When one tests negative after COVID, it does not mean the fun is over. Trust me. It’s known for lingering beyond its non-existent welcome, as we all are aware, and I’m seeing it firsthand.
Continue reading “No Joy. Day 393.”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.
No Place to Go. Day 392.
When I was eighteen with a young Tyler, I was packing to move out of my parents’ house to live in an apartment in Southampton, MA. I had boxes of hand-me-down pots and pans from Nana, cheap, flimsy towels from Ames department store, and a couch that looked as though it belonged on the the Golden Girls’ lanai.
Continue reading “No Place to Go. Day 392.”ISO Transparency. Day 391.
There are many topics I do not touch when writing pieces for this public blog. I wonder if I will ever be able to offer my readers posts about what I really want to talk about, my actual opinions with no explanation or excuse.
Continue reading “ISO Transparency. Day 391.”That Stinks! Day 390.
After I pour my first hot cup of Cafe Bustello in the morning, I hold the mug with both hands, close my eyes, and inhale the bold bitter scent. I tried that this morning and felt the warm steam hit my face, but no smell of coffee. I tried again. Nothing.
Continue reading “That Stinks! Day 390.”What’s in a Name? Day 389.
“I always liked the name Samuel,” I said to Roger.
“I do too,” he answered.
“And it would be cool to name him after one of our founding fathers, the rebellious one, right?”
We were naïve, and that’s truly OK.
One Year Ago. Day 388.
To assist me with my dippy COVID brain, I will borrow a post from one year ago today. It’s about other places:
COVID Takes. Day 387.
COVID is still lingering around our house, infecting a new person whenever it wishes. So far, Sammy and I have tested positive, Baylee doesn’t feel well but tested negative so far. Max has been hiding in his room or going to school masked so he may avoid it.
Continue reading “COVID Takes. Day 387.”The Chills. Day 386.
We’ve finally become part of the majority and have tested positive for COVID. Well, Sammy and I have. I think it’s just a matter of time before Max and Baylee do, too.
Yesterday I felt a little off, then last night I had the chills and body aches. Because Sammy tested positive the other day, I knew what I was feeling. (He said I could share his results.)
I’m thankful for the ones who created the vaccine and for the more mild variants. Because we are vaccinated, our symptoms are mild, almost like a short flu with a low fever. I am also happy my windows are open in my bedroom and that the air is cool and clean.
For now, this is all I can give. It is time to surround myself in German Shepherds and Modern Family.
My First Post. Day 385.
I wrote my first blog post for Maescribes! It is very important content about homonyms and how incorrect usage can actually affect your business. Misuse of like words can cause potential clients or customers to have unfair misconceptions about your ability and product. Here she is:
Deckled Edges. Day 384.
My great-grandfather, William Lamory, whom I’ve never met, invented the deckled, or deckle, edge! I know, I know, exciting content, but you have to admit it’s pretty cool.
Continue reading “Deckled Edges. Day 384.”Our Family Nights Out. Day 383.
I was probably around eleven. My brothers were nine and seven.
“Let’s go to dinner Thursday night,” my mom would say.
“Yes!”
Continue reading “Our Family Nights Out. Day 383.”Gummy Smile. Day 382.
Kindergartners with missing teeth are the cutest little angels, right? We cherish the old pixelated or curling photos of our children with gummy smiles, and look back at how cute they were with gaping holes where their little white pebbles once were.
Continue reading “Gummy Smile. Day 382.”Carnage. Day 381.
