grace grits and gardening

ramblings from an arkansas farm girl

Red or Blue?

By

Yesterday I voted. I voted even though it was almost too hot to vote, and the back of my neck started to sunburn as I walked across the melting pavement into my polling place.

Opening the door I was careful not to scald my hand on the blazing handle. I followed the signs that marked the pathway through the catacomb of musty hallways to the room with the voting booths. Stopping for a drink of water the fountain spurted a pitiful lukewarm trickle, but I welcomed it. A man walked closely behind me, a bit too close, possibly drafting off me to conserve energy. It was 108 degrees in the shade.
Inside the room, the booths lined a wall. Across from the booths, long tables were filled with volunteers verifying voter registration card information. 
I was greeted by a young lady who asked very loudly, “Are you Democrat or Republican?”
What?!!? I paused and tried to shrink into myself before responding quietly. EVERYONE in the room turned and stared. I felt as though a spotlight was shining on me. I was in the minority. She repeated my answer loudly, her voice lilting in question as if she couldn’t believe her ears. Then she shot me the stink eye.


Can this question really be asked in such a public way? Shouldn’t it be a secret ballot. The Target pharmacist is more discreet! 


“Is that your husband behind you? Is he the same party as you?”

“No, he’s not my husband.”  The man looked like a frightened rabbit and wandered over to another volunteer. Clearly we were the same party…

I was directed to a separate (but equal?) table with no line to get a ballot. I felt ostracized. Quickly I made my selections and ran my ballot through the machine where I wondered if it automatically emptied into a trash can. I darted to my car thinking I should start voting absentee.
I don’t think voting should be so uncomfortable…

talya

Musical Pairings:

America The Beautiful, Ray Charles





“And I can see Russia from my house.”
― Tina Fey

Is it the size that counts?

By

How small is too small? Could John and I possibly downsize from nearly 3,000 sf to 900 sf on a permanent basis? Without killing each other? There was a moment this week I thought he might suddenly pull a Katie Holmes and disappear the day before my 50th birthday. Poor Tom Cruise and me. Katie moved to Manhattan. I went for a walk and noticed an unmarked white van at the end of our block … Scientologists? Then I remembered we aren’t in that cult. All is well.



Being in Fayetteville is liberating, not being weighed down by stuff. Stuff we never use or see or need. But sometimes having that stuff tucked away in a closet is comforting. It’s there if we want it. Or need it. Once a year. Like the giant turkey roaster pan we use only on Thanksgiving. 

900 sf, two adults, two miniature schnauzers and one teeny bathroom. This is a challenge for a Southerner. In NYC it’s no big deal, but I doubt those people even know about a properly brined turkey.


I bet Katie’s new uber exclusive NYC home is huge.

But I need this…

Everything we bring into our Fayetteville house must be carefully considered, its merits debated as if we have decided to live in a Volkswagen. Could that square inch be utilized better another way? 


In Dallas, we really only use a few rooms in our house unless we have visitors. But our closets are crammed packed with clothes we never wear and things we don’t need. Because they can be.

Why on earth do we have so many sets of sheets? For a possible toga party? or to build a fort in the living room? 

I have three deviled egg platters. John hates deviled eggs. 

I see an incredible estate sale in the future. Maybe. Someday.


Unless we kill each other first.

talya


Musical Pairings:


Our House, Crosby Stills Nash & Young

Small rooms or dwellings discipline the mind, large ones weaken it. – Leonardo Da Vinci

Are we really leaving Dallas?

Patriotic Toes

By

Tina: You want flag?

Me: Excuse me?

Tina: We do flag.

Me: What? I don’t understand.

Tina: On you toes? You want flag? Red and blue?

Me: Do I want a flag painted on my toes?

Ok by now these people should know I don’t do stars or flowers or smiley faces or anything on my toes. I’m boring.

Tina: We do for Forf of July.

Me: No no no. Just stick to the plain color. No decoration.

Tina looked sad. I hate to disappoint. But not bad enough to have striped toes for my birthday…


About this time a girl came rushing into the salon which instantly cheered them. A new customer! Yippee. Maybe she would want the flag.

She was directed to the spa chair next to me where she immediate set up shop. Literally. Very, very, important and busy this one. 

I wanted to smack her. I knew right off she would not want the flag. Relax already. We are getting our toes done.

Relaxing wasn’t in her nature. She was tense and pinched, her voice clipped. Before her old polish was removed, she made two cell phone calls, speaking instructions hastily, very to-the-point. She left messages both times as I’m certain her calls were being screened. 

Kim: You want manicure too?

VeryBusyPerson: No. No time. Just a pedicure. Thank you. 

Kim: Yes, ok. 

What!? My mouth gaped I’m sure. What do you mean Yes, Ok. You people are going to let a captive manicure walk out the door? What about the flag? Aren’t you gonna ask if she wants a flag!  

Suddenly with this VeryImportantOne, the salon ladies had developed a filter. They never badgered her, never questioned her lack of a manicure or even offered a flag. 

Maybe they assume a rude person is unpatriotic? 

I looked over and she had her day planner spread across her lap. Every fifteen minutes was filled with an important meeting, the book stuffed with papers. I almost said, you know there’s a calendar on your iPhone, but I thought better of it. Somehow I think she likes toting around a big King James-looking calendar.

I closed my eyes and enjoyed the foot massage. The salon atmosphere was completely different today. Phantom of the Opera played. Not the typical salon soundtrack. Perhaps Ms. Business Girl ordered this serious music in advance.

multitasking 
Suddenly I hear tap tap tap peck peck taptaptaptap pop pop pop pop tap. Very Very rapid fire typing sounding like a morse code machine. This chick is balancing a previously unseen laptop on her thighs while getting a pedicure. A very accomplished typist which I admire, but as she types a fortissimo spreadsheet I want to scream. Her cell phone text messages continue to roll in, constantly beeping. 
texting

The UPS man walked in with a delivery. If the package was for my spa mate I would truly be impressed…

I left happy and secure with the knowledge that even at my peak, raising kids, working 40 hours, shuttling back and forth to games and school functions, I was NEVER that busy and important. And I’m proud to be boring and patriotic without having stars and stripes on my toes. 

talya

Musical Pairings:

Superwoman, Alicia Keys
Ice Ice Baby, Vanilla Ice

Food. Farm. Garden. Life.

THANKS FOR READING!