Naiadknight's chronicles page 543

[namelesswonder]

It really SHOULDN'T surprise me because my best friend in high school was 5' and would put up with no shit. It was a good combo, with me being very low in the self-confidence area. And we often joked about me taking some of her boobs to even us both out.

Cocoa and red meat intrigues me, kind of a "sour & sweet" thing in a way. That dinner sounds AMAZING.

[naiadknight]

The cocoa powder wasn't sweetened, just straight dutch processed cocoa. It turned into almost a mole' flavor, but it would've need more chiles to do that. The sweetness came from the pilaf and apples.
I had a friend I was like that with in HS. I took (take) nothing from anyone and she was a bit low in thr self confidence arena because of what rheumatoid arthritis and its drugs had done to here body. She had a chest Barbie dreamed of and I was flat as a board. We complemented each other well. I'd stick up for her and she'd take up for me if I was having a really depressive day.

[naiadknight]

Dinner tonight was garlic grilled t-bone, pepper poppers, and grilled peaches.

[longing2bfit]

Just wanted to do a driveby and say hi

[naiadknight]

hi l2bf! Bye l2bf!

[naiadknight]

My mother goes in for her laparoscopic hysterectomy tomorrow. I'm already stressed enough and this doesn't help.... wow that sounds selfish. She sent me a text earlier that she agreed to work tonight, so she's only going to get a couple hours sleep. They know she has an early surgery and they have the audacity to ask her to work. Fuckers. There's not much of a chance of complications (1.7%), but because my grandmother died of uterine cancer, I'm wigging a little. I'm sure she'll be fine, but all the same, these audio images of a phone call from dad confirming my worst fear right now (that somehow she dies in the OR, even though I know how low that risk is) don't help. You'd think I was the one going into surgery and not mom, the way I'm tweaking right now. As much as she's screwed me up, she is my mom, and I still have that childish hope/ belief that she'll be the only person to live forever, or at least past when I bite it. I know it won't happen, but coming face to face with her mortality isn't the way I wanted to deal with it, even if the complication percentage is so low. That, and some of the shit that led to the need for the hysterectomy was some of the crap grandma had before the cancer, and grandma somehow got uterine cancer after a hysterectomy. I've also experienced some of the crap that put mom on the path to this surgery. I want to dodge both of those bullets. Great, somehow, this turned to where I'm whining about how it affects me again when she's the one going into surgery. I swear, I'm not as self centered as that. I'm just worried about my mom, even though logically, I know she'll be fine. Surgery has not been kind to her in the past.
She's also trying to help fix a bridge I'm not sure I want to fix between me and my middle sister. My sister burnt it when she was in 6th grade or so, and kept fanning the flames up until fairly recently. I tried so hard to keep my side of the bridge up and in good condition for so many years, but when she married scumbag and then went to jail rather than rat him out, I'll admit, my side of the bridge kind went to shit. She's now officially divorced from scumbag (because she saw what he did to her, finally), and supposedly trying to rebuild her side of the bridge. Unless she grew up in a whipfast hurry in prison, I don't know if we'll ever get back the friendship we once had back then. That friendship went away when I had to grow up PDQ and she never did, not even when she should've (like adulthood and such.) She burnt the remainder of that bridge by holding a massive grudge against me because I accidentally broke her arm. She reminds me a LOT of my grandmother, and in none of the good ways. I may try to rebuild that bridge, for the memory of my grandmother. I'm just not sure I'm willing to deal with that heartbreak of her still being a child yet, or finding out just how far she's grown up. She's the one I failed at raising that got sent to live with my grandmother after middle school. I know, with only 2.5 years difference between us, I shouldn't feel like I failed her in raising her. But I do. I'm ashamed of how badly I failed her. She's one of the few projects I've taken on in my life and completely bombed. She's the reason I've shied away from being an actual mom for so long. She has ADHD, maturity problems, and behavior issues. What if I create another Cassie? What if I screw that child up like Mom screwed me up or like I fucked Cassie up? That's one of my darkest fears, is creating another Cassie or something worse and then failing horribly as a mother again. I think that's also part of the reason I haven't rebuilt my side of the bridge yet: fear. I don't know how badly I screwed her up, screwed her over, and I don't know if she ever grew up. I'm afraid to find out.
I'm afraid of a lot of things right now, apparently, and none of the boogeymen go away when I turn the lights on. I guess that a sign of being a grown up: I have boogeymen that don't melt in the light and I go on with my life anyways.

[Twibble]

*hugs*

[naiadknight]

Two spammers. What did I do to earn such discredit? They can all make a spammer army on a pulsar.

[theprimalcajun]

big hugs naiad & sending positive healing vibes for you & your mom. And sister.
we're here if you need us!!

[naiadknight]

Feeling better. To make it up to y'all, I'll show you an image of the ranch I got married on. The ceremony itself occurred 10' to the right on the horseshoe pit in the photo. This is a bluff overlooking the rest of the ranch. What I was told is all the land you see in the photo, the family we rented it from owned.


Also a photo of my father and I as we danced to Monty Python's "Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life." As proof that I was barefoot before I was Primal, check the glimpse of foot under my dress. Ignore my father's clothing, he was head chef (by his own desire) at my reception. Those are his equivalent of chef whites.