical because of its cloudiness. your asking to quit Battleship since you couldn't remember coordinates --- a game you in which always-always school me. you stumbled 4 times that morning….not unusual for a 4-foot 5 year old still getting used to his rapidly lengthening body, but it was the way you stumbled and your distress after doing so. the last one was in the pond out back. you fell while trying to walk on the rocks, something you’ve done so many many times, and then HOWLED unconsolably about being wet, being scraped, being hurt, being confused —— and i knew. i knew as i watched you walk into the peds office. i knew as i watched your right foot drag and lose its flip flop. your keening to the right on the exam table as you tried to sit upright. your silliness when trying to walk a straight line for dr. stevens.
daddy has had migraines. dr stevens leaned towards treating for that because of his history and the hereditary potential. but, she said, lets do a CAT scan just to rule out anything else.
watched you happily run out of that office, lose your right flip flop again, turn and ask “this button mommy?” at the elevator — and all i could think was i didn’t want to lose you. didn’t want to hear what was coming. you’d paid your dues, right? you’d spent enough of your babyhood in hospitals while supporting brighley’s journey… that alone was a buffer, a down-payment, a karmic excuse from any further medical complications, right?
wrong.
the phone rang while we were sitting down for a hospital cafeteria hot dog. we had just left the radiology department 15 minutes ago. and here your pediatrician was calling. no one calls that fast for good news. “hi mrs hunt. its dr stevens. unfortunately i don’t have good news. scan showed a significant mass in his frontal lobe. i would tell you to walk over to ER to be admitted but they want you downtown at main campus. if you can drive him there, i am calling ahead to let them know you are on the way.”
Thursday, August 13, 2015
Saturday, February 26, 2011
so mad
how do you tell yourself to manage? when pictures of happy healthy families on commercials, on billboards, advertisements, blogs ---- they all make you furious. sudden, fierce, fireblasts of pure fury. sweeping in hard and fast and overwhelming and you fight so hard to push it down. quick. quick. stuff the monster back into the dark hole it swept out of. push and shove. then grit your teeth together and twist the lid on tight. you think its tight... but somehow the triggers bring it back every time. never stronger. never weaker. the same unbidden and unabated fervor of unadulterated fury.
where do i go with this? where do i find the why? for once my i cant find it. cant find the silver lining.
so worried about my babies. and what my emotional graveyard could do to them.
where do i go with this? where do i find the why? for once my i cant find it. cant find the silver lining.
so worried about my babies. and what my emotional graveyard could do to them.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
anger. really. big. anger.
i dont know why i have it. but its been like a lowgrade fever all my life. there. lingering. waiting to bubble up at the slightest provocation. what kind of provocation. well, usually its when affronted by some lack of rightness about things. about life. someone that shoulda got theirs didnt. or someone that i deem shady tries to pull a fast one. somehow i always ALLLLWAYS take it personally. no matter how much coaxing of my inner child to be still and calm i do. its personal.
i want things to be right.
things to be happy and calm.
but in wanting that... i usually go about it by rendering un-happy-ness and un-calm-ness. by demanding outright that things be just so.
and then the end i want eludes.
vapor dances away.
like trying to catch that clump of conditioner spilled in the tub.
in the grasp and yet gone.
and all my digging around in my grey matter is not giving me an answer.
i cannot find the root of the anger.
bc if i could.
it would be unrooted.
and perhaps the elusive clump caught and the rightness of happy and calm settled still.
i want things to be right.
things to be happy and calm.
but in wanting that... i usually go about it by rendering un-happy-ness and un-calm-ness. by demanding outright that things be just so.
and then the end i want eludes.
vapor dances away.
like trying to catch that clump of conditioner spilled in the tub.
in the grasp and yet gone.
and all my digging around in my grey matter is not giving me an answer.
i cannot find the root of the anger.
bc if i could.
it would be unrooted.
and perhaps the elusive clump caught and the rightness of happy and calm settled still.
