So, that one time, I committed a crime, OK?
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Let me tell you why I like Lowe’s. They’re not afraid to bend the rules, for you. I can’t say how far they would bend them—sharing trade secrets, “extras” given rather than purchased—but I will tell you this: they’ll go the distance to help you get mint. Every year around this time, this humid, wet, hot time, I get the notion that, once again, who I really am has nothing to do with theatre, writing, or teaching. No, who I am, in fact, is a Farmer. I drag out the tools from the side of the house and cultivate the small...
It doesn’t matter because we’re eating Chinese food.
Filed under: Deep South, Everyday, faith, family, food, life, writing
Nothing irks me quite the way getting a bum Chinese fortune cookie does. And I love me a good Chinese fortune cookie. I live for them; I just don’t eat them – in case they come true. The only reason I frequent any Chinese buffet, though, even the one in Dekalb, is for the sole purpose of receiving, $9.00 later, that little baked, folded, American invention we call the Chinese fortune cookie. I guess there’s a little of Ya Ya in me, after all. Because of her, I reserve a small portion of my spirituality for the sake of superstition. It’s fun. And she taught...
I drank it as if it were holier than Coke.
Hold on, now. Don't think I'm crazy, entirely, but I have on three separate occasions dreamed things that have then occurred. In actual life. The first involved a childhood pet, Scruff, who had gone to live with my grandparents at Fish Camp, a family compound surrounded my cabins, ponds, a basic swimming pool, and a torturously long vegetable garden, where we gathered each summer for a fish fry and the annual task of grading blueberries and other such fruit; several on my father's side were in the fruit farm industry; after an afternoon of grading blueberries, there is no child on...
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