Stuff I Talk About

by Christina Ledbetter

Stuff I Write About

Sometimes I write stuff that I have daydreams about making into a book one day. (Hey publishers, call me. [insert coy wink]) Here are the first few rough paragraphs from one of those pieces. Once I finish this and hopefully fourteen other essays chronicling my existence, I’ll let you know by begging you to buy my stuff. Matches When I was six, Chad, my older brother by four years, suggested we have a […]

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Puke

My cat threw up this morning about ninety seconds after he’d finished breakfast. I found it as I was stepping out onto my balcony (balcony makes it sound like I live in a mansion on the sea; I don’t) to water my dying bougainvilleas. There it was, looking like I’d dumped a fresh can of Friskies’ Ocean Treasures directly onto my hardwoods. I stared down at it for a second, […]

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Stuff that Happens at Kroger

A couple of weeks ago at Kroger, I saw a lady patrolling the produce aisle, warning anyone who dared pick up a peach or head of cauliflower, “Don’t pay for water” while she handed them paper towels. I tried to avoid her eyes as I reached for my kale because I didn’t feel like patting down my vegetables as she was instructing everyone else to do, but she spotted me anyway and waved a […]

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The Praise-Monster (And a Note on Sexting)

I’m reading this book with a lady on the cover all free-looking and holy and lifting up her hands to the heavens. She’s like, “Only You, Lord. Only You,” (in her head probably). The book is supposed to help me stop being so greedy for attention and praise. It’s called Freedom from Performing and I started reading it Monday, the same day I gave life to this blog. There I was, sitting on […]

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Stuff I Talk About

I have stuff to talk about. “What stuff?” you ask. This stuff: Marriage – Once, I refused to make hanky panky with my husband because his parents were visiting. I clutched my pajamas tightly to my chest as I hissed, “They’re right there,” frantically pointing to the next bedroom. Lifestyle – This morning I worked out with my therapist pal, Annie, in her garage. She’s not my therapist, rather my pal […]

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