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Amy
Growing up in the South, you will frequently hear the phrase: “Shit hit the fan.” I don’t think I ever truly understood the meaning until I went to work for Sevier County 911 dispatch. And yesterday, shit definitely hit the fan in Sevier County. Y’all all know Ruby’s burned to a crisp in Pigeon Forge on Sunday, which is hard enough to deal with. It’s terrible when it’s a home out in the county, but when it’s high profile business in the middle of town, you have to deal with all the media, too. And then the helicopter crash yesterday afternoon. You think about that. Phone rings, more than likely it’s someone ABSOLUTELY HYSTERICAL because they’ve watched a helicopter fall from the sky & burst into flames. You can’t believe your ears, you hope it’s someone off their meds but then all the phone lines light up at once as the calls pour in from hundreds of eyewitnesses. You might hear screaming from the victims. The trunk lines fill (that’s 7 phone lines with twelve calls apiece for six dispatchers to answer, if I remember correctly) & roll to the Sherriff’s department. Your first dispatcher starts doing what they do- methodically mashing buttons & maintaining a calm demeanor while in a monotone voice delivers the worst news the EMS world will probably hear all day. And from there, it all goes downhill. And by downhill, I actually mean…
It’s the last day of Carnival season. One million people are celebrating, eating beignets & king cake & dancing in the street to the music that fills the air from every corner. There’s an ache in my soul because my heart is in New Orleans but my body is at the Co-op. New Orleans (pronounced Nu Orluhns, by the way, NOT New Or-leens or Nawlins, heaven forbid) has no rivals; there are no substitutes. There’s no such thing as “too much” on Fat Tuesday. I’m not sure New Orleans even knows the meaning of excess. It makes no apologies. Anything goes. New Orleans is far too busy living life & having fun to worry about what everybody else thinks. Be like New Orleans. Happy Mardi Gras, y’all…
IThe Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins Book #4: A Young Adult Bestseller I’m not above reading YA. I believe that sometimes people disregard YA novels because they are too juvenile. You could not make a bigger mistake. Generally speaking, YA isn’t full of fancy language. It’s just easy reading & generally captivating. Since I had bought Hunger Games sometime back on the recommendation of pretty much everyone in the world, and I feel like I’m the last person left in the universe to read it, I figured I’d better hop to it. That, and because I’d broken the cardinal rule of all readers everywhere, & watched the movie a couple of years ago. That’s right, before I ever cracked the spine on the book. One of the guys at work, who never reads anything at all, even commented that it was the only book he’d ever read cover to cover for pleasure (not assigned school reading). So it HAD to be good. I found it spellbinding from the get go. I was thankful for the explanation early in the novel of how Panem, their country, came to be because I never understood that from the movie. Furthermore, Katniss’s homeland, District 12, is the Appalachians. So she’s even more near & dear to my heart. “To the everlasting credit of the people of District 12…they take part in the boldest form of dissent they can manage. Silence. Which says we…
Like most people (maybe I’m presuming a bit here), my Facebook feed is filled with memes & links & billboards. Lots of bad news, politics, & sometimes a history lesson. Occasionally it’s interspersed with an antidote or joke. I scroll through lots of hysterical cat videos. There are recipes & makeup reviews. Here & there people check in at restaurants or cool places. Families smiling & laughing & barbecuing. There are plenty of prayer requests & praise reports & pictures of babies. I see tributes to our armed forces. Shared pictures of beautiful landscapes. I read about Vols statistics & what Peyton’s up to. Not just in the fall, but year round.But here my news feed may begin to differ. Mine also consists of eggs for sale by young 4-H’ers. Trophy bucks & ducks. Sausage, freshly ground & ready for your freezer, from hogs I just saw on the hoof a mere week or two ago. I see cows & four-wheel drives & tractors. It’s also sprinkled with book recommendations.I see children & crops grow.And Lord at the horses. Thousands of horses.And Sunday night, I saw my good friend TammyLynn holding a great big crappie.TammyLynn is my newest good friend. Like all the best people, she has two first names. I met her, like I have the majority of y’all, at the Co-op. She bought bookoos of birdseed twice a…
