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The Woman in the Dryer

  I stumbled across a video of a tall woman trapped inside a dryer.  I watched in amazement as the fire department maneuvered her this way and that to free her from the metal drum that ached to spin left or right with each movement.  Several questions immediately came to mind and I wished for the prequel to this story to help understand how a woman finds herself inside the drum of a dryer.  That video would most likely include alcohol and encouraging friends.   Sadly, no answers were to be found so I moved on to watch other things such as videos of pigs wiggling their ears in unison when their names were called and brave youngsters jumping off of cliffs into the deep blue waters of places that whisper my name in my dreams.      That night, after an hour of trying to make a nest in my bed and finally falling to sleep, I did not dream of far away seas or beautiful waters.  The lady in the dryer filled my thoughts, leaving me anxious and wide-eyed, once again.  As I lay there with one foo
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Safety Not Required

Well, it finally happened.  I ran over my husband.  This comes as no surprise to family and friends and most importantly, everyone is fine.  Mostly.  The day began with my husband tinkering about the yard as a heavy rain of Autumn leaves began to fall.  In order to beat the fall cover, he decided it was time to seed the yard with winter grass.  He called for my help and this is when the plan began to go south.   I was instructed to drive the 4-wheeler while he sat on the front rack pushing the lawn seeder.  I knew immediately that this would not end well and voiced my objection to this plan, "You know I'm going to run over you, don't you?"  He filled the seeder and jumped on front.  Six foot two with heavy camo' jacket, he blocked any view I would need to steer the vehicle on a safe course. "Go," he instructed, as he lit a cigarette and pushed the seeder with one hand.   "Go left", "Go Right," "Watch that tree," he called fr

A Face In The Dark

Forty years or so ago, I sat on the living room floor, in front of the console tv, watching Jane Jetson make video calls with George.  He would often call from Spacely Space Sprockets before jumping in his flying bubble car and heading home.  If Jane wasn't looking her finest, she would step behind a mask which featured perfectly coiffed hair before addressing the caller on the other end of the video phone. As kids, we dreamed of the day that we would own such a device and be able to fly around in little space cars.  It would surely be magical. Today, while it is nothing short of magic, the FaceTime Application on my Smartphone live streams my child directly into my life at any given moment.  At 2:00 a.m. my tiny beauty will ring in and suddenly appear in the dark above me as I attempt to wake from a deep sleep. She can see nothing but darkness and the possible reflection of my phone screen bouncing off of my pupils, but it doesn't stop her from going on and on about whatev

The Spring Without Water

“One a ponce a time” was the way most bedtime stories began in our house when my children were young.   Everyone wanted to contribute to the story and my tiny girl began each one with that exact opener.   It was usually followed by tales of unicorns, rainbows and superhuman powers of invisibility and metamorphosis.    Today’s story fittingly deserves that very perfect beginning…. One a ponce a time, a tired mom went to battle with the water company.   It was a mighty beast with no unicorns or rainbows anywhere to be found.   The mom, me, would pay the bill, but the evil water company would still send its henchman to cut off my nice flow of cool, clean water that should have been headed into our home.   People certainly had to have doubted my tales of payment and probably wondered why I had not simply paid the bill.   Through clenched fists and frustration tempered only by the desire to be heard, I would explain to the water company that my check had been cashed and yet, I still had

The Little Woman At the Edge of the Wood

    As the night sky politely gave way to the morning who stretched and yawned and filled the sky with her glowing pinks and soft orange colors, the world at the edge of the wood began to wake up.  Rabbit in his tiny hutch nudged the other bunnies right out of their bed as he, too, stretched and yawned and reached much farther than the corners of his bed.  As he lay there, all stretchy and warm, he listened through sleepy ears for the soft rain of sunflower seeds and dried corn that sprinkled down on his house each morning.       It was the little old lady who lived at the edge of the wood who made sure rabbit and friends had plenty to eat.  She came to her porch every morning as the sun rose softly above the pine trees and reached into a bucket of seeds and grains, scooping up a cup of breakfast for the animals who lived near.  The porch door would creak as she stepped outside and with all the might she could muster, she would toss the seeds into the woods where they fe

Searching for Me

In twelve days, my youngest child moves out and moves to college.  The house will never be the same.  I am excited for her, but I worry what comes next in my life story designed entirely around my children.  I'm not sure how to take center stage in a house soon set for two.  I find myself Googling distractions that I'm keenly aware will never fill the void.  Had I been online a day earlier, I would have purchased a 45 foot 1979 Gibson Houseboat.  Thank God, someone purchased it before I did.  I've looked at lake condos, sports cars, cabins off the grid, all which appeal to my sense of needing to find a hobby that has nothing to do with carrying kids to singing lessons, cheer practice, tutoring, or school.   I've watched Youtube videos on how to remove the popcorn texture from ceilings and plan to duct tape a 6 inch scraper to my husband's wet-vac and pretend I know what I'm doing.  I've learned to play enough piano to make me fun at a party, but frightenin

Dueling Tomatoes

Southern women grow tomatoes. It's what they do.  Whether they like them or not, tradition dictates that they don a floppy hat and dig in the dirt.  I have failed at my duty to produce any red, ripe delicious tomatoes. This year will be different! My plan began with eyeballing a spot on the pool deck and deciding exactly where one fancy plant would grow under my careful watch.  It would be protected from the woodland creatures that eat everything in our real garden and would be close enough to the water hose to allow me to keep it hydrated and happy. My husband watched as I planted my single tomato plant and questioned what I was doing.  "We have a full garden of tomato plants," he reminded me.  The problem is the fact that he is an overzealous gardener and when the first sign of a beefy boy tomato shows, he picks it while green and delivers miniature tomatoes to my kitchen.  I simply want one fully developed, red, ripe tomato. "I'm suppose to grow tomato