Barely Bearing Up

I used to be a hardier person. At least that’s the story I tell myself. It’s become more difficult to believe, though, as I find myself whining about the less than balmy weather we’ve had in Tallahassee these past couple of weeks. Some days we barely climbed above 40°!

When Studly Doright, and I, along with our two kids, lived in North Dakota we went entire months without seeing temperatures above 30°F. I drove daily on icy roads, supervised playground duty in sub-zero weather with three feet of snow on the ground, and went about my business even with blustery winds gusting at fifty miles per hour. And those were the more temperate winter days! Somehow, we adapted.

Neither of us were accustomed to long term cold, having grown up in the panhandle of Texas. We knew brief periods of winter that often were replaced by spring-like weather, within a space of six hours. I can remember mornings that school was cancelled due to snow that found us playing outside sans coats by 3 pm.

I’m rambling, I know. It’s this darned cold weather to blame. I’m barely bearing up under these conditions. My feet have forgotten how to wear flip flops and will require remedial instruction once the temps begin to rise once more. That’ll most likely be next week. And, as God is my witness, we will rise again.

Workin’ It

After many months of being a domestic goddess I’m off to work again. Part of me is saying, “Woohoo” while the other part is asking, “What was I thinking?”

The toughest obstacle thus far this morning was dragging my feeble body out of bed when the 6 a.m. alarm sounded. I’d been wide awake since 4:30 either from anticipation or dread; I’m not certain.

Obstacle number two was getting dressed in something other than denim capris, a tshirt, and flip flops. I almost cried when I placed my feet in regular shoes. I’m so sorry, feet!

And instead of my normal brunch I had to eat breakfast! To ease the strain of eating something before 9 a.m. I stopped at Cinnabon and scarfed down a serving of Cinna minis with icing. My feet might hate me, but my tummy is so pleased.

Now, having arrived a full thirty minutes early for my assignment, I’m sitting in the car in front of a school in Tallahassee listening to Howard Stern and scanning the cars in the parking lot for my coworkers, none of whom I’ve met. Surely they’ll be easy to spot. We all have identical green suitcases packed with testing materials.

Wish me luck, friends. If you don’t hear from me again you’ll know I truly was allergic to work and couldn’t afford an epi pen.

Peace, people.

Sitting on the Deck in the Company of Cats

Sunday morning wake up call, a pair of paws pat my face

Up, hurry up, we need a treat and then they’re off in heated race.

Pull on favorite Sunday wear, faded sundress and flip flops,

Splash some water on my face, run a brush through my mop.

Stumblebum into the kitchen, set coffee on to brew,

Putter bleary-eyed to the place where the felines sit and mew.

By their urgency one would think they’d not eaten in days,

Their respective weights dispel that lie in unambiguous ways.

Coffee’s perked, a cup is poured, I grab my current book,

And slip outside to honeysuckle’s welcome in my sheltered nook.

Ripples slide across the lake, while a tiny lizard scampers,

My cats examine its every move in hopes that they can batter.

And I sit and sip my coffee with a splash of Irish cream,

As breezes rustle through the pines and invite sweet daydreams.

Peace, people.

Flight of the Flip Flips

Studly Doright and I just returned from a trip to Gruene, Texas, for a reunion of the Floydada High School class of 1975. 

Always on the lookout for bloggable material, I had the marvelous idea of posting photos of myself on a variety of stops en route to Texas from Tallahassee. 

I started out strongly:

Milton, FL rest stop

Unfortunately, I quickly forgot all about the idea after the second stop. I might’ve been sidetracked by the quotes on the booths. 

TA Truck Stop, Grand Bay, Alabama


Notice I was incredibly proud of my toenails. They’d been painted green to commemmorate Floydada’s team colors. 

Due to heavy rains and cooler temperatures in Gruene, Texas, not a single person got to see my toes at the event. Their loss, right?

The reunion was incredible, though, even without my toes on display.

40 Years of Looking Good

Peace, people.

Flip Flop

tried to stay the course
knuckled down and buckled up,
but life intruded.
but who can’t relate
to life’s ups, downs, and u-turns?
just those who’ve not loved.


As if flip flopping
was not a survival mode
for our battered souls.

In response to the Daily Post’s daily prompt.