Years from now, if I get to survive to the years from now point in my own history, Easter 2013 will go down as to what I try to refer to lightly as the Great Ham Vs Turkey debate.
I am trying to focus on the food and other allegorical points in my family’s history, because, although my family gets major snaps for being supportive, they are not so good about not blowing a gasket when they read something they don’t like in a blog, article or Facebook post.
I have truly horrifying headache. I think it is the cumulative effort of my frustration with my slightly deaf GP and his less than on the ball staff, and the fact that I am still burping up my own rage (I choked on that last time, remember?) It’s Baby Mama meeting Big Mama weekend. I wish that was all I had to say about that, but it’s not. Part of what I have to say about that is that I do not at all understand how someone else’s mistake can rob me of my own family, and that it is entirely possible that I had a stroke so that I will know for sure that you don’t necessarily die when your life is yoinked out from under you. It’s confusing to me, too. I think the headache is brought about by the fact that all of this word vomit has been bubbling under the surface.
Venting prevents explosion