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COVID Takes. Day 387.

Baylee seeing if I needed anything.

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.”
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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.

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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

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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.”
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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.

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Chicken Drama. Day 362.

Just a Bose speaker on a chicken coop.

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.”
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Sharing a Room with Someone. Day 361.

I got new floors! Like?

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.

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Polly Flinders. Day 354.

Me, probably 1977? This was the same yard our houses shared.

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.”
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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.
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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.

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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.”
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Guest Writer. Day 342.

It’s been a long day. Not a bad long day, but just a long day. I’ve been busy with work, house chores, errands, and I needed a shower. I sat down to write about something, not sure what, and Wanda decided to jump up and plant her big shepherd feet on the keyboard.

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Yes, I’m Talking to You. Day 340.

Filters have gone too far.

Photo by Thought Catalog on Pexels.com

Yesterday I was working and noticed my work Google photo icon was especially blurry. I compared it to the original photo that I took and did not filter, and was surprised. I changed it immediately.

Continue reading “Yes, I’m Talking to You. Day 340.”
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Memoir. Day 339.

Originally, my blog was to share memoir pages, which I did. I then set it down and started writing other stuff, called myself busy, and dreaded the day I would open my memoir again. Well, I just did.

I need and want to finish this memoir. It just makes me sad to work on it.

When I opened it up today, I reformatted it and took a peek at some of the words, which seemed kind of unfamiliar to me. Stiff and safe.

It made me wonder if one day I will be happy I waited to finish putting together the pages, because I was holding back big time. Maybe this time will be different, or maybe I will quit again and put it up for another year. Either way I have to try.

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Which Wich. Day 337.

I worked a few hours this morning then unplugged and it was glorious!

Baylee and I ran some errands in Wilmington then had lunch at Which Wich. It was delicious.

I turned off socials, email, and even work, which I haven’t done in months, and it was so freeing. It reminded me I need to do that more, so I’ll see you tomorrow.

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Blurry Eyes. Day 334.

I’ve been on this laptop all day writing about the services I will provide in my new business, Maescribes, and have also spent too much time choosing a modern, clean color. I also ordered business cards with a QR code. My eyes are done for the day and I’m ready to bake up some sourdough bread. Please take a look, let me know what you think, and pass the word.

Click HERE to read more.

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Let Them See You Cry. Day 328.

Nana passed on June 1, 1993. She had cancer. Before she passed, I would sit with her and internalize everything. All of my questions, thoughts, and emotions, including tears, were held in until I hopped into my little gray Dodge and starting crying before I even hit the gas.

Continue reading “Let Them See You Cry. Day 328.”
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Just a Dress. Day 325.

I saw a dress.

It was in one of my social feeds, taunting me with her colorful, toilesque story, jet black background with reds, yellows, indigos, golds.

Now I know what happens when you click on something like that. It’s an invitation to bombard. We don’t click I AGREE after we read all the words. Nobody reads all the words.

I clicked anyway.

It was on Amazon. $11,990. Oscar de la Renta.

I exited the site, cleared my history, and spent too much time trying to find it just so I could look at it again.

Goodbye, pretty dress. Here’s looking at you. (Cause that’s wear . . . where, it ends.

Want to see it? CLICK HERE but I warn you, it’s hypnotic.

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Mountains. Day 324.

A prose poem:

Pungent, crinkly oak leaf, once red, decaying with the sweet, straight dry pines, and hard, solid acorns. My heart holds many places tightly within its arteries, latching like spikes onto the memories with its blood-filled avenues and tossing them to the forefront at random, inconvenient times. Just like the heart does. Walking in woods with the sounds seeming so high-up and loud. Blue Jays and crows telling each other to stop and start. Crystal, cool, and clear brooks and their loud fluidity saying to drink me or dip your big toe down to the clean, rippled sand. Being watched, listened to, and my human scents inhaled, evaluated, feared. Dangling tea berries and dangling Lady Slippers and confident, downy dangling doe ears. Rock walls with hunter green moss sit like couches in 1973 and trees, fallen and felled house crunchy bugs and minky-soft rodents and wild canaries. The ups and downs and overs and hops test the thighs and the loud crack behind you tests your jumps. The red squirrel laughs and leaves and the leaves cry under your booted feet. It’s all there, still. It’s all there.

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Old Videos. Day 323.

I do wonder what I should have done, because what I did, didn’t work.

Baylee was not quite three when his dad died. He was attached to him, always choosing him over me, which was new to me. For some reason, I never was bothered by it.

The day he left for war and we said goodbye, Baylee didn’t realize what that meant, or what it could have meant, but we all did. He had no true concept of time or true danger, and although he was sad to see his pops leave, he didn’t understand.

After Roger passed, I made a deliberate choice to not show Baylee videos of Roger because I wanted his memories to be real and organic. Now, I wonder if it was the right choice. Maybe the videos would have triggered something in his mind, in his heart.

It’s not something I cry about anymore, but it will linger with me forever, and I will always wonder if I could have helped him keep some of those memories, if he could have remembered his dad.

If someone ever asks me for advice about this, I don’t know what I will offer, and I think if I could go back, I would sit Baylee on my lap, put the tape in the VCR, and press play.

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Flutes in War. Day 322.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

When did we decide to stop playing music as we fight? I mean, there had to have been a meeting, right?

“Um, maybe we should stop playing music and just concentrate on killing the enemy?”

“All in favor!?”

(cue gavel hitting a handmade wooden desk in a snowy field, surrounded by white tents and dysentery.)

Flutes and drums. Imagine walking, straight-backed and straight-faced while you play the flute so angelically, or rat-a-tat-tatting with straight, wooden sticks while large, oddly shaped metal bullets whizz and whir very wobblily by your white-wigged noggin.

Were we simply naïve and dumb, or are we now too technical and in need of depth and passion?

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Vet From Mass. Day 321.

The pets’ new veterinarian is from Massachusetts.

It’s difficult to find a new vet when you move. She will be their third one since we’ve been here just over a year ago. The first one had some issues I won’t illuminate. The second one seemed nice enough, but was never available. So, I decided to make the thirty-minute trek to Wilmington to try a larger, more modernized vet, and so far, I am happy I did.

I took the three cats, and the vet knew we got the name T’Challa from Marvel’s Black Panther. Score. She read the dogs’ names and said, “Are you Patriots fans?”

“Yes! I’m from Mass,” I said to her.

“Me, too!”

She knew Gisele and Gronk were linked to the team. “David is from David Ortiz, Big Papi,” I said to her.

“No way!” she said.

My heart feels better and I have confidence in this new vet. My anxiety from this morning prior to our visit is beginning to quell, and I am thankful that our new animal doctor is from my home state.

Another day . . .