4:25. That’s what time I woke up. I know, because I rolled over and looked at the clock. According to the much-dimmed white numbers, I was up at 4:25. No reason, I just take spells of not being able to rest. And of course, I was pretty wound up from all the aggravation from the previous day. So when you wake up at 4:25, and you see what time it is, and your brain starts processing how long till your alarm goes off, and if you have to teetee, and what that dream was about, and what caused you to dream such craziness…and then real life comes raging at you and that’s when there’s no turning back. And you’re on a loop of trying to fall asleep and worrying about whatever. It’s a vicious cycle that gets you nothing besides bone tired at 7 of the evening when you’re standing at the stove trying not to burn salmon patties.
I’ve noticed on social media, when people have nothing else to say, they’ll post about whatever everybody else is posting about, be it news, sports, celebrities, or politics. Celebrity deaths are especially popular topics. I think the last time I said anything about a celebrity dying was when Michael Jackson left us. Y’all know I’m a big fan of the sitcom Friends but I didn’t know Matthew Perry personally. I didn’t have much to contribute. Would I miss him? Well, no, not really. I’m not a TV watcher, and I wouldn’t say I’m a big movie goer, apart from the summer of 2022 when I watched Top Gun eleventy million times. So I just don’t feel the need to remark on every celebrity passing. We all know they’re gone. I like country music just fine, but what good does it do me to tell y’all one of the more popular musicians is gone? You’ll see it for yourself elsewhere.
What I’m getting at is more people seem more distraught about Toby Keith passing away from a long illness with cancer than they are with an officer being killed in the line of duty in a neighboring county last night. Seven point four miles from me, to be exact. I’m not distraught, I’m livid. This thug should have been locked up eons ago. But there’s no room, the officials will say. You know what? The problem would work itself out if you would quit dosing the addicts with Narcan every time you turn around. What does that stuff cost, by the way? More importantly, who’s paying for it?!?
Good thing this is an election year. We all talk about cleaning house. I think it’s time to. See where people stand. You’ll have to do some digging, but it’s best to make an educated decision. And then you can back it up with reason. I talked with a lady today who’s been heavily involved with local politics for decades. She asked me if I had committed to a candidate for school board yet. I told her no, not exactly, but I knew who I wanted to vote for unless convinced otherwise. I gave her my reasoning. I was glad to have reasons, and a fairly strong conviction about it. I was doubly glad to hear she was working on behalf of my choice, too.
More on that next week, after early voting kicks off.
It’s absolutely terrible about Officer McCowan and his partner. The double felon shooter POS thug trash is still at large. I’m hoping that the last judges who turned him loose are feeling the weight of their decision on their shoulders. This is a man who should still be in jail. Who should have no rights. A repeat offender has no place in society.
If a criminal has no problem taking out two officers and fleeing the scene, they’ll have no problem not letting you stand in the way of what they want. Desperation is an ugly beast. Y’all be aware. And get your guns out. I’m glad I have Chester. I’m thankful for my firearms and my ability to use them with accuracy. And I’m always appreciative of the knowledge I was taught in how to defend and protect, not cower and plead.
Lock up tight, y’all. Due to the cost of brass and powder, warning shots will not be fired.
It was a dark and stormy night….and I had been up since 4:25.
Love from Appalachia armed and potentially dangerous,
~Amy
I just knew today was gonna be a good day. I woke up early, even before my alarm! Not that my alarm going off is a terrible thing. Nowadays instead of rudely blaring “classic” rock (primarily rude because some of the music of my high school years is apparently now considered classic. Pffft) it very gradually eases me into consciousness with a sweet little melodic serenade. Anyway, no need to expound on how I wasn’t awoken. But I got up, got my Wordle worked in TWO guesses (!!!!), had a very pleasant early morning phone call (those words don’t even sound like they go together, do they?), viewed a majestic sunrise, and had a perfectly pleasant commute to work, where I cracked an egg to scramble and it had two yolks!! I was amazed. And it was a carton store bought eggs, to beat all. I don’t know how it even made it to the carton. It was considerably bigger than all its roommates, oddly so. I had been saving it to last. And I was not disappointed. I felt like this was setting the precedent for a great day. I felt lucky.
And it was so short lived.
