What IS That Smell?

Oh, dear readers, have you ever asked this question?

You smell something that's not quite right. You light a candle, or spray some air freshener, and move on.

Then, it gets worse.

Your apartment begins to reek.

You take out the trash, de-stink your sink, change the cat litter, light a candle, and move on.

Then, IT GETS WORSE.

Now your apartment has an odor you can only liken to Dementor's breath. And you CAN'T. FIND. THE. SOURCE.

You know the call is coming from inside the house - you just can't seem to figure out where.

So, if you're me, you employ your ridiculously attuned Scooby Doo super sniffer and start searching high and low. Yes, I have sniffed every inch of my apartment.

And then you find IT....


Let me take you back to Sunday night. I am a big believer in sales, so when I found turkeys at a huge discount after Thanksgiving, I bought one and froze it. Frozen stuff really only keeps about 6 months, so since it was coming to be that time, I roasted my turkey Sunday afternoon. I carved up the meat, put it in tupperware, and put it in the fridge.

Now you're thinking, "oh, she must have dropped a piece of meat somewhere and it started to spoil and smell."

Not with a catfish-type dog around. That would be too easy.

Then, being a student of my father's frugal, "use every part" ways, I boiled the carcass to make stock, then drained off the fat, strained the broth, and froze it.

Now you're thinking, "oh, she didn't get rid of the turkey carcass. That's what smelled."

If only it were that simple.

After three days of worsening smell, I found IT.

You see, while boiling my turkey carcass, apparently the boil got a little crazy and began spilling over the sides of the pot, where it began to drain UNDER the drip pans on my stove and POOL IN PUDDLES OF NASTY beneath my cooktop.

Yes, that smell, that God-forsaken, dead fish mixed with Satan's rear end mixed with other nastiness smell, was rotting, fat-laden turkey broth.

Half a bottle of Fabuloso, 39 paper towels, 6 gags, and a little candle burning later, and the Dementor's breath smell was gone.

Only me, y'all. Only me...

The Best Friend a Girl Can Have

Five years ago today, I fell in love with a boy in a picture.

Sure, he was furry and only 8 weeks old, but I was in love.

Sure, he cost the same as a down payment on a Honda, but he was worth it.

Four weeks later, I lied to my parents (because at 19, you do that) and flew halfway across the country by myself, armed with a pink and polka-dotted dog carrier, a blue alligator leash and collar, and a heart full to bursting.

 

I never stood a chance against this face.

I have yet to find a single situation that he can't improve...

...Christmas...

...sick days...

 

...Easter...

 

 

...hikes...

 

...Halloween...

 

 

...waterfall jumping...

...Saturday errands...

...St. Patrick's Day...

...lake days...

...this little guy is everything.

 

 

And I couldn't be more grateful that he's mine.

 

 

The Time I Got Blown Over By Grace

Y'all, I am not one of those women who goes to church regularly. My grandaddy Jack was the most inspiring minister I have ever heard, and quite honestly, I can't find someone who can really get the message across better than he could. So although I occasionally attend, I usually find myself talking to Grandaddy when my heart needs to feel God.

This morning, I was overwhelmed. I don't really know why, except that I know it is related to my feeling alone. Probably 4/5 people who know me would, if asked to come up with a few words to describe me, probably use the word "independent." My mother said I turned 30 on my 3rd birthday. She's probably right.

I made a decision to end a relationship a couple weeks ago; while it was the right one, it didn't keep it from hurting. I hate hurting other people, and I certainly hate knowing I made a mistake. I am also very much a person who, deep down, needs other people. And I love to cuddle. This makes being single a very tricky business.

I fill up my days with schedules - I wake up at the same time every day, I go to work, I go work out, then I go home and love on my critters, and maybe go out with friends. I go to bed around the same time every night. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. I am not one of those folks who laments "never enough time for yada yada;" I have plenty of time.

I don't lament a lack of people in my life; I am blessed by many wonderful friends.

I don't lament a poor family life/upbringing; I have been surrounded by family since my first breath whom I love upside down and inside out and who love me.

I don't lament my job; I know I am blessed beyond measure to work for a great company, especially with the unemployment rate in Georgia still hovering around 9%.

I lament a simple thing; a partner. This is hard for people like me to admit - I want to be fine. I want to be great on my own. And I know I am. It's just something my heart longs for. But I know it's not up to me. Timing is God's, and His alone. And it isn't time.

There is much work to be done.

For some reason, Grandaddy came to talk to me this morning. He whispered in my ear something he would always say to me when I was little and moving way too fast, near about ready to hurt myself or break something - "Slow down, Slopjar!"

Slow down, because you're missing it.

Slow down, because this is important.

Slow down, because you have exactly what you need right now.

Slow down, because "the LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still."

I got annoyed this morning with another driver - he/she (I never looked) was riding my bumper, swerving lanes, riding other folks' bumpers, just in a big ol' hurry. And I found myself muttering, "slow down, crazy." And here I am, not 3 hours later, needing to be told the same exact thing.

Moreover, there are only about 5 or so songs that can make me cry. Two of them played on my Pandora in the last 30 minutes; I wept silently at my desk. Someone's trying to tell me something...