Unrequited Pecan Pie

My life caught up with me.

There’s been a standing offer for a prize for the person who found the source of a “locker room” smell in my house this week. I cleaned, I searched, I concluded it must be the dampness or the wet kitchen towels that had to wait too long to be washed. On Friday, I took to the basement to look for the booster seat Colby needs that I must have sold in a yard sale and found the problem.

The ancient upright deep freeze door had been open for twelve days. Twelve. Days. Ick.

While trying to get out of the house with my brood to head to a get-together at my aunt Shel’s, I had asked Max to go in the basement to get a pecan pie out of the freezer. Lily raced ahead and got it herself, with a mad Max trailing and Colby bringing up the rear. In the end, two boys were crying, a girl victorious, and, unbeknownst to all of us, the freezer door had not been shut properly in the fray. (And we didn’t even end up needing the pecan pie, so it was all for naught.)

This is where I thank God for my husband, who took care of the entire problem with no assistance from his raw-meat-hating wife. Thank. You. Shrek. I love him for being strong enough to take care of the deer meat, the corn, the things he found that he said must have been in there for the entire eight years or so of our deep freeze ownership. That’s all I’m going to say about that.

But I think my thaw came with the deep freeze thaw as well. I’m feeling more human these days. The pall has lifted yet again. I have had an insanely busy weekend, and the next three weeks are nothing but go time.

My plan is to keep my head up, keep my heart in it and get through it. I’m going to pause when I can for hot tea, fall candles, moments of clarity and the people who make my life an incredible, blessed journey.

And I’m going to keep a better eye on not only the open doors in front of me, but the ones that should be closed as well.