Sappy green canopies and umbrellas and a roof. Lush, sturdy pine branches with stick walls. Little big homes made of twigs, mud, hair. New babies tucked into siblings' warmth. Gray Mom reappears with three acorns and a fluffy, speckled off-white mushroom. Tail the size of her body, rising high in alert. The barred owl screams. Mom's ears perk. She wraps up with her kits until the sun. Safe. Above them the crows, Ma and four hatchlings. She flies away from the nest, then comes back, then flies away, then comes back. Earth's worm. Scream scream scream eat it. More. They, too, tuck themselves in for the night. Setting sun. Under Mom's wide black feather blanket. Away from the owls and the rain and the chill. Until the morning sun. In a tall pine close but far, owl's nest. The downy fledgling watches Mom fly and waits for the flimsy, soft mouse or the floppy graying lizard. All through the night. With the sun. and the waking lids and the morning dew and Earth's yawn. It comes. Not breeze or flutter of birds, but crashing and clanking and foreign yelling. Yellow machines aim at the houses made of twigs and sticks and branches and trunks. Work boots and fat tires, lunch boxes and canteens of coffee. Raspy yelling and Marlboro smoke. Chainsaws and ripped, dull blue jeans. Sappy bleeding horizontal trees. Settling, blinding dust. Owl flies, crow flies. Squirrel grabs her favorite and, in vain runs. Down down down the tall pine, grabbing with her sharp claws at the crispy bark while her little dangles between her teeth.
A Little Country Store. Day 380.
There’s a little country store for sale at the end of my road on the corner of 117 in Willard. It’s a small rectangle with a flat white roof, and has windows covering most of the front. There’s a little shed out back, a small propane tank, and it’s on a corner lot with ample parking in the dry dirt lot.
Continue reading “A Little Country Store. Day 380.”Marines. Day 379.
Saturday’s event for Tunnel to Towers had young Marines in uniform there who volunteered and presented Colors. I was distracted by one simple thought; I know what the fabric feels like.
Continue reading “Marines. Day 379.”Twice a Day and Far Away. Day 378.
“Hi,” Tye said.
“Hi, how’s things?”
“Good. Tired. It was a long but nice weekend.”
Continue reading “Twice a Day and Far Away. Day 378.”The Arcade Grabby Machine. Day 377.
*another haiku
One quarter, blue bear Red button left, down, grab, lift Don't breathe up up dang.
A Repost About Love. Day 376.
What a Day! Day 375.
My posts will be brief this weekend because I want to spend every second with Auntie Sherry that I can. I do, however, want to share a few of my favorite parts of the day:
- I met a girl named Theresa May today.
- Someone played Amazing Grace on the bagpipes.
- This event raised over $45,000 for Tunnel to Towers.
- I saw the first neighborhood in Hubert, NC where Roger and I rented a trailer in 1995.
- I got to spend time with my dear friend, Laura.
- There’s so much more.
#grateful
Tomorrow! Day 374.
Today is an exciting day!
My sister-in-law, Sherry, is on her way from Tennessee to stay for the weekend. She will join us tomorrow for the 5K in Swansboro, then we will hang out all weekend. Plans? Yes! Menu planned? Yes!
Continue reading “Tomorrow! Day 374.”Worry. Day 373.
I know, I know, we all worry, right? It’s human nature and the older we get, the worse we worry.
Continue reading “Worry. Day 373.”Picky? Day 372.
When I was a kid, I ate what was put in front of me. There were no other options.
“She’ll eat anything.” To this day, there isn’t much, unfortunately, that I don’t like.
Continue reading “Picky? Day 372.”Layaway. Day 371.
It was October and my carriage was full of Hot Wheels tracks, downy Elmo pajamas, miniature Hulk Hogans and Stone Cold Steve Austins, and plush character blankets covered in football helmets or Power Rangers. I pulled up to the register at the back of the store by the bathrooms.
Continue reading “Layaway. Day 371.”Must Be the Light. Day 370.
Split yellow highway lines at night, walks in the cool mossy woods, and the scent of a clean oak fire have been infiltrating my mind lately, in short, abrupt blips that have no meaning or reason.
Continue reading “Must Be the Light. Day 370.”9/11 Repost. Day 369.
