Out my window, I gaze upon a church, a pink house, an alarming number of squirrels, and a yard that is often in need of a cut. I count the rabbits that frolic, and pray the stray cats aren’t nearby. I keep a close watch on the weather, because I seem to serve as the local weatherman, and look for my buddy, the black lab, that lives two doors down. I can’t complain about the temperature yet, we’re hovering at a stable 73°. Pollen is present, but it’s raining frequently enough to keep it beat down. The redbuds are in full bloom, the dogwoods are just beginning, and the daffodils are quickly expiring. The birds sing all day long. It’s quiet, for the most part.
I’m near the library, and the school, and the police station. It feels safe in my cozy space. It’s not a town where many walk, but I do. Not necessarily to get anywhere in particular, just to enjoy the day while I can. Away from my backyard where I look out at a church, a pink house, and a multitude of squirrels. I go to see the cherry tree, and the red tulips down the road, and the old man at the corner sitting in his lawn chair with his wooden cane and mesh back hat. He always speaks and remarks upon the weather.
There goes a rabbit.
When the phone rings, it startles me from my reverie, even though the ring is now melodic.
There are forms to be filled out, calls to make, and appointments to schedule. But I’d rather sit and listen to the birds and count the rabbits and watch the rain. It’s so pleasant to be in a place where you can look out at the world and maybe daydream just a minute about the lives going on in the neighboring historic houses. Or maybe their lives, right here, a hundred years ago. Maybe not much has changed, other than the sheer number of people going places fast. Maybe if they would take a minute to reflect, they would see that this is still a special place, filled with people who appreciate the beauty of the everyday.
I have taken up a stranger for my Lent today. So therefore I had to set my own sacrifice. For the day, I chose to face challenges.
My first challenge was getting out of bed and without hitting snooze. I used to be really good about that, getting up right away. But I’ve progressed to a more slug-like existence in recent years. My second challenge was opening mail. I hate going to the mailbox. First of all, it’s dangerous on my road! Second of all, I rarely get anything fun. Just a bunch of crap. Thirdly, there are spiders. But to be honest, I still hate email worse. There aren’t even spiders! And it’s not dangerous, other than I will be presented with lots of ways to spend money. I usually don’t even bother opening it. It languishes in my inbox for all eternity. Right now I’m sitting on 7,723 unopened items. That’s just one of my accounts.
Anyway. Today I’m praying for a mother of a child she birthed very recently, prematurely, and lost quickly. Is there a greater pain? I doubt it.
Lord, we don’t know the reason. It may not be revealed in this lifetime. All we know is the heartache of losing someone that wasn’t ever ours
I didn’t hit snooze. I thought, if that lady can get up and face this day, I shouldn’t have the slightest problem. I did open my
Don’t let things get you down. It’s so easy to feel overwhelmed. Just conquer one thing a day. Make a list and mark it off. You’ll get there. You’ll get there. I have had days where my list looked like this:
- Make bed
- Take shower
- Go to Post Office
- Make
dentist appointment - Finish book
- Put pork chops in crockpot 1:00
- Weed flowerbeds
- Dust
- Vacuum
- Clorox shower
- Clean makeup brushes
- Do laundry
Not too strenuous, right? Well, maybe not. But you put the easy stuff on there to get you motivated to knock out the dreaded tasks. Notice “delete 1000 emails” isn’t listed. I don’t need that staring me in the face.
Well, this is no self-help column, and I’m certainly not in a place to be dispensing advice, but just know that we all have our dark days filled with worry and a sense we can’t push on, what’s the use? And that’s when you count your blessings and compare yourself to someone who just lost a baby. Or their home in a fire. Or someone who lives in poverty in a third world country or just down the road under a bridge. Get some perspective, wallow for a day if you must, then get the heck up and go do something. It’s easier if the sun is shining, I will say that. I wish y’all the very best.
Love from Appalachia,
Amy xoxo
The Montgomery Vindicator was a newspaper ran out of Sevierville, Tennessee from the late
My intention when I set out on this particular blogging journey was to tell you that bit, and then turn it into several stories, the first being a fictional newspaper story, then in recurring posts, the Montgomery Vindicator being the name of a firearm passed down from generation to generation since the Texas Revolution, then whatever else came to mind. Perhaps a Judge whose nickname was The Vindicator. Or something.
I first learned about the Vindicator during a side conversation at
Okay, okay, any history. Except maybe China’s or something.
