Sweet Sweet Tennessee Air

I have waxed poetic about the way the air smells in Tennessee. How when I cross the border I open my car windows and just take in deep breaths of that sweet nectar.

Recently I have figured out how Tennessee does it.  Somewhere the state takes a bath with this stuff .

I used it at my Dad’s house while watching the Laker’s lose the championship a few weeks ago and just sat there with my hands over my face. I looked like I was intesely watching the game, but in reality I was smelling my hands……

Since my Dad is out of town right now, I had to go water his plants yesterday. I did so on the way back from the dog park. There is something “not so fresh” about a visit to the dog park, so I decided to wash my hands. I was reminded of the glorious soap that awaited my handwashing. The devil on my shoulder made me take the bottle and slip it in my purse, swearing to replace it before my Dad gets home.  I rushed home and took a shower with it and DAYUM—I smelled so good.

Used it for my shower this morning and I STILL smell good.  I think I have to get the whole line of products with this scent and go to town.

Sure, I can get obsessed….but it’s soap! No one will get hurt by my obsession and with the heat of Tennessee summer bearing down on us, perhaps I will smell good enough to distract from some other person’s funk.

It could happen.

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Ain’t that a bitch!

or “Why being a people pleaser is dumb!”

For the vast majority of my early life, I was “the loud one.” I had a voice that carried. I got in lots of trouble in school for talking too much and too loudly. I was always the one who got in trouble at slumber parties for talking after lights out. Ask my mom, she will confirm–but don’t tell her I have a blog please, she doesn’t understand them and will think it’s a disease or something.

As many things in my world tend to do, the pointing out of this “issue” made me super sensitive about it. I made a point to speak softly as much as possible.

Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit, apparently I am an overachiever in the “speak more softly” category of life.

I am constantly being told to speak up. It’s infuriating!  I will repeat things over and over until I realize that even I don’t care what I’m saying anymore.

I worry that I speak even softer due to the inevitable hearing damage I have as a result of liking to be right up front at shows. However, the majority of my blame will go to all those teachers and mothers who told me I talked too loud.

I’d go yell at them…..but they’d probably not be able to hear me.

 

 

It ain’t easy being me

This was an email to a couple of friends. They said it should be a blog. I tend to obey pretty well 🙂

So, Tuesday night I fell off the curb at my place and screwed up my ankle and skinned my knee….just call me Grace!
Then last night I’m driving to the dog park. Out of no where the car in front of me swerves, by the time I notice this I see what they were swerving for and run right over it.
Of course, this big plastic bucket thing gets stuck under my car (turns out it was a kitty litter bucket–obviously the universe telling me to change the cat box) So I’m driving up 65 just hoping that the thing comes unstuck and doesn’t fly out the back of my car and hit the car behind me. This doesn’t happen so I take the next exit, go to a gas station and pull the kitty litter bucket out from under my car.
I think, at this point, everything is fine and we go towards the dog park. Then I hear another dragging noise and realize that the plastic guard thing under the front of my car is probably dragging a bit and decide I’ll look at it when I get to the dog park.
The noise gets louder and louder as I drive. Crazy homeless people are looking at me like I’m nuts. I’m pretty sure I saved a man’s life who was getting beat up because the thugs were so amazed at the white girl with the loud car. I finally pull over and take a look.  It’s basically holding on my very little plastic, so I get on my (skinned) knees, in a dress and proceed to yank the whole thing off. Just as I’m getting my injured, dirty ass up off the road, cute guy drives up and asks if I need help.
“Do girl’s in dresses with skinned knees and dirty hands carrying large plastic car parts turn you on?” is what I thought.
“Nope I’m good” is what I said.
Sometimes I wonder why I even risk leaving the house.

Better Living Through Chemistry

So, I’ve been on anti-depressants for about a year and a half now. Seriously! I know it’s shocking for as well adjusted person as I to be taking such measures to be able to function, but it is true. The chemicals in my brain can simply not be trusted to regulate themselves and, this is truly shocking, vast amounts of vodka didn’t really help either. I like to think that this was a great decision on my part and that I am much better at life in general since bringing Celexa into my life. Hopefully those who knew me before and stuck around through some ugly times to see me after would agree.

My prescription ran out a few days ago. Well, let me clarify, the bottle I had ran out the same day my mom came in town for a visit and I got sidetracked and didn’t get a refill ASAP. This, I have come to understand, was a REALLY bad idea. I had been having relentless, exhausting dreams for the last few nights and this morning I woke up with that feeling that I had almost forgotten, that feeling that getting out of bed was going to be a big chore today. At first, I figured it had to do with my mom going home today. That always makes me sad and knowing that it would be over 6 months before I would see her again, definitely is rough. But this had a different feeling, a feeling that was more familiar then I wanted it to be.

I instantly called my prescription in, but the day started to get away from me and it was time to take my mom to the airport before I had a chance to get to Walgreens. As we were sitting at Cracker Barrel ordering food, my mind started racing and I couldn’t keep a thought in my head or form a complete sentence and it turned into a struggle to keep my shit together before dropping my mom off at the airport. She hates leaving under any circumstances, but if the flood of tears I felt pushing on my eyes broke through, there was no way I could have gotten her on the plane. I knew I just needed to get my pills and get home and chill.

If you have never had chemical imbalances or fun things like that, make sure to add that when you count your blessings. It SUCKS! You want to talk to people, but you know you would not make any sense. You want to be alone, but are scared to death to be lonely. It’s like your heart and you brain are duking it out and whichever one is messed up is winning. There is a part of me that is kinda glad this happened, I think I had gotten to comfortable. I needed a little reminder that life is a fragile thing and laziness is no excuse to not take of myself. Now, I’m going to go snuggle with my dog and watch random TV until my mind gets back in order…..