Friday, August 10, 2012

I just threw up a little.

I cleaned out my rice cooker today. Gagging the entire time, running once to the trash can. It was, that gross.

I guess it shouldn't be a shock, because I hadn't cleaned it since I got it, and that has been over three years ago. And when I say I hadn't cleaned it, I mean I had completely disassembled it, because I didn't think you actually could.

But you can.

And you should.

If you do, there is a real possibility out there that your house won't smell like stinky feet and fart. That's the smell it give out.

However, if your house does stink, and it's not due to your rice cooker, I recommend you purchase a Scentsy. They smell yummy, and come in all sorts of flavors (scents?)

Michael tried to tell me that we could start looking around for a cheap replacement. Which I completely vetoed. Even if this rice cooker made my entire house stink for the foreseeable future, we are keeping it.


It's the last thing that my mom ever physically gave me, the last time I ever saw her alive.

* Hold please while I get the tissues!*

The last time I ever saw my mom was in between summer semesters (my last at Tech). Krystal had ridden down with me and Annie to spend some time with her then boyfriend/fiance (I'm not really sure what they were at this point. They were like a month into the relationship, but their status was a bit confusing...)and Michael had come down too, but on his own.

I had, at some point, picked Michael up from his parent's house, so after spending the night at my friend Tabitha's house, we had to go back to Lubbock. We made a brief stop at my parents' house, mainly to pick up Annie. We visited quickly with my parents, and loaded everybody up in the car for a crowded ride back to Fort Worth. Before I completely pulled out of the driveway, Michael mentioned the rice cooker I had wanted to get from my mom. The one that my had offered to me.

In a hurry, with other things on my mind, I quickly through the car into park and ran inside. I caught my mom as she was slowly moving through the hallway trailing oxygen tubes behind her.

Can I have that rice cooker?

Sure. Let me get it.

*She stretched to pull it off a top shelf from the kitchen.*

Thanks, Love you. Bye.

Wait a minute. I need a hug, and a kiss.

I begrudgingly obliged. I was in a hurry and had two people and a dog in the car. Plus a 7 hour drive ahead.

But I took that sweaty, hug and kiss.

If I would've known that was the last time I would have seen her, I would've given her a bigger hug. A better kiss. Something more significant to remember her touch by.

But maybe that's why I remember it so clearly. Because it was so brief. And so normal, routine even. I'll never forget that moment.

After you finish wiping tears (or imagine me wiping my tears at least) you can think about how my dad gives me hell every time I mention the rice cooker, or he thinks about rice, or cooking in general.

Never knew there could be so many emotions and drama over a rice cooker from the late night home shopping network shopping my mom did? Did ya?

--Jessica G.

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