The Mebane Wrecking Crew

We all met in sixth and seventh grade. Us girls cheered for this local recreation football team that had ALL the cutest boys. It was back when people ‘went together’. Usually for no more than a week.

I don’t think I ever ‘went with’ this boy, yes, my memory is that bad. But, I do know he was one of my most favorite guy friends. He was so funny. And so stinking cute. Every time he smiled I’d just want to squeeze him out of pure innocent love for a sweet friend.

We talked on the phone a lot as young people did back in those days. Telephone cords stretched to their limit. He would climb out his bedroom window and sit on the roof while we talked. I can picture his parents house and almost the location but I’m probably wrong. It seems like it was somewhere on Mebane Oaks Road near where a Sheetz now sits and there’s forty two lanes. At the time there was just a Shell station on that side of the exit. A Starbucks sits there now.

We just chatted about all kinds of things. And laughed a lot. I always worried he would fall off that roof and I would have to get my parents to drive over to tell his parents he was in the backyard with a broken bone. He was fearless.

I wrote all of this in my head last night when I heard that he was nearing the end of his life here on earth. I cried thinking about it and I cried just now typing it.

I immediately thought of that group of boys and how they were called “The Mebane Wrecking Crew”. They roamed Mebane streets at night on their bikes. I don’t think they ever really wrecked anything but I could be wrong. But no one was arrested. And I know they did some crazy things. Because one particular night they were on their way to my house when they did.

The train had stopped on the tracks. And it was a long one. My house was across the tracks. So these boys climbed under it dragging their bikes behind them. Now I didn’t see this. But I heard ALL about it. I’ll be honest. No one questioned it and they had no reason to lie. They were the wrecking crew. Would I expect anything less? No.

The girls were camping out at my house. I’m pretty sure someone had access to a six pack of beer. And there may have only been six or seven of us present. So everyone got a few swigs and were silly pretend drunk within minutes. We eventually ran them off for fear of my parents being woken up. That was mainly my fear. But oh what a thrill it all was.

By senior year I felt like we had lost him a little. I don’t know why. It’s just a feeling. I don’t remember seeing him as much. Things change a lot by the time you’re almost eighteen. Girlfriends don’t like their boyfriends having ‘girl friends’. Which I think is a shame. My guy friends were the best. Some I kept for a lot of years.

I did see him a couple of times. Once at a wedding. It was the most talkative he had ever been. And I loved catching up and seeing that exact same smile. Age can change a lot about a person. But a smile is forever. I told my husband later that he had just met someone kinda famous in my world. A member of The Mebane Wrecking Crew.

To my sweet friend, who is at the end of the road, I hope you know how much I always loved having you in my life. I was a very self-conscious, shy young girl but you made me laugh and never once made me feel like I was less than. You even made me think I was pretty. And that was no small feat.

I hope and pray, in these last days, you feel as fearless as you did roaming those dark streets at night with the wrecking crew.

What a time we all had…

For Ricky. Thanks for being my friend.

Donna

See here’s the thing. I know every single date. The ones that started it all. And ended it. Every single one. I can’t erase them. Not sure I would if I could. A memory is a memory. Even the bad ones.

May the 25th. My sister woke me up and said she thought she was having a gallbladder attack and was going to go to the ER. She had had the same feeling days before and she went to urgent care. They thought she had a UTI but that test was negative. I said wait, I’ll get dressed and go with you. She said no, let me just text you if they’re going to remove my gallbladder or anything. And she left. We texted until lunch. Mainly she was waiting on results. The ultrasound techs didn’t work on Saturday so she had a CT scan instead. Around lunch she said you can come on now. I didn’t even ask why. I just said ok. My husband drove me to the ER and I rushed in like Shirley MacLaine in Terms of Endearment fully prepared to scream “GIVE MY SISTER THE SHOT”. I was walking so fast I lost my husband and I didn’t even realize it. I found her room and pulled the curtain back and the very first thing I noticed was that she was hooked up to an IV and the second was she had been crying.

I flew at her with a million “what’s wrong” spilling out of my mouth. She said the doctor is going to come in and explain everything to you. And I was frantic and said “no, no, you have to tell me, tell me now”. And she did. Her hand was on mine on the bed rail and I just laid my head down on our hands and cried.

She was going to die.

The doctor was crystal clear about it. She was also a woman and so kind and so thoughtful and she told us every single thing. She said it very matter of fact but with such empathy in her voice you couldn’t be mad at her. My sister asked the question I don’t think I would’ve had the guts to ask. She said “how long do you think I have”. That sweet doctor said at the very most, nine months. But more than likely about six.

