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Category: Say You Wanna Resolution
I have spent part of my day deleting photos in my phone. I’ve definitely been freewheeling when it comes to pictures. With at least 15%, I’ve thought to myself, “Self? Why did you think this was important? So important to take a picture of it, to begin with, and then store it for ten years?” My cloud started in 2014. I suppose the ones prior to then are gone forever. I’m not very sad about it. Cellphone picture quality was definitely lacking back in those days. Plus, it was occasionally difficult coming across a few of those captured memories. I don’t need to go back further. And what if we had to take these pictures to be developed? What a waste. I had screenshots of paid bills, houses on Instagram, recipes. Lord, at the recipes. And books! I didn’t delete those, I need to check them on my Goodreads account and make sure I’ve got them marked as ‘to-read’. Not that I’ll have time, of course. I’ll die before I get the ones read I’ve already got. But my google storage is full. And don’t get to talking crazy, saying I could delete the videos of my dog. I need those. So I’m gonna have to keep whittling after this. I bought one of those external storage devices a couple of years ago, but it doesn’t pull everything for some reason. And I might need to access…
Far easier to write a spot of poetryThan to put a favorable spinOn washing clothes dishes and windowsMore romantic to write ofThe stars Candlelight Books in bedNothing much has happened to me todayBut I did get to see a sunriseAnd a sunsetAnd one happy dog in betweenI did talk to a friend for two hoursAnd wish we were closer togetherI did eat some mini Nilla wafersOutside while the sun warmed meAnd I will soon sink into My library chairWith a library bookI will continue to be thankfulFor hot waterAnd indoor plumbingAnd creature comfortsAnd try not to worry About the health of those I loveInstead I will trod on my pathAnd drink more waterAs an example It is still winterAnd will be for some timeBut I am restingAnd I am content In my cocoon of worn furniture and floorsI can wonder what it’s like To be someone elseTo be somewhere elseWithout wanting toI can contemplate what may happenOr I can wait and seeGo blindly forwardWith no expectations Because that often ends in disappointment I like to think If I had a helicopter Things would be easier But I thinkI’d have trouble with maintenance And waiting on it to warm upBefore I could fly away So I better stay here on the groundWith my dreamsAnd just be glad I was given rootsInstead of feathersBecause it’s better not to have any quitThan to be taken for a whirlOn a fleeting breezeI may not be able to do sums in my…
Another pretty perfect day in the books. I took the day off #1. Because I wanted to, and #2, because I had a hair appointment right in the middle of the day. Hair appointments in the middle of the day are either dang inconvenient or a perfect excuse, depending on how you wanna look at it. Today it was a perfect excuse. It was a brilliantly beautiful day, the sun giving it its all. And about time! February is really showing January how it’s done. And today is Whistlepig Day. I have it on good authority that spring will be arriving shortly, and I don’t think anybody’s mad about that. I’ll tell ya somethin’ else I ain’t mad about, and that’s these white chocolate craisin cookies Angela gave me last night. The only problem is she didn’t give me a wheelbarrow load. Which wouldn’t be good for my sugar but ahhh…I’ll worry about that later. I didn’t tell y’all about them last night because I was afraid y’all are hoodlums and would break in on me and eat them. But that worry is unfounded now, because you’d have to break into my stomach to get them currently 😁 So I lolled about this morning, doing Wordle in bed (4), ate my leftover ribs, and got the salon only four minutes late. I know, I’m terrible. I’m usually right on time. There was a lady there…
Today was a good day. It’s been awhile since I’ve been able to write about a wholly good day. Not that I ever have much to complain about, but you know how you get in a funk for one reason or another. It started with a visit from Sam and catching up with him, which was nice. The daily phone calls wear on me, but he hasn’t been calling and I haven’t seen him since our Christmas meeting, so we were due to catch up. He’s expecting another grandbaby any day. He asked after Chester, as always, and I showed him the picture I snapped this morning while I was curled up next to him having my coffee. The handymen from Grainger County were there this morning spraying insulation. They are always so friendly. I wish I had them on retainer for my house. It had already warmed up substantially by the time they were packing up their tools to go. Made me think I should definitely look into this for my house. Add that to the list. After tires and gradework. I’d had my coffee this morning but hadn’t ever gotten around to breakfast, so I ate my leftover Arby’s. If I had known what lay ahead, I would have eaten a lot more. A field visit to my favorite person in the whole wide world’s farm was scheduled for one o’clock so I invited myself, pulled my muck…
The end of January, hallelujah. It’s skunk season and every night about this time Chester is dying to go outside. I know exactly what he’s after; does he think I’m ignorant? He lays at the door and does big deep sniffs and growls and barks his Alert II bark, which is, “There’s something out here, friend or foe, I don’t know, let me out immediately.” And I don’t and he huffs and sulls up on the couch. I don’t like drawing people out. I’m not going to play games about if you’re mad at me and don’t call, I will notice, but I won’t care. If you’re mad enough to do that, man up and call and tell me why you’re miffed at me and give me an opportunity to apologize. If not, it’s likely that I don’t know that I’ve angered you. Like most people, I’m happy-go-lucky in my own little dimension. If I did it on purpose, well, may the Lord be with you. I wanted to write about something serious and thought provoking tonight but I’m sort of skittish about wading into those dark waters. I just know I’d be off down the rabbit hole and probably neck deep before I knew it and too late to turn back because I’d be having all the right words and prose and it would be too good…
