This man, Steve Monistere,  IS EVIL

I was wrong to call someone EVIL. Thank You, Steve for defending yourself without calling ME names. I stand by my position that WHO DAT belongs to the people and not to WDI. Everyone else can make up their own mind.


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“These are a few of my favorite things…”

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I mean, I seriously don’t know how much more of this President Obama hatred I can take.

I am from the Deep South. The Federal Government had to force the state I grew up in to integrate. I entered the 7th grade that year; talk about being on the front lines. The year that I graduated high school, we had two proms: one black, one white. We had two class favorites: one black couple, one white; etc. The churches (with the exception of the tiny Catholic church) were segregated. I grew up next door to kids who weren’t allowed to enter my yard and I wasn’t allowed to enter theirs. We would occasionally meet by accident at a tiny creek and cautiously and quietly play with one another, constantly keeping an eye out for our Mothers.

I say all this to qualify what I believe to be a foolproof nose for sniffing out racism. You can pretend all you want that you don’t like the President’s politics, that you don’t like him because you believe he is a socialist at heart, that you don’t like him because you are willing to suspend your disbelief and insist he’s not a natural-born citizen, or that you don’t like him because you believe he is a closet Muslim. My racist-sniffing nose is not fooled.

You don’t like President Obama because he is half-black or Black (as he is referred to). As American citizens, you don’t have to like him, but by God, at least be honest about the reason. You reasons are thinly veiled. I don’t know, maybe you are fooling the people in your office in Ohio or your church in Michigan, or your golfing buddies in Georgia…but me? Not one iota. I grew up with it and I smell it all over you.

So here is some honesty of my own, I don’t really know a lot about Mitt Romney’s politics, but I don’t want him as my President because I don’t trust a Mormon. Never have, never will. Does that make me a racist? No, because Mormon is not a race, it is a religion. It makes me biased against that particular religious group based on personal research. and it makes me honest because I am not afraid to say so.

Grow a pair, people.

Leave a comment, even if it’s wrong.

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“These are a few of my favorite things…”

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Where am I?

Still here, but silenced by chaos.

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Moving is not conducive to writing nor reading. Moving is all-consuming and will empty out your bank account quicker than a con artist promising millions.

The worst thing about this particular move was that I wasn’t moving an entire household so I had to buy things like towels, furniture, lamps, forks, spoons, knives, mop, broom…the list is seemingly endless. I figured buying the large items like furniture into my budget but never thought about all the small things and those small things probably cost me an extra $3000. Ouch.

I have been to Dollar General countless times, so many that I refuse to go back anytime soon. It has become embarrassing to walk in the door. I say things like, “Morning! How are you ladies today?” then proceed to fill my basket with things like tinfoil and soap because I forgot them on my last trip.  Approximately $100 and several heavy sighs later, I am out the door. This went on for days and days. I am tired, people.

Friends keep asking me if I am having a house-warming party and my initial reaction is usually horror. All these people in my house insisting on bringing things I don’t need? No thank you.

Of course there eventually came the evening after too much wine that I decided why not? I can register at Wal-Mart and this is what the list will look like:

  1. Toilet paper                                 
  2.  Kitchen rug
  3.  Mach 3 razor
  4.  Ziplock bags 
  5.  Potting soil
  6.  Full length mirrors
  7.  Double-A batteries
  8.  Plate hanger
  9.  Light Bulbs
  10.  WD-40

Now, I have blogs to read.

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Yes, it’s me again fantasizing about sitting on Pensacola Beach drinking a Bushwacker from the Sandshaker Lounge.


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Passionate Plea

This lady means it.

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After 7 offers on 6 homes, I finally found one. I get the key tomorrow morning and can begin trudging my trash across town immediately after.

There is no U-Haul involved, only my car making 99 trips back and forth and boyfriend’s truck making a couple. There is no sense of urgency for me to leave his house so most of it will be piled in my back seat until I get enough of it inside the new place to make me feel like I can spend the night. The majority of our furniture is staying here. My books and dishes are going with me, along with all my rocking chairs.

I will also be leaving a large part of my heart here.  My boyfriend and I along with four kids still in school ended up here after Katrina. It was a shell of a house and there was nothing for us to do but make it a home.

We have worked so, so hard here transforming the house and the yard into something we could be proud of. We have an outdoor shower that is wonderful in the hottest days of summer. We poured a patio and then began to landscape.

I have planted Live Oaks,  Indian Hawthornes,  Elephant Ears,  Crepe Myrtles, a Rose of Sharon,  Bottle-brush bushes,  Sweet Olives,  Banana Shrub, non-clumping Bamboo, Wisteria,  Roses,  Redtips,  Four-O-Clocks,  Mint,  Camellias,  Lemon Trees, a Kumquat Tree, and a Satsuma.

I have stolen a Sago Palm and Three Banana Trees which are thriving as only stolen plants will. I have bordered flower beds with Liriope and dotted them with Daffodils. I have filled pot after pot with Vinca and Purslane and Zinnias.

I am proud of what we have done together. I have so many mixed emotions about this move but I think I may miss my plants most of all.

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