grace grits and gardening

ramblings from an arkansas farm girl

Lisa Marie had a PONY!

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Graceland

I so wanted to be Lisa Marie Presley. Growing up near Memphis, Elvis was local royalty, adored by all. People flocked to Graceland hoping to catch a glimpse of The King. He had been known to toss diamond rings over the iron gates like Mardi Gras beads to passersby. We would have been thrilled to see anyone walking around on the front stoop – a gardener, the pest control man – anyone with access within those hallowed inner walls surrounding the estate. 

Lisa Marie’s TV room.
When Lisa Marie was born, we eagerly soaked up all the available news like crazed stalkers. Although mostly shielded from the public, the newspaper occasionally threw the adoring fans a bone and published a rare photo of Lisa Marie riding her pony in the backyard at Graceland. She had her own pony. Driving by Graceland on the way to the zoo or the Pink Palace Museum, I tried to imagine which bedroom would have been mine had I been born to Elvis and Priscilla instead of Thomas and Barbara? Lisa Marie was the luckiest girl, I didn’t know.

Backside of Graceland

There was a big, kidney-shaped swimming pool in the backyard of Graceland, which didn’t much compare to our plastic one, filled to the rim with rusty cold water from the hose. The well water sometimes turned our hair and clothes orange, matching our cool shag carpet. Although we had John Deere tractors, Lisa Marie had her own plane. What a charmed life!
Underbelly of the Lisa Marie
As a toddler, Elvis took L-Marie on that plane to see snow in Colorado. Like we didn’t have snow? As a child growing up before global warming, we enjoyed deep snowfalls each winter, dismissing school for weeks at a time, a definite benefit to country living. Did Lisa Marie even have to attend school? Regardless, being a farm girl with a life revolving around weather conditions, I knew good and well the massive weather fronts affecting Northeast Arkansas traveled smooth across the Mississippi River and straight into Memphis over Graceland. We were only a few miles apart as the crow flies. Who was Elvis trying to fool? Memphis and Graceland and Lisa Marie got the same exact snowfall we received. And it made for perfectly delicious snow cream. If I had a plane instead of a tractor, I would go to the beach!
I was convinced that someday lucky Lisa Marie would meet and marry my heartthrob Donny Osmond. She was just that lucky. Each night I gazed at my OhSoCute, life-sized poster of Donny taped to the bedroom closet door. He was wearing a white sequined jumpsuit, much like the one Elvis wore during Live from Las Vegas, only smaller. Seeing Donny O in concert was THE highlight of my pre-teen life. Driving past Graceland on the way to the show, I happily waved to Lisa Marie in case she was looking out my window. In truth, I suspected she was already backstage with Donny.

After Elvis died, I felt so sad for her. Graceland became circus-like as did my hometown. Most of the ladies in Keiser had tickets to Elvis’ upcoming concert which never happened. Did Lisa Marie even have a real home anymore? Maybe she could stay at our house? We practically had a jungle room. 
I don’t know if Lisa Marie ever met Donny Osmond, maybe on Dancing with the Stars? Of course she totally blew whatever chance she had with him when she married Michael Jackson. What on earth was she thinking?  If Elvis is in that grave by the Graceland swimming pool, I know he rolled over a few times when that happened.

Thank goodness for unanswered prayers. Turns out I’m the one with the charmed life.

Thank you. Thank you very much.

talya

Elvis, “All Shook Up”
Donny Osmond, “Puppy Love”

“Elvis was the king. No doubt about it. People like myself, Mick Jagger and all the others only followed in his footsteps.” 
-Rod Stewart 

Do you believe in signs?

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Do you believe in signs? 
Years ago, I worked with a lady who believed when something fell from the grocery shelf as she passed by, she had no choice but to purchase that item. “It was a sign from above not to be ignored. That head of lettuce had reasoning skills and wanted to go home with her. It chose to be part of her dinner salad. Without a second thought or regret, she purchased a bruised apple or box of Fruit Loops.

Many folks imagine pennies on the parking lot are little signs from Heaven, messages from a departed loved one who still keeps watch. I like this idea, and what can it hurt? We could all use someone watching over us. But how do we know who it is?

At the horse track last week, we were convinced Daddy was sending us a very clear sign. A beautiful horse named T.Thomas was scheduled to run. With blinders on, we made our largest bet of the weekend, and backed that horse up with other smaller bets. Daddy would be so proud! He taught us everything we knew about gambling…


Anticipating that particular race all day, we toasted Daddy at post time. The starter pistol fired and “They’re offfff!” 

