I have had people tell me that I am the one common denominator in the problems I have had with certain folks and my response to them is, “You’re absolutely right!” You see, I am only talking about the state of my relationship and my decision to walk away from a toxic person. I’m not talking about anyone else…just about me. If that makes me the common denominator then cheers for pointing out the obvious. Continue reading
I wanted to get this post out into the Interwebs before Halloween this year, but at least it’s out there before Halloween 2016. I want to talk to you about screaming! One of the best times of year to let your scream loose is Halloween. The scary costumes and haunted house tours guarantee your scream oodles of air time! There are all kinds of screams. Scary ones, angry ones and screams of pure joy. The ones of pure joy are my absolute favs! How awesome is it to scream just for the sake of screaming?! It’s one of the easiest and most accessible stress relievers available.
But screaming can be taboo. Continue reading
It was a beautifully warm day in the year 1989 when myself and my two friends, Connie Stewart and Catherine Hardwick, followed the back roads near Winston-Salem, NC to visit a famous folk artist named James Harold Jennings. We had called ahead to speak with his sister before getting on the road that morning. We wanted to make sure James Harold would be home, but mostly we wanted him to know we were coming so he wouldn’t start shooting at us with one of his many shotguns.
He greeted us at the grand entrance to his home with open arms and smiles. Despite the propensity for shotgun salutations, James Harold was a sweet and fragile soul. His mannerisms were childlike and very playful. He was elated to have company, especially what he termed as three pretty gals, and so proud to share his work with all of us. Continue reading
We traveled far to visit a special friend a long time ago. He was taking us to one of his favorite places in the world and it was going to be an interesting journey getting there. This is a story about that adventure.
As soon as we arrived in his town we were whisked off to a large canoe. The three of us began the arduous task of rowing through the dense swampland that crowded in on all sides of our boat. Tall waterlogged cypress trees towered all around us with drapes of curly moss hanging from the lowest branches. The only sounds were the swishing of the water as we dipped in our paddles to move us forward. The water swirled a chocolate colored brown from the tannin and smelled of earth. Continue reading
For as long as I can remember, my husband and I have enjoyed a pot, or a cuppa, hot tea in the evenings. We don’t claim to be tea leaf experts, but we both know what we like. I am more of a black tea drinker, while my husband leans towards the green teas, rooibos and some herbals. Usually if I’m drinking an herbal, it’s to treat an ailment. I rarely drink them for taste, unless it’s a superfood tea blend. Continue reading
Nestled on a tiny gravel parking lot sits a small cinder block building painted the color of a royal blue, happy sky. Even though this pretty little place outwardly exudes seaside charm and ambiance, it is the stuff of urban legends and scary tales from the redneck crypt. Some locals might shiver their timbers when the words “Blue Crab Tavern” are uttered, but visitors roll right on in and pull up a stool. From knife fights to bar brawls and murderous shenanigans, the Blue Crab Tavern has been the rumored scene for many of the larger imaginations roaming the beaches here on the Outer Banks. The truth is that there might be the occasional lover’s spat inside those hallowed blue walls, but anything beyond that is just an old wive’s tale. The Blue Crab reminds everyone of a hole-in-the-wall watering hole from back home. It’s got that charm! Continue reading
I have been moving on a daily basis now for quite a few months. It seems that once you clear your calendar of worry, those muscles need a little stretching out, so that’s what I’ve been doing.
I added this one move to my workout that used to scare the living crap out of me. It was in one of my beginner yoga books as part of a warm up stretch. It’s called the flat footed squat. Squats of any kind always frightened me because I never knew if once I’m down there, I’m going to be able to stand back up, or have to roll over on the floor and then try to stand from a lying down position. That last part would look totally awkward and be incredibly discouraging, by the way. Continue reading