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Browsing Tag: #anniversary
It will rain today. I can say this with authority because I made a deal with God six years ago today. I asked him if it had to rain, could it just rain everywhere but at our venue, and then it was free to rain every year on our anniversary, as long as it didn’t rain on us today? And it didn’t. And it has. So it will rain today, I can guarantee you. Indeed it rained all around us on our wedding day: it rained on my carriage driver and horse on the way in, they had to pull over and tarp the carriage. It rained at my house. It rained within a half of mile of us all afternoon. But not a drop fell from the sky at the Historic Ramsey Plantation. Sweat drops and tear drops were in abundance, I will say. Wednesday, I had the pleasure of leaving the office and visiting a farm of one of my old Co-op customers. He happens to be one that I bought a quarter of a cow from a few years ago. He has a gorgeous place; his house sets on top of the hill, overlooking his spread. We met with him and his wife on the front porch, and settled ourselves on the cushioned swings. There was enough breeze to keep me from sweating a drop, even with my hair down. It was the perfect day to be on a call. I knew…
November Writing Challenge Day 25 Smoke. Not an easy one to write about, as we’re nearing the one year mark for the Chimney Tops Fire, but I’ll do my best. Last year on this day there was smoke in the valley. There was smoke on the hills and hollers, both. There was smoke everywhere. It’s a year later and nobody can believe it. Friends from out of town ask how things are…and I don’t remember until I’m reminded. Life has gone on, pretty much as scheduled, since summer and green once again took over the hillsides. For me, anyway. But I’m not in Gatlinburg every day. I’m not in Gatlinburg at all. I don’t see the devastation or the rebuilding in person. I’m not depending on the generosity of others to help me face another day as I struggle to have half as much as I used to. I was talking to one of my friends who works for dispatch the other day, and she brought up a new kind of post traumatic stress disorder that hadn’t even occurred to me. People who were right there in the smoke and the fire and the mayhem are having trouble being around it again. As you would. So here we are at the anniversary, and everybody’s memories are being jarred again and again by news…
It’s hard to be a woman. To be a fashionable woman, that is. First of all, hoop earrings. I didn’t know so much stuff came in contact with my ears until wearing hoop earrings. And they’re not even that ostentatious size that could double as bracelets. Just, like, nickel size. My fingers, my hair, my bracelets, keys, my shirt…I don’t know. Then there’s scarves in summer. Some women are able to pull off this accessory flawlessly. I am not one of those women. I am one of those women who just look sweaty and uncomfortable. And vaguely strangled. Because I AM. I live in Tennessee. It’s barely cold enough in January to justify them. This brings me to dresses and tops without zippers. That doesn’t sound so bad until ….dressing rooms. And then it’s too late. They slide on easily enough. Just pull them over your head and slither them over your pudgy skin. Maybe five minutes ago would have been an opportune time to try the Spanx shaping garments because now you can’t get it off. You tug, you pull, you cuss, you pray. You sweat. You panic. You wonder who is near the mall that could dash to your aid. You finally give up and hold your breath and jerk and hope you don’t hear a rip. Because then you’re either going to…
