I finished Spare! I finished Spare!!!

It’s a sad little life I lead when that’s my biggest news.

I didn’t sleep for squat last night and I was up past one trying to write the review on Goodreads. I typically include any passages that speak to me, or any favorite lines in my reviews. Imagine my surprise that my character count was almost DOUBLE what I was allowed. So I spent half the night and most of today whittling it down. That was hard!!! I left all the sad rhinoceros stories. Those are important. Emily read it just after I posted it and gave me her stamp of approval. She said she was so glad I read it so she wouldn’t have to; she feels that I hit all the pertinent points.
It looks like I should share it here because I really can’t think of anything else to write about….

I’m gonna read The Magnificent Lives of Marjorie Post next. It looks intriguing. The cereal heiress. I don’t know that I’ve ever had Grape Nuts. I need to try them. I like crunchy stuff, and I like grapes….

Tuesdays are typically the best for getting around town. Traffic is minimal, tourists have either gone from the weekend, came in on Monday to spend the week, or haven’t arrived yet.
Today it was atrocious. I don’t know WHAT happened. I felt like I was never gonna get through town to get home.

I really need to be more cautious about letting Chester out after dark. I’ve been smelling and seeing more skunks than usual. ‘Tis the season, I reckon. And he wants to play with EVERYTHING. I guess I’d have to banish him to the basement if he got sprayed. I’ve heard no matter what concoction of tomato juice and magic bottled potion you use it takes a while to wear off.

Robin’s son had a horrific motorcycle wreck and is at UT, please pray. She says she feels very fortunate to still have him. He broke his hip, pelvis, arm, and will have to have reconstructive surgery on his face, as well as the other broken parts. He is in a lot of pain. Life is fragile. Luckily, Noah is young. I feel confident he’ll pull through this. I am sure she’s scared to death, though. I read somewhere years ago that to be a mother is to have your heart walking around permanently outside of your body. Mine causes me enough turmoil firmly inside my ribcage, so I’m very grateful I didn’t reproduce.

Love from Appalachia,
~Amy

The word prompt for today is “who are your most favorite people?”

Well. I won’t be delving into that. One is dead, one I divorced, one I have written off, and one will never be mine, so what good are favorites?

So. What are y’all doing? I’m suffering through the last few pages of Spare. It’s horrendous. Harry is pretty cute, but that’s about the extent of his charms as far as I’m concerned. I’ve had this book borrowed three times now, due to my inability to slog through it. That alone should tell you how galling it is. I’ve got The Magnificent Lives of Marjorie Post lined up next; surely it will be better.

I was talking to a friend today about the hair appointment I have coming up. Just not soon enough, since I have a party to attend prior to. My gray is getting harder and harder to cover up for any length of time. Just like my fine lines and wrinkles. And what do I care? I earned them. I don’t want to look 21. But I’d rather not look like a 70 year old, either.

Sigh.

I stumbled across this on Facebook yesterday. It spoke to me.

Don’t fall in love with a woman who reads, a woman who feels too much, a woman who writes…

Don’t fall in love with an educated, magical, delusional, crazy woman. Don’t fall in love with a woman who thinks, who knows what she knows and also knows how to fly; a woman sure of herself.

Don’t fall in love with a woman who laughs or cries making love, knows how to turn her spirit into flesh; let alone one that loves poetry (these are the most dangerous), or spends half an hour contemplating a painting and isn’t able to live without music.

Don’t fall in love with a woman who is interested in politics and is rebellious and feel a huge horror from injustice. One who does not like to watch television at all. Or a woman who is beautiful no matter the features of her face or her body.

Don’t fall in love with a woman who is intense, entertaining, lucid and irreverent. Don’t wish to fall in love with a woman like that.

Because when you fall in love with a woman like that, whether she stays with you or not, whether she loves you or not, from a woman like that, you never come back.

~Martha Rivera-Garrido

Now, upon looking up the author, one of the first things I found was that she’s a staunch hater of Trump, which shouldn’t surprise me, since most women who come across as strong minded are generally liberals as well. Oh well. I liked what she said in the poem. In my experience, it’s true.

Y’all know my love of Little Debbie Christmas Tree Cakes. Last night at Food City I finally came across the muffins. Of course there was no question of me procuring a box. Brace yourself for a wildly unpopular opinion:

They were gross.

So I’m gifting mine to my disgusting coworker, who has a weakness for refined sugars, complex carbohydrates, chemically processed foods, and red dye. And wonders why he’s in the bathroom every time he turns around. It’ll make his day. Supposedly a woman threw a LDCTC at him through his dump truck window on Veterans Day when he nodded at her. I think he’s a liar, but I guess stranger things have happened.

Ok. I really gotta finish this book. Only 15 minutes left, which I’m certain will pass like one solid year of my life.

Love from Appalachia,

~Amy

I’m having a good morning. I feel like myself. I’d go so far as to say I feel light. And lemme tell you, I’m glad of it. All I cleaned last night was the toilet, so I’m sitting here looking at two weeks’ worth of dust on my coffee table. But I have coffee to drink, and I might finish this book before I start in on the cleaning. I also want to fix biscuits and sausage gravy for breakfast so I’m just easing into my weekend. Chester woke me up HOWLING last night. Idk if he was dreaming, bc when he woke me up it was little howls, and then he transitioned to full throttle. I remember LAUGHING. That’s an odd thing to do, just waking up. He’s so crazy. And yes, he was right there by my head curled between me and a pillow. I thought most dogs had the manners to curl at their owner’s feet in bed. Mine is a BRAT.
I am off to a good start with my word games, too, which always gives me a sense of well being. I got Wordle in three guesses, it was fairly easy, and I only made one mistake on Connections. I didn’t get Connections at all yesterday. Not one stinkin’ category. That takes a hit on the ol’ ego, I’m just sayin’.

