Copper Cellar. MMMM-hhhmmmmm.
Lorie is the reason for this new destination brunch spot of mine. And it is GLORIOUS. I don’t know how I’ve gone all these years and this place has never come up on my radar. I think the last time I went was 1998. And it was for supper, not brunch. Knoxville may have not even caught on to the whole brunch theme back then. After all, we are the scruffy little city.
Anyway. Copper Cellar is a fixture on Kingston Pike. They’ve been there forever, and for good reason. I can’t find a single thing i don’t like about the place. The booths are comfortable, the dining area is cozy, the waiters are all friendly. I like the ambiance in general. It’s usually groups out for something special.
For brunch, which i have now enjoyed twice in a month, they offer the following (and I’m sure much more that I never even saw)
- Belgian waffles with all the fixin’s
- Fruit
- Sausage
- Biscuits
- Gravy
- Eggs
- Sausage links
- Hash browns
- Fried potato cakes
- Spinach mac & cheese (heavenly, and I detest mac & cheese)
- Omelets to order
- Sweet potato bites
- Fried chicken tenders
- Fajita chicken
- Chips, guac, salsa, pico, sour cream, black beans
- Spinach maria
- Green beans
- Hash brown casserole
- Shrimp creole
- Rice
- Salad
- I think I saw lasagna yesterday
- Some other kind of chicken.
- Cheesecake
- Cookies, doughnuts, mini eclairs, all manner of little dessert bars
- PRIME RIB
That’s right. They also have a Bloody Mary bar, but I’d rather use my calories on prime rib & cheesecake.
Anyway, for $22, it can’t be beat. in my opinion, anyway.
I can get enough to eat. I’ve never gone hungry. I might not be able to eat quail and creme brulee every day, but I’ve always got meat and taters.
Food is obviously very important to me. It’s also a way I show love. I feel so homey when hosting a dinner party, and I love to be in my kitchen, especially now that I’ve updated the flooring and fridge. It seems like no matter the company, that’s where we gather. The kitchen really is the heart of the home. I cannot stand to think of people or pets going hungry. That’s why nearly every dog or horse I’ve ever owned has been pleasantly plump. Of course, LB passed plump about three years ago….
I miss cooking every day. I can’t hardly stomach leftovers more than once and not everything freezes well. And when I do freeze it, I never think far enough to label it, so I’ve often thawed vegetable soup thinking it was chicken taco soup…or, like last week, chili. That’s always disappointing. And I can’t eat cornbread fast enough to warrant making a whole pan, so now I’ve been without it for some time.
I’ve thought about volunteering at the local food ministry, but I have mixed feelings about that. I know that certain programs are misappropriated, and that people are forever abusing the system and I’m not so sure I could stand idly by with a smile fixed on my face and hand them $100 worth of food. I’d be better off with the kids over at the library for pb&j time. At least I know that’s money well spent and appreciated. Man, at the horror stories in this well-to-do county. Makes my head spin. Why do people continue to have children knowing full well they have no intention of caring for them? I assure you, your dollars are well spent within the library. Funding is always an issue, no matter the size of the library or the budget provided, they can always use more.
I better wrap this up while I’m still in the normal blood pressure range.
Well, I’m not as redneck as I thought. Because I didn’t murder my ex-husband. And let me tell you, he had it coming.
I had a hundred different ways to do it. No matter how it happened, it would have taken him by surprise. He thought I loved him too much to kill him.
My first thought was to kill him. I’ve told this story several times in the last year or so, and there’s always a moment of total stillness when I pause, just like after you take a shot of tequila. The moment of clarity, of slight pain when you’re just trying to breathe again, and thinking about the effects of your actions. It’s just a perfectly quiet moment. Notice, next time you’re doing shots. Then there’s the exhale.
Here’s the story.
It was only about 10:30, even though in the movies it’s always the middle of the night. I remember thinking that was ironic. And it was summer, one of those June nights, when no evil ever strikes. But it had. That’s the thing about life. It’s original and unexpected. It wasn’t storming, it wasn’t a full moon (but almost). I read the message and I didn’t cry. I didn’t throw up. I began to shake. And I pivoted on my heel and went straight to the bedroom.
And I paused.
He was snoring, the sleep of the unencumbered, the sleep of the remorseless. And he could stay that way forever. I thought of my pistols, but I was shaking so hard I would probably miss. I even thought there would be a little poetic justice to killing him with a weapon that he had bought me. The only other immediate option was the twelve gauge propped in the corner at the head of the bed. I could carefully maneuver it between his lips, maybe knock it on his teeth, gently, once it was in position in order to wake him up. And then I could watch his blue eyes grow more alert and widen as it dawned on him what I was doing. He would know why. And just when he went to reach for it, I could blow him away. But what a mess that would be.
I shrug.
The moment of stillness.