But lemme tell you, I have been POSITIVELY CAPTIVATED by the obituaries posted by the newspaper.
June 28th, 1899
Jones — The wife of Will Jones, of Henry’s X Roads, died Monday morning, June 25th.
That’s pretty sorry. It doesn’t even list her first name or her birthday. When did she marry Will Jones? Was she a mother? How many children? What were their names? Where did they live? What church did she attend? Was she sick? I mean, current obituaries do a better job than this. Why was this particular obituary listed online for posterity? I thought they only chose the juicy ones, like below.
Miss Martha Charlotte Emert died at the residence of her mother, Mrs. Sarah Emert on Middle Creek, Thursday evening June 8th, 1899, at 4 o’clock p.m. age 22 years, 11 months and 15 days. For about two years Martha had been in very delicate health, but not until very recently had her afflictions reached such a stage as to alarm her friends. Martha was the pride of her father’s
That is all copied and pasted from the site, so I don’t know whether the person who transcribed it made the errors or if that’s how it was printed. But it is so enthralling, I am willing to overlook it. I like how they refer to the city of Sevierville as “this place”. Several obituaries stated “Five miles southwest of this place” or whatnot. I love the details. I wish more were written like this today. I think I’ll go ahead and get mine ready so all Atchley’s has to do is fill in the blanks. No mundane announcement for me! And no typos! We surely can’t have that. I would roll in my grave. Anyway, I found all 34 pages riveting. Many of them made me laugh, for which I immediately felt guilty. Like this one:
July 27, 1898 Sudden Death. Monday morning about nine o’clock, Addie Dixon, wife of Luther M. Dixon, of Harrisburg, while talking to her mother, Mrs. Mary Robertson, suddenly died. She was somewhat indisposed, but was not considered dangerous. Her husband had gone to his work and her brother, M. C. Robertson, had gone to the woods to kill her a squirrel. She began to feel queer and commenced describing her feelings to her mother, but before she could complete description, she was dead. She and her husband had been married less than a year and seemed to be starting happily and successfully on life’s journey. The young husband, the aged mother and admiring brothers and sisters have our sympathies. She was interred Tuesday at 10 a.m., with appropriate ceremonies.
We don’t know how old she was, but we know her brother wanted squirrel stew for lunch. And I reckon “considered dangerous” doesn’t mean combative, more likely contagious.
But they’re so wonderful!!! I was absolutely captivated and ending up sending many out to friends that I thought
https://www.newspapers.com/clip/12193899/knife_fight_near_scene_of_pickens/
I am telling you, I have thoroughly enjoyed reading all this stuff. I feel like my head is a big
Anyway, Amber suggested I write their stories
These thirty four pages could be the start of my magnum opus. I strongly encourage you to take a read, even if you just select one of the options and read a page. But I warn you: you’ll be totally addicted and up all night.
Enter at your own risk…. http://sevier.tngenealogy.net/research-assistance/records-resources/27-newspapers-a-publications/10-some-death-notices-from-the-montgomery-vindicator-1897-1901?showall=1&limitstart=
I’m sitting on my couch, hungry. I can barely concentrate to type. It’s not even that I’m hungry, per se. I have a craving…lots of cravings…for cheese. For ice cream. Ice cream sandwiches, to be particular. I haven’t had an ice cream sandwich in years. Haven’t even thought of them…but….oh….how dreamy one would be right now.
I’m driving myself crazy. Of course I would want all the things I can’t have right now. I’m repeating no dairy day. The person I’m praying for didn’t have a request, so I thought this would be a good a time as any to re-do this sacrifice. I was better prepared this time around. I had purchased an almond milk mocha Starbucks frappucino in lieu of my regular milk based one. I thought it would be okay. That’s what I get for thinking.
It tasted like watered down chalk dust with a tablespoon of the cocoa baking powder stirred in for “flavor”.
It was so bad, I poured out half of it. $2 down the drain.
Lunch was better. I had all the fixin’s for a loaded salad with Italian dressing, just hold the cheese. I didn’t miss the cheese, but I was hungry an hour later. I think it’s in my mind.
Supper was at library board. Evidently the rule of thumb for lactose intolerant folks is “when in doubt, assume that it will kill you. If it looks creamy at all, it’s a no.”
Corn pudding is out, then. And the salad, with its cheese throughout. I figured the green beans were safe, and I chanced it with the chicken and stuffing. Nobody uses butter in catering, it’s too expensive.
