I used to be offended when someone called me a snob or told me I was unapproachable. But now I really don’t care. I’ve learned to accept the fact that I have a condition called Resting Bitch Face or RBF. Continue reading
So here’s what showed up in my backyard garden this week.
It was in a far corner, directly opposite from where I planted lettuce seeds last spring. It is January, albeit in Texas, but it’s still January. We are under water restrictions and I have not been out to visit the garden since I covered it over with wire mesh to keep the falling leaves out. Must have been sometime in October.
I’m taking this as a sign that I need to sow new seeds indoors and plant them earlier this year.
Relocating to Texas was a bigger deal than I bargained for.
My heart brought me here, twice. The first time it was for a relationship. The second time it was to leave a relationship and come home.
But coming home is harder when you come alone. And when you feel broke(en). Keep reading-!>
He just said his name was “Boots.”
The walking tour guide, eyes smiling, despite the oppressive heat at 7 p.m. shared the tragic deaths of ordinary people:
- the gentleman who wouldn’t pay the barber for his shave so the sheriff shot him,
- the little girl who fell to her death while watching the circus parade into town,
- the patients of an incompetent town doctor, and
- so many more.
Their spirits haunt Granbury, Texas. You can ask anyone in town; everyone seems to have had an encounter or two.
But Boots has a way of sharing that is mysterious, mischievous and downright entertaining.
Hats off to you, Boots.