Cracker Love

This isn’t a racist post, I promise! Although I do get a kick out of that chosen slur toward us pasty skins. Now that I have taken a moment to ponder it though- what cracker came first? The slang or the man? I know you will all be saying, “the cracker you idiot! That’s why they call us crackers- cause they used to only come in white”

I’ll have to dive deeper into that at a later date. For now my focus is Crackers, as in Ritz. (Which are brown by the way)

Jen! Focus.

Crackers.

My new middle aged, late night- mesmerized and spellbound by the colorful, escapism derived t.v. programming- Snack Indulgence. I don’t particularly look forward to engaging in those late lonely nights when I lose semi consciousness in my endless pursuit of a possible adrenaline and powerful feelings inducing streaming melodrama. It’s not an easy quest! There’s a lot of mediocrity being filmed. And I still can’t decide if I prefer it stay that way, because the upside at a failed quest for greatness means I turn off the television and succumb to just simply indulging in a little late night scrolling of Instagram videos. Usually about comedy, amazing singers on AGT, or animals hugging each other cause they inherently know love without words!! So jealous…

But when I do find a newly streaming show that makes me feel all the emotions I lack, or strongly desire in real life relationships, I binge so fast through it that next thing I know I’ve woken up the next morning perplexed at having gained another five and a half pounds and can I really blame it on menopause?? Or just give all fault and the right to a court case to The Bear and Jeremy Allen White for the cost of my new “greater sized” wardrobe?

Probably not. Although in this f’ed up American judicial system -Maybe.

Or I can be responsible and just blame it on myself and a gracious supply of crackers I too often mindlessly cram into my mouth as if my taste buds are the only part of my body allowed to receive an intimate outside touch.

And if you think crackers can’t be intimate, you’ve probably never slowly licked the salty side of a Ritz before fully inserting it in its full roundness that is - dare I say- accidentally? made with a circumference just great enough to hit all three major salivatory glands between the teeth and cheeks, and upper throat.

Are we still talking about crackers? I got lost by an old Barry Manilow song playing in the background.

You may be wondering my point of this cracker dialogue. Which is…

While recently vacuuming my, now almost five years widowed, mother’s couch area she refers to as her “She-Shed” where she watches T.V. on a daily basis, I encountered an amount of cracker droppings I thought unknown to my still, newly to fifty’s era of life, comprehension. That is…till I quickly and emotionally realized, I do the same weekly clean-up at my own place of residence. Although her home is big enough to have a separate room “she-shed” for t.v. viewing, mine would more likely be- “that area of space you see right when you open the front door and to the left of the refrigerator!” Which makes me realize that maybe the reason all these rich Beverly Hills Housewives we see on Reality shows are so skinny is because their home is so big that they have to take an actual staircase to get from the couch to the kitchen. It’s proximity that is causing my so-called Menopause fat! If only the crackers weren’t so accessible.

But back to generational habits. I love and adore any time I find myself mimicking the habits of my mom. Especially being that she has endured more physical and emotional challenges in her life than my brain can emotionally comprehend. But maybe my brain has a way of understanding with lack of experiencing that still keeps us bonded.

Either way- we are both still living alone and thriving - although I do sometimes worry we both find great comfortability in our nightly alone cracker time a little too much…But on the positive side, I’ll now think of her and smile every time I engage in a -vacuum hose to the couch clean up -of night time snacking!

And if there is ANYTHING I have learned from all these emotionally charged episodes of THE BEAR- The real power is in the quiet subtlety that is felt between people, yet not always able to be expressed with words. xo