This day has been no fun at all. But, as usual, it’s given me a new perspective, admiration, and respect for those who have to do without. Life is hard enough without food allergies. Fortunately, cows have always been good to me.
But this ain’t about me and all the things I wish I could eat. It’s after nine, I can go to bed soon and set my alarm for 12:01 and go scarf some cheese. Or I can wait like a normal person and buy me an ice cream sandwich…or box of ice cream sandwiches…on my way into work in the morning. Perfectly reasonable behavior, I say.
I do have good news to share. It will probably seem like small potatoes/ first world problem, but I was pleased. So, I like Belk. They’re conveniently located in town so I can swing over there anytime instead of driving into Knoxville for makeup and whatnot. I have credit with them, and ever so often they send me “Belk Bucks”. There’s no limitations on what you can apply them towards, besides payment on your account. I’ve been out of eyeliner for a week and have been putting off going over for no good reason at all, other than I didn’t want to. I decided today would be my day before library board. I look at my Belk Bucks. It expired yesterday.
Grrrrrrr.
This would be $10.00 I was wasting, a total of $12 for the day when you count my nasty breakfast drink. I’m not okay with that. Perhaps they would honor it since it was just one day. But what if they wouldn’t? Did I have the gall to request the store manager? I really like my Clinique girls! I have to see them regularly, and I don’t want to make them uncomfortable. This would be akin to fighting with your pharmacist. I don’t wanna….but I also don’t want to miss out on $10.00 I guess I could try to use it online but I thought my chances would be better improved in person. I can be quite winsome, when I want to be.
So I marched in like I was taking charge (Baker says I always look like high drama. We’ve reckoned it’s a combination of the hair, glasses, and shoes–and boy, did I have on the right shoes!) and strode up to the white counter. A lady from perfume sales hustled over. I pointed out my eyeliner and swooned over the lipsticks while she ferreted it out. Lo and behold, it’s bonus days, and I can never turn that down, so I picked me out a new lipstick.
Out of stock.
I picked me out another’n.
Out of stock.
Third time’s a charm, right?
Right.
And really, they’re all fairly close in color, so it’s fine.
She scanned my coupon and never said a word. I nearly squealed with delight. I forget, Belk ain’t Proffitt’s. Ol’ hoity toity department store that they were. Yes, it’s fifteen years later and I’m still bitter.
So that’s all well and good. After all that, and I was still the first one at board, believe it or not. I could barely believe it, myself. But there were witnesses!
Board was a little livelier than usual, which was also nice.
Onto my prayers.
I have some neighbors. They’re not right next door, they’re just over the hill. I met them at the Co-op (I’m sure y’all are wondering how I meet new people now. The answer is I don’t) and we’ve just had this bond ever since. I send them a postcard when I go on vacation because I can remember their address as well as my own. They keep me in lettuce, cucumbers, and tomatoes all summer, while I provide them with….entertainment, I suppose. They are history buffs, and have some really interesting stories about Trundles Crossroads. That is, Seymour. Over the years Mary has also shared several stories about her mother’s privileged upbringing in Nashville. She was a true Southern Belle. I could just envision her mother as a debutante, out on the veranda with her tea and parasol, letting the boys entertain her. How nice…
This Southern Belle life continued through adulthood, where she became an avid gardener and was active in several garden clubs and served on many advisory boards for historical structures, characteristic of many true Southern ladies. She lived a life I hope to someday aspire to. But a decade ago, she fell and hit her head and that was the beginning of her dementia. She lived out the remainder of her life at a prestigious nursing home, where she was well attended to.
I understand that losing your mother is traumatizing, no matter what age you are, or she is, regardless of how sick or frail she was. Losing your momma is hard, hard stuff.
So my thoughts and prayers have been for Mary on this day, and for several days after I got the news. I consider it a massive loss that I never knew this woman, I would have dearly loved chatting with her and recording her stories of a life I can only dream about.
