Sigh.

Sigh.

I’m doing that a lot lately. Then I remember my breathing yoga-esque exercises and try to relax my shoulders and ground myself and think happy thoughts. Which ties into my Lent fast today.

I am to give up hate.

Now, this is a tricky thing. Those of you who know me are like, “Amy hates??? She seems so happy and carefree!!” and the ones of you who really know me are laughing hysterically. Because, in general, no, I’m not much of a hater. I LIKE stuff. I LOVE stuff. I attempt to look for the beauty and happiness in life.

But then….people. I like to say I’m an equal opportunity racist. I hate all people equally.

I don’t even hate my hate! I like to be angry sometimes. I think our rage protects us to a point. Like, if I didn’t get mad, my feelings would be hurt, and Lord knows my feelings are right there at the edge anyway. I’m the biggest crybaby there ever was. And some people don’t appreciate that, it’s seen as a weakness in the workplace, especially. So it’s better to be angry.

I hate getting sunburned but I like peeling the dead skin off. It feels so nice when fresh air hits it. It’s so satisfying to get a big long piece.

I hate peeling oranges but I love eating them. Same for crab legs. Barely enough joy to offset the aggravation of cracking legs.

I hate surprise nuts (ground up nuts in food). It’s either banana bread, or banana NUT bread. Please specify.

I hate mosquitoes, but I love bats and swallows. Would I love bats and swallows just as much if they didn’t consume tons of mosquitoes in their lifetime? I don’t know.

I love ponds, the turtles, and cattails and the duckbill that disguises what’s underneath. But I don’t love fishing in them because I always get hung up in the muck or a log. And they’re a breeding ground for the above-mentioned insect.

I hate people who come here illegally. I hate the ones who try to change our language, our religion, our right to keep and bear arms. I hate that they get free healthcare and social security benefits that taxpaying citizens pay out the nose for. I hate that they drive the crime rate up, whether from committing crimes themselves or driving others to commit a crime towards them. Pay your taxes. Just because we pray publicly does not mean you have to join in. Just don’t make a spectacle. Close your eyes and meditate. I don’t care what you do, but keep your mouth shut and show some respect. I hate that due to affirmative action, minorities have a better shot at getting certain jobs due to their heritage. Seems to me that’s the very defintion of discrimination. But I love the work ethic of some of these people. I am proud that they aren’t above laboring in the heat or the multitude of dirty occupations. I like the new foods that have been introduced due to this influx of people. Examples include: tacos, cheese dip, aguave tequila, and maybe curry (I’ve never tried it, but I’m feeling brave). You have come here. Please adapt, or in the very least keep your opinion to yourself, or go back where you came from.

I hate Yankees who come down here and complain about the way we do things and the way we talk. I love Yankees who embrace our customs of good manners and dawdling in the grocery store and carrying on conversations with complete strangers.

I hate it when people don’t wave when you let them out in traffic. I have nothing to love here, except the sarcasm in my head when trying to come up with reasons I would love it.

I hate Alabama fans that live in Tennessee and refuse to keep their obnoxious fandom properly hidden YEAR ROUND, but especially in the face of 110,000 wearing orange and singing Rocky Top at the top of their lungs. I love that they think we don’t hate them, truly, in our hearts and souls. I love their ignorance, because that runs deeper than pure stupidity. Bless their hearts.

I hate a liar. I love that they think they’ll never be found out and I love the look on their face when it is exposed. I especially love it when you can slap the face that’s spewing the lie. I hate that some will never pay for their lies here on Earth. I love that a much worse fate awaits them at the pearly gates.

I hate McMansions on a half acre lot. I love when people take on an old house and embrace the character, committing to bringing it back it’s former glory.

I hate eye twitches and hiccups. I love when they quit.

I hate exercise, but I love it when it’s over. And I love that I forced myself to go, and give it my ALL because why would I half-ass it when I’m already there and committed? I love that I can apply breathing techniques from yoga to real life situations when I get anxious.

I hate saturated fat, but I sure do love french fries.