Monday, October 5, 2009
double standard
i hate civil war reenactments. i hate the fake misery and death and over-dramatization. i dont like the grown men with civil war flags on their cars. or the south will rise again stickers. its over. its done. we're a nation. united. bound. and that was ages ago and we know how it turned out. rehashing it, keeping it alive, doesnt change the outcome one iota.
you realize that you were the only one that got therapy, right?
that the situation effected us all but that you were the only priority. and it was done gladly. and would probably be handled the same way again and again.
but you fled, doctors orders, and have been repeating the same scenario for decades now.
and we're tired. really, really tired. not angry. not mad. not hateful.
just tired.
because you keep leaving and yelling back over your shoulder the most hateful things. and once the poison reverberates down to our very souls you are back and 'you' again. the you you were before you left. before you killed us all.
he didnt get therapy.
he didnt even get defended.
he had to stand by and watch us make nice with his oppressor.
and be told in so many words that he didnt matter.
he didnt get to flee.
or to yell.
or work it out with a qualified professional.
he's had to self-medicate and wrestle with his own demons. alone. with fear that the problem was HIM because no one ever told him it wasnt.
somewhere between those experiences is the truth. somewhere bw yours of its-all-them-youre-perfect-run-forrest-run and his of deafening silence and waves of residual self-doubt ---- is where the shouldas and couldas reside. but we dont live there. we live here.
here with caring parents that want peace. here with the only family that we will ever have. here with either forgiveness and acceptance and love or
over there.
wherever you chose to make that.
but i do know that here means letting go of age-old battles. and embracing the scars. and realizing that your version of the truth is not one of absolutes.
we ALL died a little that day. we all lost something. you weren't the only one experiencing it. we were all in it together. a family. because thats what families do.
but now, now when we are older and can decide --- i can NOT still fly the flag, i can NOT engage with your reeenactments and i can NOT be a part of any bumpersticker movement to have the south rise again. on the other side of the field is a soul that stood alone in the face of abuse and manipulation and made a choice to not let it rule his future.
yes, its been a slow road perhaps. but this i know for sure... his tune is not an overplayed dixieland. and i canNOT say the same for you.
you realize that you were the only one that got therapy, right?
that the situation effected us all but that you were the only priority. and it was done gladly. and would probably be handled the same way again and again.
but you fled, doctors orders, and have been repeating the same scenario for decades now.
and we're tired. really, really tired. not angry. not mad. not hateful.
just tired.
because you keep leaving and yelling back over your shoulder the most hateful things. and once the poison reverberates down to our very souls you are back and 'you' again. the you you were before you left. before you killed us all.
he didnt get therapy.
he didnt even get defended.
he had to stand by and watch us make nice with his oppressor.
and be told in so many words that he didnt matter.
he didnt get to flee.
or to yell.
or work it out with a qualified professional.
he's had to self-medicate and wrestle with his own demons. alone. with fear that the problem was HIM because no one ever told him it wasnt.
somewhere between those experiences is the truth. somewhere bw yours of its-all-them-youre-perfect-run-forrest-run and his of deafening silence and waves of residual self-doubt ---- is where the shouldas and couldas reside. but we dont live there. we live here.
here with caring parents that want peace. here with the only family that we will ever have. here with either forgiveness and acceptance and love or
over there.
wherever you chose to make that.
but i do know that here means letting go of age-old battles. and embracing the scars. and realizing that your version of the truth is not one of absolutes.
we ALL died a little that day. we all lost something. you weren't the only one experiencing it. we were all in it together. a family. because thats what families do.
but now, now when we are older and can decide --- i can NOT still fly the flag, i can NOT engage with your reeenactments and i can NOT be a part of any bumpersticker movement to have the south rise again. on the other side of the field is a soul that stood alone in the face of abuse and manipulation and made a choice to not let it rule his future.
yes, its been a slow road perhaps. but this i know for sure... his tune is not an overplayed dixieland. and i canNOT say the same for you.
Monday, September 14, 2009
non sequitor: how you got your names
how much you are thought about and loved. even before you are here.
the rest is included as pure lagnaippe. dont say you werent warned.
