Well I will say it was a very beautiful day indeed, and the only thing that put a pall over it was my own brain making up scenarios. The brain is a powerful weapon, and honestly, not always a friend. We would do well to tell it to hush a lot of the time. Lemme see if I can find that poem. Standby.
my brain and
heart divorced
a decade ago
over who was
to blame about
how big of a mess
I have become
eventually,
they couldn’t be
in the same room
with each other
now my head and heart
share custody of me
I stay with my brain
during the week
and my heart
gets me on weekends
they never speak to one another- instead, they give me
the same note to pass
to each other every week
and their notes they
send to one another always
says the same thing:
“This is all your fault”
on Sundays
my heart complains
about how my
head has let me down
in the past
and on Wednesday
my head lists all
of the times my
heart has screwed
things up for me
in the future
they blame each
other for the
state of my life
there’s been a lot
of yelling – and crying
so, lately I’ve been
spending a lot of
time with my gut
who serves as my
unofficial therapist
most nights, I sneak out of the
window in my ribcage
and slide down my spine
and collapse on my
gut’s plush leather chair
that’s always open for me
~ and I just sit sit sit sit
until the sun comes up
last evening,
my gut asked me
if I was having a hard
time being caught
between my heart
and my head
I nodded
I said I didn’t know
if I could live with
either of them anymore
“my heart is always sad about
something that happened yesterday
while my head is always worried
about something that may happen tomorrow,”
I lamented
my gut squeezed my hand
“I just can’t live with
my mistakes of the past
or my anxiety about the future,”
I sighed
my gut smiled and said:
“in that case,
you should
go stay with your
lungs for a while,”
I was confused
the look on my face gave it away
“if you are exhausted about
your heart’s obsession with
the fixed past and your mind’s focus
on the uncertain future
your lungs are the perfect place for you
there is no yesterday in your lungs
there is no tomorrow there either
there is only now
there is only inhale
there is only exhale
there is only this moment
there is only breath
and in that breath
you can rest while your
heart and head work
their relationship out.”
this morning,
while my brain
was busy reading
tea leaves
and while my
heart was staring
at old photographs
I packed a little
bag and walked
to the door of
my lungs
before I could even knock
she opened the door
with a smile and as
a gust of air embraced me
she said
“what took you so long?”
~ john roedel (johnroedel.com)
Isn’t that wonderful? It’s so true. If we could just learn to breathe through situations and put it in perspective that we can’t change people, all we are in charge of is how we react. And it’s just flat not worth getting bent out of shape over. The people who are incensing us certainly aren’t bothered by their behavior. Which brings me to my next subject…
How far should manners extend? At what point do you tell someone to act responsibly and you aren’t going to help them? Should you outright lie to protect feelings?
I pride myself on being honest, and manners tend to fall to the wayside in favor of being honest above all. This is in direct conflict with how the Bible tells us to behave. Well, that’s my understanding, anyway. It preaches love, and I do know that my acerbic tongue could use a good dose of sugar most always. Not that putting things more sweetly is always the best route. Sometimes it just builds on the problem. So say you have someone in your life that you aren’t particularly fond of, but you’re forced to get along. Whether it be a cousin, coworker, doorman at your apartment, whatever. And this person is regularly asking for favors. You never ask anything of this person, partially because you’re self reliant, but also because you’re not comfortable asking favors from people you barely know. So this person hasn’t truly appreciated the things you’ve done for them in the past, and they ask you this last favor and you flat shoot them down, and cite reasons why. And then they’re put out with you all day and say they’ll remember this instance, which doubly infuriates you.
I realize I’m not giving you enough information. But I’m irritated and don’t want to relive it and of the three people I’ve polled, I’m justified in my decision not to help (again). It’s like, should I have lied and made up some excuse why I couldn’t perform said favor? Would that soften the blow? Or would I continue to be asked to do things that I’m not entirely comfortable with? And honestly, the asking will probably continue because this person is an oblivious moron.
