She’s such a little cutie (just like her mama!) that she can literally steal my Polar Pop whenever she wants. 🧡🧡 (#vacationthrowback).

Now this is a story all about how my life got flipped turned upside down. ❤️

It's almost like I'm seventeen again.... but with a slightly better haircut and skincare routine. Emphasis on the slightly.

A few months ago (maybe six or so?) a decision was made. It was a big decision. Huge decision. The kind of decision that is more or less life changing and if it blows up in your face, you're left standing there like WTF??!!!!??!?!???!!

There were quite a few people that thought this enormous decision came out of left field (maybe it did a little bit?) and that it is insane (maybe it is?), but the truth is, a great deal more thought was put into it than what they realize. Why?

Well, like I said, we made the decision probably six months ago and then I proceeded to tell NO ONE other than a few select people.

And when I say "a few select" I truly mean it. Only the people whose lives would be directly affected were told.

The decision was that we would get a new roommate.... that was moving up from Florida (1,000 miles away).... and that he would stay.... and that we would all live together.... and that he and I would kind of date.... again. Oh yeah, did I leave that teeny detail out? He's kinda also my highschool sweetheart. And by "kinda" I mean.... he was my highschool sweetheart.

Before you start rolling your eyes and making your list of reasons to have me involuntarily committed, just know, we are all very happy about this. Like, seriously. It's a little ridiculous how goofily happy we all are. Weird.

For the record, it all went down like this, because I'm fairly private about that area of my life (for the most part).

He drove up this past Saturday (12/15) with his dog and a car full of stuff (a very small load, and it just further solidified my stance as a hoarder). His mother and brother rode with him so he wouldn't have to make that ridiculously long trip (around sixteen hours or something stupid like that?) alone and then they turned right around and I had to take them to the airport early Sunday morning so they could catch their flight home. (He would've come up sooner, but his little sister, aka the best little sister I never had, got married on 12/8 and there's no way anybody, myself included, wanted him to miss that!)

I took Monday off, because I figured we would all need time to adjust and organize, but if I'm being honest, we all (him, Momma, our two pups, his pup, and myself) kind of just fell right into it and we've had no problems (knock on wood). Although, now all of us have been super confused this week, because we thought all day Monday was Sunday and our schedules look like a scene from The Shining. But we're all happy, having fun and it feels like we picked up right where we left off (he lived with us back then.... don't ask, long story). We all adore each other and we're officially a family again.

So yeah, there it is.

A beaver attacked my car while I was driving it. And no, that's not a euphemism for anything. *insert exasperation here* 🤨

This past week has been full of buillshit and "what the f*ck" moments, so I thought I would share a story that's even more bizarre than that for "Throwback Thursday." Except it's really not, because who in the hell gets attacked by a beaver while driving to the grocery store other than me?!

You know what, don't answer that. Moving on.

When I was about seventeen years old, a friend of ours (and I use the term "friend" lightly, because it's easier to say than "dude I couldn't hardly stand as we got older, because he became a real bag of d*cks" but whatever), wrecked his truck and tried to get away with the ultimate.

And it wasn't a bad wreck or anything like that, he basically just drove his big ass jacked-up diesel off a back road and hit a fence post. I don't think it even really did much past the point of scratching his bumper and barely denting his grill. The point is, he didn't get hurt and his truck was fine.

BUT he took this opportunity to do the ultimate.... he used it to call off his engagement (with his wedding weeks away).

BY FAKING AMNESIA. Apparently, his girlfriend had taken it upon herself to not only propose to herself for him, buy her own engagement ring (using his debit card that she swiped from his wallet), and plan the entire wedding and he literally just didn't even know how to get out of it. We all kind of wondered why he didn't just say something like, "look sweetie.... YOU'RE A F*CKING PSYCHO AND I'M NOT MARRYING YOU" but honestly, we all wanted to see the shit show play out.

Oh, and did it ever play out. It "played out" in the form of, he pretended to have amnesia.... but only when it came to her. So basically, he was fine and normal except he couldn't remember "her", the fact that he "loved her" or anything about their entire relationship. And we all sat there in disbelief waiting for her to call his punkass out for his bullshit and SHE NEVER DID.

She not only believed him and the entire story that he was spinning (with all of us rolling our eyes and being like "oh sweetie.... bless your heart"), BUT his plan hilariously backfired when she didn't let the fact that he forgot her and their "life" together drive her away, but instead decided to make him "fall in love with her all over again" and make sure it was "better and stronger than before." For weeks she reminded him with pictures and songs and by the time the wedding rolled around, she knew it was meant to be again.

Oh shit, did I forget to mention that part? My bad.... yeah, she totally never even called the wedding off. She did however change everything that he had originally said he wanted and told him it was because "he didn't really want it that way before his accident." And he couldn't dispute it, because then he would've had to come clean about the whole "amnesia" thing. (Which he did come clean to everybody else about seeking advice on how to get out, but once again, we had nothing useful to offer him).

You'll be happy to know that they just celebrated their ten year anniversary a couple of weeks ago and have two kids.... and she still tells the story about how they "almost lost each other" but through perseverance and love they "found each other and fell in love all over again."

And no, I didn't make this shit up. But, we all love to tell this ridiculous (and sadly, true) story.... he doesn't think it's funny.

The little house before the prairie.... between Half-pint and Didder.

My brother went by our (very) old house yesterday afternoon and sent me this picture. (And then, proceeded to call).

