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Amy
It’s been awhile since I’ve written one of these. Find joy where you can. I like when the sun shines on snow and makes it sparkle. I like Christmas decorations, except Santa. I like Johnny Depp’s movies. I’d like an opportunity to find out if I’d like him in person. I like reading real books, except when it’s dark- then I like my Kindle. I like trips. Short ones, long ones, on a plane or in a car. To the city, to the sea. I like trees and I will cry if deprived of them for an extended period. I like magnolias and live oaks best of all. I like dogs with spots. I like drinking cold beer on warm nights outside. I like seeing 4-wheel drives that look like they’re actually taken off-road. I like corny jokes. I like being near water. I like all the items on the Chickalay menu. Except that kale stuff. That should go without saying. And the macaroni, which I have not tried. I like watching groundhogs. I like driving when there’s not much traffic and the road spreads out before me. I like going 100. I like flowers, but not the common ones. Keep your roses and daisies and babies breath. And your carnations, too. Bring me daffodils and dahlias and foxglove and lilies. I like people that tell the truth. I like my red…
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I’ve been having that anxious, at ends, nothing-is-quite-right feeling for some time now. When in truth, everything is better than it has been for awhile. But my brain never has paid much attention to black and white facts. I had been blaming my coffee; I’ve taken it back up in earnest with the temperature recently plummeting. And I’m glad of it, make no mistake. but then I got to thinking. I haven’t written anything in quite some time. So I decided to write. But it’s a mine field. Nothing feels like a safe topic. Do I pour my guts out and make myself cry? That would be stupid. Do I slash someone else’s guts out and hope I make them cry? That’s not very nice. So I’m just gonna start, innocuously enough, with fog. Fog is appropriate for these -ber months. I prefer it only in October, though, when it’s setting you up for the spooky holiday at the end of the month. And it just occurred to me–wouldn’t it be nice if ALL holidays fell on the last day of the month? That way, you’ve got the enitre month to prepare and celebrate early, if you wish. You don’t have to keep up with if it’s the first Monday of the month, or the third Thursday, or anything…
I was working on one of those time-wasting questionnaires on Facebook this morning. I need an activity while I drink my coffee, otherwise my dog thinks it’s my job to pet him with my free hand. And I DO pet him, but it’s never enough. He is such an indulged glutton. Anyway, I’m whizzing right along answering the “Adult” questions- no, no, not like that, they were the style of “what bill do you hate the most?” and “which housecleaning chore do you put off until you hate yourself?”, stuff like that. Then one gave me pause. “Found Love Yet?” Well helllll-o. Of course if you live past the age of seventeen you’ve found love. But did love reciprocate? As you grow older, you come to realize that love isn’t just about spending the rest of your days with another human you’ve found attractive. Well, I hope you realize it, anyway. You’ve loved your whole life. You loved your mother, you loved macaroni and cheese, you loved your tire swing, you loved your mangy dog. Whatever. But of course this shallow test didn’t mean that. It meant the “traditional” sense of finding love. Well, sure I found it. And it was reciprocated. And we were bound by vows given in fancy attire in front of our closest 125 friends in the sweltering…
I’ve been poisoning the ants at work for some time. I can’t tell that there have been any long term effects. I KNOW Terro works, I’ve used it for years at home and recommended it to countless people. I have had to hear people groan that they’re only feeding them, because you don’t actually get the enjoyment of watching their little bodies keel over, as it is a bait- they carry it back to their Motherland to be put in the catacombs and clutches for the entire colony to divide and consume. Socialism, I say. So anyway, about a week ago, I had stuck some Eggos in the toaster and topped them with blueberries. One can’t have fresh blueberry waffles without whipped cream, so I was squirting it artfully around when I ran out. You know what happens when you reach the end of a can of Redi Whip? I’ll tell you, it ain’t pretty. You don’t even get a warning. Everything is going fine, and then it suddenly isn’t. The little globs of cream shoot haphazardly all over the place. It was on the counter, in the sink, probably dripping off the cabinet. I had whipped cream dotting my arms, my shirt, my glasses. But I’m not one to let a little mess stand between me and breakfast. I went ahead and ate. When I took my…
