Today was the Christmas party for NRCS. I am happy to go, it’s the only time I see some of those people. So I fixed breakfast and had my coffee and although I didn’t have to be there till 10, I was still almost late. Time just gets away from me of the morning. I tend to get involved with a little housework or whatever and then there I am, rushing around. And I couldn’t wear my planned outfit because it was already over 60 degrees.
I decided to take those brownies I made a few months ago and froze. They were so rich, I made them like I make my box cakes where you substitute butter for oil, and milk for water, and add an egg. It’s too much for brownies, in my opinion. I figured I could eat them with ice cream to cut the sweetness, but I never did, and this presented the perfect opportunity to get rid of them. Especially since I didn’t care what this bunch thought. It ain’t like I see them every day and have to hear about how awful they were 🤣🤣
I cut each full sized brownie into fourths. That might make them more palatable, too. I arranged them on one of my pretty Christmas platters, since presentation is half of it. Again, not that I expected this bunch to notice.
JA called right on cue at 8:05, when I was still on my couch with my dog, sipping my coffee placidly. “Are you already at work?” Surprise was clear in his voice.
This was amusing on multiple counts because #1. I’m supposed to start work at 8. Generally when he calls, I’m clearly still driving. #2. the use of “already” when I should have been there at least five minutes ago. #3. The fact that he was shocked I could potentially BE at work, like I should be.
Now, this is not to say I roll in twenty minutes late every day (or thirty, or an hour, like someone I know). But I am frequently two minutes late. It would be different if there were people there beating down the doors. And if I were a person who often took full advantage of lunch breaks. I am not. So me being five minutes late with some regularity shouldn’t be all that punishable of a crime.

Today is Sam’s birthday so a call was definitely in order. I decided to grace him with my rendition of Happy Birthday. I kept it traditional, and he let me go all the way through it, so I must’ve not sounded too atrocious. Uncle Dale always said he liked my singing, and Tammy does, too, but I think it’s more the confidence I throw into it. I have no shame.

I was so relieved to find the meeting hadn’t started yet, because, per my usual, I was about 5 minutes late. Cynthia greeted me with her dazzling smile and popped up to squeeze my neck. “Oh, I’m so glad you brought something! You’re only the second person who has! And the other is store bought cookies.” She wrinkled her nose.
“Don’t get too excited, they’re not very good.” I told her, and Amy D. brayed with laughter. “No, seriously! They were so rich I couldn’t eat them. That’s why I brought them here!”
Amy explained she had made chess bars, but baked them too long and they just didn’t turn out right. I told her she should have brought them anyway, nobody would care if they even noticed. But I get it. It’s easy to be ashamed. Cynthia was fretting, wondering if she should go buy a cake or something, and as usual, I was telling her not to worry about it, if people wanted to complain, ask them what they brought to share. But Cynthia isn’t direct like me.
When I turned, a lady with short hair grabbed ahold of me. I was momentarily baffled, then I realized it was my old DC, Amber!! “You’ve cut all your hair off!!” I declared to everyone in earshot. “I didn’t know you!”
I stood at the back and scanned the crowd. I always sit with different people at this shindig, usually ones I don’t see often enough. Since Sam retired, I didn’t want to plop down with Mike, Bobby, and Tyler, but Tyler was outside and I didn’t see Bobby. Susan was sitting this one out, due to her illness and low immune response. Cynthia would remain at registration, having to oversee food delivery, too. I looked for my boys. Ugh, there they were, down front. Of course they were. But at least the meeting was getting a late start, otherwise I would garner some unwanted attention making my way around in my high heeled boots.
I stopped for a doughnut and to catch up with Natalie, who was holding court on the end with her leg bundled and stretched out in front of her. A car wreck on November 16th, she informed me. First surgery was the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. She rattled off a string of injuries that made me wince just hearing them. Maybe Jake mentioned it, maybe not.
I had no more than gotten settled with my doughnut than Feno dropped his bomb that he was shuffling all of us around. We were to determine the last number on our nametags and seek out that table number, potentially sitting with people we weren’t familiar with.
There was only one person in the whole room I hoped to avoid, and I prayed God would see fit to keep us separated today. It would be the best for everybody, honestly.
Luckily, fortune smiled.
I wound up seated next to Allison, who was full of news. Her parents have a rescue pittie as well, so we always catch up on our dogs. I told her I missed seeing her at the workshop. Turns out, she’s pregnant! She’s a very cute pregnant girl, all belly and she has that glow. We discussed house building and the endless wait for windows. Turns out, she wasn’t even in my group, and neither was Bobby, who sat down on my left side. He knew he was cheating, though.