So, just now, I was standing at the kitchen sink, washing my hands, and I spot a deer. Alone. I notice it’s a buck. I get my binoculars out and am watching him. It’s a nice 4 pointer plus brow tines. I watch him till he gets out of sight over the hill behind Aunt Bren’s. I’m all excited, chattering away to Uncle Dale (yes, the one in the little vase in the library, I’ve told y’all I’m crazy) and in a minute or two he comes back. But he’s limping.
A few weeks ago, right before I left for my little Crossville trip, I saw a buck back here limping along, and he only had one antler. He looked pretty beat up and I worried that he might not make it through the season. I get my binoculars out and it’s HIM!! His limp wasn’t as pronounced, and his antler was a lot thicker all the way around than I remembered, but I couldn’t believe I was seeing two bucks at the same spot within three minutes of each other!!! It was so exciting.
I was filling Uncle Dale in and got so wound up about it, Chester came in there, trailing his blankie and looking all quizzical, like who could have slipped in the house and how did he miss them?
I hope this makes you feel better about yourself, that I’m certifiably nuts.

I got the biscuits and sausage gravy fixed and Chester and I gorged ourselves. I decided I better knock out the housework, and therefore calories, while I was up and doing. I was reasonably sure if I sat down I’d be asleep in no time. And really, I could use a trip to the grocery store but that didn’t sound like a good idea at all. I still needed to get Lindsey some gift cards. And I hoped a new charging cable for my phone would fix the issue of not getting a good connection. I do NOT want to have to get a new phone and go through all that mess. But I’d suffer through one more day.

I’m finished with God of the Woods, I’m disappointed with what happened. It’s just like real life, they all made poor decisions and they’re all miserable but want to blame it on someone else. I expect better out of fictional characters!!! Obama declared it The Book of Summer 2024. He was either paid off or he didn’t read much else this summer. Idk why everything I’m reading lately has lesbians in it, but I’m tired of it. 90% of the characters were unlikable. The one I liked best of all was the villain. I would have much rather him have been the narrator and got his story. He was barely a player. It would have certainly been more interesting. Sometimes people are exactly as they appear on the surface. And sometimes people are delusional.

Knocked out a few blog posts this evening in an attempt to catch up, then decided to start a new book right away. It was a sequel to one I read several months ago, Summer of ’69 by Elin Hilderbrand. I thought it was a full-fledged book. I looked down not long into my reading and discovered I was at 18% (I read on my iPad). I thought, “wow, this must be better than I thought if I’m already that far!”. A few minutes later I look again and I’m at 35%. I get suspicious. Something is amiss.
Yeah. The whole book was only 64 pages long. This is disappointing, not only because I really liked the original book and was looking forward to catching up on all the characters, but because I had pushed other loans that had come through because I thought I would be devoting two or three days to this. Oh well.

Today is my mother’s birthday. I wonder what her life looks like now. Probably the same as it always has. I didn’t devote any more brain cells to it.

A quiet day, and I didn’t mind so much. I could have gone to JA’s, they roped this afternoon, but sometimes it’s best just to sit with your thoughts and make sure you’re still who you think you are.

Love from Appalachia,
~Amy

I had an agenda for today. I wanted to go to TJ Maxx and look for a new blouse or sweater to wear to some holiday parties (I have four to attend this year, maybe five, and haven’t had anything new in a long time. I’m due for something red and sparkly). I also wanted to see if I couldn’t find Lindsey something for her birthday that’s coming up Sunday. She always compliments me on my tops, so I felt certain I could find something she would like. All I would have to do is find something I liked, and buy it in her wispy size. Additionally, I wanted to maybe run in Ulta for some makeup, and wheel into Publix for a sandwich. I’m aware that’s a lot to accomplish in an hour on a Friday in Sevier County, but sometimes miracles happen. I thought if I left at 11 my chances would be much improved. I didn’t eat but one scrambled egg on a piece of toast for breakfast, so I figured if I did my shopping first, then brought the sandwich here to eat after, I had laid out the perfect day. I am ever the optimist.

Well, that’s not what happened.

A producer I went to college with showed up and all bets were off, as he stayed from 9:30 till after one. It’s my fault, too; I was contributing to conversation, but he also knows how I love my food. Like, we had discussed my plan for Publix at length. And I shared the story of the Xerox guy and his middle-of-the-day-three-hour-service-call. Sometimes when I have my day planned out and then something disturbs it and puts me off my agenda, I become upset. Today would have been one of those days, but I kept reminding myself I was needed more in this conversation than I was elsewhere, and so I settled my nerves as well as I could.

Never go to TJ Maxx hungry. I knew better but I still did it. People are unbelievable. I was following an elderly lady in the front doors, and she was a bit feeble, just shuffling along. There was a foreign woman behind me and she got all huffy and strutted around us, nearly knocking the old woman down in her haste to beat us through the doors. I just shook my head. I noted the line to check out and knew this was not going to be a quick trip.
Every time I tried to look at any clothes people crowded in on me, so I headed back to the Christmas decor. I found a magnolia wreath I really liked. It had beading along the edges of the petals to give it a frosted look. But it was $40 and I just didn’t have it in my heart to spend that today. I was wanting to look at holiday dish towels, and I eventually located them along the back wall. This woman had the end of the aisle blocked with her buggy while she looked at something on the endcap. I knew she wouldn’t be there forever so I was waiting her out instead of asking her to kindly move her shit. I was just standing there, pointedly looking at the dish towels on the wall behind her. Do you know that hussy looked me straight in the eyeball and pulled into the aisle where I stood and blocked it completely and went to looking at whatever was on my left??! I went, “Un friggin’ BELIEVABLE,” flipped my hair, rolled my eyes, and pivoted off my heel. The place was crawling with rude, oblivious people. It was the same wherever I turned. I couldn’t get out fast enough.
And no, I didn’t find Lindsey anything, nor me a sparkly top. And I abandoned the hunt for dish towels.
But!! I did run into Sherri Hedrick and her sweet daughter Meghan…who asked me where my husband was 🤣🤣 Meghan is my age, but is special needs. She has never forgotten the time she met Johnny at the Co-op. He always did make quite the impression on the ladies 😏. I resisted the urge to laugh and tell her when she met me a new one, to please make haste in sending him my way.

