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 for a hammer and chisel to pry enough loose to form a ball.
🤷‍♀️ I pressed on, making sixteen little cookies and mashed a fork on each one. They immediately squished, another unfavorable characteristic. But in for a penny, in for a pound. I popped them in the oven and set the timer for ten minutes.
The flat mess that looks like a pizza crust was the result.

I moved the remaining dough to the freezer, thinking my fridge must be going out, and I’d think about that tomorrow. Cookies are a today problem, and I can only marginally cope with one issue at a time.
Chester paced at my feet, offering encouragement and silently offering to be quality control.
I got ready for work and brought the dough with me. Stuck it in the freezer here. Completed secretarial tasks.
Pulled back my hair and put my apron on. Retrieved dough from freezer. Pleased that it was now a consistency I was familiar with. Rolled into balls. Mashed with fork.
About the time I got to cookie #12, I noted the dough was already becoming less firm.
This might be an Amy issue, not a fridge failure. Imagine that.
So sure enough, pulled them out, and a similar mess to the one I was confronted with at 5:30.

I wondered if maybe it was due to the brief intermission I took when David Newman happened by with a warm Chickalay biscuit and his sweet heeler. (I love Christmas, biscuits from friends for no reason). But no. Couldn’t be.
And then I had my epiphany.
I had used self rising flour in place of all purpose flour. This can usually be done without adverse effects, you just have to omit the other powder ingredients (baking soda, baking powder, and salt).
Well, two outta three ain’t bad.
So this is what it looks like when you make peanut butter cookies with self rising flour PLUS salt.
0/5, do not recommend.
If this is the worst that happens to me this week, Wyatt, I am ROLLING.

I made it through Walmart Market without my blood pressure becoming elevated, everybody was at their jolliest. Maybe it was due to the enormous Christmas ball necklace strung around my neck; perhaps I looked too crazy to cross 🤣🤣🤣🤣 {they ain’t wrong 😏} oh!! And I ran into Kathy, Chester’s Number One Fan, that I worked with at Food City that hot summer. It was so great. Surprisingly, she was the only one I knew in the place, so I managed to get out in nearly record time.

Ahhhh, Christmas. The chaos continues and the countdown is truly on.

Jingling all the way,

~Amy

Postscript: this reminded me of another year when there was a mishap involving peanut butter cookies. My Uncle Dale’s best friend, Kent, had a weakness for them. So I promised I’d make him his very own batch and deliver. I’d never been to their house, but I knew where it was. I texted his wife on my way, but she didn’t answer. I get there and the gate at the bottom of their driveway was closed, indicating they were out. No problem, I just nestled the container under the latch post where they couldn’t miss it, and sent them another text that they had been delivered.

A short time later Cheryl texts back that they were home and their gate was open. I describe the flag on their gate. Turns out I delivered to their neighbors, whom they didn’t know. Since not much time had passed, I instructed to hustle over there and retrieve them. They could show my texts as proof the cookies had not been delivered to the correct recipient.

Well, lo and behold the container of cookie s had already disappeared! I really hope they enjoyed them and didn’t think they were poisoned. 🤣🤣🤣🤣 It is also my sincere wish that they needed the pick me up Christmas magic, because Kent was sorely disappointed and he passed suddenly before the following Christmas, so he never did get his own batch. But we had a good time laughing about it for awhile, anyway.

It has been a very long day.

I tried to pace myself, and start strong with coffee and breakfast. I usually treat myself to Bojangles after the doctor, but I’d be treating myself to some dirty martinis later, so I figured I could make my breakfast.

I get to the dermatologist and the waiting room was PACKED. It was only nine in the morning, I think they start seeing patients at 7:30, so this was surprising. The guy sitting next to me was reading a Bible. He was about my age. I hope he was ok. Or maybe he was the driver of someone and he was in the word for them. I commented on it to my doctor and she speculated maybe he just liked reading the Bible. “As we all should,” I acceded.

Surprisingly, I like my new doctor better than my old one. This one may not look as carefully, but she still found plenty to freeze and cut on. “Plenty” being three spots total, but that’s enough. And what I really liked about her was her easygoing demeanor and ability to smile. Amy was very serious. When this one said, “your chest looks good,” I replied, “that’s what all the boys tell me.”
I thought her and the nurse both were gonna fall out.
I have to wait two weeks to know the results of what my previous doctor called “a bug bite that didn’t heal correctly”. I’m sticking with that diagnosis in the meantime. I got enough to occupy my mind without worrying I’ve got skin cancer.

It was a busy day at work. Addison came up and stayed on the phone nearly the whole entire day. If he wasn’t on the phone, he was on a Teams meeting. I’ve never had to contend with so much racket at this office. It was relentless. And above that, endless crunching and sniffing from JRN that I still haven’t become accustomed to after a year of it. It makes the day go by much faster having Addison in house but wow it’s a lot when it’s typically so quiet.

