SmithShack71

"webs that held the raindrops"

2015-07-09T09:18:00.000-05:00

I tweeted a photo to a couple of people a few weeks ago because I felt bad for them. They had flown to their friend's bedside to be with him for what they knew would be his last breaths. Life was leaving. The most precious thing was there, and then it wasn't. It was heavy and beautiful time spent.

Neil wrote a bit about it, about the daylight and what he saw. He saw "webs that held the raindrops". My heart ached for them, these people I've never met and do not really know. I remembered I had recently taken a photograph of this very thing just a couple weeks before. I tweeted that photo to them. Me. Just a girl living in the woods, who rarely sees a lot of people. Who has never done anything grand other than my two kids, and they are the grandest.

So I tweeted this photo, to which Neil saw it and retweeted it. Now, it's always good for kicks to be noticed, liked, retweeted and whatever, but this time it was the real deal connection. I didn't tell anyone about it. I kept it in my pocket. I felt like and hoped that my picture along with his words would bring them a bit of peace. I believe it did.

I've shouted about fun retweets before, but this wasn't for fun. This was for healing. This was out of love. Kindness. Empathy. Friendship. Honesty. This was for what I believe we human beings are designed to do and be.

I'm sharing this now only because I think we can all use the reminder from time to time. Be that human being, people. You never know how far your words will go. Some things in life really, really matter and some don't at all. Don't get caught up in the things that don't.

Could I have said all of this without sharing this personal story about a tweet? Yes.
Do I maybe still feel a little shady about putting it out there now, and like I will most likely be judged for it in some way? Sure.

But I thought I would prove my words this time. You never know how far what you're saying will go. I'm just a girl living in the woods. On the daily I may see six people, sometimes fewer, but my words and the image I chose to share went beyond that. Try to make your gift of life count for something good and meaningful.

-Angie

complex simplicity

2015-06-22T08:02:00.002-05:00

They want to chase their big dreams.

They want to be hobos.

They want to be free and shine.

They laugh and live and want never to grow old.

They want complex simplicity.

They are 12.

And this 43 year old can completely relate.

-Angie

break from the norm

2015-06-16T10:34:00.000-05:00

This is why we're drawn to the fair. When you walk in and see the colors and the lights, and smell the sweet smell of funnel cake and cotton candy. The wind is coming from the rides. The music is loud and fun. Little kids laugh and run. It's bright and vivid, and the excitement builds as you drive closer and the night sky is brightened with all that awaits. A break from the norm.

Eventually, the lights start to cast long, dark shadows, the music turns to the hum of a carnival nightmare; gloomy and dim. Carnies bark at adults to play the games and they yell at kids, and babies cry. It all starts to swim around in a dizzying spin. When you walk out you may catch a whiff of regurgitated funnel cake. It ain't so sweet then. It can have the air of Wrong Turn. If you haven't seen that movie, don't watch it. It's horrifying.

Then it's over. You bid it farewell in the rear view. You know the good outweighs the bad, and you know you'll do it all again next year.

-Angie

overrated

2015-06-11T09:54:00.000-05:00

Being a grownup is highly overrated.

I must do stuff and I get to do stuff.

I only get to do the stuff I want because I do the things I must.

I like get better than must.

I guess it all works out.

Ever say a word like get or must, and it starts to sound like it's not a word?

Yeah, that's happening right now.

-Angie

flip of the coin

2015-06-08T12:10:00.001-05:00

I almost deleted Facebook the other day out of sheer boredom. Probably a flip of the coin would've decided whether or not to continue even writing here.

It's different than being stuck or having some sort of writer's block. It's quiet and without care. It's bizarre is what it is.

Going from needing to write something down to find some peace, to not writing anything and peacefully not having a second thought about it is really weird. And yet, not weird enough for me to sweat it. It's just... meh.

I've been writing here for three years and loving it. I almost shut it all down a few days ago. Kind of the same way I've exited a party, slip out the door when no one is paying attention. I don't know. There's something going on in me. A movement. A change. A slight ripple that could lead to the waterfall. I'm not ready to dam it up yet. I've just got my feet dug in the sand feeling the current.