From: Glenda Bolin
Sent: Monday, September 14, 2009 2:45 PM
To: Maritta M Hunt
Subject: Re: Braxton and Brighley
Dear Maritta and Brad - I was reading one of my favorite 'trifle' murder mystery authors the other night - by the name of Rita Mae Brown. The locale was Richmond, VA. The setting concerns fox hunting and the horses and people who hunt. One of the leading characters was named Braxton Ramsey - that was the second time I had encountered the name - the first was when Elaine told me your babies' names. So is Braxton a big name in that part of the world? Is it a family name on Brad's side of the family? Where did you get it - if I'm not too nosy - if I am, just say so. Say, Glenda you're just too nosy!
Secondly, Virginia has raved and raved about how good the dinner was that Brad fixed while she was there and what a wonderful cook he is. She went on and on describing it and so I've come up with the idea to make it for the Wednesday Bible Study nearest her birthday, which would be Oct. 14th the day after. She doesn't know what it's called, but she has it written done, so she says. She also says that she wrote down "fry" and she will have to talk to Maritta and see if that means the chicken was fried before it went into the dish. It also has tomatoes or tomato sauce...
Anyway, if either of you can remember what Brad made and that Ginger liked, I'd like to have the recipe so I can surprise her for her birthday - otherwise she may never get it you know? Or at least until she comes to visit you again.
We are having rain, rain, RAIN and I'm having joint trouble - my body doesn't like the pressure buildup - usually once the rain starts I feel better. Today, while feeling pretty low I had to go to my teeth cleaning appointment. I had to try very hard to maintain cheerfulness while in that office, let me tell you. But Dentists have a VERY high suicide rate - comes from people being afraid of you and not liking you I reckon. Your Mom, Maritta, periodically runs out of Wal-Mart bags - in which she wraps the mail so it won't get wet - they are going to miss her when she finally retires.
Well, off the to races - the hobbledy hoy ones, can't get it moving that fast today. Love to you all, Glenda
Mrs Glenda:
Ok! So we have PICKED OUR BRAINS and for the life of the collective “us” cannot remember what in the world Ginger is talking about! Perhaps some more details will jostle our memory? I even went as far to look through pics to see if I snapped one of dinner to see if that would help us out. no help! Sounds like chicken parmigiana to both of us but we don’t remember making that at all….. odd. Would love to help but don’t know if we can!! {Bradley of course took all the attached accolades even without producing aforementioned magical recipe.}
Braxton. Kinda a non-story story. We were driving to through Illinois and just talking about names for the kids we hadn’t even had yet. I wanted a boys name with an X in it and would just spout out things that sounded good to my ears… “what would I call ‘Brad’s son’?” the question of the hour. And if you say it to yourself for long enough Brad’s son, Brad’s son, Brad’s son… it kinda melds into Braxton. I blurted it out loud and Bradley said, “I like that!”, he stuck it with Alexander and viola! The yet to be created son’s name was born. Then, yes, later, walking through Richmond’s museum we saw a historical figure “Braxton Briggs” mentioned on several markers and took it as a definite sign.
Not that you asked but Brighley was made up too. I knew I wanted to name any daughter I might be blessed with after my mom, since she named me after her’s and plus she’s just a really cool chick. “Elaine” is of Greek origin and means ‘sunray, shining light”. So I kept massaging that around in my head and “brightly shining light” became “Brighley Alaine”. Sounded like a good homage to a mom who’s always managed to be the just that no matter what was thrown at her.
From: Glenda Bolin
Sent: Friday, September 18, 2009 11:08 AM
To: Maritta M Hunt
Subject: Re: Recipe, Braxtion and Brighley
Dear Brad and Maritta - I love the reasoning behind the names - now you will have something unique to tell them when they ask if they are named after anyone.
My Mom was born in Kentucky and my Dad in Michigan. My Dad was down South working and he saw my Mom at the little corner grocery where she went every couple of days to pick up stuff for her Mom. (His first gift/introduction was that he bought her a Baby Ruth candy bar - nothing but the best!) Anyway they married and moved back to Michigan. I was born and named Glenda Sue - the Glenda was because she had never heard the name before she moved North and she loved it, the Sue was after my Dad's youngest sister, Susannah, who was my Mom's best bud up there. Then an old neighbor lady came to visit and to see the baby. She asked Mom what they named me and she told her Glenda Sue and this old Yankee says, "I just knew you'd name her a Southern name!"