“Oh, Amy,” they all said.
There were other scenarios, ones where I stabbed him as he comes in for a hug, ones where I use a solvent to corrode his brake lines. I didn’t even have to have my hands on it, I could hire someone. There are Appalachian Witches who would share potions and spells and voodoo dolls. Or, in a fit of rage, I could simply smash him in the face with his baseball bat, plunging his fractured nose up into his brain. I can’t even remember all the ways I conjured.
But I had the wherewithal to remember that there are repercussions for actions, no matter how much they deserve it. And in the end, I simply prayed.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=plPRmANJF_w (Closest video to my life during this time)
Let me tell you, prayer helps.
It may not be as swift as you need it to be, and when you’re getting through the hours a literal breath at a time, it moves excruciatingly slowly. And in the meantime, I drank. And I played Brandy Clark at a decibel that makes birds take flight. And I kept my sunroof open.
I didn’t have to be hauled off in high heels and handcuffs. I didn’t set fire to his residence. I didn’t bash him publicly on Facebook, I didn’t break down at his jobsites. I didn’t call his friends and family, screaming at them all that they knew and didn’t have the balls to tell me. I kept my cool and I held my head high, knowing I was better. Confident I am the best he will ever have.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lTUQOyiD0KM (How I WANTED to act)
This is not to say I didn’t melt down in the corner of a booth at Holston’s, surrounded by my girls. This is not to say I didn’t crawl in the floor and cry on my dog every night for a month. This is not to say my very closest family and friends didn’t see me with that starved look in my eyes. This is not to say I had control of my bowels. This is not to say I remember every day of that time. This is not to say I carried on reading and watching TV and listening to music. It’s surprising how innocent all the plots and words seem until you’re looking at a disaster in your personal life. This is not to say I didn’t lose a few friends along the way because they’d never seen me like this before and my brain didn’t fire just exactly right for awhile. This isn’t to say I didn’t fantasize about taking my own life. This isn’t to say I could even eat one meal a day or sleep more than two hours a night for weeks on end.
But I will tell you I strengthened many relationships during this time.
I learned who I could trust. I got up every day and put on makeup that never budged and I forced myself to act normal in public. I fed my dog and I paid my bills and I told myself every night that it would be okay. At first I said it over and over, 3600 times an hour, in the darkness and stillness, curled on his side of the bed. And I still tell myself that. Because it will.
I will not break.
I kept waiting for it. I thought this will be it, this heartache will kill me. I will hopefully have a stroke or maybe one of those well-timed blood clots that will go straight to my brain or my lung and that will be the end of Amyloo. And that would have been okay. But it never did happen. My heart didn’t stop beating, and I didn’t shatter into sixteen million pieces. The human heart is quite resilient.
I’m stronger than I thought. I am one classy bitch.
I am still Amy.
I thought I had changed. I thought I needed someone to back me up, someone to lean on. Turns out, I’m the same as I always was. Maybe I adapted to being more dependent for awhile, because I didn’t have to do everything alone. But if I did, I came right back around to the mentality of “I’ll do it my damn self.” I have a friend who once said, “If you’re waiting on Amy to change, you might as well cut bait. She’s the same now as she was ten years ago.” And that was ten years ago, so now it’s been twenty and I’m essentially the same. I still vacation alone, eat in restaurants alone, go to parties alone. If I took a notion to go hiking, you can bet I’d do that by myself as well. I have no qualms about attending programs or going to the movies solo. I was afraid I had changed. When I got to St. George Island in September of 2018, I sat in my room and cried, just knowing I had made a terrible mistake. But I freshened my makeup and hauled my happy ass over to the restaurant closest to me that had live music and oysters. And I ended up having the time of my life that week, it was almost a meditation. And when I went to Charleston last Thanksgiving, alone, I would like to tell you there were no tears. I was walking down Bay Street and I just had to stop and marvel at how happy I was. And I cried. I’m still here. And I’m still Amy. Maybe more so than I ever was.
Gulp.
Probably not ever. The first thought I had was my relationship with God. I talk a big game but I’ve not had my derriere in a pew for many moons. He may forgive me, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try harder. My list of sins is extensive.
Then I thought back on the days when I trained people at Co-op. “Now, this is how you’re supposed to do it, but I do it this way because it’s faster, but don’t do as I do, do as I say.” But I guess it all worked out, they kept throwing me new people like fish to a Sea World dolphin.
I hope that everybody knows where they stand with me. I like to think I have honest relationships and if we’re good enough friends we can have an adult conversation and work out a disagreement. Especially if it’s someone I’ve known for 22 years. It’s a struggle to understand being dropped after that kind of history, but it happens. And you just have to let them go.
