“Two large cheese pizzas, two orders of mozzarella sticks, a large turkey grinder with extra mayo only, and two orders of fries,” I have said to the woman on the phone many times. Our chat was in perfect syncopation, so efficient.
Continue reading “Paisano’s. Day 132.”Author: Teresa Forester Adams
Hello, my friend. I am Teresa Adams. Currently, I live in Western Massachusetts, but I spent twenty years in Eastern North Carolina near Camp Lejeune and Topsail Island, so I call two places home. The beach with the warm salted air and the New England woods with crunchy brown leaves each call to me, so I answer to both.
My name is also Jack and I have just a few trades. Writing is what I do best, but I also love to play songs on my red piano, walk barefoot in the woods that surround my house, and bake sweet treats like cream puffs and crème brûlée. There’s something about opening up a soft vanilla bean and scraping out the delicacies inside. I found a knack for using old items like quilts and jars to decorate new spaces, and I can knit anything with four rightish angles.
The old me is someone who used to fight fire with the coolest group of people, and a girl who was married to a hero. I now attend Westfield State University as a non-traditional student with the most loving and talented group of professors and other English majors.
When I have a moment, I play a card game called pitch with my four sons, sit with my many chickens who all have their own names like Norma Jean, Peow, and Djin Jarin, and the doors on my Jeep will be off from May until September. It is all wonderful therapy for some difficult writing I sometimes do.
In the past year I began my memoir about my life as a war widow and committed to finishing it before summer opens her arms and buds. I will finish the book in order to clear my mind and make room for the next big venture, some freelance work, and upcoming important blog projects, which I’ll do at home.
I currently live in an old white farmhouse next to a red barn with three of my four sons. My oldest graduated from North Carolina State and lives at the beach in North Carolina. We are kept company by three German shepherds, two cats who wear tuxedos, sixteen chickens, a few mice who live in the basement, and a bearded dragon, Ringo.
Single Moms and Saws. Day 131.
As he sat in his black truck.
Pale face, white hair, dark ball cap,
he cried the stuttering kind.
Then, said to me,
Continue reading “Single Moms and Saws. Day 131.”Camping. Day 130.
“Ok, let’s plan our menu,” I have said many, many times.
“Burgers, obviously.” Roger said, “And, pancakes!”
Our camping gear is maybe the most organized part of my life with each bin in my storage shed being a home for something specific.
I’ve written about camping often, even a couple months ago, but I still have not planned a trip! What’s wrong with me?
Continue reading “Camping. Day 130.”The Best. Day 129.
“Today was the best day ever!”
“That was the best spaghetti you ever made.”
“She’s one of my best friends.”
I could go on and on with example sentences using the word best in them, but I don’t think I need to. We all use it incorrectly, don’t we?
Continue reading “The Best. Day 129.”Affordable Gutters. Day 128.
“Dad used to climb up there on a ladder and install new gutters,” I said, nodding towards the four-story beach houses.
We were driving home from Tyler’s condo on North Topsail Island in NC.
“Wow,” Baylee said. “Those are high.”
“They are. Dad wasn’t afraid of heights.”
Continue reading “Affordable Gutters. Day 128.”Cards, Anyone? Day 127.
Nana and I both held our perfectly aligned hand of cards in from of our faces, blocking our lips and nose. Our eyes found each other, and I could see hers crinkle. She was smiling.
“Gin!” Nana said.
“Darn it!” I really thought I had her.
Nana and I played gin rummy quite often, and she never let me win. I am the same way with my boys. There’s nothing wrong with a gentle, yet healthy, sense of competition.
Continue reading “Cards, Anyone? Day 127.”Feature Writing. Day 126.
People’s stories are why we know about our history. It’s not the history books, encyclopedias, and the internet that give us our information from the past, it’s from hearing what the people have to say. Sometimes they write the stories themselves, like in literature, poetry, and even hundred-year old notes found in the attic floorboards. If it’s not a first-hand account, our history can be found in the form of a feature story, and I am doing one right now!
Continue reading “Feature Writing. Day 126.”The Blue Light. Day 125.
If a creeper decides to choose my bedroom window to peek into at night, he or she will find a blue hue dancing around my room, and Michael Scott’s face may be visible on the tube. If I am awake, which is several times a night, I turn on the sitcoms and instantly feel safe and sleepy.
Continue reading “The Blue Light. Day 125.”Memoir on My Mind. Day 124.
Yes, I’m still working on my memoir! It’s finally sticking, and I am so stoked about it!
Yesterday’s venture included going over my multiple lists of notes. Some items to add to my memoir are:
Continue reading “Memoir on My Mind. Day 124.”Feeling Motivated. Day 123.
