So tell me: are you a car sitter? Why? I get it if you are early for an appointment. It’s more relaxing to sit alone in the comfort of your car than a germ riddled waiting room full of coughers, smokers, and dopers. But I see these people that I feel like sit in their car for extended periods every time they get in their car. I mean, I like Maggie a lot, but I don’t wanna hang out in her. I want to go places—fast—but not just…sit there. Unless I’ve caught one of my favorite songs on the radio, which is unlikely, since I rarely listen to the radio.
Are they evading responsibilities of family? Kind of hiding, saying, “I’m still at the store,” which technically isn’t a lie. Even though they could have left fifteen minutes prior. Do they not worry about being approached by unsavory characters? I don’t like to idle. I feel exposed in parking lots. Somebody could slash your tires, rendering you immobile, then slash your throat.
Nope. And I don’t even watch true crime shows.
Anyway. Just something I’ve observed that I don’t understand. The list is long of things I study on but never come any closer to figuring out.
Chapman Highway is still riddled with potholes. For every one they fix three come to its funeral. There’s a deep one at the Wye. And today I passed a car, just past it, sitting on a rim. I am unsure if the two were related but odds are good. At any rate, it was one of those days it was a relief to get home amongst the tailgaters and recklessness.
Full moon tonight and it’s really something. I just hope it lets me sleep. Currently drinking a glass of wine to help ensure a few zzz’s. And rubbing Chess’ ears always helps relax me. This poor dog sure endures a lot of that. I’m not sure I’d be so accommodating if I were in his….paws. I still owe him a trip somewhere for National Love Your Pet Day or whatever the heck it was.
Cold bright moon of February
Proud and bold
Drawing oceans
Changing hearts
Questioning minds
Awake in your dreams
Behind glass
Not untouchable
But everything will break
And you’ll have to cross it
Barefoot
And alone
Reaching eventual peace
And happiness
Brighter than the sun
And sparkling
But darkness in between
Last night is catching up to me. I might select another writing prompt for tomorrow so you don’t hafta endure my rambling of the mundane same ol’ thang. ‘Cause it’s just Chester Hair Eradication Day.
Love and moonlit nights from Appalachia,
~Amy
I understand now, 53 days in, why writing daily is important. And why it is crucial to stay on schedule. It is a dedication to a craft and it builds discipline. I thought I had about as much discipline as one redhead can contain, but there was evidently room for growth. Because I will say that about 30% of the time, I could have found a reason to skip writing. But I made a promise to myself to do this, so here I am.
I heard a time or two today “if you’da just kept your mouth shut…”. Other variations include: “You was broadcastin’ when you shoulda been receivin’” and “Mrs. Ivey, something to share with the rest of class?” “If you’d hush, I’d tell ye!” I’m sure there are others that evade me from over the years.
Yesterday after work, I parked myself at the only joint in town that serves pizza I will willingly eat. Gatlinburg Brewery. The beer is ok, but the pizza is off the chain. Or hook, whatever the current lingo is for Very Good. You better git yer goin’ britches on and try it soon. Through the week, this month only, they offer buy one get one. So go! Here’s a handy link https://gatlinburgbrewingcompany.com/menu-1 the Leaf Looker and the Basic AF are my favorites. I got the Spinny Dippin’ last night and added red pepper flakes but I think the sauce needs to be garlic instead of Alfredo. Just my take.
Tonight I’m headed back to Blackhorse with Kay so thought I better knock some of this out so I won’t be up till midnight. I don’t plan to drink anything heavier than beer; I’ve drank a little something every day this week and just ain’t feelin’ it. I’m not telling Kay, she’ll be disappointed. Not that I’m a different person with alcohol, but you know it’s not much fun drinking alone. She won’t notice after two or three glasses of Sauvignon Blanc, anyway 🤣🤣
….ok, back home now. I did have an espresso martini with white chocolate. I’d been craving one for awhile, and to appease Kay I did order one. But I didn’t really want it. I told myself it was dessert…even though I drank it before I had my meal 😁
So on the way down 411, I noticed something I didn’t notice last week because I went another way down and when I came back home it was dark. But at the mark on the road where Officer McCowan was tragically killed, a memorial of sorts has been erected. There was a cross, draped with blue tinsel and flowers arranged. On every wooden fence post bordering the road, there was a thin blue line flag. I imagine this was done by the landowners, or perhaps his brothers in blue. Many down that way had blue porch lights. It’s nice to see a community band together, but it came at a mighty high price. Kay and I discussed how fortunate we are to live in an area where we typically feel so safe. And how jacked up some people are. But there’s still a prevailing sense of security, because we know justice is going to be served. I hope that no count thug is terrified. I hope he’s shaking in his shoes every waking moment. I hope they don’t let him have shoes. I hope his dreams are haunted. I hope he feels hunted. Because he is. Like we all said for the Channon Christian and Christopher Newsom, hell, turn ‘em loose and let Gary Christian have his way. Or any of the rest of us.
