I get pop-up error messages that include a random smattering of letters and symbols that look like someone’s cursing at me. And because I can curse with the best of them, I’ve tried looking squarely at my screen and letting loose beautiful strings of expletives. It has not worked. I am limited to reading one blog a day. If I attempt to read two blogs in succession, my system freezes. Sometimes when I write lovely comments to your posts and click submit, and the little green circle starts spinning, and keeps spinning, and I realize the system is going into a freeze, by then it’s too late to salvage my comment, and everything is lost.
All of this occurs, of course, when I’m logged into my account. So I log off and read your blogs anonymously. And where is the fun and solidarity in that?
But here’s some good news. For as long as I’ve been looking to have my name as a “.com” domain, it has been unavailable. I’m talking years, at least 10. Then toward the end of 2013, it came available but for a hefty sum, the amount of which I couldn’t afford without taking out a small loan. So I put it on the back burner. Then earlier this week, I decided to check to see if it was still available, and it was… for a few dollars. Now, it. is. mine. I’m hoping to set up a website that has its own blogging feature; then my woes will be over.
Well, enough about you people. Let’s talk about me!
Last weekend, my Aunt Betty came to visit me - she, my cousin Steve, and his wife Sheila. It was such a great visit. We laughed the whole time. My aunt told me stories about my Appalachian roots and the coal-mining camp my family lived and worked in. We went online and found a website dedicated to the camp and found our uncles’ names on the list of coal miners.
As we were discussing some of the traditions of Appalachian folk, my aunt told me this story. Her mother and her mother’s friend would make a habit of sneaking in the back doors of churches to see what kinds of services were going on. And I totally get that because let’s face it; if you walk in through the front door, big as you please, then you’ve obligated yourself. But if you slip in through the back, you can creep back out just as easily. So this particular day, they pulled up around back, and the two women went in leaving the kids in the car. Immediately they ran back out. Her mother started the car with the gas pedal already to the floor. Once they peeled out and got a safe distance, her mother said, very matter-of-factly, “They got snakes in there.”
I can’t tell you how much the writer in me appreciates this story.
Speaking of stories, tomorrow is both Easter and National Weed Day. If I were an artist, I would sketch a crucified Jesus being offered the herb instead of a vinegar-soaked sponge (has anyone done that yet?). And, of course, people would be offended and call it blasphemy. But what’s blasphemous, in my opinion, is criminalizing an herb that would help ease suffering. At the very least, it should be made available in every hospice right alongside the morphine.
Well, I've done enough yapping for one day.
Happy Easter! Happy Resurrection! Happy Weed Day! Whatever you’re celebrating, make it great. As for me, I plan to go outside and smell the flowers and enjoy being alive.