Do middle schoolers still have dances in garages, carports, patios and back yards anymore? You know the kind where there are stringed lights, cd players and black lights? The soundtrack to your life (Slide by Goo Goo Dolls or Dave Matthew’s Band Crash) plays at the moment that THE GUY asks you to dance, and it all seems to be happening in slow motion. You’re thankful you wore your favorite pair of Calvin Klein jeans with your Boston Birkenstocks and that you sprayed a little Sunflower by Elizabeth Arden on, thinking the combination of all 3 things must have brought you some type of good luck and that God above performed some type of miracle. Your brain can’t process what’s happening as your best friend nudges you forward with a slight cough to get your attention. Then, if THE GUY asks you to go for a walk, your palms automatically start to sweat, you pop a piece of gum in your mouth, and wonder if he has braces and you have braces, will you get stuck?

Time seems frozen in 1997. There may be an opportunity to snap a picture if someone has a disposable camera or a polaroid camera. For now, however, the only evidence of this dance and THE GUY asking you to dance is being etched into your memory. He smells like Tommy Hilfiger and is rocking a pair of Timberlands; you recognize the scent because your best friend and you constantly spray it on cards at Parisian’s and stick in your Sak purses.

The crowd notices when you two arrive from your walk. No one has to know whether or not you actually kissed; a white lie to save face shall suffice. The boys cheer as if THE GUY won the winning touchdown in overtime. Not much will change when you are adult in terms of how men react to their friends advancing with women. Your friends rush over and giggle and that will not change either when you become an adult.

The next CD plays One Headlight by the Wallflowers and in the next morning, you are 36, scrolling through Facebook. A familiar song plays on your XM radio and you remember a 12-year-old girl, a time, and place. You smile… “Me and Cinderella, we put it all together…”

So, I’ve been watching the Netflix mini-series Inventing Anna recently. I’ve been fascinated with how this 25-year-old girl (because at 36 almost 37 anyone under the age of 30 seems soo young now) could fake her way into scamming millions… I mean MILLIONS of dollars from well to-do folks, fancy hotels, etc. I’ve also been thinking about what type of persona I have online. Being an internal optimist, I choose to only post happy things, such as, my children, dates with my husband, and my cat. Also, when I blog, I try to remain positive. I try to stay true to who I am in hopes that it makes you smile, laugh or think. Am I hiding behind some of the pain of this year- hell yeah, I am, but what good does dwelling on something you have no control over? I also realized, however, that maybe I should share some of the not so good in my life as it might help others going through similar situations. Give them a voice.

I noticed the settings on my washing machine just now. They read (as I am sure most do): Normal, Heavy Duty, Whites, Bedding/Waterproof, PERM Press, Quick Wash, Delicates, etc. Now, I’m not an expert but I sure as heck hardly ever use PERM press or even delicate (honestly, maybe never). I’m mostly a Normal, Heavy Duty, Whites, and Bedding kind of gal. I’m sure I could start a war on social media regarding my washing habits, but I digress. Life’s a lot like these settings. normal is good but sometimes things get Heavy Duty. Things become Delicate and hard to talk about. We wish everything could be a Quick Wash but alas it’s just not possible.

My life flipped its script, and my settings went from Normal to Heavy Duty in September of 2021. Everything changed with one diagnosis. I’ve come a long way since that phone call. I was in the car with my mom and youngest leaving Tuscaloosa from the pediatrician. I pulled over in the Bojangles parking lot to get the news. The worst part was telling my mom and having to drive an hour in silence waiting to tell my dad that was waiting in Demopolis. They had to have their moment of being upset, and I know they didn’t want to fall apart in front of me. I also dreaded telling my 8-year-old after a soccer match one night. I didn’t have much time to think as it was time to schedule a surgery and find a way to tell people. I’m sorry if you found out on a text or read it in my blog. It’s so much easier to type those kinds of things than say them out loud.

Did I fall apart or have some moments of ugly crying? Yes, I did, and I have; I will. Did I have moments where I felt sorry for myself? Yes. I will. Did I get so sick I couldn’t keep anything down? Yes, unfortunately, once after one of my “red devil” chemo treatments. Did I get back up? I did, I am. Am I a fighter? Yes, short people tend be scrappy regardless of a cancer diagnosis because we can’t even reach things at Wal Mart. Do I make off-color cancer jokes? All the time. Am any different than you? No, I am not. You would do the same thing. You would cry, fight, get mad, tell awful jokes. Why? Because you have people that depend of you, and you’ve got so much more to do with this life!

Now, one lumpectomy and one surgery to get clear margins, a few mammograms, ultrasounds, and 8 chemo treatments behind me, I can say I am no longer the same Ashley as I was before. I hope that I am better. Inventing Anna shows the world what’s like to be a scam artist and that you can never really know a person. I hope that when you read this, you know that you are getting my God honest truth. I want to help you, your mother, your sister, anyone fighting cancer. “Don’t you know who I am (insert Anna’s God-awful accent on Inventing Anna)?” I am the one that will fight with you, for you, beside you.