I have a friend I’m quite worried about. She hasn’t been feeling exactly right for coming up on a year. Luckily, she was persistent in getting answers and forced her doctor to order several tests. The doctors were convinced it was her heart, due to her fatigue and persistent cough. They’d performed several tests and couldn’t detect anything amiss. The last resort was a heart cath. So she scheduled it, knowing something was wrong and wanting to get to the bottom of it. While she was having the heart cath done, she had a mini stroke. So she’s been dealing with that, having physical therapy and trying to adjust to a new normal. But she had a follow up bone marrow biopsy, because the cath didn’t show any abnormalities. The bone marrow test showed she has a rare blood cancer that’s hard to detect and symptoms take a long time to surface. When they do, the primary one is fatigue. So that all tracks. The only thing her doctor advised her to do for the time being was to add a baby aspirin a day to her other medications. That was six weeks ago. She had an appointment today to get the treatment plan. Turns out, her doctor was out today, so she saw the fill in doctor. He took her off one or two of her medicines and cut one back and told her she had stage IV kidney failure and to come back in six weeks.
I about flipped my lid. She said she went to the ER last night because she couldn’t get her breath and they gave her a steroid shot and she thinks that bumped her numbers up to normal range on stuff and that they’re not accurate. She said she told the doctor that, but he didn’t want to do any kind of treatment plan. She kept talking about Stat numbers being high, and I asked what that was, and she didn’t know, but he was real good at explaining stuff. Clearly not. I listened patiently as she sang his praises about how thorough he was but every time I asked a question about levels, and what was normal, she couldn’t answer it and told me I’d have to Google it. In my head I’m thinking, “Okay, but I’m not the one who’s sick. And also, you just said he described all this so well you actually understand.” But I held my tongue. Eventually, as she wound down, and ended with saying she just wants to be well and no longer tired, but has to be resigned to six more weeks. I gently suggested she might want to consider getting a second opinion. From an institute with a better reputation in dealing with this kind of cancer, like Vanderbilt. She shrugged it off with a “yeah” and right into the next thing. And then back to being tired of being tired and having to wait, so I decided to be a little more stern. “NO. This is unacceptable. You need to call Vanderbilt.” She starts saying she might call her brother and get his thoughts (I reckon he had cancer several years ago so obviously that makes him an authority). I’m wondering if she’d be a candidate for proton therapy, or stem cell therapy. I don’t know how all those work, I don’t have a doctorate, but I’d be finding someone who did. I think it’s an insurance racket and some doctors are content to let you get sicker as they pad their pockets. In the meantime, I’ve pulled up their phone number at Vandy with about two dozen blood specialists listed on the website and told her again to call them.
I decided to share with her Kay’s story of when she got skin cancer. She’s told me several times over the years, “After I got the diagnosis, I knew I wasn’t messing around with those yahoos in Knoxville, I went straight to Vanderbilt.” She remembers being in surgery: she had a big place on her calf (all that you could see was a spot the size of a pencil eraser, though) and a place under each breast that had to be cut out. She said she remembers laying there on the table and asked the surgeon if he was at least halfway and he said, “Honey, we’re almost DONE.” She was so relieved and happy and shocked she started crying. He looked at her over his magnifying LED spectacles and said, “That’s how we do things here. Welcome to Vanderbilt.” 😎
HELLLLLLL YEAH.
Kay has been cancer free ever since (she always says, “it could come back tomorrow, but that was 12 years ago, so I’m happy”). By the time I got to the end of the telling, tears stood in my eyes and I had a knot in my throat. I love Kay so much, and I’m so glad we’ve become closer in the last six years. I’ve leaned on her through thick and thin, through martinis and mudslides.
My friend finally said she didn’t know anything about getting around Nashville. I was floored, and said that’s what GPS is for. And for that matter, drive as close as you feel comfortable, and call an Uber. Heck, I’d take her if she’d just make the appointment. Some people are just limited. They lack the education and experience to know there is something better. To understand that the lack of concern or subpar approach is inexcusable. I feel like we have to advocate for our own health. I’m afraid she’s going to let this drag out until she doesn’t have the strength to demand a more aggressive treatment. She’s already sleeping over 16 hours a day on weekends. I am very concerned. But I can’t make anybody do anything, and it’s so frustrating.

I was lamenting all this to Kay later this evening and she sighed knowingly. “I think God will put a bunch of hardships on you to force an action.” She can be very wise, to be such a flake 🤣🤣🤣 She’s dealing with her own issues at her job right now, and is well versed with rolling with the punches. We’ve both been turned on our heads more than once and had to scramble to stay afloat. We’ve never been afforded the luxury of a breakdown. We’ve both paved our own roads with the gravel dumped in a haphazard mess at the foot of the hill. And no husbands or sons or brothers or daddies to help us. Just us and our wits.
“I agree with that. He will definitely make you uncomfortable to get you to do something different.” I for one know when my skin isn’t fitting. I know what I’ll put up with, and for how long. News flash: not much, and not for long. Although I do sometimes surprise myself drawing patience from reserves I wasn’t aware I possessed.

I got another anonymous phone call this afternoon at work. Some kind of rock music was playing in the background. I couldn’t hear it well enough to place the song, or even the artist, so if it was supposed to be a message, please hold the phone closer to the speaker next time. Also, if you were trying to make it appear to be a pocket dial, it would be very coincidental to hit the only extension that goes anywhere. Kind of like your friend that called a while back that tried to appear flustered and said she’d hit the wrong extension. (And then called right back).
I’m the only extension.
I don’t understand the point. I mean, if you’ve got something to say, say it. Maybe you need a blog, too!! I’m speaking from experience when I say it can be very therapeutic. But casing me isn’t helping anything. And yes, I see you driving by. It’s a free country, you’re free to drive wherever you want. I don’t recommend backing out of my aunt’s driveway, though, go ahead and come to the top and make a loop next time. You about got run over that day I was sitting on my porch, watching you watching me. And I couldn’t have even come to your aid; that was when I’d hurt my leg and was still getting around on crutches.
I don’t blame you for being curious. But eventually it’s time to move on. There’s a whole world of true happiness out there, it’s yours for the taking. I can’t understand staying in place because you’re scared. Scared of what, exactly??? I’d be more scared, laying on my deathbed and realizing I never did anything I really wanted to. Knowing I’d stayed where I wasn’t loved for the sake of saving face. Luckily, that won’t be my problem. I’ve made some really terrible choices in this life, but I’ve made some good ones, too. I’ve got things to answer for, and so do you. Better make the most of this life while you’re still here to live it. And you better live for yourself. It may sound selfish, but I guarantee once you start being happy in your own life, the people surrounding you will be happier, too. You know, like those kids and grandkids that you think are your legacy. Give them something to remember, something to be proud of. My grandmother was a strong woman who instilled the value of hard work and not needing a man’s love. She enjoyed men, or that’s the rumor, she was done with them by the time I came along. But she would go dancing in her sparkly gold shoes, and she stood her ground when her philandering, spendthrift ex husband came calling one day. She pointed her pistol at his drunken figure and ordered him off the property. He scoffed and said it wasn’t loaded and she shot the dirt from beneath his feet.
He skedaddled back into his Pontiac and the last she ever saw of him was skid marks.
I drew on mine once, too, but didn’t have to fire it. He knew I didn’t bluff.

