Parts of Speech
Written by Shelley Plett Tuesday, 09 August 2011 15:36“Our people are suffering. They’re not suffering so much from the reality of a down economy. The media has pounded hopelessness into them to the point that they are starting to believe that hopelessness is the act of the day. Our people are suffering not because of the economy, they’re struggling with hopelessness.” —Dave Ramsey
Don’t you love Forrest Gump and his mamma? I know that movie is old and has little relevance anymore. But it’s a classic. He’s a classic. A socially inept, underestimated and naive version of what we all wish we were.
I don’t know about you, but I’d give up a few things to be a shrimp boat captain for awhile.
Forrest met a handful of presidents, single-handedly saved his platoon in Vietnam...
Written by Shelley Plett Tuesday, 26 July 2011 18:35“… And up those stairs, in that little back bedroom is where I did my homework and I learned to play guitar. And I bet you didn’t know under that live oak my favorite dog is buried in the yard…. If I could just come in I swear I’ll leave. Won’t take nothing but a memory, from the house that built me.” —Miranda Lambert
I uncovered my sense of home in a house I was ready to leave. Pulling up an ugly piece of carpet can change a space and a plan. My intuition (and a recovered penny) tells me the carpet in this room and an adjoining hallway was laid in 1973. Almost my lifetime ago.
I guess this house was as ready for a change as me. They say a coat of paint wakes up a room. Pair that with a couple coats of polyurethane...
Written by Shelley Plett Tuesday, 12 July 2011 15:46“When you’re standing at the crossroads and don’t know which path to choose, let me come along. ’Cause even if you’re wrong, I’ll stand by you.” —The Pretenders
A couple days ago a friend and I were talking over a gallon of oil-based Kilz. She graciously offered to help me redecorate a room in my house, which can now officially be labeled a renovation.
Somewhere in the middle of the process we switched from water-based primer to oil-based, because that’s the can I grabbed at the hardware store.
It didn’t take long to discover that we didn’t like the consistency of the oil-based. Or how it spread. Or the smell. Or it’s slow dry-time. For a minute, we wondered if there’s a painting law about layering...
Written by Shelley Plett Tuesday, 21 June 2011 14:19It doesn’t matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was. —Anne Sexton
y daddy can pick up six cars with his pinky.”
“Well…my daddy can pick up Jupiter with one finger.”
My daughter and a friend were having an impassioned discussion about whose dad is stronger until they were offered a chocolate malt and their minds wandered toward the ice cream, which is, I believe, a natural progression. The subject was quickly dropped and a winner was never declared.
The girls were on a post-Father’s Day high and their daddies were foremost on their minds. That’s the value of Father’s Day. It reminds us to remember, because on the off days that we’re not pitting our own family members against someone else’s...
Written by Hillsboro Free Press Tuesday, 07 June 2011 13:27When I really worry about something, I don’t just fool around. I even have to go to the bathroom when I worry about something. Only, I don’t go. I’m too worried to go. I don’t want to interrupt my worrying to go. —J.D. Salinger, “Catcher in the Rye”
I’ve come to the conclusion that we, as in those of us who are now raising kids from 0 to 18, are the first generation of parents to chronically beat ourselves up over every trivial thing about those kids.
Except for maybe three or four generations ago, the first settlers in “these parts,” were walking in head-high grass to stake a piece of ground. I imagine they had issues of their own to work through, leaving the threat of structured playtime and cyber bullying for...
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