*If you wish to learn more about our upcoming T2T 5K, or if you would like to donate, please click here:
https://runsignup.com/Race/130359/FundraiserDonation/GvD74BlyeWO0d0MM
I wrote this post a year ago and it still stands. Use today to live a little slower, soak up your freedom and peace, and reflect on those we lost that day 21 years ago. Somber, yes, but let’s maybe try to pry ourselves out of that just enough to live live live out of respect for those who perished that day. Also, celebrate the lives of ones like Roger who followed years later because of 9/11.
Mention them, talk about them, REMEMBER them.
This repost is about taking it a little slower and going down virgin roads:
Another Turn on Life’s Highway. Day 368.
It is time to start working full-time making Maescribes into something. Working for Treasure Realty in Eastern North Carolina was my stepping stone, my first paying job since I was pregnant with Sammy. I was hired on March 21st of this year, and my last day will be September 29th. I wrote a post about beginning work after I was hired. Click HERE to read it.
Continue reading “Another Turn on Life’s Highway. Day 368.”Cigarettes. Day 367.
It’s been over five years since I’ve had a cigarette.
Samsung Vacuum. Day 366.
Warning!: Exciting content!
If you have dogs, cats, or floors, get a Samsung vacuum. It’s called a Samsung, Jet 70 Pet Cordless Stick Vacuum with Lightweight Design, and I’m in love.
Continue reading “Samsung Vacuum. Day 366.”One Year of 543! Day 365.
Today marks one year of my 543-day writing journey for Roger. One year! Click HERE to read all about it.
Continue reading “One Year of 543! Day 365.”Positivity. Day 364.
I’m not one of those cheerleader types, never have been. I try, however, to keep things on this blog positive because there’s enough in my life that is negative, and I don’t want to drown my audience in a warm pool of depression and woe-is-me sentiment, but I get frustrated, too.
Continue reading “Positivity. Day 364.”Hot Ones Again, and This Time: Verde Pringles. Day 363.
I don’t think you understand how much I love these Pringles.
Continue reading “Hot Ones Again, and This Time: Verde Pringles. Day 363.”Chicken Drama. Day 362.
I was driving the lawn tractor trying to spread out the excess of grass clippings that the recent rain has caused. It’s so thick and lush, which is great, but I don’t have a bagger yet, and don’t want to spend a thousand dollars for one. I was whirling around in circles, trying to create a nice pattern (We compete with grass patterns in this household.), when I see Max walking towards me holding our red sexlink hen we call Romanoff.
Continue reading “Chicken Drama. Day 362.”Sharing a Room with Someone. Day 361.
Sharing a room with Roger was so easy, but I can’t imagine ever doing it again.
Maybe because it’s been too long, but the thought of not watching what I want on TV, not having two cats and a large German Shepherd in my bed, and listening to someone else snore doesn’t sound good to me.
Growing up, I used to think it was a little weird that my Nana and Poppa didn’t share a room. I thought they would be lonely, but now I get it.
Maybe one day someone will come along who will make me second guess my opinions of today. It’ll have to be a non-snorer who loves animals and likes the same shows I do. Otherwise, we’ll just have to live separately and meet up for ice cream or a movie somewhere, and I’m OK with that.
Thank You. Day 360.
My eyes are very tired from working and writing and reading, so I will use this post on this day to simply say hello and thank you for reading.
Three Grandpas. Day 359.
I was lucky enough to have three grandfathers growing up, and each one of them was in my life. They all loved me, too.
Continue reading “Three Grandpas. Day 359.”Sandwiches. Day 358.
“Since we’re going to Wilmington tomorrow, why don’t we stop at Which Wich and grab lunch?”
“Yes!”
Continue reading “Sandwiches. Day 358.”Not Charlotte. Day 357.
Is it flawed, or is it effective? I took this last night after the rain when the peepers were celebrating by peeping. I do love spiders, and I also love how the flash picks up all the arcs and corners and rectangle holes. I don’t know her name, and I’m not going to make one up.
