Abigail Freeman
Stories (10/0)
Honey, will you till me a garden?
I just wanted my garden tilled. This is not a euphemism. Its not even an elaborate task – I just wanted the small square of ground that I had identified weeks prior, to be broken up so that I could begin establishing my little corner of happiness. Sure, there were other tasks to be accomplished to make my garden whole – but this was the first step.
By Abigail Freeman 3 years ago in Humans
Smoking Sensation
After the age of 35, men in the Midwest become obsessed with smoking meats. Think about it. I know it’s a generalization – and a broad one at that, but its true and anyone reading this knows it. If you have been to the backyard of an adult male living in Gods Country, I guarantee you can visualize the bbq contraption, the bragging about their signature brisket, the discussion of internal temperatures, and the debate of Traeger vs Green Mountain Grill. Further, tell me that you have not seen a dad open their smoker to check their meat, get consumed by a billow of smoke and then utter the phrase “oh yeah! That’s some good meat right there”. It’s a universal experience and one that we all benefit from.
By Abigail Freeman 3 years ago in Humans
Hiking with my mother-in-law
Raise your hand if you have dated a male human before! (That was just an illustration. If your hand is up right now you have just made this horribly awkward.) If you have dated a man/boy/male it is highly likely that the single most important relationship in their life is the relationship with their mom. Mommas are a big deal! But for our menfolk, mommas show them exactly what to expect in a woman. They are also (usually) the most consistent source of comfort and structure. Some of you are having flashbacks of those incredible comparative statements “that’s not how my mom makes that” or “my mom never did it that way”… Please understand that their sweet boy brain really isn’t trying to be harmful – they just really like patterns. Regardless, one of the greatest gestures a lady can make is pursuing a relationship with her man’s momma.
By Abigail Freeman 3 years ago in Families
Logan the Yak
My Daddy is real cowboy. You may choose to read that in whatever voice or with whatever connotation you choose, but its true. No, really. He works cattle for a living, wears the hat and spurs, says ‘ma’am’… the whole bit. My dad is truly the toughest person I know. His lifestyle and natural grit have created a very daring, resilient human being. His best friend is my Uncle Matt. Uncle Matt is not my dad’s brother through shared genetics, rather through shared experience, mutual respect, and common lifestyle. Their willingness to take on any level of risk to pursue their cowboy existence is what made them known as two of the toughest, most genuine cowboys in their part of the country.
By Abigail Freeman 3 years ago in Petlife
Bathroom Fallout
Josh and I were together for about a month when he told me that he needed to undergo surgery. A routine procedure that would require rest and pain medication for about 2 weeks. He was less than excited about the prospect of being sedentary, and far less thrilled with the idea of his new girlfriend assuming the role of caretaker. Regardless of his preferences, the surgery went as planned and I did what I could to be helpful.
By Abigail Freeman 3 years ago in Humans
Hot Stank Cheese
Lactose intolerance. For some it is a mild inconvenience, for others, it is a tragedy. Josh’s intolerance falls somewhere in the middle of the spectrum which means the occasional dairy treat. So, when he suggested that I pick up some cheese to pair with a newly discovered summer sausage, I happily complied. Now, I did not want to waste this limited opportunity on boring cheddar or plain swiss – oh, contraire! I went with an aged asiago and smoked havarti. Believe me, I was quite proud of myself. However, when I revealed my purchases, Josh was less than impressed. When I opened the packages, he responded as if he had been accosted – and from his perspective, I suppose he had. Asiago does not have the most pleasant scent, especially if you are not accustomed to the subtleties of cheese culture. It is described on the interweb as having a fresh, milky, slightly floral smell – really, it smells like the socks of someone who just ran a marathon in August. Several days had passed since initially opening the cheeses. That detail is only relevant because the aroma of asiago does not dull with time.
