It’s time to start the diet back up
Tonight my dad commented on the size of my ankles.
Tonight my dad commented on the size of my ankles.
Sunday morning in Memphis. Old School Freight Train is on the iTunes, water is on the stove boiling for coffee, and biscuits are waiting to be put in the oven. Yes, they’re frozen but they deserve respect because they will be delicious. The AC is earning its keep up above me. It’s a trip having your own central air. You Midtown people know what I’m talking about, I’m sure. That quiet chilly breath on your…
The lilies my mom transplanted for me finally bloomed! My camera can’t seem to handle bright red! I should figure out why! And fix it!
As I watched my mom look over the orchestra of plants she had been nursing for years and years, choosing which ones to pass on to me, I realized that she is passing a torch to me.
It occurs to me that some day she might decide to come read T&G. She knows it exists and has for years, and I think she may have seen it a time or two. But I don’t think she reads it regularly. She has said before that she would just as soon let me have my little private internet corner. Now that we have gifted her with a portable computer, I feel like it may…
Monday night I came home with a hatch full of Turner-grown greenery, gifted to me by my mom, who just keeps finding things she wants me to try in my yard. I went over all the special instructions in my head (put this in dirt as soon as you get home, apply some rootone to this but shake off the excess before planting, the seeds in this bag will mold if they get any prolonged…
It’s a rainy morning here in scenic Saltillo, Tenn. Bill Engvall’s funny-video show is on the TV and dad’s in the recliner snoring. Mom’s napping in bed. Yesterday we gave my mom a laptop for Mother’s Day, which she was so excited and surprised about. She and Dad have had the same old Dell desktop since about 2001. They’ve done no operating system or RAM upgrades in the intervening years, so you can sort of…
Mom, dad, and the nephews came down Sunday and we went to a Redbirds game. We were among a dozen or so people in attendance on what turned out to be a lovely evening. I am exaggerating. There had to be thirty people there. It felt nice to show off the park and even nicer that the Redbirds won. Going to those games is bittersweet; it’s always fun but when I go, I see how…
The limb‘s on me, the insurance company says. (I inquired because it appears that I now have a leak in the ceiling in, curiously, the exact spot where that bastard hit the roof.) Just because it fell from a neighbor’s tree doesn’t make the neighbor responsible, seeing as how it was “an act of God” and all. Bokay. So begins my quest to find a roofer who will either come in way under my deductible…
Last night I took the trash down to the curb barefoot for the first time ever. The air was cool but the concrete was warm under my feet. The bin rolled smoothly and no neighbor dogs took notice. It was a sublime moment. Apparently I have a private crew of yard workers who will just cruise into town periodically and mow and weedeat and bring me bulbs and clumps of greenery and sprigs of trees…
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