Category Archives: Random Thoughts
Yes, literally. In an effort, I suppose, to stay true to my life’s overall theme, my knees are weird. FYI, my knees have ALWAYS hurt. When I was a teenager running bleachers during basketball conditioning I thought it was normal– that everyone’s knees were aching. A trip to the ortho in my 30′s when I was playing tons of team tennis and my knees were killing me revealed that no, not so much. I’m just consistently weird. After x-raying my knees and studying the film, the doc seemed to find it genuinely amazing that I could even walk. He pointed out the uniquely non-simpatico parts of my oddly shaped joint and asked incredulously, “Are you in pain?!” I considered directing his attention to the appropriate blank on the form I had completed while vacationing that morning in his luxurious waiting room (not) with his up to date magazines. (We landed on the moon! Who knew?!) Instead, because I have noticed that not everyone on the planet gets my equally weird humor, I explained that I thought it was normal. That would be when he joined an increasingly large choir and their same tired old refrain to let me know I was not–normal, which brings me to the point of this post I am writing in my IPhone while I’m walking because, well, I don’t know. Don’t distract me. Hear ye, hear ye: Having reached the delicious age of fifty I may be actually showing signs of maturity. Stop, that! I have evidence! I’m through acting like my knees don’t hurt. I asked God for new ones and the answer seems to be, “I’d rather you appreciate the ones you have.” I’m now doing way less jogging and way more walking. Granted, I COULD still jog all the time because I have discovered that my interesting knees DO NOT HURT ONE LITTLE BIT when I jog backwards. (What? The experiment just occured to me one day.) That said, my darling husband does have to live in this town and the poor fellow can only be expected to endure so much ribbing about me. “Phil, I saw Shellie jogging this morning. Backwards.” What’s more, Dixie Belle acts like she doesn’t know me when I do it. So, I am raising the flag on this one. No more backwards jogging. Unless I drive out to the turn roads on the farm. Hugs, Shellie ~And we have now made it back to the dock. Here’s a pic of my loyal friend now. I can’t imagine why she won’t look at the camera…
Facebook can be a drain on your time…if you let it. Sometimes Facebook seems more like Drama Book and that can drive me crazy…if I let it. Like so many other things in life, Facebook will be what you let it be. I’ve been offline since Friday afternoon around two o’clock when my laptop decided to eat my files and drift into a coma with neither a burp or thank you. I’ve been using my limited tech skills on it without success until I can get to the computer store Monday. It remains to be seen whether anything in it will be salvageable or not. Sigh. Thankfully, the last manuscript had been backed up AND sent to my editor. Can you say HALLELUJAH?! Sadly, however, included in the missing files would be what I had written this past week, the content that I need to tape Monday morning and send to my affiliates for another week’s worth of radio segments. Sigh. With time a-wasting, I’ve just finished reaching into the All Things Southern archives (via my desktop) to snare some words for that taping. Among other things, I found a great old story I told once about a belle named Mama Ruth and her friend, John Henry. That led me to Facebook to look up my friend who originally told me the story, so we could laugh about it…again. That’s the best thing about a good story, you know? It just gets better in the retelling. What I found on John’s Facebook wall was a post about his latest health struggle. I didn’t realize things were so difficult for him right now, but I was encouraged to see that John was responding to it with his customary good humor. I’m glad I found that status update so I can pray for him. Thank you, Facebook. While there, I also discovered that another good friend lost her sister to cancer yesterday afternoon. Charlotte knew the day was coming, we all did, but I didn’t know her baby sis had slipped into Father’s arms yesterday afternoon. No doubt, our mutual friends thought I already knew. I didn’t, but I needed to. Thank you, Facebook. And yet, Facebook had more than bad news waiting for me. Along with some sweet messages from friends and readers, I also found some laughs and inspiration, and in today’s broken world, don’t we all need more of those? Go ahead on, Facebook. I got your back. Hugs, Shellie What do you think about Facebook?
Yes, I know “they” say you shouldn’t blog more than once a day and I’ve already blabbed blogged once today. The thing is, I thought y’all might need some humor relief right about now. Towards that end, here’s an excerpt from Sue Ellen’s Girl Ain’t Fat, She Just Weighs Heavy! I hope you enjoy~ Hazed by the Electoral College One can only imagine why the subject of bribes and ludicrous spending would remind me of the way we go about electing a president in this country, but I’m glad it did. There’s something else that I think deserves another look. And while I have no desire to cause a stink with those outside our region, I’d like to register a legitimate complaint. On behalf of my fellow southerners, I’d like it to be known that “we the people” below the Mason Dixon have our lips run out about the whole presidential primary thing. It was THE topic of conversation at the recent holiday parties. Paulette said she was sick and tired of hearing ‘bout y’alls electoral college. And Bubba said he doesn’t know where your fancy smancy school is even located, but y’all haven’t ever been to a bowl game that he knows of, and besides if you’re not in the SEC you don’t matter no-how. Granted, some of us are much clearer on the details of the electoral system than others, but still, it’d be right nice of y’all to at least pretend that we matter. It’s bad enough when y’all start choosing your primary dates. Scheduling and rescheduling your parties to try and be the first one out of the blocks. Shame on you! Y’all remind me of a bunch of southern brides-to-be trying to grab the most coveted weekend of the spring bridal season. Please. I’ve seen better manners at a half-price sale. But it just flat out rubs salt in the wound when y’all start harping about how it’ll all be over after the first three or maybe four primaries, as if none of the other states exist. Excuse us! We do have a dog in the fight, too, you know. I’d like to propose a new system. I say the primaries should rotate and start in a different region every election cycle. Now, that would be much fairer. But should that not set well with y’all I have another idea (and this is sheer genius if I have to say so myself): we could play Spoons to decide who goes first. Oh, yeah, that’d be just as civil and a lot more fun. FYI for the uninitiated, Spoons is a regional card game we Southerners like to play. It’s similar to musical chairs only bloodier. Why, Mama won’t even let us, her immediate family, play Spoons on her dining room table since… well, never mind. Look here, y’all send a few of your delegates down here to play a few of our delegates and we’ll work out the details. Just don’t send any pansies. Bubba’s got his…
The beauty of last night’s blue moon lingers… This post is dedicated to a little girl named Jessica Ann, to the lovely young wife and mother she has become, and to all the times we sang the moon song together. I see the moon, the moon sees me, the moon sees the one I long to see. So, God bless the moon, and God bless me, and God bless the one I long to see. Hugs, Shellie
