I Dream of Jeannie - grace grits and gardening

DANG IT’S COLD! For one day and one day only (thank goodness) spring has disappeared from the Ozark Mountains and winter has returned. Rude this time of year, don’t you agree?

This morning I am trying to summon the will to unbury myself from my cozy, warm bed. The coffee pot in my Dairy Hollow room is waaaaaaaaay over there. See it sitting on top of that little refrigerator?

Between here and there spreads several feet of icy concrete. And my feet are bare. If only I had genie powers…

As a kid, if someone granted me one wish and I could have been anyone—real, imagined, dead, alive, rich, famous—anyone, I would have chosen Jeannie, from the 1970s sitcom I Dream of Jeannie. I loved everything about her. The way her blonde ponytail bounced when she blinked and performed magic, her dreamy outfit that showed off her curvy body, her super groovy bottle decorated inside like…well, like a genie’s bedroom should be decorated with poofy pillows and sheer fabric and low lighting.

And Major Nelson? ohh la la. He was cute before he became an evil oil baron.