Well, it looks like I can post by e-mail. I hope they get whatever the problem is fixed soon!
Got up this morning to find Moe smugly curled up on the sofa in the living room. After ripping my new, metal window screen to shreds. Moe, you’re about to become a kitty statistic. I’ve never dropped an animal off somewhere before, but you may be about to be the first. And with a full bowl of cat food on the porch! Grrr. Grrr. Grrr.
Thursday’s market was slow again. I took half my usual amount of goat cheese and still gave the last two away. This next week I hope to have a batch of feta ready.
My grandmother came to visit at the market with her new husband. That was a little surreal. It was the first time in about seven years that I’ve seen Meemaw, and it was only the second time ever that she’s seen DH, to whom I’ve been married going on seventeen years! It wasn’t, however, the first time I’ve met her new husband: that would’ve been 39 years and one month ago exactly when he caught me as I was being born. Yes, he was my mother’s obstetrician. That’s a little bizarre! And no, we didn’t remember each other.
So, Meemaw. Her short visit brought up a mess of confused emotions. Honestly, I don’t find her a very likeable person. And yet. She’s my grandmother. I am transported to childhood just by the sound of that exaggerated southern accent. I loved, loved, loved visiting her in Tallahassee when I was little; as the first grandchild I was sort of like royalty—little southern redneck girl becomes princess—but Meemaw was the queen. She truly believed that southerners were superior to anyone else—she viewed (views) “yankees” with a mix of revulsion and pity (when we moved to West Virginia a number of years ago, she was horrified: much of West Virginia fought on the side of the Union during The Late Unpleasantness) ; she is despicably and unapologetically racist; she is shallow and vain (and hates fat people: she has tried to bribe me to lose weight in the past); she’s very self centered and doesn’t like children. And yet she’s my grandmother. I guess maybe family gives us lessons like this. Like “she’s awful, but she’s yours, so deal with it”.
Speaking of fat, I weighed myself at M*’s Thursday night. Up until that point I was feeling so thin (not to mention cute and sassy) but the scale showed that I have only lost eleven pounds in three months of staying on this diet! (When I got home I took off all my clothes and my watch and weighed them on the kitchen scale, and I feel like I can take off another pound, so call it twelve pounds in three months). So now I feel fat again! Am I stupid? Anyway, at least I’m still cute and sassy.
Seriously, it’s sad how susceptible I am to what those little digital numbers say. And honestly I have to say that I’m not trying to lose weight for health reasons: I am very healthy, fat or no. It’s pure vanity, legacy of my grandmother, I guess. However, I guess it’s my body, and I can choose to be thinner purely to look the way I want to look if I want to. Just like getting a tattoo, or a haircut. It’s my choice, right? Ack: I’m a confused girl today.
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