read more posts by
Amy
Like, restaurant? Or locale? Or city? I don’t know, and it seems unfair to only list one, so I’ll do three. Place to eat: Aubrey’s. Good food, drinks, and atmosphere. I always have a good time, no matter what time of day or who I’m with. I used to frequent the one off Papermill nearly every Tuesday afternoon, meeting a friend for $2 pints. Eventually, I transitioned to the one at Strawberry Plains due to traffic and I was kind of outgrowing the bar scene. Now I have one in my worktown! Lunch spot!! The food is excellent, with emphasis on local meats and produce. The ambiance is warm and it the restaurant is clean. The waiters are attentive and friendly, the TVs are always set on something of interest (as if I actually watch them), and the bartenders have never let me go dry. They will even mix you up something special if you don’t see anything to your fancy on the menu or you’re feeling adventurous. Locale: I really like the Apple Barn. Especially now that they have a brewery. I always feel right at home. It’s so homey & cozy, and I’ve bought several decorative items in the barn. The best thing about the restaurant, besides the creaking, gleaming, burnished yellow pine floors, is the apple fritters. Gah. I can taste them now and my mouth is watering. There aren’…
#1) A song you like with a color in the title: Blue on Black Kenny Wayne Shepherd #2) A song you like with a number in the title: 9 to 5, Dolly Parton (clackety clackety clack clack clack) #3) A song that reminds you of summertime: Cruel Summer, Bananarama #4) A song that reminds you of someone you would rather forget about: Cheatin’, Sara Evans 🙂 #5) A song that needs to be played LOUD: Kryptonite, Three Doors Down #6) A song that makes you want to dance: Candyman, Christina Aquilera #7) A song to drive to: Nightrain, GNR #8) A song about drugs or alcohol (Aren’t they all?): Semi Charmed Life, Third Eye Blind…which I didn’t KNOW was a song about drugs until about ten years after the fact….so naive #9) A song that makes you happy: My Church Maren Morris #10) A song that makes you sad: I Can Still Make Cheyenne by George Strait #11) A song that you never get tired of: Wagonwheel, Old Crow Medicine Show #12) A song from your preteen years: Enter Sandman, Metallica #13) One of your favorite 80’s songs: No question. Billie Jean, by the King of Pop, Michael Jackson #14) A song that you would love played at your wedding: Long Legged Guitar Pickin’ Man….what? Did you expect something romantic? You know me but not at all #15) A song that is a cover by another artist…
I’m sorry I was lateI was taking pictures of the sunriseIt wasn’t that I meant to linger so longBut it was so beautiful It kind of took my breathAnd there was an incident With coffee spilledAnd it never failsWhen I’m short on time There’s someone out for a Sunday driveOn a Tuesday morningAt 7:30My apologies For not paying attentionBut I was watching the crowsAnd wondering what all the fuss was aboutMy mind constantly wandersAnd I compose poetryIn my headAbout beautyAnd graceBut most of all strength…and sometimes foodThere’s always loveI apologize for keeping you waitingBut I smudged my mascara When I sneezedAnd I want to appear perfectJust every now and thenI wish I could Make you understandWhy I want to drink you like waterAnd I just want you near all the timeBut until you feel that wayYou can never understandI think this has gone on long enoughGod pushes us togetherEvery time there’s a breakAnd you’ve noticed it, tooYou’ve driven me to distractionAt least a dozen times a dayI will you to keep me updatedOn all the little TinyInsignificant(To you)Things that make up your lifeNot because I’m boredBut I miss having a person To think aboutAnd pray for their happinessAnd I’m sorry I cry when I read this to youBut I can’t help itAnd there goes my mascara again…
I start these blogs and I never really know where I’m going. Or I do know where I’m going, but not how I’m going to get there. Did you know that Gone With the Wind was written backwards? True story. Mrs. Mitchell knew how she wanted it to end, but not how she was going to develop the plot to that outcome. So, like Margaret Mitchell, I don’t know how long this blog is going to be. I expect it to be one of my rare short ones, but you never know. As I type, I’m thinking about typing on the typewriter yesterday. I have to fill out 1099’s at my job. The government does not accept PDF fillable forms. I can mail this type to the producers, but I have to have one red copy to send to the IRS. And if I’m gonna do that, they’re attached to carbon copies, so why would I bother making separate ones on the computer? What I’m getting at is typing on a computer is far removed from the days of the typewriter. I will liken it to the days of film, versus the digital cameras we have today. You got one shot- don’t mess it up. You have to be perfect the first time, as soon as you mash the button. It’s permanent. You had to be sure. There…
Dear Santa, I hope this letter finds you warm and well at the North Pole. I also would like to extend my condolences to Mrs. Claus, who is probably the most harried woman in the hemisphere right now. Although some of my mom friends are snorting with derision, no doubt. Hey, they brought it on themselves. Dern kids. I was never taught to believe in you. I think I waited until third grade to ruin it for everybody else, though. Seemed like about time to be growing up and putting away the foolishness. But as I’ve grown older, I’ve found Santa in some. Really, it’s Jesus but some of these good people are self-proclaimed atheists, so let’s just agree to disagree, yes? In the spirit of Christmas and all. So what I’m writing to say, is what everyone writes to you about- my wishes. I’ve been good….but I’ve also been bad. To be honest, it’s probably an even split. I won’t even try to convince you, you see me when I’m sleeping, you know when I’m awake…but even you gotta admit, Santa, that I got pushed to the edge and when I’m cornered….well, it ain’t pretty. I normally wouldn’t write on behalf of anybody but there are people in my life that…