Kinsley was across from me, she’s familiar to me, at least, due to being friends with David all these years, plus being Susan’s DC. There was a guy I met my first year or so, and then two newbies. Feno joined us. We were tasked with telling a story of our best or worst Christmas gift, and whoever had the one that elicited the most emotion, was to be told to the group at large by the newest member in our group. It’s difficult to come up with something on the spot, but luckily I had a few things rush to my brain. Childhood Christmas memories are fairly sparse, being as my great-grandmother was a Jehovah’s Witness so we had to be covert in our celebrations. I have been proposed to at Christmas, three times now, but I didn’t want to share any of those stories, as none have a happy ending. I told them we do Dirty Santa at Kevin’s but the catch is there’s a $3 limit, which forces you to be creative. The best ones are homemade: like the framed picture of Steve in a tutu. I decided to stick with a memory from last year, when Lisa gave me the ornament with tiny replicas of all my favorite books inside. That was very thoughtful and unique. Some of the worst ones were the ones Johnny’s Dad and Stepmother gave me: one year a hideous purple shirt that looked like it was a maternity top, but was a 3x. I ain’t a small girl, but I ain’t no 3x. Or the year they gave me a sampler detailing kit for my truck. Like, three mini trash bags, a travel Kleenex sized package of Armor All wipes, and a cigarette lighter charging cord. Not that this is a terrible gift, mind you. But when we’d spent about $200 on a nice basket from the Apple Barn, it fell a little flat.
They always gave their son an undisclosed amount of money. Kinda like my family did for him, as well.
Anyway. No worries, my story got topped by the guy I was vaguely acquainted with. He and his girlfriend at the time (wife now) had been goofing off trying on belts, and she put one around her booty as a joke. It was the same size as his waist. So when she mentioned later on that she actually wanted and needed a belt, he ordered her the same size as his, clearly not thinking.
It’s the sizing that aways get you in trouble.
Kinsley said they don’t give gifts in her family, they never have, they select a couple of kids off the Angel Tree. That’s very nice, but not gonna win the group over unless you have the story of giving the gift to the child and they erupt into tears or whatever.
They ended up changing the rule about the newest employee telling the story, to the original storyteller. That made more sense, anyway, that way you wouldn’t miss any pertinent details.
I was excited when David gained the podium. I already knew what he was going to tell. I will publish it here for posterity. I put it on my Facebook years ago, with the promise not to tell who it was. I guess he’s got over his awkwardness about it since he shared it with all of us.
“So, you know the standard practice of putting milk and cookies out for Santa. Some people put carrots for Rudolph. Well, for whatever reason in my family, we became focused on all the reindeer. Not just Rudolph. And the question was, what do they eat? Who feeds them? Well, my parents were young, and we lived in a single wide trailer. My dad would climb up there on Christmas Eve with a bale of hay and scatter it around. We’d watch. Overnight, we’d sometimes hear all the commotion on the roof. Sometimes we were asleep. But we knew it was the reindeer, because the next morning, all the hay was gone.” He paused. I was grinning ear-to-ear. “I still, to this day, don’t know where all the hay went. WE didn’t have a barn to put it in. So that’s my Christmas story…it wasn’t about a gift.”
And if anybody in that room that it was indeed about a gift: a gift of magic from a dad to his two sons, well, they probably miss the whole point of Christmas, too.

