Annie Get Your Gun...or Some Eggs

You fill up my senses
Like a night in a forest
Like the mountains in springtime
Like a walk in the rain
Like a storm in the desert
Like a sleepy blue ocean
You fill up my senses
Come fill me again

Annie's Song - John Denver

INAUGURAL BLOG POST! Hello, everyone! Maybe you know me - probably you don't. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Dearest Annie...actually, I'm just Dina, but for you, today, Annie will do. So why Dearest Annie? Well, that's the easiest question I'll answer all day.

I wanted a blog name that could lead to a website that could lead to a book that could lead to design endeavors that could lead to consulting that could lead to a store....and a future HBO series, duh. One day. In a galaxy far, far away. So, for two years, I've toiled and obsessed and contemplated and driven people crazy. People meaning my husband. And my mother. And my daughter-in-law. And my bff. And my other bff. But, that's it. AND, STILL, I COULD NOT DECIDE! Between the future short stories, the DIY projects, the design inspirations....what did I want to be called for all time? Things that you should know before we progress any further: I am the oddest person you will ever meet. I am inherently Southern. My superhero alter-ego is called "Worst Case Scenario Woman" (cape not included). I'm 100% obsessed with Gray Gardens and the Edies (big & little). I love abandoned houses. I'm a little cray, y'all. So.....how does one combine all this into a blog name? Well, my husband asked me (after two years - thanks, hun)  what I wanted people to think when they read or spoke or just heard the name of my blogcompanybookdesignservicefuturemonarchylifetimemovie. 

Exhale. Smile. Relax.

That's easy.

I want you to hear this name I've chosen and see the inside of my grandmother's old bungalow in Wilmer, TX. Step up on the front porch. I never saw the honeysuckle, but I always, always smelled it. Don't you? On your third step walking in the front door, your right foot will make a loud squeak. But, at the same time, you'll be overcome with smells from Gramp's barber shop in the next room: 3 Roses Hair Tonic, Dr Pepper, and 1 cent bubble gum, freshly chewed. There are cracks in the plaster on the walls, but there's the most beautiful upright grand piano right under the largest crack. The furniture is well worn, but you can't help but notice the china hutch in the corner. The bowl you eat from has a large chip in it, but the chicken stew is the best thing you've ever tasted. Welcome to Annie Mae's. From now on, maybe you'll associate one thing with another, like I do. Beautiful pianos belong under a crack in the plaster. The best food in the world simply must be served in a cracked china bowl. It just makes sense. 

See, my grandmother was simply the finest human being I've ever known. She was tiny. She had waist-length jet black hair that was streaked with gray. She brushed it out every night and braided it into a bun every morning. She used embroidered handkerchiefs & always wore an apron. She made amazing coconut cakes. She drank a Dr Pepper every morning. She brought five quality human beings into this world during the Great Depression. She didn't take any flack from anyone. Rumor has it she sacrificed a days allotment of eggs on her sons, just to break up a fight. She was a good shot, I hear. Can you see it? Can you smell that chicken stew? 

That's why. It had to be Dearest Annie. It was always Dearest Annie.