And that main piece of total trash is still sitting pretty in jail, awaiting execution. Since 2007. And that’s something else to grind gears about. Here’s a link to a local news source, in case you aren’t familiar. But you can also wiki it. https://www.knoxnews.com/story/news/crime/2017/08/24/archives-horror-christian-newsom-killings-focus-what-happened-chipman-street/597805001/ it still turns my stomach and makes me clench my jaw. I hope hell is fit to receive those demons.
Driving down the scenic highway, I was struck, as I often am, by the rolling farmland. And how hard one particular landowner has fought the urbanization and imminent domain of the projected Pellissippi Parkway. How many hours of lost sleep has that farmer sacrificed, how much money and time has he sunk into defending what he and the generations before him scraped to buy and tend? How many people have admired a sunrise or sunset over his property, and watched cattle graze and corn tassel? How many rolls of hay have been put up and how many times does the combine traverse harvesting soybeans? How many hours does he toil? Are there grandkids? Is it in a trust? Will it ultimately matter?
People don’t take pictures of subdivisions. They take pictures of farms, of clean fields, of well kept barns. Everybody wants to live here but that means we’re just gonna be another Cleveland if we don’t protect what we have. I suppose growth is a necessary evil, but I don’t have to like it. The belching guy on my left last night at the pizza joint was from Washington State. He thoroughly enjoyed telling everybody in earshot this fact as he shoveled food and beer down his gullet. “Everything is so expensive here. We’re going back for a few years, get some money saved up, come back here, and hopefully marijuana will be legalized here by then.” Big dreams, this one. And a big talker. I could tell his girlfriend had reservations. I hope she wizens up before she moves across the country with this blow hard.
At any rate, here’s to the sunny slopes of yesterday, as Gus says.
Love (and resentment) from Appalachia,
~Amy
So I’ve got this book, “1000 Writing Prompts”. It’s been super beneficial when I’m stuck in a rut. I asked my friend to pick a number. Immediately, “Seven.”
My favorite.
#7. How were you named? If you feel that your name is boring and the story behind it equally so, make up a name and come up with an interesting story behind that.
I honestly don’t know how I came by Amelia Marie or Amy, either one. I also can’t believe I’ve never written about it. But I haven’t.
I reckon Amy is a common nickname for Amelia, even though Rhonda said if she had named me Amelia and people insisted on calling me Amy, she’d pinch their little heads off. I think I chose to go by Amy when I started school because I had a hard time making the “e”. I got to be lazy before I ever got started good. What I don’t understand is why we didn’t spell it Ami, because that would have been my initials, and also a bit perkier. I remember mom often telling me it was a good thing I was born a girl, because if I had been a boy, she would have had to named me Maynard, after my dad. I can think of nothing more mortifying. I made the mistake of repeating this to my then-friend Jena, who promptly told it all over the Co-op because, let’s face it, it’s hilarious. It stuck. There are a select few former Co-op employees who still call me Maynard: Bobby Joe Cole 430, Bob Huskey, Pink, Hobbs, Watson, & Robbie Houser. One day, my mother visited me at work and overheard some of the guys teasing me.
“Why do they call you that?”
I looked at her incredulously. “Because I made the mistake of telling them that’s what you were gonna name me if I had been a boy.”
She looked horrified. “I would never! That’s an awful name!”
And yet, here we are, over twenty years later, and I’m still stuck with it.
I didn’t like Amelia Marie for the longest. It just seemed pretentious. But as I’ve gotten older I like it much better, and realize that even though it’s a flowery, romantic name, it’s a heckuva lot better than what some people are strapped with. If I’d keep my mouth shut, I could probably pass off as a presentable lady and not a hillbilly. Alas, I am what I am. And there’s no chance of me keeping my mouth shut.
I remember once when I was very young, I was complaining about my name to Uncle Dale, who was, of course, poking the bear. “It’s not funny! I sound like a pilgrim ship! The Nina, The Pinta, The Amelia Marie!!” He thought this was absolutely hilarious, and got to calling me Pilgrim from that day forward. It didn’t help I was a pilgrim in a school play around that time, either.
This photo hung on his workbench as long as I can remember. When he passed, I was down there looking for something and realized my picture wasn’t hanging in its usual spot. I got to digging around and became a little upset when I couldn’t locate it. I did find my high school graduation announcement, which was baffling, since I graduated in 1997 and that house wasn’t built until 2001. Anyway, a few months later, we were in the safe hunting some documents and came across a Ziploc bag with an envelope inside. Within the envelope was a picture of Brenda in a bathing suit leaned up against the GTO, and this one of me 🥰 He’d just been keeping it safe.