Paul also shared one that wasn’t necessarily his story, if you wanted to be obtuse about it. He was working at a homeless shelter, or maybe a food pantry….or maybe it was his church. At any rate, they had bundled a meal, a coat, and shoes together for people who had signed up. He said this one guy came through who looked like a tough biker. He handed him the parcel and the guy wept. He said he was 36 years old and it was the first Christmas gift he’d ever received. Paul stood still. “I just thought about a little boy, going his entire childhood, and never receiving a gift. And the first one he gets is something everybody should just have, that’s not a traditional fun gift. And he was so thankful. So my story wasn’t funny, but it’s the one I felt compelled to share.”
David actually told his after this, saying it was a tough act to follow, but I think he done just fine.

Our guest speaker started off strong, with Rudolph’s tale told like the guy on HeeHaw who spoke in inverted/ dyslexic half-words. We were all heehawing about halfway through. Unfortunately, his presentation was a bit mundane and I felt my eyes drift closed once or twice. Oh well. They should have asked me to get Kim DeLozier. He’s become very popular among our set. For good reason; he can spin a tale.

It was time for lunch, but I wasn’t very hungry, since I’d eaten two eggs, bacon, a banana bread muffin, and then that danged doughnut. I had zero business eating a doughnut.
I decided to seek out Cynthia instead of standing in line for food I wasn’t very interested in.
She was right where I knew she’d be- sitting there at registration. Tyler snuck up behind me and wrapped me in a big hug. “Did you grab me on your way in this morning?”
“You got a lot of redheads grabbing on you?”
A bigger squeeze for an answer.

Then the one that I was trying valiantly to avoid came shuffling up. Luckily, Amy D declared it dinnertime and we joined the line without further conversation. I spotted Luke and David standing around outside with their hands crammed down in their pockets. David has been stationed at Kingston for a few months now and we all miss him like crazy.
“Y’all bein’ snobs??? Come eat!!” I hollered. Just then I realized they were having the blessing. That was kind of backwards, the first few tables were already through eating and there were still several people in line. And here’s my big mouth broadcasting over hill and dale about snobbery. Great.
“We were trying to cool off,” Luke told me.
“Usually they freeze you to death in here, but not today. It’s crazy the thermostat is located elsewhere. I always thought that was a lie when they told us that in school. Did you see that couple earlier? I followed them up the steps. One of them had on a camouflage coat– with the hood pulled up!!”

We got in line behind Matt, who motioned gallantly, proclaiming, “Ladies first.” I expected a snort from Luke, saying he didn’t see a lady, but he minded his manners (or maybe I just didn’t hear him). I explained I was in no rush. He apologized for not ever making it back to another board meeting, and I told him I had instructed Addison to extend the invitation to our Christmas meeting and meal this Thursday. He started studying on it. I saw the wheels turning.
“You can say you can’t come, it’s ok, but we really did aim to invite you.”
He said he didn’t think he’d be able to make it, but he did truly appreciate the invitation.
As I picked out some pieces of turkey, I turned to David. “Did you propose yet?”
“Not yet,” he sighed, with an air of weariness.
“Wow, she just blindsided you with that!” Matt commented, tongs suspended over the rolls.
“Oh, no, we’re tight, we talk all the time,”
“Yeah, no, we’re good,” David assured him. “It’s valid.”
Still no ring, but I didn’t get any further details, much to my chagrin.

