Sometimes I have thoughts that cling to me. I find them evoking in some way. That’s what my blogs are for…But for the life of me I can’t seem to construct one today. So today I will leave you only with my haphazard thoughts that go together about like mustard and ice cream. Eww.
Why do songs from CDs feel different than song from the radio?
Standing in the dressing room: Why the hell would anyone ever even consider wearing this…anywhere?
When did the wheat head out? Where have I been? Did this happen overnight? Surely this happened over night…
On the drive back to Sikeston: Oh sweet, flat Delta home, how I’ve missed you. I like being able to tell people that I’m from a place so flat you can kick the ground and make the biggest hill for miles around.
Riding around the farm while the summer sun settles down: The sinking sun is glowing on his hair, casting funny shadows of me on his shoulder. With my feet on the dash and the windows rolled down just enough to carelessly wreck my hair, I breathe in the sweet, sweaty summer and sigh, “this is life.”
If I haven’t clipped anything to put in my “Dream Big Binder” lately does that mean I am not even driven enough to dream? Lazy much…?
Group message autocorrect-mistakes and emojis are the best entertainment for groups of girlfriends on those mundane days at work. Oh and Snap Chat. Definitely Snap Chat.
Pinterest is every girl’s guilty, shame-free, unsocial, social media. You can pin things on there that you would never even consider posting on other outlets like Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter because there are men that might see it for goodness sake! Just admit it- we’re all as guilty as the next for having wedding boards a mile long and baby wardrobes planned way before we ever get a ring. No judgment here.
Some of the new floral patterns in clothing are supposed to be “feminine” and cute. But I just look at them and see material for outdated cushions on those white wicker couches. Or bad drapes.
I wish the newly proposed Farm Bill would have passed.
As I get older, I realize that I do not put as much emphasis on bras as I used to. Push-up, smush-up…sports bras are way more comfortable. I call them “boob jail” either way and prefer to let my inmates free as soon as I get home.
I like getting old. I have started to care more about my insides than my outsides. And my outsides are starting to look better (to me, at least) because of it.
Here’s a little tip: if you’re ever eating peanuts out of the shell, don’t pull off the rust colored skin between the peanut and the shell. That’s possibly the most beneficial part of the whole peanut. I did a lot of reading on peanuts yesterday because I thought I had discovered the “fountain of youth.” I didn’t….but learned quite a bit in my research.
If I owned a football team, I’d offer Tebow a contract. It’s crazy to me that people are afraid of his “media circus” that follows….in my opinion, the players with the mistresses, ten children from different mothers, murder and rape convictions, etc. etc. are the circus acts.
This Paula Deen thing has been blown way out of proportion. I don’t think there is one person on this planet that has never said something off color. (Besides babies that can’t speak…yet.) End of discussion.
I swam in the Tom-Bigbee River for the first time last weekend. It was smelly and I couldn’t even see my own shoulders beneath the murky water. But it’s was fun. And worth the kink it put in my hair.
If you’ve never read anything by Rick Bragg, you should. Here’s a good place to start: http://thedailysouth.southernliving.com/2013/06/10/stillness/
Hope you have the best day ever.
Love always,
Addie
“But someone, somewhere, is looking after me, and sent me another train. I hear it bump through the city…in the small hours of the morning, and I dream and wonder, again, though I know exactly where it goes.”- Rick Bragg
Breaking out of the Bootheel 