The Pilgrim lives on, as I still call myself that reciting stories or repeating words of wisdom I heard over the years.
And now you know the story of the Pilgrim, Amelia Marie.
Love from Appalachia,
~Amy
I just opened a bottle of Meiomi, so I figured I better start on this 🤣
Today was uneventful, on the whole. Just the way I like it. I ran through the Chickalay drive thru for some minis on my way to work. I ordered ten, but ate six. I probably could have eaten all ten if I had set my mind to it. Work was quiet; most of my coworkers were at a conference in Knoxville. I didn’t feel that the topics would benefit me, in my current role, so I just went to work. And good thing, I had some visitors and a few phone calls to return. I just wish those girls up front were what they advertised to our landlord. Oh well. I don’t expect them to last. I’m not gonna waste time being mad about something I’m not going to deal with. I am gonna tell Charlie all about them when he asks, though. And he will ask.
Boy, this wine is good.
Today is National Love Your Pet Day. When will these nonsensical holidays cease? Well, then I guess we’d just have a bunch of regular days and some people find it hard to celebrate on normal days. Not this girl. But Facebook memories have alerted me that I do typically celebrate the wonder that is Chester. So I guess I need to do something a little special for him. But tomorrow, as I have already put on my fleece pajamas and am consuming the aforementioned wine. He appears to pretty happy laying across my lap playing with his moose, anyway.
The sun was absolutely blinding all day. And I loved it. I’m looking forward to reading poetry on my blanket outside on the grass. I’m looking forward to dogwoods blooming and all my fun summer clothes.
The commute home went surprisingly smoothly, I could hardly believe there were no near-misses and no tailgaters. A miracle! I was thinking it doesn’t take much to make me happy. Just not getting run over.
Do you have friends you talk to every day? I have several. And they’re all different. Some just send Tiktoks , others text, a few call. But if any of them go more than 48 hours, I’m sending out distress signals. Others I talk to once a week, or see about that often. You gotta check in on people. I’m guilty for not always reaching out first, but I do at least answer. And I’ll also admit to sometimes not having to have a conversation when it’s been a bit of a taxing day, or, conversely, a quiet one without many interruptions. Because I’m selfish. Just think, 8.5 hours at work, plus another to allow for the drive. One hour to get ready. Eight hours asleep. Must blog. Must attend to Chester and other household duties. Doesn’t give you a lot of time for idle chitchat. Not that I’m busy every single second at work, but I am guarded about taking phone calls. And it’s hard to text and tally figures or write emails if you’re having a texting conversation. I’m just saying is please give me a little grace if a message goes unanswered. It’s not that I don’t love you. But if I open it while I’m doing something else….well, can I just blame being a Gemini and leave it at that? It’s too much to keep up with, all this social media crap. I should have given it up for Lent but I’m posting my blog daily there and that feels like cheating.
Anyway. Don’t tell Chester today was his day. I’m a slacker. This is a prime example of why it’s a good thing I never had children. I can see me now: “Your birthday?? Well, whoopie! I reckon I did all the work, bringing you into this world! Where are my presents? We’re gonna do what I wanna do!”
Yeahhhhhhh.ll
At least tomorrow is Wednesday. Monday slipped right through, didn’t give no trouble, which is always a plus.
I feel like arguing if anybody desires a lively debate. But I’ll warn you, I’m mighty sleepy, so I’d prolly let you win.
I did not proofread. All errors are my own. And Meiomi’s. 🙃
(Postscript: corrected several, three of which were autocorrect on my iPad, which should not count)
Good night, good morning m and good luck from Appalachia,
~Amy
I feel like I have done nothing but eavesdrop on people today. And it’s highly entertaining. First was at the bar at Firebirds. You wouldn’t believe the things people tell bartenders. Or each other at the bar. And just when it was getting good this dude sits down next to me hacking his guts out and I’m immediately disgusted. So his wife was already sitting there and had eaten and evidently he’d had a job interview at the restaurant. Not for the restaurant. I understood it to be an acting job, but I’m not sure. He’d ordered steak and dessert. She said, “Were you not planning on introducing me?” And he’s like, “No, should I have?” Which I’m kinda like him, why would he? That’s kinda weird. And why did she bring him, anyway? Can he not drive? She says something about she should have gone over and given him a kiss. In the meantime, he’s still coughing very vehemently and I’m thoroughly and visibly repulsed and thinking of moving down a stool but that would put me next to another character that I wasn’t sure about. I was stuck between a cougher and a thug. And the bartender, her name was Amy, too, had enough on her plate without me playing musical chairs. She’d already forgot my water twice. And we’re not gonna talk about how long it took me to get my food or my ticket, but I wasn’t in any great big hurry, so what did I care? All I can figure is the interviewer was a female and the wife was jealous.
