Bellwether Vance
Hounds to the Left of me/Jokers to the Right
Bellwether Vance
- Location
- bellwethervance@gmail.com,
- Birthday
- December 31
- Bio
- You'd like me. People like me.
MY RECENT POSTS
- The Empty Next
March 04, 2013 11:08PM - My Olympic Season
August 02, 2012 09:04AM - All Will be Made Clear
May 25, 2012 08:46AM - Saddle Up, Cowgirls
May 01, 2012 06:29AM - If the Creek Don't Rise
April 10, 2012 09:06AM
MY RECENT COMMENTS
- “Popping in! Just the
sweetest thing!
Mesmerizing.”
May 10, 2013 07:14PM - “Oh, he'll call you on
it. And then you'll write a
post about
it!”
March 13, 2013 06:42PM - “I can only imagine the
fervor and celebration among
Hispanic
Catholics. I
don't…”
March 13, 2013 06:35PM - “A thoughtful piece.
Motherhood changed me, and not
always in
ways that
benefited…”
March 13, 2013 06:24PM - “Came to this after the
smoke of a new pope and feel
it now in
a myriad of
ways.”
March 13, 2013 06:16PM
Bellwether Vance's Links
- MY LINKS
- The First Day of My Life, An Obit
- Southern Happy Food, A Recipe
- A Raccoon Tale
- (Really) Personal Banking
- Once Upon an Irish Soda Bread Scone
- The Good Scissors
- Sweet Dreams, Great Teacher
- The South's Last Shotgun Wedding
- The Butterbean Women, A Recipe
- Boat and Goat Farms
- Where should I hang this painting?
- What in the hell is Edwin McCain singing about?
- Fiction Friday: Hammered
- Oysters, A Love Story and a Recipe
- Loveless is a Place
- Into the Bear's Mouth
- My Sundae with Jesus
- Ode to Loretta Lynn (with Dogs)
- Good Night Lexapro, Good Morning OS
- Pudding: In Which Baby Alive is a Vessel
- Goody Two Shoes
- Stew for an Eskimo Wet T-Shirt Contest
- On Giving My Boss Ass Shots
- A Sublime Accident
- How Floridians Handle a Cold Snap
- Your Christmas Puppy
- I Slept with Tiger Woods
I’m reading James Patterson’s newest novel. Lately, his books have been written by a sock puppet on the paw of the world’s dumbest Irish Setter. My reading material should give you insight as to where I am right now, how my brain feels starchy, like it’s full of mashed p… Read full post »
AUGUST 2, 2012 9:05AM
My Olympic Season
On the first day of summer rec, the boys were lined up on one
wall and the girls on another. The male coaches divided the boys
into teams, soccer and basketball. The female coaches looked
down the line of girls to determine potential for the girly
activities – gymnastics,… Read full post »
MAY 25, 2012 8:47AM
All Will be Made Clear
There were so many words we were not allowed to say (not just
the obvious ones) and gestures that were considered too vulgar for
our body parts to participate in communicating them. We couldn't
point, or stick our tongues out. We couldn't say "shut up" or call
someone… Read full post »
I heard that Kendra is bringing chips and salsa to Sue's Cinco
de Mayo party. So I call Mary Tom and say, "Can you believe Kendra
is bringing chips and salsa to the party?"
Mary Tom pretends to be outraged. "Well the salsa had better
be homemade. That's all… Read full post »
Since before dawn, Daddy's been tending to the brisket like
it's a colicky beefbaby. Much later, with everyone waiting, plates
outheld, he uses an electric knife and cuts down through the layers
of crusty seasoning, white fat and tender meat. This is his
favorite recipe, the best he has to offer… Read full post »
Have you ever been so mad, so violently angry, that your upper
and lower teeth started biting each other and you had to put a
stick in your mouth to keep them separated? I have.
It's Spring Break, 1984, and I'm on a road trip with Ellen and
our friends… Read full post »
I hope I never get a total on the number of hours I spend
watching awful television. Utilizing that time productively I could
have cured cancer with lentils (it is possible!), mastered another
language, or at least learned to order off the menu of our favorite
Thai restaurant without cracking up… Read full post »
What doesn't kill us makes us stronger. That's the plucky
platitude from Nietzsche, of all people, who also declared "God is
dead." Attempting to annihilate a professional nihilist is
presumptuous, but I think my version is truer and bleaker: What
doesn't kill us will try again.
