I’ll be honest — I’ve had a couple of days now of nagging worry. Tuesday I slipped on a pair of pants that I was unable to button just last week and the dang things fit. I thought maybe it was a fluke so I tried on another pair and sure enough, it fit too. I mean, they fit OK but not awfully comfortably. The same thing happened Wednesday, I don’t know. I find it…
The bulge continues to embiggen and I find myself unable to stop touching it and feeling its contours when my mind wanders or I am walking somewhere. What, exactly, is in there? Better yet, who? These questions are as big as the universe right now. This weekend Ray’s mom and my mom and sister came to town to celebrate his graduation. The conversation, naturally, turned to babythings. My sister demanded that I would want an…
As the pickers rifle through dusty junk in dilapidated barns with corrugated metal roofs, I see an entire way of life that has all but evaporated.
Mom and Dad set me up with some “chrome” hubcabs for Christmas. (They are shiny plastic; I’m not insane.) I’ve been riding with two hubcaps for at least half a year now. Longer than that. I’ve lost three hubcaps over the years, replaced one. They are not cheap. But these beauties? Boy, don’t they shine. [Project 365]
I duped Ray into traveling across the state with me for my annual trek to the family timeshare in Gatlinburg. The first day was a complete tear-filled wash (seriously, I thought we were going to die) but when we finally made it to East Tennessee, things got better and more vacation-y. The fella had never been to that neck of the woods before, and while I declined to immerse him in the Black Bear Jamboree…
More than three decades and my dad still calls my mom his “green-eyed beauty.” Cheers, you crazy kids.
The responses I’ve gotten to what I wrote about Charlie Brown’s Sad Thanksgiving for Fatties have been really interesting. Whole lotta solidarity coming from the ladies re: the weight crazies. I’m so thankful that there are people who will reach out to connect about such a very personal issue. BUT. I hate that the need is even there. I hate that there are other people fighting this same fight, routinely winding themselves into knots of…
I had a bit of a meltdown yesterday right before Thanksgiving dinner. Everything had been going more or less okay; I got up and on the road to the parents’ as early as I could, since my mom had texted me the day before, telling me to hightail it early since I’d be trying to outrun bad weather. I was flying solo, as Ray had to work that afternoon. That sucked, but you gotta do…
Saturday afternoon my aunt Vicki and her crew — boyfriend Paul and friend Ralph — rolled into town for the UT-Memphis football game, an affair we had been planning for months. We had a few hours to kill and found ourselves at India Palace, heaping piles of deliciousness onto stark white buffet plates. Why is it that I can never remember to wait and get a big plate from the middle, and instead, always end…
You must be logged in to post a comment.