Small Town Charm And Chicken Feet

For the past several months I have been in what I will call "Small Town USA",  working on some family  owned rental houses.  The town is much smaller than the one that I live in and I have noticed a few "quaint" differences.

There is small town charm here in the form of  smiles and waves from strangers.  The people all seem to know and look out for each other.  I know this because I have actually walked into a store and before I even uttered a word, have the clerk say  "Y'all ain't from around here are you?".

I have also noticed that there are some "cultural" differences.  The other day I was in the local grocery store and came upon one such difference as I perused the meat counter.  I was strolling along and there it was.
Nestled right among the chicken...I saw it.....there was a moment of processing......I glanced again...it registered... and then ...Total internal freak out,  accompanied by an extreme case of nausea!!

There were Chicken feet packed and labeled to be sold...literal chicken feet...cut off , claws included and all splayed out ...I wanted to run, but suddenly I realized I needed to document this or no one would ever believe me.    I reached into my purse and grabbed my iPhone.  My proof was going to be in the form of photographic evidence.  I took a quick snapshot and fled the store.

I left for two reasons.   The first one was that I had a huge fear that if I stayed  the nausea would progress into a more physical reaction...and two because I needed to sit down and try to ascertain the purpose behind what I had just seen..

Moments later I was sitting in my car thinking what in the world would anyone in their right mind do with those things?  Surely to God no one ingests them. This was followed by a random thought.... Lord if they cut off the feet of chickens back behind that meat counter what else goes on???

This thought only served to increase my nausea and so I redirected my thinking back to trying to discover the purpose behind them being there. After already deciding that there couldn't possibly be a human being that would attempt their consumption, it suddenly came to me.

There must be people in this town that think they are witches or warlocks...They use them for spell casting. You know, like fire up your cauldron...add garlic cloves, eye of newt, and Chicken feet...stir and cackle...

I had the entire scene playing in my mind, incantation included...After calming down and giving this more thought than it probably deserved, Quite frankly, past spell casting, I've got nothing...

I think I just may have to go back into that store and ask to speak to the manager.  I mean someone has to ask this man what makes him believe for one second that it is acceptable to package these horrific looking things and allow them to reside in the meat counter along side the other meats being sold. I, for one, need some clarification.

Yes...that's what I need to do...I'll just march right on up to the customer service counter and go all Ding Ding Ding on the little bell there. I will begin by asking him if he's lost his mind.  When that renders him speechless, and I'm sure it will, I'll just let him know that I'm pretty sure there is some form of a health law that prohibits the cohabitation of food fit for consumption and this whole animal feet thing that he's got going back in the meat department.

The chance that he will insist that he has the legal right to continue to sell them isn't lost on me and so I have a solution for that too.  I'm going to strongly suggest that he have some human decency and place a sign on the meat counter stating that anyone desiring animal parts, not fit for consumption should speak with him, as they are available upon request...

Don't get me wrong.  I can certainly appreciate many of the small town attributes, but Seriously people...Chicken feet???  There must be a law....

Lipstick/Gloss...A Personal Discovery

The other day, I picked my purse up, and realized it's weight was akin to a ton of bricks. I stopped then and there, and decided I had to go through it and investigate the situation.

I began removing things and putting the like items together. As I was doing this I realized that every other item that I took out was either a tube of lipstick or lip gloss. At first this wasn't all that alarming to me because I knew I had a several tubes...I love to gloss up.

Anyway, as I continued to work, the pile of lip gloss and lip stick grew and grew....I began to fear at that point that I may possibly have an addiction in the form of lip wear...

When I had completed the process I looked around at the piles of items. There were two bottles of perfume, glasses, (sun and reading), there were keys, a wallet, and a cosmetic bag....and there was the lipstick/gloss collection...Oh yes..without a doubt it was a collection...

The pile of lipstick/gloss was so large that I just had to count them. As the number grew I had to face the truth. The potential for addiction was no longer a possibility. It was a harsh reality. Not counting what was in my cosmetic bag, I had 37 lipsticks/glosses in my purse. I was seriously stunned. I thought.. Oh Snap!! There are 37!! Really?? Clearly had uncovered the weight issue my purse had.

Now I know that I am not the only addict of this sort and others like me might even understand an excess of lip wear, but 37???

The, number, albeit large, is not the only problem with this "collection". The next step for me was to take inventory. Before inventory, I thought that I might be able to justify the situation by saying that everyone needed a variety of lipstick/gloss in their purse because you never know what color you might need.

