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down time

16 Aug

It’s almost midnight on a work night and I know I should be in bed. Tomorrow is well, tomorrow, and I will stumble through it in what has come to be my normal zombie-like state. I’m having trouble getting to bed before this time lately. I just feel like this time of night is the only time I get time for me to be alone, decompress from the day and just be.

I have so much swirling around in my head these days. I just wish you could quiet your mind like you can quiet your body. Get your brain to drink some hot chocolate, burrow down under a quilt and just stop thinking for one minute. Stupid brain.  

The big things going on right now (each deserving of their own post) are my brother’s upcoming wedding next month (yay!), putting our house on the market and all that entails, finding another house and moving across town (ahhhhhhh), massive future job changes and current job stresses (this is really getting to me), the constantness of kiddo (wow, they really don’t go away do they? i keed i keed), and hoping to fit a mini-vacation in somewhere among all of this (yes please).

And then there are the things I’d like to do just for me. I want to write more. I have blog posts and poems and just silly things I’d like to get down on paper or on the screen. I have a list of books longer than a jumbo roll of toilet paper that I’d love to read. Friends I’d like to see, letters to write, scrapbooks to make, etc etc etc. Maybe when I retire.  So here I sit, thinking about all of this while my dog lays at the foot of the couch and chews on the stinkiest hoof ever. Ugh, dude, go away with that thing.

My brain and I are off to bed now.  After I spray the dog with Febreeze.

dear diary, you crack me up

4 Mar

Heh. Sometimes I’ll go back and read through old entries in my journal. Various reactions follow including mass amounts of cringing, eye rolling, “good grief”s, face reddening, scrunching up of the nose or squinting of the eyes, and sometimes a smile or smirk.

Here are some of the more tame, short exerpts from my journal, minus the context, that made me do one or more of those things.

  • wow, I’m a dork. the end.
  • Mondays suck. They suck big fat rounded objects that taste bad.
  • She glared at everything from behind Nine West eyeglasses and freshly razored bangs.
  • And Newscoma was there! So awesome to meet her as I read her blog all the time!
  • I need to Google.
  • This is not a yip or a woof, this is a country-coon-dog-deep-guttural-passionate-my-life-is-over yowl. Moaning as if her life will surely end if she does not tree that squirrel immediately.
  • As the figuring out my life thing was not going so well, I did the next best thing and went to help mom hang wallpaper. Yes I know I am teetering on the brink of insanity.
  • Bastards. Positive, positive, be positive.
  • I’m pregnant!!!! Holy Sh!t!!!
  • I’m not pregnant…started bleeding…
  • I love him. I just do.
  • Don’t feel so trapped. Having options gives you power.

So many more gems I could include but these were the ones I noticed at a quick glance through.  

Observations: It seems I curse a lot when I write in my journal. Sorry mom, I just do. And whine a lot. And am brutally honest. And am raw. And am just…me.


hey mr. postman

3 Dec

I got the coolest thing in the mail yesterday. My sweet mummy and daddy sent me a set of stationery. Not just any stationery, Parisian stationery. Not from Paris, but with Paris “stuff” on it. Sheesh, why I gotta explain myself so much to you guys? Anywho, it was the coolest.

I was also thrilled to get a sweet card and two honest-to-goodness letters from my brother and his fiance in the mail a couple of days ago. I love those kids.

A letter is the perfect gift. I mean, what takes more thought and consideration than to sit down with an actual pen and paper and compose sentences, written conversation with a specific individual in mind? It doesn’t get any more personal I don’t think. I mean, you’ve got to lick the envelope and everything.

I used to write real live letters all the time on real live paper. I wrote everyone, my bff, my parents, boyfriends, everyone. Not so much anymore now that email and the internet have taken over.

I should make an effort to write more letters. New Year’s Resolution #327.

Here’s a pic of my cool gift…

Y’all have a nice day and go write a letter or somethin’.

dear diary

20 Aug

This is my journal. My real journal. The kind with actual paper that you write on with a pen or pencil. The kind you hold in your hands, then slowly crack the binding and smile slightly as you blemish the first page with your favorite ink pen. That kind of journal. The romantic old fashioned REAL kind.


I have a zillion of these books, most of them only half-filled with snippets of me. After a while, as with most things, I bore with them and a pretty new book catches my eye so I buy it and begin filling it with random doodles, heartwrenching confessions, cheesy poetry; stuff I wouldn’t dare post here. Then they go on a shelf somewhere, get stuffed into a box or under the bed and the cycle repeats with a fresh book. I like the new start a clean journal gives me. I guess its symbolic in a way that seems ridiculously obvious and trite. But still true for me.

Sometimes I read through the old ones and laugh or sometimes cringe. I’ve been known to rip out pages and burn them to keep anyone, myself included, from ever reading them again. But I always remember what I wrote.  The real me isn’t on this blog or Facebook or Twitter or anywhere really, except in my journals.

…he breaks my heart a little more every time…sam rolled over today…even though i’m a grown married woman, sometimes i feel like a high school girl…my grandfather died today, i’ve been crying for hours…the power went out at work and ironically, it was the highlight of my day…i’m pregnant, holy shit…i’m in paris and in love…they think dad had a stroke…i miscarried our baby today…mom graduated from college last weekend…i am running away…tonight we kissed in the rain…


2 Nov

Another weekend bites the dust.  Boo. 