Brad, is your middle initial A? Cuz the kids will both be B. A. Hunt ( BAH!) Just wondering.
Virginia is supposed to come here today to pick up some skirts that I hemmed for her. She told me she had written down all the stuff that Brad put in it - so I will try to wrest that from her possession and proceed from there. She may not let me see it until I tell her why I want it - so much for surprises!
F.E. is out mowing the back yard. I wonder (and hope) each time he does that if he will let me call a stump grinder - but No! he loves those five stumps - "they give the back yard character" - I told him the only time that back yard had an ounce of character was when he was mowing it - but he will not be moved. Time and attrition will out though - mushrooms disintegrated one and have moved on to the second, so there is hope after all!
I didn't know until Wednesday night, Brad, that you had been job seeking. I'm so glad you were able to find one so quickly. That says a lot about you and your character in this time of 'recessive depression'.
Oh, yes, I just talked to my Aunt Sue. She asked me if I knew who was named after - I said of course I do! Then she asked me if I had ever heard about how Mom told her and I said no. They were all at Grandma's (Sue was still a young teenager and so living at home). The only private place they had was the outhouse. So Mom motioned for Sue to follow her and so there they both were sitting on the old wooden platform with two holes (really ritzy) and Mom asked her that if the baby were a girl how would she like to have her named after her. She said she answered I would just Love it - and so now you know the rest of the story - and so do I!
Love to all of you, Glenda
Dear Ms Glenda:
Your story is fantastic!! Glad they went with Glenda Sue and not “Baby Ruth Sue”! I was named after a secretary mom worked with --- and yes I like to embellish it and say I was named after MOM’S Secretary and let the questions remain unanswered. Tee-hee!
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Yes, all of bradley’s siblings (he’s one of SIX) have the BAH as well as Brooke (Brooke Ann) so we are following that line. Christie pointed out that I was having a “BAH BAH” as in “Black sheep” so I thanked her for my nursery theme. J While Brooke was here last weekend I had us all outside painting items for the nursery… attached is the completed masterpieces. You can see I am taking the theme and running with it. Bradley also has a monogrammed Christmas shirt that has BAH on one cuff and HUMBUG on the other. Gotta love a developed sense of humor.
I am with Ferris on the character filled yard! Ours usually happens at family gatherings… lots of characters in the yard… but nice that you get it with tree stumps! Dad has been getting his stump grinder in working order, I am sure if you say the word he would LOVE to actually have something to grind with it!
Bradley’s very excited about the new job. Well, got excited yesterday. He’s had to go through all the stages of grieving about the process of leaving UBS. Understandably. Nothing like getting your 10-year thank-you-for-your-services award closely followed by a btw-we-n0-longer-require-your-services notice. Personally, I am really really happy for the change. No, I don’t get particularly thrilled by the prospect of additional years in Virginia but I am tickled that he is getting a chance to shine with a company that is shaking their tail feathers at having him. Had he stayed with UBS his new boss would have made it a living hell unpleasantry!
Have a super Saturday! We are off to Richmond to catch a comedy show and dinner with friends in celebration of our ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY! (I gave a Bradley a congratulations card in lieu of a happy anniversary card --- we keep talking about the nuttiness of our first matrimonial year, so I figured recognition of his survival skills was in order.)
Xox!
~m+b4
From: Glenda Bolin
Sent: Saturday, September 19, 2009 11:29 AM
To: Maritta M Hunt
Subject: Re: Ginger's dish
Dear Maritta and Brad When I asked Ginger yesterday for the recipe or list of ingredients she said, "What? Oh, for the soup?" I just looked at her. Then I told her if she got it to me we'd have her complete menu for her birthday. She thought that was pretty cool - so if I ever see the ingredients list I'll let you know so Brad will know he's a Winner! Went to bible Study with your parents last night. Afterwards, the Clemens joined us at the Road Steak House and we ate dinner and got home waaay after 10:00 but F.E. was still awake! Later. Love, Glenda
Dear Mrs. Glenda:
THAT IS SO GINGER!! We are both rolling. I hung those old window frames that yall carted to me in the house --- one in the powder room --- where it hung safe and sound for the months bw your visit and hers. She cam to visit and THREE times while in the powder room I would hear this calamity and then an “oh”. It was her knocking the frame off the wall. The cake was taken when she cam out after the third time and said, “what you got that hanging on, some dinky nail or something?” I died. Love her special brand of being.
