Snow Job

Child. 

It's that magical time in Atlanta where there is a threat of snow. And by threat of snow, I need you to know, that there only needs to be the threat of one snow flake for the city to lose it. You have probably seen the coverage of our grocery stores wherever you live. Shelves are BARE as if we live in Colorado and are expecting an avalanche. My Doordash delivery lady had to make some hard decisions yesterday. There was hardly anything left at the store, especially when it came to the off brand stuff. However, I am excited to try the that $8 bread I've been wanting to try for so long. There was no other bread on the available!!

It's in the winter when I am most grateful to live in the South. I saw some downright outrageous videos of Northerns literally snowed into their homes and cars sliding and crashing on expressways. There were women, WOMEN, wearing pounds of coats and scarves, attempting to shovel their driveways with snow coming up to their knees! No ma'am! 

There is a 90% chance of snow today. Don't get too excited. Our snow rarely sticks. The most determined kid can hardly make a suitable snowman. That doesn't stop the city from shutting down like some type of NYC apocalyptic ice storm is upon us. School is cancelled. People are buying gasoline like they need enough to drive to the moon. We've discussed the over shopping. You would think the world is ending. 

And it's not. Not today anyway. Like every other ATAlien, I will be locked in the house watching Netflix, nibbling on snacks. If you are here, I suggest you do the same. There will be inevitable drama outside. Y'all be safe! 

Hopes and Dreams

I'm a few days into being 40 and I have to say that I am adjusting into it like a pair of church shoes three sizes too small. Some women hit 40 and it's just another year, but it really is a milestone for me. I am now in the perfect position to look back and see clearly all the mistakes I have made and all the things I didn't get done. And in doing so I now find myself wondering if I should continue to try to make my dreams come true or just give up, cut my losses, and try to make some real money before I end up retiring with nothing. I could become one of those unfortunate seniors who has to get a roommate and move into an extended stay motel. At some point, is it just best to let your hopes and dreams go?

I want to say yes, but I'm not so sure. My dreams of becoming a world famous author have kept the lights on in my heart since I was 6! How do I now transition into trying to figure something else out? The thought is exhausting and pressing now that I'm old enough to be a victim of age discrimination. I look forward to the day where I'm told I'm too old to file papers or pick up trash on the side of the expressway. Devoid of the teaspoon of energy and optimism I had as a younger woman, I can't imagine the mental fortitude it's going to take to make it now. 

On top of this, writing is dying. Pretty soon, everything written that we read, down to the subtitles on a commercial, will be written by AI. I will be the first to say I can't compete with a computer! 

As I need to find a way to make bigger money, I can't imagine my life without trying to fulfill my hopes and dreams. It's a get published or die trying type of deal. How fun it's going to be trying to make it with the ticking of a grandfather clock in my ear. The Arthur theme song says, "Believe in yourself! That's the place to start!" We'll see. 

Happy New Year!!

2025 is here y'all, and I am proud to announce that I did not go out. Nope! Once upon a time, a 20-something year old Holly would have weighed paying a bill on time with buying a ticket to some stuffy Atlanta hotel party with no guaranteed seating. You know the type. A standing room only affair with no food and a DJ no one has heard of. Tonight, you could not have paid me to go out. I had a sparkling grape juice toast with my family, watched The Peach Drop on TV, talked to Haynes, then went to bed. Funny, the last time I went Downtown to see The Peach Drop, gunshots rang out before the concert started, and everyone ran. This was after a man dressed like Jesus with a homemade cross on his back told my gay homegirls they were going to hell. Ah, memories. Anywho, Happy New Year!!

No New Friends?

Someone wants to be my friend. 

I find myself being low-end annoyed and high -end shocked. Lord knows my actual friends have had it with me. I've been forwarded to voicemail more than a baby mama during tax refund time. I'm admittedly and comfortably negative and dark. From my understanding, being too involved with me can be too much. So someone new wanting to be my friend is also confusing. 

But she does. 

She is always checking in with me. She's very nice and seemingly kind. Yes, confusion is the word. 

I think I have this attitude about this whole thing because I don't even want to be my friend anymore. My days are a dizzying collection of deep breaths and weeping. I'm so over me that I recently Googled "How to dump yourself". To say I'm not a happy camper is an understatement. So why would anyone want to be around me? This lady seems cool. Shouldn't she be taking pictures on a boat with her homegirls in matching swimsuits?? So many of my girls have taken that boat pic in matching swimsuits! There are no swimsuits over here. Just a 32 oz Chick-fil-A lemonade and my laptop. 