Anyway, turns out the cougher and his wife had been at the HOSPITAL this morning. I kept inching further away and kept my head turned but I’m sure all the people staring were seeing me snarl my nose. Why was this man out in public? Shoo Lort. I wanted to ask for Clorox wipes when they finally left for Trader Joe’s to get apple juice.
The man and wife across the bar were semi regulars. He ordered a shot of some special Don Julio and they made sure everybody in the bar knew exactly how expensive it is. I also learned her mother had recently died, but I missed from what ailment, and that her crab cakes were so wonderful, even better than the ones she makes at home from stone crab claws she gets from The Shrimp Dock for some exorbitant price. But she wasn’t able to eat much due to her hiatal hernia, that she wasn’t going to have surgery on because of the side effects.
I’m telling you, it would be exhausting being a bartender. Or a hairdresser.
I visited the powder room before I left and there was a little old lady in there unfamiliar with how the doors worked. They had the red/green visible lock mechanism like on an airplane (or at Buc-Cees) and I started to go in the one that was unlocked when she informed me she’d been waiting. I asked her if there was something wrong with that one. No, she didn’t know it was available. So I helped her with that, and I hear her in there talking. The other one became available. I do my business and come out to wash my hands and the lady who’d been in my stall previously was evidently with the lady I had helped. They looked to be about the same age (late sixties), and fairly well to do, judging by their dress. But then I had to help my new friend with the water faucets and lining her hands up with the sensors to make the water come out. It was all very confusing what purpose her friend served, since I was the one in my teaching element to a stranger. I told them to have a nice day. I probably should have been them good luck. Who knows what modern technology would baffle them on their next stop.
Then it was off to the Nissan Dealership for the dreaded oil change. They’re revamping the showroom and service center, and I will admit it does look much nicer. It was in need of a facelift. There was a glass cube occupied by only one couple, and the lobby area was bustling, so I made for the cube. The couple were probably mid-fifties and the woman couldn’t hear it thunder. Her husband was trying to talk to her and she kept saying “huh?” I know some people develop this habit but I truly believe she was deaf as a Dalmatian. And she kept looking at her phone. I thought he was gonna strangle her, and honestly, I couldn’t blame him. He was carrying a backpack but never opened it. It may have been his go bag. If so, I admire his dedication to carrying it on his person. At one point, when he appeared close to explosion, he got up and left the cube. I don’t think his wife noticed. That’s when I began writing this. They were there for something other than brakes, but her brakes needed replaced, too.
Then a little old white haired lady came in with whom I suspected was her daughter. The white haired lady was complaining about the taste of the coffee. The daughter asked if she didn’t put any sugar in it or doctor it up with creamer. I didn’t hear the reply. She may have just shaken her head. A few minutes later she made another derogatory comment about the state of her beverage and the daughter exploded, “well, go pour it out!”
Laws. Y’all see why I travel alone? Nowhere is safe.
My car was ready in no time, and unlike last time, where I was presented with a list of things it was due for, this time I was told everything looked great, including my tires, which I had been agonizing over. So somebody’s trying to hoodoo me. This guy wasn’t too keen on my coupon but I pretty much forced him into taking it. I think I’m gonna just let Richard at the Co-op do it next time.
Went by John Alan’s after to do some drinkin’ thinkin’. I should have just went on to White Pine for the book satchels, but that gives me a reason to get out next week sometime, I reckon. I also didn’t make it by Trader Joe’s, but that was by design. I was afraid of running into Ol’ Whooping Cough and jealous wife.
Traffic was horrendous all day, from Boyd’s Creek to West Knoxville. I had to go get my glasses adjusted (me: “I’m sorry. I’m sure it would help you if I could tell you exactly what’s wrong with them, but all I know is they ain’t fittin’ right.”)
And I had some dude in my front yard this morning taking pictures and so here I go to confront him. I feel certain I was quite the vision, with my unwashed hair in a knot on my head and tromping across the field in my oldest jeans and tennis shoes.
Me: “Hi.”
Him, speculatively: “Hi….??”
Me, instantly irritated because he thinks it’s strange I’m approaching him on my property where he was taking pictures. Vest or not, that don’t mean squat and you have no right. “Who are you?”
Him: *supplies me with his name, which I couldn’t tell you for a million dollars. Does not tell me the name of his company.
Me: “And what are you doing?”
Him: some crap about fiber optic installation on light poles
Me, appraising: “I thought fiber optics were underground.”
Him: “not always.”
Me: “well, I noticed your vest but I didn’t see a work vehicle and I don’t particularly care for people taking pictures on my property uninvited.”
Him: “I understand. They dropped me off and went to pick up the other guy.”
Me: “Yeah, I just saw them go by when I was walking down here to you.”