-Angie

shack saturday

2015-05-30T06:55:00.000-05:00

Happy Saturday, Shackers!

-Angie

rock. pavement. water.

2015-05-27T08:00:00.000-05:00

Life, so unbelievably awesome. Look at the joy in this photo. Take it with you. On those days that you're smooth sailing until you hit a rock and it trips you and sends you tumbling towards the pavement for what feels like certain death -- take the time to rest and recover, and then get back up and go for it again. Find the thing that makes you happy. There are good times and bad. A rock could send you tumbling, or it could be skipped gleefully across clear, smooth waters.

May your rocks be pebbles, your pavement clear, and your waters like glass.

-Angie

digging, building, growing. tyler graduated. i choked. we laugh.

2015-05-25T11:36:00.001-05:00

My head has been busy and I haven't been able to focus on one thing for a week. I've sat down to write, and I know the tune, but I can't remember the words. So after staring at a keyboard or going mindlessly from web page to web page looking for the unknown lyrics, I got up and did things. I stayed busy; my mind busier.

I'm generally not a crier, but last week I cried twice. I was happy, sad, angry, and nervous, and I cried. Now I'm home alone in my happy place. Everything is calm. The emotion is mellow.

The ground was concrete hard and threatened to break the shovel. I had hit gravel and no worms. Oh shit, this isn't going to be easy. I tossed the shovel and grabbed the hoe. No use. After looking to the google gods and working on the tiller that refused to start, I cried. My brother comes home next month, we're both dreaming of fresh food, and I couldn't get a start on it. I felt angry, defeated and sad, and more sad for him.

Then a lot of rain fell, along with my tears. I picked up the shovel again. The earth was rich and the worms were plenty. I still had no tiller, but I had that shovel and hoe, and I worked both til my back ached and my hands blistered and callused. The tears dried and the sweat fell.

Jolie helped me rake dirt around and set the plants. Tyler and I raised a fence around our little plot to keep the deer out. He would say, This isn't tight enough, or, That isn't straight enough..., and I was all, This is PERFECT! NObody ANYwhere has a more perfect fence than THIS. I love it so much.

I came home from work to find that Tyler had gone into the woods, found a fallen tree and secured a post to the fence to make more of a handle to swing the fence open and close. It was such a gift.

Mostly I slept solid last week. Exhausted. My mind was still buzzing. I pulled and hacked weeds. I watched bees swarm the clover. I didn't mow because of the bees. I was going to, but there were so many of them everywhere. The queen had sent them out on their missions that day, I suppose, and so how could I mow? I couldn't. I didn't.

School let out for the summer for Jolie, Tyler was graduating, and I felt like I couldn't breathe. All of those years watching him grow, and being a little sad at the beginning of each new school year, because I knew how fast those years would go by, had now finally come to graduation. I was choking on it.

At first he had chosen not to walk for graduation. He didn't want to do the whole dance that comes with it all. I told him I would like for him to, but it would be fine either way, that, that was between him and his diploma. He had earned it and that's all that really mattered. In the end he chose to walk, and that made me happy. He can tuck that memory in his pocket, and just as aged things become more precious, so that memory will become for him.

I recognized, celebrated, and applauded his first baby steps, and I did it again, along with so many other mommas, as he was called by his full name, a rare thing to happen on a good occasion, as he walked strong across that stage tall and grown. I didn't cry, but man, my heart pounded.

The first day of school his senior year I cried as I watched him walk in. We laughed when he walked out the last day. We always did on those last days of school. Celebrating Summer. Summer means everything is more relaxed. It means they're home with me. This summer will be no different, but I don't know what will come after that. I still sometimes choke. We laugh.

My head isn't as busy now and I can name that tune. So far, we're all coming home, we're still digging and building ourselves stronger, and growing.

-Angie

shack saturday

2015-05-23T08:22:00.003-05:00

Happy Saturday, Shackers!