Man, I used to love making friends and being social. Now the very thought makes me so exhausted I can't breathe. Stay tuned! Something tells me a friendship bracelet may be coming my way soon! 

Part 2

I turned 40 last week, so I guess I'm in the second half of my life. I'm not going to lie kids: a week in and it's not going so well. 

I hurt my knee which has me hobbling around the house like a senior citizen. Keep in mind that I moved slowly with very little grace to begin with. Now I do this kind of slide, shake, and drag move to get to the laundry room. It's about as cute as something not cute can be. 

And if I could be really personal with you I'd like to say that I REALLY need a shower. Taking one today has anxiety shooting through the top of my head. I'm trying not to imagine my knee going out, me slamming into the shower glass, and a huge shard going through my chest and killing me instantly like something out of Final Destination. 

I also need to bite the bullet and finally get glasses. I was prescribed them when I was 18, but they did not properly accentuate the hairstyle I had at the time, so I tossed them. Now I'm ten minutes from being Mrs. Magoo. 

God has blessed me with another year of life when so many people I loved have died. So I want my Part 2 to be something amazing and beautiful. I want success and wealth and to have a plan for my life that takes me someplace. And I know I can do it but right now, I'm on the struggle bus. 

Optimistic that tomorrow will be better because I have no other choice. And people say that I don't have a heart of gratitude. 

Disappointed vs. Devastated

My friend K.Dot is an awesome hot-hot lady. She is classy. She is smart. She is pretty. She is kind. With all of these great traits, it should be no surprise that it has been hard for her to find love in Atlanta. I feel like people all over America are aware of how Stephen King dating is in this city. However, she is 36, single, and ready to mingle. 

If you think that dating is rough on a woman in the world, try dating in the church. That is a whole 'nother level of stress! People want to know what has happened, or what is "wrong" when you haven't gotten hitched by a certain time. While other single women at our church may be biting their nails, K. Dot is taking a more relaxed approach. 

"Will you be upset if you never get married?" I asked. 

She thought about it before saying, "I will be disappointed, but I won't be devastated."

Something about this remark seemed so profound to me. Disappointed but not devastated. Interesting. 

Maybe this wording was so striking because in my life, when confronted with anything, I go right past disappointed and crash into devastating. This is a big deal, because when something is devastating,  getting over it feels insurmountable. When you are disappointed, you sit in that ache for a minute, then you move on. There are so many things I need to move on from. 

I don't make new year resolutions anymore. They'd never come to pass, and I'd end up pissed at myself. But if I had to have one this year, it would be to be disappointed. There is freedom in it and room for correction. Hopefully this new way of thinking will bring joy and success into my life. If not, I will be devastated. 

Big Like The Earth

I don't know what switched on in my 6 year old nephew's head, but he has finally realized I'm fat. 

"Holly, you are big like the Earth," he said, matter-of-factly as he ate MY snacks. 

Then later that week, as I sat minding my own business, trying to swallow down a low calorie salad bowl, he waltzes in my room and announces, "If you keep eating like that, you are gonna be overweight." 

"Really?" I snorted, trying to pick the last piece of unseasoned meat out of the bowl. "Tell me about it." 

He also likes to lean against me while I'm working because I, "Feel like a big pillow."

His remarks don't hurt my feelings or upset me. He is just a kid making observations. But they do annoy me. For the first time in my life I am seriously trying to do better. I could do without the commentary.  

Recently I hurt my knee and need a walker to get to the bathroom and back. It's not cute, which I'm painfully aware of. As I'm trying to get my footing using it he goes, "Hey Holly, old people use those too."

I took a deep breath then continued to struggle drag my way to the toilet. 

The truth is, I am big like the Earth. And hopefully, a year or two from now, if the aliens haven't come, my life will be a testimony to my nephew of what happens when you work hard and decide to make a change in your life. I would like my nephew to see me have energy, something I've never had. I want him to see me run, something I've always wanted to do. I want 40 years of fatness to be a distant memory for an Instagram reel. By the time he's nine, I want him to be like, "Holly, do you remember that time you were big?" And we will both laugh about that time so long ago because by then, I will be fit like a baddy.