I hate when people mistreat dogs, because I love dogs. And dogs don’t deserve it. They love unconditionally. And I hate when people relinquish old dogs because they don’t want the vet bills and added responsibilities that come with caring for an older dog. I’m not talking about extraordinary measures, I’m just talking about dogs that aren’t attractive and spry anymore. Ones that maybe need a little more upkeep with better food and assistance with getting up and down stairs.

I hate Bradford pears, but I love that it gives the honeybees something to work. I hate allergies, but I appreciate the fact that allergy shots make a difference….if I would take the time to schedule them and go. I’m thankful my allergy pills make a big difference in the meantime.

I hate that I cry so much, but I love that I have a heart that cares.

I hate people with no personality, sense of humor, or passion. What’s the point? Can you not find anything to be excited about? Or at least feel strongly towards? I love their even keel and am envious that they’ve seemingly turned off their emotions. Wouldn’t that be nice to have control of?

I hate most of the new music, but I love that I can jam to music I love and grew up on anytime.

I hate people who refuse to educate themselves on both sides of the story and try to call themselves “open minded” but they are just trying to conform to this new era of b. s. labeled tolerance. I’m not tolerant, and I’m not sorry. I love when people practice love, and listen, and try to offer insight or gentle suggestions on improving your way of life without being pushy about it. I love that someday they will learn the hard way.

I hate that I’ll soon be forty and don’t have the life I thought I had secured. I love that this experience has opened my eyes to blessings I may have overlooked otherwise. I love that my Lent challenge is taking it a step further. I hate that I had the experience I did, but I love that I’m reconnecting with some that I thought I had lost forever. I’m glad they aren’t afraid of exposing their hearts again. I love that I’m comparatively happy and definitely healthier than many of my friends and associates.

Sigh.

Sigh.

Breathe.

Breathe.

It can always be worse. Just look around. I heard once that if we all threw our problems in a pile and saw what everybody else was dealing with we’d jerk ours back out quick fast and in a hurry. I have no doubt that this is true. I have it pretty good, as life has shown me. And when the chips are down, you just have to remember blessings are right around the corner. We are probably being saved from something much worse for the bit of heartbreak and hardship we are enduring. Remember that. REMEMBER.

Hello God. Gotta pull myself up from my bootstraps sometimes. Gotta think about others and how my worst problem is barely a blip compared to some of the things going on in this world. It is highly unlikely I’ll be shot at today. I definitely won’t be starving. I have a home that is safe and warm. I have friends who care what happens to me and love me in spite of my faults. I know you. You know me. I can read my Bible in peace, without fear of persecution. I don’t have to walk to get where I’m going. I can turn a faucet and get clean water. I have TWO great jobs that I love. I have use of all my faculties and limbs and I feel pretty good, really. I’m thankful I can pray to you, anytime, anywhere, for anybody and anything. Today I pray for Whitney. I pray that she sees her blessings clearly, and that she continues to go forward with a grateful heart. I pray that she keep her optimistic encouraging attitude in all her endeavors and people she meets. I ask that you show her favor among her coworkers when it is time for an advancement, promotion, and raise. I ask that you look over her and her family and bless them abundantly, and keep them safe from wickedness. I pray for happiness and light-heartedness. I also pray Whitney becomes a better cook when it comes to southern dishes. A little bird told me she was having a wee bit of trouble with pork chops. I pray that Minor’s pallette will broaden, opening him up to new flavors and textures. Please don’t let him starve, Lord. I pray for their future together and to let your graciousness abound in their lives. In all this I pray. Amen.

When Whitney came into my life, I was fully prepared to keep her at a distance. I would go so far as to say I did not want to like her. I had gotten attached to Ashley, the girl she was replacing while on maternity leave. Whitney seemed to pale in comparison to my friend.

I could not have been more wrong.
Whitney and I soon became the singing and dancing sensation of the Co-op, performing on demand early of the morning and at a memorable Christmas Party. John had gotten ran over by an alpaca that day while on a farm visit and we felt led to sing a little ditty.

Whitney is the definition of quirky. I love her dearly and she’s helped me in many ways. She’s thoughtful and fun and intelligent and quick. She’s encouraging and energetic. She’s frugal and funny and wonderfully weird. We are both terrible at pool but totally talented at drinking margaritas on patios.

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy??? Glad you’re here, whatever this is.