-Angie

this is a sweet deal for my locals

2015-05-18T12:04:00.000-05:00

Hey Friends!

Just a post to say that I shoot people.

And animals.

And landscapes.

Posed.

Candid.

Your favorite spot in the yard.

Here's the deal.

Some of the sweetest moments happen when they aren't planned, when everyone is relaxed and doing what they love to do. Whether you're gardening, having a family cookout, playing in the water, blowing bubbles, dancing, making art, or just sitting, reading a book with your favorite fur baby curled by your side...

these are the sweet spot moments.

If you're interested, contact me. I'm flexible with time and payment.

I'll come to where you are (within some limits) and shadow you and your family for an hour, give or take, and capture some moments in your life.

The sweet times.

Stop an hour on the clock for a minute.

Here's the other deal. Money.

(I speak with perfected experience when I say not everyone can afford whatever.

Because I've been there. I'm there now.)

You gift me the payment you can.

And I'll gift you a cd of photos.

Easy.

Scroll down to see some of my work.

Contact

atjsmith71 at gmail.com

-Angie

happy haters? later, cuz.

2015-05-17T08:14:00.000-05:00

A photo of dishes. Because I didn't have a pic to go with this post. Sometimes dishes are clean and sometimes they are not. Like me.

So here's the problem, and it ain't me. Unless the problem is humor and happy shit. Then yes, I'm the problem.

As far as Facebook and the followers I have there goes: Facebook sends me a notification sometimes saying something like, Your So-and-So post is outperforming your other posts by 90%. Usually I'm like, That's cool. But this time I was all, What the fuck? Because a lot of times I say fuck. And also because at the same time I got that notification, I noticed that I had lost two followers.

I wrote a thing about being pissed off at Facebook. It had the word genitalia in the title. It was the 90% post notification deal. It got multiple views and I lost two followers. Like, what did those two people think they were fixing to read about that they even clicked on it? And seriously... it was nothing. There was a photo that had the word fuck in it a few times. Maybe that was it.

I wrote a deal about having the most beautiful day with my son, and I titled it something along those lines. It was full to the freaking rim of lovely photos. It got maybe a few views. Like, nobody wants to hear about a good day? No! They want GENITALIA.

I'm figuring two things - People love trash and they love to be haters. And to those people I say, Adios, Primos. Which loosely translates to "Later, Cuz." I'm going to always keep it real. Except for in my land of imagination. I'm wide open. After all this time of writing, if someone can't see what my writing is about, what I'm about, then hit it, Jack.

Maybe it wasn't the word fuck at all. Maybe people hate wonky, happy vibes? Happy Haters? Can it be?? I don't know. I'm perplexed. I'm also care free.

-Angie

east or west - a hike with my boy

2015-05-16T10:49:00.000-05:00

When I was 16 I took off on my horse out behind this house through the woods and came up on the lake that I didn't even know was there. I only did it that one time, and I had no idea how to get back to the house. I gave my horse the reigns and he led us home. Now I'm 43, and I gave my son the reigns.

Hey Bub, when you wake up in a little bit let's go find that lake.
A little later he got up and was groggy.
Did you say you wanna go find the lake? Behind the house?
Yes!

I threw some water and jerky in a backpack, some tick spray on our jeans, and off we went.
We walked through tall weeds and open skies in the back yard to the woods out back and we were swallowed up by the trees, vines, and briers. The tops of the trees sang as the wind in the air was high.

These trees gathered in for a family portrait.

The air down low was still, warm, and muggy. Mosquitoes swarmed if we were still. We kept moving. You don't feel the heat as much either if you keep moving. We kept the pace of one foot in front of the other, swaying in and out of the spaces between the trees like ballroom dancers. Other times there were thickets, and we parted the branches and stepped in head first with our steps to follow.

We jumped in and out of gullies. We bent low through branches and vines, and we finessed our way through briers. We stepped over alligator roots and fallen trees. We wiped some sweat and some spiderwebs from our faces. We can both navigate the steps with ease, he can navigate direction with more ease. He broke through the webs more than I did.