Him: staring like, “will there be any further interrogation, Medusa?”
Me: “ok, have a nice day.”
Him: “You too….”
I go back to my dog, who was patiently waiting at the gate, appearing relieved that he did the right thing by barking for once.
It’s always the right thing. Because if it’s deer, I wanna see them, too. If it’s a person who doesn’t belong, I definitely need to see them.
I guess I’m a little leery and suspicious, but if I’ve got something worth protecting I intend to defend it, whether it be my personal property, my life, my friends and family, my dog, or just my heart. It’s mine, and I won’t relinquish it until you prove your worth. It may not mean much to you, but to me it’s everything and it was won by hard work and perseverance.
Love from two couch taters,
~Amy
Well, here we are. Or, rather, here I am, since it’s just me. There is no we. Unless I count y’all, which I guess I should, since you’re reading.
Another weekend gone, but I get a bonus day, so that only means I procrastinated from Saturday what I will now need to do tomorrow. Namely, an oil change. I’m gonna make it worthwhile, though, and treat myself to lunch somewhere good.
So I come to you tonight, begging grace and forgiveness, because I’m afraid y’all are gonna revoke my Southerner card. Because, look here now, I made instant potatoes.
And they were goooooo-ooooood. I’ve got no lies to tell. They’re already on my list for next time. Why did I ever spend time peeling, washing, boiling, draining, mashing, seasoning, and working in butter and milk for *real* mashed potatoes? For just me? These are real, too, it says so right on the bag. And they took maybe five minutes.
I really don’t know what else to report on. I have got to finish my book tonight, it goes back tomorrow. White Noise, if you’re interested, by Don Dellio or something like that. I’m too lazy to look. I’m sure I’ve got the spelling close enough and you could find it. Lester recommended it and I liked it at first but now it’s just weird. I’m at 83% and truly nothing much has happened. It’s a National Book Award winner, so I should have known better. I swore off those back in 2015 because every one I picked up sucked. But it was too late for this one, I was already several chapters in when I realized it and I thought it was gonna be different. It is not. But I’m this far, and I’ve only finished one book this year 😳. They’re all just dragging on with me. I used to read two or three a week. No longer. It’s more like one a month. I don’t know what my major malfunction is, as Cynthia would say.
I could eat something but nothing too big. I had an early supper and now here it is, 9:30, and I’m wishing for like, a tiny taco or two. Maybe some guac. Better to go to bed slightly hungry than overly full, I suppose. I did pilfer a slice of bacon bound for for bacon bits, three grapes past their prime, and two buffalo crackers. We’ll say it was a personal charcuterie. I was too shiftless to carve me off a chunk of cheese.
I wanted to write a poem, but poems are a little tricky. It’s about a girl, in love with a guy, but of course he’s the wrong guy and he knows it but she doesn’t.
I can see
From the outside in
Knowing him
He will break you
Effortlessly
Do not love him
The less attention you give
Is better
Run free while you can
He is not the one
He forgets you exist
Do you not see
He does not think of you
He will not help you
He does not care
Callous
Already tired of your adoration
He is that way
You will never be
Young enough
Pretty enough
Strong enough
Tall enough
Worthy
In his eyes
Don’t bother
He wants one
To do it all
Welcome to the show
Now stand back and applaud
And try not to get run over
As he steps off the stage
All smiles
For the bigger
More important
More lucrative
Fans
He twirls his cape
Elvis in his mind
A legend
And you are not even Priscilla
And why would you want to be
I have GOT to finish this book.
Goodnight (or maybe good morning) from Appalachia,
~Amy
Good evening. Or good morning, I suppose, if you’re reading this tomorrow. Or maybe it’s good afternoon. Whatever you please.
A simple hello would have sufficed, but I now have all that typed and I’m not erasing it. I really just wanted to jump in with what I’m wanting to ask y’all, but I’m constantly reminding my coworkers of Teams etiquette and so I felt I should practice what I preach.
Whew. Now that all that is out of the way, even though I’m not following Southern protocols and asking after your health, and how your momma’s doin’, and how the kids are coming along and if little Suzy is going out for soccer this spring…isn’t that the trending sport these days? Soccer? I just wanted to ask y’all if someone would please tell me with Bath & Body Works puts their 3-wick candles on sale. Because I’m not sure if the online store follows the same sales as brick and mortars. And I sure as shit ain’t driving to Five Oaks once a week to check it out in person. Although I do need to go in Clarks. My black flip flops will not live to see another season.
I made a balsamic roast in the crock pot today. It smelled so very delicious cooking. That is the trouble with cooking in crock pots while at home. I feel sorry for my dogs over the years.
