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Browsing Tag: #Lent2019
I sometimes think I don’t deserve the friends I have. Y’all are way too nice to be hanging around riffraff like me. A month or so ago, after Rhonda had met a few members of my extended tribe, she remarked –totally out of the blue– “You have the nicest friends!” I usually meet the nicest ones through work, where they can’t run and have no choice but to hang out with me. Does that explain it? I thought so. Or, I give them money for providing me with a service, so it’s like I’m paying them to be my friend. I’ll name no names, but I bet you’re smiling 🙂 Or, you might just be family and clearly, you have no choice. So the girl I write about today falls into one of these categories. I’m protecting the innocent by not naming any names. She’s fairly introverted, but she talks to me. We have a similar set of bad nerves and it is therapeutic to share notes. She’s just a small town girl living in what passes for a big city to her. I know it must be hard adapting, moving away from everything you’ve ever known. It’d be like packing me up and moving me down to Atlanta or something. I’d be shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm! Fortunately…
It’s been said there are two varieties of people that tell the truth: drunk people and little kids. While that’s true, I know someone else who tells the truth, and she ain’t drunk and she ain’t little. It’s Barb. Some of you know Barb. She spent more years at the Co-op than I did, and it’s only people with Very Thick Skin that can endure a decade + in that place. I don’t even know where to start. I guess I should introduce you since you might not know her. She’s tall, with skinny little kildee bird legs (you can thank Gary Hicks for that particular detail). She’s got a grin a mile wide and dancing eyes behind gold rimmed glasses. We never ran out of things to talk about (sometimes it was a contest who could talk the most), because we were forever recommending books to one another. And chattering about places to eat. We shared a similar attitude about road trips: open the door and you’ll find us parked in the front seat. We love the beach, especially Charleston, and we constantly reminded each other of how much time before our next trip. Barb doesn’t sneeze once or twice-she sneezes five or six times in a row. It’s remarkable. I’ve never met anybody that customarily did that. But Barb does. Once…
I didn’t stop for a doughnut this morning. I didn’t go out for lunch. I won’t be picking up barbeque for supper. No, I’m not on a literal fast today (talk about making me HANGRY) but I’m not buying anything. Zip. Zilch. Nada. No nothin’. I’m out of eyeliner. Too bad. Should have popped by Belk yesterday. I would sure like a slice of cookie cake. Oh well. Good thing I don’t need gas, ’cause I guess I’d be begging y’all for a ride to and fro. No using Uber. No books from the online retailer I use with frequency. No new socks or body wash or any number of vital items. Granted, I’m only fasting for one day, so it’s no big deal, but it does make one conscious of all the things we buy. Maybe that will be my thing next year: limited amount of groceries, no excess anything, including gas. Who picked this for me? Somebody that knows me well- myself. I’ve been in prayer for Christy, my friend of nearly twenty years, the Christy who does my hair. She couldn’t think of anything and told me to pick something that I would benefit from. I chose this sacrifice, because Christy is frugal and thinks through every single purchase she makes. Unlike me. I need to be more like…
Not everything that happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, thank God. Some people you meet there and you get the privilege of staying their friend forever and ever. And you can’t understand how it’s possible to have so much in common with someone you’d never met and that you primarily communicate with via text and Facebook. Jill and I both have curly hair and penchant for citing Steel Magnolias at every opportunity. We know our Co-op stuff (aaaalllll the stuff) forward and back, even though neither of us are employed by them any longer. We have an unhealthy obsession for M&Ms, and a wanderlust attitude. If you are all of these things, you can join our club after a thorough vetting process. Jill has tasked me with thinking no negative thoughts. It’s been on my mind since I woke up. So I’ve spent the day with my (typically hidden) optimistic attitude. Good thing I didn’t have my checkbook and receipts here, I would be breaking Lent for sure! I’ve been avoiding Facebook for the most part, as well. It’s hard for me not to criticize. I worked in the yard a little bit but was better off in the kitchen, where I have a better chance of living up to my standards. I’ve set a low goal of pulling staples from the hardwood floor of the back bedroom closet…
Slow ride….take it easy. No, it isn’t another must obey the speed limit challenge, I just had vague instructions to enjoy the scenery and stay out of the fast lane. Easy enough, as there isn’t much of a fast lane on my commute these days. But I decided to take the back-est back roads on my way home. Comin’ in…well, that isn’t much of an option, as I’m runnin’ like a scalded dog to get there on time. Today, I’m praying for the one I affectionately dubbed “Number Three” years ago, because it was determined she was one of my three favorite people. I haven’t seen her in a few years, but she’s still right up there. She’s a fellow Co-op person, and we share the same snarky attitude and sick sense of humor. We used to joke that we needed a morning show…except we really weren’t joking. It’s a shame we never got to see what would happen if I let a mousetrap snap on my finger. If anybody has performed this particular dare, please enlighten me. I’m still curious. I can’t decide what my favorite memory is of us, but I like to remember all of our wicked dreams of exacting revenge. But I suppose we’ve grown up since then…