I took my plate back to my table, where Bobby awaited, all smiles. He pulled out my chair. “I told you I was coming back.”
He was bragging on the chocolate no bakes. I remember they were a big hit last year, too. I love them too, very much. “You know what I’d like to have, though? Tater candy.”
We were working our way through a list of our favorite candy and I had stood up to throw my plate away when someone eased up behind me and put their hand on my shoulder.
“Is he bothering you, ma’am?”
I had jumped a mile and was walking back when I realized it was only Tyler again. For whatever reason, that reminded me of that couple that knew Bobby I met when JA & I were looking at their land yacht. I started racking my brain for details. It didn’t take long for Bobby to put it together and I texted JA for name verification. Sure enough, same people. He said he went to high school with her. I gave him a few details about how wild I presumed them to be and he confirmed. Tyler was getting his ears full. Bobby eyed me steadily. “But you’re having trouble catching another husband, aren’t you?”
He has no idea.
“Well, the problem is I don’t try to catch them. But they’re not beating down my doors, either.”
“No, the problem is there aren’t many left with balls big enough to take you on,” Tyler interjected.
“That’s the truth,” I agreed, rolling my eyes. “Gotta be more assertive than me.”
“Ehh, you don’t want no weakling,” Tyler said. “You’d have him quelled before the honeymoon was over.”
“I know that’s right. That’s why I don’t bother.”
“Well, you look good. Prettiest girl here.”
“Thank you, but Addison’s still my favorite DC.”
He looked like I’d kicked his dog.
“It’s things like that that keep me single, isn’t it?”
We all cracked up. I turned and went to find Addison and tell him. “I almost made Tyler cry,” I gleefully admitted.
Then I went to wash up and ran into Amber. She filled me in on her dog, who has torn the canine equivalent of an ACL. The surgery is bare minimum $5300 to $7,000. “I believe I’d just let her limp,” I said.
“Well, that’s just it. I was talking to somebody else who had their dog’s fixed and it still limps.”
“What the heck?!”
“Exactly.”
She’s still enjoying her house, said she’s so glad she bought it. I didn’t ask if she ever got the claw foot bathtub installed.
Here came Cynthia. “Should I be worried there weren’t more desserts?” She asked Amber, who shrugged it off.
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Amber was telling her.
“Ahh, let her worry about it, she’s gotta worry about something!” I ribbed Cynthia. I hope I didn’t hurt her feelings. But really, who cares? If people want dessert, they should help provide it. That information was included in the email. If I read it and remembered, there’s no reason everybody else couldn’t have, too.

After a leisurely lunch that still wasn’t long enough for all the socializing I longed to do (isn’t it strange I have more people to talk to than I do with the district bunch??? Have I really established more lasting, deep friendships with the ones here?? And look what a hard go it was in the Queen’s reign. So funny.) we got the updates for the Area from all the department heads. I basically remember two:
Amber told us the most important thing wasn’t deadlines, it was family. To be sure and appreciate the people you had here, and make memories while you could. Spend time with friends and family that you love. Take the time off. It’s Christmas.
And then Stacy, the lead engineer stepped up. She held a paper. She began to read. And then she began to cry.
All the side conversations ceased and we became very still.
“I have seen lots of devastation since the flood….things I never dreamed of….it’s just really, really good to see you all…and to know you’re all ok…there are places that are just….gone….and anyway, I’m very thankful that you’re all ok and I can see you….”
Sniffles began to be heard throughout the room, myself among them. So this was unexpected. Stacy had never struck me as a sympathetic type.

The mood lifted with the presentation of awards. Tyler got a 5 year plaque that only took him 15 total years, which prompted Bobby into telling the story about the time he pulled the chair out from under him. He said he felt terrible about it, but he was grinning like a mule eating sawbriars when he said it, so I have my doubts.
The guy that always wears the drunken reindeer blazer and looks like Walker off Yellowstone was sitting at the next table over, just behind us, agreed.
“I’m just surprised he didn’t quit after those three months with me,” I commented under my breath.
“Oh, surely you weren’t that bad…”
“I wasn’t. I’d fix him biscuits and gravy.”
Well. It didn’t take me but just a second to get upstaged. His former secretary in Middle Tennessee used to cook for the whole staff every morning. Said she’d get there at five!!! And that was after feeding her entire family and cleaning her own kitchen.
“Oh, I ain’t never gonna be that good,” I said. I wouldn’t even want to. That’s insanity.

The meeting broke up and I helped gather centerpieces, trash, and tablecloths. Then I gathered my possibles and started my southern goodbye.
A southern goodbye is a goodbye that stretches 30+ minutes when it should last two minutes. You tell everybody bye at least ten times, then think of something unrelated you wanted to tell them, so you tell them that, which leads to a similar experience from their side, then you tell them bye again. Repeat ad nauseum.
So I was standing there doing that when the one I was trying valiantly to avoid came out. I kept my back angled away from him so as not to encourage conversation. He then asks the least likely candidate in our group to go smoke. And she accepts.
My jaw drops. I looked at Luke Duke. “What….am….I seeing???”
“It happens,” he said.
“My eyes, my eeeeyyyyesssss….” I lamented. It was the oddest combination I could ever fathom. But they appeared to be having a good time, as conversation continued from their patch of concrete.

