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Apr 21

A Good Sandwich

I made the decision before I posted Tuesday that I honestly felt there are somethings that need to be written no matter how private the topic feels. I believe it for so many reasons ranging from it is therapeutic for both the writer and the reader going through the similar thing to some pretentious high handed ideals I won’t go into. I didn’t get much feedback on the post but I know one person liked it and that is enough for me.

There are many other deep gritty emotional blogs I need to write. My soul is brimming with bubbling emotional topics that I need to lay bare in front of the world. Okay, I can’t even pretend to be that over dramatic but there are other things that I think would be good for me to write about. I have one topic for sure. Not today though. Today I am going to write about a damn good sandwich.

This morning I was puttering around thinking of things to write. I had my coffee and Doctor Who was on BBC America (Matt Smith makes a pretty good doctor in my opinion.) I got up up and made a sandwich for breakfast. I know it is an unconventional choice but we all know I am a rebel. Anyway, it was really good roast beef with feta cheese crumbles between thin slices of asiago¬† cheese bread. So let me reset the scene, Me with coffee and God’s own sandwich watching Doctor Who. One of the things I am very blessed to have is the ability to see awesome moments in my life while I am in them. Coffee, sandwich, and Doctor Who was one of those small, simple moments.

I started a white trash container garden. I am growing two kinds of summer squash, cucumbers, and watermelon in pots in my yard. I have discovered I have a talent for growing seedlings. I have also discovered that I am way too attached to my seedlings and container garden. There is something satisfying about growing something and watching change from day to day. I have a freakish attachment to these plants though. I talked to the seedlings when they were growing on my table and now I go look at them every day just to check up on them. I have spare seedlings that I don’t have room to plant. (I had no idea that it would that my seeds would grow so well.) I cannot bring myself to throw them away. I know it is ridiculous. I texted my sister that some people drink after a bad break-up, I apparently plant strange vegetables and get unnaturally attached to them. I am not sure which method is healthier mentally but I know mine is cheaper. Anyone need some seedlings? I don’t know what is what anymore but just think of it as a garden surprise.

I know this seems like one of those “joy is in the simple things” posts. Honestly it probably is. Truth is, though, I have to believe that to survive right now. I know some people that thrive on competition or acquisition or stability. I thrive on hope. I learned that I am happiest when I have people to love and take care of and I have hope. I still have many people to love. I am not strong enough to have hope about love. I know all the platitudes; there is someone for everyone, many fish in the sea, blah blah blah. I see real love around me. I know it exists. It just hurts too bad right now to believe it will happen for me. So I bolster myself with the joys of great simple moments and the hope that a white trash container garden presents. I know I am a massive dork. I accepted this long, long ago.

Don’t judge me!

 

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