You never know who you’re gonna run into or what you’re gonna see when you go out. There’s always a chance it might be something truly spectacular. Tonight we saw these women.
Probably wasn’t very nice of me to sneak a picture, but they were too eclectic to pass up. And obviously it was on purpose. Her shirt was STARCHED. They were out on the town! I love to see women out in groups, sharing secrets and giggling and just having a good time without being in competition or worrying that their husbands are ready to go.
Kay and I were talking about these older ladies who lose a husband, whether it be through death or divorce, and the just stay home and dry up because they don’t know what else to do. Now, it ain’t like I’m setting the world on fire and out there tearing it up, but I do feel like I’m in the mix of things regularly. You wanna get out! It’s good for you. Kay said, “I wanna see the pink ladies!” Indeed. Me too. I wanna be eccentric and not give one red rat’s ass what anybody thinks about me, just like always. I hope I’ve always got a friend who doesn’t bat an eye. But who will also gently persuade me to leave the bunny ears at home. Unless I’m just dead set on them.
Well, anyway, alls well that ends well. And Kay and I ended with mudslides, so that’s a fine a way as any.
Cheers from Appalachia,
~Amy
P.s. I know a man who kissed a dog for the first time today. He was proud of him, and got lost in the moment. I’m as proud of that as anything else that happened today. It’s okay to be a hard as, but there’s no sense in trying to be one around a good dog. 🥰
My day began with dry rain. That’s a term I’ve made up, but I’ve been told it makes sense. It’s the kind of rain where it feels dry between drops, instead of an all encompassing wetness. I thought today was gonna be a total wash out, but it ended up being pretty spotty.
I had a Foundation meeting at 7:30 this morning. I’ve always heard successful people are the ones out stirring before the rest of the world wakes up and I guess it can be believed if you go by this group. It’s basically Sevier County Royalty, if there is such a thing. Excluding me, obviously. I’m just a representative for the library board. My report went like this: “oh, we’re just rockin’ along. No news is good news and I have no updates.” But it was good to see everyone, and to reconnect with a sweet girl I haven’t seen in too long. She has one of the best laughs. It just bubbles out of her, nearly unprompted. I feel like she was a sprite in a previous life. But she’s definitely one of those if she gets tickled, I get tickled, and we’re both getting thrown out of the funeral home. Dangerous for us to be together for long.
On to work for a few hours, to send an email saying I never got the email (this has happened twice in the last month— important ones, too! But always nice to hear I’m not the only one). Watched the circus involving the renters up front. I’d like to give them a really good talking to but it should probably involve, bare minimum, the landlord mediating because my temper flares and blood pressure skyrockets every time I lay eyes on them. They clearly don’t know their address and they seem pretty much oblivious to their two parking spot maximum rule. I haven’t decided if they’re idiots or jackasses.
Then off to Knoxville for a baby shower. I was kind of hoping these days were behind me, but alas, they are not. It was at the Area Office, and after six years on the job, I finally got a tour. I found the majority of cubicles desolate and sad. People just don’t decorate. Only one guy had plants. When this was pointed out to my nickel guide she said in defense, “I have plastic plants! I have a hard enough time keeping myself alive!”
I get it.
The shower wasn’t too painful. Surprisingly, I ended up playing with the one child in attendance. I think it was more out of a sense of survival to entertain each other than enjoyment. Regardless, we made a game out of the streamers while people lingered over cupcakes. This shower was attended by both males and females, which was a first for me. I was a little disappointed we didn’t play the purse game, but only because I always win. I like a little competition when I’m sure of my imminent victory. But again, while baby showers are not something I would rate in top 500 things to do (especially when they don’t offer mimosas), it was still good to mix and see everybody and remind them that I exist.
