Serving Clovis, Portales and the Surrounding Communities
Serving Clovis, Portales and the Surrounding Communities
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I sliced my hand open a few days ago. My husband, Peter, says I am accident prone and I tell him this is not true. But a few Thursdays ago, while trying to scrape some particularly stubborn avocado off my favorite sharp knife, I reinforced Peter’s claim and opened up a rather large wound just above my thumb. It’s funny, what happens the moment after an accident. My first response is always denial. “Oh. That didn’t really happen.” Next, I try to minimize it, hoping the damage will be miraculously undone. In this case, I w...
Nearly every day I talk to my friend the tree. There, I’ve said it. Every day I take the same walk into the woods; I see changes in the forest throughout the year and, at about the halfway point, I see my friend the tree, waiting for me. “Hey,” I say. The tree greets me. (It’s subtle, but I see it.) There was a time in my life when I might have been embarrassed to admit I talked to a tree. Heck, there was a time in my life when nearly everything embarrassed me. I would stand at my kitchen sink, washing dinner dishes and rev...
One of the lovely things about being a writer is that I can work in my pajamas if I want. (For the record: I do not — although what I wear could easily double for pajamas in a pinch.) The not-so-lovely part is that I am almost always alone and have few opportunities for making friends. I sit at my little desk and look out my second-story window all day and, for some reason, no one climbs up the side of the house and knocks on the window to make my acquaintance. It is really disappointing. To make matters worse, I was r...
I cleaned out my sock drawer the other day. I realize this probably doesn’t qualify as big news, but it was cathartic for me. It turns out I had accumulated a large selection of socks that fell into one of three categories: socks that were technically fine but hadn’t been worn in years, socks that had reached their expiration date, and socks I liked — bunched up in the front of the drawer where I could find them. My sister gave me a nice pair of socks for Christmas and when I finally got around to putting them away, I saw t...
I’ll tell you what no one wants to talk about: their toes. I could get people to discuss intimate details of their financial or their love lives before they would open up about their feet. Oh, sure, there are exceptions. “I just had my first pedicure of the season!” says a friend of mine, showing off her toes with a stylish French manicure in a pair of bright red sandals. I am also wearing sandals and make sure my feet are hidden under my chair as I compliment her lovely toes. (Lovely toes! I think. Who has lovely toes over...