She told us the few options we did have. And of course none of them were a cure. There wasn’t one. There was one thing that could only maybe buy her some time. But it was everywhere. Mainly in the liver. But so many other places were named I had made a mental list in my brain. Intestine. Adrenal gland. Lung. And a few others. The doctor talked to us a lot about palliative care. She was of the opinion that sometimes it is best just to treat the symptoms as they occur and feel as good as possible for as long as possible. She didn’t make that sound like an awful thing at all. I don’t remember her name but she gave my sister her card and her cell number and told her she could call for anything. She even called my sister a few days later to check on her. If you know anything about ER docs, this is rare. Not judging them, it’s just the truth.

I just wondered aloud to myself, why are you writing about this now? And the answer came to me immediately. It’s the dates. The dates when things changed. Thanksgiving. The last time she came downstairs by herself. I always stood at the bottom and watched her. I assume our plan was for me to use my ample girth to break her fall. I don’t know. We rarely made plans. There was no time for plans. From day one we were reeling.

Thanksgiving evening she made her appearance. She was thin. And weak. She wanted some food but couldn’t eat it. By this time I was lucky if she had a small Milkshake made with ice cream and Ensure. She enjoyed those for a while. Then it was just yogurt. Only one flavor. And she never finished it. Ever. I watched her food intake like a hawk. But even then it sneaks up on you. The thinness. The paleness. The weakness. The sickness.

It’s just so awful. I wanted to laugh with her forever. Wear caftans. And big hats. And sit on a beach and be sisters. Tanned. Eating shrimp. Her drinking some white wine. Me with my Sprite. I don’t know how I will ever wake up on a Thanksgiving morning and not think of it as the last day my sister could make it down the stairs by herself. She had on a soft pink sweater. Her hands had always been thin but they were even thinner. And not her signature tan.

December is coming. The thought of that date makes it hard for me to breathe. The 22nd. Three days before Christmas. She took her leave. She was in no pain. She was asleep. And then she was just gone.

That is the date that changed those of us she left behind, forever.

I thank God for every day she was here. I’ve always felt so lucky that she was my sister. She made me feel special my entire life. But the truth is, it was her. She’s the one who was special. I will miss her forever.

I love you Donna.

I’ll always love you.

Bruiser & Me

A long, long time ago I found out that I could get a dog that wouldn’t make me sneeze and itch and I was thrilled. I don’t know how or where I found this breeder of shih tzu’s but I did. She lived about an hour and a half away. I talked my husband into heading out there first thing on a Saturday morning. He said we’re just going to look. And I thought, I’m coming back with a puppy.

We came back with a puppy that he ended up picking out. We had nothing. No supplies. No dog food. No bed. No toys. Nada. While I played with this little ball of fluff, the hubs headed out to the pet store to spend the same amount of money you could get a halfway decent used car for.

And a spoiled rotten shih tzu named Bruiser was born.

We tried getting him to sleep in a crate and he cried so hard he broke us in two nights flat. So we let him stay downstairs in the den. But that wasn’t good enough for our boy. Laying in bed one night, watching tv, we looked up to see Bruiser, standing at the top of the stairs. Looking  accomplished. My husband carried him back downstairs and over the baby gate. Then he hid around the corner to see what was up.

What was up, was that little fur ball was scaling that fence like a monkey up a banana tree. From that night on, until his very last night here on earth, he slept right between us.

Bruiser was ornery. Smart. Funny. A big lover of toys and ice cream. He once knew at least fifteen of his toys by name. And if you said go get it, he would. No matter where it was, he’d find it. And bring it to you, just to show you. He didn’t play fetch. More like takeaway.

He never once, in his 18 years of life, ate dog food. Or took heartworm pills. He led a sheltered life. And I refused to ever let him be medicated if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. It took ten years for my vet to finally face the fact that she didn’t have a leg to stand on regarding these choices because he was healthy. Never once overweight. And I could count on one hand the number of times he needed to go in that wasn’t just for a check-up.

He was my baby and I knew what was best for him. And I was right.

Bruiser’s health started to decline about three years ago. Very subtle changes. At first. But there came a time when we realized with total clarity that he had lost his spark. He had no joy. Sunday dinners became difficult for him. More than a few people in the house made him nervous. His vision was bad. His hearing was bad. His kidneys weren’t great. And in the past week he began to drag both back legs.

