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 –
Kati is an amazing woman. Twenty years ago she was in the Peace Corps, traveling all over Africa making friends and teaching kids.
Walking in Linda's back field in a pair of faded overalls and a wad of Red Man chewing tobacco in his cheek with a determined look on his face. Focused on the divining rods in his hands, he looked like a country preacher or moonshiner, serious in his business.
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
I'm meeting with a doctor to schedule my hysterectomy. I'm nervous, but okay. The doctor is very kind and patient and I'm grateful. All of a sudden she looks up from the computer and asks, "Do you work for cardiology?"
I met a ten year old boy who has cologne but he says he keeps it in his drawer now. I took the bait. "Why do you keep it in your drawer?" Him "Well I was dating the prettiest girl in third grade until she gave me a list of books she wanted me to... Continue Reading →
At the end of the study I looked at her mom and said, "Your daughter is going to be covered in ink from under her chin to the tops of her feet by the time she's twenty."
"Kid, you're wearing me out. I'm old." "You're not old!" Disgusted look on his face. I showed him my wide streaks of gray hair to prove it.