I am soooooo sick of all the election mumbo-jumbo.  Seriously, can we just get this over with please?  I’m glad I early voted so I don’t have to worry about getting to the polls on time or fighting the crowds.  For once I did something ahead of time and didn’t procrastinate.  Go me.  Saturday Night Live = hilarity.

I heard Sam laugh for the first time today.  A for real, genuine, unmistakable laugh.  It was so cute!  The Accountant was making faces and being goofy and she LOVES it.  I don’t want to wish this baby stage away but I am really excited to watch her progress through all those “firsts” stages.  It is so amazing.

I’ve noticed that a few of my fellow bloggers are taking part in NaBloPoMo and NaNoWriMo.  The later one scares the pants off of me so I will not attempt that one.  But I do think I will semi-try to do NaBloPoMo but only unofficially.  I don’t like to put that kind of pressure on myself.  Ha.  If you are wondering why I am speaking in tongues, NaBloPoMo is National Blog Posting Month and you are supposed to post on your blog every day in November.  Sounds easy right?  We’ll see.  So I’m going unofficial so I don’t feel any guilt if I miss a day or two.  NaNoWriMo is National Novel Writing Month and this one is a bit more complicated.  Bottom line – get words on paper and come away with a novel in November.  I think the goal is 50,000 words?  I’m working up to this one.  For me the key is “don’t think, just write”.

Daylight savings time….meh.  Not a fan really.  Why are we messing with the clock?  I’ll get used to it, I always do.  I never get an extra hour of sleep though because I’m always calculating in my mind “ok, it’s 11:00 old time which means it’s really only 10:00 new time so I can stay up an hour later and it will all be the same to my internal timeclock”.  I’m a fan of psychological games I guess.  (Randomness – is “timeclock” a legit word? Doesn’t the word clock denote the concept of time so using the two words together seems silly, right? Yes, I am crazy.)

Titans game – woohoo!  8 – 0!!!  Scout ventured to the game and I think she got her money’s worth! 

Mike Huckabee and Bill Maher are arguing about religion on Fox News right now.  Very interesting.  I have to hand it to both of them, the conversation is quite civil.  Discussion is a good thing.

It just hit me today that we are about to be bombarded with Christmas “stuff”.  I was in Kroger this afternoon and they were putting up the tree and stocking (heh, no pun intended, really) the seasonal aisle.  For the first time in several years, we will be putting up a tree!  We put one up the first few years we lived in our house but then decided it was too much trouble and such a pain to take down.  But now that we have Sami, I feel like it’d be a travesty to not put one up, even though she won’t remember this one or care one way or the other.  But I’ll bet she will like the lights though.  I’m thinking the weekend of Thanksgiving…

Ok, must get all my junk together for tomorrow.  Ciao.

shameless plug

12 Oct

If your weekend plans happen to include the Southern Festival of Books be sure to stop by the booth of the Williamson County Council for the Written Word and check out Muscadine Lines.   

 The anthology contains the writings of contributors to the online magazine, Muscadine Lines: A Southern Journal.  I have a couple of pieces in it, as does my mom.  Take a gander. 

Update: Just saw this article about the Festival in the Tennessean.

Diary For Sale

15 Apr

I was glancing through the headlines earlier and saw where Anna Nicole’s diaries were up for auction but so far had failed to sell.  This got me to thinking about privacy and intrusion into a person’s private thoughts and personal effects after their death.  Regardless of the life Ms. Smith led I think selling her diaries to the highest bidder is a callous thing to do.  I wonder how she would feel to know that things she wrote for the sake of journaling and to fulfill whatever need keeping a diary filled for her were being sold at auction for any and all to view?  Would she be embarrassed, out and out mortified, thrilled with the attention, what?  She was aware that she lived in the pubic eye but shouldn’t the things she purposely kept private be left private?

I have kept journals off and on throughout my entire life and the thought of these books being publicized gives me pause.  In periodic closet cleaning endeavors I’ve came across dusty old journals and reread them.  A few times I’ve destroyed my writings just because the feelings they contained were no longer pertinent and seemed petty, and not something I wanted anyone else to ever read about.  Maybe that was a mistake on my part, simply because all events, feelings and reactions that we have at any point in our lives play a part in the person we are at the present and were valid feelings at the time. 

Would I read the diary of a loved one if I happened upon it after they had passed on?  Yes, I’m sure I would unless I had been asked not to.  But what if I didn’t like what I read there?  What if there were things written there that I should never have known or would never have wanted to know about that person?  Depending on what the journal contained, wouldn’t that affect how I thought of that person from that point on?  Of course it would.  There is always some risk involved by reading what someone had thought would always remain private.

I understand the great historical value of old letters and writings of long dead literary greats or political leaders and the sentimental value and family history/genealogy that is contained in letters between spouses, siblings, parents and children.  Letters kept in my family from our grandfathers to their wives, our grandmothers, during war-time are prized possessions never to be sold.  And I wouldn’t object to my future children, grandchildren, and so forth reading letters that DH and I have written to each other over the years, if only so they will know the great love we have for each other.  That is a powerful piece of family legacy to have a tangible hold on.

I just think privacy is something to be taken seriously.  There is a certain line that should not be crossed.  And some things are better left unsaid, or at least unpublicized.

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