Friday Flotsam

FREDEEEEEEE.

You will NOT believe what happened to me yesterday. You will NOT.

So, we’d been dehydrating a bunch of tomatoes and peppers from our garden out in the garage. Our dehydrator is the size of Rhode Island, so we stuck it out there this time, to free up some space inside. You know.

So anyway, a few days pass and we’d all but forgotten about the peppers and tomatoes out there. Oopsie. Aaron brings in the big machine and puts it on the kitchen counter. He’s like, “These are waaay dry. I’ll let you decide what you want to do with them.”

Me, “Okie doke, sir.”

So like, about an hour later I’m finally able to start cleaning the kitchen, and I move the dehydrator to the stove. I’ll get to it in a sec, right?

So then, once everything was cleaned up and put away, I grab the dehydrator (which is a stupid word to spell), and start taking off each tray, removing the waaay dried goods and placing them into baggies. No bigs.

I get to the bottom of the dehydrator, which is all crusty with fallen seeds and a bit sticky with juice from who knows WHAT, and omg. OMG.

O.M.G.

A GIANT CAVE CRICKET JUMPS OUT AND ATTACKS MY FACE AND LIFE.

Do you KNOW what a cave cricket looks like? Do you even KNOW? I know I’ve talked about this horribleness on here before, and why must I do it again, but I have to. A cave cricket is pretty much the evil hybrid of a possessed grasshopper and the death angel. It’s HUGE. It’s TERRIFYING. It’s nothing any naked eye should have to see. Ever.

So this THING just reaches out with its nasty claws and unhinges its jaw towards my face and I freaking lose.my.ish. There I was, on the floor, wrestling with this beast for my LIFE, both of us drenched with blood, rolling around like Peter Griffin and that dang chicken. I’ve never screamed so much in my entire life, you guys. I am absolutely positive that I scarred Will for life with my maniac meltdown. (life life life)

However, Natalie just stared at me. I think I heard her cheer on the cave cricket at one point. She better not check her college fund status this afternoon.

I don’t want to tell you how it all ended, because it’s pretty graphic and disturbing. But I will say this. Blow torch + exorcism + garbage disposal + meditation + power washer + prayer group + therapy for life.

I blame Aaron.

Oh! So we had book club this week. WHICH, if you follow me on the Snapchats, you’ll know it didn’t end up being at my house. Instead, they wanted to take me out for my birthday, so I was like, haaaail yah.

We all decided that we’d put in a vote and decide this weekend. I put in It Was Me All Along. I had no idea it was about a food blogger! It sounds good. I’ll let you know if they go for it, or if they shoot it down and ban me for life.

I’m going to switch MAJOR gears here. It’s allowed though because Friday.

On my birthday date last weekend, Aaron asked me what my word of the year would be. For some weird reason, it took me less than the past participle of the first quarter divided by the nano molecule of half a second to answer with, REAL. I just want to be real.

It’s not that I’m not already real, because I feel like I am for reals real. BUT, I also know that in this overly polished world we live in with social media down our throats, it’s so easy to get lost in what’s real and what’s not. And beyond that, it’s way too easy to lose yourself in all of it.

You know what, I’m 39 years old. And I’m just going to say it. I’ve got some body issues. We all do! But instead of comparing myself to the stunningly thin gals on Instagram with flat abs and perky tatas, I’m just going to appreciate what my body has done for me. What it’s given me. I still have a lot of work to do in areas, but I just can’t stress it, ya know? I have to be real. I have to let go of this WHY DON’T I LOOK 25-thing. That’s straight up silly. I do good for myself, with running, and those arm workouts YOU ALL gave me. (so thanks!) This isn’t to say I’m not going to obsess over new neck creams and face serums and anti-aging cave cricket lotions (PATENT PENDING). BUT, I gotta stay real and know I’m doing just fine. Life has no room for fake. No time for delusional carbon copies and plastic existences. Gotta just do my thang.

My best friend Laura wrote this beautiful article for Thoughtfully magazine about aging. She just nails it on the head. While it’s more about our exterior and its battle with time and gravity, I think her message goes waaaay beyond. Much deeper. And you know what, it keeps me real.

Okay this just got way too serious. Boob! Fart! Toot!

Weekend plans? Besides deleting me from your blog reader?

(OMG I just heard right now that it’s Leann Rimes’ birthday today. Get this, the other night she posted my Frito Pie recipe on Instagram, told me it was yummy, and then it was some gossip website. Hahahaha! Oh, celebrities.)

(that was a boring story.)

(sorry.)

(bye.)