Other than a deer trail we stayed on for a little bit until the deer went East and we needed to go West, there were no trails except for the fresh turnover of leaves we left under our steps. The woods are deep and quiet except for a bird's song and the occasional wind through the tops. There were lots of tracks and probably lots of eyes on us. We minded our business, and they theirs. We went up and down hills for about a mile when we came upon a clearing.

Tyler - You see that far line of trees way over there?
Me - Yes. (With some dread. It looked to be 15 miles away)
Tyler - That's the other side of the lake.
Me - Right on. We are so close.

We knew we were close because we could feel wind. Like, real wind. The clearing was only a few steps and we dipped back into the woods. It was so thick it was hard to decide where to take a first step. And so you just say, Right here. Let's go. And you go. Then it got really fun.

We knew it was going to drop off into the lake. I mean, you can just tell. The wind is different. The air. The smell. You just know. But this hill, man. It was large and in charge. It was steep. We planted our feet sideways and dug in steady to stay at least at a slant with the ground.

The ground was exactly as what we had already hiked, except for now brick sized lake rocks lay beneath the leaves, grass and moss. There was some sliding going on down that hill.

Then through the trees we started to see water. It was like being 16 again. Passing by a mile's worth of trees spun my equilibrium. I nearly fell over three times while standing in one spot. We sat on roots at the water's edge, looked back at that hill and talked about climbing back up. We sat some more.

The climb back up had us digging in with our toes straight ahead. Muscles aching. Hands on the ground in front of us for a boost. A standing crawl. That hill nearly killed me with its awesomeness.

An eagle soared over the canopy of leaves. The pines stretched. The smell of dry pine needles choked us and the smell of a skunk made us take another, more serious, look around.

I stopped a few times to say - Look at this. Look at that. Did you see this? And he the same.
Yeah - He'd say.
From a fox den, to deer tracks, to a perfectly designed silvery, glistening web, to tiny holes dug in the dirt, to fungus growing on trees...
His words echoed my own words that I've many times said to him.
Yeah. Always be aware of your surroundings, mom. Always know what's going on around you.

The pavement of the patio back at the house felt strange. Sea legs and all that. The woods felt like home away from home, but better. No worries in there. Getting lost and finding our way again. Connecting with ourselves and each other and every thing.

So... we don't know if a beaver sneezed, or if it's beaver sperm. We just don't know. Remains a mystery to us. A gross one.

Tyler totally found a peace bottle.

Me and my boy.

Tyler and I talk about the deep stuff all the time. The real stuff can be a real downer. This hike was the break. The woods are our break. We talked about what was right in front of us, above us, below us. And really, much of the time, we didn't talk. We just were. Only a couple miles or so long, but long enough to last years.

-Angie

shack saturday

2015-05-16T07:37:00.004-05:00

Happy Saturday, Shackers!

-Angie

rusted robot genitalia

2015-05-14T18:02:00.000-05:00

So I sent this message to Facebook today in hopes that they would fix the problem. I'd already sent several other, much more politically correct, messages, but I guess they're on vacation? This problem happened once before and they fixed it rather quickly. But I think this time they're on a drunken vacation.

I really like the News Feed for my managed page. It's not anything like the shit hole I've apparently dug for myself on my personal News Feed. It's a little getaway.

Whatever little demon robots running Facebook are having an orgy somewhere, and everywhere that I've linked my page to is breaking up with me. It's causing problems. I have enough problems. If I get booted from Facebook because of this, and by chance they actually allow you to see this before that happens, then you'll know why I'm not there anymore.

I got really tired of the problems. And I didn't even get invited to the drunken vacation. I hope their robotic genitalia rusts.

-Angie

shack saturday

2015-05-09T08:20:00.000-05:00

Happy Saturday, Shackers!

-Angie

pissed off pink mothereffin lipstick

2015-05-07T13:42:00.000-05:00

I mowed the front yard last night until the stars were well into twinkling. I mowed it twice because it had gotten so high. I kept hoping I wouldn't get snake bit. I kept pushing the mower in what I hoped was a straight line, kicking through mounded wafts of grass.

