HOLD ONTO YOUR TEETH

The above is an artist's rendering of what I'll look like not too many years hence. Save yourselves now, while there's still time. This tale, told by a tooth, is straight from the horse's mouth.

What a Day of Rejoicing That Will Be (For SOME of Y'all)

Here's an old boyfriend a mine singing one of my favorite tunes. He calls me "Thelmer" in it--he dedicates it to Thelmer--because that's what I told him my name was when we met up in a bar.

Young Trixie Goforth Does the Google

Here's me way back when. Even as a young girl, I was doin' the Google. I was doin' the Google before it was invented. I had one of the very first laptops. Don't look at that little piece of my step-ins hanging out my britches leg, you naughty. I may look like I was hot to trot, but even then I was good to Choose Virtue. Leastways that's how I remember it.

GET OUT MY FLYSWATT!

Get out my flyswatt! What I'd give to beat this boy's tail.

GO FORTH AND SIN SOME MORE

So I was up in Heaven, young again and having the time of my life (death), a fugitive on the run from St. Peter, who had grabbed me at the pearly gates, seeking to detain me because my time was not yet.

And lo, the Lord pressed upon the heart of my own preacher back home to climb up Jacob's ladder and coax me back down to earth.

He took me by the hand and he said unto me, "Come back down to earth, Trixie."

And I said to him, "Get your ole hand off me! No tellin' where it's been!"

"Trixie, please come home. We need you at South Bostic Baptist."

"You mean you need that five dollar bill I put in the plate every Sunday!"

But my mind took to thinking of some wild oats I hadn't sowed yet, a few naughty words not yet spoken, a few ugly deeds left undone, some gossip not yet spread, some **** not yet started.

And I rose up with a shout and declared, "I'll think about it."

Y'all stay tuned.

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Copyright 2008/2009 by Trixie Goforth and Sherry Austin, that gal who helps her out.

Goodbye for Now

Look at that face over there to the left. That's me in Heaven, where all things become nifty and new.

It's not the prettiest face you've ever seen, but is it not one of the sweetest and most satisfied?

"Farther along we'll know all about it," the old song goes. "Farther along, we'll understand why..."

Oh, sweet, sweet hope of the ages!

Somebody wrote in to say my face looked all peaceful like the Buddha's when he was sitting under a tree and figured out he had it all figured out, or figured out he didn't have it figured out or couldn't ever figure it out, so he just quit trying and decided to "zen out" and "go with the flow."

And to that I say "to each his own," but deliver me from having to tote around that big Buddha belly!

And look at that Clairol Loving Care helmet hair!

Every hair in place. Looks painted on, don't it?

Yes, that's me, looking again like I did in the prime of my life, when hope sprung like an eternal bed spring from my breast.

And now my hope is satisfied.

And yet...and yet, my heart longs for home and the sight and smell of the sweet earth. And for the sight and smell of y'all. Well some of y'all.

Make yourself at home until I come back. Sit in the shade of the porch or come on in--y'all don't have to knock.

Get the clothes in off the line if it looks like rain. Do you mind? And be sure to help yourself to the cornbread on the stove.