I woke up early this morning to the sound of the wind, mad with power, giving hell to the trees out back like some kind of bully saying Stop hitting yourself, stop hitting yourself… I watched through the gap in my blinds long enough to imagine, several times over, what it would be like to see pieces of that big tree crack and start falling to the ground below. It seemed unlikely that the branches…
• Watch Semi-Homemade Cooking With Sandra Lee. Take a shot of whisky every time she says “wonderful” or “beautiful.” Take two shots and punch yourself in the face every time she says “wonderful wonderful” or “beautiful beautiful.” • Funnel a can of PBR every time you hear a Hum song in a car ad. • Pour vodka in your ears every time that OxiClean/Kaboom dude comes on the screen and yells at you for no…
My dad just called and sang Rocky Top to me. [In case you’re living under a rock, there’s a big game today.]
You spend nearly every waking moment of the past few months psyching yourself up for the moment when you’ll demand your independence, when you’ll put a stop to that nebulous relationship that is equal parts frustrating and comfortable, that doesn’t have a label, necessarily, but that you know can’t be sustained forever because it’s smothering you both. And then you do it, you put your foot down, you make the call, you end it —…
Love it when you stay late at the office to get some work done on a special project and the one program you really need to work in totally craps out on you. Thanks, Fred*. *Yes, the name of the program really is Fred.
My grandmother is trying to fix me up with a boy. Who lives in Australia. No, really.
[Bit of backstory: Between my mother and my father, four deer have met their fates at the bumper of a Turner vehicle in the past four years. I don’t know how or why; that’s just part of living and driving out in the middle of nowhere, I guess. So this morning when we left the house at 4:30, it was pitch dark out, and we were reasonably paranoid about psycho deer running in out front…
I got roughly an hour and a half of sleep. Would have been more had I had enough sense to go sleep in an actual bed and not on the couch, which is in the same room as a clock that chimes triumphantly every fifteen minutes. What the hell is the point of a clock that chimes every fifteen minutes? To remind you of the tedium of not being dead? Anyway, this day should be…
My mother’s appointment in Nashville tomorrow is at 7 a.m. Nashville is, on a good day, a two-and-a-half-hour drive from here. Factoring in I-40 madness (of which there is always at least a little) and Nashville morning traffic, I doubt we’ll be able to make it in less than three. Which means we need to leave at 4 a.m. Which means I would need to get up at 3 a.m. to get ready. Which means,…
I’m at my parents’ house. All evening we’ve been watching old home videos that I coaxed my brother to get out of the safe. So far we’ve covered 1992 and 1993. I have been rolling in the floor laughing until I couldn’t breathe and tears streamed down my face. There is a Fourth of July clip in which all you can see is some fireworks going off in the yard and our stupid fire-eating dog…
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