Brad does make killer chicken soup. From stock. With homemade noodles. Yummers. So here we go: (he’s dictating)
Bradley’s Killer Chicken Soup
This is a recipe for 4 servings, multiply as needed.
For stock:
3 pounds chicken wings
2 cloves garlic
1 whole small yellow onion
Combine ingredients in large soup pot, cover with water and boil until onion is totally dissolved. Let cool and refrigerate overnight.
For noodles:
2 cups flour
2 eggs
2 eggshells full of milk (adjust for consistency of dough. Don’t dump in the eggshells.)
Pinch salt
Pinch baking powder
Mix all ingredients. Split dough in half. Roll out on floured surface with rolling pin. Roll to “noodle thin”. Use knife or pizza cutter and slice into long, thin noodles (1/4” X 8”). Let noodles dry for 1 hour, noodles should still be pliable but not brittle.
For Soup:
3 stalks of celery
3 carrots
Basil (to taste)
2 T (or to taste) Orrington Farms Chicken Flavored soup base
Take refrigerated stock, skim off fat and discard. Reheat stock. Strain out bones and meat from stock; set aside meat for soup and discard bones. Let cool. Add meat back to stock and bring to boil. Chop carrots and celery. Add carrots, celery, basil and soup base. Cook until carrots are just tender. Add water if necessary (too salty? too thick?) and return to boil. Add noodles and boil uncovered for 10 minutes. Noodles will puff up like dumplings.
Serve in bowls sprinkled with celery salt. Ta-dah!
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From: Glenda Bolin
Sent: Monday, September 21, 2009 5:41 PM
To: Maritta M Hunt
Subject: Ginger's
Attached is Ginger's copy of the that delicious recipe. After looking at it I told her that sounded a lot easier, that's the one we're having! So if there is any clearing up you can give, I'd appreciate it. Thanks. Love, Glenda
Dear Mrs Glenda:
I will swear on my life and that of my dear sweet pooches that we have never made that in our collective lives.
Will check with Brad when he gets out of the shower, just in case my baby brain has gone into hyper-tard mode…. but… no, never made that. ever.
Dear Mrs. Glenda:
I have a second on my motion that we indeed have NEVER cooked that ever. Ever ever. And hope that you guys are okay after eating it. :)
the rest is included as pure lagnaippe. dont say you werent warned.
From: Glenda Bolin
Sent: Monday, September 14, 2009 2:45 PM
To: Maritta M Hunt
Subject: Re: Braxton and Brighley
Dear Maritta and Brad - I was reading one of my favorite 'trifle' murder mystery authors the other night - by the name of Rita Mae Brown. The locale was Richmond, VA. The setting concerns fox hunting and the horses and people who hunt. One of the leading characters was named Braxton Ramsey - that was the second time I had encountered the name - the first was when Elaine told me your babies' names. So is Braxton a big name in that part of the world? Is it a family name on Brad's side of the family? Where did you get it - if I'm not too nosy - if I am, just say so. Say, Glenda you're just too nosy!
Secondly, Virginia has raved and raved about how good the dinner was that Brad fixed while she was there and what a wonderful cook he is. She went on and on describing it and so I've come up with the idea to make it for the Wednesday Bible Study nearest her birthday, which would be Oct. 14th the day after. She doesn't know what it's called, but she has it written done, so she says. She also says that she wrote down "fry" and she will have to talk to Maritta and see if that means the chicken was fried before it went into the dish. It also has tomatoes or tomato sauce...
Anyway, if either of you can remember what Brad made and that Ginger liked, I'd like to have the recipe so I can surprise her for her birthday - otherwise she may never get it you know? Or at least until she comes to visit you again.
