I’m stuck between wanting to do All the Things and None of the Things. Like, I feel a very strong urge to declutter, but then when it comes down to throwing things out, I feel the familiar, “Well, you might use it someday….remember that time you needed a whatsit for the whosit?” You know, that happens bi-annually or so. Better hold onto it.

But I am finding it a lot easier to let go of objects that may have a less than stellar association. Not that they have a bad memory attached, just that where the thing originated from is someplace I don’t care to remember. Anyway….

I finally broke out my air fryer today. It’s truly wondrous. I love it a lot. I can’t believe I’ve been heating up my whole oven for one measly piece of fish. Ridiculous. And washing two pots and a lid for steamed vegetables. I only use my microwave for baked taters and the occasional reheating of food. I typically use my secondhand (from Lisa) little red toaster oven, but funnily enough, it took forever to toast bread. And my toaster (secondhand from Lorie) lives at work. Anyway, my thoughtful aunt gave me the air fryer for Christmas and I was marginally intimidated —ok, that’s a lie. I was lazy— about learning a new gadget so it’s been residing in its box since Christmas Eve. No time like the present! It’s super cute, almost podlike, and it sounds like a rocket when it’s cooking. Chester hates it, as he hates most electronic devices, and had a pretty vicious, albeit entertaining, barking spell when I fired it up. It has a little running light on the screen that reminds me of Night Rider. When I was about ten, I owned sunglasses that did that. They were supercool. Well, anyway, I made a baked tater right off, then cooked my mahi and frozen vegetables at once. I’ve only remembered to use the convection setting on my oven a few times, so I wasn’t completely sure I was gonna love this thing. But lemme tell you. I’m THRILLED. I’m also very excited at the prospect of it defrosting food. I never trusted the microwave to do that, no sir. I had a customer at Co-op tell me years ago about a science experiment his daughter did with three bean seeds. All three bean seeds were planted in styrofoam cups with the same medium. They were all placed on a windowsill, ensuring the same light and temperature. They were all watered with the same amount of water at the same time every day or every other day, or whatever the plan was. Here’s the rub: bean seed #1 was watered with tap water at room temperature. Bean seed #2 was watered with tap water that had been brought to a boil in a pot on the stove, then allowed to cool back down to room temperature. Bean seed #3 was watered with water that had been heated in the microwave then brought back down to room temperature. Bean seeds #1 and #2 grew at the same rate, while bean seed #3 was stunted and pale. So you think on that.

So, if anybody is keeping track, my three favorite appliances are: my refrigerator, because it’s big and stainless and keeps my Mountain Dews very cold and is where all the good stuff originates, without it we could have next to nothing, then my KitchenAid mixer, because it lets me move on to the next task at hand while it works away without supervision and does a lot of the hard labor (like sausage ball mixing), and now the air fryer, because it’s efficient and fast. So fast, in fact, it has officially earned the nickname Flash. I wanted to call it Lightnin’, but that reminds me of my sweet beetlebug, and I didn’t want any confusion there.

I don’t think I told y’all about my new friend at the grocery store the other day. She excused herself to walk past me in the foreign foods aisle. (Don’t get excited, I was just getting taco sauce). She said, “This is my third tip, hopefully it’ll turn up this pass.” I didn’t comprehend what she’d said until she was several steps from me, so I didn’t have a reply.

Iran into her again, a few minutes later, a couple of aisles over. I blinked when the realization hit it was the same woman, still empty-handed. I stopped in my tracks. “What is it you’re a-huntin’?” I asked her, point blank.

“Barley!” She practically shouted, eager to have an accomplice. I was defeated.

“Did you try over by the flour?” I suggested.

“Yes, that’s where this one kid sent me.” (She was probably early seventies, so I figured the “kid” in question was probably approaching 30 and on his second wife and mortgage). “I didn’t see it.”

“Hmmm… you know who we need to find is one of those GoCart shoppers; they know where EVERYTHING is.”

“Yes. I know I’ve bought it here before!”