Lord I’m grateful you’ve gained a new angel, especially one that has an educated Southern accent. But I know my friend’s heart hurts to the point of bursting. I don’t know how you take news that your momma has passed and not fall to your knees. And she may have. I pray for dear Mary, that she remembers all the sweet memories she made with her mother. I pray that her heart will heal with each passing day, and that she knows you are there with her. I ask you to watch over her and guide her heart to grieve openly and to seek what blessings she can during the dark times. Again, I’m struck without knowing the right words to pray but I don’t want her to hurt. I want her to remember that her mother is with you now, and that is Home. May her horses remain her outlet, and keep her safe as I know she enjoys these lovely days from the backs of a few of them. May you bless her and keep her. Thank you for placing this couple in my life. Thank you for the gift of living in Tennessee. Thank you for the grass at our feet, wind at our backs, and the graceful beauty that horses represent. In these things I pray. Amen.
I know several women, and men, who have lost their mothers. I believe it leaves a hole, always and forever. Hopefully you will eventually smile when you remember, and look for her in the birds or the breeze or the sweet smell of magnolias. Maybe you just missed her, looking over your shoulder as you attached your diamond earrings. Maybe she’ll always be with you, nurturing and loving and being your biggest fan and lifelong ally.
And then there’s today. I’m a little grouchy. Monday has nothing to do with it. My back hurting has a lot to do with it. And a dull headache.
And, you know, the lack of CHOCOLATE.
I didn’t think I was dependent. Well, turns out, I was wrong. I was all prepared to glug my big Starbucks mocha this morning when I thought I might ought to check the label. You know, to be sure.
Cocoa. Huh. Who knew? Where did I think mocha came from, anyway? A mocha plant? I don’t know. So there went that, and I couldn’t have regular coffee, either, because I have that funny chicken creamer that is chocolate flavored. I’ll just glower here with my boring 2% milk, thanks.
I had one million and six people come by work today. Something about Mondays and Fridays. I don’t know. It was deceptively cold out, the wind would flat cut you in two. But oh! It looked so clear and pretty and the sun was shining and it was just enticing you to come out and freeze right to death. Dirty redbud winter. Shame.
But enough about all that. I’m here to pray for my friend. She recently had surgery and has been suffering through some complications with that. I really feel for her, because she is so active and upbeat and one of those people who just shine the light. I so enjoy spending time with her, we never run out of things to talk about. I’m forever thankful she came into my life and has been a never-ending supply of encouragement and solid advice. She is one of those rare people who have actual life experiences to relate to, and not just an off-the-cuff unsolicited opinion giver. She is kind, and as beautiful outside as she is on the inside. She deserves way better than my piddly prayers.
I come to you tonight Lord, thankful for another day on this earth. I thank you for my jobs, my friends, my home, and my health. Not in that order. I thank you for the abundance of food in my old refrigerator that continues to run, which I totally appreciate. I thank you for my dog and my sight. Thank you for all my warm clothes and reliable transportation. Lord, I just want to love and honor you as you see fit. I want to pray for all us sinners, and especially the lost and the infirm. May those who don’t know you
I don’t feel as though I’m doing this sweet couple justice tonight. They pray for me daily. I just want them to know I love them and appreciate them and think of them often.
Again, I ask you if you want me to pray for you, either through my blog or privately, it is my honor. Facebook messenger is the best way to contact me, as I do not check this email often. And I barely glance at my primary emails. Don’t hesitate. Prayer works. It always brings me moments of peace when I know somebody is praying for me and the Lord works on me. Ohhhh…how he works on me!!! I don’t always like that part 😉
Love from a chocolate deprived Applachia,
Amy xoxo
I can’t seem to get my act together. I woke a little late for my taste and had to bounce to get to work on time. Luckily, it’s all of five minutes from the house 🙂 I didn’t have much time for thinking what with all the icing to be done. Food City keeps me hopping, and I like it! My back doesn’t much care for it, though. I don’t know how I stood ten hours a day, five days a week at the Co-op all those years. I remember my feet giving me the devil and being nearly crippled there at the end, but not my back. Never my back.
But I’m older now, and whether or not I like to admit it, heavier, too. It takes a toll. And I’m standing in the same spot virtually all day, and putting pressure through my hands and arms. It’s all connected, according to my yoga guru. I guess it makes sense. I’m just tired.
Around three o’clock I was really starting to hurt and I would have welcomed a fifteen. I didn’t want to ask for
It was only after I was home, back in my pajamas, melting into my couch that I remembered I hadn’t chosen anyone for Lent. I hadn’t prayed, and I hadn’t intentionally fasted anything. Which got me to thinking.