Post inventory I realized that I had a variety alright. There was, Mac, Clinique, Loreal, Chanel, Bobbi Brown, Revlon, and the list goes on.. Let me just say the brand name was where the variety factor stopped cold. My inventory revealed that of the 37 one was a clear lip plumper, which no woman should be without, another was a Red lipstick for occasions when I happen to have my sassy pants on, and the remaining 35 were each and everyone Nude in color.

At this point I had to ask myself if I had some deep seeded fear that there will be a massive run on Nude lipstick/gloss and it will no longer be available?

During the time that I sat there trying to wrap my mind around the fact that I had unearthed an addiction that I was completely oblivious to, I remembered something that had happened just a few short weeks earlier.

It was a week before Christmas, and my Mama called me. She said "Arlene, I have just about finished buying your Christmas presents, but I wanted to get you something else. Is there anything you can think of that you want?"

I answered, of course, with Mama don't get me anything else. You shouldn't have gotten me anything at all. Then in true Mama form, she responded with "I'm buying you something else so you might as well tell me what you want."

Well, you'll never guess what I said next..

My response? "Okay Mama. Just get me some "Nude" lip gloss from the Clinique counter....I mean crack up!! Thank God my Mama listened to me, because Lord only knows what I would have done if she hadn't. Y'all know I needed one more so that it could dwell in my purse among the other 35 I already had.

This recollection was just so ridiculous that not only did I laugh at myself, I had to share it.

Now, I want you all to know, so that you can sleep better tonight, I did scale back the number that made it back into my purse. I think it now hovers somewhere around the 25 mark...

I know you are thinking that the number could have been lower, but I've already explained that the clear lip plumper and the red lipstick are a must....I mean you always want your lips to be all plumped up and Sassy can come on when you least expect it...

That being said..Y'all can see that as far as elimination goes, I have done the best that I can.....

She Got Pneumonia... Now I'm A Transformer

My twin sister was admitted to the hospital recently with pneumonia and the flu. She was placed in the Critical Care Unit due to her extremely low oxygen level and the severity of the pneumonia. Needless to say, I spent the week afraid and worried, but now that she is home I have a story to tell. I ask her for permission first, of course, and since our family handles everything with humor, she granted it, and so here goes....

I was sitting in my sister's hospital room with her, while she slept. I had been so worried about her that the room felt heavy with silence. Just as my thoughts were getting serious she opened her eyes and looked at me and she said "Go and get us some passes.". I said what? She said "Go and get us some passes.".

I paused and thought, she is not clear of mind, and then I decided to just play along, so as not to upset her. I responded with What passes? She said "The ones like Mallory (our niece) got us the other night when she was here. We can leave and come back. She got three of them.".

At that point, I leaned up on the edge of my chair and I said...well, what do they look like? She said "like Army I.D. things, you know....I said Dog tags?....She said "Yes.", then in a low and conspiratorial voice she said "and they are silver and gold. Now go and get us some.".

I remained on the edge of my seat and I leaned forward and I said let me ask you something. She said "What?". I said where did y'all go? In a tone that implied there was no place else in the world they could have gone, she said "We went to get smoothies.".

Now while I was mulling all of this over she looked at me in a most serious manor and said "Did you know we are transformers?". I said What? She repeated "Did you know we are transformers?". I said No. No I did not. She said "Well, we are, and I'm the Blue one, and Mallory is the yellow one, like her truck. I said well I hope I'm pink, because I love pink and she said "Oh, you are." I said awesome! She said mother is a purple one. I said good because that's mother's favorite color.

She said "We transform when we are out with our passes.". I said we do? She said "Yes, we do. You should have seen the people in the smoothie shop step back when we came in. Transformers are intimidating, but we are nice ones." I said good I like nice and I know they are.

Then I said, but we've got a problem. She said "what's that?". I said I have absolutely no idea how to transform.
She said "Girl, all you've gotta do is hit the street and you transform. It's amazing." I said the only thing I could think of ...Awesome!

She dozed off again, at that point, and I sat there and thought, it can't be lack of oxygen because she has a direct line of that going in. Next thought... Oh snap, she's lost it, and just wait until I tell mother she's a purple transformer.

Before panic could completely set in our Mother walked into the room. I told her everything about the conversation I had just had with my sister and she said I am going to speak to her Doctor about it. Later that afternoon when the Doctor came by my mother stepped out into the hallway to speak with him. I heard her explaining that my sister was confused. His answer was "a bit of confusion is common in cases like this." Then I heard my mother, in her "Outside voice" say "a bit of confusion? She thinks she's a transformer!!" He chuckled and tried to reassure my mother that my sister would be fine.