Love from Appalachia,
~Amy

I like watching people. I especially like people watching at airports and bars, and the absolute pinnacle is airport bars.

Blackhorse is no exception. I think they probably get a little bit of airport clientele, being as close to the airport as they are. That’s where I took JA that time after I picked him up, so it stands to reason others go, too. In any restaurant, I prefer to face the door. I don’t want any armed gunman sneaking up on me. Plus, I want to be the first to see anything exciting, period, be it a red-hatted blue hair in her pearls and finery, or a shady character with a backpack. This is part of the reason I prefer that corner stool at Blackhorse. I can put my back to the wall, turning sideways, and watch the entire bar, restaurant, and front door. Only the patio view is unattainable, but I’m okay with that. If you sit on the long part, in front of the taps, you’re constantly being stepped around and people reaching through your space with an ever changing flow of people dining outside needing refills before the waitress can get back to them, or people waiting for a table who want a drink while they wait. Plus they do a swift carry out business, which is picked up from the bar. I’ve never understood that, you’d think it would be more convenient to be at the hostess stand. But I guess they don’t want another tray to count, as well as one that close to the front door. But as I was saying, in the corner, I’m left alone, just like I like it.
By the time I get to my perch, it’s a quarter after 5. Early in the evening like that, you’ll see older couples. Retired and still able to go, well off enough they can eat out a few times a week. As the evening wears on, it’s mostly young families. It’s amusing- with one child, the couple will be loaded down with equipment and bags. With two children, they look like they’ve braved a war just to make it in the doors with all bodies and limbs attached. One twenty-something rotund female waddled in with a car carrier slung over her arm, looking like she’d spent her day stirring soup in the laundry room. Her shirt read “Thicka than a snicka” in sparkly script. 🤢 really? I looked at her husband. He seemed unassuming and it was obvious she wore the pants and dared him to comment on her wardrobe choice. I cocked an eyebrow thinking, you’re proud of your wife, are ya? I watched a statuesque blonde woman picking up a to-go order. I wondered if she used to be a model, or if she was into basketball. Could have gone either way, in my estimation. People celebrating entrance and exit exams, birthdays, anniversaries. I don’t see a lot of couples my age. And the people at the bar tend to be young, less than thirty, or over 55. They are all exclusively devoted to their phones. I sighed. I wish it was like Cheers.

So I had my drink (from the holiday menu: a spicy pear martini, just our regular pear martini with a kick), I was on my favorite perch, and I was watching people. The lady on the nearest corner, a regular I recognized, asked me how my drink was. She’s one of the few who only resorts to her phone when there’s absolutely no one to talk to. She plays trivia on the nights they have it. She put $5 on my tab one night because I gave her a few right answers.
“Very good,” I brightened. “I’m quite content.”
“You look it!”
And there it is, the truth, in all its shining glory.
I love it when people tell me that, when they notice.
She went back to trying to engage the man on the corner who was waiting on his call in order. She gets a sweet tea, and the largest beer, and nurses on the beer all night. She’s married, and her husband has been sitting right beside her before, playing on his tablet. Odd ducks, but it takes all kinds, I reckon. He was not in evidence tonight, and I was a bit surprised when the guy in the corner got his food, then requested another beer and kept talking to her. Supposedly he is a computer programmer. You never know around here, but I heard him say Commodore 65. Maybe he watches Big Bang Theory, too.

Kay joined me, all smiles, and had what I was having, as is her tendency because she is unable to make a decision when under pressure. As is her custom, she made Erica pick her second drink.
“We do this every time,” she said good naturedly.
“I know, I know!!”
I think she wound up with a Chardonnay. I can’t switch to those after having something good. Unless I’m wanting to quit for the night and get a case of heartburn, to boot.

It started slowing down once all the pick up orders abated. We chatted with Erica some. She’d ha a long week and was ready for her days off. We told her that the main reason we like Blackhorse so much, and is our preferred watering hole, is because of her. She’s always on point with her drink suggestions, she doesn’t let us run out, she has a sixth sense of when we need something. We hope the manager knows how valuable she is. She gave a bit of a small sideways smile and said she thought they did. I remarked that she’d been here a long time, I remember she wore a mask during Covid. And she pulled it down a lot, so I thought I knew where she stood on that. She said she started the week after they opened, and the rule was you had to wear a mask if you didn’t get vaccinated. I like her even better now. I think it’s important to tell people how you feel about them, no matter how small a role you think they’re playing in your life. It’s how you get to know people, and it builds a trust. Like Kay said, a good bartender is important. As ladies who often travel alone, bartenders are invaluable. They watch out for their customers, especially single ladies. If I were there alone, and I skipped out on my bill, I like to think she’d know something was terribly wrong and could give a good description to the police. It’s things like that.

We left a few minutes till nine. The weathermen were hollering snow, and it was definitely cold enough, so we wanted to be snug at home before anything started. It sort of misty rained on me the whole way home and when I looked at the radar, Seymour was right on the line of snow. Oh well. I wasn’t missing it. No doubt we’d have plenty of other opportunities.

It’s good to have friends and it’s good to get out, and it’s good to know your limits on liquor and everything else.

