I could have written when I woke up this morning, while the house was quiet and I was snug under my Christmas quilt. I could have told about all the things I’d eaten the night before, and how I was in no hurry to scarf down breakfast. I could have expounded on the many virtues of my host, or how Bowling Green has a few things I wish we had in Sevier County, Tennessee. Like the Tostitos Salsa Verde chips I was finally able to procure. But at least we didn’t have any kind of weather to write home about. I was thankful for calm skies this trip.

I could have written from the passenger seat of the Ford as we made our way back home, via the circuitous path via Portland that pains me, apart from the giant strawberries and Hereford bull. I could have told you about the nice man at the gas station who has a truck just like this one, and how we wants a diesel F250 and a fifth wheel in order to travel indefinitely. I told him to go for it.

I could have collected my thoughts, at least, so when I sat down to write tonight, in the soft glow of my still-decorated Christmas tree, I would have a real topic and an idea of what my first post of the new year should say. I would appear to you as a responsible adult with clear goals and the capabilities to achieve them.

But instead, you are chipping your way through this, wondering if I’ll ever get to it, and if I do, will it even be worth the five minutes of your time? You’re unsure if you’ll agree with what I say once I do make my point, and you hope I’m not going to complain about the absolute WASTE that I find fireworks to be.

I am so tired, and I barely did anything besides ride and listen today. My aunt and I decided, on the whole, women passengers aren’t as likely to nap as our male counterparts. We’re geared higher, in her words. I tend to agree. I want to be alert to any dangers, but I also don’t want to miss anything. I like seeing cows, and reflecting on the weather, and picking out cars I think I would like to own. Or maybe just remarking on the color of the vehicle or the intelligence of the one behind the wheel. And I need to control what I can— that being the thermostat and the radio.

My mind is on tasks to be completed tomorrow: pin down the exact time for a committee meeting, call some board members, start 1199s, get dog food. The dog food is a chore unto itself, as Chester’s brand had a recall some time ago and still isn’t back in stock.

I just finished a piece of cake that’s so rich it needs its own tax bracket: Elvis Presley cake. It is unknown to me what makes it an Elvis cake, but I certainly took care of business when I got down to eating it. All it is is a butter cake, baked bakery style {butter in place of oil, milk in place of water, add an egg and vanilla}. While it’s baking, heat a can of crushed pineapple and a cup and a half of sugar. Take the cake out, jab holes throughout, and dump sugar/ pineapple mix over it. Allow to soak in and cool completely, then frost with cream cheese icing (block of cream cheese, stick of butter, pound of powdered sugar, and vanilla).

My GAWD.

It kind of reminds me of my cousin’s piña colada cake, but a thousand times richer. I think it would be delectable with cool whip frosting, as well, with the added incentive of not causing type II diabetes overnight.

I’ve just spent several minutes hunting my word count. Maybe that’s something not available on the app. I’m writing on my tablet.

Funny how the word tablet has always meant “an object on which one writes” (or doodles), but the object itself has evolved from a rock, to paper, to a digital device. Hmm. We all must evolve, or risk being left. I admit I am not one for big changes. I don’t necessarily fight, but I do tend to stick with what I know. Hard to fix something that ain’t broke, in my book.

I wonder where the year will take me. Some things are much better in my life today than they were a year ago. But I’ve lived long enough to realize most stuff will flip. Nothing gold can stay, Ponyboy. But here’s hoping. And here’s to me being able to share it with y’all.

Happy New Year. May we all prosper peacefully, and may we all be able to laugh our way through it.

Love from Appalachia,

Amy