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Category: The Thankfuls
It’s common practice on Facebook to list what you are thankful for during the month of November. Here’s a collection of my favorites from the years I participated.
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 they 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…
Once upon a time, there was a girl named Anna.She always seemed so worldy, even though we were the same age. She delighted in being Southern, and knew all about growing a garden even though she lived in a house in a subdivision. She had a raspy smoker’s voice, even at 15, because she smoked. She smoked because her mother smoked, and her mother probably smoked because her father smoked. She was wild; she was as close to free as you can be at sixteen. Maybe it was because she had two older brothers and her mom was tired. Maybe her mom was depressed. Is there a difference?At any rate, Anna rarely said no, and was always available to run to Long John Silvers for a box of crunchies, sunroof open, ashes flying out the window as she shifted with her cigarette clenched between her teeth. There was always some guy hollering, and she, without fail, had a contact for buying cigarettes, booze, or pot. She was one of the first people I ever knew that bleached her hair with more than lemon juice and crossed fingers while laying in a plastic chair in the yard for hours on end.She was a little fast for me, and I didn’t see much of her after she dropped out to complete her GED.Anna had a tinkly laugh, a carefree demeanor, and would give you her last stick of Big Red gum.I saw her…
Thankful, Day 6 I think I’ve talked about divisions before. Like, when you’re having a conversation with someone (or maybe just one in your head), about when something happened. I’ll often say, “Let’s see. That was when I was working at the Co-Op the first time.” So that means between 2001 & 2005. Or I might say, “That was after I got married.” Okay, so after 2012. Y’all probably use the birth of your children to figure stuff out. Our biggest life changing moment should be the day we are saved. That is a truly life altering day if you’re living right. So this day is one of extreme importance as well, a day that lives in my mind as a mark on time. It is the day I lost my Uncle Dale. One year I have been without his guidance, his stories, his pestering, his laughs. One year has passed since I’ve told him any tall tales of my own, or eaten his grilled chicken and deer steaks, or performed a requested chore. One whole year I’ve lived with a new hole in my heart. As he would say, “All I know to tell you is you’re gonna have to get tough, Pilgrim.” But all I’ve ever been was wimpy little girl. However, in the spirit of being thankful, I can say…
Soil is one of three things, when we are evaluating pH. Acidic, alkaline, or basic. Depending on what you’re growing, you could want any one of them. You modify your soil by using lime or sulfur. But sometimes you just leave it alone and it’ll straighten itself out over time. “Hold whatcha got.” How many times have I heard those words? My earliest memories are of working on the farm, stretching fence. “Hold whatcha got,” because I wasn’t strong enough to pull any more, but I could hold what was there. I might have to bear down and dig in, but I would hold. I am stubborn as an oak when I need to be. Stubborn as a deep rooted thistle, more like, seeing as how prickly my disposition is. “Hold whatcha got.” As I grew up, of course I made friends. Sometimes it was hard to stay friends when we had a difference of opinion or new people moving in who were brighter and shinier. But if you have a good friend, you better keep them. I’m proud to say I’ve had my best friend in the whole world for thirty years now. She is definitely worth holding onto. “Hold whatcha got.” Now it was money. This is probably the most recurring mantra for holding on that I would hear in my life. I had saved, but it still wasn’…
That title just looks weird. But it’s kinda like what I said about the fires here, you can find blessings wherever you look. That year I saw generosity and a community with a big heart and open doors. Through my divorce, I found friends that pull you close and guard your heart and will pray for you when you’re unable to pray for yourself. So I’m sure I won’t have any trouble coming up with a list of things for this year. I had to do some shopping today during my lunch break and unfortunately, it was raining. Rain is just an inconvenience, but you can’t help but dread going out in it. I don’t like my feet wet (even though I was wearing boots), and I had straightened my hair. And it got me to thinking. Four years ago we were all praying VERY FERVENTLY for rain. It couldn’t get here quick enough, and it couldn’t rain hard enough. This was during the Gatlinburg Fires, the very thing that kick started me into opening this blog. Rain would have helped immensely back then, and it did come, but it was just about too little, too late. Shame on me for seeing it as an aggravation today. Think of all the states and countries in perpetual drought. And here I was complaining. Rain is a good thing! Yes, I had straightened my hair. Well…