We are having rain, rain, RAIN and I'm having joint trouble - my body doesn't like the pressure buildup - usually once the rain starts I feel better. Today, while feeling pretty low I had to go to my teeth cleaning appointment. I had to try very hard to maintain cheerfulness while in that office, let me tell you. But Dentists have a VERY high suicide rate - comes from people being afraid of you and not liking you I reckon. Your Mom, Maritta, periodically runs out of Wal-Mart bags - in which she wraps the mail so it won't get wet - they are going to miss her when she finally retires.
Well, off the to races - the hobbledy hoy ones, can't get it moving that fast today. Love to you all, Glenda
Mrs Glenda:
Ok! So we have PICKED OUR BRAINS and for the life of the collective “us” cannot remember what in the world Ginger is talking about! Perhaps some more details will jostle our memory? I even went as far to look through pics to see if I snapped one of dinner to see if that would help us out. no help! Sounds like chicken parmigiana to both of us but we don’t remember making that at all….. odd. Would love to help but don’t know if we can!! {Bradley of course took all the attached accolades even without producing aforementioned magical recipe.}
Braxton. Kinda a non-story story. We were driving to through Illinois and just talking about names for the kids we hadn’t even had yet. I wanted a boys name with an X in it and would just spout out things that sounded good to my ears… “what would I call ‘Brad’s son’?” the question of the hour. And if you say it to yourself for long enough Brad’s son, Brad’s son, Brad’s son… it kinda melds into Braxton. I blurted it out loud and Bradley said, “I like that!”, he stuck it with Alexander and viola! The yet to be created son’s name was born. Then, yes, later, walking through Richmond’s museum we saw a historical figure “Braxton Briggs” mentioned on several markers and took it as a definite sign.
Not that you asked but Brighley was made up too. I knew I wanted to name any daughter I might be blessed with after my mom, since she named me after her’s and plus she’s just a really cool chick. “Elaine” is of Greek origin and means ‘sunray, shining light”. So I kept massaging that around in my head and “brightly shining light” became “Brighley Alaine”. Sounded like a good homage to a mom who’s always managed to be the just that no matter what was thrown at her.
From: Glenda Bolin
Sent: Friday, September 18, 2009 11:08 AM
To: Maritta M Hunt
Subject: Re: Recipe, Braxtion and Brighley
Dear Brad and Maritta - I love the reasoning behind the names - now you will have something unique to tell them when they ask if they are named after anyone.
My Mom was born in Kentucky and my Dad in Michigan. My Dad was down South working and he saw my Mom at the little corner grocery where she went every couple of days to pick up stuff for her Mom. (His first gift/introduction was that he bought her a Baby Ruth candy bar - nothing but the best!) Anyway they married and moved back to Michigan. I was born and named Glenda Sue - the Glenda was because she had never heard the name before she moved North and she loved it, the Sue was after my Dad's youngest sister, Susannah, who was my Mom's best bud up there. Then an old neighbor lady came to visit and to see the baby. She asked Mom what they named me and she told her Glenda Sue and this old Yankee says, "I just knew you'd name her a Southern name!"
Brad, is your middle initial A? Cuz the kids will both be B. A. Hunt ( BAH!) Just wondering.
Virginia is supposed to come here today to pick up some skirts that I hemmed for her. She told me she had written down all the stuff that Brad put in it - so I will try to wrest that from her possession and proceed from there. She may not let me see it until I tell her why I want it - so much for surprises!
F.E. is out mowing the back yard. I wonder (and hope) each time he does that if he will let me call a stump grinder - but No! he loves those five stumps - "they give the back yard character" - I told him the only time that back yard had an ounce of character was when he was mowing it - but he will not be moved. Time and attrition will out though - mushrooms disintegrated one and have moved on to the second, so there is hope after all!
I didn't know until Wednesday night, Brad, that you had been job seeking. I'm so glad you were able to find one so quickly. That says a lot about you and your character in this time of 'recessive depression'.
Oh, yes, I just talked to my Aunt Sue. She asked me if I knew who was named after - I said of course I do! Then she asked me if I had ever heard about how Mom told her and I said no. They were all at Grandma's (Sue was still a young teenager and so living at home). The only private place they had was the outhouse. So Mom motioned for Sue to follow her and so there they both were sitting on the old wooden platform with two holes (really ritzy) and Mom asked her that if the baby were a girl how would she like to have her named after her. She said she answered I would just Love it - and so now you know the rest of the story - and so do I!
