read more posts by
Amy
I should probably use this prompt to go off on a tangent. There are many controversial subjects itching at my fingertips, but instead, I’m gonna write about this: The handwritten note. I remember in fourth grade, our entire class had pen pals. They lived in San Bernardino, California. Mine was a boy….I think his name was Derek. It could just as easily have been Daniel. Or David. Or Eric. Or Steve. Who knows, the letters are long gone but I remember wanting to continue writing after we finished our required number of correspondence. Of course we didn’t. He was game, but somebody has to take initiative and no doubt, I had a horse to brush or a book to read. I wonder what ever happened to him. Where our lives have taken us since those long ago carefree days. He could be a firefighter or a lawyer or a park ranger. He could be pouring asphalt or working on cars or cutting up asparagus.He could have a houseful of kids or maybe he’s in prison for beating his wife. He could be a jewelry maker or living under a bridge. He could be living in Portugal or Paris, or maybe even East Tennessee. It’s untelling. And he could be gone already. I’m a big believer in thank you notes. And I still owe a few. If you’ve ever received one from me, you probably had…
Well, this is involved. I’ve just picked up Jewel’s Never Broken today. As in, I actually opened the cover, not went out to the store and bought it. I’ve had it for awhile. But here’s a link, if you’re so inclined to have your own copy. I love her. https://amzn.to/2TcG39I It starts with an “Ode To My Fortieth Birthday” style poem, which I found poignant. I’m not even fifty pages in, and she’s breaking my heart. I feel a kindred spirit to Jewel, always have. She loves the wilderness and grew up out in the Alaskan territory on horseback. She writes many of her own songs, and I admire her resiliency. I think this will be an insightful book, not only into her life, but mine as well. If I weren’t so ashamed of my library right now, I’d post a few pictures of it. How ’bout I just post some oldies instead?Welcome to my abode. I have read a great many of these pictured, but I would say 50% remain unread. I just love them. This is my utopia. It’s a dream I’ve always had, to be able to walk into my own library and select a book at random. I’m pretty sure I’ll like whatever I’ve picked up because, after all, it’…
I’m out of order and all to hell and I’m sorry. I had written a few blogs as bonuses and then got out of whack and so I’m trying to do better this week. Maybe if it snows I can get caught up. I’m apologizing to myself as much as you, because I need to write as much as I need to breathe. And here we go. {WP #635 The real reason people have freckles} As a child, I remember a sweet red haired lady telling me not to be embarrassed by my freckles, that they were God’s kisses. Obviously, she was as Irish as they come. But NOW I know the real reason. Those of us born under a waxing crescent or a full strawberry moon in June are fey. That is, magic. If you’ve ever known someone who was energetic and charismatic, chances are they are Gemini. If they were of these moons, they are also spritely. They probably drive you a little crazy. They can’t help it. It’s like their brains can only light on subjects for a short while and then they’re distracted by dandelion seeds floating on the breeze and they must follow them to find where they lead. You’ll know them by their freckles. Usually they have to come into their “power”, for lack of a better term. They are often ridiculed…
Every time I think about Batman, all I can think of is this blue heeler I once knew. They have very pointy upright ears. I was lying on the couch, watching a movie, the lights down low. The dog heard something that we didn’t, and sat up slowly with perked ears. All you could really make out was the silhouette. “I’m Batman,” Greg said. I nearly fell off the couch laughing. Batman Forever was a movie I watched in the movies right after it came out. I fell in love with Chris O’Donnel and have never truly recovered. I kinda think Meredith is warped for not pursuing the relationship with him on Grey’s Anatomy. He was a vet, after all. Two points. And that’s all I have to say about that…
I’m gonna tell y’all one story, although I have hundreds relating to deer. It is the account of the one time I went deer hunting. I know what you’re thinking: “Amy? In the woods? To shoot a deer?” I know, it’s preposterous. There are ticks there. And deer are graceful and agile and beautiful….and I’m so decidedly NOT. I was eleven years old. My uncle, having decided there were no boys forthcoming in the family, had taken me under his supervision for all things outdoors. It started simply enough, with frisbee throwing. I was the blue ribbon winner of my Kindergarten class on Field Day. And Field “Day” used to be a week, in my glory days. But it looked weird when I typed it. Uncle Dale also taught me a great many more things, including varieties of trees, how to tie my lures, how to fish, how to clean a fish, how to double knot my shoelaces so I wouldn’t eat dirt, how to shoot a pistol, a rifle, AND a muzzleloader. I assisted him when he processed deer, and I picked up sticks for the duration of my childhood under his watchful eye. He gave me my first dog and my first knife. He gave me $5.00 for my own crawdad lure, but he didn’t buy me a My Little Pony kite from McDonalds. He’s…
