I understand now, 53 days in, why writing daily is important. And why it is crucial to stay on schedule. It is a dedication to a craft and it builds discipline. I thought I had about as much discipline as one redhead can contain, but there was evidently room for growth. Because I will say that about 30% of the time, I could have found a reason to skip writing. But I made a promise to myself to do this, so here I am.

I heard a time or two today “if you’da just kept your mouth shut…”. Other variations include: “You was broadcastin’ when you shoulda been receivin’” and “Mrs. Ivey, something to share with the rest of class?” “If you’d hush, I’d tell ye!” I’m sure there are others that evade me from over the years.

Yesterday after work, I parked myself at the only joint in town that serves pizza I will willingly eat. Gatlinburg Brewery. The beer is ok, but the pizza is off the chain. Or hook, whatever the current lingo is for Very Good. You better git yer goin’ britches on and try it soon. Through the week, this month only, they offer buy one get one. So go! Here’s a handy link https://gatlinburgbrewingcompany.com/menu-1 the Leaf Looker and the Basic AF are my favorites. I got the Spinny Dippin’ last night and added red pepper flakes but I think the sauce needs to be garlic instead of Alfredo. Just my take.

Tonight I’m headed back to Blackhorse with Kay so thought I better knock some of this out so I won’t be up till midnight. I don’t plan to drink anything heavier than beer; I’ve drank a little something every day this week and just ain’t feelin’ it. I’m not telling Kay, she’ll be disappointed. Not that I’m a different person with alcohol, but you know it’s not much fun drinking alone. She won’t notice after two or three glasses of Sauvignon Blanc, anyway 🤣🤣

….ok, back home now. I did have an espresso martini with white chocolate. I’d been craving one for awhile, and to appease Kay I did order one. But I didn’t really want it. I told myself it was dessert…even though I drank it before I had my meal 😁

So on the way down 411, I noticed something I didn’t notice last week because I went another way down and when I came back home it was dark. But at the mark on the road where Officer McCowan was tragically killed, a memorial of sorts has been erected. There was a cross, draped with blue tinsel and flowers arranged. On every wooden fence post bordering the road, there was a thin blue line flag. I imagine this was done by the landowners, or perhaps his brothers in blue. Many down that way had blue porch lights. It’s nice to see a community band together, but it came at a mighty high price. Kay and I discussed how fortunate we are to live in an area where we typically feel so safe. And how jacked up some people are. But there’s still a prevailing sense of security, because we know justice is going to be served. I hope that no count thug is terrified. I hope he’s shaking in his shoes every waking moment. I hope they don’t let him have shoes. I hope his dreams are haunted. I hope he feels hunted. Because he is. Like we all said for the Channon Christian and Christopher Newsom, hell, turn ‘em loose and let Gary Christian have his way. Or any of the rest of us.

And that main piece of total trash is still sitting pretty in jail, awaiting execution. Since 2007. And that’s something else to grind gears about. Here’s a link to a local news source, in case you aren’t familiar. But you can also wiki it. https://www.knoxnews.com/story/news/crime/2017/08/24/archives-horror-christian-newsom-killings-focus-what-happened-chipman-street/597805001/ it still turns my stomach and makes me clench my jaw. I hope hell is fit to receive those demons.

Driving down the scenic highway, I was struck, as I often am, by the rolling farmland. And how hard one particular landowner has fought the urbanization and imminent domain of the projected Pellissippi Parkway. How many hours of lost sleep has that farmer sacrificed, how much money and time has he sunk into defending what he and the generations before him scraped to buy and tend? How many people have admired a sunrise or sunset over his property, and watched cattle graze and corn tassel? How many rolls of hay have been put up and how many times does the combine traverse harvesting soybeans? How many hours does he toil? Are there grandkids? Is it in a trust? Will it ultimately matter?

People don’t take pictures of subdivisions. They take pictures of farms, of clean fields, of well kept barns. Everybody wants to live here but that means we’re just gonna be another Cleveland if we don’t protect what we have. I suppose growth is a necessary evil, but I don’t have to like it. The belching guy on my left last night at the pizza joint was from Washington State. He thoroughly enjoyed telling everybody in earshot this fact as he shoveled food and beer down his gullet. “Everything is so expensive here. We’re going back for a few years, get some money saved up, come back here, and hopefully marijuana will be legalized here by then.” Big dreams, this one. And a big talker. I could tell his girlfriend had reservations. I hope she wizens up before she moves across the country with this blow hard.

At any rate, here’s to the sunny slopes of yesterday, as Gus says.

Love (and resentment) from Appalachia,

~Amy