I left that night and came back early the next morning. When I walked in the room I looked at my sister and I said Do you still think you are a transformer? She said "No. I do not." I said well let me just tell you right now that I have no intention of relinquishing my super power just because you have regained clarity, and we are getting transformer t-shirts.

She laughed and then she explained to me that the Doctor had come around and told her that he was diagnosing her with diabetes and that her confusion was due to an extremely high blood sugar level. I hugged her tight and told her that I was so grateful to hear that she hadn't completely lost it, and that I loved her dearly.

Most importantly, I silently thanked God for the healing of my sister, and for the gift of standing in that room with her that day, our birthday. It was the best present that I've ever gotten. She is such a huge part of my heart. I am so grateful for the blessing of her in my life. I have had more than one reminder this year to never take for granted the moments that you get to spend with those that you love. Cherish them...I know I do...

P.S. Sister, I'm still looking for those passes, and when I find them...we're gettin' our pink and blue on... I want a smoothie...I love you!!

Pregnancy..Keep Your Eye On The Prize

Let me start out by saying that I have two children. I had my oldest, a daughter, 9 days before I turned 21 years old. I was young and totally in shape when I found out that I was "in the family way". Let me just say that the totally in shape part disappeared just about as fast as the plus sign appeared on the stick declaring my condition.

The nausea set in immediately and before I knew it there were splotches all over my face from being physically ill along with a rash that appeared suddenly. The doctor informed me, with nonchalance, that the rash was just something that happened to some people during pregnancy. Well, lucky me!

As the months past I developed many other issues such as swollen feet and hands. My doctor was also quick to inform me that hair dye was out of the question and so my roots began to show...Nice. I only wish someone had heard the word Ombre in regards to a hair style back then, because by my ninth month I would have been looking good..

I can also tell you that the wardrobe choices for pregnant women in the 80's and early 90's were seriously lacking. These clothes were so bad that in about the seventh month of my pregnancy I decided to burn all of them upon the delivery of my baby.

During my pregnancy with my son I experienced all of these same wonderful changes although this time I was much more mentally prepared for them, and I did purchase a pair of maternity overalls, a denim jacket, large t-shirts, and some Joker themed converse tennis shoes just to shake things up. I wasn't going to end this pregnancy with a bonfire.

Before the delivery of each baby I no longer even had the capability to tie my own shoes. I needed three pillows to prop up on when I slept just to maintain the ability to breathe, and I waddled like a duck.

I have to say that I was a bit surprised at the quick deterioration of my appearance the first time, since I had heard all of my life that pregnant women were beautiful. I was young and naïve.

I was expecting miracles to take place. I kept looking for that glow, a special sparkle to appear in my eyes, and to be honest I was a bit excited at the prospect of finally having a bra size to be proud of.

I did develop the need for a larger bra, but it really wasn't all that impressive considering my stomach stuck out so much further than my chest.

Just when I thought that I had experienced all of the changes I could stand there was a bonus. I became prone to crying jags that came on suddenly and for no apparent reason. These little "episodes" reddened my face even more. Needless to say, they didn't do a thing to improve my new look. Like I said "Bonus" and I now know that bonuses during pregnancies may vary by individual and with each pregnancy.

I still today fail to understand why other women shared every pregnancy story they had ever heard with me, when they saw that I was expecting. So many women shared with me that I lost count. My favorites were the ones that told me absolute horror stories about labor and delivery. I mean really??? Was that necessary. I'm a smart woman. One of my very first thoughts, when I found out that I was pregnant, was "There's only one way out of this and I am not going to like it".

When labor finally started with my first child, I thought, wow this isn't bad at all. I can totally handle this. I showered, dried and rolled my hair (it was the early 80's big hair was a must), put my makeup on, and painted my nails red. I grabbed my lip gloss for later reapplications and declared myself ready to head to the hospital.

Talk about delusional. Those labor pains intensified by the minute after that, and I thought I was going to die.

I was diagnosed with toxemia and had to have an emergency C-section. They gave me some little nail polish and makeup remover wipes and told me to clean the polish off my nails and the makeup off my face, because I couldn't wear it in the operating room. Well within seconds I had raccoon eyes and that red nail polish was everywhere. It was smeared all over my nails and my fingers...and I had gone from thinking appearance was everything to thinking I'm dying who gives a fat rat's rear end just cut me.

