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Amy
November Writing Challenge Day 13 Water flowed My house is old, as I have mentioned a few times. We frequently have plumbing problems, especially in the sinks. I think we’ve got everything all fixed up now, after many years of not having a working bathroom sink in the bedroom, and then several of not having one in the main bathroom. That means brushing your teeth in the shower and washing your hands in the kitchen sink. The first year I ever cooked a turkey for Thanksgiving, I had a bucket under the sink until we could get Johnny’s buddy Scott the plumber over. I would have cried if it would have helped. Thankfully Johnny is pretty handy and has fixed all the issues that have come our way. Even when he had to cut the backs of the cabinets out and taking a saws-all to my pink bathroom wall. But it’s a small price to pay, I assure you. I remember when we were dating and he was working over in North Carolina, the shower stopped up. I had done everything I knew to do (pouring a gallon of Drain-o in the vicinity of the drain and praying) and it was just at a standstill. I was bemoaning my troubles to him even though he couldn’t do anything. I could clearly visualize the tub rotting and falling through the floor into the basement and then how would I get…
November Writing Challenge, Day 12 It evaded me. Being a bit of a flake, thoughts evade me constantly. Sometimes I’ll be smack dab in the middle of telling a story, get distracted by whatever it may be, and couldn’t tell you for love or money what I had been talking about twenty two seconds prior. I also keep the dictionary app open on my laptop when doing any writing because I can almost think of what I want to say….almost. So if I can put in the word I can think of, I can usually come up with the one I can’t. I’ve never been a hunter, other than that one time, so I don’t have any thrilling stories of how my prey evaded me. What? You wanna hear about the one time? Well sure, I have nothing else to do, besides read a 291 page book by Wednesday for book club. I was in 5th grade and had just completed the Hunter’s Safety Education Course with the rest of my classmates. We’d went out to the dam and shot clay targets with a .410, which was not a big deal, since I’d grown up around a bunch of men that were outdoorsy. Uncle Dale had had me shooting BB guns since I was about 5. (But I still don’t bait my own hook). Anyway, he’d had this…
If you’re one of those readers who has to have a character you identify with, or at least like, this book is not for you. Come to think of it, Gillian Flynn is not for you. The book dragged for me in the middle, hence the four stars. Otherwise, probably her best one. What a tangled web of deceit she weaves! But beyond depressing. What is it with these families in Kansas murdered in their house? Maybe it’s just because I finished In Cold Blood the other day. I do appreciate Gillian Flynn for giving us answers and tying up loose ends…even if they aren’t the answer or the ending you want…
November Writing Challenge Day 11 Walk the dog. I’ve never lived in a place where I had to walk a dog. I did, as a child, have a Greyhound that I entered in the dog show at the fair because I couldn’t enter my Chow Chow; he was a little temperamental. So I walked her in a circle and won a Purina dog bowl and a blue ribbon. She won best in class because she was the only Greyhound anyone had ever seen. Sevier County in the days of yore aren’t like today with all these rescue groups. The majority of dogs spent their life on a chain. The good life meant they had a fence to run around in. One that lived inside was a novelty….and people whispered behind hands not to eat what they brought to dinner, because “they had a dog in the house”. ☺ Now you’re weird if your dog lives outside, and hated by your neighbors if it’s tied. On the other hand, my momma is a yo-yo queen and she can Walk the Dog. All I can do is get tangled. …
November Writing Challenge Day 10 Used tea bags. Are you kidding me with this? What weird little topics they’ve come up with. Well, I do have one thing to say: I do think about reusing them. It seems such a waste to just use them the one time. Especially since I buy the big pouches for the gallon size container. But I also know that tea will mold if left out of the fridge….although I guess I could put it in the fridge but that’s too much aggravation. Then it would be like the half-onions that accumulate in there that grow things after a time. I’ve also heard they’re good for under eye circles but I haven’t tried them. I liked those little fabric cucumber slices that you could keep in your fridge for that. I don’t think anything works but Rodan + Fields, honestly. Their lash boost has made a believer out of me. So. Used tea bags. Hmm. That’s about all I’ve got to say about that…