First thing that happened was the new prospective renters came by. Well they must have signed the deal on the spot, because they stayed all day, shrieking and carrying on like eighth grade girls. And honestly, they didn’t appear much older. I would be excited about my first office too, but I would also be aware of the fierce redhead down the hall who is attempting to put together a financial report to send to the state.
I just shut my door and grumbled like the grouchy old woman I am.
The shrieking continued well into the afternoon, as well as a parade of Hispanic people with children, inexplicable photography equipment, and painting supplies. Not like, art painting. Like, wall painting. But he only toted one roller, one tray, one drop cloth, and I saw zero paint buckets. I also didn’t appreciate the tromping through my office when I had a producer there. But I guess the message was clear when I shut and locked my hallway access. You’d think my hairy eyeball would have done the trick but twenty-year-olds high on responsibility are apparently oblivious to the finer nuances of “find a new way of coming and going”.
Hopefully they will shape up or ship out. And parking was supposed to be a non-issue, anyway. They told the landlord they would be parking at the church. I understand that it was move in day, but I saw absolutely no moving of any furniture or otherwise. More on that momentarily.
It took me three hours to listen to a 42 minute webinar that I missed yesterday. But I did pause it to call the people for the state banking system to set up an online account. It was no problem, and I got right in, but now when I log in it tells me happily that I have successfully logged out. With no menu to log back in.
Sigh. I’m gonna try it again tomorrow, when I hopefully have more patience and maybe it will reset.
I had board tonight and I typically leave the agendas for the last thing to print for the packets, because I tend to add to it as the day goes on and I think of stuff I need to tell them. And that saves trees, because I’m not printing and throwing out as I add.
Well, I go to print them this afternoon and guess what? The printer laid down on me. Of course it did. It happened yesterday, too, with a simple enough fix of powering off, then back on. Tried it today, no dice. I gave it a few minutes, held my mouth right, and tried it again. Nah. So I unplugged it and uttered a little prayer. Nope, nothin’.
I admitted defeat and messaged our IT guy. I was obviously not the first one having issues today because he said a wordy-dird about Chicago and took control of my computer.
Three test pages, one update and restart, and fifty minutes later, I was back in business with freshly printed agendas in hand. Matt T., you’re a genius.
By this point, my DC has arrived and we’re anticipating the rest of the guys shortly. And here comes one of the new tenants. I can’t keep track of when they’re there or not, as their cars have been moved about two dozen times by now and I’d been hearing them when no cars were in the lot. It’s all very strange and disruptive. I am fixing to have two more vehicles in our lot, which only has spaces for six total. And there’s already six taken. I go out the door to issue a warning, “Hey,” I call. She looks at me. “You’ll probably be parked in if you park here. I’ve got two more coming.” “Oh, you’ve got more coming?”
Was I not clear? I blink. “Yes. You can park across the street or in their lot.” I point to our neighboring business, as they cleared out at five.
She nods, assenting. I think this is solved, and go back to pouring coffee and divvying up cookie cake.
We have our meeting, everything goes fine, but imagine my surprise when my DC learns that he’s blocked in.
That’s right, by the girl I told to park in the other lot.
I immediately and thoroughly began to melt down by cussing one complete blue streak. How can people be so patently STUPID? I had to eat another bite of cookie cake to regain control.
So anyway. That’s what happened to me today. I came home and cut up my strawberries before they went bad and they were so very delicious from where they have ripened perfectly on my counter. I could have eaten every last one. But I refrained.
Thank God tomorrow’s Friday. Thank God for dogs that listen better than people. Thank God I have doors that shut and lock. Thank God for friends who understand and whose mere presence ground you. Thank God for DC’s who care more about their farmers than their hair 😉
Thank God for my warm bed and a smidgen of self restraint. It’s probably just barely enough to keep me out of jail, but I reckon that’s enough.
Judgmental and irritated in Appalachia,
~Amy
P.s. here’s my Wordle. I didn’t want to put it at the top in case somebody hadn’t worked it yet. Don’t cheat!! And I sincerely hope this isn’t cropped upon posting.
You may think you never get calls anymore; that everyone knows to text. I’m one of those people who only answer for like, five people. And if pressed about letting them ring off, I would be like, “nah, it’s spam, it’s a creditor hunting the man I’ve been divorced from for five years, it’s somebody wanting something. I ain’t answerin’.”