“I think Co-op sells it by the 50# bag….”

She squinted at me.

“Well, sorry I couldn’t help. I just knew I’d be able to save the day!” {me thinking back to the maraschino cherry lady of a few weeks ago}

“It’s ok, honey, thank you for trying.”

I went on my way. Sometimes I like helping people. I wonder if she ever found it. I wonder what she was making. I wonder if it was for eating, or a craft. I wonder if it was on Pinterest. I wonder if it was for her or a friend.

If I was a writer worth my salt, I’d have these answers for you.

If anybody asks, tell them I was a writer. That’s really all I’ve ever wanted to be. Sometimes I feel like one. Sometimes I feel like I’m wasting y’all’s time but I don’t reckon I’m forcing you to read it. And about every day, I have at least one encouraging message in my mailbox ❤️

A word on the snow and then I’ll go. Like the snow should. I woke up to another stinkin’ inch of the white fluff on my porch! I like snow fine, but I like Tennessee snow: that’s the kind that’s here for a day or two then melts. Then you get another one about a month later, and it lasts a couple of days and it’s on its way. This is NOT Michigan, and I am not happy. I have eaten everything in this house except my mini Nilla Wafers and their time is running out because I’m down to six golden Oreos.

I guess I should be thankful I don’t cohabitate. I saw a meme today that said, “this snow better hurry up and melt before everybody is pregnant or divorced” 😁 Funny….‘Cept it ain’t. Historically, this has not been a great day for me. One year, Delta lost my luggage that included five pounds of M&Ms from the Vegas store and my buckaroo Justin ostrich boots. One year, Chickalay gave me lemonade instead of sprite. One year, I fell. Another year I was snowed in.

Come to think of it, today ain’t been so bad. I’m going to bed before I change my mind or something transpires. I still haven’t finished this book. A little less conversation would benefit it greatly.

Better leave a faucet drippin’, y’all. 6 degrees by daybreak.

Love and all things air fried,

~Amy

I want Chili’s egg rolls. I want salad and breadsticks from Olive Garden. I want pizza from Gatlinburg Brewing on 66 and a great big draft beer. I want ribs and a small sirloin from Texas Roadhouse with a loaded sweet tater. I want a cheeseburger and fries from Five Guys. I want a giant slice of cookie cake.

I think that’s it.

Oh, no, I’m not out of food. I’m not even hungry! I merely want what I can’t have. It’s a metaphor for my life. I have consumed the following today: one biscuit with sausage gravy. One biscuit with blackberry jam. Two eggs, medium. One glass of milk. One sausage patty. Lunch was a bowl of hamburger helper with tomatoes. Supper was red beans & rice with andouille sausage, peppers, onions, and two small garlic rolls. One Mountain Dew and a pack of Little Debbie heart cakes. So now that’s something you know about me. Angela was kind enough to bring me a quart of milk. Why not a gallon, you ask? Because Weigels was out of gallons, that’s why. Evidently everybody suddenly started drinking milk for every meal 🙄 the heck of it is, I stood in the aisle yesterday, looking at it. And I came to the decision I didn’t need any milk. Well, lemme tell you, friends and neighbors, I was WRONG. I did need milk, especially if I wanted to have chocolate chip cookies this weekend. I make myself so mad sometimes. I think I have it all together, and then I do something stupid like not buying milk. Or going to the grocery store after all the eggs and meat are picked over.

But this isn’t what I wanted to write about. I’ve been a bit stir crazy today, believe it or not. I think it’s just this weather that’s strangling us in its icy grip. And it kept snowing today. As if the freezing rain of last night wasn’t bad enough. I am so SICK of feeling like I live in Michigan! Melt already!! …Of course then I’ll gripe about the mud.