It’s been an altogether pleasant day, which is more than I can say for the poor lady who wrecked in the curve in front of my house this morning. I hope she’s going to be alright. Her car was totally demolished. I heard a big crash and knew instantly what it was, but I was watching traffic and three or four cars from each direction kept whizzing by so I figured somebody had merely run out of the road and took out Jenkins’ mailbox and nothing was worse for the wear. Except, of course, the mailbox, but he’s designed a breakaway style, so usually it’s just a matter of collecting it, knocking a dent or two out, and tamping the post back upright. But not too set. You know, to prepare for the next time. But anyway, this Mustang came down the road, acting like they were making their mind up whether to stop, and they did, in my aunt’s driveway, and two guys got out and ran through our yard and just past where I couldn’t see. Then my phone rang. It was my aunt, checking on the commotion. I watched someone pacing in the road, on the phone, and other cars stopping. I decided I probably needed to go check it out when one of the concerned citizens went to frantically ringing the dinner bell at my neighbors. I haven’t really gotten excited about a wreck out here in eons, because people were constantly wrecking when I was growing up. Our curve wasn’t banked right, and also the asphalt wasn’t roughed up like it is now, so when it rained it was just a free for all. Who needs NASCAR? Once, we were sitting on the porch, probably breaking beans (I feel like 90% of porch time was spent breaking beans. That’s why I go out there and loaf, now. It’s seen its share of hard labor). Anyway, we were sitting on the porch, and this car lost control, and went all the way through the front field where the garden was and never let out. Can you imagine? People were heathens back then, too. Of course, it was the eighties…..But by-passers weren’t stopping today because it was hard to see her the way the car had landed.
I still haven’t watched the Super Bowl halftime show, nor have I hunted up the Budweiser commercial, which is honestly all I care about. I ain’t done much of nothin’, besides cook and wash dishes today. I’m glad nobody relies on me for much of anything. They’d be hurtin’. I did vacuum dog hair, but that goes without saying. It’s a daily battle.
Sometimes I can’t believe this is my life. I spent so many nights out in my twenties I guess I thought that’s how I’d always be. But I truly have zero desire. I’m quite content right here. Although I do wish Chester would give me a little more room on the couch. This dog really pushes his luck sometimes 😉
A three day weekend that’s only a third of the way in. It stretches before me, limitless. And I’ll probably spend it right here. Wait. Ugh. Oil change. I have to go do it. Monday’s problem, it appears. And I do wanna go to White Pine and get this book bag.
The shop owner is catching some flack over it and she’s basically told them to bugger off, which I love. So I absolutely have to show support. Prolly get Lisa one, too.
I guess that’s it for today. All you people who have mistakenly thought I had some big exciting life are finding out much different, aren’t you?
Read something good that isn’t on your phone. Oh! I’ll tell you- I read Shania Twain’s story today and it’s fascinating and repulsive and I have a much greater respect for her now. I also read a bit about Mindy McCready, which is how I ended up reading about Shania and my LANDS what a train wreck. Sounds like she got it honest from her momma, though. Anyway, check those out if you can’t find anything else.
Love and dogs who defy personal space from Appalachia,
~Amy
Do not let these warm sunny days
Of February
Trick you
It is not summer
It is not yet spring
My summer was filled with
Three trips
To two different rivers
Where I did not fish
Sunflowers & morning glories
Beer drank in the barn hall
Over tears
And sleepless evenings
Endless conversations
With friends I thought
I already knew
But raw with emotion
One relaxing day on the lake
Poetry
And looking at the stars
Because I couldn’t hold it in
Fire trucks at the fair
As we posed in our tiaras
There was coffee cornhole charcuterie and caves
There were plenty of laughs
And some really big surprises
Summer was perfect as usual
And unforgettable
So February needs to get in line
And be winter
Because I want more cozy days
Before I’m a sweaty mess
On a sweltering day
Parked directly over the air conditioner
Set on 65
I want to eat more chili and soup
And roasts and meatloaf
Before I turn to salads and avocados
And ice cream
I want time spent curled in my blanket
With a book on my lap
And a candle flickering
And the wind howling beyond my windows
February should be itself
Everything else is taken
Just like you
To blog or not to blog…there is no question.
The question is what am I gonna write about? This was so far removed from my brain today, when someone asked me this evening what I was gonna blog about, I almost answered, “what blog?” At least, I don’t think I did.
So I could tell you about how I’m a snob. No, really. People truly think that. And I guess I am. I don’t go out of my way to talk to strangers (I just hug them). I am not going to tell you how I adore your {clothes/ shoes/ hair/ eye makeup/ jewelry/ food/ house/ car} to make you like me. You know people do that, don’t you? They’ll just gush and flatter and go on to make you feel good about yourself but it’s all hogwash. I will tell you if I truly do like whatever it is. I’m also a snob about quality. I don’t want cheap toilet paper, Kleenex, or paper towels. I guess I’m a snob about paper products. Funnily enough, I don’t like eating off paper plates 🤔 I mean, I get it, for cooking out and you’ve got a passel of drunks in your backyard plus you don’t wanna do a bunch of dishes. Or if I make a sandwich or get pizza, a paper plate is fine. But if I’m eating a meal- meat and three sides- I want an honest-to-goodness plate. I guess it’s because I never had kids. Kids break stuff.
