grace grits and gardening

ramblings from an arkansas farm girl

Daylight Saving Time: Let’s Take a Vote!

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Daylight Savings Time

At 2:00 a.m. on Sunday morning, we officially turn our clocks forward one hour. The good thing: more daylight to garden. The bad thing: I lose another hour changing all those clocks around the house. Thankfully the iPhone and computer automagically reset without my assistance. The microwave…not so smart.

I grew up in the 1970s in rural Northeast Arkansas. As far back as I can remember, I attended Brinkley Chapel Church. The church looked as you might imagine with towering pecan trees, a circle gravel driveway and a carpet of clover growing from the back door to the surrounding cotton fields. Inside, a mixture of friends and family filled the pews each time the doors were open.

Daylight Savings Time

One year before Sunday school, Uncle Rosie addressed the congregation with important new business. He proposed Brinkley Chapel NOT follow Daylight Savings Time. He felt daylight savings time was unnecessary, and put the issue up for vote.

After much consideration and debate, Brinkley Chapel decided not following daylight savings time would be too confusing for everyone else. So we reluctantly went along with it.

I love that our faithful congregation of forty-five thought such a decision could be made with no regard for the rest of the county, state, nation.
Is it time for another vote?

Grace Grits and Gardening

Grace Grits and Gardening


Musical Pairing:

Walking on Sunshine, Katrina & The Waves
 

My Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Shopping Day

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I went to Northpark Mall in search of the perfect pair of jeans. My hairdresser Denise, who by her very profession is way hipper than I, told me of a place where they can size you up the moment you walk into the store. You will go home with the perfect pair of jeans, she said.

I should have never stepped foot inside.

My little voice, the one that’s always spot-on-right, warned me the moment I looked inside. The glare from jewel-encrusted jeans and size zero tank tops and t-shirts hurt my eyes. Row and rows and rows of bling-ed up clothing were crammed so tightly in the tiny shop, I could barely walk between the aisles. The pounding music, heavy on the base, nearly shook the racks of gaudy jewelry.

Clothing.Sensory.Overload.

I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad shopping day.

I wanted to move to Australia.

“What’s your jean style?” asked petite saleschild channeling Victoria Beckham at age 19.
“It might be easier for me to explain what isn’t my style. I don’t like bling or skinny or low-rise or weird stitching.”
“We have one style of mid-rise without any bling.” She pulled a bejeweled-pocketed pair from a stack nearby. “I know these are too busy for you, but can you try these on for fit before I bombard you with choices?”
Surprisingly, the jeans fit but the shredded fabric, bright white stitching everywhere, and crazy pockets were distracting. 
“How are they?”
“The fit is good, but I’d rather try the other ones, the ones without the bling…”
“Well, we don’t have this jean in any other style right now. But you could look on-line.”
Bombard me with what choices??? Waste of time…
“Oh we do have this same jean in a short. Are you wearing shorts yet this season?” She flipped out a pair of teeny weeny shorts no longer than the back pockets. I snorted.
“No I’m not wearing shorts yet this season.” I left my Daisy Dukes at the farm in 1979. 
“We do have one pair of high-rise jeans if you’d like to try them?” 
“High rise? I don’t wear high rise.” Do I?  Just then her co-worker suggested some other brand which would be perfect for me. Mid-rise and boring.
Fit.Like.A.Sausage.

I can't wear jeans that fit like a sausage!

I felt every one of my fifty-and-a-half years plus some.

I wanted to apparate straight from this dressing room to The Gap where I was considered Long and Lean before Long and Lean was discontinued…

Some days are just like this. Even in Australia.

talya

Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.

Musical Pairing:

Lady Gaga, Born This Way

“I went to sleep with gum in my mouth and now there’s gum in my hair and when I got out of bed this morning I tripped on the skateboard and by mistake I dropped my sweater in the sink while the water was running and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day….Some days are like that. Even in Australia.”
― Judith Viorst, Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Nail Salon Switcheroo

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Typically I leave my neighborhood nail salon drafting a blog post in my head and thinking did that really just happen? Did she really just put handmade homemade bejeweled wooden shoes on my feet? or Did the floor really flood around my spa chair? 


One day last week, I pulled a bit of a switcheroo on the nail ladies. I gave them a bit of their own strange medicine, something for them to chitter-chatter about on their own Vietnamese blog.
After three days of wallowing around suffering from severe allergies, I decided a manicure/pedicure was just what I needed. I wanted to sit and be pampered (as pampered as one can be at this certain nail salon). I needed to be carried away to a peaceful place, some other place, a place with no allergen-filled spring air.
Give me the works, I said.  I don’t feel well, so I just need to sit here. No rush. They were beyond ecstatic.
So what if I had to listen to a painful rendition of Paper Roses. 
I knew the harsh overhead lights would bother my pounding head, clogged tight with mountain cedar. So, in a brilliant move, I decided to take my sleep mask with me to block the glare and help me relax. (My niece, Taylor, gave me this sleep mask for Christmas. It is magical! Not only does it block the light, but I fall into a deeper sleep which helps mask {no pun intended} John’s snoring.)
Ok, so it looks spooky-crazy, with eyes painted on the outside. It was just crazy enough for the nail salon. 

PayBackTime…

As soon as I put it on I heard…

Đó là freaky! Vì vậy đáng sợ. Người phụ nữ da trắng điên này là điên, nhưng chúng tôi sẽ làm ngón chân của cô vì cô ấy có tiền cho chúng tôi!
I smiled and ignored the nail ladies as usual.

In total blackness, I completely zoned out. I’m certain the customer who came in and sat in the spa chair next to me immediately began blogging about her insane spa experience. And to that lady I say, you are very welcome.

talya

Musical Pairing:

Paper Roses, Marie Osmond

Food. Farm. Garden. Life.

THANKS FOR READING!