I’ve had a semi-eventful weekend, as far as things go in my hermit life.

Friday morning, as usual, found me at IHOP. I love their crepes, what can I say? When I opened the first set of doors, I was greeted by a buggy full of grocery bags stuffed with…well, stuff, I guess. Possessions. Clearly the style favored by the homeless. Seated on the bench, facing the bright sunshine coming in over the tops of the trees, was an old black woman. “Good morning,” I chirped brightly to her. Then I realized she must be the owner of the buggy and bags, and probably had some mental health issues and would not understand me.

“Good morning,” she returned clearly.

Huh. How bout that?

Before I had time to puzzle on her much more, I was led to my table. The thought did cross my mind that if I were a better person I would offer for her to dine with me, but I’m not that brave. When I looked back for her, she and her buggy were gone.

The poor waitress was the server for the entire dining room, and looked like I felt most days. She was making laps with drinks, straws, and food. Another girl finally showed up to help and she relaxed a little.

I’ve discovered it’s pretty much impossible for me not to eavesdrop at IHOP. I’m by myself, the internet doesn’t enthrall me, and people talk loud. Their problems are on full display. There were a couple of gentlemen across the way bidding a job. I’m not sure if the other guy was supposed to be telling him as much as he should, it was like he had insider information. There was a group of deaf people, so obviously I don’t know what they were talking about. And the couple seated in the booth I was facing, well, she had problems.

It’s funny when you hear stranger’s woes. You’re totally removed from the situation, and it has not escaped my notice that I’m pretty detached, anyway. I don’t know if that comes from my former job, where if you had a big problem, somebody died. This stuff with your boss not liking how you schedule is not a big issue. If she doesn’t like it, she should show you a better way. Or you could take it to her every week for approval until you get it right. Or find a different job, because it sounds like you hate it there, anyway. The poor guy she was with just sat there patiently while she got it all out. By the time he had his turn to speak, I was all absorbed in my breakfast and had lost interest. You can see why.

IHOP is glorious.

I had a hair appointment that I was about four weeks overdue for, so my plan was to swing into Food City and pick up a few things and then head to the salon. However, the universe had a slightly different version. Nothing major- Christy text me that I could come on, she had a cancellation, which works to my benefit. I went straight over to give her a little breathing room. I was processing, and having the most stimulating conversation with this other client about books, when my phone rang.

It was my boss.

My boss NEVER calls me.

Never, ever, EVER.

Naturally, I panic. I freeze. Something has gone so wrong, I just know it. It was because I was judging that woman at IHOP a little bit ago. I must have gone white, and me stopping in the middle of a thought is a dead giveaway that something is wrong, because Christy paused her clipping and was like, “What is it?”

I have no choice but to answer. Face the music. I can always go work at Tractor Supply. They have low standards.

“Hello?”

“Amy, you know I don’t ever bother anybody on their day off because it ain’t right and I don’t like to, and I’m really sorry but I have to and I’m in Knoxville–”

“What’s wrong?” I cut him off. I can’t stand it.

“That bid you turned in yesterday-”

Oh God, oh God…

I’m not going into the rest of it to bore you to tears but it wasn’t any big deal, he just needed me to send it to someone else and since it had been so large a file, I had sent it through Dropbox, and nobody was really certain how to do it. So all I had to do was call the other Christy in my life and walk her through it. Presto chang-o.

I wiped the red goop off my phone and went back to book recommendations. After my rinse, I was back in the chair, and before I knew it, the other lady was showing me her clogging skills. I was trying to convince her to join my class. I think she just might. I was also telling her about book club, and how she might enjoy either the one I’m a part of, or Fireside, but they meet in the middle of the day, and that probably wouldn’t work until she retired from her teaching position.

Christy started cackling. I raised my eyebrows, unable to look at her, seeing as how my jugular was centimeters away from her scissors. “It’s just…Nancy is gonna be like, ‘I’m taking up clogging! And I have all these new books to read! And I’m joining a book club!’ And her husband is gonna be like, ‘What happened?‘ And she’s gonna say, ‘I met this redhead today….'”

I smiled great big. I love it when I change a life.

Christy went on to wonder what it’s like for my husband, when he’s telling people about me. “‘Yeah, my wife reads a lot. She’s in a book club. She’s on the board at the library. Oh, no, she works full time, she’s a secretary. Yeah, and she blogs and clogs…'”

“And she’s shithouse rat craaaazy,” I completed for her.

“Noooo!!!” She howled, swatting me.

I am, though.

My life has become increasing busy here lately. I like having an activity. I have become quite sedentary as of late. After exchanging emails, I was on my way to my next destination. I always see people I know at the grocery store, (hazard of a small town), and more often than not, I am genuinely happy to catch up. This time I was checking out before I saw a familiar face. One of my farriers from the Co-op, of course. It took him a minute to place me after I spoke (last time he saw me I was blonde and 30 pounds lighter) but recognition came into his eyes and he strode over to hug me. He told me he was chatting with a mutual friend the other day and said “I haven’t seem Amy in I don’t know when, but I sure do miss her!” He knew where I was working and I told him some things hadn’t changed: people still call me for feeding recommendations, and worming directions, and what to plant and when to fertilize. We had a good laugh and he went on his way.