Well, the exception(s) to my I-Only-Answer-Five-People rule was exercised tonight. First, I got two calls back to back from a number not stored in my phone. I just KNEW somebody was dead. “Mrs. Johnson?” Came the pert American voice when I answered on second round. Me: “This is Amy, yes.” “Your table is ready.” Me: “Pardon?” Because it was kinda loud. Pert girl: “We’ve got your table ready. At Blackhorse?” Me: “Oh, I’m so sorry! We’re at the bar!” I tell her, leaning around to peer at the hostess stand. I totally forgot to update them when I basically stalked a couple as they left the bar, like a hyena after whatever prey it is hyenas prefer. Oops. Yeah, they’d texted, too. I never give their hostesses much credit, but obviously they’ve got it more together than me.
The second time, it was the mother of my oldest childhood friend. I talk to her maybe once a year. This definitely warranted answering. And of course I couldn’t hear her, either, so I stepped outside. “Where are you?” She asked after we’d exchanged niceties. “Blackhorse in Maryville,” I answer. “Is that a bar?” Me, instantly stammering, “well, it’s a restaurant…it has a bar…yes, I’m at the bar,” I admit. You can’t lie to your childhood friend’s mother. She’ll see straight through you. Best just to own up. Here I am, 44 years old, and blushing with the truth.
Anyway. I was out with my good friend Kay, and we determined we hadn’t seen each other before Christmas. It’s been a whirlwind, between the snow event and Christmas parties and visitors and she’s been traveling for work. In fact, she’s been so busy, that when it came time to pay, it was discovered that her debit card expired last month. And when our very polite bartender pointed this out, and she whipped out another one, it was revealed that it, too, expired last month as well. At this point, she’s slightly flustered. I’m assuring the waitstaff she’s good for it, and ready to take care of it myself if she can’t come up with a currency. The guys next to us knew her from the Arab barn where she had a horse in training recently and they tell the bartender, “Hey, if she can’t pay, I happen to know she’s got a real nice horse,” which causes Kay to squawk, and I’m about to fall off my stool laughing. “Three drinks and a flatbread and we’re selling Miss Red Dress at the bar!” I hooted. Good times. Then she nearly worries herself to death wondering where the correspondence from the bank could be. Well, turns out she hasn’t opened her mail since early December, so chances are it’s with all that. “I hate it when that happens,” Kay laments. “They need to warn me!” I just shake my head and laugh. Kay is a flake. Period. End of story. And I love her dearly. I told her just tonight I’d rather go out with her than anybody. Sorry, Lisa! It’s true, though. She goes, “well, I’ve always got a story!” That’s a fact. Tonight I got to hear about her adventure at the Philadelphia airport rental car garage. I won’t get into it, but never underestimate the power of southern manners and the ability to laugh at yourself.
The question was raised yesterday about your favorite person. Is your favorite person the person you’re closest to? The person who knows the most about you? My answer was you’re obviously going to care very much about whoever you’re closest to, but no, they don’t have to be your favorite. And your favorite can have certain degrees, too. Like, favorite person to go dinner with/ favorite person to work with/ favorite person to sit in the shade with and talk to, etc. Your favorite may be your mentor, or someone you look up to, or someone who is forever coming to your rescue. I don’t know. My favorite used to be my Uncle Dale. I valued his advice. He was pretty much the smartest person I knew…if you didn’t believe that, just ask him. He was fun, and we could talk about pretty much whatever and he didn’t usually make me feel stupid. You know, after I got grown. He engaged in storytelling and loved to pass on any tidbits of wisdom, solicited or not. More often than not, unsolicited. My favorite now tells me stories, too, from many years ago to just this morning. I think I’m partial to storytellers. I like people who make me feel safe and protected, no matter what. My favorites always make me laugh. My favorites are not stupid, nor are they boastful. My favorites love dogs. Who’s your favorite? How come?
I’m glad I’ve got good friends and we know how to have a good time. I’m thankful to have fun, safe places to go with good food. I’m glad to have a good dog and a good job. It’s a good life. Lord, don’t let me screw it up.
Love from Appalachia,
~Amy
Something different for today. I present to you the ever popular, much anticipated…
Chester’s Chronicle. Year Three, Three Months, and Seven Days
Hello, my friends. I know it’s been awhile but you know the redhead has been up to her antics and I, I have been up to my own.
