I can't die here, not this close to the Mennonite bakery.
tweet thisFiled under: Deep South, faith, family, food, health
I think I almost died last Friday morning, right outside of Macon, Mississippi. The weather was atrocious, as it has been for the past two solid weeks; the rain was torrential (FYI: that's a word on My Favorite Words List, which I keep in my glove compartment), the wind was ridiculous, and the roads held pockets of watery vengeance...but that's not what I thought was I dying from. Because I'm a fairly safe driver. It's one of the good qualities I inherited from my father. I kept my cruise control right on 60 mph, stayed in the slow lane, and I'd successfully...
I stress when there's nothing to stress about because I'm so ready to prove that I can handle stress.
I think I've told you I'm pretty good in a crisis. And if I haven't, well...I'm pretty good in a crises. At least the major ones. I'm fairly adept at "getting things done" in a hurricane, tornado, family death, and so on. Little things, though, little things get me but good. If I lose a tennis match, or misplace the car keys: watch out. I'm not sure why this is the way it is. It doesn't really make much sense...or does it? My wiring is designed for disaster. (That's not really a good thing, either). But, when things settle, or there comes a long...
I was able to order my fish sandwich without incident.
I can no longer ignore the inevitable because Wednesday, June 24, is fast approaching. And that is the day in which I must board a plane. And fly to Memphis, in which, I will get off one plane and onto another one...and head to Tacoma. A city in a state so far away from here that it might as well not even be a part of the United States. Few other things make me as defensive or difficult as flying. Because I'm so afraid of it. Not just because I'm mean. Flying is something that I can safely hate. I become neurotic, distraught, maybe even mean...I'm...
She could smell me, couldn't she?
I don't mean to brag, but my hometown has what appeared to me, yesterday, to be the cleanest and most organized landfill ever in the entire world. At least from inside the truck. I'd taken the day off and driven home because, ironically, I'd not managed to make it there on Sunday for Nana's cooking. I intended on staying an hour at most, a quick lunch, a few updates, etc. but instead, I found myself at the landfill. Here's how it happened. I was making myself a sandwich from porkchop leftovers. Nana and U.L. were under the carport cleaning. I have never...
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