Author: hannah.ananas

Un Cauchemar

Have you ever had a dream that seems to shake you to your core?

One that seems so real, it is difficult, at first, anyway, to determine that it was not actually real, but just a dream?

And, though I said dream, I more meant nightmare…

Last night, – rather, early this morning – I suffered one of these nightmarish, lifelike dreams.

I live in a house that also houses a religious space (like a chapel, but of a different faith) and a yoga studio.

This morning, starting very early, long before sunrise, there was a special morning meditation being hosted.

I was not attending, but I knew about it – similar morning meditations happen regularly.

However, after some recent events, in which one person who comes here regularly did not follow proper protocol for arriving, for cleaning up, nor for closing up after classes, I now always have a slight concern regarding this person’s reliability to fulfill the necessary tasks to keep the location, and, therefore, myself safe.

And so, last night – early this morning, after a potty break around 1am – I had an odd combination dream.

I was living in a different house, but it was clearly meant to be this same house, with me in my top floor apartment/area.

It was this morning, and I awake in the dream to find that no one informed me of the fact that the morning meditation was taking place on the top floor – aka in my room, which is not community space, mind you – but several people have already arrived and are participating in the morning meditation, and my things have all been moved out of the way and rearranged while I was asleep.

It is dark outside, still, due to the early hour.

Eventually, I participate in the meditation, as well as in welcoming new arrivals, and helping them get set up to join the meditation.

At some point, the meditations is ending, but I have to leave, possibly to go to work, and so I am not present for the end of it.

When I arrive home later, everything has been moved in my room to all new places – yes, even different from what had happened early this morning – and nothing makes sense.

Two people are still in my room, and comment, clearly somewhat bothered, on the fact that I am moving my bed to elsewhere in the room (aka where it had been in the first place).

One of the people is that unreliable individual.

I am too tired to care, and I need to go to sleep, because I know I have another very early morning the next day for the gym and work (as usual), so I go to bed and to sleep, while they are still discussing plans for something or other, still in my room for whatever reason.

I fall asleep rather easily, as I am so tired.

Suddenly, hours later, I awaken with a start and a sense of near-panic, as all my hairs are prickling all over my body.

The two from earlier have left.

But someone is in here.

Someone I don’t know.

I knew instinctively that the unreliable duo had not locked the doors to the house properly…

I was in trouble, and I could feel it.

I turn to find a woman in black suit, hair almost shaven, her skin only a few shades lighter than her suit, and her face showing a terrifying emotionless expression… almost animal-like… something in the back of my mind mentions a wolf, like the one from “The Never-Ending Story” a typically I like wolves, but this one was not cool…

Her entire presence speaks and oozes cool rage and the explosion of a pistol – she emanates a silent, fear-inducing aura, and her facial expression never changes… she looks and somehow sees me, and I know she sees me, but she doesn’t acknowledge me… it is clear that she has known of my presence and has been waiting…

My brain processes quickly, and decides to aim for pulling of a guise of ignorant kindness..

‘Hi! You’re here for the event, right?! I’ll take you to it – it’s actually downstairs. I’ll show you. What’s your name? How are you doing today?’

I carefully take her left arm arm in a casual yet ready grip, and then hold her opposite hand’s thumb with my left hand, so it looks like we are arm-in-arm, and then holding outside hands across our bodies… really, I am being extremely sweet and physically loving as a means to keep track of her more effectively – danger is the feeling of her.

Somehow, in this piece of the story, there mixed in a small portion of my trying on clothes for the morning… I currently had on a jacket that I was not going to wear to work, because it was too restricting and tight… and I did not have on my knife, because I was only trying on the clothes, and it was still attached to my actual outfit that I had been wearing… my phone was by my bed, and I missed the chance to grab it when I first jumped up to grab her arm…

I was evaluating my steps, and found concern in my lack of safety, but I couldn’t let go of her now and turn back – I could feel how that was the wrong move, even more so than the others.

And so, we ventured downstairs, arm-in-arm, as I chattered away, and thought of what options there were for me.

No one was awake, so I would have to find a way to get out of the house or call 911 as soon as possible, but without alerting the woman.

I flipped on a light switch st we reached the kitchen…, except that it wasn’t a light switch.

It was a sort of fan, a loud fan… one that could muffle just about any normal sounds.

Bad move – get it off!, I said within myself.

As I reached back to get it back off, I almost lost grip on her.

Before I could get it off and a light on, she was slipping entirely from my grasp, and making a move, stepping away and turning toward me to attack.

