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Monthly Archives: February 2019
Nothing was going as planned. If you know me, you’re probably surprised to learn I even HAVE a plan. I admit, my plan normally never stretches further than what I will be consuming for my three meals that day. But I sometimes will plan vacations months in advance, especially if it’s a new destination. I don’t want to miss anything in the event I can never return, so I like to have all my high points mapped and time allocated to enjoy them. I have enough to plan for in the course of a month between board meetings and bills, I don’t like to have to commit to much in between. I plan to go to bed between 10-11. I plan to get up by 6:30. I plan to stay at work until 4. You know. Plans. Plus all the plans I have for cleaning, writing, reading, watching TV, exercising. When you think about it, you’ve got your whole life planned out in this manner. If you’re married, you plan to see it through, growing old on a porch swing, watching your grandchildren frolic in the evening twilight, catching lightning bugs. Oh wait. I mean tapping on their tablet in front of your 60″ HD Smart TV. My plans rarely work out. I tend to over schedule myself and then panic halfway through my day when I’ve only accomplished the one thing. Nothing…
Wallyworld was closed when Chevy Chase finally managed to arrive, and so was the closest bar-be-cue joint by the time I got there. I breathed in slowly through my nose, like I was taught to do in yoga. It wasn’t the end of the world, this was a first world problem, but just what I wouldn’t do for some pulled pork and slaw. My one and only coworker had grated on my nerves all day, badmouthing our President and leaders, poking his nose in ALL of my business, pretending he knew me better than I knew myself. It’s a dang wonder I hadn’t thrown my stapler at him. On top of that, I had an appointment with my accountant after the grueling day at work. I despise doing adult things like that. If I never have to see another lawyer, doctor, or banker, that would be just fine by me. As a matter of fact, I decided on the spot, if I ever hit the lottery, they’d be the first people I’d do away with. As quick as I could get me a financial adviser nailed down (Monte B, I’m looking at you), the next person I’d hire would be someone to manage my other business. I would never have to schedule another appointment or ask questions about my money. I could literally just drift along on the high seas from the…
Let me begin by saying I loathe Valentine’s Day. Read that carefully. Loathe. NOT love. It’s pure hokum, all these guys put under pressure to get a ooey gooey card, roses (double gag), and an expensive, romantic dinner out. It’s utterly ridiculous. And I don’t play. Never have. Don’t participate because it’s required of you. Make your person feel special on a regular day because you want to. Now that that’s out of the way. My day began at the office, like any other Thursday. I was in full Valentine’s Day attire, because if you wear black people accuse you of being bitter and hateful. Even if it is true, I don’t need to hear it. Plus, I like pink and glitter. And that’s not always acceptable on a Thursday. But on Valentine’s Day it is! So I donned my heart print Lularoes, XOXO Y’all shirt, red shoes, and off I went. I also had a pink light up flower for my hair, but even I will concede that’s a bit much for the morning hours. Baker the Baker popped in with some delicious morsels right off the bat, flitting through like Cupid. It wasn’t long before my momma showed up, bearing gifts. I had already warned her I wasn’t in the mood for sweets. I’ve been…
Because it’s been so rainy and generally gloomy….I felt like we needed a reminder there are “better” days ahead. It’s the sunshine glaring off the windshields, temporarily blinding you as you make your way out of the grocery store. It’s that rush of super humid, super hot air that takes your breath the moment you step outside. You wish for air conditioned pants. You want to go to the lake, but really even the thought of lake water isn’t cooling enough to bother. Then there’s the pool….but baking on concrete and then jumping into chlorinated water isn’t really worth getting your hair wet for, either. You sweat standing in your air conditioned bathroom straightening your hair, which will undoubtedly frizz as soon as you think about going outside. Dogs dig out the earth for a cooler place to lie, and rise slowly from their shaded resting places to bark halfheartedly at strangers. It’s so hot you can’t even bear to think about wearing black for a funeral, but remember you bought those black and white palazzo pants just for these occasions. You question the sanity of those girls who wear fashion scarves. You barely refrain from rolling your eyes at those who wear a sweater in the office against the chill of the air conditioning. You debate on moving your chair directly over the vent. It’s…