November Writing Challenge Day 9 No, you don’t. This morning I had a conversation that has haunted me all day. I have the feeling it’s going to last a lot longer. I knew part of his story, but not all. This is the story of a man who changed his life twice. He was a young man with a good job, working as a team lead in the receiving department of a sizeable company. Benefits, decent wages, and a workable schedule. He had a girlfriend with a baby on the way. Not a glamorous life, but an honorable one. And then, as things do, something happened. He met the wrong people, went to the wrong places, and began to do the wrong things. He started selling drugs, which led to doing drugs. He lost his job. He sold a sports car for eight pills. (The equivalent of $200). He lied. He stole his momma’s laptop to hock for drug money. She let him come back. He fleeced her for $350.00. She let him come home. He stole his daddy’s pistol, and that was the end of coming back home. He had changed his life. His path was no longer clear. He lived under a bridge off Broadway, where the KMart used to be. His mother came every day and picked him up and took him to the Pilot to take a hot shower for $7.00. He got so cold at…
November Writing Challenge, Day 8 Dot, dot, dot… I have approximately 779 stories bouncing around in my head right now to elaborate upon. I know that it’s not necessary for me to only tell one, but I don’t want to wear out my welcome. Not everybody has hours upon hours to loiter online reading ramblings of the resident redneck. So let’s get down to it. First of all, I have several prayer requests on my mind. And I know y’all count on me not to get all religious but one of my very-good-oldest-friends in the world lost her dog today. Well, technically it was her husband’s dog first, but she knew Buster from his earliest days. Emme and Buster were buddies when M&M’s relationship was blossoming. (This is also poignant-Emme had a last visit today with her old friend. And this is getting complicated, but the reason she doesn’t live with them is because she was a little short on patience when the girl children came along, so Emme relocated the grandparents farm). Anyway, the children are understandably upset-it’s their first close death experience, I’m sure MBM is distraught, he’s had Buster for like, fifteen years, and M is quite miserable with her own grief plus dealing with the girls’ trauma. So there’s that. Next is a lady I…
November Writing Challenge, Day 7 Sculpted. Meet Oliver. Oliver hails from Newport Bay, Oregon. He was bought on a windy, rainy June day in an art gallery housed in a hundred year old building. I loved him at first sight. (As opposed to Johnny’s reaction when I trotted him out for their meeting: “Cool. Where’s the pot go?”) Oliver was promptly named after the acquisition and I was terrified his tentacles would break off if I left him packed up and stored in my checked baggage, so he endured a cross country flight nestled in my lap. He was sculpted by Michael Hopko in 2005. He has several brothers and sisters I would desperately like to acquire so I could have a whole octopus family here in Appalachia, but alas, I can’t hardly justify that kind of expenditure. Oliver is one of the coolest and most beautiful things I own. I wouldn’t say I’m into art, but I do love gorgeous pieces as much as the next hillbilly. Sometimes you need something perfectly weird to offset the mundane…
November Writing Challenge, Day 6 The carpet. The carpet was ugly, and it would have to go. The sooner the better. The living room carpet had long since been torn up and thrown out, exposing golden Clear Grade oak hardwood flooring. It wasn’t beautiful and perfect anymore, though. After almost 40 years of being suffocated by a truly hideous parade of carpeting ranging from a puke green to what was once a burnt orange shag, the hardwood was marred by spots where the rubber backing had stuck and countless staple holes. But it cleaned up okay, and until I could afford to have it refinished, it would have to stay. Strategically placed rugs were lain. The first rug was almost as bad as the carpet-a blood red rose design knockoff Oriental that what it lacked in beauty made up for in size. But it would have to do. I had been promised that the hardwood floors ran the length of the house, except in the kitchen and bathrooms. I was fixing to find out. Next was the bedroom I was taking over, due to it having an en-suite bathroom. I had stayed in the master bedroom for years, but there was no discernable difference in size. The closet was the main attraction in there. I enlisted some help and it didn’t take long to rip the decades old carpet out. We got the hallway while we were at it. Indeed, the same hardwood greeted…
November Writing Challenge, Day 5 Holy. How fitting that it’s Sunday. But then, not everybody worships on Sunday. Not everyone worships at all. I’ve fallen out of church, myself, I’m sorry to say. The reason isn’t because I’ve had second thoughts on religion. No, nothing like that. More like laziness. And I guess the best way for me to keep today holy is to stay away from other people. Because, face it, people annoy me. So anyway. I’ve known holy rollers and I’ve known spiritual people who have more compassion in them than people who are self proclaimed born again Christians who go to church every time the doors are open. Of course, we all know sitting in church doesn’t make you a Christian any more than standing in a garage makes you a car. Of course I should be witnessing to readers instead of bashing people who are probably doing more than me to get right. So. I’ll tell you about the time I was baptised in the Spirit. Never heard of it? Neither had I. (Mark 1:8 touches on it, along with a few other passages). We were attending this little church in South Knoxville-in Vestal-to beat all…Shug likes the tiny churches. And I will admit to feeling more in touch with the Lord in them little places where your…