I’ve got several close friends in the nursing field. Bless their hearts. I hear these horror stories about their jobs, how their shift ends at seven but they’re frequently there till ten, charting. How there aren’t enough nurses employed to be staffed as the hospital should be. How they’re ran ragged all day, only pausing for lunch as they chart, chart, chart, between administering meds and answering call buttons and all the other vitals and check ins that occur regularly. They don’t pee all shift sometimes. I can’t even fathom. They must really love their jobs. It’s not for everybody.
And when I say they must love their jobs, I don’t mean where they work. I mean the caregiving aspect, making a real difference. I would feel privileged and safe in the care of any one of them. They are caring and smart and observant. I know that if something is amiss, they will notice and treat accordingly, with swiftness and effectiveness. I feel that when these women are with you, they’re really with you, you know what I mean? I know when I spend time with my girlfriends, they are wholly
I think I should leave her prayer requests private. They are pretty significant, as things go. She is not unhealthy, but there are concerns regarding housing, financing, and her last job. I just want to lift her up in prayer and take her worries away.
For Deuteronomy 31:6 tells us~ Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.
And Joshua 1:5~ No one will be able to stand against you all the days of your life. As I was with Moses, so I will be with you; I will never leave you nor forsake you.
I’m not going to spell out my prayer for her today. I won’t risk slipping. But I love this girl, and she works so hard, and she has a good heart and loves what she does. And so I pray for her. May she be vigilant and kind to her patients, may she bring them peace and comfort in their distress. May others look to her as an example of fine nursing ability. May the powers that be convene to help place her in a dwelling to make a home for the rest of her days and all her life finally fall into place. I pray she cease worrying and lay it at your feet, Lord.
So in honor of my friend, let’s say I gave up comfort during my shift. I didn’t take my last break even though I wanted to and I really needed to. Because if I were in her shoes, a break is a pipe dream most days. I have no pressure on me decorating cakes. It’s one of the many perks. So I can sacrifice a break. And yes, it does feel like cheating, but in my defense, she never texted me back with anything to fast. Probably because she was running her hind end off and thinking, just pray for me and my patients…don’t let anything slip through the cracks. I don’t know how they do it. And I hope I never have to find out. May the good Lord have mercy on all those truly working on the front lines of the healthcare system.
Love from Appalachia,
Amy xoxo
I ain’t got no lies to tell. I didn’t really “do” Lent yesterday. And I didn’t really do it today, either.
I am a lazy slacker.
Yesterday, I started out with good intentions. As is my new custom, before I got out of bed, I concentrated on who my person was. I had her. I prayed. Then I thought…what am I giving up? She never said. Well, I knew it wouldn’t be toilet paper, so I set about my routine activities for the morning. And all I drink is water for about the first hour I’m awake, so I was safe there. I sent her a message and waited for her reply. I knew she wouldn’t give me virtual farming (that would be cruel and unjust) so I went to town on my game. I started a little laundry.
I poured me a giant glass of chocolate milk.
And that’s where I went wrong.
I had just sat my glass down when she answered that I could fast chocolate…or if I wanted to be really hard core: sugar. I wrote back no thanks, I’d done been down that treacherous road once this Holy Season, I would pass on
I have another person in line, and she wasn’t making me give up anything, but I told her I’d fast dairy since I had that cheeseburger by accident on my no dairy day. Again, milk. So that was out. I am still waiting on several people to get back to me with prayers and one I have what she wants me to pray for, but not the sacrifice. I sighed. I guess I could just think something up.
It was then that my belly rumbled and I thought, “I’ll think about this later,” in Scarlett fashion and trundled into the kitchen to fix my customary Saturday brunch omelet. And hash browns. I wasn’t getting carried away doing anything. I’d slept in, in true sloth fashion, and hadn’t gotten in a big hurry to be up and at ’em. Why should I? A gorgeous East Tennessee spring day stretched ahead of me, with dinner and yoga at Baker’s this afternoon.
About the time I sat down with my breakfast to watch a rerun of Big Bang Theory, my phone went to chiming.
“The last ride,” Beth wrote in our group chat. A picture of her kitty, the magnificent Sage, sitting regally in her backseat.
This was disconcerting. Sage has been sick for a couple of months, off and on his food, and being very needy. He’s fifteen. Beth is struggling. I have never known of her taking him on random road trips. Her schnauzer is her ride or die. Sage is the curl up and purr.
We all began typing at once. She was indeed taking him to the vet. For that. Which is very brave, I don’t care who you are. Sage has had the good fortune of supreme health his entire life, and has never had to set paw in an clinic. That also reflects how good of a mom Beth is. She was taking him to LB’s vet, right down the road.
