I brought my own microwave, thank you very much.
Filed under: Deep South, Everyday, family, food, health, life, writing
Let me explain how I came to own the microwaveable egg poacher, first. Then, you can make your judgements. I am, as someone once said, a "marketer's wet dream." I'm not sure if or how that could be considered a compliment, but when in doubt, I make everything a compliment, anyway, so... I like to think everyone in the whole world, actually, is talking about me, at any given moment. It makes me feel better. I can't deny that I probably have a problem, like a genuine problem, this time; I'm a walking bank account when it comes to clever advertising and bright...
Why I Don't Live at the P.O.
In Small Town America, you've got your churches (lots of them; 28 Baptist churches exist in my hometown of 3,000 people, alone), and you've got your grocery stores, which, in a quick-fire pinch, also serve as make-shift churches. They just follow a different line of worship, a la gossip and such. I attend the grocery store with far more regularity, I'm ashamed to say. But, it's only because there's no set, organized amount of time one must spend in a grocery store. There's also no special music, or altar calls. Those can tend toward embarrassment, from time to time. The gist of this comparision...
"I hope you're not wadding," she said.
Here is a list, far from exclusive, of things that aggravate me: people on cell phones behind the wheels of cars; vomit; I cannot stand pudding, at all, and other things that fall in that category include meringues and Cool Whip; individuals who misuse (or use at all) the conveyor belts in line at the grocery store, except when absolutely necessary; and cheap toilet paper. Again, this is far from an exclusive list. Of the things listed above, several have affected me in the last 24 hours. Last night I dreamed I couldn't quite get up this rather large hill. It was exhausting,...


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