Board tonight, with Christmas Party thrown in. My friend Wayne baked us a cake (at Kent’s request) and brought it by. This is a very sweet gesture from anyone, but most especially from this gentleman who is tighter than bark on a tree and also a bit of a curmudgeon. “Bit” being a sorely understated term.
Since the meeting didn’t start till six, there was no place to go but the bar and sling back a few martinis in the meantime. I met a very nice gentleman who originally hailed from Indiana that is rooting for Tennessee and also Indiana, because he said he wasn’t smart enough or wealthy enough to attend Notre Dame, and they needed beat for a change.
I agreed wholeheartedly.
He was very curious about who my crowd was, and I told him, in a nutshell, about how we help farmers. He smiled and said that was wonderful. I asked him if he was a farmer and he outright laughed. “I’m no farmer,” he admitted.
I twinkled back at him. “I know you’re not. I know every farmer in this county!”
And then it was time to eat and make merry. It was a small group this year, which made me a little sad. But Addison had a sick baby, and David was with Jaimie at her party for her work (at the Sunsphere! How exciting!), we had one missing, and two wives who had other commitments. Of course JRN had hastened to bring a date, who smiled a lot but didn’t speak except when spoken to. I was okay with that, but if you’re gonna get a word in edgewise around the rest of us, you’re gonna have to fight for it 😁 Sam came, and seemed to be in a big way, and I was pleased to see Athen was getting around better than expected.
My shoes were too big, and I had put those little grippy things in the backs to help, but they didn’t help enough. I tripped my way back from the bathroom.
We got a blessing at the end of the meal, even though we forgot to bless the beginning. I’m blaming David, since he’s the one I always ask. I don’t know that any of the rest of us would have been comfortable praying out loud. I missed it, though.

I wasn’t quite home when the news came of a distant acquaintance’s passing. I’m friends with his twin brother on Facebook, and I vaguely remember waiting on them at Co-op many years ago before they moved away. This is a type of hurt I’ll never know, and can only imagine the trauma. I would say they were closer than any best friend or sibling you could ever have, just going from what I could see on Facebook with their constant ribbing. My breath caught as I imagined the days ahead for the remaining brother. I truly cannot even begin to think about how lost he must feel. Once again, we don’t have to look far to find people with bigger problems than our own.

In this book I’m working on the author writes about the differences of people who survive, which is an enormous thing, but also the people who are warriors. The ones who didn’t take cover in the ditch when the fighting was imminent. The ones who suited up and rode. The ones who fought for the ones that were cowering behind closed doors. And maybe that’s all they had; maybe that’s all they were mentally equipped for. And that’s ok. Not everybody is a warrior. I am so tired. But I tell myself, “you are not merely a survivor. You are a warrior.” And I smile. I’m out here in the world, facing whatever comes my way. I have yet to run. I don’t know how much more fight I have in me, but if I’m called to do so, know that I will until my dying breath. Survivors can trudge along behind the ones who fought. Survivors can get in line. Warriors lead. Warriors stand.
And warriors cry when nobody watches.

Love from Appalachia,
~Amy

I started a new book. I didn’t think I was gonna like it much after reading the summary, as it revolves around a lesbian. But the rest of the message was sound, and I had been in line for it for some time, so I decided to give it a whirl. If I could tell right away it wasn’t my cup of tea, I could give myself permission to quit. It’s a Reese Witherspoon pick, and she’s usually on target, so I am taking my chances. And so far, it’s really good! I know I tend to say this in the early stages of all my books, and then come back at the halfway point, whining, and then at the end, saying it pretty much redeemed itself but it was slow. I know how I am. So I’m going to withhold further comment.

Emily got me this morning, talking about finally throwing away seeds in her fridge that had been in there since before her daddy died thirteen years ago. She started to dig the Silver Queen corn out, but ultimately decided against it, saying, “I do not need emotional support corn, I’m a big girl.” We have adopted that as today’s mantra.
It started snowing here about nine. JA checked in a little after eight, quite excited about the size of the flakes. He acted like they were out to get him, specifically. Jodi wasn’t sure what was funnier, his reaction to it, or the fact that we were getting snow and she wasn’t 🤣 It didn’t ever amount to anything around town but Jake claimed the grass was covered in Blaine.

Writing prompt: Have you ever performed onstage or given a speech?
I’m wondering who, in this day and time, has avoided either one? I certainly got my share in school plays, plus all the pageants and clogging competitions throughout my childhood. I’ve given several speeches in school, and I’ve been called upon to say a word or two at Co-op meetings and what have you. Thankfully I’ve never been asked to speak at a funeral. That would be the hardest public speaking there is. Oh, and Misty used to have me come talk to her high school students about equine nutrition. I don’t understand how you make it to adulthood without doing either of these things. I guess maybe if you were homeschooled and didn’t go to college, but that would be the only way.