With love from Appalachia,
~Amy

I’ve said it before, but it seems to always resurface: it’s funny who remains in your life. It’s never the ones you would think.
Take, for instance, John Alan. I would have bet you a dollar to a doughnut that I would have stayed friends with his ex wife much longer than I would have him. That’s just how life works, right?
The other example, and what was proven again this morning, was some of my customers for whom I still serve as go-to. One called me just after eight, for his neighbor, who is having issues with destructive beavers. I couldn’t help him, but I was able to refer him to TWRA.
The other customer I’m referring to is Wayne Loveday. Allow me to tell you the history.

So, first of all, I’m talking about “little Wayne”, the schoolteacher, not my former chairman. Since I attended Seymour, and our FFA chapter wasn’t very active, I didn’t know who he was when I went to work at Co-op. He’d come tromping through in his faded Carhartt coveralls, faded to fawn, with the insulation puffing out from barbed wire tears in the duck fabric. They’d also be splattered in cow excrement and mud. This was before Muck brand boots, we all just had those rubber ones that came halfway up your shin and kept your toes frosty cold. He’d be bent at the waist, he was walking so fast. I tried to greet customers if I was working the front counter, and most would simply acknowledge me by looking my way. But not Wayne. It was like he was actively avoiding any kind of contact.
In my naivety, I would think, “He must be a really busy man!”
Hazel could occasionally be depended on to give me an honest appraisal of whoever was being a snot that day. She didn’t have much use for him. But Hazel was a pretty slow cashier if it came to cattle feed, so he was probably short with her.
After a time, I started working the back counter some, also known as the “farm” counter. And this is where I would have my first interaction with Mr. Loveday.
It did not go well. I don’t remember the particulars, but I think I wasn’t fast enough to suit him. But I’d rather be slow and get it right than rush to suit him and the order be wrong and then he really have something to complain about.
He preferred to deal with Tuletta, and after just once or twice in his presence, I learned to prefer that, too.
And so it went.
But as it goes, one day he had no choice. I was the only one there. This happens to all of them eventually. You get stuck with the new girl.
It also happened that I was dating one of his former students, one he actually liked, because he helped him in hay. So I was suddenly everywhere he looked, like it or not. And would you know, that between my sparkling personality and eagerness to please, I eventually won him over? So much so that I became his requested salesperson. He called me about new products, sales, and with general questions. Such a turnaround from the sourpuss I started with. Eventually he began asking if I was coming to watch this cattle show or that. He would occasionally send Merry Christmas and Happy Easter texts.
Funny.
So me and Mr. Loveday have stayed close all these years. He even brought his beloved Australian Shepherd, Adele, by Stanley Fencing one summer day just to visit. We’ve stayed in touch by sharing cow and dog pictures. I have two heifers named after me: Amelia and Amy. He drops by the office sometimes unexpectedly, and usually needs help with his phone. I am the last person who needs to be technical support, but here we are. I guess I’m the handiest one.
Which brings us to today. A few months ago, he swung by needing help on ordering a sandwich from the Subway app. He said I needed to get the app, they run specials all the time. I told him I didn’t much care for Subway after having Publix. But he was not to be swayed.
Every time I’ve talked to him since, he’s always sure to inform me of the latest deal from Subway. I can’t get him to branch out. He’s been offering to take me to lunch for some time. Yesterday we were all set when the Xerox guy showed up. But it worked out better for today, anyway. After a glitch on how to best order it (again, Wayne isn’t great on the way apps work), we designated a time to meet.

And you know what? It was fun! Turns out they were running the in-store special at $6.99, same as the app, so all that aggravation for nothing. That’s ok, though. It makes for a good story. He got the sweet onion chicken teriyaki, which I like, too, but didn’t want to be a copycat, and I got the new garlic roast beef. It was very delicious. I updated him on Emily, whom he’d had in school- she ADORED him. From our messages: “I gave him a buffalo bills coat for Christmas my freshman year. Not because he liked the team but because I got such a good deal I knew he would appreciate the bargain lol. Plus it was real plush and warm and thought he’d like that when he was out in the cold feeding cattle” me: “I REMEMBER THAT COAT!!!!!!!! He wore it into the Co-op sometimes!!!” Em: “It was bought in 1990. 🤣 He was my very favorite teacher in high school but he wasn’t very organized. I had 5 different classes under him and there would be YEARS go by that he didn’t even put any grades down in his grade book. Then again, some of his classes we didn’t open a book or write anything down. He was the best to teach ya how to grow stuff though” And that right there, that is a TEACHER. Focused on the importance of what mattered. I guess he awarded grades on attitude and aptitude. “Looking back, I don’t see how he had time to run his cattle empire, teach, do all the greenhouse sales, keep up with basketball, and flip houses. That’s a lot for one person.”

As the day wore on, the weather got a lot more spooky. I left my windows down when I got back from lunch, but when I went to the mailbox, I about froze. I was glad I had my sweater and scarf to bundle up in. Some chick called at nearly four o’clock, and have you ever instantly hated someone just by the way they talk? She wasn’t even a Yankee. It was just that high pitched put-on wannabe Valley girl voice. GAG. Just talk NORMAL, you’re dealing with rednecks down here.

Emily and I always talk about books. I think that’s one of the things that initially cemented our friendship, after the talk of dogs and goats wore thin. (Her dog and my goat had the same exact collar, purple and green with daisies; my goat was named Daisy). So she tells me that when her cousin was little she bought her books from a used bookstore. She’d lay a cherry blossom sachet on them for a few days before she gave them to her so they always smelled nice. She wants to do that for her kids now. Isn’t that the sweetest?? Her sister liked to read too so in her books she used the orange clove scent as a variation. It’s the little things in life, truly. I’ll never be extra. And I like the smell of old books, but that really was the nicest thing. She said she discovered it by accident when she was working at Kirklands. She always had a book laying around and invariably it would wind up with a sachet on top of it. Books take on scents very easily, she told me. I guess my books here probably smell like bacon…or maybe vanilla.

I so wish I had gotten a picture of this blamed dog a minute ago.
I washed the sheets, pillowcases, and fleece blanket together. I wanted to wash the quilt by itself. I brought up that first load, dumped it all on the rug, and pulled out the fitted sheet to wrestle it onto the matress. I hear Chess clicking down the hall; I pay no attention.
I go to get the top sheet and I’ll have you know he’s curled up like a house cat on top of that pile of freshly laundered linens!!!
TURD.
And wouldn’t budge for love or money!!! I had to pull everything out from under him as I needed it and he laid there giving me dirty looks!!!!