I never saw T.Thomas again. Did he go across the finish line? Did he fall down? Did he race at all? Crap!! He came in 5th, but may as well have been dead last. It was definitely a sign from Thomas —a sure sign we needed to stop farting away money at the horse track. That was so just like him.

That night as I rinsed my bra in the sink at the Arlington Hotel and realized my only remaining clean article of clothing was a Graceland t-shirt, I decided I needed to go home to Dallas. Being down to only an Elvis shirt is a clear sign the vacation is beyond over.

I know my tight jeans are a sign of too much food and not enough exercise. Yes, I can pretend to blame the dryer or the unbearable Texas humidity which makes my body bloat like Veruca Salt, but it’s a sign of too much queso flameado. There is nothing powerful or deep about it. 

After a 2 week absence, I finally made it back to my yoga core class. As I rolled out my yoga mat, there rolled tightly inside was a big dead fly. It was a sign and not a good one. The fly was symbolic of my recent lack of yoga practice. And after the ab work we did, I felt like a big dead fly. Walking to my car, a bright shiny penny sparkled on the sidewalk. I smiled.

talya

Musical Pairings:

The Sign, Ace of Base

“Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?” –Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Musical Beds

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Has anyone tried the new McDonald’s Fish McBites? They have been heavily advertised everywhere lately. Who buys these things? I couldn’t even bribe my 11-year-old niece and nephew to test them out during one of our four McDonald’s stops Saturday. Yes, we made four McDonald’s pit stops driving from Dallas to our childhood home in Osceola, Arkansas. The fresh brewed iced tea and generally clean bathrooms make it often the best, safest stop along the way. This 8 hour drive marked the beginning of our exciting spring break kick-off. No exhilarating snow skiing trips to Vail or warm, sunny Caribbean cruises with tropical coconut umbrella drinks. No lazy walks on sugary Destin beaches for us.  Our family spring break trips include Arkansas, complete with tornado warnings, horse races and trips to That Bookstore in Blytheville. Always. That’s just how we are.
As soon as we walked into our house in Arkansas, an immediate argument ensued involving who would sleep where. Tired, numb and irritable, this issue was suddenly escalated to our number one hot topic, ahead of dinner plans. There are 4 bedrooms in this sprawling house if you include the cave-like, tornado-shelter, doll tomb room. I was NOT going to sleep in there. The house rambles around almost in a horseshoe shape, with one bedroom facing each direction which makes for better storm viewing. Rooms were added every few years when Daddy had an especially good crop and Momma was particularly bored.
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The big bedroom in the back of the house is the room Staci and I shared growing up. It’s still our room. The man from Memphis who installed our orange shag carpet in the early 1970s told us he installed the exact carpet in Graceland for Elvis! Wow. And now with one flip of her long straight hair, my niece decided she would sleep in our room? NotGonnaHappen. Our stuff is still in there. Our handprints from Vacation Bible School still mark the space.

A slight meltdown followed as we ignored her. And there was pouting. She shot us the stink eye. With one quick glance to my sister, we silently formed an allegiance like old times, completely pulling rank, taking back what was rightfully ours. We could do that hair flip too, summoning the ghost of our 1970s long mousy brown ironing board straight hair. (insert eye roll here) My niece, Taylor, clearly had no idea we were once cool. Sorta. We haven’t always had this old short brittle hair.
That night, Staci and I settled into our big king sized bed giggling and gossiping until we drifted off to sleep, with visions of an earlier time dancing in our head. There is something about being home that makes you revert to being a teenager…All was calm, until we woke up frozen half to death. It was cold and windy in the back of the house, in our bedroom, even piled under quilts and blankets. We tossed and turned, too cold to escape long enough to turn up the heat. That next morning my back was stiff and my neck hurt. I didn’t feel like a teenager. Was Staci alive? She wasn’t moving. The bed was hard and the pillow was a stone. It didn’t seem the same.
As we crawled into the kitchen for coffee, Momma confessed that our comfy bed had been switched out with another ancient bed from Papa Creecy’s house. What?? Ick! Suddenly our room didn’t seem so attractive. With our sister alliance still firmly in place at breakfast we announced to Taylor, “You can have our bedroom tonight. So you can watch the tv.”

Hollow victory.

talya

Beatles, “I’m so Tired”
The Chordettes, “Mr. Sandman”

Food. Farm. Garden. Life.

THANKS FOR READING!