Second chances, same choices

The Bachelorette isn’t on Netflix.   Which is why I hadn’t seen an episode since the first season a decade or more ago.   And then a year ago, when Chris Soules became the man, I didn’t love being left out of the post rose office talk.  So I borrowed a friend’s Hulu login and joined the party.  And now I just can’t help myself.

Each season is gifted/plagued with a handful of seemingly genuine fellas, a few that seem to be misplaced and, of course, the requisite asshat.  JoJo may have been the most adorable and authentic bachelorette I’ve ever seen.  She had the usual misfits, some adorable ex athletes, and Chad.  Look, I’m a total sucker for beards and biceps but even I have no use for a tool of that variety.  Thankfully, with a little help from the other fellas, JoJo called him out and sent him home with all his protein.  Get him, girl.

Post send off, we gathered in our usual gossip spot to rehash the rose ceremony at work the next day.  Understandably, one of my female associates pointed out that Chad had just sealed his single fate.  No sane woman would ever accept a date from a man with such a steroid inflated ego.  One who was so obviously insecure that he was poised to pounce on an entire household of men in front of America.  After he cockily pleaded his case to be the next Bachelor during the After the Rose episode, where would ABC find two dozen ladies that were willing to vie for the hand of this season’s villain?  Where you ask?  Oh, just every city in America.  And basically a slew of beautiful, intelligent, and mostly lovely women would step up to submit they’re video application to be the chosen recipients of Chad’s adoration.  Except I’m certain he would be searching to find the female most willing to supply *him* with the adoration.  And also deli meat.

Because here is what I know about women: we are stupid.  Actually, that couldn’t be further from the truth.  But we are ignorantly hopeful and saintly or so sanguine about our nurturing nature that we think we can charm the ugly right out of any man.

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I see pineapples

June 20, 2016

Remember that time I gushed all over all things southern?  If you don’t, you can catch yourself up here to better understand my love affair with the south.  While honeymooning with #3 in Charleston and Savannah, I noticed a plethora of pineapples.  Pineapple flags hung on porches and peered out front room windows.  Plaster pineapples were focal points in archways while those of the copper and concrete variety sat atop fences, walls, and garden gates.  They welcomed you on doormats, knockers, and address plates.  And for those of you who haven’t noticed, there is a brilliant and beautiful pineapple fountain centered in Charleston’s famous Waterfront park.  I was both fascinated and smitten with the abundance and repetition of this delectable fruit.  Thanks to modern technology and Google, I quickly educated myself on the historical relevance of the Pineapple in Colonial America.

From what I found, good ol’ Chris Columbus brought pineapple back with him from the new world.  Europeans desperately tried to grow this fruit but could only do so successfully using greenhouse methods.  Due to the lack of abundance, only the affluent households could afford pineapple and offer it to their guests thereby making the pineapple a symbol of generosity, wealth, and hospitality.  As with all things rare, coveted, and expensive, the pineapple found its way into American architecture.  Pineapples were sculpted into wood and stone and could be seen both on the exterior façade and internal surfaces of expensive buildings and churches. Read More

Today

Schools out for my little people.  Which is equally awesome and chaotic.  There’s all this running about to summer and football camps and babysitters leaving on vacations and all of the ways that we attempt to keep kids active, entertained, and useful all summer long.  So I feel a little disconnected from my second life as a would be blogger.  When I started blogging, it was initially a place for the journaling that I began during what I thought was just recovery of an eating disorder.  A few months into that process, I recognized (through the help of costly professionals) that my behaviors were more of a symptom of issues rather than *the* issue itself.  Ultimately it became evident to myself and probably anyone around me that I really needed to work through something greater. Read More