I wanted to write about horse girls. Now, some would argue that we’re all horse girls, because what little girl didn’t love horses? And while true, some of us got bit and it just innately changed us. I remember one of the first sales calls I ever made at the Co-op was to a Walking Horse barn. We were standing outside a paddock of yearlings. An inquisitive one came up to the fence and I reached to touch it. The young horse shied before I made contact and the farm manager gently reprimanded me by saying, “We don’t handle them much, we like to keep them kinda high-headed.” Well, that was the craziest thing I’d ever heard! How could you halter them or even catch them? But it was a hard habit to break, and I eventually learned to ask before petting any horses, especially in show barns. It’s still difficult for me to even walk past a horse without yearning to touch it. Even if I don’t, I still speak to it. Everybody likes to be acknowledged, even if you don’t want touched. I don’t ride much anymore, but it’s rare for me to turn down an invitation. I used to ride, Lord, how I used to ride. Every day after school until the sun set. I wasn’t scared of anything. My uncle would bring horses over to pasture to keep the grass eat down. Sometimes they were bred mares, sometimes they were not-yet-broke geldings, sometimes just mean ass ponies. I rode them all. He gave me a hundred dollars a head for every one I green broke. There was a summer I got bucked off every. Single. Day. I didn’t care. When you’re young like that (probably 14 or so) you bounce back up and catch the nag. There’s no laying there to see if you’re dead, or in the very least, what’s broke. You just jump back on and hold tight. I loved the horses. I loved just watching them graze and how they communicated with each other, keeping a certain distance between one another and agreeing on when to move to a new spot, when to water, when to stand in the shade and alternate which hind leg to rest. I’d hang out, unobtrusively, with my book, if they were too far along in their pregnancy to ride. I just loved them. I’d brush them, and braid their manes and tails, and pick hooves, and whisper secrets about which boys I liked and who made fun of my teeth that day. And the thing about true love with horses is you can always go back. It’s never too late, and you pick right back up where you left off. It’s wondrous.

Once you’ve been bitten by the horse bug, there’s no turning back to whatever held your interest before. It’s horse EVERYTHING. You don’t care what it is: cleaning tack, picking stalls, stacking hay, scrubbing water troughs. As long as you get to spend time in the company of horses, you’re content. And you go horse crazy. Instead of buying Seventeen magazine, you’re shelling out for Horse Illustrated. Instead of watching MTV spring break footage, you’re tuned into the Grand Prix. You don’t keep up with celebrities, but you can name every Kentucky Derby winner in the last two decades. The posters on your walls aren’t of your favorite bands, there are pictures of Friesians in snow, or foals in wildflowers. You don’t like Barbies, you play exclusively with My Little Ponies before you graduate to Breyer collectibles. You exclusively read books about horses. You get horse themed birthday cakes and cowboy clothes for Christmas. Your senior pictures are made with your horse, or at least your favorite saddle. You save for custom boots and spurs like some girls save for high end makeup and designer jeans. You beg to go to horse shows, local and in the tri-state area. You consider yourself somewhat of an authority on bits. You have a great idea for a set of reins. You pore over catalogs, starring items and making lists.

Or so I’m told that’s how it goes.

And you go to work for the local feed and seed and you grow their equine department and sell a crap ton of horse feed and you’re living vicariously through your customers who ride all disciplines. You go to Bedford Tack and shop like Elizabeth Taylor, tossing items at the employees who trail you, pushing buggies.

And eventually a poor boy will come along, and he’ll think he can steal your heart, but he’ll come to realize he’ll always be second place. And he’ll be the one to help you fix fence or change a tire on the side of the interstate, and hook up the trailer to go get hay. And you’ll love this boy, and hopefully he’ll love horses, because if not, it’ll never work. Even worse if he loves cows. Men who like cattle don’t like horses because they rarely earn their keep, in a cattleman’s eyes. But if he’s smart, and a true gentleman, he’ll allow for horses, because in the long run, they’re less maintenance than a lot of other things women go for.

