Sushi for lunch
It’s what the doctor ordered on a humid, grumpy day. Especially paired with a good book and a corner table overlooking Union street.
Getting your husband flowers
He may be embarrassed, he may not even know what to do with them when you hand them to him, but it feels good to make him smile with shock and maybe a bit uncomfortably.
Southern Gothic Literature
I’ve been catching up on my contemporary Southern novelists. Harry Crews, Karate Is a Thing of the Spirit is wonderful, as is Geronimo Rex by Barry Hannah. I loved, loved, loved Geronimo Rex; it was a brilliant coming-of-age story in the modern South.
Getting Over a Long Held Belief by Being Proven Wrong
I used to not “like” Kurt Vonnegut. Why? Because all my hipster friends told me they adored him, and he was the best thing since sliced bread. They annoyed me and I thought they were pretentious. So I avoided all things Vonnegut. I even wound up getting through high school AND college without reading one title. How, I don’t know, but now I stand corrected. He rules. Breakfast of Champions is amazing and I don’t want it to end. To quote Judge, “I’m so jealous you’re reading it for the first time. I want to be reading that book for the first time to get the rush over again like you’re about to get." Yep, he’s right.
Making Indiana a Honorary Southern State
I love people and things from Indiana. I think they are partially Southern and I give them an honorary membership to my home region. Why? Because it always surprises me with the lovely individuals and art that come from there. Vonnegut, you started this mess.
Standing Up For Yourself
Whether it is the gas company, the bank, or the boss, standing up for yourself feels so good. As long as you do it diplomatically and without curse words. Use confidence and indifference instead. That does work.
Preparing for School
I’m tentatively going back to school. This means studying for the GRE (which honestly, I haven’t done that much of) and writing, writing, writing. I’ve written a few short pieces and a few poems, getting the wheels greased. I’ve got to get the Ego out of the way and just do it. Help me, Eckhart!
We now have a dog. I forgot what it was like to be awakened by a monster in white fur, waiting to go outside, and watching the fog rise on the hill across the Cumberland River. It’s almost like yoga, but without the stretching.
We watched part of the Running Down a Dream DVD last night and it even more secured how much I adore Tommy Petty. I would die if I met him. DIE, I say! My Father-in-law went to high school with him and has a yearbook with his young picture in it. He is the Bob Dylan of the South.