It's a pretty big yard and it can get outta hand pretty quick.

Today I mowed the garden. I hoed a small part of it until I was pissed off. I want a tiller and I want a lawn mower that I ride and not push. The sun was boiling hot, my back hurt, I was hungry, I was getting blisters, and I'd barely started.

Sometimes I think... I can't be the landscaper, the writer, the photographer, the gardener, the house cleaner, and then my own house cleaner, AND be the mom. I mean, it's a lot. Shitload lot.

Then I smack myself. Bitch, please.

I think about my great-grandparents, Ma and Pa, back in the day with their garden - That they had to have for food, by the way. (At the rate I'm going we'll starve.) Pa had a mule hitched to a plow, and then Ma would keep it hoed from there. They had seven kids that, I'm guessing, Ma mostly handled that raising role. She washed clothes on one of those scrub boards, hung them on the line to dry, raised all those babies, kept house, grew and shelled and canned food. She did it well. Probably not many breaks. She sure didn't go sit in the house in front of a fan and bitch about it on a blog.

I wonder if Ma got pissed off. I'm sure she did, but she just did the work.

I'm going to hoe that garden now, and I'm going to do it wearing pink mothereffin lipstick. If I die out there I'll look good. Just let the sun cremate me. Hoe me into the ground. Don't get pissed. Just do it.

-Angie

rich, wonky leftovers

2015-05-04T18:53:00.001-05:00

I settle in for a movie. A vegetable.

Sometimes exhaustion shows up in the form of a mild depression. Maybe it's the other way around. It's no good either way. It can come with the king of headaches. Takes no prisoners.

The weekend was long and busy.

Hot wings for days.

Little girls instead of the planned houseful of boys - to men.

Leftovers.

Photos filled three day's space of time. Girls in glitz, and jeweled head to toe. Boys in slick suits. Hollywood showed up in Kentucky.

I found out that I was a part of something that received some of the highest of recognition, but recognition didn't come my way. No email. No call. Just a weird nod through the grapevine.
Just weird.

A letter came from lock down. Not much humor in that, but a laugh busted free from me from the words written on the page.

The extent of my personal social media is much like it is here, some photos with some wonky words. I think it's safe to say that I rarely get serious on social media. Coming out of the achy fog, I guess I felt punchy and I got pulled into the deal and gave an opinion on something of which no one had asked. The word fucktard may have been used. Most of me feels wrong for having posted whatever like that. Part of me doesn't give a shit.

Probably I should reverse that, because the part that doesn't give a shit won, and so that would be the most part. I hate confrontation. I don't give a shit. It's an ok way to be at times.

Fish was served lakeside with my girls. My girls save me all the time. I wonder if they even know. My Gammy is the queen of quick wit and hilarity. I break into an ugly laugh every time I'm around her. We all do. I love my Gammy so big. Bigger than all the loves.

Seemed like a small vacation. Good.

We were shy a momma, my niece, but we had the baby boy, my great nephew, for the day. He saves us all. You can not look at that face and be agitated about anything. We want to eat him. Oodles of sweetness. It took most of us to polish off dessert. Rich.

Life is rich like that. Sometimes it takes the lot of us to handle it, but it's good stuff.

I settled in for a movie...
Life in motion is always better, and you soak up every bit of the leftovers.

-Angie

shack saturday

2015-05-02T06:53:00.000-05:00

Happy Saturday, Shackers!

-Angie

open house at the shack

2015-04-30T06:44:00.000-05:00

I cleaned and shined the place up for some photos, and it all stayed in order for about as long as it took me to type this sentence.

We live here, yo.

It's good for this post, though, and so I hope you feel at interspaceweb home for a bit of an open house. And here we go...

Home is where you hang your hat, lay your head, where the shack/heart is, or something like that. For me and the kiddos, home is nestled in the woods of Western Kentucky in the house that my Grandaddy built, and where I spent weekends with my Gammy when I was little.

We've been here almost a year now. The house has good bones, and with several gallons of paint, some floors, some cleaning and some love... it's home.