Just as I was preparing to run for the knives and then out the door, – I was ready to spring – the real Hannah jolted awake in her bed, sweating everywhere, breathing heavily, goosebumps all over her body, terror-stricken…

It took the real me a while to realize fully that it was a dream – I had to check that no one was in my room… I felt immediately better knowing that I also had locked my specific door before bed.

I was filled with something akin to outrage at the unreliable individual, as I sorted out my feelings and my personal safety, figured out what was dream and what, if anything, was reality.

Even now, as I think back on it, I still find myself wanting to avoid picturing that woman’s face – its lack of expression was frightening, almost like possession…

And the reality of the situation, that someone’s inattention actually could put me in such a situation (because I go to bed reasonably early, and I don’t always get to check all the doors after everyone leaves at night), is still frightening, is still shaking me ever so slightly on the insides…

Even now…

Post-a-day 2019

Mother-Daughter

“Do you see me ever having kids?”

Mom considers for a few moments, then answers in all honesty, “Yeah,” nodding her head, which is tilted to one side, an after-effect of consideration.

“…I mean,” I whoosh my hands downward together, going from just in front of my chest to around the tops of my lazily outstretched legs, “… having kids.”

We both smile at this as I say, “Which is different from just having kids…”

I have discussed the idea of adoption much, and my mom has participated in some of these conversations, so she knows what I mean, and why I clarified.

We share a few moments of silent chuckling before she renews her, “Yeah,” and then we smile and chuckle silently some more.

We are at my friend’s baby shower.

There have been various games and activities throughout the evening, and she and I are sitting at a table over to the side, mostly away from the current conversation and action of the party.

She is filling in one side of the paper, on which was sentence starters regarding wishes and thoughts we want to share with the baby-to-be.

I have been casually adding to the other side on the paper, on which we had done a baby name game in which we took only letters from the first names of the mother and father, and had to come up with as many names as possible.

Some of mine were just words, but I wrote them anyway, as it helped the brainstorming process along, as well as added a funny aspect to the game.

(Examples of words: Barista, Tank, Narita, Kirin, Stink, Bad)

Though we weren’t in the current action of the party, we were enjoying ourselves, and also enjoying that we got to do it together.

When the gift-opening began, we stood by where we had been sitting, so we could see over people’s heads to the gifts and my friend and her husband, but without actually having to go sit in the mix with everyone else.

Neither one of us discussed this, of course – we each just did it naturally.

I think that part of it is a matter of our being able to comment freely on things, without having to worry about offending anyone, on the likely chance that we find something silly or tacky, or that we are reminded of something absurd.

Even if we each were alone at such a party, we likely still would end up in a similar location relative to the crowd and gift-opening area.

A bit later, just as I was stepping away to go floss-brush-floss to put my aligners back in, I commented quietly to my mom, “I love how, even though no one is here to hear is, we always have a running commentary going on over here.”

Before I’d even said the word ‘commentary’, we were both already laughing silently, but heartily, and she was nodding her head almost vigorously.

But it’s true – we always have a running commentary on things.

No, we don’t say it aloud when it could offend, and no, it isn’t always bad commentary – not at all.

It is merely commentary.

Usually, though, it is commentary that sends us both into fits of giggles at least a handful of times in an evening.

Until last night, I hadn’t realized that my mom and I shared this trait.

Yes, we share many things, and we have many similarities, but I had never noticed this one until last night.

Perhaps it was due to the fact that we had enough to say that we knew at least half the room would not find funny, and so dropped to more of a whisper on several comments, bringing attention for me to the fact that we were doing it in the first place.

And mind you, we don’t have nasty comments we’re exchanging – they just aren’t always event-appropriate.

For example, some people were discussing Disney Princesses and how they have advanced in diversifying the princesses, and how they might advance next.

My friend who is pregnant loves Disney, and had commented about dressing up as a Disney Princess before.

My mom and I exchanged the idea of, ‘Guess she can’t do that right now,’ and chuckled.

‘Yeah, teen pregnancy princess just doesn’t sound right..,’ and our silent chuckles increase, tears now considering making appearances in our eyes…

And then, upon further consideration, we add, ‘Unless Disney wants to take a big step in furthering its diversity, and somehow have a young, super-huge-pregnant Princess…., do a Juno plus Disney Princess… but I don’t think they’re ready for that one yet…’

‘Not for a while…’

Yes, the ideas are absurd.