Back home and a little doze in my chair in the library while the rain pattered. I love my library so much. It’s the coziest spot in the house, made more so by my dog curled up next to my feet on the ottoman. Sometimes it’s tempting to just curl up right here and sleep instead of prying myself out to go down the hall to bed.
Then, finally, my last appointment of the day: my hair. And the one I most look forward to. Christy had her work cut out for her today; my roots were atrocious. But she got me fixed up and I’m back to looking like the supermodel y’all are accustomed to 🤣🤣
I met a nice lady who works in HR and I told her she had the voice for it. I told her she could fire people with that voice and they probably wouldn’t even get mad. She thought that was hilarious. I told her she should seek out publishers and offer to read audio books as a side hustle, or after she retired. She’d be perfect for it.
My hairdresser’s daughter is in school at the university. Her quote for the day is, “college is stupid.” And you know what? She’s right. But sweet girl, if you’re reading, college sets you up for everything else. You meet people that are like minded. You learn how to prioritize and budget your time. Quite simply, you get a dose of the real world, because while you’re rubbing elbows with people like you, you’re also in a melting pot of everybody else. And you gotta go along to get along, at least for a short while. You watch these TV shows and they talk about “old college friends”. Yup, I’ve got several of those. Something about being away from home, away from all the people you grew up around, making more choices every day and trying out your wings from the relative safety of the nest…yeah, it’s good for you. Don’t quit till you really try.
So here I am, cross eyed from writing all this and sorta fried from a nearly full day of engagements and socializing. Usually it’s a life of solitude for me so today was a little draining.
I’m craving ice cream in a bad way. Maybe tomorrow.
Love from Appalachia,
~Amy
I have had a busy day. Lots of traffic at the office. I like it when my customers come prepared with necessary paperwork. I like it even better when my coworker leaves early.
So, Food City tried to rob me today. They wanted $12.99 (or was it $13.99???) for a 24 pack of Mountain Dew. I am not that desperate and I pass Dollar General on the way home, just like everybody else in the south. Granted, it isn’t a shopping experience without hazards, and I do feel the need to bathe in hand sanitizer and get a tetanus booster upon leaving, but you can save quite a bit of money there if you’re in the market for certain products. Well, today, it was Mountain Dew. You could get three twelve packs for $13.98, then download their digital coupon for two more dollars off. So that’s precisely what I did, quite happily. Take that, mega conglomerate. Do better.
Here’s a lesson in southern cookin’. If the recipe calls for olive oil, use bacon grease. If it says butter, double it and salt it. If they start talking portion size, assume they’re stingy Commies and you should prolly make a double batch. There is no substitute for lard. You can almost always add some vanilla to any dessert to improve it. I’m just sayin’, is all. Don’t blame me if you’re still hankerin’ for a double cheeseburger after you make something out of the Joy of Cooking or some such nonsense. I made Brussels sprouts in the air fryer again tonight, and lemme tell you, Blackhorse will not see another dollar of my money for theirs. Theirs are really good, don’t get me wrong, but now I know how to make them and I bought a big jar of hot honey (“fiery sweet”, it was called) at the Buc-cee’s the other day.
The wind is positively HOWLING. I’m glad I’m not a little songbird. I bet it’s frightening living in a tree and feeling like you’re gonna get blown into next week. It’s bad enough in this house listening at it.
Well. Early day tomorrow and I need my beauty sleep. And I still gotta wash my hair. I hope y’all have a restful night. Hope you have a dog to cuddle. Hope you have food in your belly and a soft place to lay your head. And I hope you have a good book to read, because I didn’t quite cut it tonight. I’ll keep trying, if you promise to keep reading.
Love from Appalachia,
~Amy
To catch you up: The dog next door is still wild and free. He’s been relatively quiet today until the sun set. Now it’s nonstop again. I did try to catch him, or at least put him back in his fence, a couple of times today and he wasn’t having it. He’s one of those that will bark while he runs away from you, looking over his shoulder. 🙄 I’m not scared of him, but I don’t want to frighten him worse. I have not contacted the owners because I don’t want to cause undue worry. And I have tried what little I know to do. At least he’s staying out of the road.