I used to never hit snooze. Now I hit it almost every morning, unless there’s a really good song playing. I’m really digging my new station. I like to listen to nearly everything, and they very nearly play everything. Tear in my beer country, pop from the last four decades, Beach Boys and the like, and I guess you could call it Indie Rock for those songs I’m not familiar with. I pet my dog and rub his warm ears. I void my bladder and start drinking water. I do a little virtual farming. I look at the clock. I do a little Facebookin’. I look at the clock and sigh and hop in the shower. I clean my ears with a q-tip even though everyone says you’re not supposed to and that one did come apart on me that time. I scrub my face, scrutinizing it for fading freckles, newly arisen blemishes, and the always present forehead wrinkle. I pick out clothes to match my attitude. Or sometimes, in contrast to my attitude. I pile on the jewelry. I roll my eyes at my fat legs and add cute shoes. I sigh at my hair. I drive and bask in the luxury that is Maggie, reflecting on Patsy and her jarring ride. I sing along to some empowering females, most usually Brandy Clark, Pistol Annies, and Cyndi Lauper. I make coffee. I type, I file, I chat on the…
Of course a January topic would be “New You”. New Year’s Resolutions and all that. Every year I say I’m gonna do better. I’m not gonna cuss so much, I’m gonna quit being such a gossip, I’m gonna stay off the internet and quit ordering books and start reading the ones I already have. It never works. I rarely even make it to the afternoon of January 1st. So this year I said I was gonna write more. I adopted a second writing challenge. I was doing alright till last weekend, when I became a lazy slug. I was exhausted from packing up all my Christmas decorations and I finally had a clean house and I just wanted to lay around and enjoy it. Which I did, and no writing was accomplished. I have also abandoned all hope of keeping my checkbook balanced. I’ll just have to spot check my bank. Or something. *yawn* But I tell you what I HAVE been doing. I’ve started going to spin. Spin? you ask. Yes. That’s a stationary bike that you pedal. And you don’t just pedal lackadaisically, you pedal like the hounds of hell are nipping at your feet. You engage the resistance, and you feel like you’re pedaling underwater because by then you’re sweating so hard you think you’re swimming. I take my glasses off…
On December 13th, my Aunt Brenda and I journeyed to Maryville to pick up the little Nativity figurine. And a slice of cookie cake, turns out. You saw the blog. We were sitting at Chili’s when, for whatever reason, my Dad crossed my mind. I wonder about him every few years or so. I haven’t seen him since I was 18. It’s crossed my mind a hundred times if he even remembers I exist, and said so to Aunt Bren. “Oh, I’m sure he does! He loved you so good. I can still see him holding your little hand as you went across the yard.” This gave me pause. Dad always was good about taking me to feed the cows, taking me fishing, taking me to White Star. I remember him allowing me to ride in the back of his red S-10 pickup, and later attempting to teach me how to drive a 5 speed in his brand spanking new Shelby Mustang in the desolate Kmart parking lot. He had much better luck with the fishing lessons. He took me to Dollywood regularly on our scheduled Sunday visits, and lots of times to McDonalds. I remember he had a goofy laugh, an easy sense of humor, and skinny legs. I have inherited his mischievous blue eyes, snorting laugh, and curly brown hair. Unfortunately, I did not get his skinny legs. So I dwelt on this a bit in the…
I’m here to help because I’m totally exasperated with the male race who pretend not to know ANYTHING about women. Here’s you a How-To. That’s how to make your woman happy. #1) Tell her she looks pretty. Because she does. #2) Tell her her hair looks nice. Because she probably did spend more than thirty seconds on it, like y’all did. We have A LOT MORE HAIR AND IT’S ANNOYING. #3) Hold her hand and open her doors. Take her coat. Walk closest to traffic. Manners. #4) Pick the restaurant. For the love of all things Holy, PICK THE RESTAURANT. We will find something to eat, I assure you. We just don’t want to have to make one more decision on this day. And if we’re craving something, rest assured we’ll tell you what it is. #5) Chick-fil-A is never wrong. #6) Find out her favorite wine and surprise her with it frequently #7) Buy her a pony. 😁 You might wanna put this in your back pocket to save for when you’ve screwed up. #8) Stop by her work. It’s ok to show up empty handed, as long as you’re smiling. #9) Offer to pick up milk and bread. #10) Text her regularly. If you think of her, text her. Even if it’s just an emoji. She won’t mind…
Today was the big day!! Book fair day! This rates right up there with Thanksgiving and my birthday for me. We go to the library, where Rhonda has carefully cultivated a selection of about twenty books for us to choose from. We vote for twelve, and the ones with the highest number of votes go on our list for next year’s book club picks. We’re the Pageturners, so there is always an eclectic mix of current literature, suspense/ thriller, classics, chick lit, fantasy, with maybe a YA or apocalyptic one thrown in. It’s a blast, especially if there’s a tie and the ones who want to read it lobby for more votes. This probably sounds super nerdy to those of you who don’t devour books like the four of us us do, but let me tell you, I look forward to this day all year. Then, we go to the eatery of choice and have dinner and drinks and discuss the previous month’s selection. January’s pick was The Night the Lights Went Out by Karen White. Of course I’ve been fiddle farting around for some time now and didn’t get it read. I’m about halfway, but I had it figured out, for the most part. It didn’t matter. I’m there for the food. I mean, companionship. 😂🤣 We had a great time, discussing everything from Nazis to…