Yesterday was an important memoir day. Instead of talking about my future plans and intentions, I actually did something. I’m an awesome planner and dreamer, but following through on personal goals, not professional, can make me struggle at times.
Continue reading “Feeling Motivated. Day 123.”Organizing My Memoir. Day 122.
My memoir is a mess!
Today I will organize it so it makes more sense to me. When I opened it up yesterday, I became overwhelmed with how disorganized it was. The table of contents doesn’t align with the chapters, and I have added notes in different folders that I need to find cozy homes for.
I consider this forward progression. So, that’s what I will do today. I will begin to stop talking about it, and take action.
I’ll Never Finish this Memoir. Day 121.
My boys, with their hard work and generosity, pitched in and gifted me with a new laptop for Christmas. I was so overdue for one, but did not expect it. I am completely grateful and having a blast with this new fancy-pants device. (It has a lighted keyboard!)
Continue reading “I’ll Never Finish this Memoir. Day 121.”When a Man Calls You Mom. Day 120.
Baylee had a dental cleaning yesterday, so I waited in the room with bland, always gray chairs and a soap opera on the TV (I didn’t know they still existed) for him to come out.
I immersed myself in my phone, reading the news, when I heard a man say, “Mom.”
I kept my eyes on my phone, reading about the major traffic jam in Virginia and the newest COVID news.
Continue reading “When a Man Calls You Mom. Day 120.”Should I Look at the Body? Day 119.
Trigger warning. Boys, don’t read.
After Roger passed, I had many dark, chaotic thoughts swirling around in my head, some sensible, some not. They would hit me out of nowhere like in the cereal aisle at Food Lion or while sitting in the sun, watching the boys splash around in the pool. Most of them I didn’t want to share with the masses. Thankfully, I had people close to me who wouldn’t criticize me for declaring my anxieties about the plethora of decisions I had to make, like whether or not I should to see his body.
Continue reading “Should I Look at the Body? Day 119.”I Miss Snow. Day 118.
Why is my love for snow and cold weather such a rare one? I grew up with it, saw it occasionally during the first time I lived in North Carolina, and when I lived in Massachusetts from 2016 until 2021. I had a snow blower, shovels, and boots, and although I complained and swore at it, I miss it.
Continue reading “I Miss Snow. Day 118.”What If? Day 117.
I’ve always been a trembling what-iffer with debilitating side effects.
“Mom, can I ride my bike in the road?”
“Not right now.”
Other words I’ve said too many times:
“Don’t eat until I get home.”
Continue reading “What If? Day 117.”Then What Do You Eat on New Year’s Day? Day 116.
While cooking New Year’s dinner, which will be served at two p.m., I was thinking about what to write today, and I remembered a piece I wrote in April of 2020, so here it is with a teensy tweak:
Continue reading “Then What Do You Eat on New Year’s Day? Day 116.”Taking a Break. Day 115.
Although I enjoy seeing posts of people’s pets, kids, accomplishments, and so on, I need a break.
I find myself at times aimlessly scrolling and seeing the same posts over and over, not because I’m being deliberate about it, but because I am using it as some type of pacifier. My focus has been compromised and my attention has become fogged.
Continue reading “Taking a Break. Day 115.”Speaking of Wanda. Day 114.
It’s been about eight years since we’ve had a young pup in the house, and we all forgot just how difficult it can be. We want Wanda to have manners so we can socialize and take her places, so training her is constant. We also don’t want her to eat our stuff like pillows and clothing, because it could hurt her, and well, we love our stuff. Most importantly, we don’t want anything to happen to her, so we have to monitor her always, including even when she’s in her crate sometimes, which we call a crib.
Continue reading “Speaking of Wanda. Day 114.”Coins. Day 113.