It’s been a quiet night at home. My supper was much delayed. I’ll let you guess why. (Hint: he weighs 80# and has a tail)

Love from Appalachia,
~Amy

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

Monday, Monday…. It’s getting to be that time of year where everything speeds up. My to-do and to-buy lists are already uncomfortably extensive. It’s not like Christmas sneaks up on me. I’m in Hobby Lobby pretty regularly and they start preparing in June. So why am I always running around in a mild state of panic this time every year? I’ve got cards bought, but not stamps. I’ve got a list of who to buy for, but not many ideas. I know what all I want to eat, but not much desire to fix it 🙃

I went by Food City on my way in and didn’t have any trouble being refunded the $6.76 where I was overcharged. She said they had experienced a few issues. I was relieved I wasn’t expected to tote the whole roast back in.

I have never in my life met anyone as outwardly disgusting as Jake, nor as lazy. I was very clear with him for days ahead of time that I would be leaving Friday at 1:30 and he seemed to be on board, even reaffirming that a field visit that morning wouldn’t adversely affect my schedule.
So imagine my surprise when I came in this morning and there were THREE missed calls, the first one coming in at 2:18. So, he clearly left right after I did. I could STRANGLE him!!

It was just a taxing day. I did go get a refill on my meds. I declared the sugar pills a loss and threw the remaining powder away, finally 😂 I probably need to check on some nerve medication, what with the holiday and all. I shouldn’t be expected to do all this pre-menopausal with no chemical help 🫠🫠

I got home and decided a glass of wine was in order. I’d drank half a bottle the other night, and stoppered it back up but I was afraid it would go bad. That’s a legitimate sounding excuse, right?
The first glass did such a thorough job of relaxing me, I had another. And next thing I knew, my world was all warm and fuzzy and sort of tilted 🤣🙃 I called Kay, who understands better than anybody.
“I didn’t mean to get drunk! I only had two glasses!” I wailed.
“Ooooh, that’s happened to me before, too.”
See? I told you she was so understanding.
It didn’t take long for me to get a grip and we had a good long chat sorting all the troubles that aren’t exclusive to the season, and a few that were. She was up and down the stepladder putting adornments on her tree. I was impressed with all the progress she’s made in preparation for her nieces to come visit over the holiday. Kay is a kindred spirit when it comes to getting your act together for the shiny holiday. But she had her wreath up, her lights in the windows (the ones she could find, anyway), the mantel bedecked, the table centerpiece created, the stair handrail draped… I’m telling you, she’s on it this year. I’m so proud! She took several pictures to commemorate the event 😂

I could use a writing prompt today, but the one from WordPress is “your favorite cartoon”. Apart from The Little Mermaid, I’m not sure what other cartoons I ever watch. I used to love Garfield…I haven’t even seen Frozen, so I don’t think I’m qualified to answer this question. Or any other one relating to TV or celebrities. I’m not sure I could pick most stars out of a lineup. Obviously, I know George Strait and Dolly (and Sturgill 😍😍😍) but I’m at a loss for anybody under 40. Anyway, I’m off topic.
I think I better just get ready for tomorrow. Christmas party #2!

Love from Appalachia,
~Amy

Writing prompt: “What could you do less of?”
Well, overthinking, for one. Reading comments on public posts, for another. Neither one do me a bit of good and I become pretty short tempered and disgusted with humankind (and myself). So maybe I’ll start this next week by limiting myself on Facebook. Although, I have had the timer set for an hour for several months now. That’s not very much. It only takes one comment section to aggravate me, though, so I don’t think a timer is the answer.

I finished The Magnificent Lives of Marjorie Post. My favorite quote that sums up the entire book was buried in the acknowledgements: “She lived through four very different and very passionate love stories, taking on four different last names, only to return finally to the very name that had been hers all along. In my opinion, this is ultimately the story of a woman finding her own indelible strength and identity, and embracing a power and a life force that set her apart. Is this a love story? Yes, it is many different love stories and I believe the most powerful one of all is the love story that Marjorie Merriweather Post ultimately found with herself.” The book irked me a little. Despite all her philanthropic work, and her travels, and the ability to sail through the Great Depression and two world wars, the book concentrated primarily on her husbands. Another book was suggested by the author at the end that I plan to look into because Miss Post seems to be someone to be admired and studied: American Empress. She really was the Cereal Queen, but so much more.