No, we are not mean-spirited with them at all.

And, since people don’t necessarily know that we are merely brainstorming and thinking of different things, and then simply sharing about them with one another, they could become quickly offended, thinking we are trying to be rude or nasty in some way.

We love Disney and Disney Princesses.

We also know lots about the ideas to progress the diversity of them, and the struggles Disney has had with complaints regarding them.

We support the movement of diversifying the Princesses, but we also love the original Princesses, too, and understand and accept the reasoning behind them all.

We also find humor in just about anything – not in a bad way, but in a genuine way… we do not demean through the humor we find, but typically find increased fondness of the topic after finding that extra tidbit of humor in it.

Anyway, I’ll not bother with the explanations anymore – I notice that I’m worried someone will be offended – I already know that my thoughts offend people, and that’s a big part of why I tend not to share them with most people.

Perhaps that’s how we discover truly the people who love us: by sharing our thoughts with them, and their still showing up in life, without judging us harshly and leaving us out to dry, so to speak.

I’ve said for years and years that judging is natural for us – it is only human.

The difference comes in when we recognize that it is only a judgment, and not necessarily the truth.

At that point, we can choose freely whether to accept the automatic judgement we have made, or whether to set it aside and be open to discovering who and what a person truly is.

When people tell me, “Don’t judge me,” just before they do or say something seemingly silly or stupid or absurd, I often let them know something akin to,

‘I’m definitely going to judge you – I can’t not – but I won’t hold it against you in any way.’

Yeah….

Anyway, I’m off to bed.

I slept half the day today… my mom woke me by knocking on my door at 9am (I’d gone to bed by 11:30pm at the latest), I was tired most of the morning and midday, and then I passed out on the sofa around 3pm, only to wake up to eat some peaches a while later, and then fall right back asleep until around 6pm… and I’m still exhausted right now, struggling to get through this.

I guess my early morning workouts are taking more out of me than I thought, and sleep really is somewhat like a gasoline tank or rechargeable battery, able to be replenished at any time down the road, but demanding refueling after so many days of running on low-power mode… if that makes sense…

Anyway, goodnight, World… hasta mañana.

Post-a-day 2019

Flying solo

Riding home on my beloved scooter, having a slight struggle with the very outer edges of my eyelids, due to exhaustion, I considered:

This is the end of a very heavy week of work, the first full week of school since it started last week… It is Friday evening, and I want to go meet up with friends and do something to celebrate the completion of such a week of work… I want that happy hour evening, that friends dinner, that wine night or movie night or game night…. that night of friendship and release…

Instead, I am heading home to prepare and eat my dinner, to shower, and then to go to sleep… and I don’t even have anyone to whom to relay this information – I was not invited to any of those desired Friday evening and night activities… I’m not even sure who might have invited me if I were…

This feeling, this experience, I notice, is familiar… to when?

I believe to the last time I was teaching full-time in the US…

I work hard all week, throwing myself wholly into school (aka work), staying as late as it takes to accomplish everything I want and need accomplished for the next day or week, and then I head home on Friday afternoon, in an almost rush to free myself of the school and the feeling of needing to work…, and I head to where?

Home…. to eat and shower and go to bed…

I usually don’t mind doing this – in fact, I’ve done it multiple nights these past couple weeks, and I have been grateful for it, and have even turned down an idea of going to spend time with a friend here or there – I wanted to go home and be alone and go to bed to be prepared for tomorrow…

Fridays, however, have a way of reminding me that I am not normal, and of suggesting to me that I am missing out on one of the best parts of being an adult.

Personally, I loved having ultimate frisbee on Friday afternoons in college, where we all could release the stress from the week, free our minds and bodies, and have a wonderful time with other people having a wonderful time all together… and I long for something like this.

I did not activity (yes, I have made that into a verb here) with almost any of them outside of Friday ultimate frisbee, because we weren’t exactly friends, but we had camaraderie and mutual interest in playing ultimate together as a cap to the week, and that was all that mattered.

For me, it is the community aspect that I miss so much, the piece for which I long on a Friday night like this one.

My week has been good, but full of work and high schoolers, and I want some adult camaraderie and love now to finish off processing whatever my mind needs to process to be finished with the week…

I know that this is not what I would find at a bar, or with a group out drinking their troubles away.

It only minutely lessons the pain of feeling so alone in the world, however.