I experienced a very difficult miscarriage about 3 years after my daughter was born, and then My next baby, a son, was delivered during a scheduled C-section, a much better gig if you can get it.

There are many discomforts that come with pregnancy, several of which, I failed to mention here, but each and every one of them are worth it!!

If you are in "the family way" my advice to you is not coco butter for stretch marks or peppermint for nausea...it's simply this:

Keep your eye on the prize....and for God's sake don't ask any questions about how resilient your body will be after delivery, or if stretch marks ever completely disappear...the answers to those questions are not important sugar...No ma'am...Not at all.

You are going to look beautiful after the delivery...absolutely beautiful...eye on the prize girl..\eye on the prize.....

Rowdy On River Street

Awhile back I mentioned to one of my best friends that I had been dying to get to the beach so that I could see and hear the ocean. She, being her usual sweet self, surprised another friend of ours and myself, a short while later, with a weekend trip to Savannah and Tybee Island. The three of us always hung together, in fact one of our husbands nicknamed us "The Pearl Girls" because we all love to be together and love ourselves some pearls. We have been friends for years so I knew that we were going to have a great time.


We left bright and early and before long we were in Savannah checking into our hotel. My friend had booked us into a very nice hotel and our room overlooked River Street. The view was wonderful. We got settled into the room and then decided to change our clothes and head over to Tybee Island so that I could get my toes in the sand.


Everything was going along smoothly. We were on the beach mashing our faces together and taking pictures of ourselves with our cell phones, laughing and writing our names in the sand, and then one of my friends mentioned casually that she would like to have a drink with alcohol content. Then my second friend pipes up and says if we go to a bar and get started drinking this early we'll spend a fortune.


Now I had been quiet up until that point and then I had to speak up. I said: "I have a confession." They looked at me and said in unison: "What is it?". I said "I have some liquor in my suitcase. Actually I have a very large bottle of Crown Royal, a two liter bottle of diet Coke and some glasses." I said that I knew I needed to relax and so I had come prepared with some tangible aids to help me do so.


Needless to say, they were immediately on board and we could not get back to our hotel room fast enough. Upon our arrival I made us all a drink and we made haste to drink those, and then began on refills. One of my friends opted to stop at one, but the other knocked back a glass of straight Crown before she chose to decline another drink. Myself? Well lets just say I kept it steady. I had a few drinks while I got ready to go out for the evening.


Go out? Oh yes, we made a beeline for River Street. First stop? If you guessed a bar, you would be correct. There it was. almost as soon as we stepped outside our hotel... Wet Willie's. A virtual slushy smorgasborg of frozen drinks for adults. One of my friends decided to stick with her decision not to have any more drinks, other than the one she had drank back in the room. My other friend and myself had already had just enough Crown Royal to feel confident that more alcohol would only serve to improve our evening.

My drinking buddy decided that there were to many drinks to choose from so she said for me to pick one for us. Well that wasn't a problem. I marched myself right up to the bar and ordered two drinks, appropriately named "Call Me A Cab". We drank those and nothing would do me but to decide that I needed one more of the same.


When I had secured my second Call Me A Cab, I walked over to the the policeman at the door, and he assured me that I could walk right out the door with it. This prompted me to suggest to my friends that we take ourselves outside and sit on a bench in front of the river and watch the boats go by.

There we were relaxing and talking, and of course, I was sipping my drink. Well just about the time that I had sipped it right on down to the bottom one of my friends suggested that we walk to Outback Steakhouse and eat dinner.

It was about 8:00 p.m. at the time, so that seemed like a fine idea, until...I stood up. Yes as you may have guessed when I stood up I experienced a bit of difficulty with my equilibrium. Before attempting to put one foot in front of the other one, I asked my friend where Outback was. She said (as she pointed her finger in the general direction) "It's that red sign right over there.". I responded with another question. "The first red sign or the second one?".

My friend looked at me very seriously and said "There is only one red sign.". I, having a small bit of common sense remaining, looked back at her and said "Okay...in that case, there is a policeman standing right across from me and so I'm going to need the two of you to flank me on either side, or I'm going to jail for public drunk, and it's as simple as that. You are going to have to do it because, I simply cannot phone home and inform the Lieutenant that I'm going to need bail money. They cracked up, but knew that I was telling the truth.

They did as I asked and we managed to get by the policeman, inside Outback , and were seated without incident. I remember eating dinner through what seemed like a very blissful, yet dense, fog and then we headed back to our room.