I went out to my aunt’s a little after three, as promised, to work on the closet and her tree. That closet!! Lord help me. But of course she wanted to put it off till we started to pack everything up. I’m usually not involved in that, and she knows it, so I suspect this was her way of trying to get out of it. I’ll out a call in to Kevin if she delays much longer.
Speaking of Kevin, he didn’t call or send any pictures from over the weekend, as he said he would. I didn’t really miss them, but it did wound my feelings slightly. I like seeing pictures of the food, I don’t really care about the people. I was thankful he didn’t want to Facetime. Maybe I hurt his feelings when I said so.

Anyway, I got the tree situated with Uncle Dale critiquing from the mantle. I could just hear him. “Pilgrim, that bow ain’t straight. There’s a hole as big as your head, you need to do something there. I see you eyein’ my pinecones! Don’t you be carryin’m off!”
I miss him so much.
Brenda got his shirts folded up that were in the big closet upstairs. I couldn’t imagine taking them out of the regular closet just to relocate and deal with three years later. But at least she has a plan: she’s got them promised to the church for a mission. She also pulled out empty shoe boxes to throw away. That was as far as she got on the closet clean out.
Sigh. I guess it’s a start. A very pitiful one, but a start. I can’t tolerate all that clutter.
She’d sat down to “take a break” and of course, conversation predictably led to food. She mentioned she’d like to have some hot, greasy Krystals. “Mmmm,” said I, just out of habit.
“Let’s go!” she took my mild agreement as full endorsement.
“I don’t know…” I hedged.
“It’s just six thirty!!!!”
Like that was the problem. “I’ve got that roast to eat,” I reminded her. I knew I’d get roped into an all evening affair, that’s why I didn’t come out at 1:30 as she’d initially suggested. I had already signed on for two episodes of Yellowstone. I was looking at 9:00, as it was. I was spared from making further excuses as Howdy pulled in, returning her car. He took his shoes off, sat down, and crossed his legs so I knew, despite what he said, we were in for a lengthy visit. I got to hear, for the FIRST TIME, about his ’76 Corvette. I was like, “Here all this time I thought you were smart, but now I’m finding out you had a Corvette and sold it??!?!!”
“I had to work on it all the time. I was working for Coke, and I’d drive it Monday through Friday, then spend the weekend working on it.”
I never did learn the source of the issue, something about it had ten of something. I guess most cars only have two and they last a lot longer. I don’t know, all I know is they’re beautiful and I have always loved them. “They’re not like a regular car,” Howdy told me.
“Oh, I know that!”

Brenda went and got her purse to edge him on out the door. You know how it is once you get Krystals on the mind. Plus, Donna had called and said she was ready to go eat, too, so he was fixing to be in the doghouse if we didn’t all get a move on.
We deduced that Strawberry Plains is quicker than Sevierville, so off we went. “Are we going inside or taking it back?” she asked me when we pulled in.
“Lets just eat here so they don’t stink up your car.”
I have not been inside a Krystal in years. It was very bleak. There are no extras whatsoever: no decor of any kind, no self serve drink and ketchup station. It is bare bones.
I couldn’t help but snicker. I wanted to take a picture to commemorate the occasion, but my hair was greasy and I didn’t have on a stitch of makeup. Par for the course, really. There was nobody else there, besides the workers. And the best part, I was wearing my “That’s a terrible idea. What time?” Sweatshirt. I really should have just gone ahead with the selfie.
The workers seemed to get along, which was a surprise. The girl appeared to have a very strong attitude. We claimed our booth, still crumb-and-tiny-onion strewn from previous guests, and looked at each other and laughed.
Krystals. A lasting legacy.

A younger couple came in and chose the seats at the bar area, looking out into the parking lot. A middle aged man came at a quick clip around the front. I wondered if the big windows were so that people could see if we were getting mugged or killed in there. And here I was, without my gun.
I decided he was just a hungry trucker after I heard him order. He’d be alright after he got some grub. I bet working at a Waffle House or a Krystal gives you allllll kinds of life experiences. I wouldn’t make it through the first night of waiting on a bunch of repugnant drunks. And imagine what you’d get right here at the interstate! No thanks. But I need to remember if I ever get tired of the writing prompt suggestions or I hit a wall on what I want to write about. Pull up a stool here and just watch. I guess that’s why Sean Dietrich is always expounding on the Awful Waffle.

We made it back home without gastrointestinal difficulties and got caught up on Yellowstone. That show makes my heart race. And it makes me depressed. I don’t know why I watch it. Nothing good ever happens. And now it’s clearly the end, and it’s not the end I wanted. Imagine that. Taylor Sheridan, you’re the debbil.

