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Amy
Whew, being disciplined takes dedication. And I’m a little short on suitable, safe topics again tonight. I guess I could write about my dog, as he’s a fan favorite, but considering how much of his hair I sucked up in the vacuum tonight, he’s not on my highly favored list right now. (I know he can’t help it, yes, I knew he was a shedder from the first time I laid eyes on him, and yes, he gets brushed daily. I vacuum at least twice a week with the Shark Petpro XLT or whatever it’s called but DANG.) I’ve been asking myself why I’m so critical. It especially concerns Facebook, which is a sure sign I’m spending too much time on there. I’m for less kids and more dogs. Less “what your Ninja Warrior name would be” and more chicken and dumplings. Less griping about politics and more about what you’re reading. Less bragging about what you’ve bought and where you’re going and more about how you’re spending time with those you love in their homes, or yours. Why ya gotta be so fancy? Less pretension, overall, and more truth. Less passive aggressiveness and more directness. Quit faking it. Who are you trying to impress with some of this stuff? Enough. So I’ve come to the point in my life, when I go to buy something, I have to face reality and determine where I’m…
I don’t wish to treat this blog as a journal, but that’s what I’m reduced to, as I have procrastinated all the livelong day. So here we are, going on 9:00 and I’ve got nothing. I have desperately wanted to turn my phone off today, due to conversations I’ve had, as well as conversations I felt were on the horizon. But I didn’t turn my phone off, and I didn’t have a nervous breakdown, and I managed not to bite anybody’s head off. Score! The bottle of wine I shared with my cousin after work helped immensely, no doubt. As Ernest Hemingway said, “write drunk, edit sober.” I’m halfway there! In case you didn’t know, I live under a rock. I have never been to Trader Joe’s. I thought it was some upscale gourmet grocery store. Evidently it’s a home for fantastic cheeses and $6 bottles of wine, so I gotta get there pronto Tonto. Stumbled across a song today that I haven’t heard in decades. “Say Say Say” by Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney, two of my favorites. Funny how music from our childhood sticks with us, but I could hear a Taylor Swift song seventeen times a day and at best may get the chorus by the tenth playing. Nothing against Taytay, just my memory is quickly dissipating. And I’m not remembering the important stuff either, before you try to come to my…
Here we are. Day 2. The day where many of us are back at work. Although I learned that University of Tennessee students don’t begin until January 22nd. That’s some break! I dressed up, I curled my hair, I put on makeup…it’s all a ruse. I am here only in body. Everything feels just a bit off kilter. I can’t explain it. But, on a much brighter note, I got a free car wash today! It is unknown if the guy took pity on me (Maggie had bird doo on the door and probably elsewhere, I’ve been trying not to look too closely) or if I look like the type to gripe and he wasn’t gonna take any chances. Regardless, the “basic” three minute car wash is $12, which is highway robbery with a water hose. Plus it always makes me a nervous wreck. I do not like those things pulling me along and buffeting me with the wind and slapping at me with those giant rubber bands. Now they’ve added concert type lighting and it’s all very disorienting. Several years ago, right after I got my car, I went over there and there wasn’t an attendant in sight. I thought if I just eased my way into the tunnel the magic would begin but it never did and so I came out and circled around to the…
I could have written when I woke up this morning, while the house was quiet and I was snug under my Christmas quilt. I could have told about all the things I’d eaten the night before, and how I was in no hurry to scarf down breakfast. I could have expounded on the many virtues of my host, or how Bowling Green has a few things I wish we had in Sevier County, Tennessee. Like the Tostitos Salsa Verde chips I was finally able to procure. But at least we didn’t have any kind of weather to write home about. I was thankful for calm skies this trip. I could have written from the passenger seat of the Ford as we made our way back home, via the circuitous path via Portland that pains me, apart from the giant strawberries and Hereford bull. I could have told you about the nice man at the gas station who has a truck just like this one, and how we wants a diesel F250 and a fifth wheel in order to travel indefinitely. I told him to go for it. I could have collected my thoughts, at least, so when I sat down to write tonight, in the soft glow of my still-decorated Christmas tree, I would have a real topic and an idea of what my first post of the new year should say. I would appear to you as a responsible adult with clear goals and the capabilities…
I spent four minutes watching youThis morningI won’t say wasted–But it wasn’t like I didn’t have anything else to doYou were mesmerizing!Think of it, a lowly wormCapturing my attentionAs you crossedThe handicap spotIn the parking lotI started to help you on your wayBut you were doing fineAnd I didn’t know where you were going, anyway,Although you seemed Very SureI watched over youTo protect youFrom a hungry birdOr unaware driverBut really I watchedJust for meWhere did you come fromWhat made you set out on this adventureHow far are you goingAnd once you got to the grassI breathed a little easierAnd you did, tooAs you took a rest under the leafAnd for a momentI thought I could hear you celebrate your victoryYou made itCongratulations, worm, and thank you…