JRN ran my (empty) dish out. I said, “Huh. People really will eat anything.” Houston liked my brownies, said he ate two of them.

I finally departed to go shopping. It wasn’t a totally miserable experience, surprisingly. Even more surprising was the fact I didn’t find a single thing to buy in Kohls. I tried on multiple pairs of plum pants, two dresses, a top, and nothing. I did manage to break a stopper on a decanter, but nobody came running, so I just left it. I didn’t feel bad. We never made people pay for stuff at the dish store, and if nobody even cared enough to clean up behind themselves in the dressing rooms, I wasn’t going to admit negligence by breaking this thing. Maybe that makes me a terrible person. Maybe I’m worse than the ladies who couldn’t be bothered to even take the clothes to the rack provided for culls, let alone back to the rack they plucked them from. It’s a sad state of affairs that people don’t have more respect than that. Shopkeepers aren’t slaves. You know what you did, and what you’re responsible for. Put your discards back!!! Or at least put them back on a hanger and on the return pole.
I went over to Marshalls and found several somethings, and even a couple of things in Five Below. Bath and Body works wasn’t running much of a sale, so I left there empty handed, too. I went in Ross, which is a HOLE, but I did buy some reindeer hand towels and met a cute little girl named Madeline while she and her mother stood in line behind me. The mom was coaching her about counting change when they went to pay for a shower curtain with trees on it for Madeline’s grandmother. I told her that reminded me of being a little girl in charge of the change. My great grandmother had a small leather mustard-colored change purse that had a blue and white goose stitched on it in other pieces of leather. I remember vividly being in Revco and picking out the correct coins.
I debated on running in Target but my feet were hurting because, as usual, I’d worn inappropriate shoes. I think really it’s they’re about worn out (those high heeled Uggs I’ve had forever and a day). I had wanted to get to JA’s office before they closed for the day so I could play a little trick on him. I was gonna have his girls tell him Judy was in the lobby 🤣🤣 but I had already missed the window of opportunity by the time I drove over there. Plus I still needed to stop for gas and also by a Walgreens on my way.

I get there and he’s vacuuming and isn’t wearing a hat.
I walked in, stopped, and backed up and looked out into the barn.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, leaning over and switching the vacuum off.
“I’m sorry, I thought I was at John Alan’s, but his hair is never that long and disheveled, and I’ve never seen him running a vacuum.”
I think he told me to shut up and called me a name, but I was too shocked by the box of fruit on his table. “And what is this? Health food?….Oh, FFA fundraiser.” That made sense.

We took a selfie to send to Emily. Of COURSE the one picture I have where he’s smiling on purpose I look like a mule eating sawbriars. “I’m all teeth and you’re all mustache!” I crowed once I quit laughing. “Oh well, I’m sending it anyway.” I told Emily it was a good thing he put his hat on, she wouldn’t have recognized him with #allthathair, and of course she defended him. “The poor man has been on deaths door and couldn’t even feed his horse, and you’re worried about his hair?”
Which is obviously pushing it saying he couldn’t feed his horse. He totally COULD have. But he hadn’t had much of an opportunity to get to the barbershop since he wasn’t supposed to be driving. It’s just unusual to see him so unkept.
We Facetimed Jodi, which, after all these years, you’d think wouldn’t amaze me (and also they would have made up for the delay by now) but it’s still thrilling. Her dog, an English Shepherd (like Petey, but a cardigan color instead of the standard black and white), is a real cutie. Her name is Olive.
I have diagnosed JA with gas instead of some rare heart condition or whatever it is they’re gonna come up with. At least all his bloodwork came back good. I think he’s been in his head too much and if he’d get up and move around and do something, he wouldn’t have time to dwell on how bad or off he feels. And if he’d lay off the alcohol, like she requested!! It has only been a week and he was pouring whiskeys last night. Even though he did water them down, I wasn’t happy with him.
But I was just glad to get through the day, after all. And by the time I ate one full container of Asian House and drove across Franklin Mountain in some pretty heavy fog, I was doubly glad to see home. I didn’t even go shopping in Buc-cee’s I was in such a state.

Here’s to the holidays!
Love from Appalachia,
~Amy