Today was treatment number 3 of the remaining 12 rounds of chemo I have to do. I’ve already done 4 rounds of the hard devil making my treatment count up to date 7. Not that anyone’s counting..Oh wait… I am. It’s now part of the road I’m walking down. The twists and turns of life has brought a lot of us to the Cancer Center and to frequent what I affectionately call the “The Chemo Lounge”. Doesn’t that sound a little bit sexier?

I find myself wanting to know the patients’ stories around me. So much of me wants to ask questions and befriend everyone. It’s tough though for us all because at some point the Benadryl kicks in, and we all dose off (including me). I dose during the Price is Right. I’m the youngest in the room so there is a lot of wisdom in one room. Each of us with our own unique story to tell, and cancer we’re fighting. Behind each of us are family members and friends praying over us and God leading us to this very moment (each for different reasons). I’ve learned that many of us have friends in common or that they know my parents.

We’ve become our own Breakfast Club of sorts as we enter the lounge. A lot of us walk in with greetings and “Happy Valentine’s Day!” Today, I discovered that the gentleman next to me and I had at least two mutual friends. As we were watching the Price Is Right, I could hear him say “No, not that one!” and a lot of his answers were right. Having to get chemo frequently allows a lot of opportunity to get the price right.

The nurses and the staff are equally or even friendlier than the patients. They smile and greet us by name and offer a small chat or hug at the end of a treatment. By choosing each day to smile and chat with us, they are as important as the treatment itself- encouragement. All humans need it, and they need to find comfort and a friendly face no matter where life chooses to take them but especially during cancer.

As much as I’m ready to move past this long chapter in my book, I must admit I will miss seeing some of the regulars at the chemo lounge. I’m praying they don’t remain regulars and move on. I pray they use their experience for God’s glory as I must do.

There’s one regular who will never leave the Cancer Center- Jesus. He will always be there- listening to our greetings and smiling-knowing he is witnessing God’s work first hand. No one getting treament or fighting cancer at the Cancer Center is alone. No one.

Above, a Valentine poem – a lot it is true but it’s what you choose to do (with your diagnosis) is what will get you through (see that I rhymed- I know you are impressed!)

Who were we before kids? I honestly can’t remember. We were 22 and 26 respectively when we met. We were babies. We married at 25 and 29- youngins’. I think we used to eat Mexican once a week with friends, and I drank margaritas. I think we hung out at Rhythm and Brews or Rhythm and Cougars as I affectionally called it. We would go to people watch, drink beer and hear our favorite band Mojo Trio. Our only child, Polly, our cat was much smaller. We slept in. We also loved the family that owned the Chinese restaurant in the same shopping center as the Mexican restaurant. Chinese was our Sunday routine.

We also rode on our neighbor’s pontoon and drank too many Limearitas. You ate a LOT of sausage and corn on the cob. You may have even all of the sausage. We were genuinely happy.

Whatever I can remember about our life before hand does not begin to compare to our lives now with two precious boys that keep us running, and I mean running especially Anderson. I wouldn’t trade our life now for anything. I am thankful for the times before but more grateful for now.

Some things don’t change. We still like Mexican food at least once a week. I traded my margarita in for an unsweet tea (got to watch those carbs!). Polly is still our fur baby even though she’s 11! No more Chinese at our favorite place as we moved back home. Sundays are now for church and naps.

I love the life we’ve created that continues to evolve. We’ve added to our little family, and I pray it continues to grow and one day, we are with our grands. I’ve been praying lately for just an opportunity for a dance with our sons at their weddings. I don’t know why, but it’s been on my mind.

Whatever life gives us, I’ll just be fine as long it’s you and me, and when we retire, let’s go back to watching bands and drinking beer, occasionally at least.

Our first home in Tuscaloosa down 69 South. Wow, look my toes were done. Don’t ask about them now.

As a kid, I subscribed to Seventeen magazine and read Cosmo for the um… oh well, you know why we all read Cosmo. Now as an adult, I read Southern Living and House Beautiful. All of these magazines are great for ideas but don’t necessarily paint my reality. If we compare ourselves or our homes too much, we will start feeling less than or inadequate. Combined now with social media pressures of what a perfect mom looks like, we are all doomed.

I’ve always liked the saying “Yes, Queen!” I think as women we are all queens and have earned our crowns. Hear me out. None of us our perfect but we sure try our damnedest everyday for the ones we love. So here are a few reasons to not let anyone steal your crown.

