But FIRST... I have a question for my blog friends.
How do you organize your blog postings?
Do you write them all at once a week before
and schedule them throughout the week?
Do you have some type of system
to make a note of when you think of a really great blog topic?
Any ideas would be great.
NOW... on with my likes. I like... no, lets make that love...
Cold peanut butter M&Ms.
The smell of freshly cut grass.
Monster Lo-Carb Energy Drinks.
Those good 'ole Clemson Tigers.
(Even when they break my heart.)
Unexpected phone calls from old friends.
Back country roads with the windows rolled down, the wind in my hair, and the music blasting through the speakers. (It is hands down the number one thing I miss about Dillon, my hometown.)
Hearing I love you's from my nephews and nieces.
Smelling a random scent that takes me back to my childhood.
A few of my own:
The smell of Avon Skin So Soft takes me back to Camp Pine Hill... smother in the stuff to keep away the mosquitos on a hot summer night. Taking the quiet walk down pebble roads to a lake where we would witness the famous Thursday night skit of Jesus' crusifixtion (where my brother played the role of Jesus & hit me on a whole 'nother level, let me tell you.) And to later sit around a bonfire with my closest friends, sharing stories about our walk with Him... and simply being moved to tears... and my cup surely runneth over.
The smell of banana pudding takes me back to weekends at my granny and granddaddy's. I remember making a huge batch one day, only to drop it on the floor (typical me) and the pudding went flying, stuck to the ceiling (& my mother's hair), and I laughed with my family until we were all brought to tears.
The smell of old dusty buildings takes me back to Sunday School at my old church and running rampant around my elementary school while I waited impatiently for my mother to get off work.
Dogs. All dogs.
Dancing and singing.
Hippies. The music, the peace, the clothes, the hair, the groovy-ness of it all.
Sitcoms. Sitcoms. Sitcoms. Reality TV is for the birds.
The real, raw truth. Memoirs... and journals. And biographies about real people struggling with drugs or mental illness of life wrenching, life changing stuff... and being in complete awe of their strength to move on.
Freckles and scars and the stuff that makes us unique.
Drinking out of plastic cups. No glass, plastic only.
Telling corny jokes. Hearing laughter over something silly I've said is the stuff my dreams are made of.
T-shirts, cut off's, and flip flops. I'd wear nothing but that every single day if I could. You can keep the dresses.
And to be quite honest, digging out toe jam.