Sometimes I Wonder. Day 356.
- What political affiliation Jesus was attached to
- How come nobody ever took a photo of a Stegosaurus
- What true freedom is
- Why we don’t talk about Earth’s most dangerous parasites more (humans)
- How stationary we are attempting to achieve with each new technology
- When we’ll have enough stuff
- Who’ll stop the rain?
Brownies. Day 355.
The basement of the Primary School in Southampton, MA was the first place I have felt complete shame, and it’s attached itself to my psyche and self-worth even until this day, 43 years later.
Continue reading “Brownies. Day 355.”Polly Flinders. Day 354.
When I was four, my mom, dad, two little brothers, and I lived a few houses away from Nana’s at Laurel Park in Northampton, MA, in an arc of small homes that shared a large front yard. We lived in a red cottage with one bedroom and an upper loft that sat on the far right side of the arc, and I could see Nana’s house from our front door which rested all the way to the left of the arc.
Continue reading “Polly Flinders. Day 354.”Helen’s Kitchen. Day 353.
something I found in my documents:
Continue reading “Helen’s Kitchen. Day 353.”Hot Takes. Day 352.
Per Merriam-Webster, a hot take is “a quickly produced, strongly worded, and often deliberately provocative or sensational opinion or reaction (as in response to current news).”
Continue reading “Hot Takes. Day 352.”Good Bullets. Day 351.
- Baylee is having his braces removed today.
- I’m finally having the carpets removed and hard floors installed tomorrow.
- Sam accepted an incredibly swag offer and I know he’ll kill it.
- Tyler has also accepted a fancy pants offer.
- Max went to his first day at the University of North Carolina in Wilmington today.
- Gisele and Wanda are healing well.
- I think I have enough peppers to make another batch of hot sauce.
- I found a good recipe for street corn.
- Time off is nigh.
Sign Me Up. Day 350.
Rise early, tuck your beach chair under your arm and walk a few steps to the ocean where you can watch the sun rise, lounge all day in the rays with your favorite classic novel, or rent a surfboard or bodyboard from one of the local beach rental shops and stay in the waves until supper. Stay on the white sands to savor nightfall and the calming of the wind and waves, or walk back to the house and get ready for an exciting night on the town.
A short drive away will take you to karaoke with the friendly locals or live music at one of the bars or breweries. You will also encounter local boutiques, mom-and-pops, chain restaurants and stores you are familiar with, and local restaurants that boast fresh seafood, fish, and even produce. Maybe you want to play golf or visit one of the fishing piers to visit with the local fishers, reel in your own dinner, and go back to the bungalow to create your gourmet masterpiece.
Business Owners. Day 349.
I do wonder if it is common to be gently self-attacked with a bout of imposter syndrome when opening a business. I imagine so, just as with any great move in one’s life, there is a sense of worthiness-wonderment and who-the-heck-do-think-I-am that comes with the territory. Although I’ve had inquiries, even though I am not fully up-and-running, I do question my value during my tired moments.
Continue reading “Business Owners. Day 349.”Mitt. Day 348.
Rawhide finger pouch Sweet dank, cheers, hollow sphere waits. True pop-fly hero
21. Day 347.
Happy birthday, sweet Max.
Weepy. Day 346.
Maybe it’s the weather, the dogs and their recent quarrelling, or the looming positive changes up ahead, but the past few days have been dark and all around meh.
Continue reading “Weepy. Day 346.”The Rocks. Day 345.
After we decided Gisele’s injuries warranted a visit to the emergency vet, we also made the fast decision about who would go, and it landed on me and Max.
Continue reading “The Rocks. Day 345.”A Dog Fight. Day 344.
I’ve had dogs in my life for its entirety, and have seen only two dog fights involving my own pooches until yesterday. They didn’t end with a trip to the emergency vet, though. Last night’s did.
Continue reading “A Dog Fight. Day 344.”
Teresa Forester Adams 