The kitchen and living room are one open space. The light spills in and fills up the spaces. I painted everything white. Every single thing. And there are a few things that still need a paint brush; the back door, and a cabinet that I only primed and never got back around to actually painting.

Can you say Exhausted? And can you also say Sleeps like a baby? Because I was... and I do.

The light changes with the hours on the clock and everything takes on a new shade, and I dig that so much. Things reflect. The kitchen table is the same kitchen table we had dinner at when I was ten years old. It reflects memories, and with my own kids it reflects Easter Egg dye, tie-dye, paint, and markers. It wears it all well.

Since Spring is here I like to bring flowers in. They lose petals one day and then bloom some more the next. What is here year round are books. I have books all over the house. Some I've read, others are in line. There are never enough books and never enough time.

The floors are mostly down and finished. A strip will go down between the two rooms to smooth it out. The walls were orange. Orange. I like orange. Grandaddy loved it. He said it was his man cave, and he had seen it on Home and Garden. Well, I hadn't seen that show and I'm not a man, nor do I need a cave. It was a little bittersweet to make those, really much needed, changes after he was gone, but the end result is sweet.

There's a daybed in the living room which is where I camp out. My books, music, funky art here and there, and a filing cabinet. If I'm not inside here, then I'm outside on the porch.

I got rid of my dresser and I don't even know why I ever had one. I guess you're supposed to have a bedroom and a dresser. That's how normal people work that deal.

Hellooo, my not-all-the-way-normal self is waving from the corner.

I mean, I guess I'm normal. ? I'm pretty low maintenance.

I haven't had a haircut in about a year.
I don't have a lot of clothes. See filing cabinet. That's my closet.

And seriously, old metal filing cabinets - freaking awesome.

Also see blue pot to the right of filing cabinet. It holds my shoes. There are about three or four pairs of converse in there.

I have one huge cast iron skillet, and I can cook anything in that thing.

It's really beautiful. It's pretty simple, the living.

We get down with hard core facts and evidence, and sometimes we get down with things we can't see or understand.
I try not to label things, because I don't want to be labeled.
Things are ever changing.
Growing.

This place has lots of things that make me happy. Apparently, frogs make me happy. And primates.

Beat up wood, rust, and thrifted things are calming to me. It's good to mix some new things in with some old. This place is old, the paint is new. I'm getting older and I'm kind of new again to this place. I've cleaned and painted every inch of it, several times over, but I'll still run my hand along a knot in a wood beam, or feel the smoothness of where it was cut so many years ago.

The floor in the front entry isn't finished. It's rough, uneven concrete for now, and that will be a next, and last step as far as floors are concerned. And that step. A wooden box step that will get some sort of new clothes itself.

I love that step.

Something funky and colorful for that floor would be cool.
Funky and colorful aren't that easy to come by though, when everyone wants and shops the stores for the same grey
or beige
or tan
or neutral
stone or brick or wood
and so that's all they will sell
and oh my gawd I'm so b o r e d...

Maybe I'll paint it. Yes. Perhaps.

I scored an old metal tub bucket for notta when a woman I knew moved out of state and said, "Here, take this if you want it." And I said, "Chyeah. Thanks!"

Then it set outside and my son bumped it with the truck and put a mad dent in the side of it. And you know, when these things happen we chalk it up to... well, it gives it character. We don't sweat these things. We put bath towels in these things.

Sweet doorknobs, anyone? It looks old, but tis not. I did buy that at a real store like, five years ago. And while I don't have a picture of the door with a hole where there should be a doorknob, it exists. This will fill that hole, and I'm going to put one of those teeny little hook locks for the lock. That little detail makes me almost giddy.

Know what? I totally lied. I do have a picture of the hole in the door AND more frogs. I found it just as I was giving this a look over. Let's just keep it real.

Let's also be real about the fact that those masks aren't straight, and I know it may drive some of you crazy.
Don't look at it too long.
Look away.