Love from Appalachia,
~Amy

Saturdays are for cleaning house. I decided since I cleaned my kitchen cabinets last weekend, today was the day for the bathroom ones. Thankfully there aren’t nearly as many. I really do need to paint them. My house is so dated. But I just know I’ll bite off more than I can chew and get mad at myself for undertaking such a task.

Angela sent me some spring rolls from her pedicurist (yes, I know exactly how weird that sounds) and a scarf she made for Chessie, very sweet. I hung my new wreath on the inside of my door since it was too poufy for the outside side. I’m not opposed; it will last longer this way, plus I get to admire it more.

After I got my cleaning done, my brain evidently decided to reset and I thought it was magically Sunday. 🤦‍♀️ I’m so glad it isn’t!! I called my aunt and made plans to go put up her tree tomorrow, because if I don’t do it, she won’t put it up, and then I’ll feel guilty. But I know she’ll wrap me in for the whole evening, so I have to get mentally prepared for that.

Writing prompt: what positive events have taken place in your life over the past year?
Why is it my mind said, “Well, not as many as there were negative ones”?
It started off decent enough; I was in Bowling Green for the ringing in of the new year, so that was fun. I’m scrolling through my pictures to see what all bright spots there were. I know how it shook out, which is less than ideal, but there have been some good memories. Like when I went to Loco Burro for their glorious buffet one Sunday morning with the Finchums and then we drove around West Knoxville looking at all the snow. Or Valentine’s Day, when Blackhorse was running a special of rainbow trout, creme brulee, and French martinis. It was quite the night, sitting there at my little table, looking out at all the couples who were made very uncomfortable just by my solo presence.
I only went on local trips this year, the only time I was out of state was the two times to see Kevin. Oh, and to run to Georgia with JA to pick up that horse trailer. I guess the furthest away from home I got was Columbia.
I drank a lot and spent a lot of time with my dog and John Alan.
I killed one snake, but I tried to kill two.
I read good books and I read awful ones.
I experienced love, and I experienced heartache, and I brought it all on myself. I have yet to decide if I’d do it differently, looking back. Things happen for a reason. I knew how it was going to go before I ever started. People always get hurt. But people are also overly confident. And that is where catastrophe breeds. At least I’ve been honest with myself. I can still look myself in the eye and I’m not ashamed. I can admit to myself when I’ve been happy, and when I’ve not. And I know when to change things, so I can develop into the person I want to be. I know not to put my key to happiness in anybody else’s pocket. This is why I have not been heartbroken. And I will try my best never to be, again. Heartbreak is when you love fully, and you give your heart completely away, and that person doesn’t appreciate the gift it is and they take it, and over time -or maybe in one fell swoop- they destroy it. And no matter how much tape and glue you use, it’ll never be the same again.
This is why I cannot be broken. I’ve already shattered once.
Heartbreak is when you cannot sleep, you cannot eat, you cannot see a way through. You need someone there holding your hand and helping you, telling you what the world requires of you next. You take showers sitting down because it’s too much effort to stand. Heartbreak is when you cannot read, you cannot watch TV, you cannot listen to music, because you are so raw and emotional and it all leads to the one thing you don’t want to think about. You honestly cannot see a way through, and even if you could, you don’t want to.
THAT is heartbreak. So, no, I was spared heartbreak this year. But only because I knew it was coming.
I spread my Uncle’s ashes, finally, alone at the Clinch, as it should have been.
I sweated my way through summer: on my porch, at the lake, at the fair. I nursed a severely hurt leg and depended on Angela more than I should.
I finally threw out a bunch of memorabilia and got rid of my wedding dresses. I purged an entire closet full of clothes. I let go of so much.
I reconnected with an old college friend.
I cooked, I cried, I laughed, I loved, I worked, I helped, I prayed.
I prayed some more.
And I’m still here, praying. Hoping for a better year. But I know that it will be what I make of it. And I have to keep searching myself for the truth. You can’t let things just happen to you and be satisfied with the outcome. You have to make things happen so you choose your destiny. I’m not going to sit around wishing someone would bring me cookies. No, I have to buy the ingredients and bake them myself. Someone may eventually bring me cookies, but I’m not willing to wait for that happiness when I can create my own joy.
I hope that you already knew this, and I’m the one who was late to the party. I hope hopeless romantics are given some hope in the next year. But as a hopeless romantic such as myself knows, true love doesn’t come around very often. I guess I’m on schedule for 2028. I’ll just be floating along until then.