1. You made your kids their favorite breakfast, packed them lunch, made it to school one time and rocked it at work. Yes, Queen!
2. You put away the laundry as soon as it was dried or at least in 3 to 4 business days. Yes, Queen!
3. You cheered your son on at his basketball game while feeding your newborn and managing the other siblings. Yes, Queen!
4. You took time to give a friend a much needed hug and shared a laugh. Yes, Queen!
5. You visited with your parents. Yes, Queen!
6. You went to church. You took time to pray for someone. Yes, Queen!
7. You gave yourself grace when things didn’t go exactly planned. Yes, Queen!
8. You took time for yourself and took that bath, read that book or got your toes done! Yes, Queen!
9. You sang Wheels on the Bus for the millionth time or answered “Yes Papa!” when your toddler sang Johnny, Johnny. Yes, Queen!
10. You loved and continue to love. Yes, Queen!

So, as you can see from list, no one can steal your crown. I didn’t say anything about what you ate, what size you are, what your income is, the size of your home, etc. because hell, we are trying to make it the best we know how. You chose love and according to the Beatles that is all we need.

So, sit up a little straighter, smile back at that reflection in the mirror, straighten your crown; you’ve earned it.

Yes, Queen no one can steal it.

I was excited to start the week and dress in something other than tights and a t-shirt. Last week’s treatment was the toughest by far, and I felt like the fog from it was finally lifting. I looked forward to going to work and getting my mind on something else. First, though, was a visit to the doctor. My blood work was good but it looks like I will not be getting a break between treatments as I had originally thought. My last hard chemo will be next week followed by a week off then I’ll start my weekly 12 rounds of chemo. After those fun weeks, it’s 6 to 7 weeks of radiation.

All of this swam around in my head but it was off to work. I have tried to think one step or one treatment ahead but it can be hard. Especially when you are a planner by nature. Work was good except the Excel spreadsheet I had been hard at work on didn’t save. I finally gave in and left. And did I mention the crack in my phone decided to affect my entire screen?

By far the highlight of today after accepting my new year outlook, letting go that sometimes Microsoft sucks and the fact that I’ve got to be more careful with my phone, was bath time with Anderson. Bath time is a big deal as it requires numerous toys including Iron Man and the Hulk. As they tower over the bath tub, they remind me of two important truths- it is important what we do when we are upset (Hulk) and what can be accomplished with great will and determination (Iron Man).

I remind myself that even though this year is going to be probably one of my difficult is that I will do it. It will be hard but I will do it. There is no need to spend time being upset. In the meantime, I’ll spend more time worrying about what toys I need to put in the bathtub to make my 2 -year- old happy. Kids are a blessing.

Thanks Iron Man and Hulk.

Tis the season for sappy Hallmark movies where the leading lady moves to a small town to start a new career and to fall in love. We like these movies because they are predictable and make us all believe we can start over anytime we want. Life is not so much a Hallmark movie but sometimes can be even more magical-better than the best Hallmark script writer could dream up.

Today was that day. Today, I said good bye to my hair and really my old life. I woke up mixed emotions. Would I be sad? Would it be hard? Honestly, I’ve never been a big hair person and there has been more hair shed in these past days-more than the amount of snow Demopolis may or may not see this winter. At this rate more because Christmas is going to be in the 70’s!

Today was one of the happiest days of my life. I was surrounded by people who love me and are supporting me every step. I cannot begin to say enough about the ladies that were present. When we first moved back, I often felt like I didn’t have a circle or people. However, in these few years, I have come to rediscover old friends and gain new friends. Side note-if you feel like you do not have “people”, there is always an open spot at my table.

The biggest surprise today and by far one of the best moments (if not the best) in our married lives came when my husband joined me by shaving his head. Girls, I tell you it made my heart skip a beat. This selfless act of love-I just don’t know how to put into words. I also think my husband is really cute with no hair. Now, that’s it out there, I want to ensure the rights to this act of love are mine, and if Hallmark decides to use it in a script, I have full copyright and will be compensated when and if they choose to use in their movies.

The fight continues with two more hard treatments and 12 more rounds of chemo followed by radiation. Today, I had a chance to not think about the fight and just be present, be happy. It’s a tough road but paved with wonderful people along the way that’s making it manageable. Dorothy didn’t make it to Oz without her people. Just as I want make it to the end of the journey without my support system and God.

There are so many going through the same hard journey. Some you may not know are fighting this battle. I hope that I can be there advocative, voice. I carry them with me. No one fights alone.

Being bald is not so bad. It has its own perks-no blow drying, no shampoo, no stress. It’s only hair. It will come back. In the end, if I’ve learned anything is that moments matter. Friendship matters. Sisters matter. Husbands matter.

Love matters.

As I sat waiting to see the doctor, my eyes caught a glimpse of “The Bell”. I stared at the bell for a long time. Dammit, I’m going to ring that bell one day. The bell is for those that have beat cancer. I imagined the sound it would make as I rang it. I imagined myself standing there grinning ear to ear with my short hair slowly growing back.

