First things first…
tweet thisFiled under: Deep South, Everyday, family, humor
One thing that seems universal to all children is the idea of what it means to be first. It doesn’t matter at what they’re being the first, either. Being first carries within it all the intended glory necessary. First to sit still, first to get a haircut, first to touch base during hide-and-seek, first to finish dinner. Endless possibilities. My nephews, this past Sunday, case in point, were running neck-and-neck, outside, racing each other from one side of the yard to the other, simply for the bragging rights of saying, “I beat you. I got here first.” Wynn Chandler, the baby who...
Copycats are amazing listeners.
I’m not taking any illegal drugs, let me just get that out in the open, right off the bat. And I don’t think my diet has changed all that significantly, though I’ve graduated from Grade A, Farm Fresh, Organic Vegetarian to Fine-I’ll-Eat-Fish-anarian. But, something is making me have crazy, exhaustive dreams, as of late. It’s not the first time I’ve had crazy dreams, but rather, it is the first time I’ve had a regular string of them. I’m going on Week 3, now. Which makes for 21 nights of what can truly be called dreams of “complete abandon.” I’ve been shot twice, lately;...
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