That’s what my knee feels like inside. A fireplace! Just when I think it’s gotten better or I haven’t noticed any pain, here it comes, out of the blue. Ready to wreck my day. 13 weeks of fireworks inside there. This is so much fun.

On the drive to the island, we stopped at the Czech Stop in West, Texas, home of the most amazing cinnamon roll I’ve ever had. The lovely employees warmed it up, handed it to me wrapped in wax paper, and gave us a stack of napkins. I inhaled it in about 0.79 seconds. I’m still thinking about that cinnamon roll.

You know those people who, just the very sound of their voice, makes you angry? I know one of them. In fact, my words are I’d rather cut the grass with my teeth than have a conversation with them. But you know what? So glad you asked. Here they come, trying to have conversations with me, ahem…need something. I’ve been known to walk the other direction, taking the looooong way home, to avoid conflict, I mean conversation. Grudge much.

Grief is an interesting thing. It finally happened, the voice I had been waiting on, my very own Jiminy Cricket, if you will, spoke these words: Get Over It. Suddenly, I realized I had been living in anger the past few months, unwilling to accept it might still be grief. Sure, I said it on RoF, I was dealing with grief, but I hadn’t fully addressed it. It was shrouded in anger, anger never expressed, anger I believed would mask the grief. No, child. Not only did I experience the entirety of anger, but I still had to navigate grief, too. Seems unfair. If only I had recognized it for what it was, an additional emotion vice a substitute. 30 years is a long time to grieve. And an even longer time to hold on to anger.

Get over it, Kel. I did/am/will/continue to.

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I ask you –

Do you prefer real wood or the pre-made logs in your fireplace?

Which is the best: the middle or the outside of a cinnamon roll? Middle. Always.

Share something you’re working to get over.

(The post Get(ting) Over It. first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

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