Sometimes, it’s a lonely thing. And sometimes, it’s like being Jesus.
tweet thisFiled under: Deep South, Everyday, faith, humor, life
I really ought to be on top of the world, right now. (And so, that’s why I am). I am 33 years old. And I’m OK with it. I had a great birthday, hobnobbed with artists, all my favorite people around me, and a chocolate cake that could create world peace. And, I didn’t do anything I had to apologize for the morning after, although there were some broken dishes in the middle of the street before the night was over. (And none of the guests were Greek, either). It was a weekend full of good things, good, true things. And despite this lingering...
The table of Christian Things.
Filed under: Deep South, education, Everyday, faith, humor, life, theatre
On some mornings, as I’m entering the Town That Was, aka Scooba, I have a small (though at one time it was) visual delight, usually, to my right, just as I bump over the railroad tracks, situated all alone in front of what may very well be a defunct fire station. And this is what my small (though at one time it was) visual delight consists of: a faded tent, no doubt purchased “as is,” from some desperate funeral home, I imagine. Beneath the tattered green fabric sits a cheap a la Fred’s-Giving-Away-the-Store-again! plastic table precariously atop four brittle fold-out legs. Adorning this table is a...
Why I don’t like a blue cooler, Or, The dangers of making mud pies.
Filed under: Deep South, education, Everyday, food, health, life
I met my first pedophile when I was eight years old. In Clinton, Mississippi. I didn't know what he was, at the time, nor did any in my small group of friends, except Lori, but that comes later. I do however distinctly remember what he did. It's rather scarred into my memory, as you might imagine. Oh, now, he didn't touch us or anything. We were separated by a chain link fence. And, I hadn't even really thought about it since, until yesterday and I don't know what it was but something crossed my mind and Wham!: there he was, sitting in the...
It was a 5×3 foot piece of heaven, hanging from fat, rusting chains.
Filed under: Deep South, Everyday, faith, family, health, life
Instinctively, I want to say that I have an irrational phobia of horses. But, I realize, when compared next to my other, legitimate phobias like being hit by lightning, or ingesting glass - it isn't quite that severe. So, it's more like a healthy fear and respect for horses that I have, right up there along the lines of my fear of flying...i.e., I can do it, but I don't like it. I can't believe I'm going to say this, but I blame my Annie for this fear of horses - there have been two aunts in my life that I loved so deeply...
If you were to ask me, and I'm pretending that you are…
Filed under: Deep South, education, faith, family, language, writing
I have a friend, back in Indiana, who once accused someone of living of life marred by a ridiculous philosophy: that of the Bumper Sticker. I'm not entirely sure, but I feel that the credit for this sentiment really belongs to Carrie Fisher. But since I don't know Carrie Fisher, not really, I'm going to give it to Christian. He's close enough to count. I'm sure there are plenty of us who actually live a similar life, myself included, even if we're not overly aware of it, along the trench lines of the Bumper Sticker philosophy. I mean, who doesn't love a well-placed pun? I...
Am I merely a heathen, now? Is that what this heartburn is indicating?
I don't want to write this blog. I really don't. (Of course, I'm going to, but still...you should know that I don't really want to). I don't want to write it because it's going to force me to seriously consider the points I'm about to make, or attempt to. Points that are more than likely going to be offensive, both about myself and the culture I live in...and probably to one or two of you, at the least. I like God, let me just say that, upfront. I even like Jesus. I don't know when the last time was that I...
"I hope you're not wadding," she said.
Here is a list, far from exclusive, of things that aggravate me: people on cell phones behind the wheels of cars; vomit; I cannot stand pudding, at all, and other things that fall in that category include meringues and Cool Whip; individuals who misuse (or use at all) the conveyor belts in line at the grocery store, except when absolutely necessary; and cheap toilet paper. Again, this is far from an exclusive list. Of the things listed above, several have affected me in the last 24 hours. Last night I dreamed I couldn't quite get up this rather large hill. It was exhausting,...
I think "nice flip-flops" is an oxymoron.
I think "nice flip-flops" is an oxymoron. That's what I said to Amanda, last night, after the show. She'd brought a group of our professor friends to see my play, and afterwards, as is the normal routine and course for our social troupes, we ambled over next door to the Old Venice Pizza Company, the neighborhood bar and grill, and I stood patiently accepting kudos and the like, something I don't always enjoy doing because it seems so impratically rote, but I endure it all the same - I mean, I was brought up right. All the while, though, I was staring at the Pinot Grigio selections. I was reminded...
That time I almost met Harper Lee.
I take great pride in the Lee last name. According to legend, and also my father who, among his many world travels, visited the "Lee place" in Ireland, etc. I think, from what I can gather, that it was hardly more than a couple of sticks stuck upright in a slab of mortar. I mean, that's been centuries back; the only palpable evidence was that of the family crest, but don't ask me what's on that thing. I couldn't tell you. What I do know is that there were only ever two Lee brothers who set out for the New World. Both...
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