I made a slight change to the wording on the header of this blog. It now reads more kindness, more full-bellied laughs, and more popcorn. Because that is where we are these days. Kindness is king around here. Not because it comes naturally to either my husband or myself. We’ve both had a bad case of sarcasm and cynicism for wayyyy too long. Nope. Kindness is not natural to our fleshy nature. Nor is it a virtue we ever gave much attention to. Now, it’s just necessary. We are having to check ourselves because of the healing needs of our youngest daughter. It’s tough to break old habits of bickering and criticizing “all in good fun” because “you now what I mean” and “that’s how I play.” Yeh. No. We have had to chuck that junk out the door. Welcome, King Kindness. Won’t you come in and show us the way?
Full-bellied laughs because FULL-BELLIED LAUGHS. They’re the best. Fake it ’til you make it or pee your pants, I say. Sometimes life can kick your can. That’s when you just have to laugh. I mean, turn off the news and laugh! Or in my case, walk away from the mirror and LAUGH. They’re just tears of laughter. Really.
Popcorn because apparently, I’m addicted. My body needed salt and oil. Definitely salt. And oil. salt-and-oil-salt-and-oil-salt-and-oil My delivery method of both became organic corn popped in a nostalgic kettle popcorn maker which never left our kitchen island because chowing down a monstrously sized bowl of popcorn became a daily occurrence for me and our little one. (Yes, our little one is 13 years old, never you mind!) Bonding time, people. BONDING TIME.
Little one and I aren’t so little anymore. Shocker! We’ve both outgrown our clothes within a few months time. Even my fat clothes are now snug. If I gain any more weight I will have to replace my entire wardrobe and mentally, I’m not up for that. THEREFORE, we had a discussion, my little one and I, and we put the cute, whimsical maker back in its cabinet.
Two days later we pulled it back out.
Then, we put it back in.
We pulled it back out.
We put it back in FOR GOOD. I’m serious this time!
My birthday rolled around and what do ya know?! My husband surprised me with a gift bag of …yeh, popcorn. We finished off those packs only to find another gift bag waiting for me the morning of Mother’s Day with two more packs of popcorn. Surprised, aren’t ya? I’m surrounded by enablers.
I laid down the law. NO MORE BRINGING POPCORN IN THIS HOUSE. NO MORE. Would you bring in a fifth of vodka if I were a recovering alcoholic? Would ya??? Huh?
I whined to my husband, “The popcorn. It’s making me fat.”
He laughed (as smart as he is you’d think he would know that it was NOT the time for a full-bellied laugh) and said, “I don’t think it’s the popcorn you have to worry about. It’s all that salt, butter, and oil you’ve been soaking it in.”
“Who asked you anyway?”
Just call me a grain-fed heifer.
Popcorn. It’s what fuels this blog.