An April Rambling

I’d just finished folding laundry when the ceiling light in the bedroom flickered and went out. I looked at the light and tried to remember if it’d been on already or if something funky was in the wiring. I switched the audio book to silent and listened but I didn’t hear anything. Honestly, I should’ve known then already, but I went out into the kitchen to check the stove and sure enough, everything had gone to sleep. Curiously enough, I only thought, Oh no, now we’re going to have to buy food because I don’t carry sandwich fixings.

I was texting my husband of the new developing electricity situation when the oven woke up and beeped at me. It was only then that I remembered I had the dryer going and possibly electrocuted the wet clothing when it popped off. I don’t know if this is possible or not. Thankfully, both washing and drying machine had finished their cycles before they went to sleep. Also, the ceiling light in the bedroom had been on before it flickered.

This morning I decided it was time to stop procrastinating and write a blog post. One problem, though. I had already dashed off two poems and was clean out of any interesting openings and continuing paragraphs. I finally decided it was better if I lived my day out first and then perhaps the material would plop into my head. I did accomplish a few things and am rewarding myself with a bottle of water and a sit on the couch beside the large cardboard box. I would’ve eaten a chocolate bar instead but I ate that earlier in the day before I began accomplishing. By the way, the cardboard box contains a wok heater for my husband. He’s very excited. A bunch of men from here are planning a Memorial Day cookout and of course we must take the one thing we’ve never used in our life and make food in it. I have suggested trial runs to him.

I suppose I could summarize March in a few sentences since I didn’t blog anything for that month. It was a month of poetry. Thirty-one poems out the hatch and now my google documents are full. Seriously. According to the red warning signs I am out of storage and will either need to buy more or delete. I don’t think either is a good idea and have moved on to the new journaling app iPhone came out with a couple months ago. Anyway. Back to March, because all the document stuff happened this morning. My folks came out for the weekend and then that very same week my brother and sister also appeared. It was a fun week and I collapsed on all stations when it was over. I seem to remember rare days of sunshine and not so rare days of rain. I also told people I loved them, especially the ones I’ve hardly ever told even though it’s true.

This month I’ve been having extreme mood swings and I don’t know if they have to do with the weather or my inability to handle society. I think it’s both. I’m doing good when I’m alone in the sunshine.

I also outed myself as autistic which was simultaneously the bravest and scariest thing I’ve done in a really long time. Yes, I’m self-diagnosed so I don’t have a paper from the psychiatrist but it’s still valid. It’s been amazing to understand my mind better and to have reasons for the quirks that were less quirky and more weird and stood out from the rest of the world. I love the affirmation I have for myself after feeling like no one has ever understood me. I’ve always felt like I was abnormal and wrong and weird and I’ve always—since I was of young age—wondered why I didn’t make sense to other people why it didn’t work to use the strategies and coping tactics they used in life. Gotta love being neurodivergent. Also, big big thank you to everyone of you that have supported me on this wacky journey. I love every one of you and you’ve all made me cry at least once, from happiness.

I told one of my friends I’d bake her a cake for her birthday and here it’s almost May. I hate going to town by myself for anything and I’m out of flour. I thought I’d be able to go after Nick came home from work. Instead, my husband informed me that his friend was coming over in about an hour and oh yes, could I pleasyweasy make rice and beans for them.

In the end, the stories of my husband’s teenage life were exactly what I needed to defunk.

On Thursday we’re leaving for Missouri for a wedding; quickstop at folk’s for the night and on to Missouri Friday morning.

I’m trying to be okay with the fact that the cake takes two hours and thirty-five minutes to bake and assemble and I probably won’t ever find that niche this week, which is terrible. I know. Really, Linda. Don’t promise to do things that you then cannot deliver before the deadline. To be fair, the friend did not set a deadline so I’m actually quite safe, but my expectations are somehow more disappointing to fail than anyone else’s.

I’m still working at Yoder’s, bakery once a week, and deli/sandwiches once a week. That equals two days of no energy once I get home. I love working in the bakery and slightly less love in the deli. Come on. In the bakery I’m working on my own, (mostly. I’m still being trained in) less people, less noise, more focus on the matter at hand. It’s the closest I’ve gotten to a dream job for myself.

And of course, the husband is still where he’ll probably be until he clocks out of life at 66. No worries, he said it himself.

We’re also working at moving into a much older house in the country. I’m very excited but to the chagrin of my husband, have not yet managed to display my excitement in a normal manner. He doesn’t think I’m very excited because I’m quiet about it. I feel like this has to do with people telling me to shut up when I got loud about something I was happy about when I was a kid. (Unexpected trauma dump.) To reiterate, I am happy. I am excited. Does the bold font convince you?

Wow this is getting really long and I still haven’t started on supper. Neither is the husband home at the expected hour so I’m not going to care. I’m going to make chicken in some sort of roux with fresh tomatoes—sadly no cheese because we’re out—served over a bed of rice. Speaking of, why do they say a bed of insert food choice? Are we gonna sleep in it? Maybe some cereal for dessert. Oh I know. Honey drizzled over brie dabbed on crackers. Doesn’t that sound sophisticated and cultured?

A delightful week to you all. Thank you for being here. Much love.