Yesterday I switched my closet from fall/ winter to spring/ summer. I told myself I would get rid of lots of things. I never knew I was such a liar. I threw two things away, have one put aside for Angela, and six more items destined for thrift. I am unable to part with any more Lularoe, even though it makes me mad to look at it, since each pair of leggings represents, bare minimum, $25. I also cannot bear the thought of throwing out two pairs of grey stretchy pants, even though they both have multiple holes. One pair I am wearing right now. It’s not like I wear them out in public. Why throw them away when they’re clothes for home? I might decide to paint one day and I’ll need clothes that are on their last legs. Of these, I have a selection. Including the shirt I’m currently donning. It’s not even that old, but it evidently hung in the souvenir shop for ages before I brought it home, because the letters spelling out St. George Island peeled off almost immediately. And there are holes in the cuffs, which is mighty handy for pretending I’m wearing one of those shirts like I like to wear in winter.
I’m a mess, to put it simply.
Isn’t that ironic? But I love the shirt, even if it is holey and grease stained and peeling. It’s also roomy and soft and pink.
Today I discovered that I’m out of baked beans, and macaroni and cheese really does eventually go bad (expiration date of 2017. The cheese sauce powder was almost red. But it was still powdery. I expected clumps). I am also admitting I have an overindulgence problem when it comes to fresh baked chocolate chip cookies. This is known as founder in horses. If I were a horse, I would most absolutely be classified as foundered right now. I don’t know why I can’t stop. I know it’s gonna make me wanna hork. So now y’all know two more of my weaknesses. Although, let’s not forget my ruthlessness with the shoes a few weeks ago and my decrepit alarm clock.
There is as much in these daily accounts as there isn’t. I suppose plenty of people who read them studiously assume they know the intricacies of my life. And they would know a lot. But there’s plenty I don’t say. Just in case you’re feeling like an expert on my life. Sometimes the most important stuff is what isn’t being said. I have two friends that have all but dropped off from posting on Facebook in recent months. I know of the trouble one of them is dealing with, and the other one I speculate on. But have I reached out? No. It never feels like the right time and we aren’t that close. But I still feel guilty. Because I just know. But I don’t want to be right.
Haven’t made much progress with 1984. I’m working on the Wilde sequel. Plus 1984 is in one of those tiny paperbacks and I need super good light for that. It’s been too cold to read outside this weekend, much to my dismay. I liked eating breakfast out at the table last weekend. Oh well. There will be ample time in the coming months for al fresco dining.
It’s almost Easter! I wish I had participated in Lent. I should have cut spending. That would have certainly behooved me with the quilt fiasco. Now, riddle me this: why am I so eager to replace a quilt that doesn’t need replacing, but I can’t throw away clothes that clearly need to be discarded?
It’s also FFA Convention in Gatlinburg. Lord, hep us. Spring breakers, FFA-ers, probably the Pentecostals next. I’m ready for a vacation myself. Somewhere good, like a deserted island.
Well, tomorrow is Monday. Good things in store this week. I have a Foundation meeting and a baby shower to attend Tuesday so I will be poised and elegant at least one day of the week. Good Friday will be a Great Friday since I won’t be on my feet selling fertilizer and taters for ten hours straight. I might work on my flower beds. They are in dire need of attention. I should be ashamed. But I ain’t.
Go check out the moon, if you haven’t already. It was cloudy when I peeped out earlier but maybe it’s cleared up now. Full tonight. Ah-woooooooooo
Love from Appalachia,
~Amy
I absolutely, positively, cannot think of a thing to write. My world is filled with barking and howling dogs. And has been since 3:00 this afternoon.