In these experiences of feelings of desperation at my own failure to have friends and activities for a Friday evening and night, (or any time, but they most often happen around Friday night no-plans nights) I notice an extreme desire to get anybody (almost, anyway) on the phone to talk to me…

But I know that it won’t fulfill what I am seeking, and so I make an effort not to call anyone – it seems somehow unfair to them, only to call them because I’m in need, not because I genuinely want to talk with that person in particular…

I don’t even call my mom, because all I really want is for her to hug and to hold me and make me feel loved, but I know she likely will be home, watching some show or other with my stepdad, and will want to get back to watching that ASAP – she is really usually only good for talking during the day, if I want to hang out with her over the phone (or in person)… it only would make me feel even less loved.

…….

And those were my ponderings as I drove home this evening, hoping to avoid the imminent rain storm that seemed almost too close for comfort on a scooter.

I did as I’d planned, visiting the grocery store after I swapped the scooter for a car, and then returning home for dinner and a shower, and then getting ready for bed.

I did end up calling my mom just a bit ago, but it was for a genuine question, and we discussed that briefly and then hung up, my lingering being quite minimal for once, as I was conscious of my desire to be with my emotions on this, and not to aim for escape by talking with my mom.

Alas, here I am, still having spoken to almost no one, but having listened to almost two hours of my current audiobook while I was cooking and eating and cleaning up.

And, mostly, I feel okay.

Yes, I still want to have someone with whom to check in, whom to love, and on whom I can rely to love me… so I don’t feel amazing, exactly, but I’m okay.

Better, actually, since I didn’t call anyone – this is a new step for nights like this one, and I think it is a really good step for me and my life.

And, on that, I’ll sign off, so I can stretch and read and sleep ASAP!

Goodnight! 🙂

Post-a-day 2019

Ohrwurm

Ugh…(!!!)

I played this catchy and somewhat annoying song that helps with greetings and basic phrases in French in French I class yesterday.

They loved it so much, they begged for an encore…, so we played it again….

And I surprised them with it this morning again…

They loved t every time, and they put genuine effort into singing along as best they could.

It was adorable.

However, I spent the entire ride home singing the song in my head on repeat… and the past hour since being home, too…

I am so over this song….

If only my brain would pick up on the matter… 😛

Post-a-day 2019

Story-time

Staring at the ceiling, slumped backward over the sofa cushion that had been knocked onto the floor at some unknown time in the evening, Ch—- inhales sharply, and releases in a heavy sigh…, “Man…, I wanna do something!” he declares.

“Like what?” responds C—, only half interested in his little brother’s response.

“I don’ know…. just something….”

M—- chuckles from his spot in a chair across the room, resuming his tossing of a Hacky Sack into the air over and over again with the same hand, having abandoned actually standing and kicking it around in the air half an hour earlier… Ch—- always says this.

“It’s not like we can actually go anywhere, anyway, Ch—,” M— reminds him, “seeing as how it’s already nine o’clock and all, and your parents have gone to bed.”

Ch—- is silent for a moment, reflecting, ignoring M—‘s comment.

“I wanna go swimming,” Ch—- says, “That’s what I wanna do: go swimming.

Let’s go swimming, you guys!”

“In which pool exactly?… None are open and, in case you forgot, we don’t have a pool,” C— calmly reminds him.

Silence.

M— speaks up, “Swimming actually would be pretty nice right now.. zI could totally go for a swim.”

Baffled, C— regards him, eyebrows scrunched together, raised.

“What?” asks M—, defensively, “I’m just saying I’m not against the idea.”

“Again, where would we be doing this swimming? Nowhere is open.”

“Too bad we don’t live near the ocean – the beach is always open!” Ch— chimes in, somewhat passively.

Silence…

C— turns to look at M—, then slowly tilts his head to one side, eyebrows raised…

M— regards C—, questioning at first, and then raises his eyebrows in recognition, drops the sides of his lips, and raises a shoulder, as if to say, ‘Why not?’

“Whadda you say?” asks C— to M—.

Ch— sits up suddenly, looking back and forth between the two older boys, jaw dropping in disbelief.

M—- smiles.

“Let’s do this,” declares C—-.

The three jump up, and each rushes to grab a few items, including the keys, use a bathroom, eat a quick snack before moving silently and stealthily toward the minivan that is parked in the driveway – their mother’s minivan and the only vehicle C— has started driving since getting his license recently.

An hour later, the trio find themselves on the Galveston beach, Ch— frolicking gaily in the sand at the water’s edge, while the other two take another hit on their unsophisticated and uncaring palates.