Except I haven’t. I have been a very good boy. How do I know? It’s like you think I’m fibbing! I’m positively aghast you would think I would stray from anything other than complete honesty! Dogs don’t have it in them to lie! The expression “lie like a dog” means because we’re all the time lounging around unless there are intruders faces to eat off.
Back to the conversation at hand: I know I’m a very good boy because Princess Glitterpants tells me so. And I believe her. After all, there’s no one around brave enough to contest her.
I’ve been enjoying some days outside. It’s a little chilly of the mornings, but I have my very shiny (and thick!) fur coat. PGP says with all the hair she sucks up I should look mangy, but I don’t. I’m quite dapper, if I do say so myself. And I do. But anyway, the mornings aren’t cold long, so I won’t get frost toes. I spend much of the time patrolling, and once I have secured the perimeter, I nap in the sun. It feels oh so nice. The chickens come visit, but they keep their distance from me. Don’t tell, but the only time I give chase is when PGP gets home. That can be our little secret. I do like dozing on the couch, but this way I can keep a better eye on things. And I can get my couch time in of the evening. It’s the best of both worlds. I don’t have a doggie door to come and go at will because if I can fit through it, so can an average sized man. I am not a teacup variety bulldog. I am full figured and leggy. And toothy, before you go getting any ideas. And finicky about treats, as of late. PGP says she doesn’t allow high maintenance people in her life, so I better be getting my act together. I don’t think she’d wanna eat a sweet tater without chicken, either, so I don’t know what the big deal is.
She was late getting home tonight. The sun had already went to bed and I could feel the frost toes taking hold. But then there she was! The rocket appeared like a beacon, and I raced into the brush after some made-up intruder. I think I make a pretty good actor. PGP just snorted. She must need to sneeze. She does that sometimes. Anyway, she tells me the cause for delay was library board, and a few of you were commending her on her stick-to-it-iveness about writing every day, I see her here, struggling and bellyaching. But normally once she starts she knocks it right out, so don’t let her lie to you. She’s weary of journaling about her days, so it appears I’m now the muse. And I’m okay with that. As long as I don’t have to tell about anything embarrassing, like when I fell off the ottoman the other day.
Oops.
Well, I am the child of the biggest klutz in three counties, so I suppose it’s expected.
I hope y’all are having as great a year as me! I hear my old stomping grounds are getting some attention. I sure hope they can raise a bunch of money. They help so many animals with so little. Imagine what they could do with a bunch more! My little cell was hardly big enough for me to turn around in, but at least it was out of the weather. And I got two square meals a day and all the clean water I could drink. It was a sort of prison, after my months of roaming, but what good is freedom if you’re so hungry you can’t enjoy it? Thank God & PGP and all the people who got me to where I am today. I may be rotten, but my belly doesn’t hurt and my legs aren’t tired and I ain’t got no itchy bugs and my velvet ears aren’t cold. (She made that part up. I would never call attention to my ears. I’m very self conscious about them).
All this to say things are very well here, and if you don’t have a dog in your life I strongly encourage you to get one. Not all have as big a personality (or mouth) as big as me, so be particular when hunting your friend. Please search shelters! They have all kinds of companions. Even turtles, sometimes! But dogs are obviously more fun. Lots of shelters offer transport services, but I think it’d be best to meet your new friend in person first. You know, sometimes there are personality conflicts. PGP interviewed several doggos before she landed on me. I think we’re a match made in Heaven, if I do say so myself. And I do. ❤️
Love from Free Range Chester 🐾🦴
I have inadvertently celebrated Valentines Day today. I know, I’m confused, too. I assure you it’s through no fault of my own. The sweet girl at the bank gave me a cute little heart sticker on my deposit slip! Who does that? It very nearly made my day! I mean, unless you’re a kid or a dog, the bank treats dry up around the time you get a zit. So I was very proud of my sticker.
The next treachery was at the grocery store. I can’t pass up the bakery without seeing what delectable cakes they’re peddling. Today my downfall was the cookie cake. But you tell me: would you have been able to pass it up? The dang thing was asking for me!!
Something was said to me today at the grocery store and I’m really trying hard not to dwell on it.
