I can't believe it's almost over. I knew that 2019 was going to be a good one, but I had no idea it would go out with such a bang. Y'all. Walking The Wrong Way Home has sold over 300 copies since the publishing date of 11-26th. I had my first book event at Story... Continue Reading →
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.
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?"
"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.
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... Continue Reading →
I met a man who I'll never forget. He stopped me in the hallway to tell me how scared he was. He hated coming in, hated the word cardiology, hated the word echo. Hated my scrubs. He was over six feet of raw emotions carrying his new baby. I explained the test in the hallway... Continue Reading →