Sigh. Sigh. I’m doing that a lot lately. Then I remember my breathing yoga-esque exercises and try to relax my shoulders and ground myself and think happy thoughts. Which ties into my Lent fast today. I am to give up hate. Now, this is a tricky thing. Those of you who know me are like, “Amy hates??? She seems so happy and carefree!!” and the ones of you who really know me are laughing hysterically. Because, in general, no, I’m not much of a hater. I LIKE stuff. I LOVE stuff. I attempt to look for the beauty and happiness in life. But then….people. I like to say I’m an equal opportunity racist. I hate all people equally. I don’t even hate my hate! I like to be angry sometimes. I think our rage protects us to a point. Like, if I didn’t get mad, my feelings would be hurt, and Lord knows my feelings are right there at the edge anyway. I’m the biggest crybaby there ever was. And some people don’t appreciate that, it’s seen as a weakness in the workplace, especially. So it’s better to be angry. I hate getting sunburned but I like peeling the dead skin off. It feels so nice when fresh air hits it. It’s so satisfying to get a big long piece. I hate peeling oranges but…
Life has a way of humbling you. It seems like as soon as you have a plan for the way you want your life to go, here comes a great big socket wrench right at your face. So you revise, and find a new path. You might even get to continue that way for awhile, but sooner or later you hit a pothole and you veer offtrack again. Except it’s only offtrack in your mind, God had decided long before how things were going to go for you. It’s just hard to swallow sometimes. I know a girl who was destined to do great things. She was going into the military. She was hoping to work in Intelligence. And she could have. But she changed her mind during aptitude tests. The Army wanted her, but being a Sagittarius, her mind was made up and that was that. She was going out of state to school to major in communications. She was a big communicator. But her best laid plans were shot again. Back home and pregnant, she worked a series of jobs that weren’t designed to be career-building, but they paid the bills. And at one, she met her husband. New plans. More children. And now: a house in the midst of cornfields, a gym membership, and a cabinet full of wine, we find our hopeful CIA agent. Her eyes are the same, even if her hair is not. Her parents, already old…
My friends are cruel. I’m not even gonna keep you in suspense on this one. No jewelry. Do you KNOW how much I love my jewelry? It hangs from every doorknob in my bedroom, two drawers crammed full, two jewelry trees, and a jewelry box. The bigger and flashier, the better. And not one piece will adorn me today. No eye-catching necklace, no jingling bracelets, no sparkly rings, not even my tiny glittering studs are in my ears. I feel exposed. But. The reason is solid, and so I dressed in such a way I wouldn’t have worn much, anyway. I feel so drab. I feel like a BOY. But I suppose it came on an okay-enough day. I didn’t have to go anywhere today, besides work and spin, and at work I’m not exactly flocked with strangers most days. As for spin, I take almost all my jewelry off, and I don’t think I can look any worse than when I’m exercising, so it’s fine. Who gave me this little piece of hell, you want to know? My good friend, Jena. That’s right, she knows exactly where to go for blood. Dirty, dirty. I would never mistreat her that way. Y’all should know I just spent an eternity hunting for a certain picture of her on my flash drives. I didn’t find it but here’s…
You may not like someone the first time you meet them. Or the second. Or maybe not even the third. But eventually they may wear you down, grow on you like a mole. Before you realize it, it’s there, and you never even noticed. This is how it was for me with Brandi. I worked with her husband for awhile before I ever met her. She had a bit of a reputation for being brazen and opinionated. And LOUD. She made up for her short stature with volume. Brandi has narrowed eyes that miss nothing. She talks fast and drives faster. She has an extremely low tolerance for b.s., which is unfortunate because she’s surrounded with drama. That comes with the territory when raising a teenager, I suppose. She’s smokes to offset the stress. Anyway, I don’t remember the moment where I decided she was all bark and no bite (when it came to me, anyway. The rest of y’all will have to fend for yourselves). Maybe when she lowered her guard with me when she saw I wasn’t after her husband! Scotty became my “work husband” pretty early on, because I could trust him to not leave me on top of pallet racks or the little office after raising me up with the forklift. He always helped me lift salt bricks (hey, 48# is a lot when it’s over your head!) and…
A long time ago, I lived on Sugarloaf Mountain. On Sugarloaf Mountain, I had many things: time on my hands, a Saanan goat named Daisy whom I led around like a dog on a purple leash printed with daisies, a very long driveway, and a pair of Watusi cattle named Gus and Clara. I also had excellent neighbors across the ridge named Donnie and Alene. Alene was a fellow bookworm and we would trade paperbacks as frequently as we traded recipes. She started me some flowers and we would take them eggs. She was like another mother to me, so warm and inviting. They had a pond and many summer afternoons you could find me there feeding their catfish…or catching them. I walked with Alene around her yard as she pointed out various flowers and where they had come from. She had beautiful, thick, clematis vines climbing up her carport. It was a quiet life for a 26 year old. I felt like a homesteader, working in my lettuce bed and scattering corn for the wild turkeys. Flash forward twelve years. I had worked with Alene in the 911 building until she retired, and I moved off the mountain, back home. I ran into Donnie and Alene at the funeral home (that’s where I see everybody!) and I learned that they, too, had moved. It was so good to see them and catch up! I hugged their necks off. The next time I saw Donnie he…