{#907 You are the main attraction at an old timey carnival side show} I was born a siren eighty miles off the coast of the Emerald Isle. The waters were cold, but my beauty was a flame that kept me warm. I swam wherever I wanted, only mindful of the big wooden ships steaming out for America every day. I batted my tail up sometimes, quick as a hiccup, making the sailors wonder if they saw anything at all. Maybe it was just the glimmer of the sun on the water. Maybe they missed their girl already. I dreamed of having sparkling jewelry made of diamonds and sapphires, not these devoid of color pearls. I wanted legs to dance on. I wanted a life on land. There was one way to obtain it. I could trade my fin forever by luring a man to his death. Girls did it all the time, we were known to be mesmerizing. And we would possess the same beauty on land as we did in the sea, just without our giant, beautiful tail to propel us along. We would be known as vixens. It would be easy enough: wait for a foggy night with a still sea, begin my enchantment by singing my siren song, beckon them closer, closer, until his eyes go gooey with lust, and then catapult out of the water like I was going in for just a kiss but really going for his heart. Or his legs, be that as…
{#378 They say revenge is a dish best served cold. You’ve waited ten years for this moment} The following is a work of fiction. I’ve always said fiction has a good dose of fact, mixed with some fantasy. I’ll let you determine what’s what. Enjoy! I come from a long line of rage. My lawyers tried to get me off on a insanity plea, but I told them like I told everybody else in that courtroom I wasn’t crazy and I damn sure wasn’t sorry. I don’t think that helped my case. But I’ve been taught my whole life there’s nothing wrong with the truth. I’ve also been told on numerous occasions to keep my mouth shut. I’d had all I could take. The literal love of my life expected sympathy for his foolish decisions to take a lover that has bankrupted him. That’s after what I got. I didn’t feel any sympathy, I felt a maniacal fury towards him and the last ten years of my life. I’d warned him over and over again to just shut up. My head pounded, my teeth chattered, my hands clenched. When he reached for me, I scuttled backward like a crawdad. Crawdads aren’t scared, you know. It’s just self preservation. They will fight. They will pinch you seventeen ways to…
Have you ever thought about what it would be like if, when you heard a song for the first time, you could see into the future? If you knew, in the blink of an eye what you would be doing and where you’d be the rest of your life when you heard it again? Wouldn’t that be the weirdest thing ever? “Semi Charmed Life” comes to mind. It always takes me straight back to the first week of June, 1997. We were at the beach, in a convertible, riding down the strip on the way to dinner. The air was warm with promises of what was to come, not only in the immediate future but for the rest of our just-being-shaped lives. Yesterday, I went to the movies to watch Dirty Dancing on the big screen. Prior to the showing, the projector ran a series of facts about the film. Jennifer Grey was 27 when she was cast to play the 17 year old Baby! She had the part immediately after the audition. Patrick Swayze didn’t have dancing listed on his resume, and was nearly looked over. Val Kilmer was offered the part of Johnny Castle, but didn’t want to be branded as a “hunk”. I do not understand this reasoning, I am merely stating the facts. The lights dimmed. “That was the summer of 1963, when everybody called me Baby…
This is an old story, one I have held off on publishing. I had originally called it “But”, however when I came to this writing prompt, it was a perfect fit. He never laid a hand on me. It’s been ten years, but the memory of him still breaks me out in a sweat. When he meets people and finds out they know me, I’m brushed off with a, “Oh, we went out a few times.” I lived with him for two years. We traveled the continent together. We talked nearly every day for over six years. I loved him, because he made me. Because I didn’t know any better. I thought the constant struggle for air was a form of love. This story is nearly impossible to write. I’ve had him out of my head for quite awhile, until a month or so ago, when in walked the director for the Women’s Center in Jefferson County. I try to make conversation while plugging in information on the QuickBooks invoice because it makes people feel more comfortable and it makes time go faster. There ain’t nothin’ quick about QuickBooks. She was so confident in her mannerisms, just the way she carried herself and the way she spoke. She was approachable but businesslike and I found myself confiding in her. “So what does your organization do? Provide shelter to women coming from domestic…