Such a brat. So much for fresh sheets. 🙄

Love from Appalachia,

~Amy and the 80# brat

It’s interesting how you can get through pretty much anything. You think you can’t, but you can. And I’ve always said, when people remark on my strength, “What choice did I have?” Suicide just isn’t an option. Suicide is for cowards, in my estimation. Nobody is coming to bail me out. I have a few friends that I could ask for money, and I know my aunt would help me out if it came right down to it, but I guess I have too much pride. I was raised by my Grandmother, and she certainly never backed down. I won’t either. I will only be strung along for so long, and I won’t be abused in any form or fashion. I refuse to be labeled an option, and there is no way I will stay interested in someone who isn’t madly in love with me. Why do women want to stay saddled to a man who doesn’t care for them? It makes no sense.
How do I get through the hard times? Well, for the most part, if it’s something I don’t HAVE to think about, I don’t think about it. This is not delusion. Not thinking about problems doesn’t make them go away, but if it’s something that doesn’t necessarily require immediate action, I’m better off trying to get on with life until the sharpness of the pain has abated somewhat and I can make a better decision. Or sometimes the decision will be made for me. You can only fight so long until it’s obvious no matter what you say or do will have any impact whatsoever.
On the worst days you wake up thinking, “Oh no. Not again. Another whole day. I’ll never make it.”
But you have a routine and you stick to it. Even if it just gets you as far as the shower before you cry. The trick is staying busy: clean out a drawer. Call your friends, right down the line. Read a chapter in a book. Whatever. I suggest staying off social media, there ain’t no good to come of scrolling Facebook. And definitely never read comments on news pages. People are full of rage and hate. Pretty soon an hour has gone by, then another. Sometimes you only get ten minutes of quiet in your head, but at least you made it another ten minutes. I used to go to bed thinking, “It’s ok, it’s ok, it’s ok.” Because in that second, it was. I didn’t know what my dreams would bring. I didn’t know what fresh hell would await me tomorrow. But I knew, in that moment, in my bed, with my dog sleeping next to me, I really was okay. If your brain constantly thinks the worst, think of something else. Period. I also don’t recommend thinking the best case scenario, because that’s likely to be a disappointment. Just speaking from experience, here.

Another thing that helps, apart from being busy: always have something to look forward to. Something as simple as lunch with a friend later in the week, drinks with another friend one night, a hair appointment, a scheduled trip to Ulta for some makeup or Belk for a new top to wear out. Maybe even a weekend away. It doesn’t have to be fancy or important, just something that gets you out of the repetitive circles your mind spins in.

You have to look for the glimmers, too. Take for instance yesterday. I supposedly made a friend’s day, but at the same time, I nearly ruined mine. It’s hard to explain. But good things started happening to balance my blues. First, Jake told a funny story about a copperhead crawling in his hunting blind with him while he was hunting in Catoosa over the weekend. Just picturing him going out the back window of that little nylon tent cracked me up. It’s not often Jake makes me laugh. Gag, yes, most certainly.
My old friend Dave also called with a joke. It wasn’t very funny, but I was already in a crummy mood, but I have to say he does try. And you know, it’s funny, after all these years we’re still in each others’ lives, and in a good way. I can depend on him to a point. I would never get the debt repaid, but at least he’s one I can count on. Even though I still wouldn’t blame his wife if she smothered him in his sleep. Talking to him made me realize again things don’t work out like you want them to for a very good reason. I would be a totally different person, had I stayed with him. And thank God I didn’t. He’s so hard.
And of course there was John Alan, calling in a few minutes after eight, as is his custom. He generally gives me something to laugh about, or at least smile.
Charlie came by, and it’s always good to see him. He really is the best landlord. Any time I call him, he gets his handymen right on the way. I mean, just the fact that he always answers the phone is a blessing, honestly. When I told Emily he was here, her response was, “You always speak so highly of him that I imagine him as a perfect cute little grandpa. Short, not fat at all, but rounded a bit in the tummy, and jowls that sag. He wears jeans and flannels in my imagination.” I told her she had him pegged almost exactly, apart from the fact he is pretty tall (to me, anyway, but about everybody is tall in my world), and that I see him in Tennessee shirts more than flannels. But don’t you know when he came in today we was wearing an insulated, hooded flannel shirt!!
And then one of our producers that I always look forward to seeing stopped in. He is perpetually in a good mood, and always has a funny story. He is a retired park ranger, so there is no shortage of stories. He’s definitely a light. I’d hate to see him in bad temper, it would ruin me. His eyes are forever twinkling and you just know he’s happy with his station in life. And why not? He had a career he enjoyed, a perfect cookie cutter family, and he gets to farm and travel at his leisure now. Not too shabby.
Emily tried to give me some incentive too. It’s so nice to have friends that are there for you and support you when you’re down on yourself. I’ve learned that some of my closest and dearest fail at that. They just make you want to laugh. They won’t sit with you while you cry. I guess we need both. Emily’s words were: “You, however, are a delight and can entertain yourself or you have loads of friends to spend time with if you’re feeling extra social.” To which I replied, “I definitely haven’t been a delight much of this year but I am trying my level best not to drain everybody around me and keep my tears to a minimum.” And that’s the truth. No sense in bringing everybody else into this bed I helped make.

