You Cannot Mess This Up
Page 33
It was all BS, and I knew that, but it felt good to remind myself of how gifted I was at being totally delusional.
Looking at the glowing pines, we sat quietly. Silence. It wasn’t that we were afraid to say anything, it was that we were on the same page. As different as we each were, and we were, we loved each other no matter what. And the truth was, we had each gotten here the same way—our very existence relied on just another case of mundane, married sexual relations. It just so happened that, in our case, the same combination of people had done it, and I mean it, for each of us to even be breathing.
I guessed there was something pretty special about that.
“Expect we got a lot figured out today,” Rick stated, taking a draw off his pipe. “Yes, sir, I do expect we did.”
“We’re ready now,” Kim said, looking off into the distance, holding her pipe like she was wearing a satin robe and a cravat. “We’re ready for whatever might happen … Dick done made sure of it.”
Taking another generous chug of my beer, I placed the can precariously between my legs and stuck my pipe in the corner of my mouth. My hand brushed my face in the process. I felt a small abrasion. I put my hand on it, making sure it was real.
“Where did you get that scratch?” Rick asked.
Putting my arms around each of my siblings, I leaned back and grimaced, delivering my words with a delicious twang. “Well, friends, that war wound is a whole ‘nother story … I expect, well, I ‘spect we’ll just have to put the whole damn thing, the whole lot of it, right there in our hope chests.”
We all laughed. After all, I was pretty damn funny.
EPILOGUE
Though the journey detailed in the pages in this book didn’t happen in real life, the impact of writing it was, for me, nothing short of life changing. I went and spoke to my Mom during Christmas of 2016. I used real words and referenced actual events that had never been spoken of. Though we didn’t walk away agreeing on all the finer points, we walked away having honestly discussed them. We both cried. Though we will likely never speak of it again, which I am 100% good with, we are forever changed. We are free from acting like it never happened and hoping no one ever brings it up. We are living, together, in the land of honesty. Though it may not change anything we can see, everything we can’t is different now.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First and foremost, many, many thanks to the main characters portrayed in this book, who are real-life people. In writing this, I created dialogue that while based on memories and feelings, is fictional. As I neared completion, I went to each member of my childhood family and explained to them what I’d done. In every case they supported me and encouraged me to see the project through to fruition. This emotional blank check was what really made completing the cathartic journey of this book a reality.
Next, an enormous thank you to my editor Laurie Boris, who took my million-word first draft and tediously helped me find the book within the non-book. Your careful, considerate deliberation and precise editing made sharing this story a reality. I have no words big enough to cover my gratitude.
To Mary Jones – who I called randomly and told she was a major character in my fictional story. Thank you for your enthusiasm and blind faith. If what happened in the book were to happen in real life, I’d want you to play the same role.
To Rich Thomaselli – formerly of the Bleacher Report – for seeing something in my writing worth singling out. It was you who made me believe that I had a voice to share on a larger stage.
To Bill Eichenberger – of the Bleacher Report – for teaching me what writing standards are all about.
To Robert Hastings and Barbara Streit—my high school band directors. Though it was crystal clear that I was never going to have a career playing the alto saxophone, thanks for cultivating my love for writing and encouraging me to pursue my non-musical pursuits.
To Texas Tech University – From here anything’s possible. #iAMaRedRaider
To Teri Tallant Flash – an old camp friend who posted “The Creative Process” when I was attempting to complete this project. Without even knowing it, you helped me to reach the finish line.
To Connie Thompson Cline, Deena Rode Weast, and Missy Martin Bracken – three dear friends who, despite our physical distance, have continued to ask me “when are you going to write that book?” This is it.
To the Commune – Sarah Wilson Vier, Virginia Lyons, Stephanie Rice Weaver, Jane Christenson Wood, Mike Roberts, and the late Karen Vining—for a level of friendship that is as life changing from afar as it is in person.
To Tara Beck Bissonett – “Kat” or “The Hair Whisperer” —for not only making me look like a well-groomed, stylish, and alluring woman, but for discussing every detail of this book, and my life, at length.
To Sue Weinland McAfee – my aunt and friend—for a lifetime of support and for a very honest conversation in my kitchen. I feel privileged to be related to you, Uncle Chris, David, Stephanie and Leigh.
To Sue Shibley – my former neighbor—for asking me for a signed copy of my first-ever writing business card. LFATS.