So I still see these horse crazy girls in my news feed every day. I love you all dearly. Many of you have a husband and children. But we don’t see candid (or staged) photos of them so much as we see your beloved equines. I see your horse’s new blanket, or the buckle you won, or the perfect lead change you’ve been working on. I see your clean tack room and the nameplate hanging off the stall door at the show. I see a sweaty horse tied to a trailer after a long trail ride. I see you sliding open the doors on these frosty cold mornings, flicking on the lights, and your horses nickering good morning to you. And my heart melts again.

Because I got bit when I was five years old.

So don’t tell me how much you love horses. Tell me about The One. Mine was a blood bay Saddlebred. He would walk through fire for me. There will never be another. I get a knot in my throat still to this day thinking about him, and he’s been gone 25 years.

Buy your daughter a horse. It’s cheaper than any other habit she might develop, and it will teach her a plethora of life skills., including true love.

Love from Appalachia with hoof prints on my heart,

~Amy

I hate typewriters.

It was that day again. I promise I haven’t been procrastinating. I was waiting on one last social security number. I finally procured it last Thursday night. Then Friday we decided to have Wizard Of Oz type winds, so I went home to work at midday. I wasn’t about to tote a typewriter home, and I’m not allowed to have personal information away from the office, so I’ve been at the mercy of the weather. I could feel the clock ticking all week. I’ve been feeling it ticking since Christmas anyway, since the secretary in a neighboring county got hers done before she flipped her calendar over. Overachiever 🙄 making me look bad! AND she’s already got her annual reports out. Geez. She’s probably one that keeps her expense report open to add to as she spends, too. Whereas me, I hunt for twenty minutes for a folder I JUST HAD to find it on my desk under some papers after I’ve looked in all likely and unlikely spots.

Going back to work is BRUTAL. But I got a lot accomplished today, AND I achieved grocery shopping as well. It was stupid busy, but when you’re out of tomatoes, you gotta bear down and join the mob. They were out of my preferred chicken, 18-count eggs, and 85/15 ground beef, but I got everything else I went for. (Except, of course, the things I forgot to put on my list). Now, before y’all get too impressed with me, know that I abandoned my goal of buying stamps at the post office. I dropped the 1099s and RUN. I was so busy today I only thought about my dog once, and that was while I was eating Chickalay and saving him the turtleback fries.

It was the most bizarre thing to drive up in elevation today and see less accumulation of snow. It just doesn’t make sense. It was also strange for the reverse to happen on my way home. It’s weird in itself that the snow is still here, period. I really am feeling like I live in Yankeeland. And I don’t care for it. I hate to think what my electric bill is gonna be this month. I’m probably gonna have to sell some bone marrow or platelets or something. I’m too fat and old for Only Fans.

Anyway. Enough about the weather. I got a letter from my insurance today saying my roof is old and they’re dropping some coverage, unless I can provide proof that it has been replaced recently. Not sure what their definition of “recently” is, but now I gotta find the receipt from the summer of 2020 because I don’t think a Facebook post of me informing y’all that I had a whole bunch of shirtless men in my yard at 7 a.m. is gonna cut it. But don’t think I won’t screenshot that to send in the email, too. Maybe it’ll make them laugh.

Replaced the water filter in my fridge today, while we’re on the subject of accomplishments. I always feel like Tim the Toolman Taylor when I do that, even though it requires zero tools. I’m just proud of myself. Next up: conquering the air fryer. I mean, after receipt locating task, that is. Priorities. I walked to the mailbox today, too! I don’t know how long it’s been since I went, but I had a bill in there that was due Tuesday. I’d already paid it, I’m just saying.

If you’re still with me, tell me your favorite book. I bet we’ve talked about it before, but I’m kind of in a slump. And it’s in part due to this stupid game on my phone I’m addicted to , but I also know my last few haven’t been very good at all. So I need recommendations.

Chester is growling in his sleep. Nice to know he protects even in his dreams. I believe it’s time for me to go dream. I hope I get to fly, or at least ride a nice horse. I ate tacos, though, so it’ll probably be some absurd garbage, like I’m working the counter at the Co-op in a green tutu. Oh, wait. That actually happened.