I also feel the need to inform you I finally tried Wingstop yesterday. Ambiance is lacking but service is top notch, so friendly and fast AND they held the door for me! It was kind of cold in there, which I didn’t mind. And, maybe best of all, the card reader didn’t ask for a tip which I especially appreciate in a place like that, where they’re just taking your order, not fixing your drink and whatnot.
I had just sat down when my phone rang with a local number I didn’t recognize but it didn’t say spam so I answered. It was some granny lady who said, “Is this Soil Conservation?” And if I was at work I would have said yes. But I had literally just sat down. So I said, “no…” She said, “Oh, she must’ve given me the wrong number…” Who the heck is giving out my cell number?!? So that peeves me. If it was anybody I was close with they would have given me a heads up. Or I would think so, anyway.
I was waiting on my food and there was this construction worker chatting with the guy who took my order. I guess they’re close friends, because when he left, he told him he loved him, and the worker dude said it back. That gave me the warm fuzzies. Not like they were involved, just genuine friendship. I thought it was such a positive, wholesome interaction and I felt blessed to have witnessed it.
They brought my food out in a bag, like I guess they do everybody’s, kinda like Five Guys. I’m not opposed. Less waste and you don’t have to question the cleanliness of the tray. Plus, it ain’t like some extravagant meal.
The wings were on POINT. They were seriously the best I’ve EVER had. Don’t tell Huffy, The fries weren’t too shabby, either. I was very pleased on the whole. Then ol’ dude comes out with a small package and lays it on my table.
“What’s that???” I felt like Scarlett O’Hara in New Orleans on her honeymoon and her eyes widen as they bring out the desserts.
“A brownie.”
“You think I can hold that after eating all this??” I gestured at my pile of bones and diminishing mountain of fries.
“Well, no, but you can take it and have it later.”
He kept calling me sweetie. I didn’t mind. I need all the petting I can get. I’m feeling old and ugly.
So. Five stars to Wingstop in Sevierville. Tell them the girl who ate everything sent you.
(p.s. That brownie was 49 carbs!!!!! I ate it in two sittings)

I hate to count this as a glimmer, but it did work out to my benefit. While I was at lunch, one of our producer’s farm managers called here and gave Jake a cussing. (This is not unusual, this guy is a COMPLETE jerk 99% of the time) Jake didn’t deserve it, nobody does, he was yelling at us because he’s behind on his project and nobody told him. Umm. We’d contact him before he’s in violation of his contract, but also, the owner is the one who should be communicating project goals, not us. Anyway. Glad I missed that.
Also, another producer came in to sign his CSP so Jake actually had to work while I was gone!! UPS also came by, but he thought it was me coming back in, so he didn’t even come out of his office. I’m telling you, the boy needs to open his blinds, at the least. He’s gonna get carried off or his throat slashed. I don’t like him, but I don’t want him kilt. Especially not here. Imagine the paperwork! And, I’d probably be labeled a #1 suspect.

But back to the mundane at home, laundry and some tears, since I didn’t need to look brave anymore. And I could think of what could have been. But such is life. I know that things often look better after a good night’s sleep.

So today was definitely looking up. Jake was in Knoxville. I fixed breakfast. I talked to JA. I messaged my thankfuls with Emily, who has now included “Good morning” in foreign languages as her standard greeting. She also typically includes some history about the country, and whether it would be a nice place to live. She is also very good about telling me how much of the country speaks English in case I ever want to travel there. She knows I freak out about not being able to communicate. That (and finances) are what keep me from seeing Paris and Germany. So it’s nice she thinks to do that for me. It’s the little things.

It was about 11 and I was perusing my training manual, considering getting it in order in case I have an untimely death, when this little SUV whips into the handicap spot. There were two other open spaces but a little further away. My interest is piqued. I attempt to watch the driver, who appears to be playing on his phone. I’m trying to figure out who it is. A stranger gets out. He looks like an accountant. Shit. He comes in on a fog of cologne, introduces himself as Drew, and says he’s here to set up our printer. He tells me this process will take 2-3 hours.
I remain silent a beat, then pointedly look at the clock and I’m like, “I appreciate you showing up right here at lunch.” A bit haughty, sure, but don’t it just figure?? A Jake Free Day and here this gomer is.
He’s like, “That’s what it’s scheduled for….did you not know?”
“I thought the printer delivery was scheduled for today, but it showed up last Wednesday first thing. I wasn’t sure WHAT to expect today, but no, they didn’t give us a specific time.”
“Do you want to reschedule?”
“No, let’s get it over with.” I so wish this guy was Robin’s husband. He retired from Xerox in 2020. The normal guy we got was just as weird, but at least he knew Jerry so we could talk about him. He just took a call from somebody and was very short with them. I just know he’s gonna go postal while he’s here. There’s always some issue. So much for my peaceful day. This makes me CRAZY. I HATE being the responsible one. And my head is hurting from his cologne.
I decide to text Addison and make him feel bad for not being here. Since, you know, he’s the big dog in charge and had gotten all the correspondence about installation to begin with.
His solution was to send Jake. Like compounding the problem would help! Lord, help me.

So he got to be slightly more normal as the day wore on. Not a lot, mind you. And the cologne only seemed to intensify in these close quarters. My eyes watered a little!!! I had to get Matt to troubleshoot a few things, but we accomplished goals set my Xerox. It took three hours exactly, the majority spent waiting on his people. You could tell he thinks he’s really something, because whenever people called, he’d tell them he was “on a call, in a federal office, working on a government contract fulfillment”. Hahaaha, as I sat here in my sweatshirt and wild hair. Yeah, we’re truly hoity toity up in this office.
Supposedly he worked for the Department of Treasury in DC and that’s where he was on 9/11. He didn’t strike me as the fabricating type, and he was just peculiar enough that I thought it might actually be true.

Salmon patties, pinto beans, and au gratin potatoes for supper. My milk expired October 28th but I smelled it (no smell), then tasted it, and it seemed fine to me. So I used it. I guess I keep my door closed enough that the temperature rarely fluctuates so it keeps better. I know Lisa’s was always bad before the best by date, but I’ve seen her and the boys stand there with it open for minutes on end. And her and her Mom both were bad about leaving it open while they fixed a sandwich or whatever. That makes me almost as crazy as people who run water while they’re not actively using the water (my aunt). I guess it’s my conservation heart but also I know it’s because IT COSTS MONEY!!!

At any rate, another day done. It’ll be the new year before I can turn around and what do I have to show for it?
A lot of loss, that’s what.
Including weight loss, though, to put a positive spin on things!! I’ve lost almost 15 pounds this year. I haven’t tried, apart from being more AWARE of what I’m eating. I think I’m consuming more cokes and Mountain Dew than I have in the last few years, but definitely less fast food on the whole. So it adds up!! My jeans sure do fit better, I know that. And if there’s nothing else to be said of this one life we get, well, at least I can say I never lied to myself.