Nothing makes me madder than making plans with someone and they drop you last minute, or worse, don’t show up. I don’t know why you would commit to doing something if you had no intention of following through. It’s a big deal to get me out of the house on Sunday. But if I tell you I’ll be there, by George, take it to the bank. Ray Ball once told a man in my line that if I tell you it’s Easter, you better start hunting eggs. I understand that life gets in the way sometimes, but I’ve found that it’s traditionally the same people who will stand you up over and over. And they’re typically the ones whining they never get to see you, or need a night out. As you can imagine, I have a hard time sympathizing.
If I say those three little powerful words, you better believe I mean it. I don’t throw out that kinda verbiage to just anybody. And there are different degrees to my love, of course. I don’t love my friends the same way I love cupcakes. I don’t love my dog the same way I love takeoffs in airplanes. I don’t love books the same way I love hearing you say you love me. But I still love all of these things.
People can tell you they love you romantically, but if they don’t check on you, if they don’t tell you to get home safe, if they don’t put their hand on the small of your back to steady you…if they don’t reassure you of their love regularly in some small ways…then trust their actions, not their words.
Love cannot be bought. Love has to be shown. And food is a great indicator of love. Especially if it’s homemade.
I suppose we’re all human and prone to mistakes and oversights and breaking hearts. Life is challenging, but it’s also exhilarating and sometimes tragic. It will pass. There will be many dips and curves and screeching halts. And maybe that’ll help us notice how much sweeter it makes the high times. That’s where appreciation is born.
Go forth, and be merry!
Love from Appalachia,
~Amy
Evidently goals don’t equal priorities. Maybe I should have read through this list a little better before I committed. There I go, jumping in feet first, as usual.
#1 Be happy Sometimes this is hard….but only if I compare my life to others’. And sometimes it’s easy….when I compare my life to others’. A double edged sword. I once read somewhere that if we all threw our problems in a pile, and saw what everybody else was dealing with, we’d jerk ours back right quick. I believe this in my heart and soul.
#2 Be thankful This is easy. I did 30 Days of Thankfulness on Facebook several years in a row. But just to remember, and list, even if it’s the same things every day, it doesn’t make me any less thankful. I AM thankful for running water and indoor plumbing and my big soft bed and my cozy house and my lovely job and all my friends and family. I AM thankful for the food in my belly and my strong legs and my determination and willpower. I AM thankful to live in this great country and pray when I want to and salute the flag and honor my President and read any book I want.
#3 Be Truthful This does not mean I’m gonna go shouting it from the rooftops, but, as always, be careful when asking for my opinion. Most of y’all know this. I’m ruthless without even realizing it. But I’d rather have the truth any day over a lie. Any. Damn. Day. Don’t spare my feelings. It hurts a thousand times worse when I find out from someone else. So show me the same courtesy. The truth will stand when the world is on fire.
We’ve already been over this….again, patience….Reminds me of that joke of the jackass and his master in the desert. I’ll tell it to you sometime in real life if you’ll remind me.
I want to see Graceland. I’ve always loved Elvis. But for the longest, I didn’t really have anybody who shared in this interest, and if they did, they’d already seen it. Evidently for the majority, this is a one and done trip. And I understand that Memphis isn’t the best city to be alone in, so I needed a road trip buddy.
I still don’t know if I have that. I’m wanting to stay at The Peabody. This is a historical hotel, and it is a bit pricey. But if this is the only time I’m ever going to visit Memphis, I want to live it up and make the most of my time there. I don’t want to drive over from wherever I’m staying and risk missing the ducks’ pilgrimage. I don’t want to have to trust a shady Uber driver to get me from the bars on Beale back over to my VRBO across town. I want to be able to stagger down the sidewalk and into the lobby of my ritzy hotel.
I want to immerse myself in the culture of jazz and see all the things that make it the Delta. I haven’t spent much time at all in West Tennessee, just passing through, so I want the full experience. I want to gawk at the mighty Mississippi and smell the mud and maybe take a ride on a paddleboat through its murky passage. I want to look over fields of cotton, hot and dry, and talk to an old black man on the wood floored porch of a gas station at a four corner dirt road intersection. I can find one. I want to try barbecue everywhere I go and drift dollars down into saxophone cases. I want to sweat and sing and stare into neon lights and wonder where my life will take me if I have the pleasure of living another ten years.
And I want to eat at the Bluebird Cafe.
I expressed my concern to a fellow Elvis fanatic recently about getting to Graceland while it was still there. I’m not convinced that he’ll have enough of a following a decade from now to warrant Graceland being maintained as a museum. She’s confident his fan base is strong, however. But I’m not taking any chances. I gotta get there. To me, it’s now or never. Just like he said. I might even rent a convertible Caddy for cruisin’ while I’m there.
Ugggghhh….. this makes my head hurt. I know what I want to say but it’s hard to put into words….words that I don’t care for other people to read, I suppose.
I don’t want to forget my marriage. And I don’t want to forget how it ended in divorce.
