It was a 5×3 foot piece of heaven, hanging from fat, rusting chains.
tweet thisFiled 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...
I feel pretty sure God said He was going to stop doing that to people.
I love bad weather. I hate flying. Putting the two together does not help, because the spectrum on which they reside is of equal value. Both haunt my dreams, and continuously. I'm hoping...against hope I would imagine since we're entering that stage of the season where thunderstorms lurk around the farthest oak trees, down the highway, and then appear suddenly, from the limb tops...still, I'm holding out that the weather will be nice toward the end of June when I must board a plane and fly to Tacoma, Washington. For funsies, you say? No. Not for funsies. For competition. The community theatre I work with...
When TVs were furniture.
When I was growing up, we only had three channels on TV. Four, if the weather held and the antenna was cooperative. Those precious, precious channels were 2, 4, 9, and sometimes 11. If not for the fickle, rusty antenna, I may very well have developed an unnatural kinship with the TV. Oh, that antenna...a genuine eyesore, standing as it had my whole life, like a Sentry a little above the chimney; it also served as a lightning rod, so you know, we had to decide which was more important: ABC on Channel 11 coming out of Meridian legibly, or a house on fire if we were ever...
Advertise With Us
