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
If this blog prompted me like Facebook does: “What’s on your mind?” You’d get an immediate, “snow and farmers”.
You see, farmers have always gotten the short end of the stick and are constantly up against it. There are no holidays or vacation time or sick leave. Most of the farmers I know work a “real” job then come home and farm till after dark. And they’re up before daybreak, doing what they can.
They have my respect, they have my admiration, and a few have my love.
It’s amazing how often they’re passed over in prayer. We pray for our leaders, our military, our family and friends. When the weather is bad and our electric is out, there is always an outpouring of gratitude and blessings for our linemen, as there should be. An accident? You’ll see people thanking God for the quick response from emergency personnel and the doctors. A fire? Oh you bet firemen are put on a pedestal. And that’s fine, they all deserve accolades. (Dispatch is also frequently overlooked).
It makes me a little crazy. Anyone who has ever put out a garden knows the hard labor involved, from preparing the soil, to keeping it weeded and watered, then spraying for bugs and praying the coons stay out of it. One cutworm can knock back a dozen pepper plants a night, and as much as I love turtles, they have a tendency to bite the ripest, juiciest tomatoes first. It’s always something. And what good is a garden if you can’t can the fruits of your labor? Or at least freeze some stuff? That’s a JOB. Furthermore, has anyone in this day and age ever actually been able to grow and put back enough to not have to buy any supplemental vegetables till the next crop? I’d be surprised to hear if you have.
That’s just the beginning. Think of the meat, all the hamburgers, bacon, sausage, turkey, ham, steaks, roasts, and chicken you eat in a month’s time! Don’t forget about eggs. And what do those animals eat? Grain! You gotta grow it or buy it. And what about the dairy products? Those farmers are after it. Twice a day milking, twelve hours apart, so we can enjoy our milk, whipped cream, coffee creamer, cheese, and sour cream. Fruit farmers are out there on frosty nights lighting smudge pots to keep the citrus from getting bit back. They’re pruning in the fall, and spraying in the summer. I don’t know what potato farmers do, but I doubt that’s easy, either. And lemme tell you, life without French fries wouldn’t be worth living, in my book.
What about your pants? Cotton. Cotton farmers. Your shoes and belt? Likely leather. The blanket you’re lying under might be a wool blend, or if you’re fortunate like me, a friend may have crocheted you a very beautiful alpaca blanket. It goes on and on. There’s a demonstration that Mike Sharp gives the grade schoolers that showcases all the products you would never dream that cattle provide. Things like fire retardant and tires and petroleum jelly. It’s unbelievable.
But we’re not talking about how the cow wows us. We’re talking about how the farmer does. He maintains equipment, he takes soil samples and buys fertilizer and lime and spreads it, he plants clover, he sprays for spiny amaranth, he cuts trees off fences, he mows pastures, he busts water, he mixes feed, he repairs roofs. He cuts, tedders, rakes, bales, and hauls hay. He cycles heifers, he has his bulls vet checked, he pulls babies, he vaccinates and vaccinates again. He cusses, he sweats, he blows his nose and shakes his head. He fights mud, he fights government, he fights development of subdivisions. He prays for rain. He prays for honesty. He prays for patience. He worries he ain’t enough and he knows there’ll never be enough hours in the day. Rain or shine, in sickness and in health.
But he still finds time to appreciate a sunset.
He listens and he hears the hawk, wheeling overhead, chased by crows. He watches the deer frolic, and he might even lean against a post to watch a turkey hen guide her babies safely into the ditch. Then he goes back to his ever lengthening to-do list.
They were out there today, in 8” of snow, 20 degrees and falling, feeding hay and checking for new babies, and counting what they’ve got. It didn’t matter that roads were a solid sheet of ice and authorities wanted us all to stay home. Animals have to eat. They don’t know the hazards and difficulties of merely navigating the treacherous roads. I hope they all made it. I hope the wind damage will be minimal, and I hope the spring thaw won’t leave man or beast stuck in the mud. I hope they find the part they need from the first place they call and I hope they catch hydraulic fluid on sale. I hope they don’t give up.