Fives boast about their size and smooth edges and it’s hard to resist rubbing your coarse, naked thumb all the way around to feel the liquid, flawless flatness; A dime in the pocket waits for the nickel to boast about its size, then smirks with its sharp ridges and invisible heft when the five sees how the ten makes you smile more; The friends chingled and changled and clattered in your anxious palm as you presented it for a crispy, inky morning news, milky, sweetened coffee, or early morning bacon sandwich in 1975. Melted yellow American cheese and fluffy salted egg. Toasted buttered rye; The laughing quarter reaches into the lighted glass world and allows the twirl of the metal coil to drop your dusty Cheetos or left Twix or expired Necco Wafers; Pile it all in your right hand, feel the weight then let it spill spill spill over into the chipped ceramic bowl that you bought at the tag sale at your lonely neighbor’s, or maybe you used a wrinkled paper dollar to get some coins back. A drizzling Saturday morning in September. Western Massachusetts; The metal friends sit in the sticky cup holders in your uncle’s Ford pickup or the top of a father’s oak dresser. They are wrapped in old gum in her Nana’s purse and living in the dark cushions, lost from the pockets of gentlemen; And Little Miss Copper with her oneness shining in the sun. New penny old penny hiding in the dry dirt or waiting on the city sidewalk for you to pick her up so she can inject you with her bad luck like a stepped-on crack or a feline with black fur; Heads are heads and tails aren’t tails; Dimes, pennies, quarters, and nickels cheer when they fall or join their metallic friends. They can’t whisper so they don’t until they are wrapped in brown paper, colored orange, green, blue, and red. Folded ends to trap them inside and marked with a number. Bigger ones that don’t matter to them, because they’re shiny and noisy and alive as they roll and twirl and circle around in the ancient Kenmore dryer.
Crying. Day 112.
I don’t like to cry in front of people, including my kids. I’ve always been like this, and of course there are times I can’t control it like when I watch something sad on the big screen.
Continue reading “Crying. Day 112.”Wow. Day 111.
For 111 days straight, I have been writing. Sometimes it’s a simple revision, others it’s a scheduled post, but I have been practicing some form of writing, revising, or organizing my thoughts for 111 days!
Continue reading “Wow. Day 111.”The Red Pumps. Day 110.
Nana loved to shop, and our go-to places on weekend mornings were Bradlees and Caldor. She also loved to pick out clothes for me, but when I was in sixth grade, I started forming my own opinions about what I liked to wear. It was 1985, Madonna had just taken over the world, and I wanted red pumps.
Continue reading “The Red Pumps. Day 110.”Zoom. Day 109.
This year, I will have all four of my boys and even a girl with me on Christmas! Last year, due to COVID and being mid-move, we were separated, so Sammy, Max, Baylee, and I had to Zoom with Tyler in our living room. We put him on the big TV and exchanged gifts with each other while we visited. (Can you hear me now?) Yes, there were skips and our faces froze on the screen at times, but instead of complaining about it, I am so grateful to have had it.
Also, Zoom had no time limits on Christmas, so we were able to keep him in the same room for most of the day. Years ago, this would not have been possible, but because of technology and a little jump-start due to a global pandemic, we were able to see Tyler’s face, and he ours.
I will cherish the hugs and being in the same room with all the kids this year, but I will also tip my non-existent hat to whomever invented Zoom and all other meeting apps and programs. Without it last year, I’m unsure how I would have gotten through a holiday without my son. Thanks, Zoom.
Our Word of the Month. Day 108.
“Wanda!”
“Wanda, don’t do that!”
“Wanda!!!!!!”
“Wanda, come inside!”
“Wanda, you’re a good girl.”
“Where’s Wanda?”
“Wanda, do you want a treat?”
“Spit it out, Wanda!”
“Wanda!!!
“Wanda, sit!”
“Wanda, get out of the bathroom trash!”
“Wanda, come here!”
“Wanda, want to go outside?”
“Wanda, we love you.”
I Know How to Be Alone. Day 107.
“Let’s try to go to a Panther’s game,” Baylee said to us all. His nose was in his phone looking up their schedule, brow furrowed in urgency. He rattled off a few dates for us.
“I think that’s a great idea!” I said. “Text Tye and get him in on this.”
“I already did,” he said.
Continue reading “I Know How to Be Alone. Day 107.”Gifts. Day 106.
The past few days have been a lot of, “Mom, can you come with me Christmas shopping.” Although I would have rather stayed home, safe from Omicron and grumpy people, I cherish the little time I have with my kids, and there’s nothing like watching them shop for their brothers. Also, people-watching is one of my favorite activities.
Continue reading “Gifts. Day 106.”Happy Solstice. Day 105.
In my youth, I never realized how the lack of daylight negatively complemented my moods. The happy holidays ride into our year on the shoulders of the shortest days, including our beloved winter solstice, when we’re blessed with the least amount of daylight the entire year offers. Today is December 21st, the day when Earth is quite stingy with her offering of light. Lack of sunshine and hours sprinkled with darkness can lead to sadness and depression, so I am ready for tomorrow and the days that follow.
Continue reading “Happy Solstice. Day 105.”Googling Symptoms. Day 104.
My pup was spayed last week. She’s six months old and I hate to leave her in her crate all day but I understand it’s important for her to fully heal before she can be set free into the yard. We were only taking her outside to use the potty and keeping her confined otherwise. It’s been a long time since we’ve had a young one around, so I wanted to research aftercare a little more extensively than what was provided to us, just to see how long she really needed to be locked up.