Thoughts I have while walking on treadmill: I should have four miles in about an hour. I can do this. Lalalalala… Should have brought my radio. This would be a perfect opportunity for listening to an audio book. Wonder if I could read a REAL book without falling off? Nah. *Close my eyes & try to envision how it would go* Immediately trip. Regain balance. Wow, the ceiling is really low down here. Wonder what those nails are from? Good thing I’m not tall, I’d be claustrophobic. Guess God knows what he’s doing. These dogs stink. I can’t believe Johnny used to let dogs live in his house. Look at all the dust they generate! Why does he like it down here so much? It’s so drab. Probably because I talk so much. And he can watch what he wants to on TV. (Platoon infinity) How do I turn that TV on, anyway? {It’s a big screen that’s probably as old as I am} Can I Facebook while walking? *Try it* *Become slightly nauseated* Nope. Sigh. How far have I walked? Not even a thousand steps?!? Bull crap! Maybe I could do Instagram. Less reading. Okay. Okay. Okay. Hmm. I’m getting kinda hungry. All I’ve had is coffee…
You ever been driving along, into the sunset perhaps, & thinking how glorious it is? And you wonder if other drivers around you have even noticed the gorgeousness? Or when the sun has those slanting rays through the clouds & it’s like a spotlight to a distant point ahead? Or when the air is so clear you can see the frost on the mountain, & the mountains behind it are a crisp, visible line & you’re sure, just positive, if you had binoculars you could find a deer picking its way along a ridge? Today this hawk flew up out of a holler & right across the highway in front of me & a couple of other vehicles. And I wondered if I was the only one who noticed. Or if they just saw a bird, with no idea it was a hawk. I don’t know, I see deer & turkeys all the time on my commute, I would call it commonplace, but no one else seems to pay any attention. I don’t know what I expect them to do, though. Wave their arm out the window & point…
This was the beginning of my adventure with the Reader’s Advisory for The Sevier County Pulic Library System. I was beside myself with happiness. I don’t know how me and my ego fit through most doors. https://sevierlibrary.wordpress.com/2016/01/13/guest-resident-bloggers-1st-book-of-2016…
I’m told the Powerball is 800 million. Johnny asked if I picked up some tickets. I gave him one of my blank stares. “Let me tell you how that would go: ‘I need to play the lottery, please,” I would inform the Pakistani gas station clerk. And he would ask me something that I don’t understand, so I would point to those scratch offs in desperation & he would rip off some & I would have to buy those too.” “They’re five dollars a line.” “And I don’t know what that means, either.” “You can pick your own numbers or the machine can pick them.” “Pretty sure I don’t trust computers. So then I’d be having to come up with numbers other than seven, & that could be problematic.” “Don’t worry babe, me & the guys from work went in on some. We’ve got 15 plays.” “But then we’ll have to split it with all theeeeemmm….” I whined. “You might as well say 500 million, split five ways, 100 million for us…you think you’d even notice?” “I’m gonna be like Monica on F.R.I.E.N.D.S. & hide some extra.” So I’ve been planning what I’…
I read an interesting post yesterday about not comparing your life to anyone else’s because Facebook is their highlight reel. I agree strongly with that statement. However, let me tell y’all somethin’. You know as well as I do that I’ll tell just about anything. That’s how it is when you’re an aspiring writer. Not much is off limits. So here’s how today went: Slept way too late for my own good. Still up because of it. Also because I chopped a red onion about an hour ago & my nose hasn’t stopped running & my eyes are still watering & no way can I go to sleep with all that goin’ on. Started laundry. Ended up making three trips up & down stairs that my Fitbit didn’t recognize. I don’t know why it does that. To mock me? Grrrr. Ate enormous bowl of Cocoa Puffs because I was too lazy to fix actual breakfast. Watched a segment of Titanic. I started it Saturday. I’m not very far. I think the last thing I watched was where Rose is partying with the Irish down in steerage. Got my book finished so I could have it back by the due date because my friend Brenda is waiting on it so she can read it & come to book club because I’ve been hounding her about it for…
Home is a relative term. If you’re in your hometown and someone asks where you live, you will perhaps give them specific directions. Say I see you at Food City in Seymour, I would tell you I live behind the high school. If I’m in Knoxville, home is Seymour. If I’m in Atlanta, home is Knoxville. If I’m in Asheville, or Savannah, or Charleston, I might care to explain I’m from a small town near Dollywood. People from away are always fascinated that I’m from the same county as Dolly Parton. If I’m on the West Coast, home is simply “Tennessee”. If I were to travel to Ireland, “home” would be the United States. I’m arrogant, but not so much that I would expect them to point out the South on a map of the world. And if aliens abduct me, planet Earth would be close enough for me. So if you move away from where you’re born, but leave behind your family to cleave to your beloved, of perhaps to just a new life, then you hopefully have two homes. Hence the phrase, “Going home for Christmas,” the same as going home after a long day at the office. Home is where the heart is. For years, home was where my horse was, because my heart was my horse. I’ve been home…
