Monday, April 28, 2014

Several reason why I love my brain

Most of my 'writing thoughts' pop into my head when I'm in the shower. Lately I have been letting them run amok, they smack into the inside of my skull and remain splattered there, completely useless. But the last few days I let some of them form into complete thoughts. So my brain and I have been on the same page for a couple days. Which is a good thing, I've missed my imagination. So much so that I'm contemplating wearing a fashionable helmet.
Every one has to die at some point and I'm hoping that when I go my brain stays intact. In my will I shall leave instructions to my children to preserve my brain some how. Pickle it in a jar and stick it in the back of their fridge or if I can win the lottery I will have them cryogenic-ally freeze it and donate it to science. I decided this in the shower this morning and made a list as soon as I dried off. At the top of the list: Preserve mommy's brain in the name of science.
There are other reasons why I love my brain. I made Milky Way Cakes for Easter but remembered that the last time I made them they didn't rise very well. Days before the baking I said to myself,
"Put some baking powder in the batter."
My brain retained that golden nugget of information and when I was mixing the batter it over-rided my circuit board, sent me a subliminal message and made me see baking powder instead of baking soda on the recipe card. I think the cakes were better than last years.
This brain of mine also has, not one annoying song that sticks in my head, but an entire playlist. At any given hour of the day one of numerous songs can randomly pop into my thoughts rendering me an idiot. How cool is that?
I also have the ability to retain useless information but I can't remember why I wrote that one on my list.
The characters in my novel have been protesting the fact that I have ignored them. They have been in my head for years, if I don't finish telling their story I fear my head may explode. It is amazing how attached I have become to them, I guess only a writer can understand this. Or I'm completely crazy.
So there you have it, I may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, just ask the nuns, but I still love my brain.

Friday, April 25, 2014

Happy Easter, don't judge

I feel like I'm finally catching up to the rest of the "Jesus has Risen/Bunny hiding eggs" celebrating people of the holiday that is Easter. I hard boiled some eggs Wednesday.
When Easter Sunday rolled around sooner than I was ready for it, I found myself and family at my parents house for dinner. My sister-in-law made deviled eggs and I didn't. I felt a little bit guilty while I was eating them so I only ate two or maybe three. I think it was four. Usually both of us bring a plate of them which is a sufficient amount for the size of our family. In my mind I ruined Easter dinner and will live with the guilt for about a week. Then next year I will redeem myself and remember to bring a plate of deviled eggs. I will deny the fact that I failed in the egg portion of our meal until somebody brings up this post and waves it in my face.
Thursday I made myself a plate of deviled eggs and ate half of them for dinner. They were delicious.
I'm sure there is some reason why we Christians celebrate Jesus dieing for our sins and rising from the dead simultaneously with a giant bunny that comes to your house in the middle if the night, hides eggs and fills baskets with chocolate, plastic toys and jelly beans on a bed of fresh colorful plastic grass. The plastic grass that finds it's way in every nook and cranny of your house. When you move your couch to find the remote, not because you are cleaning under there but because you are looking for something important, you find some of that grass. It's a little bit faded and you deduce,
"This looks like the Easter basket grass I used in 1996."
Jesus/Easter Bunny, there has to be some correlation. I just don't know what it is and too lazy to look it up. Hell I was too lazy to make deviled eggs. Yes, I was lazy, I didn't forget them. Don't judge me.