I hope you have a friend that sits. I hope you have someone who won’t ask questions, or tell you what they would do in your shoes, or how they’ve handled a similar situation. I hope you have a friend that sits. I hope you have a friend that will take you to a restaurant and buy your lunch, and not expect you to eat a bite. I hope you have a friend that will ask the waiter for a box while you cry quietly. I hope you have a friend that will come pick you up and take you to church with them and sit, holding your hand as you weep into their shoulder. I hope you have a friend that sits. I hope you have a friend that opens their home to you when you cannot bear to be alone. I hope they putter around busily, making dinner and coffee and maybe baking a cake for a coworker. I hope you have a friend that is kind and quiet and keeps the TV on the cooking channel. I hope your friend has a dog. Because dogs help everything. And dogs sit, too. I hope you have a friend that isn’t ashamed to have no other purpose than to be on suicide watch because they love you. I hope you have a friend that goes with you when you’re ready, no matter what it is you’re ready for. I…
One tear Waits for its companion On the curve of an eyelash It doesn’t have to wait long, and they are replaced by another And another And another Let me go I want to scream You sacrificed nothing And I want to be untethered And without remorse But I must settle for drowning In sorrow In pear wine In my solitude With only tears That never stop falling It is summer It is always summer When he emerges No matter where he’s been But I won’t save him again…
Here lies a square spade shovelThat could quickly dispose of youIf I could get a good enough swing for momentum Or maybe this wine bottleRecently emptied by yours trulyWould do the trick with more grace I always thought poison would be the way to goBut to get you drunk enough to take itTakes too long Of course a bullet would be the fastest and easiestBut it’s too cold hearted and detachedTo suit me My favoriteIs the hands-on murderI don’t hire a manOr sabotage your truckOr even consult a Voodoo Priestess No. I fantasize about grabbing you by the throatWhen you lean in to try to kiss me goodbye- what would your girlfriend say about that, I wonder-And sinking a butcher knife into your neckAnd watch your eyes widenWith recognitionAs you realize I hate youAs much as I ever loved you.And forgiveness will not come from me…
This is it. The end. And I just found out I’ve been doing it wrong all along. Today’s challenge I saved for last. That’s a lie. I put it off till last. Because I didn’t “have time”. I should have started with it, and used it as a guide the whole way. But no. I thought I knew best. What a joke. As a reader, I am constantly finding things I want to read and people are relentless in their recommendations to me. As I am to them. And I appreciate it! I have found many great reads from the persuasion of others. But what with book club, and books I have had on loan through READS for eons, plus the ones I continue to buy and pile up, I am inundated with material. So when I asked my Aunt Brenda what to pray for and what to fast in her honor, and she said, “I want you to read the book of Matthew,” I will admit, I swallowed hard and immediately began thinking, “well, I’ve got plenty of time to get to it.” And here I am, on the last day, middle of the afternoon, a full six Lent writings behind, and only in the eighth chapter of 28. The reading isn’t hard, and it is quite enlightening, the stories familiar and comforting, but I don’t think I’…
Last week was Library Appreciation Week. I only posted one thing about it, but I think I post often enough so everybody knows where I stand on libraries. In case you recently crawled out from under a lettuce leaf, know that I LOVE them. I don’t know that I can adequately put into words what the library means to me. But I’m gonna try my best. Even though I’m more than a week late. I’m always late. And before I forget, that cover pic was taken by Liz Ballard, who truly has a history with our local library. I didn’t ask for permission, but I don’t think she’ll mind. I have served on the local library board for several years now, and it looks like I’m going off next month to serve on the Regional Board. Anyway, that’s the least of my love. QUITE literally. Board meetings are typically endured, not always enjoyed. Even though they try to make it cool. Here’s our meeting room: But that’s part of adulting. The good news is, it allows me to know what events are coming up before anybody else 😀 I have a lifespan of memories at the library. It brought tears to my eyes when I was asked to serve. My mind flashed back to all the times I’d walked through the door, clutching my satchel, ready to…
