Thanksgiving, Love, and Green Bean Casserole

About 30 years ago, I got married. Now, it’s been a while since I’ve been a Newlywed. But some memories will never fade.

Like how much I love green bean casserole. I have since a friend of mine made some for me in college. I’m half-Asian. I grew up with fried rice and noodles. And very few casseroles. I would occasionally encounter one at my Aunt Jessie’s. My dad’s side of the family are from Kansas and are salt of the Earth people. But our trips to visit family back in the day were expensive. And therefore, few and far between. As a result, I never had green bean casserole until I left to go off to college.

An obsession was born. I liked it classic and I liked to mess around with the recipe even back then. Adding in chicken or changing the mushroom broth up. All of that. It wouldn’t be until the latest decade of my life before I would have another green bean casserole revelation. Making home made mushroom stock. And homemade cream of mushroom soup. Using fresh green beans and just fresh ingredients all the way around. This adult version taste nothing like the classic and a thousand times better.

Because of my love for green bean casserole, I made it ALL THE TIME. And my husband ate it. After a year into my green bean casserole obsession, my husband FINALLY told me he hated green bean casserole. That he threw it out when I wasn’t looking. But he never said anything because he didn’t want to hurt my feelings. And he thought he could ride out my obsession, but the sheer amount of green bean casserole I was making was making that possibility impossible. So he came clean.

And that’s when I knew he loved me beyond reason. Well, I knew even before that but this cinched it, for sure.

I don’t make green bean casserole so much anymore. Just once a year. At Thanksgiving.

It’s Been Thirty-Five Years

This coming Monday. It will be my 35 year wedding anniversary.

We eloped. And got married in a little blue church. And on Monday those vows will have been in existence for thirty years. It’s almost unbelievable.

It’s not all ups. There are tons of downs.

It’s about perseverance and grit.

And love.

The everyday kinda of love. The every way kind of love. It’s making love both a verb and a noun. It’s about showing up everyday. Rain or shine. Mostly in rain. Because when it’s sunny you always want to be there. It’s also finding something in showing on rainy days.

Writing about love and sex is impacted by experiences of real life. There is a joy in knowing all the nuances of an adult relationship. And being able to convey on the page to others. There is a fullness to a love interest which has developed over decades and not days or months. A rich tapestry that maybe isn’t in a shorter lived entwining.

Is there a secret to a relationships longevity? I’m not sure. I think I’m just a bitch who doesn’t like to admit defeat. About anything. Most especially about my life partner choice. Because he’s the bomb. Don’t think I’m the only one showing everyday. Nope, he does, too. And it has to be that way or it doesn’t work correctly. You can’t have just one person in a two person tango being the sole wanter of the dance’s success. You need them both to care. Deeply.

Or it could be that I supported him and he supported me. As long as you can afford it and it doesn’t go against your morals, when your partner wants something… you should just say yes. You should be the facilitator of your spouse’s ability to dream and strive and try stuff. Not the person harshing the mellow. If you can’t afford it, say no. If it’s immoral, say no. Otherwise. say yes. Why not? And why would you be anything other than totally supportive if it’s not a financial burden and it’s not a bad thing.

I don’t have huge amounts of words for detailing why we’ve made it when so many others haven’t. But we have. And if the last thirty years are any indication, I’m pretty confident if I live another thirty years, it will be with him. He just rocks like that. And we fit. But that could be because we grew up together and became adults married. Or it just could be that he has a nice ass.

Migrating Some Stuff Over

In the upcoming months, I am migrating my writings on another blog over to my blog. I want to keep my content as mine.

If you feel like you are experiencing Deja Vu, you are. Or it could be a glitch in the Matrix and you are living in a real life simulation where we are live action role playing so that Aliens can eat our energy. Or our planet’s energy. Or whatever that reason is that is the foundation of these types of stories.

I will try to add in new content as well. Especially with my installment piece.

Enjoy!

~D

Check your Ta-Tas

pink ribbons on pink surface

I know it’s the end of the October… almost. I know that it’s been awhile since I posted… but still, check your ta-tas. It’s that time of the year; it’s that time in this month. 2016 will live as a year in infamy for me. I hope that you check your ta-tas and that 2020 isn NOT a year that lives forever in your memory.

I had a scare this month. I normally get my boobs checked in August. Which is the month that I received my cancer diagnosis. But for various reasons–Covid–well that just didn’t happen. Instead, I got it this month, of all months.

