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Showing posts from January, 2018

Don't eat the toast

Recently, I wrote a status on Facebook.  "Buy the shoes" was the sentiment from the picture.  I added:  "I'm not eating burnt toast, anymore" or words to that effect.  On reflection, I think I'd like to say more. When I was little, I ate toast all. the. time.  Now that I am older, and heavier, toast is a celebration. It's a carb, carefully and judiciously smeared with the tiniest schmear of light butter and savored quietly and slowly with my coffee.  It's often cold long before I'm done, but I dip it into my coffee.  BTW, people are discovering or have discovered the delight of a small amount of butter in coffee.  While you may wince, don't knock it, til you have tried it.  What makes me giggle, is that my daddy did this 50 some years ago.  That man was constantly ahead of his time.  Bless him. Back to toast.  It's so easy, in the early years to eat burnt toast:  you're learning to make toast, you are 6 years old....

Did you know?

Did you know... I always enter your home fearing the worst, praying for the best. I make your bed for you, sometimes I kiss your pillow before I fluff it for the last time. Your bedroom and clothes smell like Moonlight Path, it's a perfume that we shared. It's not your imagination. I spray it before I leave. I clean your bathroom, I muse over your new collection of toiletries, signs of the woman that you are becoming. I stock your pantry and your refrigerator. I pray you are never hungry for food or happiness. I vaccuum, not everytime, but when I do, I wish our past could be as easily erased. I never ever leave your door without locking it and laying a hand on it and praying hard that God will keep you safe.