From June 12th, 2019: I haven’t written anything in awhile, I know. Slap me with your splintered ruler. (Any Alanis fans out there?) It feels like a waste when I don’t write, like I’m throwing away perfectly good food that I’ve allowed to rot simply because I forgot to eat it. Yes, that happens more often than I care to admit. But I sit and I try to think if I have anything worthy to share. And most times, I don’t. So I don’t write one day. And one day turns to two, and that stretches into a week, and before I know it, a month has gone by and I haven’t shared a word. Because I don’t have anything much to say. Oh, I’m doing stuff, and I do have topics I’d like to write about, but most people have an idea of me: that I’m fairly happy-go-lucky, apart from my occasional outburst on fast lane slow drivers and what have you. The truth is, sometimes I feel like I have bees in my head searching for a place to build a hive. It’s a relentless buzzing as they dart here, there, and yon, smacking into the sides of my skull and flying into each other because their radar doesn’t work in such close quarters at warp speed. Occassionally it’…
I’ve changed my mind. The gateway drug isn’t alcohol. How could I be so stupid? It is, of course, love. Love will make you do some crazy shit. And once you lose it, you try to get it back. Enter alcohol. But love is definitely our first drug. It produces feelings of euphoria. It makes us hallucinate- we see things through rose-colored glasses, do we not? Everything is touched with gold. Everything is surrounded by warmth and light and goodness. And we can’t get enough, we want more, more, more. We burn with it. We spend money on it, trying to make sure the object of our affection sees how much we’ll sacrifice for it. We cut ties with people who don’t like our love interest. We stop seeing friends in order to see our “soul mate” more. It’s not healthy. Nothing is in excess. But when you are enjoying riding the high, you don’t think about the repercussions. You don’t want to temper it. We trade passionate love for other kinds of love when we can’t get the kind of love we want. We shower love on family, on friends, on pets, on making a home. Sometimes this is enough. And sometimes it’s not. And when it’s not, what then? Do you seclude yourself and play music? Furiously scribble some angst-y poetry? Maybe…
The cursor blinks in time….wait…wait…wait… My dog snores. I chew my fingernails.I don’t need to have a radio goingOr a TVOr someone here incessantly chattingIt’s not unnervingTo live alone In a house haunted by my grandmother–it’s true! But it’s worrysome To think about falling down the stairsAnd nobody realizing anything is amissUntil MondayWhen I fail to show up for workAnd maybe not even then…I try to be cautious.Someday I hope to have steadfast companionshipBut so far There’s been a drought One might sayA moonscape of desolationBut my life doesn’t look bad, per seI’ve traveledI’ve lovedI’ve lostI’ve lost booksearringsmoneyfriendspatience But not weightNot latelyThere are worse things Sour in my mouth when I think ofFireDebtCancerBlindnessAddiction Athiesm Not taking a chanceLight as a featherCozy in my nestThoughts of fishing Whole days spent waiting for a tugPoetry in motion EverywhereMy dog snores onHe’s a grumpy chunkFat ‘n sassy, like his mommaWho writes poetry In the premature winter night…
Do you pause to count the church bellsto make sure that they’re rightOr do you listen to hear the reverberations and look for the pigeons in flightDo you chew your food slowlyand remark on each flavor Or do you rush and drink awayall that you could savorDo you ever stop to photograph the daffodilsthat grow thick in the hope of springOr must you hurry to your next conquestnot thinking of the brightness they would bringDo you linger over a passage in a bookscribbling a note in the marginOr do you keep your ears tuned to the TVand all the senseless jargonDo you ever wonder what goes onin the lives we see on FacebookOr do you think it’s close enough to truthnot bothering to pursue a deeper lookDo you stand at the edge of the oceanand let the sand be sucked from beneath your toesOr do you stay within your phone all dayand wonder if you captured your best poseDo you know the difference between someone who’s happyfor themselvesand someone who’s living to make someone else happy? Can you recognize the look in their eyes? Can you see what they need? Can you define it yourself? Who are YOU, without your husband or children? What makes you you, with your flawed teeth that braces never really fixed? Can you say the alphabet backwards? Can you drive a boat onto a trailer? Can you read music, recite poetry? Can you paint the way light falls on water? Can…
I once owned the best horse in the world. It’s true, everybody wanted him. He was a perfect blood bay, no markings. Oh, he had about four white hairs where a star would have formed if hairs multiplied like fungi, but they don’t, so no star. He was 15.2 hands, and finely muscled from carrying me around for a minimum of two hours every day. I fed him an all-grain mix, heavy with molasses, cut with a bag of 12% sweet feed because I hadn’t been educated. And of course, I added a supplement for hoof growth, one that’s probably not around anymore, replaced by a fancier, daily-dose, with more attractive packaging, and marketed on all the right websites. I fed a supplement derived from seaweed and it worked great but smelled terrible. But my beautiful Saddlebred consumed it willingly. This horse would walk through fire for me. He was spirited, and every time I lost my balance, I could feel him shift to accommodate by oaf-like tendencies. He tried to help me look graceful. But I sometimes still wound up on the ground, and he would stop, and look down at me pityingly…maybe with a touch of disdain. I’d dust my breeches off and climb back on, shaking my head at myself. He was beautiful, and people would stop their cars in the middle of the road to watch us. I’m…
