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Amy
To be a mountain girlYou must be cold as frost on the tin roofAnd hot as cinders from the wood stoveYou must be witty on your comebacksAnd sharp as grandpa’s yellow Case knife To be a mountain girlYou must be tough as a pine knot And delicate as a monarchs wings as they pulseYou must be soft as spring’s peach fuzzAnd hard as the fallen walnut To be a mountain girlYou must know how to sew with catgutAnd how to heal with aloe and plantainYou must be able to rise and bake biscuitsAnd rest in the heat of the day To be a mountain girlYou must know how to bait your own hookAnd keep up with who’s buried whereYou must know who married whoAnd where their children scattered to To be a mountain girlYou have to talk to crittersAnd go barefoot most of the yearYou must know how to plant by the signsAnd what made that track To be a mountain girlYou will appreciate each day as it comesAnd be grateful to the one who made itYou will prepare as much as you canAnd give grace at every turn To be a mountain girlYou should be capable of shooting straightBoth with a gun and your mouthAnd you should have casseroles in the deep freezeAnd a stack of cards to send in sympathy or thanks To be a mountain girlIs to know which way to the riverAnd where to dig sangAnd hold the note on…
My grandmother built this house round about 1960. She had beautiful #1 hardwood floors put in. After a time, she decided they weren’t worth the effort to maintain (she was under the illusion you had to buff and wax them on the weekly) and had them covered up with some truly horrendous mustard colored carpeting. When she died in 2008, my first priority was getting that God awful carpet ripped up. A friend helped me with the biggest part, and I was tasked with pulling up all the staples and nails and cleaning the wood from all the bits of carpet cushioning before putting down some nice area rugs. This was a JOB. I did it all with a claw hammer and my trusty needle nose pliers. I love needle nose pliers. Some staples came up easily, some I had to really fight with. And a very small number got left forever because they weren’t coming out, no way, no how. And once that was completed I went over it with a paint scraper, then some sort of cleaning agent, THEN the floor polish. Three bedrooms and the hallway is what I slaved over. I had to get done before my furniture was delivered so I worked way into the night through the week and every moment those two weekends to get finished in time. And it seems like I had to get my library painted too. And the walls had to dry. I had fans…
That title just looks weird. But it’s kinda like what I said about the fires here, you can find blessings wherever you look. That year I saw generosity and a community with a big heart and open doors. Through my divorce, I found friends that pull you close and guard your heart and will pray for you when you’re unable to pray for yourself. So I’m sure I won’t have any trouble coming up with a list of things for this year. I had to do some shopping today during my lunch break and unfortunately, it was raining. Rain is just an inconvenience, but you can’t help but dread going out in it. I don’t like my feet wet (even though I was wearing boots), and I had straightened my hair. And it got me to thinking. Four years ago we were all praying VERY FERVENTLY for rain. It couldn’t get here quick enough, and it couldn’t rain hard enough. This was during the Gatlinburg Fires, the very thing that kick started me into opening this blog. Rain would have helped immensely back then, and it did come, but it was just about too little, too late. Shame on me for seeing it as an aggravation today. Think of all the states and countries in perpetual drought. And here I was complaining. Rain is a good thing! Yes, I had straightened my hair. Well…
It is human nature to complain. I know this. But I have never seen the like of gripe-filled posts about this snow. And the majority are horse owners. I’m not sure if I see more from them because I’m friends with more horse owners than cattle owners (I think it’s a pretty even split), or if it’s because horse people are more vocal about things. But it confuses me. We live in the hills of Tennessee. Snow is a given. We never know how much, or how long it will last, but we know cold weather is coming for a good three months of the year. If you don’t like it, or are ill-prepared to deal with it, may I suggest moving to town? Or moving further south? Or simply just not having horses? Horses are a luxury afforded to few. They serve no purpose beyond making you happy. And if you’re this miserable taking care of them in the short winter we have, maybe you shouldn’t have them. I don’t have horses anymore and that’s about 50% of the reason. The other half is cost. Horses are outrageously expensive if you keep them in the manner in which you should. I liked the snow just fine. Thankfully, my heat stayed on or I would have been in a bit of a pickle, as all my firewood is wet and…
Once upon a time, in a land not so far away at all, lived a little tank of a blue brindle bulldog, who was very, very loved. In a land pretty far away, as far as dog travel is concerned anyway, roamed another dog, who was not loved at all, by anyone. Now this story has equally sad and delightful parts, so consider yourself warned if you read on. But, I will tell you: like all fairy tales, you get a happy ending. And so the summer went by, hot and sticky. The brindle bulldog was very, very sick but the Princess was taking very good care of him during this time. She would feed him half her meals and they would go through drive thrus and get him his very own roast beef sandwich and cups full of ice cream or whipped cream, depending on where they were. The brindle bulldog was very happy, but getting weaker day by day. He loved to go on trips and would lay peacefully in the backseat until they got to their destination. One time they were in the car for a very long time and every time they stopped and got out it was further from home and there were all new smells and sights. Even the trees looked different. And then…after traveling all day, they reached the ocean. And it was the best thing the little tank of a blue brindle bulldog had ever seen. He was beside himself…