I've cussed in languages that no one has even discovered yet when I've busted my thumb more than once with a hammer while working on this place.
Sometimes I don't even have to have a busted thumb.
I just do it.
I do it when I'm happy.
Busted thumbs have nothing to do with it, really.

I worked feverishly getting this place, this home, ready for us to live in and fill up, and then I took a long break.

We're settling in with the foundation. It's hard to not be romantic about it. Everything about it is a fairy tale to me. It's like being on vacation all the time. It's got the best vibe, and we love being here. You should love being at home, eh?

There is honesty, laughs, fun and love here. There's progress here.

It's fragile and it's bold. It's home.

Hope you enjoyed. Maybe next post I'll show you how we see how high we can balance a pile of laundry on a single chair.

-Angie

gold record on the wall

2015-04-29T07:31:00.003-05:00

Yesterday, and other days, Jolie was racing through Christmas songs. She's always sung Christmas songs all year long, which I love that about her, but sometimes she sings them as fast as she can. It can bring my soul to a panic pitch.

Opera styled, or something... something that would make wild dogs dig their own holes to bury themselves in, long wails of a howl fill in the spaces between the jingle bells or holly, and then it's back to the race. Sometimes she sings in the groan of a dried out skeleton - rattly and gurgly. It's all worthy of a gold record on the wall.

Yesterday I listened to this, always thinking she will stop on her own and always knowing that she is waiting for me to lose my shit, until I leaned over to her and was like, Really? Really??

She breaks into a laugh.

Why do you wait for me to say something? The neighbors are going to think I'm slaughtering something over here.

She sings again.

You know if you don't stop I'm going to be the volcano that erupts with doom and gloom and death and reign down on you.

She sings - Opera - I'll just be siiiiiiiitting on the siiiiiiiiide of the volcano siiiiiiiinging my sooooonnnngg. At least I'llllll die haaaaapppppppy.

Dude.

shack saturday

2015-04-25T08:54:00.000-05:00

Happy Saturday, Shackers!

-Angie

happy birthday to smithshack71!!! we're three on earth day!

2015-04-22T07:18:00.001-05:00

SmithShack71 is three years old today, guys. THREE. !!!

It's been interesting, laughable, awkward. It's been sad and great.

Busy and slow. Good vibes and bad and excellent.

It's been a blast.

It's also Earth Day, which I've mentioned before that I didn't realize that when I started this blog, but I think it's the coolest thing, since... you know... Tree Hugger over here.

So... Cheers to the Earth and Happy Birthday to the SS71!

Love you all.

Send mocha.

Plant a tree.

And check out the first post here. It's teeny since it's a newborn.

Thanks for hangin' for the experience.

-Angie

more on than off

2015-04-19T12:45:00.000-05:00

I'm sitting here writing a novel that I've been writing off and on, way more off, and I have little faith in the whole deal, but the thought of not keeping on writing it makes my brain hate itself and break out in a knife fight.

Right now, I'm writing pretty horrible things about a church that I don't think I've ever been in, but you know, it's the imagination, and it's dark, and it's why I took a big OFF from writing it, because I'm going to go somewhere in my brain that I don't even know what's there yet.

And then this little nightmare-fucker comes crawling up my screen. Oh, hello. I'm going to set you on fire as soon as I take your photograph. And it's perfect. It's just so fucking perfect. And it's shit like this that proves that I have to get more on than off.

-Angie

shack saturday

2015-04-18T07:34:00.000-05:00

Happy Saturday, Shackers!

-Angie

boy child and ringneck snake

2015-04-15T20:17:00.000-05:00

Tyler came home to find Pickle jumping around and playing with a little ringneck snake. It's what cats do, and I strongly dislike it. If they would only get the mice - that would be great. If they would leave the snakes, lizards, birds and frogs alone - that would be so great. We rescue these things when we can.

Tyler brought him inside, checked him out and decided he was in pretty good shape, so he let him go back out in the woods in the back yard. It's really cool that my kids share the same love as I do for all this stuff, because it just is. It's also cool, because it lets me get pics of my boy child. Double win.

-Angie