So this lady ahead of me in line was leaving and telling everybody bye. You could just tell she was the real sweet type. I smiled at the lady bagging my groceries and remarked that it was nice to have regulars. I remember my Grandmother would often wait for a specific cashier. Of course in those days, grocery employees were union and it was a career job, not just something to land on waiting for your next gig.
The woman agreed with me and y’all know how bashful I am, I told her I once had my share of regulars, that I worked at the Co-op for 13 years, and most of the good ‘uns I waited on at least once a week. “You see their kids grow up, their dog die, ya know?” She nodded agreement. “So, did you retire from there…or quit??”
I stood there paralyzed. RETIRE?!?! HOW OLD DO I LOOK???!!? Then I thought maybe she misheard me, maybe she thought I said thirty and not thirteen. But still. Sheesh.
I’m still not sure what to make of that. She said she’d been a nurse at UT and couldn’t hack it after she blessed a fellow nurse after she sneezed and the woman looked at her like she could run her over with a truck. And they didn’t like being told “good morning”, either. Yeah, I’d be back with the sweet grannies at the grocery store, too.
Speaking of Co-op, this spring weather has sent me reeling back in time, as it often does. Last night I dreamed I was back on the counter and this woman called twice within four hours wanting to know if we had our bean seeds out yet.
This is the kind of thing we dealt with. I guarantee they got calls on mater plants today. And if they had any, I bet they sold some. I always said it was fine, I’d sell them to you three times by the time it was time to set them out 😁
Sometimes I miss being in the mix of things and seeing everybody. Most of the time I’m glad I’m not under constant pressure and being harangued by every Tom, Dick, and Harry about herbicides, where Gary is, can we bring tile to Wears Valley before noon, and did the special Orchardgrass blend come in. Oh, and Tuletta yelling at me about the dust on my fly mask boxes.
Ah, the good ol’ days.
I know I’m not fooling y’all, I do miss being needed. But my brain would be so tired from switching gears all day. I remember once when I was new I was working the back counter. This guy walked up and asked if we had any cross ties. I was smack in the middle of a Weaver order, my mind immersed in all things horse, and I led him over to the adjustable nylon ones with quick release snaps. He’s looking at me a little askance, so I tell him that at my house I just use chains, and we can cut it to length and modify with any hardware he chose.
Then he tells me he’s looking for landscaping cross ties. You know, the kind from the railroad tracks that people use as flowerbed borders. People used to ask us what grade ours were. Instead of making something up, I’d tell them to just go look. I’ve never understood buying something sight unseen, anyway. Gary would tell them, “Well, if they were any count, the railroad would still be usin’ ‘em.” Fair enough.
And we won’t talk about being in the heat of spring, asshole deep in alligators, selling fertilizer and amendments by the ton and herbicides by the pallet. When this guy walks up and asks if we sell deck stain. In my mind, it automatically corrected to Dextane, a chemical I wasn’t familiar with, but that didn’t necessarily mean squat. I think I first told him to check automotive, because it definitely sounded like an automotive product. Like hydraulic fluid. He looks at me quizzically and I cocked my head and ask, “What’s it used for?”
I’m sure he felt like he was dealing with an absolute Rhodes scholar when he said, “to protect a wood deck from rotting.”
And that’s when it dawned on me. Not Dextane. Deck stain. 🤦🏼♀️
But I can’t fault the Co-op. For without them, I probably wouldn’t know you. And without you, I wouldn’t be me. I’m glad I’m where I am, but the only reason I’m here is because of thirteen years spent there.
Thirteen that aged me like thirty, it appears.
Love and sweethearts from Appalachia,
~Amy
I have spent part of my day deleting photos in my phone. I’ve definitely been freewheeling when it comes to pictures. With at least 15%, I’ve thought to myself, “Self? Why did you think this was important? So important to take a picture of it, to begin with, and then store it for ten years?” My cloud started in 2014. I suppose the ones prior to then are gone forever. I’m not very sad about it. Cellphone picture quality was definitely lacking back in those days. Plus, it was occasionally difficult coming across a few of those captured memories. I don’t need to go back further.
And what if we had to take these pictures to be developed? What a waste. I had screenshots of paid bills, houses on Instagram, recipes. Lord, at the recipes. And books! I didn’t delete those, I need to check them on my Goodreads account and make sure I’ve got them marked as ‘to-read’. Not that I’ll have time, of course. I’ll die before I get the ones read I’ve already got.