The neighbors have evidently, accidentally, left their doodle outside. I say accidentally because this has never happened before. Maybe he let himself out and now he can’t get back, like some sort of wormhole. I don’t know, all I know is he’s been barking since three o’clock.
It is now 9:30.
That is a LOT of barking. He is tireless. And when he really gets to feeling sorry for himself, he gets to howling. At which time, Chester gets empathetic and pitches in. Several dogs in the neighborhood beyond also accompany them. It’s truly a cacophony and I’m about to pull my eyebrows out, one by one.
Yes, I could text my neighbor and make sure everything is ok. But I don’t want to worry them if they can’t get home, or can’t send somebody to check. And I don’t know how to put it nicely, “please come home and shut your dog up, he’s driving us all crazy”. I’m not known for my warm bedside manner. Because I feel certain Chester barks when I’m gone. Surely not nonstop like this, but really, who’s to say? And I don’t have a key, so no, I can’t go put him up myself.
Lalalalala…..my aunt just text me to see what all the commotion is. She must have just gotten home or has had every television in the house blaring, one. Poor Chester has worked himself into a dither. I just keep telling him Ace is being dramatic and I better not ever hear of him acting like this.
Full moon tomorrow night, known as the Worm Moon. I looked it up, because it looks full tonight. But it ain’t. And it’s not called the worm moon on account of the earthworms, either. It’s because of the beetle larvae (gag 🤢) that come out of the tree bark this time of year. Named by the Native Americans and was adapted in the 1760’s to our tongue by Jonathan Carver.
I like moons, and I like worms, but I do not like larvae.
I had an aunt who was terrified of worms. It was kinda funny, until I realized that I wasn’t any better, being scared of snakes. Of course snakes are much bigger and toothier…
I ain’t gonna write no more about slitheries because I don’t wanna dream about them.
He’s still barking. Chess is still whining. He’s gonna give himself heartburn if he keeps it up. Gonna be a long night if they’re not coming home. I would think he would’ve run out of steam by now. And where is he getting water? They don’t leave their dogs out for extended periods like this. It’s all very odd.
I made a pork roast today in the crockpot. It was very delicious. A bone in Boston Butt. I diced an onion, poured a bottle of cider beer over it, peppered it real good, and let it cook all day. It nearly starved us to death. Then, when I couldn’t stand it any longer, I drained it, shredded it, and dumped a jar of Buc-cee’s pineapple mango habanero salsa over it. Sooooooo very delicious, if I do say so myself. And I do. I ate it on hard shell tacos. I didn’t even bother with sides. I may make some guac tomorrow. Or I might not. I might make some more cheater mashed potatoes. That’s way more likely.
Ok, I’m gonna go stuff cotton in my ears. I hope y’all have a peaceful night. I intend to, one way or another.
Love from Appalachia,
~Amy
Writing Prompt #432 Write a poem that describes an epic journey a person once took long ago
Go back back back
Further still
To molten chocolate eyes
And boredom
Go back to a shoestring promise
And the shock factor
Something different
Mad anyway
And fed up
Feels like hitting a block wall
At every turn
And so leaving to get some space
No walls
Instead a very short leash
And blinders
But clarity at the same time
Because nothing is ever
One way or the other
So much gray
There's good in the bad
There's bad in the good
There's indecisiveness
Even when you're sure
The twin towers
Batman building
The bridge
Gone gone gone
Sometimes silver wings
Sometimes a car I couldn’t remember
West coast to Gulf
Lighthouses and cacti
Indians and rodeo queens
Chris Ledoux and Joe Beaver
Sunburns and snow
-both in June-
Pecan pie and spaghetti
Pronghorn and grizzlies
Prairie dogs and whales
Petrified forest to Mt. Rushmore
I saw it all that summer
And there are no regrets
It opened my eyes
Adventure will do that
And love blinds
Till it doesn’t
This is the one I never got around to writing when I was out of town earlier this month. I knew what I wanted to write about, my own epic journey, of course, but I couldn’t get it into words. It either came out too frivolous or too serious. I wanted to strike the balance. And it would have been nice if I had gotten it to rhyme. But no chance of that. It was an adventure of a lifetime and it taught me some valuable lessons. I still talk to my traveling companion regularly; we are finally at a good place with each other and it’s nice. I know I would have never seen the things I did without him, and I thank him for it. I learned what love is and what love isn’t. I grew up a lot in those months on the road. I learned what I wanted, what I would tolerate, and what I wouldn’t. If you ever have the opportunity to run away with a rodeo cowboy, you should. But make sure you can come home after, because you’ll need to comfort your heart for a little bit. ❤️ This song always reminded me of that summer, the summer of 2005.