Ch— and M— share a drink or two, but they forbid C— from drinking – he is still driving them home later, and even the stupidity of the youth has its limits when dealing with genuinely smart and somewhat self-aware teenage boys.

By three a.m., they are careening back toward Houston, searching for a gas station with a vacuum to clean out C— and Ch—‘s mom’s minivan – it is filled with sand, though no one quite remembers when or how it all got in there – the haze of the fun was kind of in the way for them.

Eventually, they find it, and somehow manage to clean the minivan up really well, returning it to its nighttime place in the driveway.

Finally back home, the boys head silently into the back of the house, and lapse into total unconsciousness in the form of sleep.

It is five a.m.

At seven, their mom wakes up, and heads off to work, leaving the boys to their usual sleeping in routine, unconcerned.

When, after a week, no parent has mentioned anything, the boys begin to believe fully that they actually away with it.

And, somehow, they did…

Post-a-day 2019

Let’s talk about…

Today’s topic is sex, apparently, though in a totally detached and unconcerned, un-exotic approach to the topic…

This morning, listening to music on Pandora while working, I am only noticing the occasional phrase in the music, as I am rather focused on what I am doing.

However, one line of one song leaps out at me after the fact…!the song has already moved onward by far, and my head is reeling on this line it knows it just heard, though it wasn’t aware at the time.

“Tu fais l’amour en deux poussées,” was the line in this song (“Adieu”) by Coeur De Pirate, and it made me inhale sharply and chuckle heartily, all while making a silly face in response to the idea that this woman clearly just called someone out… and in a song… that’s going to be around for quite some time, and someone out there will have to know that it is about him….

My thoughts after that were merely, ‘Oh, snap!‘ repeated over and over again as I considered that one particular line.

I quickly jotted it down, laughed some more, and then continued on with my work.

So began the silly sex topic for today.

Standing in line at the store tonight, I noticed the couple who had stepped into line behind me.

The man was mumbling up a storm, leaving me to wonder whether he was even speaking English, but the woman was clearly responding in English, though not actually clearly, as she seemed to be somewhat mumbling, too, just significantly less than the man was.

I listened somewhat carefully, though still rather passively, for a minute, and determined that he was, in fact, speaking English, just super sloppily and mumbled, and then I returned to ignoring them altogether.

That is, until, another thirty seconds later, perhaps, from the cluttered mumbling that was the general sound cloud behind me sprouted a sudden inspirational clarity of language from the man.

“I should start charging you for my shirts.”

A pause.

“No-oo!” responds the woman, in that two-syllabic, nearly outraged response we tend to have to absurd, somewhat stupid ideas.

I turn round in the silence that follows, curiosity demanding a glimpse of how these people look and whether they are joking genuinely or are being passive-aggressive or mean with one another.

The woman is wearing a men’s t-shirt, which I notice immediately, but is also very pregnant, which I didn’t notice at first.

I laugh as I turn around to them, and I see that the woman is somewhat smiling: they are having fun.

After a few moments of silence, the woman replies, still in a slightly outraged tone of voice, “Then I ought to start charging you for sex.”

Momentary silence ensues… the man must be thinking up his response, or perhaps he was just out in his place(?)…, but I think more the former as I am standing, enthralled and half-panicked, half-agreeing with the woman’s idea…

The man then speaks up, hurried with his words, and making a bit of a fumble, but just rolling with it, “Good thing I don’t have any money right now, ’cause I really wouldn’t owe you anything, anyway…”

Another quick silence, this one much quicker than the last.

She replies, “Yeah…,” fully acknowledging that he is accurate in his statement, and then continues, now in a genuine and honest tone, “Sorry about that…”

And they both smile, likely delighting in the future they are to have with the growing baby that presently resides underneath all of the man’s t-shirts.

Thus ended the topic of the day’s incidents (aside from writing this right now, of course).

Post-a-day 2019

Borrowed(?) Memories

Some of my most beloved memories aren’t actually my own memories.

How my cousins would marry multiple friends at their school’s spring fling – marrying was one of the booths at the event, and so you could pay a dollar and be spring fling married to as many people as dollars you wanted to pay…

How my mom came across my brothers, aged about four years and one year, in a room with “MICHAEL MICHAEL MICHAEL MICHAEL” written a few feet off the ground, all over the walls… A—- could barely hold onto a marker, let alone stand tall enough to reach the words, as well as being able to write letters, and yet Michael says honestly to my mom, “A—- did it.”

