author of literary fiction with a southern drawl
Several people back in Tennessee have asked to read the story. It’s a very personal story, but after my friend told me she was approached by two women at her bridge club who wanted her to thank me for sharing, I decided to put it here. The theme was Hope for The Holidays. Here’s my story –
Our lives are a puzzle - made of so many different, odd shaped pieces. Those weird ones with the sharp angles, dark red or deep blue, that look more like someone else's bad dream than a piece of your puzzle.
When I was twelve or so, she is the person that realized I had a little bit of talent and no outlet – except for boys – and bought me my first set of paintbrushes and oil paints. I couldn’t find enough things to paint – nothing was safe, I painted EVERYTHING – even glass. She realized I needed more things to keep me busy – to keep me out of my mama’s hair and out of trouble – so she taught me Sherinschniette
My parents both had their own demons to deal with while raising four kids. I was always a daddy's girl and it took me thirty years to understand a lot of things, but I think I found the answers I needed. In my earlier blog, I shared some of my best memories. I touched on [...]
This man built treehouses and death-defying water slides. Once he took me, my sister and little brother out in the woods and told us to find all the moss we could. He wouldn't tell us why, just gave us buckets to fill. Later he took the double-decker wire mesh tool rack off of his work [...]
This week’s blog is dedicated to Chad Wilkerson. I met Chad at Suzi’s, the coffee shop inside the hospital where I used to work. I knew the second I saw him he was an interesting guy. I never minded waiting in line when Chad was working because he is so fun to watch interact with [...]