To Carolyn Bates—for enthusiastically helping me select the first version of the title for this book. I’d go on a trip with you anywhere.
To Rye Walsh – who, after several glasses of wine one Halloween night, got real with me and told me I was going to have to believe in this book if it was ever going to really happen.
To my Camp Olympia family – there are too many of you to mention here even if I could use all the pages of this book. That’s unfortunate because so many of you, individually and collectively, have shaped who I am. Thanks for being “my people” from age 10 to 50, for loving me and for making me feel like I’m a part of something bigger than myself.
To Kristi Lamb – you were the one who convinced me I could be a sportswriter, since then you’ve treated me like I was totally a legitimate writing force. Thanks a million times over. I can’t believe we still have all our NCAA eligibility remaining, we should totally do something about that.
To Yvonne, Andrew, Louise, Matthew, and Sophie Clarke – my dear English friends—for loving me and my family and supporting each of us. I doubt we will ever make another connection like the one we share with you.
To Dawn Oldham Koenig – my most loyal friend – for loving me, supporting me and being totally honest all in the same breath. And for holding me accountable for my tangled hair.
To Kelly Hall – my dear Texas Tech friend—for talking me down when my writing endeavors were belittled at a cocktail party. People don’t think they can get a book published without friends who believe in them. Go Tech.
To Patty Buchanan Lanning and Missy Buchanan – my life-long friends. Your support of me and my writing has made such a difference. A special thank you to Missy, one of the few friends who has read virtually every piece of writing that I have ever shared publicly. Meow and wrap skirts forever.
To Caroline Morgan Hamm – my Texas Tech roommate and dear friend. The first thing I ever got published you hung on our dorm room door, announcing, “The famous author lives here.” That changed my life. Thanks for encouraging me to be honest, specifically with this story. 2DD.
To Tommy and Kathy Ferguson – the former directors of Camp Olympia—for always finding ways for me to use my passions at camp and beyond. You believed in me more than I ever did.
To Shonda O’Brien Hiers – for crying when I told you I was being sent to cover the Orange Bowl in Miami. You and Captain Troy have been two of the primary people who have taken me and my writing seriously. This doesn’t happen without you.
To Dana Dugas Rivera – my pen pal and dear friend. I completed and revamped this book as our in-writing relationship began and then flourished. It was in our communication that I found what I believe is my true writing voice. It’s yet another unbelievable result of our deep and meaningful connection. Thank you for writing me back. #CONSTANT.
To Scott, Clay, Gracie, and Caden Barr – my Ohio family. M
y people. My tribe. My squad. Never in my life have I felt more accepted, loved, and celebrated than while in your company. Thank you for believing in me and more than anything for loving me. The headphones are not wireless.
To Mary Johnson Barr – my loyal and beloved friend for life—for taking every single aspect of my life as seriously, if not more seriously, than I do. Thank you for discussing, at length, the more revealing parts of this book. Thanks for being the friend everyone else just wishes they had, and for the second edit. See you at Panera. In a booth.
To Alan, Esme, and Ella Turner – my English family – for your love and support and for treating me, always, like an actual family member. A special thank you to Ella for a long conversation we had about confidence that can be found within the pages of this book. Love each of you.
To Julia Turner – my BFF in England. There is no way to adequately gauge your huge impact on this book and my life. I hope you’ll notice how many of our deep conversations are woven into the storyline. More than anything, thank you a million times over for encouraging me to live in the world of honesty.
To Bill Daughters – my father-in-law who passed away in 2016. Pops, I know how proud you would be of this even though it’s a girl book. I hope you know how much a part you are of this and any other achievements I may reach. We are golfers.
To Hogan, Morgan, and Jagan Daughters – my nephews and niece. There are no words for how proud I am of each of you and how much I love living our thug life together. It chose us. Remember, I’m your Aunt. Always.
To Floyd and Shelly Daughters – my brother-in-law and sister-in-law. When the in-law truck came around and dropped you two off at my door was one single best moments of my entire life. Thank you for your consistent support and love.
To Estelle, Fiona, Otto, Clara, and Finn – my nieces and nephews. I love each of you very much and am proud to be your Aunt. Remember, we got to be Legit! #thebeat
To Jennifer Weinland – my sister-in-law. Thank you for a million unplanned, super deep conversations around your kitchen island. Without a doubt, a lot of our life-changing realizations have found their way into these pages.