But my google storage is full. And don’t get to talking crazy, saying I could delete the videos of my dog. I need those. So I’m gonna have to keep whittling after this. I bought one of those external storage devices a couple of years ago, but it doesn’t pull everything for some reason. And I might need to access the pictures on my phone, not my laptop. So it’s a process. A very slow, time consuming process. Like everything else.
In other words, I have wasted this whole entire day.
And to salvage it now, by imparting some lovely words, torn from my very gut, is not going to happen. All I can do is think about the things I have to get done this week. Ugh. Whyyyyy did I put off my oil change? Time to start thinking about taxes. Of course I’ll probably wait on those till the rush dies down. Why am I such a procrastinator? I have got to get by the grocery store. I have both boards this week. Double ugh. Not that they’re awful, it’s just something else. When I could be reading my book. Outside. Because it’s supposed to be gorgeous all week.
I was thinking about the grocery store today. They’ve got us ringing up and bagging our own groceries. I guess this is how the pumping your own gas started. But the difference is, they don’t offer a discount for ringing up yourself. And it makes me positively rabid. Especially when I have $200 worth and no registers are open. I mean, registers with cashiers. I have a friend who has started ringing up produce for the cheapest one available. She calls it her employee discount. I don’t think my conscience would let me, but honestly, I get it. Of course, that’s just more shrinkage and costing us all. Maybe I’m just mad I didn’t think of it myself.
A poem now.
One day
She won’t answer
One day
She won’t care
One day
The ears will be deaf
And you’ll be alone
With your thoughts
And complaints
And a whole list of things to share
How long will it take you to realize
She’s not at your beck and call
That time is more valuable than money
And you think there’s plenty to spare
Just because you don’t ask
What’s happening
And it isn’t volunteered
Squeezed in between your news
Doesn’t mean nothing is
And sometimes she wants more effort
Than just an open ended question
And those are few and far between anyway
After all
You were hurt
Not to know
Before everybody else
But there’s rarely time
When you’re rushing about
With your own life
Prioritize
What you think is steadfast
Because nothing is
No matter what
He looks for himself there
And he shouldn’t find it
Because he calls
He texts
He visits
He asks
He apologizes
It is not about him
It is not a lesson for him
Rest easy
And grin
You’re here instead
We all want attention, and we want it worst from the people we love best. Attention from strangers means very little. Just like dogs. They want attention from their masters, everybody else is just frills. Any companion desires attention. Are you giving the people you love in your life enough? If you asked them, would they agree? What is your love language? Does it come naturally to you or do you have to work at it? Do you have a different way of showing your love to your family than you do your best friend? Do you show your spouse in various ways but your mother only one? I’m genuinely curious. My bestie’s one and only is gifts, no matter who. Mine is quality time, because I treasure it so. You can see where this is a problem between Lisa and I. I am also an Acts Of Service person, probably because this is also a gift of time. I don’t want touched except from people I’m dating 🤣 so that’s a safe one. If you’re showing me through quality time and acts of service, I don’t necessarily need the words of affirmation. I mean yes, it’s nice, I want to hear you love me, but I’d rather you show me than tell me.
So let’s see, I’ve solved some world problems tonight, looks like. The nonexistent cloud that is supposedly full, the downfall of service in grocery stores, and how to show me love. Ah well. It’s almost Generated Love Day so maybe it’ll help you there. I loathe and detest Valentines Day. Fat Tuesday is the day before, so that’ll be something to look forward to on the meantime.
