We kind of talked about getting a dog… one day. With three kids and one about to be potty trained, I didn’t need another kid who needed potty training. But that one day came anyway and it came just a few days ago, and now we have a dog.
“Don’t postpone joy.” When I first read it, I couldn’t read it. It was a bumper sticker in scripty font that made me squint really hard to see what it said. It didn’t help that it was on a bright yellow car and the sticker blended in just enough to make it difficult to read in the morning light.
I realized I made a terrible, terrible mistake. Suddenly, and without warning, my eyes were watering, my nose was running, my mouth was tingling, and my chest felt as though I was going to split wide open into a thousand pieces. And it was time to go on air. If only I could take back the previous thirty seconds where I popped a hot and spicy snack mix into my mouth – multiple times.
Fried okra might be my love language. Not fried okra like you find at a southern cooking restaurant. No, fried “okry,” as my grandmama used to say. That pan-fried, lightly breaded, crispy kind of okra.