You need a lawyer once or twice in your life—if you’re lucky. You’ll need a doctor more than that, a few times a year. You need a farmer every day of your life, three times a day.
God bless the farmers. As I like prayers to end: God bless the hands that prepared it and the farmers who grew it. Amen.
Love from Appalachia,
~Amy
*** disclaimer: I am fully aware women farm, too. But it’s easier for me to simply write he, and also, that is the much more common demographic for farmers in my part of the country. No disrespect to women!
Well, it appears most of Sevier County got gypped on the blizzard, including Gatlinburg. I’m not complaining, though. Knoxville got our share and I’m happy for them. I’ve been warm and cozy inside with Chess, reading and eating. We’ve seen snowflakes like Forrest Gump saw raindrops: big, fat, heavy flakes, powdery specks, almost sleet-snow that came straight down, fast and true. Right now they’re moderately sized and coming down with purpose. It’s been an event.
I don’t care what it does as long as the electric stays on.
So this morning Angela posted this picture with the caption: “The most utilized light in the house.”
And BAM, onslaught of memories and I knew exactly what I’d be writing about this evening.
Yes, my grandmother often burned this light when the rest would be off. My great-grandmother, too. It was just enough if you were pillaging for a snack, it would get you enough light to see by without running the big light and alerting the entire household of your presence. Sometimes it was spotlighting a treat, or a pan of bread, or maybe just the kettle to put some moisture in the air. It stayed on through the night, helping you see the way. I guess they got electric before they got indoor plumbing and so maybe that was the guiding light to the outhouse, too. It symbolizes home and cozy and the home fires burning for me. It’s a nightlight and a touchstone of an oft-used kitchen. The heart of the home. And I’m glad my friend recognizes it and keeps on with what I would call a tradition. I suppose it ran in her family, too.
Funnily enough, I don’t switch mine on at night. I have a little night light in the kitchen, but the overhead LED one comes on by itself when you turn the corner if I haven’t slapped it off. Kevin runs his, as well as the ones that are underneath the cabinets. We all know the scolding that ensues if you flip on the surgery light for any reason, at any time of day.
But for tonight, I have turned mine on. For the snow, and for remembering. I might pay more homage with some chocolate chip cookies. To all you range light lovers, I see you. ❤️
Ambiance from an Appalachian kitchen,
~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
Some days there is nothing. It stretches out, bland, as I search my mind, shaking out books and folding blankets and fluffing pillows, like I could be searching for lost change. I am looking for the note I wrote to myself hours ago, when I thought, “when you sit down to write tonight, if you don’t have anything else, write about this.” But of course I didn’t write down my idea, that would be ludicrous! Surely I can remember something so simple!
It is no use patting my pockets, it is not there. It is not in the pile of receipts on the desk, or stuffed into a compartment of my pocketbook. I did not even whisper it to my dog.
The simplicity of my life must come as a surprise to some people, who couldn’t stay home if you pinned them to their couch like a rare butterfly specimen. Speaking of specimens, did y’all see where we will have two broods of locusts at the same time this year? Have the entomologists been looking forward to this for decades? Or did they just recently procure the data to predict it? I remember a major locust emergence as a child. I went to Uncle Dale’s and plucked them off his maple trees, entertained for hours on end. No, I wasn’t scared. Bugs don’t bother me. Snakes do. Typewriters intimidate me. House fires terrify me. But not bugs.
So today is my good friend Kay’s birthday. She counted it up, and this is the first year she’s been home on her birthday in over ten years. She’s usually at the gift show in Atlanta. Kay is so much fun. Y’all would love her, if you don’t already know her. We are at our shiniest over a couple of martinis, and we’re always garnering attention from fellow bar mates. “Can’t sit here and wish, gotta move on!” Yeah, we moved on, alright. “We stick out like two sore thumbs in here, but the food is good!” What a night! And her afraid we were going to jail because I was packin’ Annie. I’m ALWAYS packin’, I don’t know why she was surprised. Her only flaw is she rides Arabians! I can overlook her tardiness, but the Arab thing…..🤣🤣 So a BIG Happy Birthday to my fellow red headed friend! We shall ring it in when you return. I know it’s your busy time. What, 52 airplanes in 30 days? So glad you are one of my Co-op customers turned friend ❤️❤️ Don’t know what I would have done without you the last several years.
