this was so fun. appliance porn! i love the way your mind creates!!! and now when my washing machine plays its little tune at the end of the cycle, i'll assume it is "satisfied" after caressing, spinning and rinsing my undies. ;)
Going where few have gone before, bringing appliance porn to new and hilarious levels, taking my breath away...really, this post should have a cautionary warning about consuming coffee while reading!!!
In a world veiled in darkness, my grandmother found her light in the tactile whispers of point print. At three months old, her eyes may have betrayed her, but her spirit was as sighted as ever. The Bible and books that filled her days were not defined by their heft or the thickness of their pages, but by the life they breathed into her through their raised dots-a language of touch, a precursor of Braille.
Her slate and stylus were her instruments of correspondence, a bridge between her world and that of her blind friends. With each letter she crafted, her thoughts were etched into existence, her words a tangible presence in a world she could only hear and feel.
Her books would rest on her lap, a foundation of knowledge and faith as solid as the earth itself. Her fingers, nimble and sure, would dance across the pages, a ballet of sensation and understanding. The dots beneath her touch would rise to meet her, eager to share their secrets and stories.
I remember the sound of her voice, rich and warm, as she read aloud. It was a melody that resonated with wisdom and resilience, a testimony to her ability to navigate a world that was not built for her. Her dexterity was a marvel, her fingers moving with a grace that belied their age.
Those books, the stylus, the slate-they were more than mere objects. They are the legacy of a woman who refused to be defined by her limitations, and who embraced the world with hands wide open. They are cherished not only for what they are but for what they represent: the indomitable will of my grandmother who saw more clearly with her heart than most do with their eyes.
Roxie, a name that echoed within the walls of our home, was a beacon of resilience and grace. Blindness never dimmed her spirit; it only sharpened her other senses, transforming other daily chores into a display of her remarkable capabilities. Roxie, her domain was the heart of our household kitchen- where she reigned with gentle authority and an unerring touch.
As our dishwasher, Roxie's fingers were like whispers over porcelain, detecting and erasing the slightest imperfection. Plates and utensils gleamed under her meticulous care; each one emerging from her hands as if they were new. It was a dance of fingertips and water, a silent symphony played out on ceramic and metal.
The snapping of green beans was a ritual she performed with a surgeon's precision. Each bean was a conversation between her fingers and the vegetable's hidden strings. She would hold the snapped pieces to her cheek, a gesture as tender as a mother's touch, ensuring not a single string remained to mar the perfection of her task.
Shelling peas was a task she cherished, a moment of peace in the rhythm of the day. The pea pods would yield to her deft fingers, splitting open to reveal their hidden treasures. The bowl would fill, each pea a testament to her skill, and the sound of the shells parting was a familiar refrain in the melody of our family life.
Grandma Roxie, as we fondly called her, was more than just a member of our family. She was a symbol of unwavering strength, a reminder that the human spirit can adapt and thrive. Her legacy is etched not only in the well-worn pages of her point print books but in the very essence of our home. She is unforgettable, a cherished memory that continues to inspire and guide us.
This is proudly my memories of a grand blind lady who greatly influenced my life and character.
Wow, that was really beautiful. I had a blind Spanish student once and I loved having her in my class. She was the best listener I’ve ever had. She picked up everything right away. My students who would normally complain could not utter a word of complaint as long as she was in their classroom, of course, seeing as how hard she worked, and how resilient she was. And even when we had games that required sight, she still somehow dominated.
Every one of those was amazing, Summer. I didn’t know what my reading life was missing!
Haha! Thanks, Andromeda!
this was so fun. appliance porn! i love the way your mind creates!!! and now when my washing machine plays its little tune at the end of the cycle, i'll assume it is "satisfied" after caressing, spinning and rinsing my undies. ;)
You know it! good for you both! I legit fell in love with my washing machine and my dishwasher during the pandemic. My emotional support animal.
Going where few have gone before, bringing appliance porn to new and hilarious levels, taking my breath away...really, this post should have a cautionary warning about consuming coffee while reading!!!
Haha I apologize for any coffee that prematurely ejaculated while reading! lol
Lol, woah another close call!!
