Dining Rooms and Cheap Shoes

I haven't lost my sense of humor. No, it's still here. But the things that have happened to me, an insulated housewife in eastern Tennessee, in the intervening two years since that last post have, at the very least, been a bit UN-funny.

I am reviving my freelance career and jumped into my southern blog because, after all, my sense of humor has been a saving grace as I waded through the morass of heartache. One son nearly died in a car accident. The other has walked through terrible trauma, taking everyone who adores him with him...all of us tied to his waist and bobbing in the wake of his challenges. Rising and falling with him. We are, as a family, emerging from all of this ridiculous hardship thanks to our loving heavenly Father. He is our anchor.

I've still got my glass of sweet tea in one hand. I sure do. I still have my Yankee Candle coupons in my console and my house near the cul-de-sac end of a street bordering a golf course. I still enjoy a blue-blood accent as much as the next person, even as I realize that this sweet sound will probably end with my parents' generation. I'm still the same dichotomy...fully equipped formal dining room (rarely used) and ebay-purchased Yellow Box flip-flops (my summertime preference). I'm still the Weezer of my generation. A lot weird, a little mean, and some heart.

I will joke and laugh and write my way into my own little history book. I will survive on a steady diet of laughter. I want you to, too, my dear readers. Don't you love to realize, with startling clarity, that someone else is far more discombobulated than you will ever be? That's me! That. Is. Me. Allow me to boost your self-esteem as I recount my daily escapades here. I'm decidedly southern. Knoxville is most assuredly south of the Mason-Dixon line (I don't honestly know where that thing is, by the way). Come along with me !

See you tomorrow here in the pages of my silly little life.