Continue reading “Googling Symptoms. Day 104.”Back in My Heyday. Day 103.
“Back in my heyday, I could run five miles and want to run more,” I said to Sam.
“So you only get one heyday?” Sam said. He always knows how to expand the thought.
Continue reading “Back in My Heyday. Day 103.”Apophenia. Day 102.
While binge-watching “Stranger Things” with the kids, I learned a new word: Apophenia.
Merriam-webster.com defines it as “the tendency to perceive a connection or meaningful pattern between unrelated or random things (such as objects or ideas).”
Continue reading “Apophenia. Day 102.”Parenting Fail. Day 101.
My kids don’t know how to address a letter. Well, some of them don’t, and I take most of the responsibility, and blame the rest on technology.
“Why are you writing the town right after the street address?” I asked Max. He was addressing a package with a Christmas gift for a friend.
Continue reading “Parenting Fail. Day 101.”Happy Anniversary. Day 100.
It wasn’t supposed to snow that night, but it did, draping like a soft, white fabric over the wooden gazebo, manicured evergreens, and my pathway to Roger. Family and friends all stood in a circle in the center of the rotary in Easthampton, Massachusetts. Lights, Christmas and police, guided me to the center of the gazebo where Roger stood. He was dressed in blues and a crooked smile that protected me from the icy air that people tell me surrounded us that night. With the backdrop of a black sky and multi-colored Christmas lights, I, in my rented white gown and green plaid sneakers, walked up to my marine in his dress blues, and we were married. I wasn’t nervous. That was twenty-six years ago today.
Continue reading “Happy Anniversary. Day 100.”Amazing. Day 99.
There aren’t enough synonyms for the word amazing. A professor I had at Coastal Carolina Community College in Jacksonville, NC, told our class about a cool tool in Microsoft Word, where you can right-click on the word you want to find synonyms for, and it will offer you a list of them.
Continue reading “Amazing. Day 99.”It Really is Strange. Day 98.
E.T., Ghostbusters, and all of the Star Wars movies quickly put me at my limit of science fiction. I just never would have considered myself one who likes shows or movies with monsters, annoying timelines, and cheesy romance mixed into it all. My type of watch and read has always been more in the genre of realism, but the kids just don’t quit, and I have reasons for giving in.
Continue reading “It Really is Strange. Day 98.”Passion for Something. Day 97.
Someone was at my house this weekend and saw my red piano.
“Who plays?” she asked.
“I do,” I said. I instantly felt a little guilty.
Continue reading “Passion for Something. Day 97.”Christmas Movies. Day 96.
Christmas movies can take you on an adventure to your childhood just like the smell of oak logs burning will take you camping in your mind. There are numerous specials on TV, movies, and cartoons, but I always stick to the same ones. A Christmas Story is playing in the background as I type, and I will occasionally lift my head to watch a scene or two, like when Ralphie said a bad word while he was helping his pops. I, along with many others I’m sure, have memorized holiday movies, and can sing along to the songs, like in Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.
Continue reading “Christmas Movies. Day 96.”BLF. Day 95.
I have a pretty awesome uncle.
Still, Our Water is Cold. Day 94.
It’s been more than three weeks since we’ve had hot water in our house. We’re going through a home warranty company, 2-10 Home Buyers Warranty, so the plumber has no control in the matter. We’re also due for renewal soon, so we’ll also see about that. Let me tell you how this changes things:
Continue reading “Still, Our Water is Cold. Day 94.”Munchos and Crush. Day 93.
There is no cure
for deadline stress
like Munchos and Crush.
On my way home. A general buck.
Alone.
Private.
Like a Nail in the Head. Day 92.
Our search for a new canine family member came to an end quickly. Of course, Baylee was on it like sweetness on a honeycrisp apple, but the discovery was actually made by me and by accident on social media.
While scrolling through my Facebook feed the day after I wrote that post, I saw a female shepherd on a local rescue site. She reminded me of my David. They both show their energy in their eyes, and she was six months old so the potty training and chewing up stuff would almost be over for her, so I filled out an application.
Continue reading “Like a Nail in the Head. Day 92.”My Unanswered Prayer. Day 91.
The pregnancy test was one that turned from white to blue if the result was positive. It had been sitting in the top drawer of my dresser for weeks, and I was waiting for the perfect time to use it when I had the house to myself. The stick turned gray, which allowed me some more time to be in denial and continue living my teenage life.
Continue reading “My Unanswered Prayer. Day 91.”Random Thoughts. Day 90.
- I’ve vowed to embrace putting miles on my vehicle. It means I have a life.