Love from Appalachia,
~Amy

I’ve mentioned that my friend Emily and I exchange three thankfuls every morning. She has also been in the habit of telling me good morning in a different language every day as well as a little tidbit of information about the country it hails from. It intimidates me to think about traveling to foreign countries because I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to effectively communicate. And I don’t just mean directions to the restroom or ordering supper. Like, what if I get over there and have an attack of appendicitis and I can’t convey my symptoms to the doctor? Yes, I’m aware of the invention of Google translate, but still. Time is of the essence! So she also includes how much of the population speaks English, that way I can add it to my list of potential vacation destinations if it sounds like a nice place to visit. We are finding that our perceptions of other countries are a bit biased. We’ve decided that our geography teachers led us astray. We think it’s because we’re conditioned to believe that the United States is the greatest country on Earth, so why in the world would be want to leave? England is nice if you’re into history and the royals, and Australia could be worthy of a visit if you stick to the coastal regions. Maybe when we were in school all those foreign country’s names ran together and we were told they border each other so I’m sure they all just got lumped together as scary and bad. However, I’ve learned that some of these countries, like Lithuania, is perfectly lovely. But I can’t visit because English isn’t even in the top five languages. Macedonia, near Greece, isn’t always hot. They have four seasons, and like us, their coldest month is January and the hottest is July. But then she hits me with ones like this: “Dobry ranch is Belarusian. Unlike the other hidden gems I’ve been learning about, Belarus is just as bleak as we’ve been taught. When they originally broke away from Russia we were buddies with them but that didn’t last long. The US has accused Belarus for crimes against humanity in recent years. You probably don’t want to vacation there.”
All that to say this morning I get: “Kemey hadirki! That’s the way to say good morning to a female in Eritrea, which borders Sudan and Ethiopia. They speak Tigrinya and not a lot of English but it shouldn’t effect you because after reading about it there’s no way in hell I’d let you go visit Eritrea. Between the wildlife, landmines, and kidnappers it isn’t safe at all. I didn’t come across one thing that made me want to visit.”
It’s nice that she could be my travel guide, if I come into a windfall or something. It also reminded me of that meme that says, “Growing up, I thought quicksand would pose a much larger danger in my day to day life.” Gen-X, y’all feel me? It was on every show, not just Gilligan’s Island!

It is sooooo cold today. My hands got cold this morning, so the rest of me is now cold. I’ve been practically sitting on top of my little space heater. The Smoky Bears Team #100 is headed off to the State playoffs in Chattanooga today, and we’ve been encouraged to line the streets. They’re going to be detouring by the Courthouse at 1:00. I guess to get some best wishes luck from Dolly. I hope they win, but I ain’t braving the cold to wave at a school bus full of them.

I had a hair appointment at 2. I walk in and it’s Christy and Lindsey and the room felt off. I figure they’ve just had a mother daughter dispute and tread carefully. Lindsey was flat ironing her hair and Christy’s was down. They informed me they had business in Knoxville after the last couple of clients. They didn’t invite me along, which was unusual, but I was glad because I needed to go by the grocery store on my way home. Jason got home and came in and flopped into the hair dryer chair.
“I’m glad to see you. I need a really big favor,” I wheedled.
He eyed me levelly.
“My dang air pressure is low in my tires. They do this at every cold snap. Willie used to take care of it for me. Last year I swung by Co-op and Richard did, but he kept filling them even after my car honked at him and it made me nervous. I spent the whole winter wondering if they were gonna blow.”
“As long as they’re even all the way around, they’re fine,” Christy said.
Without the first word, Jason heaved himself from the chair and out the door.
“I hope I didn’t put him in a bad mood. I know that’s the last thing he wants to do after working all day.”
Christy assured me it was fine, they have a portable air compressor that is about the same size as a small tool box. Lindsey piped up that he’d just used it on hers the other day. They set my heart at ease, even more so when he brought it in and showed it to me. I swear, I really don’t know what I’d do without the Finchums. I depend on them so much. So much more than a beauty shop. It really is like Truvy’s ❤️
“Thanks for the hair and air!” I called, heading out.

At Food City, I stumbled upon the Little Debbie Christmas tree donuts. I grabbed a bag, praying they were at least better than those nasty muffins.
Somehow, I managed to spend over $200. When I got home I realized one of my roasts rang up $6 high. The other one was right. How does this happen? And more importantly, what else has been screwed up over the years that I haven’t caught? The only reason I caught this is because it was $18 and I thought, “What in tarnation did I buy that was $18?!?!” A $12 roast, that’s what. So now I get to fool with that first thing Monday. (What? You think I’m going out this weekend? You are sadly mistaken. I took a picture of my receipt alongside the roast and dumped it in a freezer bag. I didn’t plan on carting it back over there, either. Hopefully this would suffice. After I got a couple of bags of bad potatoes, I mentioned it to the produce manager. He said I needn’t transport smelly potatoes back, just tell them. I suppose I have an honest face, because where’s the accountability. Or maybe they figure if you’ll lie about getting rotten potatoes, you need them worse than they do.

