Prims & That

   I like some prims like country and rap. I like anything good. Speaking of witch', heartbroken, devastated, and sick over Charlie Kirk. The media must be held accountable for inciting cold blooded murder. It's hate speech, if anything, and these are the most hateful scum on the planet. It wouldn't have happened if he wasn't a Christian. These schools that incite this sort of stuff need to be closed: forty-six school shootings this year. These murders are not happening at the gun range. Goody, here, reminds me to be thankful for what I have. I will be listing some primitives on Ebay. I even had made some DARK SHADOWS ones that have come back to me since some passings, if I can find them. We'll see. I'd forgotten to show you this Stranger Things knit that Frankie is so obsessed with that I gave it to him. I find it outside my door sacrificed like a rat. God Bless Charlie Kirk's dear family. So sad. 🕈

From DOC

 

  One

  It’s really a funny story. My mother grew up on a wealthy cotton plantation in Tinsdale, Georgia, called Indian Creek, with her brothers and sisters, my aunts, Fawnie and Wanetta and my uncles, Billy and Tom. My grandparents, the McKeys, were Scots-Irish. Grandma Jane had come from Stone Mountain; her maiden name was Cloud. Grandpap Bill had built her a big house that I thought looked like something straight out of The Iliad, with marble pillars and a statue of Dionysis in the orchard. He was smiling, and his hair curled up into little horns hidden beneath the wreath of vines. It was a charmed place, a fun place. 

  Mammy was in charge of the children, Grandma helped with prayers. They were Presbyterian, but the church was in town, forty miles away, so they only attended on holidays. Grandpap had a sort of folly, a chapel, beyond the herb garden where the roses grew, and the bees buzzed. Sometimes a breeze picked up and blew through there on hot summer nights when it was sticky hot indoors. The sounds of the bugs and frogs gave it an otherworldly feel. There weren’t just slaves, there were staff. There was an overseer, Ole’ Berner, and the tutors, Miss Mitchell and Mr. Leslie, who taught everything from embroidery to Latin. 

  It was a grand house full of music and dance. Mama and my aunts sang and played piano. Uncle Tom played the fiddle like a cricket. They held holiday balls in the great room where they waltzed the starry nights away. 

  It was a working farm complete with stables and a carriage house. There were gray and white horses, mules, goats, chickens, and ducks. Grandpap didn’t keep any pigs, said they smelled. He was most fond of his hounds and their pups. 

  My father’s family, the Hollidays, on the other hand, ... (Dream Time, TTYL)

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