Everything that I write is based more or less on experiences that I've had or shared with other people. I don't always remember the exact details but others do and never hesitate to point out that it wasn't as I remembered it. There was one guy who took total glee in reminding me that I got a date or name wrong when in fact I'm the writer and so I can make it what I remember. And sometimes I remember but the names get changed to protect the (not always) innocent. Occasionally I will embellish a bit but usually the basic premise of the story is true. Rather than testing my wings with fiction, I prefer to drill down my own life experiences to a different level and pitch it out there. It works pretty well unless I'm having a pity party but I try not to do that very often. Nowadays, I expect the worst and am pleasantly surprised when there's not a flat tire or broken bone to deal with.
My aunt Virginia who died last week was told a lot of different things by doctors who were tending to her but in fact, she died before there was a real cause of the whole problem identified. This formerly vibrant energetic woman went down quick and at this point it's all academic as far as what the cause was. Unless it was Ebola? That really isn't significant because they all get called "cardiac arrest" in the end. She had lived a long and active life and was the only member of her immediate family living except for Daddy and Kaffy Rose. Like the preacher said, she's dancing with them all right now and having a ball.
Every time I talk to my mother now it turns into a polite question and answer session about what's new occasionally veering off onto some forgotten piece of history. I know all the stories, especially the one about the old Chevy with no brakes that they drove on the back streets of Martin to avoid wrecks. There's the one about the older brother who set fire to a cotton trailer with the baby boy up in there playing. Nobody knows that stuff but us and we probably all have different takes on the reality. I think it's kinda' funny myself! I'm glad Harold didn't burn up even though he grew to become a thorn in my teenage side. I'd be all courting some guy on the couch and he would be hiding behind it listening. He also picked the lock to my bedroom door with a bobby pin just to see me go off.
I have two days off which is a luxury that I took for granted when it came regularly. At an older age I'm now paying for working reduced hours as a younger woman. Something is bad wrong with that math, if you know what I mean. It is, however, helping me to dig out of the seemingly endless pit of debt that has plagued this joint for eons...well, ever since the divorce 13 years ago. It began after 9/11 and has grown into something that is delicately in the balance as the politics of the world rage on. Once again may I remind you that 1)Islam is a peaceful religion at heart and 2)Jihadists are the Phelps equivalent of international terrorism. Move on to something that we can change.
It got close to 25 today which I never thought of as warm but compared to 5 it's pretty balmy. The house is minimally warm enough to keep the pipes from freezing but I almost messed up and let the whole deal turn into an ice cube by leaving the hose attached to the outside hydrant. Hey..I've been busy and besides I'm a girl. The Camry still smells like gas inside which probably means a problem with the fuel line. I've been warned that it's a fire waiting to happen so I can only hope somebody with a phone is nearby to capture the moment. Imagine if Stephanie Plum had all the pics of HER blown up cars. The tires are decent (unlike the Cadi sitting on 3) but there are no door handles on the outside of the front and just one hubcap. I should probably just take that off so they all match.
As for all you control freaks out there...chill out and have some fun ^j^
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