Sometimes I am just crackers. Sometimes wry crackers. I particularly like rye crackers. I discovered the wonderfulness of rye once as a child on a trip to North Carolina. There were these cellophane wrapped crackers that I had never encountered before. They had some sort of cheese concoction sandwiched between some lovely, delicious, buttery crackers flecked with bits of rye. I lived in the west and nothing so wonderful had I found there. In the east there were many other wonders like hot pink wieners for sale at a place called the "Piggley Wiggly." Imagine westerners naming something that way or selling florescent pink wieners.
There were other things that I discovered that were wonderful. The smell of the air which was just like a garden, even the humidity could be a strange delight. The sound of the ocean, the sound of a Carolina accent. At first every summer I remember being afraid to hear it. For me it was like when you are a kid swimming, you're afraid to dunk yourself all the way under the water. Waist high is fine but any more than that might overwhelm your system. Could I bear the initial shock in order to be fully swimming? I could hear the accent on the phone or on the television but the real thing, that might just be too overwhelming. When I finally got to grandma's it was just like being in the water. It seemed too much for a moment but then it was a wonderful thing. I discovered screened porches, endless crickets chirping and spectacular summer lighting storms that would go on forever with no rain.
Then there was the barbecued pulled pork. Vinegary sour-sweet and a little spicy. On a bun with a little coleslaw. Thinking about it now make my mouth water. This also was a taste that I had never before encountered and a rare delight. I hadn't before imagined such a thing existing... but somehow "East Carolina Barbecued Pulled Pork Sandwiches" did not have as nice a ring to it as "Rye Crackers" or "Wry Crackers" the name I finally settled upon.
So here I am for many reasons. The first and foremost I needed a place to put all the things spinning around in my head. I needed a tether, an anchor, a place be grounded to find bearings. Secondly I enjoy the process of writing. I think I ferret out and learn my own mind when I put it down in written words. Thirdly I'm sure there is some element of exhibitionist in me. Exhibitionist journaling maybe... So if for none else but my own sanity I begin today.
I'll think out loud I guess. I look forward to musing upon other rye cracker discoveries that I make or have made as I pass through them, or as they happen to be brought back to my mind. Those were just the North Carolina variety. This will be my place to record what I have discovered about the way (I think) the world works, other people, my faith, being a wife, and a mother and somewhere in all that craziness there is me. A little crackers at times but still in there, with the occasional fleck of wry. This will be my little wry cracker hide out. Exhibitionist style.