Today’s writing prompt was “do you ever see wild animals?”
Well, I’m looking at a fur covered 80# wild child right now….
I guess this is a pertinent question for city dwellers. But surely they still see birds with regularity….and rats.
Glad I’m not a city dweller. I’ll take my groundhogs, deer, coyotes, and snakes over your buildings, smog, and grime any day.

Love from Appalachia,
~Amy

I did not sleep very well at all. Maybe I got too full last night. Sometimes that happens. I felt like it was a very light sleep, and I just didn’t rest. Chester sure did, though. He was piled in next to me, snoring contentedly. Every time I flipped over he huffed. Excuuuuuuse me. I finally gave up and got up at 5:30. I don’t know how long I’d laid there thinking I’d fall back asleep. I don’t know if I’m optimistic or just deranged. Once I got a couple of cups of coffee in me, and felt that my defenses were up and in place, I decided I could face the day. And the internet.
Turns out there was a fire over here off Creswell, so maybe it’s the sirens that kept me up all night. Or maybe that blamed wind. I don’t think I can blame the moon this time.

JA checked in, as is his normal (except it was via text and I was glad). I was in no mood. “I’m here. Mad at the world and I don’t have a reason and I can’t help it.”
He wisely left me alone for several hours.

The more I read about the local brush fire over by the house, the more I was concerned about my cousin. The news reported no loss of life or structures, but the news gets stuff wrong. Plus, if it was that close to him, I knew he’d have the scoop. I called him.
“Are you the firebug?” I asked when he answered.
“Yup, it was up there on the mountain, about where your uncle liked to sit. A pine tree fell over on the powerlines. That wind last night was rough!”
I didn’t know whether to giggle or gasp. “It really was you! I was just calling to give you a hard time! I thought maybe it was from the soybean fields, like your combine caught fire or something, from the location the news gave.”
“Noooo, it was up there on the mountain, it looked a lot worse than it was. If I’da had the water wagon hooked up I could’ve put it out myself. It was just a buncha leaves. Do you know the fire department wouldn’t even put it out? They had to wait on Forestry! Isn’t that stupid?”
“Did they not have a brush truck?”
“They do, but they said they couldn’t go up there. And Forestry just made a firebreak, they blew all those leaves back in to it. I left them with it at about one this morning.”
“Wow!”
“The news reported it was ten acres, but it was really only about six. They blow everything out of proportion.”
“Scare tactics,” I agreed. “Tragedy sells.”
“And it was three or four hundred yards from Chris’. There was no danger.”
“Well, I’m glad everybody’s alright. I guess your momma got excited. That’ll give her something to talk about for awhile.”
Isn’t that funny? I should have known 🤦‍♀️

Sometimes I can’t help but question what the point is of even trying to be the best version of myself? Where has it gotten me? Submitting to a variety of lessons, only to not use any of them. Even my posture sucks. I guess I would have been painfully shy if I hadn’t been put on stage with all eyes on me. I’m still a little bashful in certain situations. I struggled with staying on beat, so guitar lessons were obviously a waste of time and money. I can swim well enough to stay alive, but I learned in college my form and breathing techniques were all wrong. And when is it handy in life to know how to twirl a baton?
And where did good grades get me? I see people who can barely spell in executive positions. I’ve never had to trot out my degree to get a job. But I guess I’ve never really applied for anything prestigious, either. I didn’t get the raises and promotions like I felt I earned at Co-op, but that’s not for my lack of effort. That’s on management.
Being a good wife didn’t work out so hot, either. At least I can say I did my best. Maybe that’s what it’s all about. Not proving anything to anybody, but being able to look at yourself and say, “You know what, I tried. I did my best to be a good student. I tried my hardest at lessons, and I loved the best I could. I may not have done as well as everybody thought I should have, but I really did apply myself. I remember it being difficult and struggling and help not coming from where it should. But I gave it my all.”
So there. That’s not so bad, is it? Sometimes the fruits of our labor go unseen but we carry them in our heart.
Really, right now, I feel like someone should award me for not punching Jake directly in the throat. I’m doing my best!! I feel like if I get up -for any reason- it’s gonna happen, though.
These are the thoughts I have when I get inadequate sleep.

I’m gonna do better.
Tomorrow. Today is shot.

Love from Appalachia,
~Amy

I dreamt I went up here to the Sistine Chapel attraction in Pigeon Forge. It was in a hotel, and my favorite part was how they had transformed the pool area into a Greek oasis, with all these jungle type trees and foliage. I tried to spend all my time in there. I was with somebody, maybe Kevin, I don’t remember. And then, for some reason, they brought in three longhorn bulls for display and were trading out the tired bulls they’d been using. I don’t know what that was about. Well, I do know. Emily asked me if I was planning on going the other day, and I hadn’t heard about it and looked it up. It looks fairly interesting, and something that Rhonda would like to take in. Then last night coming home I noticed a billboard on 66 advertising it. So there ya go.