🤣
ROXIE, MY BLIND GRANDMOTHER
In a world veiled in darkness, my grandmother found her light in the tactile whispers of point print. At three months old, her eyes may have betrayed her, but her spirit was as sighted as ever. The Bible and books that filled her days were not defined by their heft or the thickness of their pages, but by the life they breathed into her through their raised dots-a language of touch, a precursor of Braille.
Her slate and stylus were her instruments of correspondence, a bridge between her world and that of her blind friends. With each letter she crafted, her thoughts were etched into existence, her words a tangible presence in a world she could only hear and feel.
Her books would rest on her lap, a foundation of knowledge and faith as solid as the earth itself. Her fingers, nimble and sure, would dance across the pages, a ballet of sensation and understanding. The dots beneath her touch would rise to meet her, eager to share their secrets and stories.
I remember the sound of her voice, rich and warm, as she read aloud. It was a melody that resonated with wisdom and resilience, a testimony to her ability to navigate a world that was not built for her. Her dexterity was a marvel, her fingers moving with a grace that belied their age.
Those books, the stylus, the slate-they were more than mere objects. They are the legacy of a woman who refused to be defined by her limitations, and who embraced the world with hands wide open. They are cherished not only for what they are but for what they represent: the indomitable will of my grandmother who saw more clearly with her heart than most do with their eyes.
Roxie, a name that echoed within the walls of our home, was a beacon of resilience and grace. Blindness never dimmed her spirit; it only sharpened her other senses, transforming other daily chores into a display of her remarkable capabilities. Roxie, her domain was the heart of our household kitchen- where she reigned with gentle authority and an unerring touch.
As our dishwasher, Roxie's fingers were like whispers over porcelain, detecting and erasing the slightest imperfection. Plates and utensils gleamed under her meticulous care; each one emerging from her hands as if they were new. It was a dance of fingertips and water, a silent symphony played out on ceramic and metal.
The snapping of green beans was a ritual she performed with a surgeon's precision. Each bean was a conversation between her fingers and the vegetable's hidden strings. She would hold the snapped pieces to her cheek, a gesture as tender as a mother's touch, ensuring not a single string remained to mar the perfection of her task.
Shelling peas was a task she cherished, a moment of peace in the rhythm of the day. The pea pods would yield to her deft fingers, splitting open to reveal their hidden treasures. The bowl would fill, each pea a testament to her skill, and the sound of the shells parting was a familiar refrain in the melody of our family life.
Grandma Roxie, as we fondly called her, was more than just a member of our family. She was a symbol of unwavering strength, a reminder that the human spirit can adapt and thrive. Her legacy is etched not only in the well-worn pages of her point print books but in the very essence of our home. She is unforgettable, a cherished memory that continues to inspire and guide us.
This is proudly my memories of a grand blind lady who greatly influenced my life and character.
Her grandson:
peppermiller3011@gmail.com
Wow, that was really beautiful. I had a blind Spanish student once and I loved having her in my class. She was the best listener I’ve ever had. She picked up everything right away. My students who would normally complain could not utter a word of complaint as long as she was in their classroom, of course, seeing as how hard she worked, and how resilient she was. And even when we had games that required sight, she still somehow dominated.
BLINDNESS ENHANCES OUR OTHER SENSES.
Pepper
oh…bless your heart Pepper.
Can’t stop laughing 🤣🤣🤣 thank you. A million thank yous for making me laugh so hard 😍🤣🤣🤣
Thank you Mesa!!!!
Love it, Summer! So funny and sexy at the same time.
Haha thanks Shelley!
So good, each one!
Thank you, Michelle!
So fucking funny.
Lol good one! Thank you, Kara!
You had me at wood stove.
I had one of those in our first rambler home. Looks like we should have kept it. Especially if they still accommodate long lasting logs.
Haha that one was inspired by my husband!
Yeah…but does HE know that?
LOL!!! 😝
Haha yes! 🤣 I don’t think he thinks it’s as funny as I think it is
I really really needed that morning laugh! Soo satisfying. *lighting up*
LOL thanks Cindy!
😂 Thanks for that!
You're welcome! Thanks for your comment!
Ha! So brilliant!
Thank you, Kara!
A lot to handle at the work desk... had to run out
LMAO sorry!
Need to read after work; looking forward to it!
Thank you!