It is human nature to complain. I know this. But I have never seen the like of gripe-filled posts about this snow. And the majority are horse owners. I’m not sure if I see more from them because I’m friends with more horse owners than cattle owners (I think it’s a pretty even split), or if it’s because horse people are more vocal about things. But it confuses me. We live in the hills of Tennessee. Snow is a given. We never know how much, or how long it will last, but we know cold weather is coming for a good three months of the year. If you don’t like it, or are ill-prepared to deal with it, may I suggest moving to town? Or moving further south? Or simply just not having horses? Horses are a luxury afforded to few. They serve no purpose beyond making you happy. And if you’re this miserable taking care of them in the short winter we have, maybe you shouldn’t have them. I don’t have horses anymore and that’s about 50% of the reason. The other half is cost. Horses are outrageously expensive if you keep them in the manner in which you should. I liked the snow just fine. Thankfully, my heat stayed on or I would have been in a bit of a pickle, as all my firewood is wet and…
I was idly scrolling through Facebook tonight. It has become a time-consuming bad habit during the Q. I could be using this time to read, or throw out receipts after checking them against my bank statements, or cleaning baseboards. But no. I’m watching TikTok videos that y’all share (because I refuse to download the app), or laughing at inappropriate memes, or rolling my eyes at y’all trying to convince one another that A) our only “safe” option is staying shut down until flu season or B) that China is trying to kill us by selling us hospital-grade masks that actually recirculate deadly carbon dioxide. I don’t even know anymore. But I do know that I’m not missing people breathing on me in line….but I miss hugs and impromptu drinks with friends at the local watering hole more. So anyway. Back to this post. My hair is, to put it bluntly, crazy. It’s virtually untame-able without the aid of an industrial can of hairspray and a flat iron jacked up to the highest setting. I don’t even try. I’ve just been embracing my curls as they fall after I shake them upside down and scrunch a handful of mousse liberally into them. Seriously. That’s my styling regimen. Some days I get lucky and it looks like I tried. Most days I look like I stuck my…
You ever feel like enough is enough? As Gus says, “That. Is. E-NOUGH.” I can’t take one more quarantine post. Not one more. Whether it’s funny, political, informational, factual, or pure made up CRAP, I’m DONE. So. Here is my reprieve. And yours too, if you want it. Day One (too bad I’m not starting this on the first, but that’s just like me, a day late (or six, but who’s counting?) and a dollar short). Someone you are grateful for. Well, I’m grateful to a lot of people but in the spirit of keeping this light, I’m gonna be grateful to the writing team on the Greatest Sitcom Of All Time: FRIENDS. Bright/Kauffman/Crane. I mean, they’ve kept me going all these years, through good times and bad. You could always depend on them for a laugh a minute. Still, to this day, I will laugh out loud watching that show. And I’ve seen every episode at least three dozen times. It wasn’t always squeaky clean jokes, but it wasn’t nearly as raunchy as what’s on now and passes for comedy at prime time. Chandler, Rachel, Monica, Joey, Phoebe, and Ross keep me in stitches no matter what they were doing. And they did A LOT in ten years. They played endless games of foozball, got married, got divorced…
I’ve been super scatterbrained lately.I went to the mailbox last night for the first time in about a week. I tend to forget about mail. Snail mail, email, whatever, all of it. It was stuffed, but half of it was junk, so I still don’t count this as notable.This morning, I was just driving along, thinking about Cookeville, and all the differences citizens have in their commute today. That is, if they’re even able to go to work. And I put my turn signal on to go around the curve at Indian Warpath 🤦A few minutes ago, I’m washing my hands and I’m looking in the mirror above the sink. My face looks different. Something isn’t right. I realize I’m not wearing eyeliner. More than that, I’m not wearing mascara. For a redhead to be without mascara…well, the term “pig-eyed” comes to mind.Now I’m trying to decide how vain I am, if I’m going to run to Walgreens to get a tube of cheap-o, because I have a new Clinique one at home.I’m pretty vain, but I don’t want to go to Walgreens. And who knows what might happen to me if I vary my routine today. I’m crazy enough already.~~~~~~~If anybody needs somebody to pray for, the list I have just…
Do those two words conjure dusty corners and musty smells? Do you think of lamplight and heavy drapes and threadbare cushions on antique furniture? Do you envision leather bound tomes, heavy as bricks, piled on every surface and crammed into shelves that reach to the ceiling? Do you picture bespectacled old women, peering at you from under steel gray buns when a book from your pile slips to the floor, causing a disruption? Do you conjure up card catalogs and rainy afternoons and periodicals enjoyed by a large potted plant? Perhaps you are remembering hours spent in your school library among books on spaceships and whales with rainbow posters on the creme colored cinder block walls. Maybe you remember being slumped in a plastic chair at a round table with a chipped veneer finish, #2 pencil in one hand, the other in a fist at your hairline as you tried to determine what the differences are between porpoises and dolphins for your research paper. Or was it college, when you were there in your cubby, scratching out an outline to your thesis and some grad student was being helpful and surfing through ten weeks worth of newspapers from Chicago’s Great Fire on the microfiche to help you. You were taken into the archives by a lady who probably painted lines up the back of her legs during WWII. You’re tapping away on one of those newfangled Apple computers, the monitor the color of a cherry Lifesaver…
