Meemaw.

My grandmother passed away on Tuesday. The truth is, I think it was a freeing thing for her to go.

Yesterday, I was thinking about Meemaw, the one that was here when I was a kid, before dementia and Alzheimer's and strokes and those things. She was marvelous.

I was thinking about this one purse I have. It is white, and it is made up of little pieces of metal. Like armor, kind of. It used to be in my grandmother's closet. She had an incredible walk-in closet that went back clear to the wall, and some days––only some days––she would let me have a fashion show. I would try on her shoes and her purses and her necklaces and walk the runway of that walk-in closet. We would giggle and then sit on her bed, looking at the pictures above it, one of every grandchild.

More often, when we didn't fashion show, we played a game of Meemaw's own invention. There was a looooooong hallway behind the kitchen. At one end Meemaw would set a basket. At the other were Meemaw, Logan, and me. (Me a little closer because I was the smallest.) Meemaw gathered every clean pair of socks she could find, and we played a simple tossing game, points for sinking a sock into the basket. Looking back it seems like that would have bored me to death, but Meemaw made it fun.

She was a special lady, and she loved us so much. She made such a big deal out of her grandchildren, whether it was reading us stories or making us a pallet on the floor out of blankets, she always did so many extra things to make our time at her house special. She made skillet cornbread and Mississippi mud pie and lasagna, and her freezer always always always had chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. And she always always always made us ask Momma before having a bowl.

Want to know the best part? Whenever I would go over to my grandparents' house for dinner, no matter what she was serving, Meemaw would cook me one individual twice baked potato. Because they were my favorite. That's love.

She was a dream and a half, Vira Kennedy. And I'm glad she's free and with the Lord.

Here is her obituary. It makes me very happy: Meemaw's Obituary.

BBL.

That's right. I am blogging again, for the second time in one day. What of it?

I decided I needed a list. I needed a list, and I need [you] to know about it. Whoever [you] may be. This list is my Being Becca List. Is there a word for list that starts with a B? Because I love alliteration. That is part of being Becca. I looked list up in the thesaurus. No Bs.
So, I am realizing that I waste a lot of my days. Some days I am listless or tired. Some days I am just lazy. But. I really want to remember this time. And I want this time to have been great. So I am making a list committed to doing me and to making me do me. Please don't make fun of me for how lame this probably is.

Being Becca List.
1. Take pictures. I think I might try to start taking at least one picture a day. So that I can remember.
2. Exercise. This is just because I am not feeling healthy lately, so I want to do better.
3. Blog more. Not for you, silly goose. I like to get my ideas out, and to say a few things, so I am going to start blogging just to say regular things.
4. Pray.

Maybe this is not an amazing list to you. It is not an amazing list to me either. But I think in lists, and lists help me think. And there is that, my friend.
Here's my dinner.

The end.

Tuesday, 2/19

Good Morning.

I am at JJ's again. I love this place. I paid the meter this time, which is something I almost never do. I'm about to begin doing homework. I have a lot.
I went home this past weekend and it was a delightful delight. Mostly I got to hang out with my best friend Taylor. I am her best friend, too, in case you were wondering. But so is her stuffed giraffe named Shadow, and the alligator she sat on at the library named Shadow, and her van named Shadow. I am probably her best friend that is not named Shadow. But actually probably not. She is pretty popular for a two-and-a-half-year-old. But I am honored that she usually remembers the difference between me and Haha, and that before I come she worries over whether or not I will be wearing glasses.
You probably don't understand how much I love that little piece of pumpkin pie.
Also, I saw her parents, and we played a Sherlock Holmes game. Also, I saw my parents and my brother and my church, and my friend Kristin Riley. It was all around a good stay. I saw my grandma, but she was very, very sick. That was the sad part of being home. But it will be okay. She is doing much better today.
Yesterday I pretty much entirely missed my half birthday. But, I woke up happy this morning. And rested. I love that feeling. I wish I spoke Spanish entirely fluently. I am very jealous of those guys who do.

See you all next time.

BMK

This is Just to Say.

Here are some things!

I planned a great prank this week. What you do is you go to someone's computer who is writing a paper and you change a bunch of the words to other words that won't show up with a red squiggle under them. For example, "One small example of how these premises will morph to fit our future needs..." equals, "One smell experiment of how theses promises will mufasa to fir our feature needs..." Only, Mufasa will probably get underlined and blow your whole cover. But he's worth it.

Another thing I thought of is a Lenten season movie. It is a comedy to bring some levity to the somber season. It features Danny Kaye as a deacon who misplaces the palm leaves from the previous Palm Sunday, so he is running around trying to find something similar to burn. But, his overseeing priest, Bing Crosby, is inconveniently always around. Then they both find love and the palm leaves, but only Danny can get married. But Bing finds solace in song. And Jimmy Stewart is there giving one of his loving monologues to a girl. "It-it-it's like you bathe in holy water, Mary. I can feel it when I touch your fingers and y-your hair, and I can see it in your eyeballs. I love you, Mary. Oh goldarn this Lenten season! Just kiss me, Mary."
(Sorry if I overindulged myself on that one. I really like those three guys.)

On a similar note, I went to Ash Wednesday mass yesterday. I really enjoyed it. A song we sang said something like this, "More sparing let us make the words we speak, the food we take." I had not thought of Lent as a time to make our words more sparing, but I think it is a beautiful idea. I am trying to ascribe to that, but we all know how hard that is for me. I think it would be a lovely way to celebrate. Silence is careful and special. But mostly it feels scary for me.

Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.

Happy Valentine's Day!!!

Friday at 4:59 PM.

"Tears will flow, I'll beat myself, but I'm too proud to ever change."
This is from a good song I know. Sometimes it is how I feel about my behavior. I regret things so much, and mourn over what I have done, but I don't so much change or get better.
Not always. Sometimes I do great.
I was just thinking about the times I don't do great whilst listening to this little ditty.
Why is it so hard sometimes to love people that you love so much?
How come the one thing you don't want to say comes out anyway?
How come you convince yourself not to trust people that you want to?
This makes me sound sadder than I am.
I'm actually pretty happy right now, just real tired. Gotta get some sleeps. It's okay. I also need to stop feeling so many feels. But ya know, sometimes there's a lot of feels to feel!
If you want to know more from that song here's some: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FJ-PkkdC7oA