My husband is a saint. For the past two weeks he got up with Bruiser every single night. Usually starting at midnight. Up and down until 5am when I would wake up and take the next shift while he went to work.

This morning we had a long talk. And we knew what we had to do. It had been an extremely difficult morning. It had actually been an extremely difficult year. But it’s funny how you see what you haven’t wanted to, and you just know.

When we walked into the emergency vet hospital and the young girl said “how can I help you”, I immediately lost all semblance of calm. I just said “it’s time” and sobbed right there in the middle of the room. I was beyond grateful that she knew what I meant and didn’t ask me another thing, just gave me paperwork to do and left us alone.

Bruiser had always loved car rides. Loved a window down and the wind in his face. But with his vision gone that love for a car ride went too. I did roll the window down and for about four minutes we rode slowly and he laid his head down on the top of the door and closed his eyes and enjoyed a very cool breeze.

His last one.

It was the best four minutes ever.

RIP my boy.
I will love you forever.

Hand me a cardigan y’all, it’s fall…

As if I ever gave up cardigans. I wear them year round. My arms are always freakishly cold. I’m an odd duck. But going outside this morning to a beautiful cloudy 65 degree morning was like breathing in hope! And if we ever needed hope I’d say it’s now.

My social media is filled with peeps who, like me, live for fall. And I couldn’t be more thrilled to share it with all of you! The yard looks lush and green and full and I just wanna wallow out there with a cup ‘o joe. And have soup on the deck for dinner with little lights twinkling above.

In all honesty I would probably be heading down to the beach right about now. But as you all know, Florence wrecked havoc in our beautiful state. And Flo stayed way too long at the party and a lot of people are paying for it. Their homes are destroyed. Some still sitting in water. Roads washed out and collapsed.

My friend Beth called me and we both cried because her furniture had to be thrown out. Please keep her in your prayers. She’s a full time resident and the clean up continues at her home. I tried not to cry about our beach place, because compared to others it looked good. I saw two pics of it after the storm, both blurry and from a distance. But it’s damaged. And last night the guys tarping the roof called and just very bluntly said “you do know you’re gonna need a new roof, right?” I’m like sure I knew that. I didn’t know that. I know nothing.

Anyway, our claim has been filed and now we just have to wait. Waiting. Not one of my strong suits. We miss our house. And as much as we would love to rush down there and pretty it all up, we can’t. The roof still isn’t completely covered due to the height and how much of the shingles are gone. It’s slick and it’s windy up there so they will have to try and finish in the morning. Breathe woman, breathe.

And now for the really good news. BRENDA IS MOVING! She’s been on a waiting list for two years and she finally got a little apartment that’s just perfect for her. She’s not thrilled. I repeat. She. Is. Not. Thrilled. Well she is a little. She just doesn’t want to admit it.

When she finally put herself on the waiting list I promised her I would decorate her new place for her. She wasted NO time reminding me of that. We picked her up to go take a look at the space and she hopped in the car and handed me a composition book (she loves those, buys them in bulk at the Dollar General) and a measuring tape. She had already told me the place was the size of a cardboard box. Dramatic much Bren?

The apartment is adorable. And it will be even better when sister and I finish decorating it. We sat outside the office while our mother signed her lease and I heard a few key words, (my name for one) so I jumped up and decided to take a listen. She said, and I quote, “yeah the youngest one, well she got lucky in the marriage department, don’t ask me how. But now the oldest, well she’s screwed up twice.”

Needless to say we laughed until our stomachs hurt. Mine still hurts. We told her what we heard and she certainly didn’t deny it nor did she apologize for it. Which somehow made us just laugh more. I’m sure within 6 months everyone in that building will know all our personal business.

I cannot WAIT to see how many old ladies pounce on sister offering up their available sons. This is gonna be good people.

Buckle up…

 

A few pics from the beach.

Sweet Tea By The Sea and part of the roof damage.

Our neighbors at the Trailer Bar (they’re kinda famous, trust me). Not a scratch on them. This is what happens when a building is held together by beer caps! Take a lesson people.

The view from our porch before the storm and then after.

 

IT’S ALREADY HOT OUTSIDE and more tales from a Summer weekend getaway…

I don’t know if y’all knew this but it’s HOT! As I write this it’s 8:20am and it’s a steamy 80 degrees and ‘feels like 90’ kinda morning. I’m not a ‘heat’ kinda girl. However I love my people, we love the beach and I know I’ll love it even more in like November but here we are.