Next: Let’s See If We’re Still Early Voting On My End of the County

Sure enough, we are. Of course, lots of familiar faces there, too. More catching up. “How’s life outside the Co-op?”

“Better than I could have imagined,” I admit with a genuine smile.

“Let me just get you to verify your information. Still at {rattles off my address}?”

“Yes.”

“Primary?”

“865-216–”

He interrupts me with a braying laugh. “No, Republican or Democrat?”

I laughed so hard I almost couldn’t answer him. I mean, hello? What was I supposed to think? Phone number always comes after address. And we were just talking about the Co-op, where your order always starts with your phone number. Shit fire.

Luckily, everyone in the room was laughing with me. Another lady said she didn’t feel so bad now, since she’d given some sort of crazy information herself unprompted.

Leave it to me.

I caught up with yet another of my former customers just outside after turning in my ballot and getting my sticker.

He told me about the decline of his neighbor, a tough old man I had finally worn down with my charms after a few years. I hated to hear he was unwell, but I’m confident he’ll pull through. He’s that kind of guy. I asked about Jerry’s family, and he asked if I was still married 🙂 This is the oldest of jokes. As always, it was followed by, “He’s a good man.” Which is also true. Another hug, and I was off again. I wanted to go by the local nursery and get some flowers for my crumbling planters. And some basil to go with my cherry tomatoes and mozzarella pearls. I ended up dazzled and amazed by all the varieties of their plants. I wanted it all. I so wish I had the time and energy to devote to making my yard a garden like my Mamaw maintained next door. But I’m lazy. And I clog. Haha.

By the time I got home, I was past due for a nap, and since I had gotten the majority of housecleaning done before my hair appointment (all I was gonna do, anyway) I decided a nap was in order. Shug was in the tattoo chair and wouldn’t be home for awhile.

When I woke up, I had some texts from my girls. I couldn’t concentrate on anything until I got something to eat. I declared I was starving and the plan was made that we meet for Mexican at mine and Tracy’s favorite location, the one Rhonda calls La Cucaracha. Because of one person happening to find a critter in their frijoles eons ago. I was the first to arrive, because I was the hungriest, I guess. I wasted no time ordering fortification in liquid form.

We had a great time, and got loud and rambunctious as always. And we each only had one. But they were potent, I tell you! I saw the son and daughter-in-law of the man I had spoken with at the voting station, the very ones I had inquired about. I couldn’t catch their eye to tell them about the coincidence, though. Then one of the girls in my dance class came through (I did get to speak to her on my way out). At 8:45 I started panicking. “It’s dark,” I announced worriedly.

Conversation continued.

“It’s 9:00!” I yelped.

“Look at us, among the living!” Tracy exclaimed, surprised herself.

“I gotta get home! It’s so late!” This is not sarcasm. I really prefer to be in bed by 9:30. Shug was camping, so I had no one to actually come home to, but no matter. “I’ve had such an exhausting day!”

“You were off today! You took a nap!” Rhonda protested.

“I’m still so tired! I had lots of interaction with the masses!”

She shook her head and reached for her glass. “After your leisurely breakfast at IHOP and then a visit to the beauty parlor…”

My dear friend sounds a little mean, but she’s probably the sweetest one. She just likes trying to keep me in perspective.

So we slurped the final dredges from our cactus glasses (aafter we debated about this woman I swore up and down was a hooker) and made our goodbyes in the parking lot. I got home, shed my bra & washed my face, and collapsed on the couch once again. I read as much as I could until my eyes drooped.

What a great day off, with two more in front of me.

So yesterday, I fixed breakfast for us and then Shug took off to the rod run with a friend who has recently acquired a candy apple red Corvette. Talk about flashy. Here at the modest plantation, I finished my book, took a nap, and had Chick-fil-a for lunch. I’m one of those dumb people who will sit in the drive-thru that has cars wrapped around the building instead of going in. (It was packed in there, too, but the main reason I didn’t want to was because my shoes didn’t match my outfit). I love Chick-fil-a. Ten minutes in the drive-thru is a small price to pay for delicious chicken.

Time to plant flowers.

I have this vinca vine that is going to be the death of me. I also have another vine that has been here since before I was born that is the bane of everyone’s existence. They struggle for life in my flowerbed by the redbud I tried valiantly to kill when I thought it was just a super hardy weed. After making two worms out of one, I called it a day. I did get everything in the ground or a planter. My Columbine has really came along in the past year. I started it from seeds!

It’s Annual Call For Aloe, you guys! So let me know. We haven’t moved them outside yet, but I can assure you, I am, as always, overrun. I ended my time outside with a tick crawling along my arm. Yech. Immediate shower and supper at 10 p.m.

Now or a last few runs of laundry and make a big dent in my latest book. Hillbilly Elegy came through on my Kindle yesterday but I’m still not convinced I want to read it. I’m scared it will make me angry to a point I will want to go burn the books. Hence me getting it electronically. And I need to practice my Rooster Run and High Horse.

My weekend probably doesn’t seem like much to many of you, and I hope you don’t feel cheated after reading all this, but I feel very fortunate for the life I lead. I consider it full and enriching and I generally have a really good time. If you would like to join in, please give me a holler. You know where to find me. (Right here, goobers. Comment and I’ll get with you!) And then you can say, “So I met this Redhead….”