My marriage was good, until it wasn’t. I think anybody in my circle–make that my REALM–could attest to that, not exempting my ex-husband. We were happy. He was presented with a temptation, and because of who he is (self described scorpion), he took it and plunged his stinger into my delicate frog hide.
Here. Y’all don’t have any idea what I’m talking about. http://lifestylewithsophiab.com/2018/05/09/life-lesson-scorpion-frog/
But I still have those six years of near bliss, and knowing what it was like to be thoroughly and completely loved. Because he did. He did a fantastic job of it as long as he could, until he couldn’t anymore. So now I know not to trust someone who has changed. Look at what they always were, because that is what they will revert back to, what they always will be. But I know how I want to be treated, and that it is possible. And I also have one solid year of agony to reflect on, to remind myself of the cost.
And when I forget, I will remember how close I came to being a black dot in an ocean of pain in the months following our separation and ultimate divorce. I will remember the delusion and the half truths I told myself and anybody else who asked. And I will remember something else: how important it is to lean on your friends and family. To let them help you. I will remember how to console and what not to say from what I learned during that time. No marriage is the same. What it takes in one to work may not even be a factor in another. No two divorces are the same. There will usually be children to consider. I am extremely fortunate in that aspect. There is money and property. There’s a whole litany of things that have nothing to do with your emotions. So be kind to those people who are divorcing, whether they’ve been married six months or fifty years. I doubt any of them are easy. Even when it comes down to just being a relief, there is always pain. And a feeling of failure, no matter the level.
And I would do it all over again. Because I am a frog, and it is my nature.
This made me furrow my brow and then exhale in aggravation. Barely differs from the first writing prompt of the year, “What are you MOST looking forward to?”
So. I’ll answer again.
Let me be ray of sunshine. Evidently this year is going to teach me the art of patience. January always creeps along.
Vacation
~surf, sand, seafood, solitude
Summertime
~birds, bats, warm water, drinks on patios
Good books
~poetry, thought provoking nonfiction, easy reading
Love
~it is promised...but like the pursuit of happiness I'll have to catch it myself
Being myself
~because I'm better at it than anybody
And I always look forward to driving with the windows down, sunroof open, and music blasting. It's one of my great joys in life. i feel like all is right in the world.
Live, laugh, love.....the rest falls into place
Krispy Kreme chocolate glazed doughnuts for breakfast. And disappointment. Sigh.
I don’t do resolutions. It’s just setting yourself up for failure. I would never say “I’m going on a diet–no sugar!” or “I’m going to work out five times a week!” Just no.
I MIGHT say, “I only want two doughnuts” or “I think I’ll go to spin class today, I had a large waffle fries from Chickalay.” Or “I think I’ll just have a salad for supper, I had the 9 oz filet at lunch. I should probably do some yoga tonight.”
So, as much as I would like to lose weight, I’m not really ready to sacrifice my lifestyle and eating habits for it. Sure, my liver would like a month of just water, and my heart would definitely benefit from a white meat diet….but we only get one go at this. And if I’ve learned anything, it’s that when your number is up, it’s UP.
#1 Be Happy. I do a pretty good job of this, I think. I don’t like being depressed, and so often I will list in my head all the privileges I have. Some days my best moments are just watching TV with my dog. That may sound pathetic, but I remind myself I’m not out blowing money or shooting heroin, so there’s that. Nothing wrong with a simple life. My dog loves me, and what many of us forget is that we are our dog’s WHOLE LIFE. While we have work and friends and family, they only have us. So lets help them make it something special. Take them with you when you go pick up dinner. Maybe take them to the park (unless your dog is an asshole like mine). Buy them tennis balls and let them have all eighteen at once. Fix an extra chicken breast for a special dinner. Let them meet your company. Don’t lock them away.
#2 Let. It. Gooooooooo. There are some people you can’t make happy. Sometimes you just absolutely cannot jive with people you’ve known the better part of your life. Their morals and beliefs are just too different, or worse, they try to force them on you. Just cut communication the gentlest way and move on. It’s never going to get better. It’s not worth the headache and high blood pressure. Sometimes people just don’t approve of who you are as a person and that’s okay. They don’t have to.
#3 Cultivate and Immerse. Over the Christmas season, I had the pleasure of spending time with several friends I haven’t seen in years. And on these excursions, I ran into other friends I hadn’t seen in years. Serendipity, it’s called. I love it. I thoroughly enjoyed spending time with these friends and catching up on their lives. I would literally drive home in tears for how thankful and blessed I am to be able to lead this life. No strings. I can do as I please. Maybe I’m selfish. So be it. I wouldn’t trade it. There were times I wanted to stay in with a book and popcorn but I was always glad I got out once I did. I had a good time. And I am actively trying to continue seeing people this year. We need a network of friends to share life’s journey.