Normally we behave and stay home on holiday weekends.  We made an exception and decided to venture down to the surf with the fam and see what all the hoopla was about. Well it’s really not that crowded for one. That was the first pleasant surprise.

I meal planned for the long weekend so after baking ourselves on the beach we could eat in. No one has had to get dressed or mingle with the public at large. Especially me. I go from sleeping pajamas to beach coverup to lounging pajamas. No makeup since Thursday. I think I could get used to this.

I still have plans to stay here for a month. I just don’t know which month yet. Maybe I’ll just do two weeks first and see how that works out. The hubs is not too keen on the idea. Of course he still questions my ability to drive the golf cart. I think I’d do fine. And I rarely if ever get golf cart road rage. So there’s that.

We left the doggies at home and I’m missing them terribly. I didn’t even get to tell my Bruiser goodbye because he was sound asleep. My sister sends me pics and takes such good care of them it makes it easier. Do you all not tell your fur babies goodbye? I never leave the house without saying “I’ll be right back”.

Friday night there was the best band playing around the corner. Male singer was so-so. The female singer was KILLING IT. I’m sitting out here in the dark waiting on the kids to get here and she’s singing Band of Gold like she owned it. She then did a little Shania and some June Carter. So here I sat belting them out right along with her never noticing my neighbors were sitting in the swing under their house.

I wasn’t mad about them being there. I am, however, hurt about the lack of applause!

The aroma of bacon cooking has just wafted outside where I’m sitting. So I guess it’s my turn to do the eggs. Or maybe some French toast. We shall see.

Wherever you are I hope you’re having a beautiful morning. I hope there’s a breeze blowing that will move your hair. I hope there’s people close by that love you. I hope you wear sunscreen if you go outside. And most of all I hope to soon report that the temperature is a cool 70 degrees.

Hope…

It’s always what gets me through the day.

P.S. Don’t fall asleep during the day here because we will video you.

 

I go out walking, after midnight…

That’s a lie. No one walks after midnight around here. It’s creepy. Deer eyes glaring at you from the woods. Who knows how many snakes are out there slithering around. Besides, I need the daylight so I can count all the gnats that fly in my eyes and my mouth.

What is up with the swarms of gnats? I’m pretty sure I look completely crazy if someone sees me slinging my arms around violently as I walk, trying to swat them away. The only worse thing is being chased by something that buzzes. And chase you they will. Undoubtedly when I’m sweating off the sugar I must smell like a donut. Oy.

Most evenings the hubs walks with me. If he doesn’t he times me. I’m assuming we’re THAT old now. So I carry my cell phone and stuff it in my bra top. Which in turn will cause my boobs to click on at least four or five apps. Nothing like walking down a quiet wooded road all by yourself and hear some odd music playing. You panic for a second. Then finally realize it’s coming from your cleavage.

Speaking of boobs, and weren’t we all, I have yet to find a sports bra I can love. I feel like they all give me chest pains and cut off my circulation. I’m sorry but me and the girls need to breathe. So I slap on something fitted and hope for the best. No one sees me, thank the Lord. Except a few neighbors occasionally and they haven’t passed out or screamed so I think it’s ok.

So the hubs and I just got back from getting in a mile while this cool weather last. I actually wore a long sleeve tee. Of course I was lapped by the pretty blonde girl from high school, as I often am if she is out and about at the same time. But she’s really, really sweet. So I can’t trip her. Such a bummer.

Now it’s time to prep for Sunday dinner. It’s officially the boo’s 9th Birthday today! Therefore dinner is what she requested. Baked ziti with sweet Italian sausage. Salad. Garlic bread. And Oreo ice cream cake. She really, really wanted another little Sunday pop up pool party but alas it’s officially a school night. Tomorrow is her first day of 4th grade! Can you believe it? She’s almost a tween. <insert crying face>

Time flies people.

Make sure you’re having fun.

And using ice later…

Sweet Tea by the Sea…

Hello pretty people! It’s been a few hot minutes since I’ve written. I’ve been meaning to I promise. I’m sitting here in the bed at the beach having some toast. It’s pack up and go home day so we’re all a little cranky. But it’s also been hot as hades with little to no breeze so I actually skipped the beach yesterday and chose to remain in my pj’s most of the day. I have no regrets. I have a slight tan. Either that or all my freckles have popped out and joined hands.

The g-babies have entertained us daily. They’re so much fun to watch and to listen to. Although sometimes I think Mady would trade us all in for a nice iPad if we gave her half a chance. So we force her to sit with us at the dinner table and not dart away the second she’s taken that last bite. She’s so smart and so sweet and I will miss seeing her smile every day.

