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Daily Archives: March 9, 2019

Lent 2019 Day 4

Sugar has never tasted so good. One thing for certain, I would never make it in a survival situation. This morning I couldn’t wait to down my white chocolate mocha Starbucks drink. And then I fixed me a big cheesy omelet. I would like to say I enjoyed every bite but my eyes were bigger than my belly and I got a little carried away with peppers and bacon bits. So anyway, you’ve probably deduced that today’s fast isn’t sugar or dairy. Praise be to God! Today it’s merely liquor, at the request of my Uncle Dale. He stipulated that it must be done on a Saturday. Clearly, he doesn’t know me at all, because I rarely drink on Saturdays; I clean. Today was no exception. But I also had a hair appointment. I was about to have to start wearing a hat everywhere I went because my gray is REALLY BAD. So I’m at the salon, and I go to throw something away and notice what looks like bacon in the trash can!! See it? There at the bottom? And I’m like, who throws away bacon?!? And I turn to Christy and ask her why there’s bacon in her garbage can. I am thoroughly baffled. And she’s like, “I threw away my gloves from when I mixed your hair dye, that’s probably what you’re…

That’s Why

Sometimes I dream of moving. Living elsewhere. Like the Oregon coast. Or the forests of Idaho. Then I laugh and know I can’t– I’m southern through and through. I talk southern, I cook southern, I dress southern. I love horses and God and football. Lord, how I love football (SEC football, that is). I love beer drank on a tail gate and sweet tea sipped on a porch swing. I love cotton fields and apple festivals. I love Dolly Parton. I love magnolia trees and pearls and swimming in the lake. I love old stately homes and hound dogs and athsmatic preachers. I love old ladies who wear hats and whose pocketbooks match their shoes. I love flamingos in the front yard and rusty mailboxes and picking squash. I love taking the long way home and giving directions that include “turn right where Charlie Maples’ grandson used to live”.I love barn cats and pocketknives and flipping over rocks to hunt for crawdads. I love novels set in the south, movies set in the south, and people who come here searching for the real south. I love butterflies and bluebirds and barn swallows. I love fishing from a riverbank with worms you just dug from under the apple tree. I love blue tailed lizards and groundhogs and counting the stars. I love tomato sandwiches on white bread with Duke’s mayonnaise and a dash of salt. I love knowing summer&#8217…