Love from Appalachia (hey, this can be counted as quality time AND words of affirmation!),
~Amy
Far easier to write a spot of poetry
Than to put a favorable spin
On washing clothes dishes and windows
More romantic to write of
The stars
Candlelight
Books in bed
Nothing much has happened to me today
But I did get to see a sunrise
And a sunset
And one happy dog in between
I did talk to a friend for two hours
And wish we were closer together
I did eat some mini Nilla wafers
Outside while the sun warmed me
And I will soon sink into
My library chair
With a library book
I will continue to be thankful
For hot water
And indoor plumbing
And creature comforts
And try not to worry
About the health of those I love
Instead I will trod on my path
And drink more water
As an example
It is still winter
And will be for some time
But I am resting
And I am content
In my cocoon of worn furniture and floors
I can wonder what it’s like
To be someone else
To be somewhere else
Without wanting to
I can contemplate what may happen
Or I can wait and see
Go blindly forward
With no expectations
Because that often ends in disappointment
I like to think
If I had a helicopter
Things would be easier
But I think
I’d have trouble with maintenance
And waiting on it to warm up
Before I could fly away
So I better stay here on the ground
With my dreams
And just be glad I was given roots
Instead of feathers
Because it’s better not to have any quit
Than to be taken for a whirl
On a fleeting breeze
I may not be able to do sums in my head
Or stitch a button on a shirt
Or change a tire
But I can write you a melancholy poem
That does not rhyme
And make you wish
The sun would come back out
Another pretty perfect day in the books. I took the day off #1. Because I wanted to, and #2, because I had a hair appointment right in the middle of the day. Hair appointments in the middle of the day are either dang inconvenient or a perfect excuse, depending on how you wanna look at it. Today it was a perfect excuse.
It was a brilliantly beautiful day, the sun giving it its all. And about time! February is really showing January how it’s done. And today is Whistlepig Day. I have it on good authority that spring will be arriving shortly, and I don’t think anybody’s mad about that. I’ll tell ya somethin’ else I ain’t mad about, and that’s these white chocolate craisin cookies Angela gave me last night. The only problem is she didn’t give me a wheelbarrow load. Which wouldn’t be good for my sugar but ahhh…I’ll worry about that later. I didn’t tell y’all about them last night because I was afraid y’all are hoodlums and would break in on me and eat them. But that worry is unfounded now, because you’d have to break into my stomach to get them currently 😁
So I lolled about this morning, doing Wordle in bed (4), ate my leftover ribs, and got the salon only four minutes late. I know, I’m terrible. I’m usually right on time. There was a lady there that I could tell right away didn’t like me, but that’s ok. I knew right away I didn’t like her, either. And really, the end result is the same: I’m gonna get to visit with my good friend and my hair is gonna look great when I leave. That’s really all I’m looking for.
After leaving the salon, I stopped for fuel, then I went to the car wash. I haven’t washed Mags since I got the freebie at the fancy one. Like I said, today was a gorgeous day and nearly sixty degrees. Many people were there, capitalizing on it. I vacuumed all the detritus out and then got to scrubbin’. What a chore. But I didn’t mind. I just hated my hair was all fixed and here I was, doing labor with glamour hair. I was gonna go get my oil changed today but then remembered it’s Friday (and a beautiful day, did I mention?) so I decided it could wait a few more days. That might be a good weekday activity. I really got Maggie clean. I figured I better capitalize while the weather was so nice. I need to get her detailed before summer.
Anyway, after all that intensive work, I cracked open a nice beer and enjoyed it on my porch. It was such a perfect stolen day ❤️
I promise someday these will be more than a journal entry. But today is not the day. I’m so sleepy. Gotta go check out the stars before hitting the hay, though. Last night they were magnificent.
Love from Appalachia,
~Amy
Today was a good day.
It’s been awhile since I’ve been able to write about a wholly good day. Not that I ever have much to complain about, but you know how you get in a funk for one reason or another.
It started with a visit from Sam and catching up with him, which was nice. The daily phone calls wear on me, but he hasn’t been calling and I haven’t seen him since our Christmas meeting, so we were due to catch up. He’s expecting another grandbaby any day. He asked after Chester, as always, and I showed him the picture I snapped this morning while I was curled up next to him having my coffee.
The handymen from Grainger County were there this morning spraying insulation. They are always so friendly. I wish I had them on retainer for my house. It had already warmed up substantially by the time they were packing up their tools to go. Made me think I should definitely look into this for my house. Add that to the list. After tires and gradework.
I’d had my coffee this morning but hadn’t ever gotten around to breakfast, so I ate my leftover Arby’s. If I had known what lay ahead, I would have eaten a lot more.
A field visit to my favorite person in the whole wide world’s farm was scheduled for one o’clock so I invited myself, pulled my muck boots on, stuck a sign on the door, and got in the truck, armed with only my sunglasses and chapstick. I should have at least brought a water and tangerine for sustenance. Rookie mistake.
We hiked over hill and dale, knobs and crests, hollers and creeks. It was a beautiful day to be outside. Of course, my head was in the sky and not on cross fencing and watering facilities. I saw a woodpecker, two cats, and a bunch of cows.