“He was one of them guys.” He looked at me to see if I understood. I did, and I willed him with my eyes to continue. “…one of them guys…you know, one of them guys you can’t get away from and you don’t want to.”
There was more, but he didn’t say, because he knew I knew. But probably also because I said, “keep talkin’, you’re soundin’ like a blog post.”
We all know “them guys”. They worked a job that required skill of their hands and strength of their back. They wear plaid shirts with snaps and the left pocket carries a small spiral notebook, a Bic pen, and a pack of Marlboro reds. Their dark denim jeans show a little wear in a spot or two, maybe a frayed hole from battery acid, maybe some stubborn grease streaks. The pockets bulge with keys, five dollars in change, a lighter, and a yeller three blade Case pocketknife. These men have arms that are tanned and sinewy, scratched and scarred from countless battles with brush, machinery, barbed wire, and their oldest son, who went through a biting phase. They wear a gimme cap from the feed and seed or tractor dealership without fail, not to cover up the grey but because they always had. They were naked without it. And their boots. No fancy doins there, either. Scuffed, muddy, worn, heavy, and brown. A low heel. No pointed toe. Boots that have traveled. Boots that had a long way to go. Probably Redwing brand, but maybe Justin, depending on their line of work and what work was waiting at home. These guys carried their paper check home to “momma”, who scrimped and saved and put meat on the table seven nights a week. She packed his dinner bucket with two sandwiches, a banana or apple or orange, a pack of crackers, maybe some chips. She made a pound cake or Bundt cake once a week and wore an apron from daylight till dark. Momma knew he chewed a little tobacco, but not in the house. And he knew she watched her stories every day and spent a good hour on the phone each afternoon before he got home talking to Margaret, if she didn’t come through the back gate for coffee. These women sold Avon and knew better than to ask for flowers on their birthday, but directed him on where to plant the rose bushes. These men scoffed around the other guys about keeping the missus happy, but you better believe they groveled when they had too many beers on Friday night.
You can find these men all around. Look for an American made truck in a basic color, sometimes with a dog in the bed. Look for them at the auto parts, the local hardware, the Co-op, and any backyard garage. They’ll be around Hardee’s early of the morning. They tell tales on each other: tales of the hunt, the fishing trip, the time they took the family to see the Grand Canyon, and when their best buddy in high school wrecked his motorcycle. They’re all retired, but they still have plenty to do, and an opinion on how you should be doin’ it. They don’t understand the fascination with cell phones or reality TV. They watch the weather and sometimes the news, until it makes them mad. They drink coffee way up into the day and know a little about everything. It’s hard to distinguish the truth from the lie, but you like the story and they’re not one to let a little fact get in the way of the tellin’. They’ve lived through the draft, and known several who didn’t. They pay cash, always. They don’t need to yell to get your attention, you were already listening. They’re the men at the bank that everybody knows, the one the tellers make coffee for. The ones that will linger and harmlessly flirt, saying nice things just to make them smile. One of them guys. If you don’t know any of them guys, I suggest you go get acquainted. They’re pretty handy. You’ll know them by their level gaze and unhurried manner. You best slow down and have a word. You’ll probably walk away a sight better than when you walked up.
