Tammy is the girl who…
stuffed penny candies into her sock at the Plaid Pantry (and still feels guilty, though it was Ann’s idea.)
destroyed Virgie’s rose garden, even though she was a very nice old lady who gave out full -sized candy bars on Halloween (also Ann’s idea.)
ran through the sprinkler with no shirt on and got in trouble (I was only six!)
left footprints in the neighbor’s freshly paved sidewalk (it looked far too smooth next to ours.)
broke her arm jumping out of a swing, but lied and said she fell (the teacher told my dad the truth—that b-word.)
smoked cigarette butts in the alley behind Ann’s house (do not try this at home!)
made Ken and Barbie do the naughty (once again, Ann’s idea.)
spent most of her middle- school years perched high on a tree branch, reading (this was before I was afraid of heights. When did that happen anyway?)
wrote a story that made her 7th- grade teacher cry—but in a good way (orphan kids rescued by a lonely old lady. Everyone say, awww.)
caught her first buzz at 14 off of a stolen sip of the neighbor’s scotch (sighs with nostalgia, longing for the days when a sip was all it took.)
daydreamed and partied her way through high school (upon discovering that reality is so overrated.)
worked too many minimum wage jobs to remember them all (or maybe I just don’t want to remember.)
married a great guy and gave birth to two kids (remember kids, childbirth is a good time to ‘just say yes to drugs’.)
scribbled in her notebook while watching her kids play sports (I did look up when I heard the crack of the bat. Still do.)
worked evenings at the grocery store (still does—heavy sigh.)
couldn’t help smiling when her imaginary friends said funny things (and still smiles at the wrong times.)
finished and self-published two love stories as Tammy J. Palmer.
is working on a mystery/suspense series set in Oregon.
To be added to her newsletter list, you can email her at firstname.lastname@example.org with the words “Sign me up” as the subject.