The soundtrack of my day was spring frogs, also commonly called “peepers” around here. The smell of warming mud, clean mud, still clings to me, as sure as the cockleburs that tried to hitch a ride. I so enjoyed seeing the babies scamper, tails flaring up, after their mommas, who weren’t sure about this group of strangers tromping across their pasture.
Did I already say how nice it was to be out in the country, just enjoying the sunshine? The office is great, but sometimes you need a day of grounding, to see firsthand conservation at work and watch people who really care about the land come up with a plan to work with the landowner in a way that benefits everyone. No farms, no food. Y’all don’t forget.
After touring three locations that was uphill 80% of the time 🤣 I was ready to get to my evening plans: a fundraiser for the Kodak Branch Library at TEXAS ROADHOUSE. Oh yeah. I was so excited. I just knew I could eat at least three rolls.
I could not.
Well, I could have, but then I couldn’t have eaten a half rack of ribs. Oh, don’t fret, my pet. I ordered the full rack, knowing I couldn’t eat them all. See, I’m a meal planner. While eating one meal, I plan for the next 😁 I was cramming a roll in my mouth while informing Fish that I was “so hungry.” The irony was not lost on him, and he didn’t miss an opportunity to point out my ludicrousness. I didn’t even care. I cannot begin to fathom being one of those girls with enough self control to merely pick at a grilled chicken salad or something. Or one who’s self conscious about eating in front of others. If anybody had gotten between me and these, they’d be missin’ a digit. They’d be pulling back a bloody nub, as my uncle was fond of saying. Bashful about food, I ain’t. From the farm to the table, exemplified.
So that brings me here to the now, pecking away about my day and improved state of mind, occasionally rubbing velvet ears and sipping water from my favorite glass.
Welcome February! One month closer to the rest of our lives. What will March bring? Y’all got big plans?
Love from Appalachia,
~Amy
The end of January, hallelujah.
It’s skunk season and every night about this time Chester is dying to go outside. I know exactly what he’s after; does he think I’m ignorant? He lays at the door and does big deep sniffs and growls and barks his Alert II bark, which is, “There’s something out here, friend or foe, I don’t know, let me out immediately.” And I don’t and he huffs and sulls up on the couch.
I don’t like drawing people out. I’m not going to play games about if you’re mad at me and don’t call, I will notice, but I won’t care. If you’re mad enough to do that, man up and call and tell me why you’re miffed at me and give me an opportunity to apologize. If not, it’s likely that I don’t know that I’ve angered you. Like most people, I’m happy-go-lucky in my own little dimension. If I did it on purpose, well, may the Lord be with you.
I wanted to write about something serious and thought provoking tonight but I’m sort of skittish about wading into those dark waters. I just know I’d be off down the rabbit hole and probably neck deep before I knew it and too late to turn back because I’d be having all the right words and prose and it would be too good to erase and I’d have everybody’s business told before it was all over. And we can’t have that.
I got to see a friend from dispatch days today! She looks great, hasn’t aged, and her makeup was on point. I sat there jealous of her eyeliner the whole entire time.
Where do the evenings go? They used to stretch on for eternity. Now it’s like I come in, change clothes, feed Chess, talk to a friend or two on the phone, and it’s past time for me to be eating dinner. And I still have to write this and I typically like to shower at night so I’m not rushing of the morning. And you know I’m behind on my reading. But there are just not enough hours in the day anymore! Or maybe I’m requiring more sleep. Idk.
I just opened my KUB bill. Summer definitely has its perks. *trying not to cry* And it’s times like this I am oh so grateful for my small house. I swear I don’t know how people afford to live.
I want to leave you better than you all found me. My poetry sucks, but y’all seem to like my lists so here we go:
- I hope your favorite song comes on the radio in the morning
- I hope your socks are soft and don’t wad up in your shoe
- I hope you get a really exquisite kiss from the one you love best
- I hope you feel the sunshine
- I hope your ink pens write so smoothly you remark on it
- I hope you get Wordle in two
- I hope you receive a sign of better things to come
It may be bland, but it’s kinda like horoscopes, you gotta make it appeal to a wide audience.
My dishes are washed but my face ain’t so I gotta go.
Love from Appalachia,
~Amy