Speaking of food, I have eaten all day but I’m still thinking I could eat a little something else 😏 I had my oatmeal this morning for breakfast. Then my strawberries had ripened sufficiently so I dipped them in white chocolate and had to sample a few to make sure I was doing it right 😉 then I had a meatball sub for lunch…then I had a whole bunch of white chocolate strawberries…then I came home and ate my leftovers from last night…and a great big Honeycrisp apple…then some club crackers with cheese. I mean…..it was primarily fruit…you can’t really get full on chocolate covered strawberries. You can about make yourself sick, but you still ain’t full. That’s some wisdom from Amy, right there.
Chester woke me up sometime after one last night with a Level II Bark. Level II usually garners my attention enough for me to come check things out but I was so warm and cozy and sleeping so very well. I listened intently for sounds of robbers. If I played my cards right I wouldn’t have to get out of bed to shoot them….but nah, just coyotes. Sounded like at least two dozen, so there were probably three.
Chester has about five barks. They’re rated the opposite of hurricanes:
Level I: the most intense. This means, “Something bad is going down and I’m gonna take charge of the situation by eating their face off if you don’t get in here.” I’m not sure what actually happens when I’m not home and he barks like this, but it’s mildly frightening to watch when I am. My friend’s dad dropped some papers off the other day. He stuck them inside the screen door. “What kinda dog is ‘at?” He asked me when I got home. “Probably pit and chocolate lab mixed, best anyone figures,” I told him. “Well, all I knew is I wasn’t going in the house!” 🤣🤣🤣 that’s the idea.
Level II: something ain’t exactly right, but it’s probably nothing. But I should probably check.
Level III: Nyla is outside and I must goooooooo frolic with her. Often accompanied by whining.
Level IV: Scott is home.
Level V: I’m actually asleep and dreaming I’m barking.
I am so glad tomorrow is Friday. I get to see Sweet Cynthia and that’s always a treat! She thinks I’m a hoot and a holler.
My friend’s mom called me this afternoon to see if I was going to the forum about the school board. “Nah, I already voted anyway,” I told her. “Oh, and your election was today, wasn’t it?” Me: “No, it was Tuesday.” Her: “I thought today was Tuesday. *sigh* Amy, I’m telling you, I’m not the girl I once was.” I tried not to laugh too hard. I have those days right regular and I’m merely forty something.
I guess I’ve covered all the bases for now. I’ll let ya know if anything transpires. It better not, I am very sleepy. And I need to go to bed before I decide to eat anything else.
Love from Appalachia,
~Amy
This should be fun, as I am still about 10% lit.
So I was still mildly grumpy this morning: residual from yesterday. I was trying to just live in the moment, as I’m constantly encouraging y’all to do. My commute wasn’t even strenuous; I came right on up the road, jamming to Whiskey Myers. I love me some Whiskey Myers. Anyway, I got situated at work, ate my breakfast, and as it goes, I started to feel altogether better about life. It’s just a matter of prioritizing aggravations where they belong and knocking out chores.
So after awhile I decided to return my steel voting box and see if I could get in to cast my vote in the primary, and even more importantly, the heat for school board. There aren’t many things I like better than voting. And since not a one of y’all jerks brought me cupcakes, I needed a boost. So off I went.
The commission is forever friendly. They didn’t have much going on, and gladly relieved me of my steel box burden. The little feller who showed me to my machine was ever patient and knowledgeable about how to cast my votes. I told him I was very familiar with the process; I vote early and often 🤣 but he was just doing his job, and it’s a lot to memorize, so I let him rattle on. He did ask if I was having a nice Valentines. Sure, buddy.
On my way out, I enlightened the men working the exit proceedings that it is historically bad luck to go out a door you didn’t come in. David McNabb would have fought you over this detail. I didn’t push the issue, but that’s not to say I liked it.
Then, while I was on that end of town, I decided to brave the “little Walmart”. As a rule, I don’t like Walmart, but they are cheaper on vegetables and canned stuff, so I bought a few things. $100 worth of a “few” things 🙄 it sure doesn’t take long. Especially if you have to have a bottle of wine.
Let’s see. After that I came back to work and scarfed down my Caesar salad and was perusing Facebook when Blackhorse’s dang Valentines ad came back up. I am such a sucker. I simply cannot resist crème brûlée. The more I thought about it, the better idea it seemed.