No ships for me this morning No stroll for me today No bloody marys on the beachNo sunburn on the wayIt’s the tweeting of little songbirdsThe scolding of the squirrelsThe dew thick upon the fescueThe buzzards as they whirlThe mountains call me homeI see them in the distanceThe air has cooled the light has changedThe mosquitoes are persistent My old front porch beckonsAnd I reflect upon this lifeI’ll sit right here with my beerAnd bid the South goodnight…
Once upon a time, there was a girl named Anna.She always seemed so worldy, even though we were the same age. She delighted in being Southern, and knew all about growing a garden even though she lived in a house in a subdivision. She had a raspy smoker’s voice, even at 15, because she smoked. She smoked because her mother smoked, and her mother probably smoked because her father smoked. She was wild; she was as close to free as you can be at sixteen. Maybe it was because she had two older brothers and her mom was tired. Maybe her mom was depressed. Is there a difference?At any rate, Anna rarely said no, and was always available to run to Long John Silvers for a box of crunchies, sunroof open, ashes flying out the window as she shifted with her cigarette clenched between her teeth. There was always some guy hollering, and she, without fail, had a contact for buying cigarettes, booze, or pot. She was one of the first people I ever knew that bleached her hair with more than lemon juice and crossed fingers while laying in a plastic chair in the yard for hours on end.She was a little fast for me, and I didn’t see much of her after she dropped out to complete her GED.Anna had a tinkly laugh, a carefree demeanor, and would give you her last stick of Big Red gum.I saw her…
Oh, y’all. So, I bought this beehive for work. Well, work bought the beehive. For an educational tool. It’s pretty cool, I have posters with pictures and fun facts in the frames. Way more fascinating than the dumb Enviroscape. So I wanted to paint the beehive because it came as unfinished yellow pine. I wanted to paint it traditional white and then paint cute little colorful flowers all over it, like a meadow. And I’ve made two trips to Hobby Lobby for cute little bumblebee adornments and paint. And also, today, I visited Lowe’s for the plain exterior white paint. Did you know they make you pay for the little opener tool? 68 cents! I didn’t get one, I figured I could open it with a screwdriver. Where there’s a will, there’s a way, and generally, I can gather the will. After the hassle of getting our tax exemption number input to their system, I have returned to the office with my wares. I take the items back to the supply room where my beehive is stored. I’m not going to paint today because it’s too late in the day to start, it’s dreary and overcast and I’m not dressed for painting, nor do I have a bucket. I envision a sunny day, me out by the picnic table in a smock and beret, paintbrush between my teeth…
On April 25th, 2014, I visited two bedsides at the local hospital. One belonged to a friend who had just delivered a baby, the other a friend who was slipping from this world and reaching for Heaven. One room was joyful, with friends and family packed in among flowers and balloons, the other, quiet and nearly barren. That was a difficult day. But one of my more eloquent friends so gracefully reminded me that it was a great blessing to witness both new beginnings and near departures. So I’m remembering those wise words today. Yesterday afternoon, I was fortunate enough to witness my good friends’ daughter march across the stage, composed but jubilant, in her Valedictorian robe. There was much celebration and a few happy tears for this new adventure in Lindsey’s life. Lindsey is no slacker; she’s been brought up to be kind, first and foremost, and to study hard and work harder. Hard work pays off, and the little squirt is sitting on $50,000 in scholarships, not least of all from our beloved Patron Saint Dolly Parton. Next stop Rocky Top, as her mortarboard proclaimed. 5′ 2″, 105 pounds, and solidly 4.0 (even though she’s really a 10), FFA president and counter help at the Co-op, Lindsey is top of her class both literally and figuratively. She’s went from a timid little grasshopper of a child, to a poised young lady I…
People with a disregard for common courtesy often like to tout that you don’t have to explain yourself to anyone. And this is sometimes true. But I know how easy it is to have your feelings hurt if you’re just left out in the cold with no explanation for behavior whatsoever. So here is my explanation. I didn’t call you back because you called later than I care to talk. I didn’t call you back because I already needed to call my aunt back, and I had no intention of doing that, either. I didn’t call you back because I was fixing supper, and I wanted to read a minute, and I still hadn’t showered, and I had an early morning today. I didn’t call you back because I was afraid you’d want to talk a long time. I didn’t call you back because I’d had a busy, socially filled-to-the-brim kind of day already. I didn’t call you back because I had company. I was talking to my neighbor. I didn’t call you back because I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to talk to you. And there are your reasons, since you so desire them. So now I hope that the next time you want to ask someone why they didn’t call you back, you’…