It’s still January.

Just rest. It’s ok, you know. You don’t have to be busy ALL the time. You wonder why your head hurts. That’s why. You don’t know how to just BE.

Love from Appalachia,

~Amy

I could have gotten so much done today. And yesterday. And Monday. But nope, I’m a slacker. There are no excuses. I have laid on my couches and in my library chair, with an 80# dog draped across me. I have cooked, and I have eaten. And I marvel at the people who can’t stay home for more than two days at a time. I don’t understand. When you’re at work, you want to be home. I see your memes, the cabin on the lake, secluded, and how that’s where you want to live and be left alone.

Ummm.

But whatever, most people tend to say one thing and do another. You’d think I’d be accustomed to it by now. I don’t know why I still expect honesty and transparency when people can’t even be honest with themselves. Y’all wonder why I prefer the company of my dog 95% of the time.

I digress.

I’m planning on working tomorrow and going grocery shopping too. I have plenty of food, overall, but I am out of bacon, eggs, tomatoes, butter, and sugar. Staples. I mean, not actual staples, but necessities.

The snow, ahh, the snow. It’s all any of us can talk about. I guess that’s all there is to talk about, what with being stuck at home for three days. And more on the way tomorrow night. Like the old timers say, it’s waiting on the next’n. I tunneled out to my car yesterday, but gave up short of uncovering it. So today I took on that task, and let her run awhile. That is no easy feat. I should have invested in a carport when I bought the car, but here I am. I tell you, I wouldn’t make it up north five minutes. You couldn’t pay me to live there. Although I guess they all have garages. No way could you dig out every day! It took me every bit of thirty minutes and my car is small! The snow was like a layered cake. The top was crunchy where the sun had melted it a little, then a couple inches of regular fluff, then another layer of ice from the sleet during the day Monday, then the rest was fluffy. What a pain. But it sure has been pretty. It was sparkling this morning so gloriously it was hard to be aggravated. And, as an added bonus, I’m hoping all the mosquitoes are freezing their little bug bodies to death.

I’ve just so enjoyed being cozy with my candles and blankets. I made Hamburger Helper today! I haven’t had that since I was a kid. It was perfect ❤️ I haven’t read as much as I had intended, and I also didn’t bake cookies or watch 1883. I’m telling you, I’ve been a poster child for supreme laziness. I’m not even sorry. On one hand, I think it would have been nice to have had company, to have someone right here to play board games with and cook for…but on the other hand, confined spaces with people and no escape for anyone isn’t always a winning combination for me. So it’s probably for the best. I’ve made it through just fine. I’m thankful there was no reason for me to leave, no medical emergency or anybody needing my assistance. I think it’s a blessing to settle in and recharge. And I’m infinitely grateful my power has stayed on. What a relief.

So if y’all are still snowed in tomorrow, I hope you find a good book to read. I hope you have enough food. And if you don’t have either, I’m sorry, because I don’t have four wheel drive and I can’t help you. But there are plenty of books online! And if you have a library card, there are zillions at your disposal through the Libby app.

Love from a very snowy Appalachia,

~Amy

I just momentarily sniggered at myself because I thought I had been naming them 2023 and nobody had noticed, but I went back and looked and no, they’re correctly labeled 2024 and I’m the idiot. Per the usual.

So, just sitting around, waiting on the snow. I dunno, seems like they only hit it half the time, so we’ll just have to wait and see. It’s coming from the west, so it’s a crapshoot. Out of the south and you better hold on to your hat, it’ll be a big ‘un. I’m down to two eggs and four slices of bread, but I’ve got lots of everything else, except tomatoes. Oh well. I’m sure it will be fine. I’m just praying the power stays on because I don’t have much wood. And if the pipes freeze I’m for sure up a creek without a paddle. But there’s no sense worrying about it now, because I ain’t going out to bust wood. I need to go buy a generator, once and for all. But it always seems that other things are more pressing. Generators are like tires. Necessary, but not fun.

