Someday soon I hope to sleep through the night. Is that asking too much? Nothing extravagant, just like, 10:30- 6. Or even 9:30-5:30. Oh well. Other people have bigger problems.

It was pumpkin moving day and we were fresh out of lesbians. Like Kay said, “if you gotta move pumpkins, you’re gonna want a lesbian.” 🤣🤣 We had two help last year and they were the best! Oh well, we’d just have to get by the best we could.

So I get to the convention center at the appointed time and of course Kay’s nowhere in evidence, no surprise there. I was just pulling on gloves and second guessing if something had changed and I was at the wrong place when here came the convoy: U-haul (the one with the blue horseshoe crab logo, one of my favorites), Vern and flatbed trailer with one zillion pumpkins, and Amanda.
I thought the hard labor was over, since the roof was on the pavilion and I thought we were using Styrofoam bricks for the fireplace, but I thought wrong. I should have known. You can’t make a plan for that place, some catastrophe will occur and you have to improvise.
And of course, that’s what happened. More on that in a bit.

First, we had to go dig eight rocking chairs out of the containers at the back. And Amy promptly whacked her shins. I knew it was coming, but it was unavoidable. The way they were stacked, jammed upside down on top of one another, and I was bent over anyway, because those containers are only about 4′ tall…well, that’s just the way the cookie crumbles. After we got the chairs placed, then it was time to wheel all the carts out. That sounds easy enough, right? Carts have wheels. Sure they do.
Our carts have been used for two decades now. And they’re decorative, not really made to be rolled. Or not made to be rolled very far, I should specify. Certainly not across 100,000 square feet of carpet and tile.
But that’s what we do. Or, to be amusing, I should say, “that’s how we roll.” Hahaaha.
I had barely gotten the wagon out of the container when Amanda shrieked, “Amy! Your wheel!”
And sure enough, it goes rolling away, independent of the wagon.
Well, I couldn’t let go of my wagon, so her and her son go chase it down.
“Pilgrim, you got a wheel off in the ditch,” I immediately thought, and voiced.
Amanda never knew my uncle, but it was still funny as all get out and we had to take a moment to get our breath from laughing at the absurdity of it all.
So back to my wonky wagon.
It was missing a nut that held it onto the axle so we sent the kid in the crate with a flashlight to find it. It wasn’t there. We didn’t have any superglue or super powers. However, we have a backup wagon, which quickly rose to backup plan, so we got it pulled out, checked to make sure all nuts were in position (including the one pulling it), and began the Oregon Trail to the front. It was a long, arduous journey, but at least I didn’t get dysentery. And the oxen didn’t get marred in the mud and provisions lost. (It helped there was no mud or provisions…or oxen). That task complete, back for the little carts. And honestly, I’d rather pull a wagon! Those little carts, there’s all kinds of stuff wrong with them. Amanda was like, “Amy! Your spoke is broke on this one!”
Well, of course it is. And the metal wheels are no longer round. It’s like walking and having one leg shorter than the other. Insanity. But all you can do is laugh and press on. So that’s what we did.
And when we made it back to the front, there was Kay, knee deep in a problem. There was a lot of pointing going on and I tried to make myself unobtrusive with my rickety cart that was under strain from the signs we’d loaded onto it. I swear they are not made for load bearing. And we always make them bear a load.

So the deal with the fireplace was, the Styrofoam brick sections were the wrong size, about 6″ too short, and there wasn’t enough to even cut and stagger to make it work. So then we started discussing options. John was for shakes, Amanda was for stick-on tiles, and Amy didn’t care; I just wanted a doughnut.
John had conveniently journeyed to Krispy Kreme for his coffee fix and was kind enough to bring back an assorted dozen. The assortment was exactly how I order: 8 fresh glazed, 2 lemon filled, and 2 chocolate with custard. There was only one glazed left, but I was happy with the others, so I ate a lemon and Amanda and I split the last glazed. Dang, I could eat an entire dozen of the glazed, I know I could, no problem. (Welllll…it’d be a problem. Later, at the doctor, when I went in for bloodwork). Brentley sat across from me, sipping his coffee whilst critiquing it.
“You’re twelve,” I said, equally impressed and aghast that he knew enough about coffee to enjoy its merits. “I didn’t drink coffee will I was 35.”
He raised his eyes in surprise. I thought it was because I’d missed out on coffee that long. “How old are you now?”
“45.”
And his eyebrows shot off his head.
“How old did you think I was, 21?” I grinned and elbowed his momma, seated next to me.
“Yeah,” he said.
“You’re officially my favorite person today.”
He beamed.

After much heated discussion over a fake fireplace that would be torn down in five days, it was decided that John would ride with Kay to Lowes and decide on something. We all were relieved it was him and not us. We started moving straw and the big pumpkins.
They returned with boxes of pebble tile. Super heavy. This was moderately distressing, because it was two older men, three ladies, and one half pint kid. And no equipment allowed on the concrete. The fireplace was on it’s back, like a flipped turtle.
Like I told y’all yesterday, no way to go but through it.

