I think I may have reduced my linking troubles with the new format.
I'm considering taking a writing course.
The last writing course I took was in my senior year of high school. It was called Expository Writing. As far as I know, that was the only year it was taught at my school. Of my entire school career, that was probably the only class of which I was queen. It was fun. But, unfortunately, I don't remember a thing about expository writing.
On one hand, I think I might benefit from taking a writing class now. On the other hand, I think it might ruin my style. I don't know. I'd really like some sound advice.
This was a nice article in Saturday's local paper about someone I know. Gail. She has a business called simply, The Farm. I've been there a couple of times. It's a very charming, warm, and welcoming place.
Gail is a one of a kind person. There's no other like her. Although, she does bear an uncanny resemblance to a young Raquel Welch. Gail emits personality from her every pore. She, like her farm, is very charming, warm and welcoming.
The article describes her business. She has a checkerboard garden. Each square on the checkerboard is a different theme. She grows herbs and flowers. She has a red barn where she sells goods harvested from her gardens. She offers various craft classes.
The article also described the ladies who help her in her business as her best friends. The article painted a picture closeness, inside jokes, comradeship, and daily life on The Farm, for Gail and her best friends. As I read about these ladies, whom I had never heard of prior to reading the article, I shed a tear of self-pity as I thought to myself, "she was my best friend first."
I knew Gail all through grade school and junior high. But it wasn't until high school that we really hit it off as friends. It was our freshman year. She approached me first. I don't know why she approached me since I really wasn't her type. She was boisterous and outgoing. I was quiet and introverted. That's not a completely honest description about me at the time, but compared to Gail, I really was quiet and introverted.
We quickly became the best of friends. Even when she got pregnant, got married, and quit school. I went to her wedding reception in the basement of the groom's parents' house. I felt like I had lost my best friend in the world. I felt like life was over. I got drunk on sloe gin and her grandma had to drive me home. When I got home, I just wanted to be left alone. So I made the proverbial "B-line" to my bedroom, threw myself face down on my bed, and lay there in the dark, quietly sobbing. A few minutes later, my mom came in the room. I wanted my mom to be comforting to me. But, instead, she stood there and said, "don't you ever do that." I can still hear her saying those words. Of course, I knew what she meant. That I should never get pregnant without being married first. I just ignored her and let her think I was sleeping. There would be no discussion. There would be no understanding. There would be no comfort.
But, shortly after the wedding I learned that life wasn't over. Not at all. Gail made sure of that. She wanted me in her life and she took great pains to make sure I wasn't left out. It was a great rollicking time spending evenings with Gail, her husband, their baby, and her husband's parents in his parents' house. And, not too long after the baby was born, Gail was able to come back to high school.
We remained best friends even after high school. She was always leading me around. But then I moved to Chicago, she married her third husband, and things sorta fell apart. Although when I came back to Springfield for my brother's college graduation, I called on Gail. She took care of my girls for a few hours while I was away. That's a good friend.
There's so much more I could say about me and Gail. But I'm going to have to leave it for another time.
Even though sometimes my emotions get the best of my while I'm writing this journal, I find it to be a safe emotional outlet.
I just dropped in to see what condition my condition was in. I heard that whenever Kenny Rogers hears one of his old old songs on the radio, he has to switch the station because he is so embarrassed. What a shame. Not that I think his old old music is all that great. Heh, I don't think all that much of his new music, even though I did go one of his concerts at the Illinois State Fair in the 1970's. That was the phase between his old old and new new music, I guess. Anyway, I say, what a shame, because even if it's crappy writing, crappy singing, and crappy music, it's still art. And it's his art. Too bad he's so embarrassed.
© L.M. Carnes 2002.
All content herein owned by L.M. Carnes unless otherwise noted.