Here's the story

I’ve written many things here about my early life, my current life and hinted at what I want for the future.  But these stories, ideas, allegories do not tell the whole story of my life.  The story of my life is…

I wish I was taller, slimmer, more toned and could wear any item of clothing and shoe style of my heart’s desire.  The truth is I am the opposite of all of these things so when I come across a blouse that fits well, or pair of pants that does not drag the floor, or shoes that fit and are comfortable, I will buy them with little regard to price (within reason).  Actually, I will buy the same item in multiple colors.  In my closet right now there is one particular blouse I own in four colors and I also have one sandal style in four colors. This is the story of my life.

My mother was one of the luckiest people I’ve ever known.  She won when she gambled, she won raffles, she found money and other valuable things, and she always seemed to be in the right place at the right time.  This was the story of her life.  I’ve won a few things; a couple of door prizes, a few bingo games, a baby’s car seat, and a genuine autographed picture of country music star Trace Adkins (I was going for the $50,000 grand prize).  I’ve just never had the confidence my mother had when she put her name in the box or threw the dice.  Ah, how she loved to throw the dice.  And as try as I might I have not yet won the lottery.  Not yet, that is.  I’m still working on that one.  This is the story of my life.

I revel in a clean house.  If I can get my house neat and clean I can keep it that way for awhile because the atmosphere a clean house creates invigorates that small part of my personality that likes order and organization.  But then the mail piles up, the cats get sick, the dust builds and the dishes don’t get done one night.  Or I forget to make my bed one morning or I’m too tired to put the laundry away.  Then, POW, the house is so disorganized and dirty I throw my hands up and push things to one side to take a nap.  This is the story of my life.

In the spring I catch a fever of the garden variety.  I can’t wait to plant things, walk my property, sit on the porch and listen to the frogs.  My perennials put on a whimsical show against a blue sky backdrop and I am happy.  My porch is clean, furniture arranged in a homey way and I am ready for the summer when there will be parties, barbeques, and general good times.  Then somewhere around mid-June the weed season begins which coincides with the hellish heat of south Mississippi.  My perennials fade, and the weeds have a tight grip on the soil from which they have risen.  They build their troops to great number and get air support from the orkish horseflies and before long there is a full-fledged war going on outside my door.  And there's no way I'm walking my property through the grass that has grown higher than my ankle.  Snakes, you know.  Forget the parties, the barbeques, the walks and the general good times.  I hole up inside and push away the folded laundry to take a nap.  This is the story of my life.

So maybe my life is not perfect.  Maybe I’m not a Martha Stewart type, and maybe my home will never be featured in Mississippi Magazine, but I am thankful I have a family, a home, a garden, and a whole body to clothe.  I may not be lucky in random fortune, but I consider myself blessed and rich in other ways.  This is the true story of my life.