I woke up later than expected, but not late by anybody’s standards (7 am). I’m glad I rest just as good at Kevin’s as I do at home. Probably more so, since I don’t have Chester to worry about. Oh, Chester! I sure did hope he was doing ok, and not cold. Surely he’d be fine. He has plenty of fur. Lord knows I vacuum up enough to make a quilt every week.
I could hear Kevin puttering around, and I definitely smelled coffee. I dashed off my morning thankfuls to Emily before ever getting out of bed. I had a feeling it would be game on as soon as I showed my face.

But I was wrong. We had a slower start than yesterday, probably because we were tired. And really, it was Sunday, so we shouldn’t break a sweat anyway. I’d had to go cool off on the porch a couple of times the night before. But we must carry on and get this village knocked out, so all he’d like was above the china cabinet and oh yeah, all the lights and greenery outside. But that’s what Russell and his dad were for, amirite? Especially since it had been determined Russell had merely sprung some muscle in his arm in the accident yesterday, not dislocated it, as he had thought.
But I know all about those injuries that you can’t see, and how much they hurt, so I wasn’t putting too much stock into how much he’d be able to help.

At any rate, today I was allowed to boil my own egg and toast my own bread. It’s nice not to be thought of as a guest, honestly. Every time I locate my own spatula or whatever, I think back to my orientation tour in December of 2021, when I was a stand in for my Uncle Dale. Of course, he wouldn’t dream of waiting on himself, oh no, not when Brenda and Kevin were there to do it.
I see him grinning that gap toothed smile at me now.

So we piddled around and fixed what we fixed for our breakfast, bickering about who put the strawberry jam up before the other was done using it, and our typical sibling ribbing, then settled into our respective furniture. Kevin knows I watch exactly zero TV, apart from Friends reruns and Yellowstone, so he surfed through his Netflix offerings, giving me a briefing on each show. The only thing that appealed to me was a sitcom called Ghosts. He started it on the most recent episode and I giggled my way through it. The premise is, if you’re not familiar, of this young couple inherits this house from a distant relative. It needs a lot of renovation. While they’re working on it, the wife falls down the stairs and suffers a head injury. She recuperates, but it leaves her with the ability to see ghosts, which the house is full of. One is a Viking, one is a hippie who was mauled by a bear at Woodstock, so she is left in a state of perpetually stoned. One is her great-great-great grandmother, one is a Boy Scout instructor, one is a black jazz singer from prohibition days, another is an Indian, a prep school dude who wears no pants the entire show, Revolutionary War soldiers, then there are the cholera patients in the basement. I don’t know who the writers are, but this makes for some bizarre storylines.
When they get free of the ties of this world, and go to Heaven, the other ghosts call it “Sucked off”. The husband can’t see or hear the ghosts, so the ghosts communicate with him through his wife. They play Dungeons and Dragons together. It really is hilarious. I recommend it if you’re looking for something brainless to enjoy and occupy your mind.

I looked up and it was almost 2:00. “Geez, no wonder people are addicted to TV!! I have to GO!!” I hadn’t even packed or stripped my bed yet.
So commenced that flurry of activity. And I had to eat my leftovers from last night. Kevin had been existing on Nilla wafers and peanut butter. I think he also had toast and more pumpkin roll this morning. Straight carbs. Whereas me, I try to eat vegetables and meat and cut back on bread and I still gain ten pounds. We’re not even gonna mention all the peach rings he consumed between Manard’s and Tra Di Noi Ristorante….

We stood at the door and exchanged a big hug. “I had a good time,” I told him honestly, and finding I was a bit surprised about it. I didn’t really expect to, since we didn’t have any big activities planned, and we didn’t do a bunch of food prep and cooking. And, you know, my overall pall that has followed me like a cloud of gloom over my head for months now.
“I did too,” he said. And I believed him. Maybe it’s just what we needed: me and him. I found it odd Scarlett never showed up, and that Jeff called twice yesterday but Kevin never offered any information of who his houseguest was, when Jeff was clearly fishing. Maybe that’s why. I have a friend like that. The harder she pushes for information, the more closed off I become. And she wonders why. And I truly don’t think it’s out of nosiness. I think she genuinely cares. But she’s one of those I suspect of having a secret life. While I have no desire to learn of her secrets, how is it fair for me to divulge all mine? It’s like, “Put all your trust in me, you’re safe to tell me anything….but I don’t feel like I can trust you with mine.” It’s uneven footing and it’s unfair.

But anyway. Four hours, me and the pavement. It was a beautiful, sunshine filled afternoon, and I was thankful. I believe an open sunroof and Enter Sandman will cure most ails.
I wound my way down 231 and this time, fortunately, I remembered the cutoff on 70 to avoid downtown Lebanon. I stopped for fuel and to teetee so I could get on down the interstate without stopping again.

I was glad to pass some guys who had been hunting. They were traveling as a convoy, two or three trucks pulling side by sides and four wheelers. They had killed some deer and had the heads arranged so I could admire the racks. I grinned ear to ear, thinking of my Uncle, who always tried to hide his so the “EPA won’t get called on me” (longstanding joke) but one year they’d shot like, eight, and they had all frozen, so they just had to do the best they could loading them. But he did try to be considerate to all the non hunters out there and people who think their meat comes from a grocery store. But me? I tooted my horn, rolled my window down, and gave them all a hearty thumbs up. It makes me happy that people hunt. I wish we had more skilled hunters, because we’re still overpopulated, but anyway, they’re trying.

I made it home at 6:30, with no true close calls for a change. Chester had actually eaten!!! I couldn’t believe it. So maybe I won’t have to be so dependent on Angela in the future. That’s always good. I gave him his toys from Uncle Kevin and took video to send. The Play-Doh guy never had a chance. He was demolished within minutes. The other one is holding up marginally better. He may make it a few days.
It’s good to have a dog to come home to. If you’ve got a dog, you’ve always got someone who is unequivocally glad to see you and loves you without condition. People aren’t that way. I will always have a dog, because dogs you can count on. And dogs won’t point out all the ways you have failed.
Dogs just love.