- Only two of my boys were able to go Christmas tree shopping with me this year.
- I wonder how many times I put my finger on the top of my sons’ shoes and said, “Wiggle your toe.”
- Hot water isn’t a natural thing, well not a common natural thing. It’s a fairly new way to wash hair, relatively speaking.
- I should tell more people to watch Miley Cyrus sing “Nothing Else Matters” with Metallica.
- I miss hearing coyotes as much as I did in Mass.
- It’s sad that good-looking criminals are proven to be given shorter sentences than ugly ones.
- I should have studied entomology.
- We’ll all die one day and that sucks.
- I miss Northern pizza.
- Mineral rights is an unsettling real estate occurrence.
- Jack Black cracks me up.
- How long until one rebecomes a virgin?
- Once Sammy and I were in a class at college together and my phone went off playing rap music loudly and I couldn’t get it to stop.
- Laking Reaves is a beautiful name.
- I’m convinced if my boys and I did a pod cast we’d be rich.
- I missed wishing someone happy birthday on Facebook so now I don’t do it for anyone because it’s not fair.
- There’s a road nearby called Croomsbridge Road. It’s very remote, so whimsical and green.
- I miss Friday nights at Nana’s with Donnie and Marie and The Muppet Show.
- War dogs don’t get enough credit.
- Should I have let the boys choose whether or not to be circumcised?
- My dream job is to be a feature writer.
- A few decades ago, our beta fish, Pachey, passed away and we were inconsolable for an entire weekend.
- Some people call me Teri.
- Whenever I have to say, “He was killed in Iraq” it darkens the conversation with a nice stranger.
- I miss my professors.
- Sneaking out of a house is so thrilling.
- There’s this thing called “chicken math.”
- Concession stand food is underrated.
It is Time. Day 89.
There’s never the perfect time to have a baby, just like there’s never a good time to add any member to the family, including the non-human kind.
Our pups are all pushing ten years old, which means they are a little slower than they used to be. It takes nothing away from their majestic spirits, but I’d love to add a new member to the pack while the ones who live here now are spry enough to show them the ropes.
Continue reading “It is Time. Day 89.”Mean People. Day 88.
“What’s your insurance company?” the lady behind the counter at Walgreens asked.
“Um.” Max wasn’t sure. He was in line to receive his COVID booster shot.
I said, “He has Tricare. They only give us an ID and not an insurance ca . . . ”
“How old is he?!” she interrupted.
“He’s twenty,” I said.
“Then, I need to talk to him!” she said, very angrily.
Continue reading “Mean People. Day 88.”Heavenly Conceit Rant. Day 87.
Sammy and I were talking about Roger the other day, and my vanity kicked in, again.
“I hope when I get to heaven, I’m not too old for him,” I said. Roger was 36 when he died. I’m 47 now.
“I think you get to choose how you look,” said Sammy.
Continue reading “Heavenly Conceit Rant. Day 87.”Are You Itchy? Day 86.
It was 2002, and years since I was able to get my hair done. Between Roger being deployed so much and having small children, I just couldn’t find the time. I made an appointment at the JCPenney salon in the Jacksonville Mall. I was nervous.
The appointment was in the evening so Roger could stay with the boys. The mall smells of pizza and perfume found my nose as I walked into the building. I found my way to JCPenney, checked in, and waited until she called my name.
Continue reading “Are You Itchy? Day 86.”January 13, 1996. Day 85.
It was a winter Saturday and we had been at our new home, a single-wide trailer in Hubert, NC, for eighteen days. As a new family, we were starting to form a routine that worked for the three of us. Although we had only been married a few weeks, we were feeling comfortable with each other, and dancing on our very own white, puffy cloud-nine.
Continue reading “January 13, 1996. Day 85.”I’m Boring. Day 84.
When I look back and reread some of my posts, I fight the desire to cringe. I’ve become quite boring over the years.
I talk about my chickens, sustainability, road trips, writing, and I even penned poetry about some wild turkeys I befriended a few years back. It’s white-knuckle stuff, I know, but it’s dull. I’m dull. What happened to me? Don’t say it’s an aging thing because I’m not there yet.
Continue reading “I’m Boring. Day 84.”Dating. Day 83.
Heck no, I’m not dating. I don’t have a Match.com account or an ad in the local paper that reads “Must love dogs” or “SWF seeking ______.” At this point in my life, I can’t even imagine getting in a car with someone never mind sitting down in a restaurant sharing my life story with them. For the first time in a long while, Teresa is mine, and I’m not really wanting to share her.
Continue reading “Dating. Day 83.”
Teresa Forester Adams 