Friday, February 6, 2015

Broken Fritter Friday

The best apple fritter in Oklahoma City

I've been dreaming about an apple fritter all week and today was the day to indulge my craving. The teenage counter girls were smiling and ready to serve when I walked into my favorite neighborhood donut shop. I was a little late for work, but glad that I missed the morning rush.

The glass case was nearly empty "Ah man, you're out of my apple fritters?" I whined as I bent down slightly, to peer into the abyss of empty plastic trays littered with the sprinkle debris and sugar glaze crumbs. Apologetically the clerk answered "Well we have one left but it's broken." I eagerly cheered "Yay I'll take it! I'm gonna break it anyway when I eat it, I don't care!"

The counter girl cheerfully bagged my broken fritter as her coworker told me that the customer before me wanted two fritters, but once he saw that one was broken he didn't want it. I said, he's stupid! She giggled and agreed "It was meant to be yours!" 

My donut gal casually added 4 bonus donut holes to my bag. I knew she wouldn't charge me for those; her Mom always puts an orange glazed donut in my bag because she remembers that I love them. Now you know why it's my favorite donut shop.

Driving to work, I savored my donut holes, like they were the appetizer for my breakfast. I wondered how many experiences we'd miss if we accepted only the 'perfect ones', especially the people and relationships in our lives. Everyone's cracked, misshapen, broken in some way and to me, those are the most intriguing parts of us. That's where we find our commonalities if we're tolerant enough to  love despite the imperfections...especially our own. 

I'm thankful for the people in my life who care about me, even if I'm a little crumpled and dinged up. And when they're brave enough to share the dents and scratches from their life's journey, I know we'll help each other get through this crazy life.

I've been there. I know how you feel. 

Can you help me figure this out? We'll get through it together. 

You're not alone. Forgive yourself.

Rose Marie B, (broken) Fritter Lover 


Tuesday, January 6, 2015

Organize 2015 Hits the Wall of Emotion

Day Three of my #Organize2015 project was 'free style Saturday'- there wasn't one particular closet to conquer but instead a day of doing laundry, changing beds, and gathering donation items.

4 bags for Goodwill, glorious sunshine pouring in through the window
On Day Four, Hubs made a trip to our local donation center while I made up the guestroom bed; my plan was to use it as a staging area for closet three. We pulled out some Batman memorabilia that would be relocated, Hubs chose a dozen ballcaps to add to the next donation bag (that was HUGE!) and then we hit the box.

School papers, baby books...the room got small, closing in on my memories and I couldn't go further, couldn't make a decision, couldn't wrap my heart around their childhood piled in a ratty old cardboard box or the fact that it was time to pack it up and hand over my treasures to the ones who created them.

"I can't do this today."  "It's okay honey, we can come back to it." And we will.



Sunday, January 4, 2015

Organize 2015, Four Days Strong

I've persevered through four days of my #Organize2015 journey...4 days in a row!

Day two took me to our second smallest closet just inside the front door; where a few coats lived, mostly serving as a convenient black hole, perfect for the cramming of misfit stuff.

A stroller from grandgirl #1 (who is now almost 6 years old), extra shelving for our DVD storage unit (that my Mom constructed 4 years ago) and posters...SO many posters, collected with the purest intentions of framing.

We had a poster problem, clearly. 
After some digging, lots of shameful head shaking and some alcohol-induced laughs...the entryway closet has been restored to the glory of its original destiny, including a repurposed hanging shoe rack, filled with freshly washed gloves, scarves and beanies that we'd almost forgotten we owned.
 
Before and After is SO fun! 

 There may be hope for us after all, 

Rose, Queen of the Closets