Isn’t it funny how life changes things. When I was a little girl, my dreams were so big I didn’t think this town could hold them. Now, I’d like to just eventually live in a bookshelf. Seriously.
I’d like to live in a little cottage that’s wall-to-wall books with a floor-to-ceiling ladder like Beauty and the Beast. A writing room for my music quotes, covering every blank spot on the wall. And I’d like a kitchen that looks like Applebee’s — where the walls are covered in country music, sports, and political campaign memorabilia.
This must be getting older when your goals because things like bookshelves.
Oh, and I want this (below!) I want to buy it and frame them all. Aren’t they fantastic?
You know you’re no longer that young anymore when you start thinking in terms of your life goals as hmm… I’d just like to finish my degree. And I’d like a Tennessee Vols front door and an antiqued red St Louis Cardinals side one.
Oh, and I’d like my Aunt to not come down the drive late at night when I’m trying to catch my breath after running, playing on my phone, and scaring the shit out of me. Thanks, aunt. I was getting ready to hide in the woods. Ha!
Especially after telling her that my Memaw said she didn’t like me running — particularly running down to Lonesome — because she never knew who could be waiting for me.
I said: “Who would be waiting for me?”
Memaw said: “One of those people you get smart with online.”
Ha. For a second there, I just got freaked. Thanks Aunt.
Even funnier, was I told her: “Well, if they do get me, you make sure they give me to the Body Farm.”
She said: “You know your mother won’t do that.”
Then she laughed and laughed and said, “Well, I won’t live to see it, but when you do die, I hope they give you to that Body Farm.”
Thanks, grandma. I think.
Then we laughed and laughed.
Can anybody tell me why my Aunt Paula and Memaw think it’s hilarious when I talk about the Body Farm??
When my Memaw is having a bad day, I can always make her laugh by joking about being a rotting corpse.
We have issues, fam.