After putting my gown on, and laying myself across one of the beds I heard my friend complaining that the air conditioner had a remote control that was so complicated she couldn't figure out how to use it.

Not a problem. I picked up the phone and I explained to the front desk person that we needed assistance in our room. She assured me that she would send someone right up. Well she did, and I was in the I can't worry about my wardrobe mode by this point, and so I couldn't even manage to process that I needed a robe on before he arrived.

My friend allowed the man into the room without even suggesting to me that I should at least get under the covers. The man explained the operation of said remote control and then glanced over at me laying across the bed and said "What are you doing in bed so early? You should be out having a good time. Did you know that there is a Martini bar on the rooftop?".

I looked up at him like he had a third eye. Finally I spoke. "I said Sir, do I look like I need a martini? That is my problem now. I have already had far to much to drink. In fact, I am inebriated, but thank you!!

My friends lost it. They found my little reply very humorous. I know, because they reminded me the next morning when I felt so bad that I needed my sunglasses just to open the refrigerator for a bottle of water for my parched throat. "Cotton Mouth" I believe I've heard it called.

I had a wonderful weekend with the "Pearl Girls", hangover and all. I rarely drink but I really needed to be worry free for a change, and Only true friends stick by you when you are that "relaxed". About three months after that trip we lost one of our Pearls. The one who surprised us with the trip. These memories make me smile now and I treasure our time together! She, along with my other friend, protected me that weekend so that I could totally let go.....I love and miss her dearly. Cherish your friends and have fun!! Life is short...

Renovating To Sell....A Story Of Survival

I have spent the past few months renovating/updating a house that my mother in law had previously been renting out. All of this with the goal in mind of putting it on the market.

The first step was to walk through the house and Make an overall assessment of what would need to be done. As I began my journey though the house I realized it was actually a tour through wreckage and disaster. Not only was the house absolutely filthy, but the renters had stolen everything that they possibly could. I had an initial reaction...it was Let us pray....

Since the house had been rented to people who had no belief in cleanliness being next to Godliness, and who also seemed to lack all moral and ethical standards, I knew that cleaning and replacing all of the stolen items alone was going to be a huge undertaking. Not to mention killing all of the spiders and creepy crawlers that had taken up residence, some of which I felt I could saddle up and possibly ride...

When I say that things were stolen from the home, I mean these people went all Jesse James during their departure. They stole the vent covers from the floor in every room, the shower heads, and even the knobs from the bathroom cabinets...Seriously??? Who does that?

As far as the unclean accusation goes let me just say that I didn't see any hope of getting the place clean even if I had a fireman's hose filled with hot water and Twenty Mule Team Borax...

I knew I needed a plan, because I had no idea where to even begin. I tried to go all bibidi bobidi boo on the situation and then I thought...wrong movie. I didn't need glass slippers, I needed a mop and a broom that knew how to independently get busy. So I started yelling the names of the three fairies from sleeping beauty and still nothing...Disney be damned, I was going to have to glove up...

I left the house and made a reentry armed with more cleaning supplies than Hazel could use in a year. I literally had to suit up. Gloves, a mask, clothes that could be thrown away, a stack of lawn sized trash bags, and a few gallons of bleach and I was ready to go. Just let me say before I go any further that as far as fashion statements go, this was not a good look. I also have to add that other peoples dirt freaks me completely out...

I began by picking up the trash and then I thought I'd sweep and mop the floors. First I mopped all of the hardwood floors several times, and then I moved on to the linoleum in the kitchen. I mopped that floor five times with a brand new mop, then I had to trash it, and go and purchase another one...after mopping it about three more times I realized that I would have had better luck if I'd used a scraper. Needless to say a new kitchen floor had to be purchased.

I cleaned the bathrooms next. This of course included toilet seat replacement and enough bleach in the bathtubs to give me chemical pneumonia.

The carpet that was in all three bedrooms belonged on the street, so this was the next thing that was addressed. This can easily be explained by saying that people who don't clean up after themselves certainly don't clean up after their dogs. After ripping up all of the old carpet The next step was a trip to the flooring store. Carpet and Kitchen flooring was picked out, and then I was told that they would be out to put the carpet down after all of the painting had been done....Excuse me??? I had to walk on concrete floors for at least two weeks?? I also had to sleep in one of those bedrooms...It seemed to me, upon hearing this that the ripping up of the old carpet had been done a little prematurely...

During all of this time I had painted what seemed like EVERYTHING in the house, including the real kicker for me, the kitchen cabinets. I had painted so much that I was head to toe in paint of all shades....I looked like a walking Valspar sampler.