I think I’m gonna start writing fantasy. Because people sure do love running their mouths. So maybe if I write something clearly so fictional they’ll at least look incredibly stupid to people they repeat it to. Why are people so invested in one another’s love lives? It brings to mind Taylor Swift. Who freaking gives a hoot who her boyfriend is? And if he’s a football player, shouldn’t she be at the games, cheering him on? I thought that was kinda the point of being in a relationship— a show of support. Or have I missed the point entirely of what people are griping about? I don’t know, and I also haven’t figured out the rage over Stanley cups. I think they’re kinda ugly, and wasn’t Yeti the thing to have? I’m so confused. I just wanna go crawl in a cave and read poetry to my dog. I could use another foot of snow…as long as my power stays on. Anyway, how are y’all? I’m feeling disgruntled, thanks for asking. I need a big dose of GRACE, because my fuse is running very short on a lot of subjects lately. Or maybe it’s running low on certain people. I’m just glad I’m not in retail anymore because it’s just a matter of time before I turn into the main character in a slasher movie. *melting emoji* Just kidding. I can’t afford…
January stretches on. I can’t say I’m sad to see it end, even I have my limits of enduring cold mud. And of course the week of entrapment due to snow didn’t help paint these thirty one days in a favorable light. I have been reading Sean Dietrich’s column for years. I was all about him for the longest. You know we even exchanged a few emails after I won a little contest he had….even though he accidentally announced in his podcast another person as the winner. It wasn’t the end of the world, and he went to the trouble of sending me a specially selected matchbox Chevy truck. After awhile, his columns started getting a bit repetitive, waxing nostalgic about his father who committed suicide. I tried to be sympathetic because we’re told to write what we know about. And writing is good therapy, too. So I got to skimming those. And the baseball ones. I don’t care for baseball, unless I’m watching it in person, in the shade, with a beer in one hand and Cracker Jacks in the other. But to give him credit, he did try to make them entertaining. Then Covid came along, and I was up to my eyeballs with every bit of that immediately. So I quit reading him altogether because of all the triggers. Then he got this blind bloodhound and suckered me back in. But lately I’ve been on the outs…
Another week and weekend, gone in a flash. I feel like I did accomplish a few things, though. And you will be glad to know I was able to fish out my roof receipt. It was just where I thought it would be: with my tax documents from 2020. Thank God for small miracles and my ability to file important documents in a place they can be located quickly. It’s just the procrastination that gets me. I also washed a blanket I was told to never wash and I have ruined it forever. I have washed it before, but I now know there’s an enormous difference between hand wash and delicate cycles. FAAFO. While I’m on the subject of washing…men reading, feel free to exit. You won’t have any input here. Going once, going twice…. Ok. Maybe they heeded my advice. Maybe not. So I see an ad today from Thirdlove that says your bras aren’t supposed to have birthdays. Wait. What? I know for a fact I have bras that are every bit of four years old. I only throw them out when the underwire pokes out. And even then, I don’t want to! I wish I could sew a stitch and I’d fix them up. Bras are EXPENSIVE! Last ones I bought were $75!! I feel like this is a marketing ploy to sell more bras. Now, maybe if you only had one or two and you were wearing them…
You know what’s a conundrum? When you’re hungry, but not too hungry, but hungry enough to know you need to eat a little something or risk waking up starving…but you’re too tired to cook, and too lazy to go get something, and if you do go out, it needs to be something remotely healthy. And so you say to heck with it and fix some Hamburger Helper because it’s delicious and comforting and quick. And you don’t have to put shoes on. The weather has been perfectly miserable. I drove most of the way back from Cookeville in the rain. When it wasn’t raining, it was foggy. Once I got Knoxville, the rain had nearly stopped, but that’s when the traffic congestion started. You cannot win. But the good news is I still made it in just over two hours, there were no super close calls, and I only hydroplaned once 😳 I may not ever get constipated, but I’m discovering I do get writer’s block. I’m sitting here, perched in the corner of my couch, looking around the room and wondering what I could possibly write about. All the subjects in my head seem too controversial. Besides, I’ve already written about the majority of them at least once already. You know, the Selfie Trend, and fake smiles and fake lips and fake lashes and not living in the moment. And how you can be a very pretty girl…
I’m a day late, and I petition you for your grace and understanding. I was in no way shape or form able to write last night, even if I had a subject in mind, let alone the time. And since yesterday was the most exciting day of my year thus far, of course this will be another journal-esque entry. It’s a good demonstration of how one without kids or attachments lives their life. 6:30 and I’m up, drinking water (gonna be too hot for coffee), and doing my Wordle. I get it in three and I was super proud of myself. Aloof, in case you’re curious. Double letters usually give me the devil, especially when the word begins with a vowel. My head just doesn’t wanna work like that. So as I’m sending Lisa a text to say how many guesses it took, as is our custom first thing in the morning, and I see she is typing me something. I figure it’s her Wordle number. But no. “You wanna drive out to Cookeville this afternoon and spend the night and hang out?” And me, with basically no obligations to anyone whatsoever, is like, “Sure! But lemme make sure Angela can let Chessie out in the morning.” Because that dog constitutes the entirety of my responsibilities, apart from work. And lo and behold, Angela could, and I started working out a timetable in my brain of when I should leave, and…