Finally finished my first book of the year. What should have taken one day stretched out for three whole weeks! As I wrote on my Goodreads review, it wasn’t terrible, it just wasn’t very good. At least not for me at this age. Had I read it in my early twenties, oh sure, absolutely. But I also wonder if it was riding the coat tails of Dolly’s book because it had a similar plot— main character’s alias was Rose, big music star, falls for small town guy. Yes, that’s right, a Hallmark book. Whatever, I’m on Harlan Coben now. He’s been popular with several of my friends, so I’m looking forward to this. I don’t know how I got caught up in that other, but when I find out who put me on that, I’m gonna…. Well, I don’t know, and I doubt anyone will fess up at this point.

My dog is snoring beside me. I took a serious nap today but two hours later I was ready for another one. I think I’m part bear— only wake up to eat and don’t emerge from my den until the freeze breaks. I was sitting here, mindlessly scrolling on my phone tonight and I was like, “oh yeah, my blog”. At least I don’t feel pressure to come up with something super entertaining. Y’all are just patiently waiting me out, I can feel it. I just wanna know if I can do it. I am very much looking forward to entry #365. Well, actually, this year being a Leap Year it will be #366.

I think I hear ice pellets. I hate to move to look, because that will disturb my dog, and you know what they say about sleeping dogs.

I could do with some snow cream…

We watch the weather 
And prepare for the worst
Run the bathtub full of water
But not for our thirst

Get your washing all done
The blankets piled up
Charge your phone and the radio
Curl up with the pup

All the baking is done
The candles are lit 
Books to be read
And now we just sit

My eyelids are heavy
I’m torturing myself
I don’t need to worry
It’s bad for my health

Enough of that garbage. It’s here, and it’s laying. Probably wake up and it’ll be butthole deep to a ten foot Indian. I don’t care. It’s January, it’s supposed to be cold and gloomy. Let it snow. ❄️

Goodnight from Appalachia,

~Amy

It is weathering outside. It has been weathering weirdly all day. I went to work, anticipating the weird weather, but was woefully unprepared for just how weird the weather would become.

It started off frosty and cold, with a stunning sunrise in certain parts of the county. It wasn’t long before it had warmed to about 50, which has a tendency to make me suspicious of what’s coming. Nader weather.

Sure enough, about 12:30, here it was. The house behind my office has been under a near-constant remodel since early spring of 2020, and stuff was flying off their house in every direction. Time for me to hit the road before it got any worse. Thankfully my board is understanding in such matters, so I packed up my laptop and away I flew.

So I’ve been curled up in my late Uncle Dale’s chair all afternoon, pecking away at the minutes and sending an email or two. What with the long weekend, and not really fully back at full throttle after the holidays, nobody is expecting much.

Anymore, it is constantly on my mind what I’m going to write about each day. This morning, as I started up the road, I spotted a horse on the hillside in a red turnout rug. I thought I might write about it…which would evolve into some story or another about one of my past experiences with horses.

Then I stopped by Bojangles for breakfast, and the Mountain Dew was from the bottom of the barrel, and therefore undrinkable, so I decided to dump it outside on the grass instead of pouring it down the sink. I was jostling my purse, IPad, grocery bag with some stuff in it, my Scotty Kiger water bottle (think Stanley cup…hahaha…Stanley cup), bag o’ breakfast, and my rancid Mountain Dew. I removed the lid and sorrowfully dashed the offensive Dew. Then I could throw it straight in the big trash can outside and not have that in my hands when I went to unlock the door. Yes, that’s right, I had my keys out, too. Forgot about them when I was listing all my pack mule accessories. Anyway, the lid is now separate from the cup, and so I must flip open the garbage can lid while juggling all the other junk. It would have probably been easier to just go on inside like a normal person and use a normal trash can. But me, I like things difficult and exciting. So I whip the lid up to the wheelie trash can and manage to get the lid from my drink in there. I do it again to throw the cup in there and suddenly it’s coming a rain shower of Mountain Dew on my head.