And I noticed a small spot of skin change about six months ago. I decided to keep watch, in case it was just radiation damage. But about three weeks before my mammogram of my old boob was scheduled, I felt a hard lump under the spot with the skin change. Well, two things make alarm bells go off in my head. So, I asked them to check it out as well. Thank goodness my gynecologist had included additional ultrasounds and biopsies and stuff on her order. Because it allowed the radiologist to check that spot, mammogram my DIEP boob, and do an ultrasound guided biopsy. All this with just a few days. Which is AWESOME-SAUCE.

Don’t be afraid to point stuff out. Don’t be afraid to be the squeaky wheel. You might be a pain in the ass. But you will be a pain in the ass who is ALIVE.

My biopsy came back negative.

It is my wish that this is your outcome as well. But it can’t be if you don’t schedule and attend to your own ta-tas.

MY POV on RWA | Fall Into The Story

Nora Roberts coming down on the side of righteousness.

 

Source: MY POV on RWA | Fall Into The Story

On implicit bias and white privilege — Rosalie Stanton

More RWA mess

 

Source: On implicit bias and white privilege — Rosalie Stanton

The Implosion of the RWA — Claire Ryan

Source: The Implosion of the RWA — Claire Ryan

A Piece of the RWA Puzzle | Kink Praxis

More RWA shenanigans

 

Source: A Piece of the RWA Puzzle | Kink Praxis

Own Voices Guest Author Mercy Zephyr: Fear Fed My Words | Limecello

Back in 2016, my spouse and I revealed to our friends and family that I was a woman with a husband, not a man with a wife as previously assumed. Unsure of myself and afraid, it was difficult to gather the courage to reveal that part of myself…

Source: Own Voices Guest Author Mercy Zephyr: Fear Fed My Words | Limecello

Reflections of a Lived Life

I just recommended the Artist Way by Julia or Julie Cameron to a friend on Facebook. Now, most of the people on my personal FB page are friends from high school. I went to a weird, freak high school where people have stayed in touch with each other over the years. We still have a pretty good turnout for both kids and teachers at our reunions. Although, they’ve gotten grayer as the years have moved on.

Dating

I stumbled on the Artist Way due to a recommendation from my bff. It literally was a necessary thing at a period in my life when I needed it. I wrote stream of consciousness in the mornings for almost three years. Probably longer than I thought I needed, but looking back far shorter than I should have. My mother’s death, wherein I went into a deep, dark depression fora few years probably could’ve benefited from journaling every morning. I forgot during that period as I was in survival mode. I wish I had kept up the writing so it would’ve already been there. I have given a lot of thought to getting back to it.

I still take myself on dates and buy myself presents. I spend ALL of my $10. I leveled up from $5 because inflation, yo.

Weirdly, the one other thing which has helped my mind is an amalgamation of a short story I read in 9th grade and something I read many years later. When I was in 9th grade, Mrs. Sinclair, who was my 9th grade English teacher gave us tons of short stories throughout the year. The one I remember in relation to this thought was one that was a science fiction. It was about the invention of teleportation. Humans has invented a teleporter. But in order to have living things alive from one point to the other, anything alive had to be put to sleep. So, you are put to sleep, you are teleported, and then you wake up. Less than a minute or two. A smarty pants boys wanted to know how and why a person had to be asleep to teleport. So, he took drugs or somehow concocted to stay awake during the teleportation. He ended up completely insane when he arrived on the other side.

Although the teleportation took only a second or two, the human mind when it teleports and doesn’t have a frame of reference perceives it as infinity. His brain had live an infinite amount of time… alone and in a vacuum. He came out insane. In case you have figured it out by now, humans are community species. We are built to live together with others. otherwise, bad things happen.

The second thing which hammered this home was Stephen Covey’s first 7 Habits book. I don’t remember anything else about that book today. But I remember this: Infinity resides in the space between action and reaction. The old ways of doing something doesn’t need to be kept because you have all the time and choices in the world as you sit in that space between the initial action and the attendant reaction.

When you put that together with the short story, you get a complete thought, in my mind at least.

Now, when you put all this together, using stream of consciousness writing to help your brain gain more time between action and reaction. Making that period of time go in slo-mo.

Anyway, I woke up this morning thinking these things and thought I would share them with you.

Infinity resides in that space between breathes.