I came across a recipe for a lemon crème cake a few minutes ago and it’s pretty much all I can think about. Here’s the recipe in case one of y’all want to make it for me. I’m hoping if you click, it will show you the whole picture, because it looks cropped here on my screen.
I am procrastinating on reading my book. It sucks so bad. I honestly don’t know why I even borrowed it. It’s a Hallmark movie came to written form and blech. It is turrrrible. But it goes back tomorrow and I have 28% to go and I AM NOT A QUITTER.
At least I got my house cleaned and my porch swept today. It’s always good to have as much done as possible before a storm. Lots of people were without power yesterday and last night from the high winds and rain. I’m pretty fortunate, but I’m also not in the sticks.
Well, I’m gonna get back to the book, bad as I hate to. Then I can start something new. It’s a crying shame I’m two weeks into the new year and haven’t read not one book yet. But I’m working on it. And you know what they say….if you can’t find anything you like to read, write something yourself!
Love 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
Chester is absolutely, positively, 110% wanting to go outside.
There is a skunk outside.
Chester will not be permitted outside tonight.
My house is haunted, in case you didn’t know. My ceiling fan will sometimes turn by itself. I thought it was doing it only when the heat or air was blowing, but it’s not turning now, and the heat is blowing. Last night it wasn’t turning, but the chain pulls were moving. Tonight, all is still. I can watch, as I am ensconced in my library chair and have an unobstructed view. It’s weird. And no, I haven’t had windows open to change the air movement one way or another. The only other fan is in my bedroom. There is no explanation, apart from ghosts. So ghosts it is.
People like it when I write about them. People like attention. I do, too. I’ve thought all day that I would write one sentence each about ten people and let y’all guess what was written about whom. And then in coming weeks I would elaborate as the mood hit me.
#1. A strong redhead who rides a proud red horse, prefers Sauvignon Blanc (but not Kim Crawford), who can mingle with any crowd, anywhere, anytime.
#2. A quilter, a baker, but not a candlestick maker, at least not so far as I know.
#3. A halfback Yankee who has a penchant for Christmas lights, Halloween decorations, and is an advocate for firemen, dispatchers, my writing, and the Kodak Branch Library.
#4. She sleeps a lot but she’d help me hide a body.
#5. This one will melt down if the phone rings but doesn’t shy away from page long texts, she loves cozy mysteries and Steven Tyler, and has a sweet tooth as big as her heart.
#6. Once upon a time, he told the funniest deer hunting stories, caught the biggest fish, and could whistle for a dog using the gap between his teeth.
#7. He drives the prettiest dump truck in the county, is a little backward and shy, is methodical and conservative, appreciates longevity of products and common sense in people, likes John Deere tractors and horned Hereford cattle, but above all else, is supremely humble and kind.
#8. Drinks bourbon and Diet Dr. Pepper, hits Signature Status at Chickalay mid-year, lives in the most droll city this side of the Mississippi but his cooking can’t be beat and his porch alone is worth the drive.
#9. Rode a buckskin horse, loves fancy things, can talk for three hours about absolutely nothing at all with someone he just met, and never backs down from a selfie with strangers.
#10. He loves taking pictures of vast mountains and tiny fungi, reading Stephen King, eating anything that won’t eat him, writing short hair-raising stories, and was the most famous dispatcher of 2016.
I don’t think anybody can name all ten, but it was fun thinking up some key traits of some of my favorite people.
I’ve got a busy day tomorrow so I will end this one here.
Love from Appalachia with the skunks and the haints ,
~Amy
My best friend has been in Texas all week. I’m actually not jealous, because she’s been spending time with her sister-in-law and brother. Her sister-in-law has been given a Stage IV pancreatic cancer diagnosis and so Lisa felt the need to be by her side for a time. I think it’s been a good visit for both of them. They had some late night cookie eating bonding moments.
