Why Some People Call Me Grouchy

I hate grocery shopping. I hate planning a menu. I hate making lists. I hate trying to find the cheapest things. I hate putting the groceries away when I get home.  And I hate trying to make sure they all get eaten in the appropriate fashion before they expire. Today in church we read aloud together Psalm 139 and I love the way verse 22 reads in the King James Version: “Yea, I hate them right sore; even as though they were mine enemies.”

I know that verse wasn’t talking about grocery shopping, but I’d still like to adopt the old English. Because I do hate it right sore. To the very core of my being. I get no satisfaction whatsoever from planning meals for my family. And the thing that’s so weird about that is that I really like to cook. I really do. AND I really like my family. I think it’s the planning thing I hate. If I had my druthers, I would have this charming little market down the street from my house. It would be outdoors, with trees and flowers everywhere, a pond in the middle, live jazz music playing and girls would ride there on their bicycles with baskets while wearing flowing skirts. Me? I would walk with my little market bag with birds on it over my shoulder. I would walk there every morning and sit and have a cup of coffee by the pond. Then I would amble about, swinging my empty bag, every once in a while throwing in some food item that catches my fancy for that day. And my fancy changes multiple times daily, which is why in my perfect world, I can go with my fancy. Then I would walk home with my five to ten newly purchased, fanciful items and I would begin creating. I wouldn’t even care about lunch. I would spend all day creating and every night would be a feast with a beautifully set table and candles, complete with something chocolate for dessert. There would always be dessert. I wouldn’t even mind doing the dishes in my perfect world, because it would be so lovely to have it all clean again so that I could start over again tomorrow.

Yes.

But then again, that doesn’t leave much room for work or school or homework or choir or drama or church or driving all over kingdom come every day of my life. Or laundry. Or family, for that matter.

It’s funny how personalities evolve when they have to. I hate making lists. But I make them because I have to. Otherwise I would never be able to keep up with all these people that I love AND I would go broke. And I really do want to feed them somehow.

But I still hate menus and grocery shopping and lists. Yea, I hate them right sore.

Simple City

Well, I know many of you thought I was done blogging. Silly you.

You probably also thought I deleted my blog because I was done blogging. Sillier you.

No, our %&!@#$ host deleted us, my husband and I. Wiped us off the face of the internet, never to be thought of again. Didn’t apologize or even give us any options. Just sent us a refund check. It’s a little disconcerting to have your entire history erased like that. Lucky for me, I had some semblance of a backup made. Luckier still, I have a brother in law who is also a genius who was able to take that semblance and retrieve all my posts and comments. My husband was not so lucky.

I’m just grateful to be here, even if it is a new address. And I think I’m even grateful that I’m just here on the free wordpress site now. It’s a lot easier for me to figure out. I mean, I’m no longer able to put all my mad webpagemaking skillz to work with stuff like green backgrounds, but hey. It’s free, you know? I think I even appreciate the new simpleness of it all. It’s just me. Doing what I do. Here.

In all my simplicity.