The air smells late and tiresome. The way it sometimes does when you’re waiting on it to happen. It’s uncomfortable cold, but I sit with ’em on the porch. ‘Cause ain’t no bunch ought to be left on their own like this. Roy shuffles his feet and folds his hands and then lays them straight
All posts by Buffy
It’s lunch with the ladies again. Clare’s going on about the man she’s getting ready to dump and the one she’s trading him in for. “He doesn’t have Roger’s money, but with a body like that, who needs money?” Gill does. “Puhlease. A nice body never got a girl anything but a house full of
One minute I’m fine. The next, not so much. Two hours doubled over the toilet bowl, followed by fits (momma hates this word) and faints. T makes a bed of towels on the bathroom floor. Gets a cool cloth for my forehead. Feels like it weighs a ton. I try to sit up and throw
“G’s pony died.” It’s my sister. “Oh no. She ok?” “Yeah. She is. But I’m not.” “Sorry ’bout that. What happened to it?” “Not the pony. Our dogs.” “Huh?” “You know, our dogs. Yours and mine. When we were little. I was telling mom this morning about the pony and how glad I am that
Mawsie’s house was on a hill. When she was old and I was young. After she died someone sat a bear on her porch. They killed it and stuffed it and left it there, because it was something to do and they didn’t want it in the house. Her husband passed away some time back
I had to do my fair share of adjusting when I moved to England. I survived the culture shock and the beans for breakfast. But it was the whole “You say tomAAAto , I say tomAHto” thing that took a while. If I’m honest, it’s still taking. (Last week I asked a concierge for directions
I’m away and the blog’s on autopilot. This means reruns. Looking for feedback on that which has none. Criticism. Construction. From the novel….it’s death and dumplins…. When I was three I began gathering flowers from the mountainside; placing them into open caskets of distant cousins. I ate chicken and dumplings in parlor rooms beside dead
I wake up at 3am. My head hurts and I can’t sleep. I watch Tony Robbins sell confidence on the telly. The sun’s out by 5. Back in by 7. It’s gonna pour. I’m on my way to work and notice I have on two different socks. Why am I wearing socks? I spend the
Mother’s Day. 1984. Of course she remembers. It was the year Billy and I brought home a dead horse. Read It: You can’t make this stuff up. We were going to take it to school for ‘show and tell’. Lucky we showed it to momma first.
He tells me my hair looks funny and then ….it’s on. I want to say I hate his jacket and who looks good in orange anyway? I don’t. Instead I give him the look and ask “Why would you say that?”. “Because I love you.” How do you argue with ‘I love you’, even when