Kay was ready for lunch and I wasn’t opposed to that plan. We headed to Arby’s, because it was close. Even though they’d had that yesterday. And even though Kay couldn’t remember how to get there. I kept having to point (and at one intersection voice) a left turn. “Oh, is this is already?” She asked, truly shocked.
“I thought you were just here yesterday?” I could have sworn that’s what they said. Surely she didn’t drive to Pigeon Forge when this one was right here.
“I was, I just forgot. I thought it was on down.”
I shook my head. Yesterday was an adventure, too, Amanda filled me in. They’d sat there inside ad got their food, then needed to bring back something for Vern and John. So instead of going up and getting in line, they’d went out to the truck and joined the line that was wrapping around the building. Are you kidding me. Sharon and Kay should never, ever, meet. Her defense was the line inside was just as long and moving just as slow as the drive through line, and wouldn’t you rather be sitting down with the air blowing on you, instead of standing in line with a bunch of sweaty strangers? I do admit, she has a point, but I still wouldn’t have burned the gas for it, especially if I was already inside.
To further demonstrate my point of what a good kid Brentley was: he never made a peep in line, he didn’t get food everywhere, he was happy with his chicken and fries. He had pitched in to help every step of the way, all day. I was pretty impressed.
“You just like him because he said you look young,” Amanda said as I sang his merits.
“That’s true,” I conceded.
“She does!” Brentley piped up.
“Lord, kid, you’re already my favorite, you don’t have to butter my biscuit!”

We get back. The men had been gluing the tiles on, or whatever it is you do to it, then the grout. I wasn’t paying much attention, we were building the displays just inside the front doors and polishing pumpkins. I was more concerned about the lack of mini pumpkins that Kay insisted were in the bottom of one of the big boxes.
They were not.
Oh well, that’ll be tomorrow’s problem, mark my words. Nobody was concerned today.
I felt superfluous once Kay got to strategically placing pumpkins and plants, so I set my eye on this poor bear who looked like he was tangled in a sea of algae. It was supposed to look like he was holding an evergreen.
After 20+ years in a crate stored in some non climate controlled warehouse, the tree had seen it’s glory days. But here I am to save the daaaaay!!!
They finish the display and I gave the bear my best shot but he’d still need some work when I got time. It was time to go outside to build the straw/ pumpkin/ mum displays. I’m helping determine perimeters and notice John looks a bit stressed.
John never looks stressed.
He’s frantically rubbing the grout, explaining it dried quicker (much quicker) than expected and asks me to lend a hand. But he only had one sponge.
Pumpkin moving towels! Pumpkin polishing towels to the rescue! Yes!
But you couldn’t get it too wet, or the grout got liquified again. A delicate balance, tile work.
Pretty soon, Kay noticed the three of us having a simultaneous meltdown and her and Amanda come over to help. We’re all five clustered around this fake fireplace, giving it all we’ve got. It’s working, but the water needed changed, as it was now cloudy from all the grout we’d removed.
Did I mention there’s no access to a spigot outside? We have to buy bottled water for the flowers. It’s completely ridiculous. So while everybody is rushing around, figuring out where to drain grout water (at the storm drain, duh) and where to fill up the buckets and rinse the rags, I had an epiphany.
Just across from us, in the center of the complex, is a huge, gorgeous fountain.
I took off.
Kay was screaming, “It’s green, it’ll ruin it!”
No, what’s gonna ruin it is ten extra pounds of grout on those pretty little pebbles.
So I sloshed my grout-y rags around in the pondwater, effectively rinsing them, and go back to the group who have now emptied 36 water bottles into a galvanized tub. Mmmm-hmmm.
We wiped and wiped and wiped. Vern and John worked with chisels. Even Kay was reduced to silence as we concentrated on getting the majority of gray grout from the shiny pebbles. It was working, but it was slow going.
After awhile, and several more trips to the fountain, she got to looking at it and decided it looked more natural, more like what you would see in a National Park, and declared us done. I went to rinse out the washtubs before they set up with cement. Everybody was now on board with my green pondwater idea. Probably because they were out of bottled water, but whatever.
“Sure feels good to be a rebel!!” I hollered, swinging my tub from two fingers as I came back across the road.
They’re all clustered around the mock fireplace, looking constipated. Kay had her gloved hands on her hips. This looked….ominous.
“We gotta lift this,” John informed me.
I looked around for firemen, policemen, Navy Seals.
I saw two retired men, three well fed women, and a kid. “We??” I squeaked.
He grinned. “Grab hold.”
“Where???”
Him and Vern hefted the mammoth thing off the ground and the rest of us hurriedly grabbed hold of the edges and lifted. Once it got higher than my head I ducked under and walked up, supporting. If anybody slipped, I was squished flatter than a flitter, like the coyote under the Acme lead weight. Oh well. It’d make a good story, and that’s all I’m after.

Miracle of miracles, our barn raising- I mean, fireplace raising- was a success, it fit in the notch of the pavilion just like it was made to do. We high fived, then John and Vern set in to applying grout on the bottom third and figuring out how to attach the mantel. I got to work trimming the moldy parts from the underside of mums and deadheading. Last year they got frostbite, this year they got too hot in the truck and molded. It’s always something, like I said. I’m not talking a dozen $7.99 mums. I’m talking 200 $30 mums. Good thing I find deadheading therapeutic. I pulled up a patch of sidewalk and got busy. In no time, I had a 30 gallon trash bag full of dead plant. I also had an almost dead bumblebee. I hoped it wasn’t dying but merely sleeping. I guess I’d know in the morning. I tried not to disturb it as I trimmed and whittled. Poor guy. Pollinators are so important. I hoped it hadn’t got into the moldy blooms. It had been warm all day but now that the sun was setting on the last day of “old time” it was getting cool. I wished him the best, and hoped to see him the next day.

I drove home, the back way through the hollers, and reflected on how good it felt to have done manual labor. It’s been awhile. It’s fun working with people for a change, too. John kept the radio cranked up on WIMZ, and that’s a plus for me (not anybody else) because I know the majority of the words to most of the songs. I felt alive, if tired. I felt needed and appreciated. I felt like if I didn’t get a hot shower I was going to set up like that fireplace grout and they’d have to bring their chisels to get me unattached from my couch in the morning.

I’ll probably sleep just fine tonight. Or die like the bumblebee, one.

Love from Appalachia,
Amy