When I was little, I would have told you that they were a pair of Mary Jane’s…black patent leather and oh so shiny…until a few years ago I would have said the same probably.

My favourite shoes ever though….weren’t mine. They were tucked in a garden/compost shed at the top of the shed in a cubby, with about 20 other pairs of wellies on the outside of my rental home in Ireland in 2015. They had roses and other various posies on them and were the only pair that weren’t black, and they fit me. I tromped all over the property properly in these lovely little boots (I wanted to take them home).

I myself have owned a multitude of wellies since that trip; prior to moving to Alabama in 2020, they weren’t what one might call an intelligent purchase, so I only had 2 pair in that 5 year span, that only really got worn when I went to see my best friend in Mississippi. (She had acreage and it was tromp worthy).

I have been through many more pairs in the last 5 years, sadly having to throw pairs out when they break down entirely.

I’m grateful for that first pair introducing me to my fondness…even if they couldn’t come home with me.

Best,

Amanda

September 11, 2015…

Technically it was September 10 when this started.

I asked my roommate if he would go get me some medicine from the store for me, as I was sick.

We were down to one car as his car was in the shop with a computer system failure.

He got angry at being asked to go out, took my car out with squealing wheels and was gone, turned his phone off and came back 2 hours later with the meds.

He threw the medicine at me, screamed at and berated me.

I have an autistic son who I’ve learned over the years to put my hand on the top of his head when he’s needing a redirect. I mistakenly tried this with the roommate, he pulled away and his hair got inadvertently pulled. He called 911 and told them I pulled his hair.

I sat on the porch and waited for police, I didn’t argue, I nearly passed out twice. (My temper wasn’t up during any of this, but his was) got taken to the hospital before I got taken to jail (really got treated like scum at the hospital) because of the anxiety attacks that were full force this whole time. I also got a strep test, it was positive.

My one call was to let the roommate know I had strep and to ask him to take my kids to clinic to get them tested.

I spent night in jail in an orange jumpsuit with no underclothes allowed under, with a wool blanket (I needed 2) and on a steel block for a ‘bed’.

I spent the whole night singing hymns to myself and praying, the next morning the judge had been released by 9 am.

Charges were eventually dismissed but not before getting several flyers in the mail telling my roommate they knew it was hard to live in a domestically violent home, and not without the prosecutor telling me I seemed like an ‘angry person’ in our face to face meeting.

The roommate was angry at me from the moment I asked him for the meds and never let his anger subside til I was locked up…even threw my shoes out the door when the police asked for them.

So yeah, I kinda have…but not really, broken the law.

Or undefined…

Every time I have ever felt I had something pinned down in life, life detours me.

I’ve learned to roll with it, but I’ve also learned to stay forever tensed, poised for the detour.

I’m a routine kind of person usually. I like life predictable or at least familiar.

Today is a good example of this. The route I usually take to Prattville, where I do the bulk of my grocery shopping, and socializing, has become further away for a while, the main road, 14, is closed as of today for what sounds like indefinitely.

I also have a dental appointment just on the other side of the detours this morning at 930…which means I’m forced to face the new roads first thing.

Animals fed and coffee in, time to unload laundry and dishes before I embark on this new adventure.

Have the best kind of day.

Always,

Amanda