Sometimes it seems as if there's some great conspiracy out there. Not sure sometimes if its goal is to make me remember or to make me forget. I wonder if *it* knows which.
Of course that confusion inn itself is enough to invalidate a conspiracy theory, if such theories followed any rules of logic.
Facebook has decided I would like to like all your damn ol' wrestlers pages. I don't know why they are doing that, and it stabs me in the heart with every suggestion. I have never liked any wrestling page, and very few sports things. My friends who like those things have liked them all along, so it's not like a new possibly shared interest that has come along.
All I can do for now is to ignore them as best I can, and hope the stab wounds are scratches not gashes.
In the meantime, I am glad the gas station moved across the street and into the bigger store. I couldn't stand the Little Debbie aisle in the old store. The brownies made me cry.
So did the Vienna Sausage display, but there was no way I could avoid that. It was on the endcap by the cash register. Dunno where those are in the new store.
But someone donated me several cans that I thought to keep for Hailey.
She won't eat them either. Nor hard-boiled "pappaw" eggs.
Funny, when you ate so little and were so particular -- although maybe that's why -- that some of our biggest reminders are favorite foods. I haven't made beans and cornbread since your funeral.
I miss you, baby. I miss trying to tempt you into eating; I miss you enjoying what you would/could eat. Maybe someday I'll be able to eat a Little Debbie fudge brownie (not the cosmic brownie) in your memory.
Maybe someday I'll enjoy it again, if and when I do.
Today is Tammy's birthday -- her first without your phone call. She's missing you so badly, and I can't help her either.
You were loved.
You are loved.
You are so very missed.
Of course that confusion inn itself is enough to invalidate a conspiracy theory, if such theories followed any rules of logic.
Facebook has decided I would like to like all your damn ol' wrestlers pages. I don't know why they are doing that, and it stabs me in the heart with every suggestion. I have never liked any wrestling page, and very few sports things. My friends who like those things have liked them all along, so it's not like a new possibly shared interest that has come along.
All I can do for now is to ignore them as best I can, and hope the stab wounds are scratches not gashes.
In the meantime, I am glad the gas station moved across the street and into the bigger store. I couldn't stand the Little Debbie aisle in the old store. The brownies made me cry.
So did the Vienna Sausage display, but there was no way I could avoid that. It was on the endcap by the cash register. Dunno where those are in the new store.
But someone donated me several cans that I thought to keep for Hailey.
She won't eat them either. Nor hard-boiled "pappaw" eggs.
Funny, when you ate so little and were so particular -- although maybe that's why -- that some of our biggest reminders are favorite foods. I haven't made beans and cornbread since your funeral.
I miss you, baby. I miss trying to tempt you into eating; I miss you enjoying what you would/could eat. Maybe someday I'll be able to eat a Little Debbie fudge brownie (not the cosmic brownie) in your memory.Maybe someday I'll enjoy it again, if and when I do.
Today is Tammy's birthday -- her first without your phone call. She's missing you so badly, and I can't help her either.
You were loved.
You are loved.
You are so very missed.
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