As a hoochie with a coochie living way down yonder on the Chattahoochee, I gotta say Alan Jackson’s description of a Georgia summer is spot on.

“You aren’t treating this like a therapy session. We’re just talking.” Our conversation had become more serious, but it wasn't a burden. We were talking about our lives...which are kinda stressful these days. Every problem is a crisis. Emergency is the rule, not the exception. The funniest part was…this was very similar to therapy (but not in the way he thought.)

I am not the only blonde or funny or curvaceous or tall escort. But I am the only Anna Carter. In this regard, the only competition would be like…if a hotter, funnier future-me came to the present. And while I do keep getting hotter and funnier with every passing moment, I regret to inform you that you’re stuck with my current, present form.

I get distracted so easily, it’s embarrassing. Music of any kind is absolutely out of the question. If I’m reading, I cut off at least 45 minutes so that with every word my mind doesn’t flit to work that needs to be done, dishes that need to be cleaned, cats that need to fed.

Giving gifts has always been my most cherished method through which I express love and care for other people. There’s a lot of reasons why, but at the end of December I finally put my finger on it.

And when I was in positions like the ones I mentioned above, people helped. They might not have a lot either. But they helped because they care about you specifically or they care about people in general or they just understand what it’s like to feel totally helpless…and then have someone help.

Three different blog post ideas had been circling my brain for the past couple of months. None of them had coalesced into anything, but this morning I had a thought while I was making my coffee – they’re all the same thing. I’ll explain.

I feel like I used to fight time. That sounds kind of silly, but I believe we all have. We want time to be linear, to be structured, to be logical, to be what we want. But look at your life. You don’t plan for some of the best stuff that’s happened just like you can’t plan for misfortune.

Hostesses have to do this incredible Calculus that I cannot describe where you are having to estimate how long it will take someone to eat dinner. Factors that come into play –