To Rick Weinland – my younger brother. The thing people don’t get about you is how wise you are. Having you in my life is just about the best thing ever. Thanks for being my person. Can’t wait until we make a man out of Willie again. PS You caught the big one!
To Kimber Weinland – my much older sister. Thanks for living this story with me and thanks for never, ever failing to be in my corner. There are no words for what your unconditional love has done for me. I’m still jealous of you, but I can live with that. The reality of my much bigger boobs helps. Love you forever. Mwaaaaaaah.
To Dick Weinland – my Dad. This book project is a direct result of your “out of the box” approach, where nothing is ever impossible. Your positive support of everything I have ever done is incalculable. All my results are a credit to you.
To Sue Weinland – my Mom. I always knew you were a courageous person, but your attitude and support of this book has taken that opinion to an entirely new level. I have no words for what that means to me. Thank you for always encouraging me to dream big. I’m thankful God picked us to be Mother and Daughter.
To Matthew Daughters – our youngest son and such a source of joy. Thank you for coming into my office when you were in third grade and had run out of reading material and saying, “Ok, Mom where’s that book you wrote? I need to read for 20 more minutes.” It illustrates your beautiful sense of humor, your positive attitude and the total belief you have in each member of your family. I love you more than you’ll ever know.
To Will Daughters—our oldest son and one of the most intuitive people I’ve ever met. Thank you for being the first person to read this book and for always believing in each of my crazy projects. I’m so proud of you it literally makes my heart ache. Thank you for teaching me that comfort isn’t an art.
To Willie Daughters – my first and current husband. The difference between me being a published author and not is you. Thank you for being my full partner in all things. I cannot wait to ride down the road together in the Nicey-Nice. We can bring the book with us. I don’t know about you, but I think our marriage is going really well. Love you forever.
To God – my life is yours. Thank you for all the seeds you have planted, are planting, and will plant in my life. Can’t wait to see what grows next. #SOforreal
About the Author
A native Houstonian and a 1991 graduate of The Texas Tech University, Amy W. Daughters has been a freelance writer, focusing mostly on college football, for the past decade. You Cannot Mess This Up is her first published book, meaning she can no longer claim to be “the author of unpublished books.” Amy lives in Centerville, Ohio—a suburb of Dayton—where she is a regular on the ribbon dancing circuit. She is married to Willie (a computer person) and the proud mother of two sons, Will (21) and Matthew (13).
SELECTED TITLES FROM SHE WRITES PRESS
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founded to serve women writers everywhere.
Visit us at www.shewritespress.com.
Size Matters by Cathryn Novak. $16.95, 978-1-63152-103-4. If you take one very large, reclusive, and eccentric man who lives to eat, add one young woman fresh out of culinary school who lives to cook, and then stir in a love of musical comedy and fresh-brewed exotic tea, with just a hint of magic, will the result be a soufflé—or a charred, inedible mess?
A Tight Grip: A Novel about Golf, Love Affairs, and Women of a Certain Age by Kay Rae Chomic. $16.95, 978-1-938314-76-6. As forty-six-year-old golfer Jane “Par” Parker prepares for her next tournament, she experiences a chain of events that force her to reevaluate her life.
Tzippy the Thief by Pat Rohner. $16.95, 978-1-63152-153-9. Tzippy has lived her life as a selfish, materialistic woman and mother. Now that she is turning eighty, there is not an infinite amount of time left—and she wonders if she’ll be able to repair the damage she’s done to her family before it’s too late.
Slipsliding by the Bay by Barbara McDonald. $16.95, 978-1631522253. A hilarious spoof of academic intrigue that offers a zany glimpse of a small college at a crossroads—and of the societal turmoil and follies of the seventies.
Arboria Park by Kate Tyler Wall. $16.95, 978-1631521676. Stacy Halloran’s life has always been centered around her beloved neighborhood, a 1950s-era housing development called Arboria Park—so when a massive highway project threaten the Park in the 2000s, she steps up to the task of trying to save it.
In the Heart of Texas by Ginger McKnight-Chavers. $16.95, 978-1-63152-159-1. After spicy, forty-something soap star Jo Randolph manages in twenty-four hours to burn all her bridges in Hollywood, along with her director/boyfriend’s beach house, she spends a crazy summer back in her West Texas hometown—and it makes her question whether her life in the limelight is worth reclaiming.