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Amy
I have a friend who has been unable to flush a toilet or take a shower since January 2nd. Why not call a plumber, you ask? Well, she did. Six of them. Two eventually called back. One was just calling to let her know he got her message and couldn’t come (appreciate the honesty), the other could come from Sweetwater. And he did, on Tuesday the 6th. He was there less than ten minutes. He poked around in the vicinity of the septic tank, declared it and the field line full of roots, told her it’d be $13,000 to fix, and left. That’s terrible news for anybody, right? Now let me tell you my friend is disabled. I don’t mean that she simply draws disability (which she does, a pittance). I mean she is completely blind in one eye and only has 5% vision in the other. She has a disorder called myasthenia gravis, MG for short, which causes muscles to involuntarily quit. This includes muscles in the throat that make you swallow. You don’t think about that, right? Your neck supports itself and you just swallow spit all day as needed. She doesn’t always have that luxury. On flare up days (sometimes lasting a week and often as once a month) she has to sit up and let saliva come out her mouth or else she can choke. Her diaphragm muscles will sometimes get lazy and…
Ask ten people what a library is. Nine will likely say, “a place to get books and read.” While this isn’t incorrect, ask a librarian and you’ll get a much different answer. Ask this board member and this is what she’ll say:A library is a haven, a refuge, a rescue, an escape. Sometimes I think lastly it is an education…that comes after, for many patrons.I attended the grand opening of the Kodak branch library yesterday, a library I never believed would get off the ground. I have served on the board for eleven years and the need for a bigger library has been a topic at almost every single meeting for the entirety of that time, and for years before. There were problems concerning location that held the building up for over a decade. Of course there were funding concerns. There was the push of, “but is it REALLY needed? Don’t people just buy books at Books a Million?”But here’s what I’ve seen with my own eyes.I saw a single dad fighting for custody. He was granted supervised visitation in a neutral space a few hours a week. He could have taken his baby (then toddler, as the months stretched on), to McDonalds. But he chose to take him to the library: a safe place, a welcoming spot. Somewhere to interact and play and learn.I saw groups getting…
What’s your go-to comfort food? I guess meatloaf and mashed potatoes and peas. And a roll. But I don’t make a very good meatloaf, so it’s not very comforting if I need to be the one cooking it. Mine never sets up, no matter how many breadcrumbs I use. It’s never enough. Another comfort food would be taco soup. I can generally eat it anytime. I don’t get warm and fuzzy feelings over any specific food, like a lot of people would with banana pudding or apple pie. I don’t have many recurring good memories with a particular food. What do you listen to while you work? I can’t read and concentrate if there’s much noise, so I don’t listen to anything. If I’m cooking, I’ll have a Spotify playlist going, but the genre varies. Even within my playlists. People are amazed that I go from Conway Twitty to Snoop to Guns ‘n Roses. I guess it’s the sign of a restless mind. I get bored easily. What strategies do you use to maintain your health and well being? Oh, all kinds of things! If I want to take a nap, I take a nap. If I want to eat ice cream at nine o’clock, I eat ice cream at nine o’clock. If I don’t want to leave…
It was the only job you ever had. You came on as temporary, filling in for a woman on maternity leave. She never came back and you never left. You raised so many of us with your kind heart and open arms. We cried together in every bathroom here. You simply understood and were always gracious enough to listen. If there was a party to be planned, you were the one getting the supplies, making the guest list, and ensuring the ice cream was cranking along. You always visited every table at the Christmas party, seeing to it that every baby got held and everyone got spoken to. You never missed an Open House, and I think in 46 years your hair was never the same style twice. I seriously doubt you ever repeated an outfit at the Annual Meeting, either. And speaking of meetings, how many desserts did you make over the years for the board meetings? You can make your chocolate chip cookies by muscle memory- how many dozens have you baked for all of us over the years? Your name is written in black Sharpie on the cupola of this building, where you started in heels and a skirt, armed with an adding machine that you can still operate blindfolded and a little burnt orange Swingline stapler. You have forever been known for fixing the neatest, clearest, error-free deposit for the bank. You babysat everybody’s kids at one time or another. The Co-op handbook…
Today’s writing prompt is: “what are five everyday things that bring you happiness?” Well, my everyday may look a lot different to someone else’s everyday, but here are mine. I think a lot of people will agree with this: coffee. It’s a bit of a ritual: selecting a mug, smelling the aroma throughout the house as it brews, deciding if I want sugar and creamer, or sugar and whipped cream, or sugar and caramel….then just sitting, maybe on the porch if the weather is favorable, or tucked into a corner of the couch or maybe my library chair, huddled under a quilt and working the day’s Wordle and Connection puzzles. All makings for a pleasurable morning, thus, bringing me happiness. Before the rest of the world intrudes. And you know I’m gonna say my dog. I’ve always loved dogs, always had a dog. But I never had my own dog inside until a few years ago. And Chester even slept in my bed for awhile! A body needs a dog. He’s such a delight. He’s entertaining and a lot of company. As my aunt told me: “you needed something to take care of. You needed somewhere for your love to go.” She is right. Dogs are happiness, and it’s contagious. Reading by candlelight. I guess this is a two-fer. I love my books, even though I generally read on my iPad exclusively anymore. My eyes aren’t as good…