I guess I didn’t get all of it out when I flung it onto the grass.

So now what was left is residing in my still-wet-from-the-shower hair, my sweatshirt, shoes, purse, Bojangles bag, IPad, grocery bag, water thermos, and- oh yeah, my keys.

Le sigh.

Nothing to do but eat my breakfast and dry off the best I could. I rationalized that it was mainly just carbonated water, anyway.

It never fails when I do something stupid like this that everybody in the county comes to see me. Sure enough, had just gulped down my last Bo-round when the handymen showed up. Then a member of my board. And while I’m on the subject of my appearance, may I also mention I had not applied one dab of makeup and my wardrobe was a hoodie, jeans, and Hey Dudes. And I already told you my hair was still wet. So obviously I wasn’t looking my best prior to the Mountain Dew incident. I still needed a few signatures for my petition, so what the hay, let’s walk over to the library and get the rest. They usually see me at my better, if not best, let’s just squelch any idea they had of what kind of person I truly am and give them the real me.

So that’s what I did. And as I was walking over there, I thought again of how nice it is to be in this part of town, where I can do things like walk to the library on a nice day (it hadn’t become blustery yet). I often walk over to Planning/ Stormwater/ Water Department too. And on occasion, dispatch. There’s just something about the simple act of traveling on foot that appeals to me. I guess that’s why I love Savannah and Charleston so much.

I still need one last signature, so that’s why I’m sitting here, waiting on my aunt to get home. I’m quite cozy in this big chair in this quiet house with all the deer looking at me from their various positions on the walls, but I’d also like to be home, rubbing velvet ears. Even though he’d probably be bouncing around, driving me crazy, wanting to play tug of war. I’m sure my aunt will appreciate coming into her home all lit up for a change on this windy, rainy day. So I sit. And I write. And my IPad is still a lil sticky.

Love from Appalachia,

~Amy

This is turning into a JOB. I have had a 12 hour day, with two meetings and lots of running around. I just want to brush my teeth and go to bed. But I have made a commitment and I intend to stand by it. Just like the people at the gym tonight. I saw them, well, rather, I saw the parking lot, and I thought they must be giving away free cupcakes to draw that many people. Then I remembered it was still early January and that explained everything. So I continued to Zaxbys and then ate a vanilla zinger. Hey, somebody’s gotta keep the industry alive.

Hung out at the Co-op today for awhile, trying to garner signatures for the petition for the election ballot. In many ways, Co-op is the same as it’s ever been, but in other ways, it’s totally different. There are new faces every time I go, but they’re still a friendly bunch and I feel certain I would fit in with most of them. The tire shop isn’t the bustling place it once was, but I believe the mechanics they have now are problem solvers. I had so many fun times there within those walls, and I’m faced with a memory every time I turn around: Willie allowing me to pull the breakers down at the end of the day if we met at the time clock, the time an entire gallon of Red Cell fell off my buggy in the hallway, coating the tile floor and the Tennessee Crème walls, running fertilizer tickets with the numbers written in giant font so Richard could see them without his glasses, the conference table lined with paper bags with each employee’s name written on them for collecting Christmas cards, all the customers who would come in with a joke or the latest gossip. Hair salons are to women what the Co-op is to men. Yes, I miss a lot of things and people, but so many aspects of it I surely don’t.

You wouldn’t believe how difficult it is to find 30 people who own property in Sevier County. Co-op employees drive from Washburn, Morristown, Maryville, I don’t know where all. Unbelievable. I don’t know who lives here anymore! I went to my other old stompin’ grounds, the dispatch center, and only got two more. I’m gonna hit the library tomorrow and make it a trifecta.

My dog is by my side, his breathing steady and even and it is making it that much harder for me to keep my eyes open and type. I wanted to write about reassurance tonight but I know I’m about to drop. Maybe tomorrow. Tomorrow, tomorrow……

Love from Appalachia,

~Amy