My friend the melungeon AKA Hidden Mahala and I are some of the smartest most patient gals around when it comes to hanging in there through the hard times. She's right across the border in North Carolina living with bunnies and dogs and TA close to Aunt Moses. Both of us need a sugardaddy more than anybody can imagine simply because we believe in doing the right and spiritual thing and telling those who tend to persecute us to back off. I can identify every one of her office mates in my own sawmill and it's hilarious. Twatwaffle indeed! Hang in there girl I'm gonna' find BOTH of us a daddy. It's a sort of remote location where the biggest thing happens is tourism and (mostly) bikers who like the hills. I reckon they burn or something.
I'm ashamed to say that I haven't actually sat still long enough to read a book in ages. Linda MC gave me 18 and 19 of Stephanie, Lula and Grandma Mazur so I'm set for the surgery whenever it happens. Um, that is after I round up somebody with a truck and a helper to fetch me a recliner from the grands' house. My bed is off the frame and against the wall, stacked three high and wobbling precariously. That must be fixed as well. This may be TMI but we've been watching little bitty prissy ass Gizmo trying to lay it on Ryder and it's hilarious. Those would be some might curious lookin' puppies.I remember my therapist once asking me about what I read and it was always self help. She couldn't fathom that I didn't explore the otherworld instead of trying to fix myself. That led to a wonderful schooling in the joy of words that tell stories of days gone by. For that I can thank several friends, but mostly Marti Ann and Sally. They hauled me to the Southern Festival of Books many years and we did aerobics together twice a week. It was on the way to an aerobics workshop crossing the bridge from TN into Arkansas that I learned the meaning of the word serendipity as the fireworks went off over our heads. I saw a lot of "famous" people there including Clyde, Lewis G and Larry Brown, god rest his soul. I bought a book by Lewis Nordan but never saw him and inhaled it in no time. And then some dog or another got a'hold of it and there you go.
I think the turning point in my vocation as a writer was reading Rick Bragg's "All Over but the Shouting" and being able to relate with growing up in the south of our sixties. Integration happened when I was in fifth grade and I'll never forget the guy's name...Vernell. Mrs. Nixon told him to get that pencil out from behind his ear, obviously pissed that this whole thing was happening in her classroom. That was at Alice Thurmond elementary where my longtime friend Oscar was principal. He's the one that told mama I was above average IQ. Sometimes I wonder if I wasted all that on this one horse depressed existence that is my current life. Sugardaddies and Blogfairies are a nice dream but they don't exist except in your imagination.
Hey..if I write the book I can have both.
Love ya poops!
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