Archive for the ‘life’ Category

March Began Eventful

Posted: March 28, 2017 in life, Wandering

March 1st slipped past me & left deep bruising when I flipped the ATV. It was a blur that sent me to the ER for CT scans & X-rays.

I don’t remember the accident, although I was told details of hitting a rut that is unrecalled. Wasn’t cutting up, just driving around water. Last thing I recall was slow driving through high-dry weeds to avoid a muddy-watered path. I was told I pressed the gas & flipped about 800 lbs airborne then weight of the ATV pinned me on my side/back. (Memories of totaling my son’s car by driving through a wayer puddle, hydroplaning, & clearing out a ditch, to b stopped by a “For Sale” Corvette, off a secondary road, come to mind.)

First week post-flip, I could walk fine, although I couldn’t get up & down without excruciating pain lower right side & back.  One week layer, l held to the bed-post to pull myself up & steady on two-feet. Didn’t complain when I had to crawl up & into the backseat of my jeep. Had to have a driver, but I made it okay–slow & very careful. Pain–that too would pass.

If you know me, then you’ve heard me speak of my “nine lives” running out. Came close many times over, from lack of fear. ( As far back as childhood, Mother was wiping blood from my head & body parts.)

Be as it may, after two & half weeks, I’m good as new & ready for my next adventure. Resilient, thus far & blessed.

Pix I took before & one post-flip follow. I truly believe in living life while I am alive. To do otherwise is not life–to me.

Gotta love a RR track!

Out of practice posting pix in this blog, as you can see. These & more are all on Instagram. wynsharp


Posted: January 29, 2017 in life

Reality refreshes itself…
It is in the gloaming
Truth & brilliance
Oft times
Make themselves known
Tired & restless
Ere the sun appears
Upon the new day:
Reflex backward

Life: For the Love of Family

Posted: November 18, 2016 in life

This is a free-write non-fiction.

The first dish I ever learned to kinda cook, as a teenager, was home made biscuits. The kitchen was a disaster with flour everywhere: the floor, ceiling, mine and Mother’s faces. No space was left untouched by white unsifted, then sifted, flour from a humongous can that sat on the kitchen floor near the stove. Mother stood there and told me that I didn’t belong in a kitchen, that it would take too long to clean it all up.
So…at the dinner table that evening, my family were assembled around the square, antique-finished dining table talking about our day and eating. Nobody was touching my biscuits. (Guess not, when the biscuits were hard enough to knock a person out if you tossed one on the mark. Also known as “hard as a brick bat.”) My feelings were getting hurt and I spoke up and asked if anyone had tried my biscuits. Silent, scared and uncertain looks from one to the other circulated!
Bless his heart, Danny, my younger brother grabbed one biscuit and started taking bites. He would pause and look around the table after every bite and reach for the tea glass. Finally, he spoke and said he loved my biscuits and urged the rest of my family to try them. Sure enough, Daddy and Larry played along, knowing the biscuits were hard as a rock. Mother declined. 🙂
Gosh, that’s a memory of love, I think. After dinner, the remaining biscuits went promptly to the chicken yard. I sure felt sorry for those chickens, but so proud my family would eat my biscuits just to spare my feelings. I never cooked biscuits from scratch like that, again.
My Grandma Dickey’s biscuits were perfectly round every time and always had white tops–delicious. Mother’s biscuits were brown and soft on the inside. Both could cook anything so well with hardly anything to work with, at times.
I can honestly say that the one good thing I can cook is chicken and dressing–that’s one dish explained for those who cook dressing without  boiled chicken bits in it. Mother said she liked mine better than hers. She really meant that. Gosh I miss my family so much. It is more so around Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday. The comfort and emotional support they gave me was always, always, always so very much heartfelt and appreciated. I never took their love for me for granted, not for one second.