Reminders

Someone reminded me this morning that I have a blog to keep up with.  I actually have 2 but one does not count unless you can actually figure out how to manipulate the damn thing.

My day has been filled with more sarcasm than the real world should ever have thrown upon it.  I am quite full of myself sometimes. My Momma says this is a defense mechanism.  My dear Momma never knew the art of sarcasm, just the art of guilt.  And never really thrust upon you the way some people lay it on thick and heavy.  She served it best by example.  Slaving away day in, day out to ensure we had the best of everything....she set the bar so damn high.  

I find myself looking at others with 'her look'.  It is never one of failure but of knowing that somewhere deep inside, is the ability to exceed even what you thought was unobtainable.   When I see her working so hard to just stay alive, I am reminded of the stock from which I was born.  My mother's family was beyond poor but rich in family.  I cannot say they were overflowing with love.  They had their moments but somehow the kids were always shielded from the ugliness of grownup ways.  I have cousins that would kill for me and not think twice about it.  I have one who sleeps peacefully in a cemetary and my heart aches for him.  He died defending a friend.

 When I see my Momma laying there just trying to breathe, I am reminded of how much she fought to keep me.  How when she was just a child herself, she decided to have me and worked two jobs to ensure we had everything we needed to live.  My name, Lucinda, is her gift to me.  She named me after her favorite girl nieces: Linda, Wanda, Cynthia & Rita.  

These next few weeks, months and holidays will be hard reminders of how much I have missed while trying to carve out a life and identity for myself to only be reminded that even if I fail, I am my mother's daughter and that I am loved. Always. 

Sweet Southern Memories

My Momma's health has been in decline over the last few years so it is hard for her to face being unable to prepare the traditional holiday meal for us.  It usually falls on my sister and myself to do the cooking.  It is wonderful to be able to do this but it never tastes the same as when my Momma cooks.  Never ever.  The lady can stand there in the kitchen, oversee the whole operation, but if she never picks up a spoon....nope.  Not the same.  

I am a sentimental person.  

This next statement will sound morbid but oh well.  When a family member passes away, I ask for something out of their kitchen.  A bowl, a spoon, a utensil, a recipe, especially the recipes.  

Coming from a traditional Southern family has taught me that true love comes straight from the kitchen. 

When holidays approach, I need to feel the love that transcends generations.  I have my Aunt Betty's casserole dish. My Grandmother's Depression Glass serving bowls, My Maw Maw's serving spoons.  These are the people I think of when I reach for this piece or that and do my very best to honor their memory when I serve my friends and family.

Each piece has a story to tell.

I hope my children pass these stories along.

My thoughts, you are welcome.

It occured to me that I have some things to say that, in my head, need to be placed on paper.

People are human.  We easily forget that.  

It comes with made up rules, religions, and common ground.  We all tend to flock toward those that believe the same way we do, laugh at the same things and grieve over the same things... on occassion. 

When someone makes a mistake, there are those who forgive even though they do not know how to.  We hold things inside until we are ready to explode and have no idea where it comes from. There are ghosts in our past and horrors that can fill the tallest buildings.  We all need our places to vent, release and turn the demons lose.  We need to learn how to forgive ourselves for whatever shortcomings society has placed on our doorstep.  It is never shameful to ask for help or to lend an ear but do so with heart and hope.

I have friends that are grieving the death of a marriage.  The impending outcome due to a loved one's battle with cancer. The child that has become ill with no hope of recovery.  We all have our challenges in life but how you handle the outcome makes all the difference in the world.  Fight a good fight and keep love in your eyes... always.  It is so easy to become bitter and angry.  There are some things in life that we never fully recover from but with time, the edges can become softer and easier to reflect on.  Find peace in those memories and embrace tomorrow.

Wednesday sucked eggs

I have no other way to describe today. I got errands ran, a manicure done but other than that, pfffft. I woke up with a migraine. Whine whine whine.
My family is going through a hard time but I have always believed we would stick together through thick or thin.  I have had to do some soul searching.  I realize how much I love my family and how much sacrifice people make & endure in the name of love. I have found my place in this world and it is a good feeling.  I hope the same for all of you.  If you are still searching, have heart. It will come if you continue searching.
Never give up or look back.

Spread the Sunshine

Once in a blue moon, I get up in a bad mood.  Generally, it happens when something has disturbed my sleep.
I love to wake up to phone calls from friends and loved one's.  It starts my day off right.  I think the first foot on the floor should be firmly planted in a positive light.
If you ever catch me in a bad mood, remind me that my inner smile is not showing and I will try to dig it out.  No one wants to surround themselves with sick-with-giddy happiness, that gets tiring.  I just want to spread my personal sunshine around and make your life a better day!
Now go out there and conquer your day!

Listening Is Not The Same As Hearing

I think once a day I just glaze over what I am being told or listening to either in conversation or on the tv/radio.  My mind is wandering elsewhere.  Usually dwelling on laundry I forgot in the washer, or trying to maneuver traffic in my mind. I do not want to confront the demons that sit right outside my door or across the table when I do not have the answer they seek.

How often do we listen to a friend telling their latest plight, only to just say "Uh-huh. Okay" ?
There are people protesting in cities but when I saw the last interview with the local organizer, he had no idea what their agenda was.  I sometimes feel the same. I am passionate about the fight but as far as exactly what we are fighting for or about, I haven't a clue.

I took on a job that I love only to have it modified and dictated to death. I have people who I desperately want to talk to about it, but I cannot.  I removed myself from the prime spot on the list to save a friendship and the friend doesn't have a clue of  the sacrifices I made.  That is my cross to bear.
 I just wish some people could stop long enough to listen and I hope I do a better job of doing the same.