Love to all of you, Glenda
Dear Ms Glenda:
Your story is fantastic!! Glad they went with Glenda Sue and not “Baby Ruth Sue”! I was named after a secretary mom worked with --- and yes I like to embellish it and say I was named after MOM’S Secretary and let the questions remain unanswered. Tee-hee!
I am with Ferris on the character filled yard! Ours usually happens at family gatherings… lots of characters in the yard… but nice that you get it with tree stumps! Dad has been getting his stump grinder in working order, I am sure if you say the word he would LOVE to actually have something to grind with it!
Bradley’s very excited about the new job. Well, got excited yesterday. He’s had to go through all the stages of grieving about the process of leaving UBS. Understandably. Nothing like getting your 10-year thank-you-for-your-services award closely followed by a btw-we-n0-longer-require-your-services notice. Personally, I am really really happy for the change. No, I don’t get particularly thrilled by the prospect of additional years in Virginia but I am tickled that he is getting a chance to shine with a company that is shaking their tail feathers at having him. Had he stayed with UBS his new boss would have made it a living hell unpleasantry!
Have a super Saturday! We are off to Richmond to catch a comedy show and dinner with friends in celebration of our ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY! (I gave a Bradley a congratulations card in lieu of a happy anniversary card --- we keep talking about the nuttiness of our first matrimonial year, so I figured recognition of his survival skills was in order.)
Xox!
~m+b4
From: Glenda Bolin
Sent: Saturday, September 19, 2009 11:29 AM
To: Maritta M Hunt
Subject: Re: Ginger's dish
Dear Maritta and Brad When I asked Ginger yesterday for the recipe or list of ingredients she said, "What? Oh, for the soup?" I just looked at her. Then I told her if she got it to me we'd have her complete menu for her birthday. She thought that was pretty cool - so if I ever see the ingredients list I'll let you know so Brad will know he's a Winner! Went to bible Study with your parents last night. Afterwards, the Clemens joined us at the Road Steak House and we ate dinner and got home waaay after 10:00 but F.E. was still awake! Later. Love, Glenda
Dear Mrs. Glenda:
THAT IS SO GINGER!! We are both rolling. I hung those old window frames that yall carted to me in the house --- one in the powder room --- where it hung safe and sound for the months bw your visit and hers. She cam to visit and THREE times while in the powder room I would hear this calamity and then an “oh”. It was her knocking the frame off the wall. The cake was taken when she cam out after the third time and said, “what you got that hanging on, some dinky nail or something?” I died. Love her special brand of being.
Brad does make killer chicken soup. From stock. With homemade noodles. Yummers. So here we go: (he’s dictating)
Bradley’s Killer Chicken Soup
This is a recipe for 4 servings, multiply as needed.
For stock:
3 pounds chicken wings
2 cloves garlic
1 whole small yellow onion
Combine ingredients in large soup pot, cover with water and boil until onion is totally dissolved. Let cool and refrigerate overnight.
For noodles:
2 cups flour
2 eggs
2 eggshells full of milk (adjust for consistency of dough. Don’t dump in the eggshells.)
Pinch salt
Pinch baking powder
Mix all ingredients. Split dough in half. Roll out on floured surface with rolling pin. Roll to “noodle thin”. Use knife or pizza cutter and slice into long, thin noodles (1/4” X 8”). Let noodles dry for 1 hour, noodles should still be pliable but not brittle.
For Soup:
3 stalks of celery
3 carrots
Basil (to taste)
2 T (or to taste) Orrington Farms Chicken Flavored soup base
Take refrigerated stock, skim off fat and discard. Reheat stock. Strain out bones and meat from stock; set aside meat for soup and discard bones. Let cool. Add meat back to stock and bring to boil. Chop carrots and celery. Add carrots, celery, basil and soup base. Cook until carrots are just tender. Add water if necessary (too salty? too thick?) and return to boil. Add noodles and boil uncovered for 10 minutes. Noodles will puff up like dumplings.