Love from Appalachia,
~Amy
I read once, what would you have if you woke up one day and only had what you were thankful for the day before?
Gulp.
Some days I really have to force my mind into being thankful and attuned to what all is really awesome. I have to remind myself of the things and people I take for granted that so many would die for. I don’t appreciate much of anything as I should. Not everybody can look out their window at any time and see grass and birds and maybe a squirrel or two. Not everyone is surrounded by supportive people. Some people aren’t fortunate enough to read the books the want to read and have a dog that lays so close he cuts off circulation to your feet, or have friends that communicate solely via TikTok. Some people have never tasted Texas Roadhouse rolls or Cracker Barrel’s pancakes. Some people never leave their home state. Some people don’t want to, and that’s ok, too. Because some people have to travel incessantly to have the lifestyle they want, when really what they want is to stay put. But they wouldn’t know how to admit it. It’s like being hurt, but saying you’re mad, because you don’t want to admit your heart got bruised. Better to have that fortress. Best to be honest, but there’s nothing wrong with being optimistic. But with optimism, your brain is constantly cautioning your heart to be careful, to wrap up, to go slow and wary. Don’t hurt anyone else’s feelings, just be kind. Say less. Think it through. Proceed with caution.
I throw caution to the wind, and duct tape my brain and stuff it in the trunk of a ‘67 Stingray and go ripping into the night, top down, radio blaring “take me back, way back home, not by myself, not alone….I ain’t askin’ for much…”
Love from Appalachia,
~Amy
It is the first day of spring. I hope you found a way to enjoy it outside in the breezy brightness, with the budding trees and the thickening grass. I was running around the picturesque East Tennessee countryside for most of the day, admiring fields of fescue coming in strong from recent rains and 70 degree temperatures, and daffodils in ditches, and cows making the most of it, picking with gusto. But no early spring day is complete without noting the invasion of my enemy tree, the Bradford Pear.
But we’re going to overlook that in favor of the productive day spent in the company of a dear friend, a longtime friend, a good friend who needed a good day. And he got it. Do you all sometimes pause and realize that you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be in that moment? That maybe, just maybe, we aren’t just floating along, happenstance, and a billion moments have connected and aligned to put us right where we are? Last night when I was up half a dozen times, I tried very hard not to come all the way awake. But I remember praying almost every time that today wouldn’t have any hiccups, that things would move smoothly along, that our plan be His will, as well. And best I can tell, it was. It wasn’t without hiccups, but it was close enough, and it’s kinda like people will tell you on your wedding day: “if, at the end of the day you’re married, it was a success. And that’s all that matters.” So today was a success. No, I’m not married! It’s a metaphor.
We all have our want list. We all have our needs list. Sometimes the wants will disguise theirselves as needs. It’s tricky business. I hope that we know our wants won’t hurt us. I think it’s a good rule to put our wants to the side, and save towards them, but if in six months they don’t seem as vital, to let them go.
Spring is often viewed as fresh life and new beginnings. It’s certainly easier to be more hopeful with the rising temperatures and brighter skies. So if you haven’t been setting the world on fire since January 1st, now’s you’re time to make up for it. All I’ve been doing is plodding along here, keeping it real, and trying to do a little good in the world, even if it is in unconventional ways.
I hope that today, on the first day of spring, in the year of our Lord 2024, you found a reason to be blessed and comforted and know that you are loved. I hope you have at least one good friend, and I hope you felt heard and appreciated. I hope you laughed and I hope tomorrow is just as good, or even better. I hope you don’t lose sight of yourself. And I hope you rest through the night, free of worry from what hasn’t happened yet. Don’t go borrowing trouble. There’s plenty to go around. The longer I live, the more I realize that things happen exactly as they should. The right person is out there, you just have to be patient. And I’m not even just talking about love. The right customer, the right neighbor, the right boss, the right contractor, the right husband or wife. The right person will listen to your stories, and be honored to hear them, and cheer you on. There will be an energy you can’t define; you may not even be aware until after. Kismet, fate, whatever you wanna call it. One day it’ll click and you might stop and take a moment to acknowledge that there’s something great at work, all over every single second of our lives. And thank God for that. Because I have zero business being in control.