She was flying home today and the Houston Hobby hub has been a cluster. First they landed from Midland, but had to sit on the plane waiting for a gate for over an hour. Lisa had been looking forward to her hour and a half layover to get something to eat. So that was shot. Luckily, her other flight got a late start boarding or she would have probably missed it. Then she had to sit on that plane at the gate for an eternity. And it wasn’t a weather delay, evidently they’re short ground crews. The Southwest flight tracker online was telling me they had departed, but then Lisa starts texting me and sends me pictures from the window and they’re still on the ground. So that would be frustrating if you were depending on accurate information from the airline. Also, their times had been skewed all day, and I don’t mean on account of time zones. Like, seven minutes into the future they’re listing that the plane had landed.
Life would be so much easier if I weren’t a worrywart.
But all this got me to thinking about how I used to really want to be a flight attendant. Or as we said back when, “stewardess”. It seemed so exotic and adventurous. Fly here and there, see the sights, meet tons of cool people from all walks of life. It seemed like a dream job for me, since I loved to travel and see new things and meet interesting people. I wasn’t tied to home, really, and I didn’t have a husband or children. But I never pursued the dream, and it went in the pile of other professions I thought I would enjoy: ballerina, veterinarian, sea turtle rehabilitator, lighthouse keeper, author. It would surface every now and then as the career that got away. I love to fly, but let’s be honest, if somebody got smart with me I’d probably throw coffee in their face. And if they were next to an emergency exit, Lord help them.
Maybe I should have considered being an Air Marshall instead.
Anyway, one day I was talking about missing out on at least trying it for awhile and my aunt said I should put it out of my head—I was too short. And she’s right, I don’t know why that never occurred to me. I don’t take a carry on, ever, because I can’t reach the overhead bins. I mean, I can, but if it was to shift to the back, I’d definitely have to ask for assistance. And I don’t do well asking for help with anything.
There are lots of prerequisites for making a flight attendant. No visible tattoos, no concealed tattoos bigger than a credit card, ability to push a cart averaging 250#, ability to stay calm in a crisis, a pleasant attitude, a neat overall appearance, ability to lift 60#, job history for the last decade, credit score…I mean it goes on and on and on. Delta is especially strict. Let’s face it: my hair alone lends a disheveled look unless Christy has had ahold of it, and I wouldn’t be able to put her in my carry on every day. And we all know how wide my ass is. That’s a hazard in itself, never mind adding some lecherous drunk guy to the mix.
All this brought to mind one experience at the Nashville airport. At least, I think it was Nashville. Wherever. I was in the queue, waiting to check my bag and get my boarding pass. Each agent was working two customers at a time. They had a light above each side that would come on when they had a free spot. I was at the head of the line, watching fixedly like a bird dog for my turn. A customer walked away from the agent, but she still had a customer on the other side and she didn’t turn on the light.
Some jerk face three or four travelers back started screaming at me to move up. And sweet, naive me, who takes zero shit, screamed back. “I will, when she’s ready, because the light isn’t on,” I hissed, instantly pissed. I’m not a seasoned traveler, but I can read and follow direction and this guy was a total ass. And as soon as the light came on, I went, and there was no delay in the action. But the rude dude kept giving me dirty looks and I thought to myself he’s the reason weapons aren’t allowed on planes. And good thing, because I was feeling a little stabby, myself.
So flight attendants have to deal with that kind of garbage day in and day out and I didn’t do so hot with that on the ground at the Co-op, I can’t imagine faring any better in the sky.
Even with the hassle it is today, even though my luggage got lost and rained on in Atlanta, even though I spent the night in a plastic chair in Salt Lake City, even though I thought we were gonna crash and burn upon touchdown in San Antonio, even though a child kicked my chair from Portland Oregon to Atlanta, even though Chickalay grilled nuggets smell like hot cauliflower marinated in skunk juice when you’re trapped in the seat next to someone eating them, I still love to fly. Can’t y’all just see me up there in my sensible black flats and my laminated safety sheet, using two fingers to point out the exits? Dang it. Why can’t my wingspan be just a few inches longer? I’d quit today and take to the skies! ✈️
Love from Appalachia,
~Amy
Today was certainly…brisk.