Emme is a spitfire. No other way to describe her. So excited and full of energy. The second her feet hit the floor you know she’s up. Her parents have discovered that she possesses no ‘indoor’ voice. Which just makes me laugh. And boy can she laugh. Her favorite thing? Tom & Jerry cartoons. She squeals with laughter and it resonates throughout the entire house. No one can be in a bad mood hearing that laugh. Or seeing that little face and the clever way she closes her eyes when she doesn’t want to hear what you’re saying. I believe she thinks that closes her ears as well.

For the record, their parents are pretty incredible as well. I know it cannot be easy raising children to be thoughtful and caring and loving in this crazy world we’re living in. But they’ve managed to do it. In a very big way.

So we’ve ate good food, went to the museum, got manicures, shopped a bit, played on the beach almost every day, sat on the porch and watched the sun set, watched movies, snuggled in bed, scared each other, listened to some music, had a cold beer, took golf cart rides, and seen some amazing lightning.

Basically, we had a really good time. And although I totally want to stay another week, the fireworks already started last night. So we will be enjoying the 4th of July in a much more quieter place.

Peace out Surf City.

Green Acres, here we come…

A dog day afternoon…

I’m laying here in my bed, watching my dog breathe. He has on a diaper and a sweater. And I watch the sweater rise and fall on his belly. Last night was rough. He paced the floors. He cried. He crawled under my nightstand like he does when it’s storming and just laid there. There was no storm. But his hearing is bad so maybe something sounded like a storm to him.

His meds finally kicked in and my husband picked him up and put him in the bed with us and he slept all night. He didn’t make any dreaming noises. Or lightly snore. He just quietly slept. This morning he struggled with that back leg. I think it’s cramping up. He doesn’t cry about it, he just walks a little funny when he first gets up. I know I have to call the vet tomorrow and take him back in. He had a physical not long ago. And I know his issues but I need to make sure something else is not going on.

Because I’m slightly crazy, I baked him cookies Wednesday. I don’t know what I thought that would solve. But I gotta tell ya. He loves those cookies. I baked them a little softer for him. I thought they would maybe last two weeks. He eats four at a time and I stop there. Even though I just want to give him anything that makes him happy.

After years of struggling to ever get him to take a pill I’ve discovered the miracle of Reddi Whip. I squirt a little in a bowl. Drop the pill in. Squirt a little more on top. He gobbled it right up. He knew he ate a pill. And he didn’t like it. But the need for the sugar rush overcame the disgust for the pill. He was on to me by the third dose. He’s extremely smart. Always has been.

Years ago he knew the names of like fifteen of his toys. My husband would bring him a new toy twice a week. I’d glance in the bag and give it a name. Like Purple Pete. Or Ratty Raccoon. And that’s how we gave him the toy. We’d introduce it to him and he’d grab it and run off. He liked to break them in and make them smell like home instantly. And we’d randomly say “where’s Sassy Bear? Go get it!” Knowing it was upstairs in our bedroom on the floor on the right side of the bed. Then we would sit and listen to him run up the stairs and into the bedroom, and with no hesitation, pounce to the right side of the bed and grab the toy. Back down the steps he would come and bring it in the room and immediately bite the squeaker.

The toys always had to have squeakers. And they couldn’t be rubber. He liked soft furry toys. He’d lay his head on them. He had so many I’d have to bag up the old ones and donate them. He really only loved maybe ten. But we’re excessive, I know. He rarely plays with his toys anymore. If he does I’m as happy as a kid on Christmas morning.

He’s up now and moved on to another spot. Probably sick of me hovering. I can’t help but wonder what I will do without him. He still seems strong some days. Occasionally after a walk in some cool air he will run his laps around the house. Like he used to. It’s harder with the hardwood floors. But I love seeing that old spark in him. He’s demanding as ever. Barks loudly when I won’t come to bed immediately. Still kicks his water bowl if I dare to let it get empty.

Isn’t it amazing the personality you can see in a dog? He’s never been a huge fan of lots of people and yet he’s extremely accepting of children. Emme has to hug him every time she leaves. And Mady just softly rubs his head. She talks about him being old like their dog Abby was when she went to the rainbow bridge.

I don’t know how much longer he will be here with me. I just want him to still have some fun. To keep barking at Spud. To go ballistic if he happens to see that UPS truck coming down the driveway. To make that sound he makes when I rub his ears. To eat ice cream.

