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Monthly Archives: February 2018
The irony was, I was running late because I was reading. Late to a Literary Festival because I had my nose buried in a book. Not even an approved good book. Just some mindless blip. I finished The Stand Friday. That’s right. I read it in less than two weeks, with another book knocked out in two days for book club. I would like my medal now. Please make the ribbon red for victory. If you can find me a riser and podium I’ll be glad to make a speech of encouragement to the rest of you lackadaisical commoners. I might need a crown, too. My current one isn’t quite ostentatious enough. But I’m getting ahead of myself, as usual. The Sevierville Chamber of Commerce puts on a Literary Festival once a year called Rose Glen. I’m not qualified to tell you about the history, but I found these two videos enlightening. They’re each about ten minutes long. Rose Glen Videos <—-If you think they’re not worth your time, or you’re just lazy (hey, I’m not here to judge, I have a hard time committing to anything over 30 seconds), let me just tell you so you’ll know-Rose Glen is that old house next to the Walter State Campus in Sevierville. You know, I always thought it was part of Johnny King’s…
I always do the best I can. It doesn’t always live up to my momma’s standards, or my boss’s, or heaven forbid, society’s, but I AM doing my best. My hair is a perfect example. Believe it or not, I color it, I use expensive shampoo and product, and have even had a keratin treatment. But most days it still looks like a mockingbird nest after a tornado. My best is not good enough. I use an expensive skincare regimen daily, but my skin is still far from perfect. I still get acne, and there’s nothing to be done about these forehead wrinkles. Let’s call them laugh lines. I buy the expensive makeup and apply it carefully. More likely than not, I’m going to look like a raccoon because I have yet to conquer the smoky eye. And I’ll probably forget my lipstick. And although I spend $50 a month on pedicures, my nails are still an uneven, raggety mess. I have accepted the fact that I will never be thin, partly because I’m lazy, and the rest is because I like food better than exercise. I won’t lie and tell you I don’t have time, because I could make time. But I’d rather read and pin recipes for fattening, delicious food. And make lists of places I would like to eat and what I will…
Every time I said “Happy Valentine’s!” to someone today, Joey would grunt, “Pea Plantin’ Day.” Now, I worked at the Co-op a long time, and I don’t remember this particular day in February being marked as that designated time to plant legimes, but it sounds about right. Although I doubt anybody was planting peas or anything else in this flood of biblical proportions. So, in honor of Joey’s- and evidently Southwest Virginia’s-pea planting roots, we’re having sugar snap peas with pork chops, taters, and onions tonight. I’m using a paste that I bought off our computer guru who still plays Grand Theft Auto with his other grown men friends. That’s right, computers and cooking condiments. He calls himself a nerd so the rest of us don’t have to. The lovely Tracy baked some cookies to perfection and delivered them in their little baggie tied with a wee bit of string to my place of employment this morning. Were they picture worthy? You betcha. Did I pause long enough to take a picture before gobbling them down? Not hardly. In my defense, I did share, though. There was a BOGO sale at the library today (speaking of nerds, right?) so naturally I stopped by. And found this lying in the parking lot. It kinda broke my heart. I could clearly picture some…
Shot one. Collective intake of breath, shuddering. Shot two. Sobs break out. Shot three. The men weep. The widow exhales and raises her chin, defiant and courageous. She is presented the flag from the honor guard as the hollow notes weave through the crowd behind her. She is elegant in her good jewelry and navy blue dress, poised on her sharp heels. I can see our breath on the air. The rain continues to fall, indifferent to our tears. The service is over. I can still detect the acrid odor of gunsmoke, silent and invisible now. He brought many of us together today, back in his hometown after so many years spent scattered the four directions the winds blow. Family from all over the world, friends he knew, some he never met through simpletractors.com. I knew one, a former supervisor at the Co-op. He said he’d never met Kent, but wanted to pay his respects. He’d never imagined seeing me there. You never know where I might pop up. Friends from his graduating class and mine, there with our aging parents. People I haven’t seen in many years, old neighbors and people with babies that I remember as babies themselves. There were pictures and his plaques commemorating a job well done for 27 years. A patriot, proud to serve. There were plenty of mourners and lots of handshakes and hugs. There were many…
I’m at the beauty shop today (there’s no such thing as natural beauty) and as usual, there was another client there expressing views and sharing gossip. I quickly learned what she did for a living, how long she’d done it, what she used to do for a living, and also gleaned what her son did for a living in the time it took for my hair to be foiled. While I was processing, I was also privy to what all was happening on her Facebook feed and what she didn’t comment on, although she would like to, but her kids would croak. Also, she would have filled us in on the plot line of This is Us, but it was way too complicated for her to get into. You really just had to watch it and focus. She implied we weren’t intelligent enough for it, but all I heard was she still didn’t have a good grasp of it, herself. Of course, our President came up in conversation by way of healthcare. I tried to tune out and concentrate on my book, which, ironically, is Ruby Ridge. Get it here. I gritted my teeth as the one-sided tirade wore on. Once she switched to capital punishment, I could hold it no longer. She was saying if you asked most people, they would support the death penalty, but if it was their own child, they’d feel…
Let me begin by saying I detest the cable company with every cell of my being. And now I will tell you why. If this was a power point demonstration, rest assured my laser would be blazing. First and foremost, as you AAALLLL know, I don’t watch TV. Any shows or movies worth seeing are bought and reside, commercial free, in the TV cabinet and neighboring bookcase. So I was loathe to have it installed here at the Plantation. However, when I thought I wanted to write for that magazine, it required me to submit articles via Microsoft Word and not Google documents. Therefore, I had to have a WiFi signal and laptop. Since my husband is a sports junkie and all things TV fan, and he had been deprived during the last five years with me, he coerced me into adding cable. At that time, their big promotion was the “bundle” and $29.99 per service with a free DVR for 12 months. What happened at the end of twelve months was anybody’s guess, but I had a pretty good idea. So I gave him plenty of warning: “This is your job. I do not deal with the cable company. I will pay the bill, with money you provide, but I am not dealing with the hassle of those people.” Those people, of course, being low-life, fast talking, cretins whose every intent is to confuse and upset me with their…