Seeing the bell fueled the fire to face this beast head on, not letting it defeat me. One of my favorite movies is Fried Green Tomatoes. In the movie, Idgie channels an inner strength she calls “Tawanda.” In seeing the bell, I am summoning Tawanda, “righter of wrong.” I am also calling on Ruth and the rest of the gang at Whistlestop for their support. I’ll also look to Harper Lee and the rest of my favorite Southern authors to be cheering me on.

In reality, I’m living in a real, Southern novel. My little “knock about” place known as Demopolis has lifted me up in this fight. I will prove to be a worthy opponent against the “red devil” as the chemo is called. God’s on my side. Not today Satan (insert machine gun sounds). I am determined to help others in their fight as well so they can ring the bell.

The perceived sound of the bell echoes in my ear, pushing me forward. The felt prayers of friends and loved ones give me strength. My favorite Christmas movie is It’s a Wonderful Life. According to the film, every time a bell rings an angel gets its wings. Well, when I ring this bell, there will be multiple angels getting their wings, and God himself will hear this bell.

One of my favorite poems by Edgar Allen Poe is The Bells.

  While the stars that oversprinkle
        All the heavens, seem to twinkle
           With a crystalline delight;
         Keeping time, time, time,
         In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinabulation that so musically wells
       From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
               Bells, bells, bells—
  From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

I’m going to ring that bell. You just wait.

When I was born, we lived down by the river. At a few months old, my parents’ dog Night passed away. My sister commented, “Well at least we still have Ashley”. I guess I was a consolation prize at best. Years later, I can remember my hair being long and down my back. I hated having my hair fixed or brushed. I can remember my sister angrily hitting me in the back of my head with the back of the brush because of my refusal to allow her to play with my hair. My mom even bought a white Astro van to have separate seating for us as we could not be near one another without a fight ensuing. If you are sibling then I am sure you can relate. It’s a tough love in the beginning, almost forced by your parents’ choice to have more than one child.

However, as the years roll past, you begin to realize how much you need this person. They are a link to your past and know you better than anyone. Siblings have great inside jokes relating to childhood experiences. We share a great one about Sam’s Cola products and Upper 10 (Sam’s version of Mountain Dew). As I got to high school (my sister had already moved out), I very much enjoyed having my sister do my hair and makeup. I was never any good at it.

Now, as a married adult with children, we have so much more to share. I can tell her anything without judgement and she is able to provide the best advice. She has always been someone I’ve admired and must admit, slightly jealous. She is not afraid to try anything, and when she does, she nails it every time. She is not afraid to stand her ground, and she lights up any room she enters.

Today is her birthday. As I scroll through Facebook, I see something that says “tag someone you are proud of”. I keep scrolling but, in my mind, the first name that comes to mind is hers. I am extremely proud of her- for all that she does with her job, how she’s raising 4 strong and independent children, and how she can succeed in anything.

I don’t think I tell her enough but I love her. I love her more with each passing year. I’m glad she’s on my team, I’m glad she is mine. Happy Birthday Andi!

Ruth 1:16–17, “Where you go, I will go, and where you stay, I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God.

What’s your claim to fame? As the old saying goes, “everybody dies famous in a small town.” You know I was Pinocchio in the Children’s Parade in my hometown. I worked hard on that Paper Mache head; I even had a long nose that I worked tirelessly on. I remember clumsily walking around in the parade, not really being able to see where I was going. Another time, in the same parade, I was one of those girls in a fancy hoop skirt. Mine was red and I rode in a wagon with other girls dressed similarly. Today, marks 50 years of our town’s festival Christmas on the River. Our little town shined brightly and could have very well been the center of the Hallmark movie. As I watched the parade roll by, I found myself watching spectators. Their faces would light up and they would begin to yell to a parade participant as he or she came by. Equally excited was the parade participant. They would beam with pride as they were waved to or called by name.

Life’s a lot like a small-town parade. Sometimes we are in the parade, and sometimes we are spectators. Both roles are equally important and at different times. When we can’t be the ones in the parade, it is important that we support the ones that are. When we are in the parade, it is our job to show our appreciation and enjoy the moment.

This year, I’m very much having to be a spectator in the parade of life. What’s interesting though, is that you all have been cheering me on as if I was riding on a float. You’ve gone out of your way to hug me, ask me how I am and leave me with encouraging words. I cannot begin to tell you how much that means to me. A dear friend went out of the way to visit before having to head back to Tuscaloosa. Those 5 minutes meant more to me than I can ever express.

Every day can’t be a parade but how we choose to interact with each other is important. Taking time to listen, leave a positive word, and be supportive can make for a better world. Every day I am learning more about the every day gifts God gives us. I hope that through all of this, I can be someone’s cheerleader, encourager and giver of big hugs.

I love my small town, and I love all of you.