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Amy
It wouldn’t hurt so bad if he had been suffering for ages. It wouldn’t hurt so bad if our last meeting hadn’t ended so abruptly. It wouldn’t hurt so bad if he had lived a good long life, if he had been as old as Methuselah. He just had so much left to do. It wouldn’t hurt so bad if he had lived to see the grandbabies. It wouldn’t hurt so bad if she had gone unexpectedly quick, like the wind blowing out a flame. It wouldn’t have hurt so bad if she had known us at the end. It wouldn’t be so hard if we could have said goodbye. It wouldn’t hurt so bad if…if…if, if, if. If. But the truth is, the only way it wouldn’t hurt so bad is if we hadn’t loved them. And if they hadn’t loved us back. But yet we tell ourselves these lies, attempting to masquerade our grief, and make excuses for why we sob as they slipped from this life into the next one. Isn’t this true for anybody you lose? Anyone you cared for? Eight years ago, Colonel Thomas made me a promise via Facebook messenger. “Please don’t die,” I wrote, somewhat beseechingly. I was at KFC with Uncle Dale, immediately following the funeral of Joe…
It’s rained at the Plantation all day. I don’t mind. As I’ve said before, it gives me justification for staying home and doing nothing. Not that I’ve done nothing. I fixed breakfast (the biscuits were of the frozen variety, but the from-scratch ones are time consuming and we never can eat them all), washed a load of laundry, fixed hot dogs on white bread (how can I remember to buy cole slaw, macaroni salad, and chili but not buns?!), finished one book and started another (The Nightingale & The Winter People, if you’re interested), and updated my Goodreads. Six books so far this year. Goal is 75. Staying off social media helps, and I’ve discovered I’m not hardly missing a thing. I baked sugar cookies and iced them then added hot pink crystal sprinkles, because sprinkles help everything. I’ve certainly needed my allocation of sprinkles lately. Johnny put together my step stool yesterday. It’s pretty cool, very retro, and also very red. I’m short, and since we don’t have chairs in the dining room anymore, just those benches for the table; I had to have something. I had been using a cube of Mountain Dew, but as much as I weigh I decided that wasn’t a sound idea. Plus it looks cute at the counter. My great grandmother had one just like it…
Usually by the time you find out you’re dying there’s no time to complete your bucket list. Hopefully by the time you are dying you almost welcome it, because you’re tired, or you’ve been sick so long it’s almost a relief. If you’re of the few who have the supreme misfortune of being in your right mind in a semi decent state of health beyond the disease that is killing you quick, all you can think of are the normal plans you had: spending time with your grandkids, where you were gonna plant what in the garden this year, and what car shows you planned to attend with your recently acquired dream machine. But you can’t even do the simple things, let alone the amazing fun things because you’re too damn sick to move. No Alaskan cruise, no trip to Greece, no skydiving. No more trips to your favorite restaurant and no last chance to see your favorite band perform one last time. I would like to write more but my tears will not allow it. While it would be a blessing to have the few days or weeks left with your family and friends… and to know, to be able to prepare and say your goodbyes…it is still a hardship filled with heartbreak. Death touches us all eventually. Please don’t shield your children from it, it is a…
This book will not haunt me. It will live in me from here on out. I am completely swept away by emotion, from each radium girl to the author as she researched and wrote every painstaking word. It is wonderful and heartbreaking and unbelievable and disgusting. It runs the gamut of feelings and takes hold and makes you wonder what we could be thoughtlessly ingesting. It also makes me pause and give thanks to these women who were not silent, but I feel have been overlooked. Living close to Oak Ridge it resonates with me. I take for granted being safe and guarded from potential nuclear fallout. What could I have been exposed to if it weren’t for these women? And oh how they suffered for it! Needless to say I loved this book. And it would be a fantastic choice for required reading senior year, just as young women are hoping the workforce. Five blazing stars for a story well told. Justice was brought to these pages for the women who didn’t get a voice until it was way too late. What a horrifying ordeal. I have wept and wept. I do wish it had more pictures, but maybe they would tarnish the ideals I have in my head of these radiant girls. I need to go out and buy 50 copies so I can give one to everybody I meet for awhile. Until I can do so, buy it right here…