Love from Appalachia,
~Amy
The Pollening has begun. And it’s all the Bradford Pears fault. I feel itchy and gross.
I was told today that people relate to my writing and like it because it’s real. I’m not trying to make it seem like my life is unicorns and sparkles all the time. I’m not gonna just write about the highlights and lead you to believe I’m having this perfect experience in life. No, that’s not my style. I’m tripping, I’m slipping, I’m falling, I’m spilling, I’m making a mess and causing a hazard everywhere I go. And right now I feel like I might have a touch of food poisoning to go along with my allergies. I sure hope not, lots of things to do tomorrow and I need to be in tip-top supportive mode and able to make sound decisions.
So speaking of fake, and I may have written about this before, but these books that everybody claims to have read…I’m reading 1984 right now and it’s slow going for me because it’s a mass market paperback edition so the print is small and it’s not very comfortable to hold. I never thought I’d be on the e-reader bandwagon but these things are great for indoor reading when you have low light. I also like the built in dictionary. Very handy. But I haven’t found a way to avoid the glare when reading outside, so in the summer I usually keep two books going: an inside book and an outside book. But, in the winter, there’s no need. But back to these books everybody supposedly read and adores.
For starters, the Bible.
I ain’t buyin’ it. No, no, I believe in the word. I have trouble believing so many people have read it cover to cover. Maybe over the course of your life you have studied it through sermons and Sunday school lessons, but no, I don’t believe the majority of people who claim to have read it sat down and read it straight through as you would read a novel. Nope.
Then we have the classics. Your Dickens, your Hemingway, your Fitzgerald. The Alchemist, Moby Dick, War & Peace or whatever other tome you think makes you look superior. I may possibly judge you *lifting eyebrows* that you would waste time on a 1000+ page book, but you still can’t use the correct version of there, their, or they’re. Or maybe weather and whether. Or then or than.
I’m stopping before y’all start throwing long division at me. Or perhaps simple arithmetic. ‘Cause I suck, I’ve got no lies to tell.
Anyway. Came across this article right off when I googled “what are the most popular books people claim to have read?”
I’m not surprised.
https://tysonadams.com/2019/12/11/the-top-10-books-people-claim-to-read-but-havent-2/
I used to lie about Little Women and Jane Eyre but several years ago I set out to read the classics and got to several of them. Rebecca was my hands down favorite and I felt like I hit A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and To Kill a Mockingbird too late in life to really appreciate them. Never cracked the spine on Little Women. Maybe this year. Really, I’d rather just read Gone With the Wind again. Or maybe Lonesome Dove.
I gotta go to bed so my dog can get some rest. He’s snoring and every time I get up he gives me this look like I’ve betrayed him. Never mind I’m the one going off to work every day so he can have kibble in his bowl and a stuffed dinosaur to disembowel while he lays around freeloading.
I shouldn’t presume. He may have run off a dozen potential robbers today, I wouldn’t know. Anyway. Just remember I’m always happy to talk books with you or try to recommend something. I was talking to a friend today and I was once again disappointed in myself that I didn’t participate in Lent this year. I thought about it but never committed to anything. I had intended to cut out all excess spending (that would have included all meals out) but let’s be real. I am not going to do without my weekly (…or bi-weekly) Bo-rounds. Or candles. Or a new cute top. Or something for Chessie. But I could have went to ol’ faithful and given up Facebook. And I’d be better for it. Because lemme tell you, comments on public pages are not good for my blood pressure. It’s like eating from a salt shaker while driving in Atlanta traffic. No good.
Ok. Goodnight. Happy reading.
Love from Appalachia,
~Amy