I walked into work this morning, fully expecting to sink into the warmth of my cozy little office, but instead I could nearly see my breath, and at the same time my nose almost fell off. Luckily the landlord always answers his phone and has handymen on retainer, and they could get out there today. While I waited for it to get to be time for them (does that make sense?) I took myself to the hardware and purchased a heater. Then I took myself to the Cracker Barrel and made a complete hog out of myself on the “Grandma’s Sampler”. Grandma’s Gluttony, more like. And to think, I was disappointed there weren’t biscuits 🙄
Anyway, it’s so comforting to simply sit and sip coffee in a Cracker Barrel and watch people. There will be your retired senior citizens, traveling in pairs, as couples. There will be groups of ladies catching up. There are families, and young moms with babies, meeting their own mother for a few minutes of peace and being waited on instead of catering to another’s needs. There are road-weary travelers, and people on business, some still caught reading a newspaper at their table. And then there’s me: displaced from a frigid downtown office. Alone but content. Smiling at the life bustling around her.
My waitress’ name was Jamie. She had a big lipsticked smile and four stars on her apron. I checked. I always check. She kept my coffee topped off and brought me one to go, while cautioning me about the lid. I wanted to be friends with her. She seemed like a responsible sort, the type you could depend on to water your plants and feed your cat if you had to stay in the hospital. I don’t always get that with Cracker Barrel waitresses, but I feel like that should be part of the gold star standard.
Back at work, I plugged my heater in, donned my crochet fingerless gloves, and wadded up under my ultra soft crocheted blankie my friend Susan made me a couple of years ago. All was as well as it could be.
So the heating unit got a bandaid, I didn’t catch pneumonia that I know of, and it’s supposed to rain like the devil dickens in the morning. And the wind will be a-whippin’. So I’m glad I’m not a pioneer woman having to worry about keeping the fire going and water boiling and all that business. I would have never made it. Besides, my hair would have never gotten along with a bonnet. And if wasn’t the cold, it woulda been the heat. I tell ya, I’m a creature of comforts. I need central heat and air and Hobby Lobby and Texas Roadhouse. Today taught me something else as well: always look your best. My grandmother had tried to instill that in me, but obviously it didn’t take because Lord, my hair. But today I was presentable, and oh so thankful, as I was out traipsing about town. Plus, handymen.
I can see that I’m going to have to set aside a time every day for this, and put my phone on silent for a block. I end up putting off writing till the end of the day, mainly so I’ll have something to write about, but it never fails when I sit down to write I’m tired and instantly frustrated with every text and phone call. It’s not fair. I love that people have things to share with me. I love that my friends want to talk to me. Maybe I should write in the morning, fresh from dreams, with a hope that the day will bring only good things.
You know, my delusional state before I contend with school traffic and the general idiots who travel Chapman Highway.
But I have enough to do in the mornings, which is work my Wordle and drink coffee. Oh, and rub Chester’s velvety ears. Very important.
I sure wish I had some exotic tropical vacation to take right now. I know that would kickstart my creative gene. And give y’all something way more interesting to read than what you’ve been having to slog through. Maybe I just need a new activity. I am NOT taking back up spin class, though, I’ll tell you that right now.
I’m a bit tired of being on the hamster wheel, of always being available and dependable and good ol’ Amy. I’m glad to be that, most all the time, but I definitely need a break. I sometimes wonder who would show up at my house if I let all calls slide to voicemail and all texts go unanswered for 24 hours. ….and in all honesty, I’d really prefer to let them go a week. I just feel that I’m carrying a lot and 95% is not even mine to carry. And the ones that ask me to carry the most…well, sometimes they don’t realize I could use some help carrying my own. But grace. Grace. That’s what friends do. We’re all tired, no one always remembers to check on one another like we should. And this time of year is especially hard. All the twinkles and glitter and cheer is packed away for another year and we’re all regretting spending so much, eating so much, drinking so much. It’s the excess that wears us down.
It’s going on ten and I just want to wash my face and crawl in bed. I was up till midnight last night, and back up at six. I’m too old for that crap. And it wasn’t even for anything good. (Don’t ask me to define good, it’ll make your ears turn red). Anyway, goodnight and best of luck with the weather tomorrow. It’s gonna be yucky. I gotta dig out my thick socks.
Love from Appalachia,
~Amy