I know the manner… Read full post »
I can't remember who gave us the hamsters, Brownie and Blackie
(guess what color they were?), and the ten gallon tank that served
as their home. My recollections are dim, censored, fraught with
Freudian undertones.
The hamsters were two of a succession of pets that were
deliberately not a pupp… Read full post »
I'm not naturally pensive, or I say I'm not. I've been
chirping so long I've lost my lower register, maybe never allowed
it to develop, and who's to say if my natural song is canary or
whale? In any case, I don't inhabit unhappiness comfortably.
It is common for happy… Read full post »
My father-in-law passed away last week. He'd only partially
recovered from a stroke in March and when it became obvious his
life wasn't the shit it once was, we hoped he wouldn't linger too
long in a truly crappy state of being, while at the same time we
dreaded his final… Read full post »
Every morning I saw my mother tease her hair into a
floss that floated at least six inches above her scalp. At the
height of it you could look through into other worlds, her hair
filtering the light like a church window. So I stole the comb and
sat my brother… Read full post »
The idea took shape after a dispute with my husband regarding
distribution of labor, wherein I cried, "You are so
spoiled! You think everyone has two soups to choose from!"
A ridiculous statement that nevertheless allowed me to win the
argument and spawned a dream.
I have a fridge full… Read full post »
I'd never heard my father hiss like that, with such force. Not
the slow stream of air from a leaking tire, a despairing deflation,
annoyance at one thing or another, my tenth refusal to buckle
my sandals or let anyone else do it for me. This was a burst
of venom,… Read full post »
Make plans now to attend Mule Day! Mule Day is held the
first Saturday in November in Calvary, Georgia, a tiny town north
of Tallahassee, just across the Florida state line, between Havana
and Cairo. My fear-of-flying self thinks -- Georgia also has a
Rome! Why would anyone need to leave… Read full post »
If you've ever picked peas, you know that pea picking minutes
are some of the longest in existence. I'm told only cotton picking
minutes are longer, but I have no experience with cotton and pea
picking minutes are plenty long enough.
These are pea picking minutes: The sleep is still… Read full post »
JULY 14, 2011 9:25AM
Goodbye Girl
Picking up her food bowl, that was hard. I left it down for
days. A week later, while shopping online, I was prompted for a
password. For more than a decade I've used her name, or a version
of it, to buy yoga pants, spices, books and music. I knew I… Read full post »
My Odysseus set sail last September
on a twenty-seven foot, forty-year-old, triple keel sailboat
named The Albatross. I suggested he rename it
Safe Passage, Home in One Piece or Mama Said
No. "It's bad luck to change the name of a boat," he
said, and anyway, he liked the name. He/… Read full post »
Sandy runs the Asian Market downtown. I think of her as my
Thai doppelganger. We're the same size and shape, and about the
same age. We have small oval faces that square at the jaw, and
similar haircuts -- dark bobs with bangs. Her studious,
black-rimmed glasses could be exchanged for… Read full post »
The woman selling the treadmill tells me it belonged to her
husband Richard. Six weeks ago, he collapsed in the Walmart parking
lot and hit his head. She runs her finger in an arc from her temple
to behind her ear to illustrate the length of the incision doctors
made to… Read full post »
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The family moving in next door had a daughter my age. Her name
was Darla Larson, and seeing the Barbie Dream House coming off the
moving truck, I knew we'd be best friends. Standing in the
driveway, my mother and Mrs. Larson made friendly small talk. My
father and Mr. Larson,… Read full post »
On the last day of my sixth-grade year, I waited outside Mrs.
Barber's busy classroom for my turn to say goodbye, to give her the
book of Robert Frost poems I'd purchased with my allowance. Next
year I'd begin Junior High, far from the protective gaze of my
mother and her… Read full post »
One thing keeps me from being insufferably smug about all the
vegetables and fruits I eat. That one thing is fish. Other
than beer and lying, fish is my only vice. While I can't eat
calves, lamb, piglets, chicks or their grown-up counterparts, fish
remains something I can't not eat.
A few years ago, we invited our new neighbors, Evan and Nora
and their two young daughters, to a Mardi Gras parade. I explained
our strategy, how we'd arrive early, take up posts at the beginning
of the parade route, before the street widened from two lanes to
four to six,… Read full post »
The streets of our neighborhood are clear; the driveways
contain cars I recognize, no out-of-state plates. The visitors --
the parents, the children, the college students, the grandchildren
– have all gone home.
On my morning walk I follow their scat: Spent bottle rockets
and twined rows… Read full post »
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