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Monthly Archives: January 2015

My Sisters Keeper by Jodi Picoult

If you have plans to read My Sisters Keeper, don’t read this. I mean it. I don’t want to ruin an awesome book for you. Move along. …………………………………………………………………… …………………………………………………………………… Ok. I think they’re gone. You know a book is going to be pretty darn good if it’s made into a movie. But I wasn’t expecting much, because I’m not always a fan of the trendy books. Take Twilight, for instance. Well, maybe that’s a little young adult for me. Alright, 50 Shades. Gag me. If there had been some semblance of a plot, perhaps I could have gotten on board. But it was trash, plain & simple. And reading the synopsis on the back cover of this one, I wasn’t convinced that it would be entertaining or worth my time. But I’ve read several of Jodi Picoult’s other novels & enjoyed them, so I dove in. I was totally engrossed within twenty pages. I was reading excerpts to everyone & telling them what all was happening. I lugged it to work & the people who really know me watched my…

Poison

“Did I ever tell you about my friend who wouldn’t eat the ends of hot dog weenies?” Tuletta says to me this morning. I snicker. “No, I don’t think so.” “Well, she wouldn’t. She’d cut ’em off. You know, the ends where they’re pinched up?” “Yes. Weird.” “Said they were poison.”… I’m laughing heartily. People are peculiar. “Every time I go in the bathroom & there’s just a little bit of toilet paper left on the roll, I think of that. Poison.” “People are lazy,” I concur. “Tuletta, you’re the one who needs to write the book.&#8221…

January Mornings in Dixie

This morning felt & looked like January in East Tennessee. What I mean is, it wasn’t super-frigid-freeze-your-fingers-off, but there was a heavy frost. As I drove to work, I took the time to admire all the ice crystals glimmering in the pasture fields & birds sitting close on power lines. There were cattle gathered at gates waiting for their breakfast to be brought around by the bundled up farmer on his tractor. As I drove through hollers, smoke generated by woodstoves & fi…replaces lay low to the ground. There was a stillness to be envied by all those in cities rushing around, too busy to look up (and probably nothing to look at but buildings anyway). I couldn’t help but smile as I looked at the mountain ridge & thinking, “I’ve hiked that…I will hike it again soon.” So you’re probably thinking I crashed ol Patsy into one of those beautiful bare branched trees, but no. I pull into the parking lot & I get a whiff of polecat. I speed around the building, hoping it won’t get stuck in my truck all day. The smell just gets stronger. I hurriedly open my door & bail out gagging. Skunks. Now, that’s life in the mountains…

Truth Serum of a Tourist Town Salesman

Alright. Y’all have to read this book. It will take you one day. I would say it will take you one hour, but it won’t, because you’ll have to stop after every story and laugh, then read it to anyone standing near you, then call everyone you know & read it to them. Repeat x81 (that’s how many stories there are). Then you’ll call me & tell me what an excellent recommendation I gave. You’re welcome. Messing With Tourists There’s supposed to be a picture there. Oh well. Here’s a couple of my favorite segments…

Lost Things

Today: (times given are approximate) Time spent cleaning: 1 hour 20 minutes Time spent cooking: 30 minutes Time spent eating: 10 minutes Time spent reading: 1 and a half hours Time spent watching Lonesome Dove: Three hours Time spent hunting the dang staples for my stapler: I DON’T KNOW, I CAN’T FIND THEM AND I AM LOSING MY MIND. It’s not helping I’ve been reading Sylvia Plath for two days…

Horsin’ Around

A long, long time ago, I was the new kid.  I had never once in my life been the new kid.  I had vowed not to be the weird girl in boots & wranglers ever again, so my first day at Walters State I dressed in a cute little tank top, little khaki shorts, & trendy sandals.  (I was not only young, but thin, back then) My plans, at usual, got wrecked.  I spilled my sprite all over my shorts in route to Morristown.  You would think this wouldn’t be such a big deal, since it’s a clear drink, & would have plenty of time to dry in that early September heat, but that wasn’t necessarily the case.  My shorts were dry clean only.  So they had big dark spots all over them.  Luckily, I had a change of clothes in my car….a pair of wranglers & old brown boots.  So much for fitting in. Imagine my surprise upon walking into my first class & everyone was dressed JUST LIKE ME! I didn’t want to be the nerd who sat down front, & the back row was already full of ‘baccer chewing cowboys being rowdy & loud.  I sat down in the middle row & tried to be inconspicuous. Not too long after that, this girl blew in wearing red jeans & a very shiny belt buckle.  She sat next to me. We struck up conversation after having a…

The Bermuda Triangle That Is My Life

Here’s something funny: I have misplaced…(or lost…) a book on the Bermuda Triangle that I have owned less than a month. The irony is NOT lost on me, though. I am completely aggravated. ***postscript*** I had not actually bought the book yet. I had just looked at it online so many times I had convinced myself I had. Here ’tis Bermuda Triangle…

The Pig Saga

This post began January 5th, 2015, and finally came full circle months later when I realized I was waiting on the owner of the pigs, as I knew I eventually would. “Have you seen those two big pigs down here? They’re up on the hill…in some chain link fence….” Yankee trails off as I squint my eyes at her, trying to determine if she just launched into this story or if there was a prelude that I hadn’t been tuned in for. Rewind…replay….no. “Which road???” I ask. “Chapman Highway.” Mighty long road. “Where at on Chapman?” “Uhhhmmm…I can’t think….it’s up on a hill….there’s chain link around the property…” She’s vaguely gesturing with her right hand. “What’s the closest business or road to it?” “….I’m not sure….” “Is it before Zion Hill or after?” “After.” “Is it before Sugarloaf Road or after, or do you even know where Sugarloaf is?” “Yeah, it’s after.” “Is it after the Wye?” “No, it’s before.” “Okay, so they’re between Sugarloaf & the Wye?” “No. It’s if you’re leaving Sevierville, before you get to Sugarloaf…