The thought of more painting and the concrete floor thing had me ready to turn myself in as crazy. I'm not a complete princess but at this point there were definitely a few tears. I was working myself sick and covered in paint every day of what now had become my life..a few times I'm pretty sure I developed a glistening on my skin that I could call sweat, if I wanted to use vulgar words. At one point I looked down at myself and thought...Dear God t's like Alice In Wonderland .I fell in a hole and landed in something akin to the twilight zone, and I am never going to get my life back.. I'm just saying I haven't had my pearls on in months...There ought to be a law...

I am happy to say that the worst is over as far as manual labor goes, the house is staged, and within a weeks should be on the market...

Am I anxious for it to sell??? Well, I have said that I was going to stagger to the top of the hill out front and wear a sandwich board with the spects listed on it, while parading myself back and forth until I have a taker.....I'll probably even wear my pearls....

Music and Memory Lane

I grew up listening to all genres of music. I listened to rhythm and blues, and pop/rock with my Mama, classic country with my Daddy, and gospel music with my entire family as we attended church together. I had no idea as I was listening to those songs when I was a little girl that later in my life they would take me back to days gone by, but somewhere between my teenage years and adulthood I became aware that indeed they do.

When I hear certain songs my memories are set to music and play in my mind so vividly that all I have to do is close my eyes and I see and feel those moments as if I were there again. I hear a Credence Clearwater Revival song and I am 8 years old, riding in the car with my Mama. It's springtime and the window is down, I am singing along, wide open, my long curly hair is blowing in my face and looking as wild as an untamed lions mane.

I hear Merle Haggard, Johnny Cash or Hank Williams, and my Daddy is at the kitchen counter pouring himself a cup of coffee on a Saturday morning as he softly sings Okie From Muskogee, I Walk The Line, or Your Cheatin' Heart.

Any old time gospel hymn I hear sends me back to Spring Street Baptist Church in Marietta, Georgia where I am, of course, wearing a frilly dress, complete with crinoline, patent leather shoes, and gloves. I am standing from my pew and singing along with the adults as I fan myself to alleviate some of the heat and humidity that crept in during the southern summer.

Bob Seger, The Eagles, or Donna Summer come on the radio and it's 1980, I am a senior in high school, and I haven't a care in the world. I just know that life is amazing. I have my big hair with lots of hair spray and lip gloss working for me. My jeans are so tight breathing is stressful on the seams, and I'm loving life.

A Prince song, some Morris Day and The Time, Atomic Dog, or Planet Rock and I am at the Limelight in Atlanta, Georgia on a Saturday night. I have climbed through a whole in the side of a staircase and arrived on the top of a speaker where I am dancing  in five inch heels, oh yes... I was getting it done..

Billy Idol's Nice Day For A White Wedding... It's 1983 and I am getting married and my daughter is on the horizon.

In The Garden, Amazing Grace, or Precious Memories and I am taken back to funerals of those that I love more dearly than words can convey.

When I hear Lionel Richie's Say You, Say Me, my daughter is two years old and singing Say Me Say Me...and Billy Ray Cyrus' Achy Breaky Heart has my son back at the age of two singing his rendition while playing his little air guitar.

T. Graham Brown's I Tell It Like It Use To Be comes on and I relive my parents painful divorce and how I never wanted to speak about it to anyone who asked how they were, Some Day Lady You'll Accompany Me by Bob Seager, and I'm back dating my husband, whom I lost in 2021, and knowing now that some day it will be true again.

All of the memories of my life, happy, sad, scared, hurt, tender, loving moments are so much better when as I replay them they are set to music.

Sometimes they bring a smile to my face, and sometimes they send tears rolling down my cheeks, accompanied by an incredibly strong ache in my heart for the absence of those I love in my life and the longing to have them here with me.

Time goes by so quickly, and as it does more songs accompany more memories and I welcome that. Whether they are of the happy or painful type I find myself grateful to be taken back to them. The happy ones, because they are treasures to me, and the more painful ones, although they bring tears, are reminders of precious people who have blessed my life and others are reminders of lessons life has taught me.

Many times I play songs intentionally to be taken back to moments in my life that I cherish and other times I turn the radio on and I'm whisked back to a memory unexpectedly.

For me, memory lane set to music is the most amazing place to visit. A place where I spend moments with those I love through my memories of them.  I'm not always sure exactly where the journey into my mind will take me as the music plays, but I do know for sure that I am always grateful for the trip.