There is so much I don’t know. And there is so much to be thankful for that doesn’t even enter my mind. I haven’t done the 30 days of thankfulness in several years but I think I’ll do one giant blog post soon to catch up.Once upon a time, I was scrolling Pinterest and saw these adorable curtains made from antique handkerchiefs. I have a friend that makes them from bandanas, but I don’t really have a Western theme at my house. I don’t think I have a theme at all, come to think of it. It’s just uniquely Amy.Which translates to haphazard pieces I find and buy.Anyway, I had a few hankies I’ve collected over the years and I thought, “hmm…I could do that, easy peasy!”Pffffft.First of all, I didn’t have nearly enough. Ebay to the rescue! And I even found some ready to be hung. “A simple whip stitch runs through the corner” the description said. I liked the simple bit, and I figured I could do it to my already acquired ones.Well.The lot I bought came with ten, and for it to look like anything I needed about three dozen to create my vision.So that’s how the hankie curtain made its way to my office. And I never got around to “running a…
Day 8: I fell off the couch this morning. It was an embarrassment and a surprise. But no matter what happens, it won’t be as bad as The Soaking yesterday. Princess Sparkleshoes says life is full of ups and downs and I’ll do good to remember that. She’s just mad because hairs keep mysteriously showing up in the tub and she’s cleaned it twice already. I told her if she hadn’t stressed me out I wouldn’t have shed so much. She said I should have cooperated better. I started to tell her something else but then I heard a little bee tell me to never argue with a redhead, especially the one who feeds you and allows you to ride in the rocket. So I yawned and licked her hand. Chester’s Diary, Day 8 and a half Popcorn is an acquired taste. I haven’t acquired that taste. It’s not natural. I would rather just play with them but Princess Glitter Pants gags when she has to pick the slimy bits up off the carpet. I do think the chickens next door would fit my discriminating palate. And I promise not to leave any slimy bits anywhere. #scoutshonor Chester’s Diary, Day 9Whoever this Lightning Bug character is, he must have really been something special. Princess Glitterpants still cries over him sometimes.She also says I could have learned a lot from…
I guess if I’m gonna tell this, I need to pick up with where I left off. So I got all Chester’s (at that time still Andre the Giant’s) paperwork signed and paid his bail, and we busted out of that joint, everybody all smiles but none bigger than Chester’s. I decided to take the interstate home because those curvy roads might make him sick. He was pretty excited and paced some, looking at all the things that he’d never seen before. He acted like it was the most natural thing in the world to be riding 75 mph with someone he’d never before laid eyes on. I guess that’s a good thing. Ever so often he’d stick his head through the gap between my headrest and window and lay his muzzle on my shoulder. It was the sweetest thing. And if he could catch my elbow far enough back on the armrest, he’d put his head on top of it. He eventually circled and curled up to sleep. Bless his little bones. If I had been him, I wouldn’t have been nearly so accepting of this fate. I guess he knew my intentions and that everything was going to be okay. I kept thinking about what the director told me: picked up as a stray in June, and had been at the shelter ever since.Once he settled down…
I can’t tell you about LB dying, not yet. Let’s just say it effectively broke my heart. I didn’t realize how much I depended on him for companionship and entertainment. And pure, uncomplicated love. Ok, that little bit already has me crying so let’s move on. After a few weeks of people gently (and not so gently) pushing me to get another dog, I started half-heartedly searching. Because the fact of the matter was, I was miserable. And I hate to throw away leftovers. It was either going to be a dog or a pig. And places aren’t as friendly about letting a pig in as they are a dog. I looked on Young Williams page. They’re not far, and they’re well-known for having dogs that are staring hard at the end of the line. I wanted a male pit bull, anywhere from 2-5. He had to be house trained. I didn’t care if he got along with kids or other pets, because I don’t share my space with anybody. He could be an unlucky dog, fixing to change his luck. I really wanted to just walk up to the counter of a shelter and say, “Hi. I’m the answer to your prayers.” But that would be arrogant, so I tried to be cool when I messaged about one of their dogs, a pit mix…
Today was the Waynesville Apple Festival. I have attended this particular event before and found it wonderful. My good friend Tammy Lynn Huffstutler introduced me a couple of years ago. We made the trek again today. In preparation for the festival, I stayed the night at their very homey hilltop home in Greene County. Tammy Lynn so graciously offered to fix us breakfast, but remembering festivals from days of yore, there were lots of decadent food truck options offering many savory, dripping in fat, smoked and fried delicacies. This is in addition to the many restaurants and cafes lining the Main Street of downtown Waynesville. So upon the offer of breakfast, I politely declined, gently reminding my dear friend of all the gastric options that would be available to us in short order. But she mentioned she thought she could eat an egg, so we opted for an egg apiece on tiny toast. And off we went.We got pretty excited to find parking at the bottom of the hill for $5. Until we walked to the TOP of the hill and found parking for $5. #windedSo we figured out the “system” and joined the masked masses clumped up and traveling down Main Street. We were among the minority of unmasked, and dogless. Or catless. We saw a tabby cat on a leash wearing a Halloween tutu-type collar, being carried around the neck, much as one would wear a fur stole. I did try to get a…