Now, this house isn’t where I consider “my home” to be, but it is the very first house that I remember living in as a child. I was very young when we moved from here to the middle of nowhere and I was raised in the holler (my actual home and I wouldn’t have my raising any other way), but there are things that I remember about this “first house.” 

This was the house that I learned to read in. 

Where I had my vicious bout with a nasty case of the chicken pox (or as I liked to call them “chicky pops”), leading to one of my very favorite stories of Momma having to duct tape oven mittens to my hands. 

The giant tree that used to stand in this backyard (that is no longer there) was where I first picked up my love for climbing trees (and where the beginning of my nickname “spider monkey” began). 

This is the house where I threw my first right hook.... because the little boy next door was picking on my brother and at four-years-old I wasn’t having it. The tiny room inside on the back wall was where I stuck my sticker on the window that the fireman gave me when he came to my school (and it’s apparently still there over two decades later). Where my faithful companion Howard (my teddy bear of 28 years) used to look youthful just like me. It’s where I got my first dog and made my first friend. 

It’s also where I convinced my Momma that painting the porch that ugly green color was a good idea.... leading to it being the last time anyone let me decorate anything. 

This living room is where I got hurt bad enough for the very first time to get stitches (in my head.... go big or go home). And I’m pretty sure that I’ve had sass hidden under the floorboards for all these years. Where I learned fairly quickly that while I tried to play softball, I was terrible at it and where I watched “The Thief and the Cobbler” fifteen times while I had strep throat. 

I love Tennessee, it’s my home, my roots, my way to me. But, we all start somewhere. And I guess, I started right here. 

This coming July, having condemned it, they plan on tearing this house down for good. Leaving the lot bare and it’s future unknown. And for some odd reason, unknown exactly to me, that too feels fitting.

The three amigos.... Athos, Porthos, and.... wait, wrong movie.

Three years ago today, I shared a photo on social media and I got emotional when it popped up in my "memories feed."

You see, this photo isn't just any old photo to me. This photo has me and the two ladies in my life that I am/was the closest with.... my Momma and Grammy. While Momma and I are still very close and share all aspects of our lives, Grammy passed away in July of 2012. Her passing was sudden, terrible, and painful.

Not just for me, but for Momma and everyone else in our family that loved her. Even my friends loved her and were sad to hear of her passing.... that's just the kind of lady she was. She inspired love.

We were lucky, because Grammy lived with us for the last of her years. And I honestly can't think of anything that I would've loved more. In fact, all three of us did. For quite awhile it was just the three of us, and we took care of one another.... the three amigos.

This photo was taken back when I was around eleven or twelve and as you can see, my hair has been questionable my entire life. But, these two have never cared. They have always loved me for me and I love them for themselves. I am a better person by just knowing and receiving unconditional love from them. I could never explain to them how much they mean to me and how much they are a piece of me every single day. No matter where I go, or what I do, they are always with me.

There are some people that come in your life, and no matter the reason or situation, you carry them in your heart forever. These two are definitely those kind of people. I've never met better and I'm sure I never will. Sure, there are other women in my life that I love dearly, but sometimes it's just different no matter what you do.

With Momma being as sick as she has for the last few years and almost losing her back in July, the thought of having to be without her was unbearable. And now I know what she went through when Grammy was in the hospital. Watching someone you love be sick and knowing there's nothing you can do for them is a tough situation, but when that person is your mother and you love her on that level, it's devastating. I honestly can't think of any other word more fitting for it.

I was blessed, as I got more time with Momma and after that entire set of circumstances, we definitely came out of it with a different outlook on.... well, on everything. I love my Momma and I miss my Grammy.

This is for them.... and it's filled with nothing but love.

Is a year and a half too late to congratulate your aunt on her retirement?

I mean, it happened in May 2015.... and I mentioned it here and there, but I don't remember ever formally telling people about it. And, I congratulated her (which really is the most important part.... right?), but I just remembered it and found a picture from her last day at work (we worked together) and I wanted to share it.

So, here it is. A year and a half late. HAPPY RETIREMENT, AUNT SUSI. I love you, and miss you (I can say that now, because I know how I feel about it a year and a half later). It took a long time for me to get into a different lunch routine since I used to spend the majority of my day with you for two years. It's weird and good all at the same time.

It's good, because I literally couldn't be happier for you, and I'm excited for you to get to do all of the things that you've always wanted, but had too many responsibilities tying you down to go.

And remember, technically I'm not at the year and a half mark until the 27th of this month, so give me a little bit of credit.... maybe. Afterall, I embarrassed myself at Duckpin Bowling for you!!

Your party was fun, your pink hard hat still hangs proudly, and even though I get to see you less, the time that we do get to spend together is always awesome. I know that you're patiently waiting for Uncle Roger to retire so that you two can go on your many adventures (and I can't wait for you to get to do that), but like you say, good things come to those whom are patient and wait. Patience is a virtue. And that other thing, be calm and collected.

Even though that saying doesn't describe not one woman in our family.... but that's besides the point.

I hope that you're having the best time that you can be having right now (you're on vacation right this second, but I meant just your whole life in general), that you're letting the road take you where it may (you can go places throughout the week not just the weekend now!), and I hope that you remember that even though I don't get to spend as much time with you, I still love you to pieces and will eat peanut butter with you like it's going out of style.

Here's to you (and no, I'm not squatting in that picture, it's my pants that make me look like that). I love you and no worries, I'll watch all those gross/scary zombie shows so you don't have to. Xoxo.