By Abigail Freeman 3 years ago in Humans
Gator Hunting
My mother is quite an incredible human – no fear, no regrets. She is full of confidence and power. She does not maintain a nurturing or graceful spirit. When she was diagnosed with cancer, she was at peace with whatever outcome might present itself. She was confident in her spiritual home but willing to fight with everything in her body. However, with her diagnosis, also came a sense of adventure – a need to ‘live like she was dying’. Thank you, Tim McGraw, your wisdom has sparked life into many drab, lifeless souls. Please understand, that for someone who is not gentle or nurturing, a sense of adventure truly becomes a series of accosting your loved ones with reckless behavior and reprimanding any level on wariness. In what appeared to be a sweet, loving, gesture, my mother suggested that my sisters and I join her for a trip to Florida. One weekend of bonding and sharing sweet memories. I was thrilled! We planned the whole trip in advance – my sisters would go to Disney, my mother and I would spend the day shopping and communicating about her life, her wishes, her dreams. She did have one simple request – she would like to go on a gator hunting expedition. I reluctantly agreed… Surely, as tourists, we would be in a fairly controlled environment, right? She purchased tickets for the activity which confirmed my belief that this would be a mild introduction into the life of an alligator – little did I know, we were about to understand the depths of Steve Irwin’s soul. On the day of the escapade, all was as expected. We did shop, talk about our hopes and dreams – I ensured that I understood my mother’s wishes if she were to pass due to the illness. We stopped for lunch at a quaint little sushi restaurant where we were served fresh sushi with KC Masterpiece BBQ sauce – I should have known at this point that the day was not going to be a treasured memory. From lunch, she explained that we were headed to go gator hunting. Whew. This. Is. What. We. Play. For. I was nervous. I expected to arrive at a venue – no. We arrived at the address provided, which was a gas station – really, it was a shed that sold chips because it had not sold gas since the 1980s. Mom has no inhibitions. No red flags. Another car arrives – a 1986 red pinto with a yellow door. The man that steps out is slim, he has sunken cheeks and his movements are a bit disjointed. It would appear that this man has found the secret to happiness. Meth is quite magical. He has a partner, however, the second is not memorable. They motion for us to meet them in the building – my mother sends me alone. Once in the building, the man requests my tickets for the gator hunting. NO. STOP. This is not real. This is not the gator hunting experience. It is. I am now informed that my mother has purchased the experience on Groupon – some things you just cannot bargain shop. We sort out the details of payment and are instructed to follow the shiny sports car to the swamp. As the man enters his vehicle, he most certainly felt cramped, as he did not put his left leg in with him, instead, he rested it out of the car window. We followed the pinto down a dirt road and into a field. Still no concern from my mother. I wish I held her level of confidence. I cannot stop praying. If nothing else, I am confident in my salvation. We park and exit and our guide leads us to a structure of rotted wood and ropes – he calls it a dock. There is an airboat tied to the construction, however, it more resembled a canoe with a large fan. We board the vessel. I am shaking. This contraption is supposed to keep us safe from gators – large, angry, aggressive, gators. We are provided with life jackets but informed that in the event that a gator attacks us, the life jacket will not provide life saving measures. Solid. We push into the water – no going back now. My knuckles are white from gripping the bar in front of me. I look towards my mother. She is smiling – she will be committed to a facility upon our return. I have the proof I need – she is insane. The fan is started and our boat is floating across the water. WE ARE HURTLING THROUGH THE AIR SLIGHTLY ABOVE GATOR INFESTED WATERS… we stop periodically to view an eye, a nostril, a tail, a back poking out of the water. The monsters are everywhere and we can no longer see land. There is no option to swim to safety. Our guide is dying for a hit of something. He can no longer form sentences. I cant breathe. This is actually how I am going to die. I meth addict in Florida is going to dump me in a swamp with gators. After nearly an hour of anticipating my own end, our boat glides back to the dock. We are on land but we are not safe. The guides feel that we were not provided with enough of a hands on experience. They duck behind a tree and reappear with a 6’ gator. He has electrical tape around his mouth but his tail is thrashing. This creature feels the same way about his captors as I do. I am instructed to hold the angry monster, his name is Fluffy – I do not. My mother has never been more disappointed in me. I am convinced now that she is the one that intends to murder me. It’s the perfect crime. I find our car and message my sisters for help. They are not in a position to assist, see, they have just been kicked out of Disney. Bless them. We now have a reason to leave! I gather my mother and thank the guides – they seem disappointed that we will not be joining them for dinner. It was a beautiful drive home as I informed my mother that she would no longer be allowed to make independent decisions.
By Abigail Freeman 3 years ago in Humans
Kansas City BBQ
Having lived in the Memphis and Kansas City areas, I have come to truly appreciate the culture that surrounds BBQ. There is an entire identity and etiquette that goes along with the cooking and eating of various cuts of meat. Respect and appreciation are tied to this culture – regardless of the region that you live. With that, I must say, I absolutely prefer Memphis style barbeque over Kansas City – however, Kansas City is home – so I will have to learn to love the sweet and saucy.
By Abigail Freeman 3 years ago in Feast
Sunset Hill Community Meeting
Sunset Hill Community Meeting History: The Sunset Hill Community has been experiencing an issue with water damage due to lack of storm drains or proper infrastructure. The water funnels in from the street and runs through the backyards on the street, flooding garages, basements, yards, and driveways. There have been several complaints made in recent years, however, the City of Liberty has explained that they will not address the issue. The neighbors of the community have now been forced into a meeting to discuss next steps.
By Abigail Freeman 3 years ago in Humans
Massage
My mother purchased a Groupon for me for Christmas. Included in the Groupon, was a 60 minute foot and back massage. I should have known better. Last time my mother bought a Groupon we were led into the woods by a group from Deliverance to go ‘gator hunting’. What follows is a similar experience.
By Abigail Freeman 3 years ago in Longevity