Hannah

hannahfinal

This past weekend, I spent some amazing time with some of my favorite people. (I will blog on that later)

One of the perks of hanging with my favorite people, is that sometimes, their offspring enter my atmosphere. Generally speaking, if I am kicking it with you, you are cool, and therefore, your kids have a higher chance of being cool as well. I can deal with cool offspring.

One of my tribe, A, birthed a super cool kid named Hannah. (Kristina, you are the bomb-diggity as well, but Hannah specifically asked for a shout out)

Let me give you one example of why Hannah is a super cool kid.  Hannah works for a movie theatre. This conversation took place as she was heading out to work on Saturday-

AGS: Hannah, can you bring me some popcorn?

Hannah: You want some popcorn?

AGS: Yeah, I would love some movie theatre buttered popcorn!

Hannah: I will bring you a tub of popcorn!

Hannah leaves for work. Hannah has a break a few hours later. Hannah does the following:

Gets her movie theatre popcorn bucket.

Washes it.

Goes to a popcorn machine.

Has a fresh batch of popcorn popped, and holds the tub up so the fresh popcorn falls directly into the tub.

Places hot, liquid butter in one takeout cup, and popcorn salt in another.

Brings the HOT popcorn, butter, and salt to me on her break.

 

Seriously?! Can a kid be any cooler?! (had it been a 6-pack of Taco Casa tacos, I might have possibly had a spontaneous orgasm)

*Tacoma, if you don’t know what that “O” word means, ask A.

Hannah recently turned 18, which means she was permitted to be my Facebook friend. She was very excited about reaching this milestone. My Facebook has settled down a lot since A considered it a too dangerous place for her under 18 children. I hope Hannah isn’t too disappointed.

So, this isn’t a blog where I have a rant about something. It’s a blog for my Hannah, because she asked for a shout out. Hannah, I hope you are happy with how I have immortalized you.

You are loved. I don’t do straight vodka shots to celebrate just anyone’s 18th birthday. I also have never offered to get ordained online so I can marry anyone, so consider yourself & Skylar elite. Stay in school, don’t do stupid things, be nice to people, and don’t text & drive.

Readers, I thank you for your patience if you have read this far. I don’t have to rant in every blog. Also, know that if I am asked to give a shout out, I take it seriously.

So until next time,

AGS

Sabbatical is over.

i-am-back

What a sabbatical.

I checked. My last blog was posted on September 19. Let me explain why.

This blog was designed for me to have some place to vent (basically bitch) about whatever got under my skin at any given time.

Enter the final months of the 2016 Presidential Race campaigning and social media.

Holy *. For the first time since I actively began using Facebook and Twitter, the amount of vitriol and hate mongering reached epic proportions.

A little background: I grew up in a house where anger & arguing were like taking a breath. It went hand-in-hand. “Fool!” “Idiot!” “Ignoramus!” “Stupid!” All words I heard uttered on a constant basis. There was always shouting to accompany the cornucopia of name calling. When I was growing up, it didn’t have the fancy label of “verbal abuse” yet. (I was born in 1968, but that last sentence makes it sound like I am a dinosaur)

The constant conflict was why I chaffed at the bit to get the hell out of my childhood home.

I always swore an oath to myself that I would NEVER call anyone “stupid”. I also swore that any children I might have, would be raised to think of “stupid” as a curse word that you did not utter under my roof.

*Note: I successfully raised 2 sons who do not use the word “stupid” in reference to others. Ever.

So, fast track to the present time, my childhood helped shape me into a person who hates conflict. Literally. I abhor it. It is even worse when I am forced to witness conflict between a man & wife. It makes me literally cringe and want to crawl into a hole and die.

I write a blog where I bitch about things. I was going to be adding negative, albeit in a humorous way, to the whole “jacked the hell up” news feed that I dreaded seeing each day. I just couldn’t do it. I did not want my blog to be another piece of negativity, to another person who might be as bothered by the current state of affairs as myself.

Tonight, I got a kick in the ass, from my most narcissistic friend. He said “Hey! Blog woman. That is a command, not an identifier.”

He was right. I do need to get my mojo back. The election is over. I have less dread checking out social media. The world is ready.

(He also might be slightly less narcissistic than he was a few months ago.)

I digress.

You really didn’t miss that much in the 50 days I was MIA. My oldest son turned 25, and I saw a dead body.

Oh, the dead body? Always leave them wanting more they say.

AGS

“Your past does not determine who you are. Your past prepares you for who you are to become.”