I think I’m a few summers too numerous to call myself “basic”…and girl is probably a stretch at this age, too. But I don’t think I’m a ma’am most days and I certainly don’t feel like a lady…it’s my mouth, mainly. I’m not really basic in the ways of an American young woman is defined, anyway. I’m basic in that I like simple things that everybody else in their right mind likes too: chocolate, yoga pants, puppies, candles. I’m TRULY basic in that I like coffee from the coffee pot here at the Plantation and not from the overpriced hurriedly attended wildly popular chain cafe. I’m basic in that I wear sweatshirts and if I remember to wear earrings, I’m accessorized. I’m basic in that I don’t play games and if I don’t like you, you probably knew it right off the bat. But yet here I am with my unruly hair and smart mouth and birthday from the end of the seventies writing on my blog. ANYWAY, it feels a little snotty to be complaining about my blog but I really hate it. I constantly feel pressured to write one, and I want to write more but I really don’t have time and since changing jobs I have found that…
January Writing Challenge, Day 1 Unopened. There lies one present under my tree. It is unopened. It belongs to my cousin, and since I don’t see her very often it will probably remain unopened until next year. Does that make me sound cheap? I’ll probably find something else between now and then that I will be unable to resist buying, so no worries. I also had to open one of Johnny’s presents today-an audio book i bought by accident instead of the paperback he wanted. But it’s ok, he was still really excited about it. Even after we realized I had bought book 2. I mean, how bad can I screw up a simple gift, I ask you? Evidently pretty badly, because it was an MP3 that won’t even play in a CD player so now I have to burn it onto my laptop to put over on a CD. Did I mention it came after Christmas, to beat all? Christmas presents sure can be a lot of trouble. I also ordered him part one today. So he’s got another present on the way to open. Last year I got my mermaid phone cover after Christmas, and it’s been one of those enduring gifts that make me smile every time I see it. Strangers really like it, too. She’s fabulous. Anyway. Unopened. I guess that’…
What is with all the hate of 2017? All these people kicking it to the curb! Shoot, it ain’t nothing to do with the year. It’s just…shit happens. I don’t think January 1st is going to bring some great light shining on you pointing the way to happiness and dreams fulfilled. New Years isn’t magical. You’ve got to stick it out, suck it up, and go out searching for the next big thing. We can’t have everything we want! I would have liked to have seen the Vols play for the SEC Championship. I would also have liked to seen a size 8 again, but I’m not willing to give up my sedentary lifestyle or vast amounts of cupcakes I consume. I would like certain people to live for a good long time and others can drop–well. You get my point. I’m not much for resolutions. I fail at every turn, why would I subject myself to more misery? One year I said I wanted to stop gossiping. We all know how that worked out. One year I wanted to keep a journal. Um. One year I wanted to lose weight. Bahahahahahhaahahaahaha!!!!! But you know, this year, I’m going to change a few things. I have to buy less, because I’m going to have to make a major purchase in…
Baking is finicky business. You have to be precise in your measurements, read everything carefully, use name brand everything (because fats in butters vary from the good stuff to the mediocre, and store bought sugar is heavier because it’s sifted more…which you would think would be a good thing.) This is three cups of sugar, six eggs, three cups of sifted flour, three sticks of butter, a block of cream cheese MESS. I have rarely been so disappointed for anything in my life. I have also rarely been as ill-prepared. Here was the trouble: I’ve been kinda sick. Not like, throwing up, circling the drain sick, more of the snotty nosed variety that induces whining. I had promised to make the following for Christmas dinner: mashed potatoes, sausage balls, and a cream cheese pound cake. Nevermind that I have never made a pound cake in my life. I had bought a huge box of Philadelphia cream cheese at Sam’s Club a few weeks before Thanksgiving in preparation for the upcoming sausage ball making holiday ahead. But I forgot I had done so, and found it on sale at Food City so I bought the requisite three. Imagine my dismay, er, surprise, when I went to put it in the cheese drawer at home. So all there was to do was make a cheesecake. Have you ever actually made a cheesecake? Or have you only ever selfishly devoured them without…
I spend a lot of time exclaiming, “People are so stupid!!! I don’t know how they manage to get home!!!” If you’ve spent any amount of time around me, or heck, reading my posts, you know this is true. I was provided a near-constant parade of examples in my years behind the counter at Co-op, but really it’s on permanent display wherever I roam. So I don’t go out much. I prefer my hermit lifestyle. This weekend found me making treats for Johnny’s guys and the crews at my work. I made an 8×13 of millionaire bars, two runs of peanut butter cookies (that yields about six cookie sheets worth, to give you an idea), and three batches of chocolate no bakes. I was at it all day yesterday, and went through 10 pounds of sugar, eight sticks of butter, a giant jar of peanut butter, and a dozen eggs. Yeah. I wanted to send a big canister of cookies to my friend the retired air force colonel because he’s been having a rough go of it and peanut butter cookies are one of his very most favorite things in the whole world. I was up at five this morning finishing baking and got his all packaged up in about a quart size tin featuring pine cones. I took the little treat bags in a giant Cracker Barrel…