So off I went.
Did it occur to me that the funeral for fallen officer McCowan would be traveling the same path as me? Of course not, because I hadn’t done my research and thought that all that had transpired in the middle of the day today. Did anyone have the foresight to warn me? Well, yes, sort of, but it was too late and I was like a fly in a spiderweb before I knew I was upon it.
But truthfully, I did not mind. I felt an odd sense of gratitude and remorse as I sat in traffic to honor the man who gave all. And I also had the wayward thought that if one wanted to commit a crime in Blount County, now was your opportunity.
I saw officers, rescue squad personnel, and firemen from all neighboring municipalities. There was a cavalcade of privately owned motorcycles bringing up the rear after the cruisers. All I could do was turn my headlights on, my radio off, and weep silently. I couldn’t begin to imagine the grief and anger behind the wheels of every car. It stretched for literal miles, and I only bore witness to the tail end.
It took me over an hour and a half to travel the same distance I can typically make in 45 minutes, and that was with turning around and taking a side street. But I am not complaining. I would not be an officer of the law for any amount of money. Someone posted a live video yesterday of them bringing down the convict, and I had to stop watching. The blatant disrespect and complete rudeness of this videographer was enough to make me want to crawl through my phone and mash her mouth. Against concrete. Over and over until maybe brain matter leaked through her nose.
Anyway.
I finally made it to Blackhorse, and my hopes were dashed about sitting at the bar with all the fun singles. Two barstools remained, one was being saved for a girl and the other was staked out with some roses, a beer, and a “reserved” sign for Officer McCowan.
“Table for one, then, please,” I said to the perky hostess who couldn’t conceal her quick flash of pity for me, alone on the commercialized love day. I flashed a winsome grin and dropped a wink as she showed me to table sixteen, where I was quickly greeted by my bartender from last week. I ordered the gin and elderflower. Once it was placed before me, I warned him, “I’m gonna knock the bottom outta this’n, and you’re gonna bring me another’n.”
I delivered my half of the promise, and when he came back by, he said, “I looked and you had just took a sip, and I looked again and it was half gone!”
“I told you I wasn’t messin’ around. I ain’t kiddin’.”
“I can see that.” And he had another one delivered.
When he asked if I wanted a third, of course I did, but my eyebrows weren’t acting right, so I decided I better get the trout on the way, too.
I love making my dreams come true. The last time I had done something this rash and outwardly selfish on a holiday was Thanksgiving 2019, when I took myself over to The Boathouse on Isle of Palms and had lobster and steak and sweet tater casserole at the bar with the locals. We sat with bare feet dangling off barstools and passed homemade liquor around and talked about how crazy our families and exes were. I loved it.
I stole a glance at the bar. Most people, surprisingly, were coupled up, as was the rest of the restaurant. There was a table of four guys who kept looking my way like I was an aquarium exhibit. Maybe I was and didn’t know it. I basked in my knowledge that I was happier than 9/10s of the people in the dining room. Most were on their phones. Several had children in tow. A few just looked patently miserable. I was the only mermaid, and the only single diner.
I sipped my third drink and smiled. If anybody asked, I was a travel blog writer on a mission. Nobody asked, but that’s still what I was, instead of a single girl with a penchant for fish and flaming custard.
The sweet honey kept trying to bring me cocktail #4, but I knew I had overindulged as it was, so I sipped my coke and scraped my bowl and watched as the night wore on.
I had the sweetest guy waiting for me at home. He wasn’t even mad I didn’t bring him a to-go order or flowers or bling bling. He simply wagged his tail in a circle and gave me a very wet kiss ❤️
I sure hope y’all have someone who loves you half as much as mine does. I hope you got flowers, candy, and jewelry, if that’s what you wanted. I hope you know what love is really all about. Love doesn’t always say “I love you”. Usually, love asks if you if you made it home okay, and if you had a good day, and how you slept. Love will check on you through the day and wish you luck in your endeavors. Love is interested in you and your activities. Love wishes you the best, all day, every day. Love is protection and security and awareness. Love is forehead kisses and teasing and holding hands when nobody’s looking. Love looks out for you. As first Corinthians tells us, it does not boast. I know you want to sing from the rooftops when you’re loved, but another loved us first, and loves us best. Furthermore, love yourself. ❤️
Valentines. Still a racket. But I sure am glad I got my favorite dessert today.
Love from Appalachia,
~Amy
Postscript: I said in a text yesterday to my friend Stacy and I meant to include it but I forgot and now I don’t see a good place to work it in: it’s a waste of money and shallow and thoughtless. Love me the other Wednesdays, the other 364 days a year. Love me when I’ve had a shitty Monday or I’m sitting in traffic mad. Love me when I’m unloveable, not when the calendar tells you to. Love me with effort.