When that same brother, aged maybe a year more, was angry at my mom at home, and declared in a huffy huff, “Well, you’re a…. you’re a damn!” and then stormed out, while my mom did her best not to explode in front of him with laughter.

And, once more, when that brother was a little younger, and he was with my mom at the store, and he began throwing a fit about not being allowed to have a toy of some sort, and my mom told him to hang on, and she asked the lady a few feet away from them, “Excuse me, ma’am, is he loud enough? Can you hear him okay?”… and my brother shut up really quickly…

One of the best memories is from a video in which A—- receives a birthday present, when aged around four or five years, that is inside a massive cardboard box in the garage… Michael stands within view, his back to the camera, awesome bicycle shorts on full display, and then picks a massive wedgie… a few moments later, A—- walks inside the cardboard box, disappearing from view, and everyone suddenly hears, in a little boy’s imperfect pronunciation, “Batman bike!!!”

He then appears, walking out of the box, pushing an awesome little Batman bicycle with training wheels (and all the boys are instantly envious).

These are a few of my favorite memories…, and yet none of them even had me present, and most were before I was even born.

They aren’t exactly my memories…

That someone how doesn’t change the the fact that I love them dearly, nor that I share them regularly with people.

I still find it somewhat weird, nonetheless, because, again, they aren’t even my own experiences that I’m remembering – just the stories of the experiences… perhaps that is how things are when people love events from history, you know?

The great wars or movements or, even, fashions or movies…. they are, in a way, borrowed memories…

Hmm…

P.S. A big bug hit me in the face on the way home today, and it hurt. 😛 haha

Post-a-day 2019

Hanging out

Do most people only spend time with friends in the form of doing something together?

Growing up, we would sit on the phone together, talking for hours – or as long as our parents would allow us – or we would go over to one another’s houses with no specific plan in mind, and just sit around together, talking, exploring aspects of life, and then doing whatever struck our fancy within the realm of that house/yard/neighborhood, but mostly house.

We didn’t really arrange anything – we just said to come over, and the other person did.

Nowadays, I can tell if it is adulthood or changing culture, but it feels as though this is no longer an option, or, at least, and acceptable one.

There are people with whom I want to spend more time in my life, and yet it feels as though I must come up with something for us to go do together, not at anyone’s home…

And I kind of feel like this is because, if I invited the person to my home, I would be at extreme risk of sounding like I am sharing an invitation for sex, or something like it, be it male or female I invite over.

Do you ever get that feeling?

I make a really good long-distance friend, in large part because – okay, mostly because I remember to call and I make time for my friends, but also because of this – well, because I can hang out over the phone.

One of my good friends and I regularly call one another to talk while we go on walks, sometimes together and sometimes with only one of us walking… and we just talk about anything and nothing, as though we were walking side-by-side.

My mom and I set the phone on speaker, and then each continue doing whatever we were doing, working on projects at home, or running errands, or whatever…

I love just hanging out with the people in my life, no pretext; just simply a matter of wanting to know what he or she was up to then and for the rest of the day, and does he/she want to hang out for a while (via phone or in person)…

And I’m scared of doing that…

Is that a real concern worth having, or is it all in my head that this isn’t exactly normal behavior with adults these days, just to invite one another over to hang out and do nothing in particular but be around one another voluntarily?

I’m thinking it’s kind of a mix… perhaps only good friends do this, not people of varying degrees of acquaintance… you know what I mean?

Hmm… we’ll see what I manage about this… I’m curious to see what I’ll do and how…

::finger rolls/drumming

Post-a-day 2019

Family (and Chuck)

My uncle is a big hunter.

He even went to Africa to do the super expensive hunting, where you pay a boatload of money that goes to preservation of the land and animals as a whole, in exchange for killing an animal they permit you to hunt (due to numbers being high enough in the particular species).

He takes hunting trips to various places throughout the year, and has for decades.

Certain parts of his house (they are rather contained to one room, though rugs are upstairs, too) are a testament to the fact that he hunts somewhat often and often quite successfully.

Keeping that in mind, consider the following text message exchange that happened between him and me today:

H: Adam gave me a Chuck Norris fact book, and my mom wanted me to share this one with you, because, she thought that, perhaps, you would like to update your vocabulary:

Chuck Norris doesn’t go hunting. The word ‘hunting’ implies a possibility of failure. Chuck Norris goes killing.

Uncle: LMAO!!!!!

H: 😂

……….

Fabulous, right? 😛

Haha

Post-a-day 2019