The WordPress prompt the other day was “What would you ask your pet if they could talk?” And my initial thought was, “Are you happy here?” but then I decided that was a waste, because any idiot can see that my dog is exuberant and ecstatic. He’s completely boundless, is what he is. So that would be a waste. Then I thought I’d ask him if he was hot, but that would be foolish, too, because what was I gonna do? Shave him like a llama? No. I was still thinking about it the following morning because I’m neurotic and thought I might perhaps ask him if he remembered his time before here, at the shelter or on the streets. But I didn’t want to bring up bad memories for him, or encourage a lot of questions that I don’t have the answer to. Then there was the possibility of what Chester would ask me. What if he desires a better standard of living? More trips to the Chickalay, more people visiting, more bacon and cheese? This wouldn’t do at all. So I decided that it was probably best we can’t talk to each other. However, if he was feeling poorly this would certainly have its merits. When he’s limping, I could ask if he fell off the couch or porch when I wasn’t home. If he was…
She’d be texting me to see if I had any storm damage. She’d tell me I could stand with her at the service today. She’d ask if I had lunch plans for afterwards. If I was going to be late for work or take the day off for sickness or errands, it was imperative I inform my chairman, my secretary, my DC, my Cynthia, and my Susan. Because if I didn’t, I’d have a text at 8:15 asking if I was okay. This is why we called her Momma Hen. When I went on vacation, I texted her to let her know I’d arrived in one piece. Do you know how many times in the past week I’ve caught myself about to text her? There is great comfort in knowing the people you love are safe and their whereabouts, knowing precisely where they are. I know with absolute certainty where Susan is. I don’t know why she loved me and took care of me, other than she’s a good Christian woman. We had next to nothing in common– I don’t know nothin’ ’bout birthin’ no babies or raisin’ ’em. I don’t can my own vegetables or show cows and I can’t sew a button on a shirt, let alone crochet an entire blanket. Basically, I ain’t scared…
“I believe from what I have been told you will be doing in heaven what you enjoyed doing here on earth. That is why JE tells me the Lord won’t be having me working cattle because he knows I can’t…lol I will be cooking or rocking babies…” November 19th 2021 10:58 am I know who’s rocking babies this morning, right after she got the hug of all hugs from her savior, Jesus Christ, as He welcomed and ushered her through the gates of Heaven. I am mourning one of my dearest friends this morning. I called her Momma Hen but two people just called her momma, and eight more called her Mamaw. She celebrated 39 years of marriage on Monday to a man she knew was hers from the time she was nine years old. I’ve only known her since I started Co-op, in 2001. Susan has been the secretary for Jefferson Co SWCD since December 1st, 2015. She comes from a farming family, and canned dozens of quarts of vegetables and jams every year from their huge garden. At one time they had broiler houses in Sevier County but had moved to Jefferson and concentrated on raising polled Hereford cattle, corn, and putting up hay and silage. It was easy to talk about God and faith with her, as she was such a strong believer. To know her was to know the Lord and…
At a quarter after five, I am awoken.Again.A little after one this morning, Chester was howling in his sleep. Sometimes he does that. Another time, I had to teetee. Another time, I was hot. Plus it had taken me forever to get to sleep, because some redneck down the road was shooting joyfully till past ten last night.I laid there, wondering what it was that had disrupted my slumber this time.After a few moments, I heard a short, faint beep. That’s weird. I have very few things in this house that beep. It had to be a smoke detector. But no, that’s not right, either. My smoke detectors have a built in battery that are supposed to last ten years. And they’re not even two yet.But still. Definitely a beep.Nothing to do but get up, which overjoys my roommate (the one with a tail, y’all, calm down). I come to the other end of the house and it’s slightly louder, but the source doesn’t seem to be upstairs at all. There is another 10 year detector downstairs. And what’s that voice? Or was that my stomach? Another minute or two and I heard it again. I don’t know of ANYTHING in this house that talks to me. I’m limited on technology over here. I checked my Amazon purchases to be extra sure I wasn’t…
Sometimes I believe I was placed here to make others feel better about their own lives.For instance, today.Well, it started early this week when I was thinking, “Amy, if you’re gonna make cookies, you need to get on it.” And I answered, “ehhh, I’ll do it Thursday night and that way I can deliver Friday.”So last night I broke out my recipe book and flipped to the back to my beloved peanut butter cookies. I don’t eat them, so they’re about the only truly selfless thing I do for others.I’m gathering ingredients. I had conveniently forgotten you have to bring the eggs and butter to room temperature. Dang it. No way to hasten that without breeding bacteria.I read on.Chill a minimum of three hours.Crap. Crap crap crap crap crap.By the time I got ingredients to room temp and everything mixed, it would be 7:00. Three hours puts me at 10:00, also known as Amy’s bedtime. But in a stroke of brilliance, I figure I can just take the batter to work and bake them there. No fuss, no muss.Well, I woke up at 5:11. Not on purpose. I just did. So I went ahead and got up and decided to bake the cookies.Hmm. That’s odd. Dough was still sticky and very pliable. I vividly remember in years past wishing…