To be happy.

That’s all I want for him…

Random thoughts on a rainy Sunday morning…

I thought I had slept in. I was wrong.

A little over a week ago the hubs went and bought a rug cleaner. Had to have it. HAD to. It’s still sitting in the box in my bedroom. When I complained about it he said “well why don’t you just tell everyone about it in your blog”! Done.

I’m convinced Carolina loses if I even glance at the tv screen. I glanced. Once. Sorry Tarheels. But way to go Virginia! As for you, Grayson Allen, you little pisher, you suck.

I’ve had weird dreams all week. Last night I dreamt that we moved to another house and still had this house. And I came back to check on it and my master bedroom was full of feral cats. THAT would be my nightmare. (I’m allergic)

I had the most amazing brisket nachos at Hillsborough BBQ Company yesterday. One bite in and I couldn’t speak. They were amazing. If you haven’t been there, go. Get the pork nachos or the brisket ones. Tell them I sent you. Then bring me an order to go. (They send them de-constructed on takeout orders which is brilliant)

Ok since I made fun of the hubs and his carpet cleaner, here’s what I bought. New bedding. But…I haven’t put it on the bed yet because I don’t want to mess it up. Like I’m waiting for a special occasion and I don’t know what that will be. I’ll let you know.

We drove past where we used to live a gazillion years ago in Durham. It felt so weird. We brought Taylor home from the hospital there. I remember I had her dressed in pink from head to toe and someone said “oh cute baby, what’d you have”?

I was scrolling through Instagram and my friend posted a picture of her table set for dinner. It was absolutely beautiful. And all I could think of was, no matter how many trips I make to Pier One or World Market, I will NEVER set a table that looks that good. Just flawlessly elegant.

I can’t dress for this weather. I leave the house in a warm sweater and four hours later I’m baking internally. My skin is hot to the touch. I used a bathroom in a store yesterday where the heat was set on 102. I was afraid to lock the door for fear that when I passed out from heat exhaustion no one would be able to get to me.

My dog is so ornery lately. He can’t hear so when he barks it’s extremely loud. He’s spoiled rotten, this I know. And every time I start to fuss at him for something the hubs will say ‘he’s like 92 years old Jackie, leave him alone. Are you going to yell at me like that when I’m 92”? And I said yes. I am.

If you pee on my rug…

The old man.

And there it sits. Cleaning carpet like crazy.

The old homestead. Look familiar Annie?

I cry at the drop of a hat these days…

It’s true. I do. I’m aware that I’m most likely HORMONAL. So don’t go there. But I’m also aware that at this age I seem to have more things to cry about. I also have a gazillion things to be happy about at the same time so there’s the rub.

I cried when I read that a high school classmate of mine died last week. I probably hadn’t seen her since 1979. But that didn’t matter. I could remember her as clear as day. My friend Angela called and that almost made me cry too. We don’t talk often but I love her and it was good to hear her voice. I think our friend Cynthia would have liked that she brought about some reminiscing.

I cried last night when I accidentally picked up a pan that had just came out of a hot oven. Sobbed would be more like it. I cried while my husband went to Walgreens and bought everything they had to treat a burn.

I cried at the doctors office on Monday when ONCE AGAIN, the blood pressure machine got stuck on my arm. It happened the first time a few years back at an urgent care. I left with a horrific bruise. I was actually telling the nurse about my previous blood pressure machine encounter when just like that it started pumping up and didn’t stop. I could barely speak. The nurse looked at me, glanced at the machine, and tiny as he was, he reached over and jerked it off my arm. And then we laughed.  I kind of had to. Y’all know what Truvy says. Laughter through tears.

I cried as I wrote this because my sweet cousin René called and we talked about lots of things. Mainly about how we need to have more time together like we did on Wednesday. Me and her and sista, sitting around sharing our woes and solving each other’s problems. And laughing. Lord do we laugh.

I cried last weekend when we hosted a baby shower for a precious little mama to be because she burst into tears when she walked in the door. It was all the decorations  and the food and the people. There for her. To celebrate her and that little bitty baby in her belly.

There were many more cries I could write about but I won’t keep you. Just know if you’ve been a weepy mess like me of late that you’re not alone. Brenda calls it the winter blues. So maybe with the sun shining more and longer I’ll ease up on the waterworks. Or maybe not.

Have a beautiful Sunday peeps!

And if you feel the urge to have a little cry, well then, have at it! It’ll cleanse your soul.

There’s nothing sad about a little cleansing…