All kinds of great things happening today. First and foremost, Jake Right now is in Knoxville. A very pleasant day ahead, indeed. Also, Scott fixed the driveway yesterday afternoon while I was out on the Christmas tree excursion, so that’s a bonus for sure. It was about a crater out there and I know Maggie appreciates his efforts. I texted Chas as I was headed out this morning and she said she was gonna have me over and casually suggest that her pantry would look a lot better with the door installed and the trim work around the house needs completing. 🤣🤣🤣 She said he never acts that quick when she requests stuff. I guess he figured he better keep my bread buttered on account of the free range chickens and dogs over the years. It could be better, but I’m thrilled he worked on it some. I hate I had to ask, but I’m in and out about a tenth as much as they are, so I felt like it should be up to the one and only man on the place to take care of it.

JA’s doctor visit was lengthy. The doctor said the Urgent Care didn’t prescribe enough antibiotics either time and that’s why his cough is lingering. He said he’s going to stop going to them because they also misdiagnosed his rash, it is a classic eczema, not a yeast infection, and that’s why it hasn’t went away, either. I asked him since they didn’t get that right, did they do a pregnancy test just to make double sure? Obviously, he appreciated my humor. They did a thorough work up on him today. Since he takes omeprazole for reflux, but no multivitamin, his magnesium is probably low. The main problem, she thinks, is the acid reflux. She said no whiskey or beer or spicy foods for two weeks, to just eat bland stuff. And he’s ok with that. We’ll see. But yes, it was that nerve that got constricted with the coughing. He’s not to drive tomorrow until they get the bloodwork back and can get to the bottom of things for sure.

The library Christmas party. We pray. They read to me. We eat. It’s not very exciting, but I like it. And everybody knows that food prepared by someone else is always better. Especially when you don’t have to pay for it. Icing on the cake is we didn’t have to do cleanup duty, either. Bliss.

But tonight’s Christmas party was a true snooze. Fish text me before I got there and told me there were two screaming kids with our group.
My reply was “what do you want from the bar?”
So I stopped there on my way through. Gina was trying to get a glass of wine. There were no bartenders in evidence.

That was supposed to be a cosmo, which are always, without fail, pink. So I’m not sure what she did, but it was ok. She was older and very unsure of everything. I only had the one. Rhonda text me to see if I was still coming. Not sure why she didn’t ask Fish, who was exactly one person down from her. I didn’t talk to her at all all night, she was totally wrapped up in Gina, who was seated behind her and Fish.
I stepped through the doorway and paused, martini glass aloft, and slid my gaze down the long table, looking for Fish.
Rhonda was like, “You can sit by Tim.”
I tried not to narrow my eyes (probably unsuccessful) and said, “Thanks, that was my intention.” But it made me want to sit elsewhere. Anywhere but where she tried to direct me.
They put us all at one long table. It was a smaller crowd this year. I recognized maybe half and could put names on four.

Pucketts is weird, they don’t really have servers. They have a QR Code on the table for the menu and to order, and you get your own drinks. As in the regular diners too, not just us. And as in, Coke products, not liquor. So I won’t be back because I’m sure they still want tips. It’s bs. The food was buffet style for us. There was salad, green beans, baked beans, mac & cheese (nope), rolls, meatloaf (did not try), chicken, pulled pork, cobbler, and banana puddin. The guy clearing plates and giving us direction said there was cherry cobbler. Fish got back with his plate and I pointed at it and said, “that ain’t no cherry cobbler. That’s blackberry.” It was too dark and they weren’t smooth like cherries.
He took a bite and argued with me. I shrugged. About the time I got back with my second plate (only another small piece of chicken, green beans, and the cobbler, before you go judgmental) he was working his way through it and saying maybe it WAS blackberry, because there were lots of little seeds. Mmmhmm.
I was like, “I can spot blackberry cobbler at thirty paces”.

We didn’t hear a Christmas story this year, we got a poem about a hairdryer, which was actually about a mother’s love. I guess all the mothers in attendance enjoyed it. I was eager to make my departure. And so I did. I hope next year’s is better. I kinda got the feeling everybody wanted to be somewhere else. And going by how few of us there were, everybody was 🙃 I like that the ones who came made the effort. It strengthens the group to be around one another away from work, in my opinion. It makes you remember they’re people with personalities and families, not just someone who steals your pens. I still appreciate a Christmas party, and being included. I don’t think I would have welcomed the board at Co-op attending our employee one. But what they don’t know is I totally get it. And I’m still a little awed to be in the presence of so many librarians at once. ❤️

Love from Appalachia,
~Amy