Serve in bowls sprinkled with celery salt. Ta-dah!
From: Glenda Bolin
Sent: Monday, September 21, 2009 5:41 PM
To: Maritta M Hunt
Subject: Ginger's
Attached is Ginger's copy of the that delicious recipe. After looking at it I told her that sounded a lot easier, that's the one we're having! So if there is any clearing up you can give, I'd appreciate it. Thanks. Love, Glenda
Dear Mrs Glenda:
I will swear on my life and that of my dear sweet pooches that we have never made that in our collective lives.
Will check with Brad when he gets out of the shower, just in case my baby brain has gone into hyper-tard mode…. but… no, never made that. ever.
Dear Mrs. Glenda:
I have a second on my motion that we indeed have NEVER cooked that ever. Ever ever. And hope that you guys are okay after eating it. :)
Friday, May 8, 2009
no point to this.
she is petite. mouthy. stylish. gorgeous. hilarious. loving. brilliant.
she is also bitter. angry. bitchy. bitter. bitter. bitter.
right now she is snarling at any and all things near her and its hard not to take it personally. but its not personal. never has been. life has beaten her black and blue with a barrage of lemons and she has never had a taste for lemonade.
she gave up her life/home/career once to chase a dream guy that turned out to be too much "that guy" and not enough dream. turns out he was wooing someone else while sharing her housespace and her bed.
rescued from that dizzy fall by Mr. Perfect and a fairytale romance straight off of the pages of Harlequin Romance. all of us were fooled. there wasnt a single wait-a-minute from anyyyyone. they celebrated their one year of dating anniversary AFTER they were married. yes, that kinda whirlwind. and the temp never stopped. fabulous honeymoon. fabulous anniversary. fabulous kick-off of his dream job catering business headed towards full-on restaurant fame and fortune. fabulous first home together. fabulous first furniture together. she lost her job. he moved out. what?! yes, he was gone and never looked back.
not a country song. not yet. losing your job. your man. your home. SOUNDS like a country song. but she still had the dog. the stable force in her life at this point. he got kinda depressed too. there were lotsa moves and changes in his life too. he dropped a few pounds. laid around and didnt want to play.
you would think that a reprieve would have been in order. that her birthday could have been celebrated as a dividing line between that-was-then and a this-is-now breather.
but the lemons werent finished.
the dog was still there so the country song wasnt complete. she took him to the vet for a check-up on her birthday and for her care and concern was rewarded with a terminal cancer surprise.
as if her year had not been crapped out enough.
f*ck lemonade.
she is also bitter. angry. bitchy. bitter. bitter. bitter.
right now she is snarling at any and all things near her and its hard not to take it personally. but its not personal. never has been. life has beaten her black and blue with a barrage of lemons and she has never had a taste for lemonade.
she gave up her life/home/career once to chase a dream guy that turned out to be too much "that guy" and not enough dream. turns out he was wooing someone else while sharing her housespace and her bed.
rescued from that dizzy fall by Mr. Perfect and a fairytale romance straight off of the pages of Harlequin Romance. all of us were fooled. there wasnt a single wait-a-minute from anyyyyone. they celebrated their one year of dating anniversary AFTER they were married. yes, that kinda whirlwind. and the temp never stopped. fabulous honeymoon. fabulous anniversary. fabulous kick-off of his dream job catering business headed towards full-on restaurant fame and fortune. fabulous first home together. fabulous first furniture together. she lost her job. he moved out. what?! yes, he was gone and never looked back.
not a country song. not yet. losing your job. your man. your home. SOUNDS like a country song. but she still had the dog. the stable force in her life at this point. he got kinda depressed too. there were lotsa moves and changes in his life too. he dropped a few pounds. laid around and didnt want to play.
you would think that a reprieve would have been in order. that her birthday could have been celebrated as a dividing line between that-was-then and a this-is-now breather.
but the lemons werent finished.
the dog was still there so the country song wasnt complete. she took him to the vet for a check-up on her birthday and for her care and concern was rewarded with a terminal cancer surprise.
as if her year had not been crapped out enough.
f*ck lemonade.
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