“Want me to come? You don’t have to be brave alone,” I wrote.
“No. It’s ok,” she replied.
I kept thinking, fifteen years. FIFTEEN YEARS. Sure, he’s “just a cat” but when you don’t have a child, your fur babies ARE your babies. It may sound ridiculous to some of you, but I’ll have you know I may not drop Lightning Bug off at school with a lunchbox, but I pat his little head and rub his little ears and look in his sweet brown eyes every day and tell him I love him and I’ll be home as soon as I can. I look after him, making sure he has food, water, and at least two tennis balls nearby. I open the curtains so he can sort of know what time it is. I tell him what I’m doing after work, so he won’t think I’m not coming back. I may not buy him running shoes and soccer lessons, but I read to him and stroke his head before I go to bed. I love my dog. He’s here, he loves me unconditionally, and he never says anything hurtful. He doesn’t lie. He only asks for love. So fifteen years with a cat? Beth was not okay. I knew this. But I also know that she values her personal time, and that she’s strong, and I couldn’t intrude no matter how badly I wanted to, no matter how much I believed she needed me there. It was to my great relief when I offered a second time, she relented.
Out the door I went.
When I got to the office, it was a madhouse as usual. A beautiful springer spaniel sprung around at the end of a faded and frayed purple leash. One of the girls finally got free and asked me what I needed. I told her I was just there for my friend Beth. Her expression immediately softened and she frantically pointed to a door just off the lobby. I was afraid I was too late, but I don’t want to just barge in like the Slim Jim man, either. I gave a couple of soft knocks and entered. Beth sat in a chair in the corner, weeping. In her lap was a soft pink blanket with hearts printed on it. And on the blanket was a beautiful black and white fluffball that I knew to be Sage. With one hand, I rubbed Beth’s back, and with the other, I stroked Sage. Because that’s what you do when you meet a kitty. You reach for their fur, to see if it is as soft as it looks.
It was.
Dr. Biggs had already administered the sleepy time medicine that would put him under so he could feel no pain. Sage was drifting, but I looked into his golden eyes before he went on to his next life. He was Cat Royalty, remaining aloof and dignified to the end. He was in his momma’s lap, and all was right with him. And I prayed.
I cannot write anymore about that.
So all that’s left of Sage for Beth are the memories of a little black and white 
I brought Beth back here with me. It was a beautiful
And so I got Beth situated on the couch with my alpaca blankie that’s dried an ocean of tears, a fresh box of Kleenex, and a cold water. And I resumed my breakfast.
Beth looked at me agape.
“You left your breakfast?” I just kind of raised my eyebrows over my fork. Like, what else would I have done? “Uhh, hang on, I’m right in the middle of my omelet. Can this wait until Sheldon solves string theory and Leonard and Penny get together?”
No. When somebody is parting with their pet of fifteen years, you freaking drop it like it’s hot and go to hold their hand.
After some Sheldon and sugar cookies, Beth was feeling well enough to face the world and we got up enough speed for the wind through the sunroof to dry our tears. We had big plans, as I mentioned before, and the show would go on. It was probably
Tracy’s house is always welcoming. Her dog is non-obtrusive, it isn’t like being here. And there’s room to spread out, although we tend to congregate in the kitchen. After all, that’s where all the action is. And we don’t want to miss out on 
Have I mentioned what a nice day it was? 77 for the high, but it didn’t feel the least bit oppressive, due to a nice breeze. The pollen wasn’t coating everything just yet, and truly, birds were singing as we carried our yoga mats out into her fenced backyard. It was so serene and perfect. And as we breathed in unison, and stretched our arms to the sky, then let them fall–with awareness– I was reminded of monarch butterflies gently flapping their wings. Seriously. It was beyond comprehension how absolutely
Here’s the one we did. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u9LmRtvSkgA
After it concluded, we lay on our backs and watched the clouds. Petey came over for kisses. He even did cobra pose with us.
So, like all good girls’ nights, we shared secrets and laughter and tears. We were missing two things: Rhonda and wine. But I was trying to be good, and had infused strawberry/cucumber water, which was delightfully refreshing.
I believe things happen for a reason. We’ve not had this dinner/ yoga night planned but for a few days. Sage’s final day just happened to coincide. And I’m so glad. I pray that Beth will find peace in time, I pray that she finds a little more every day. I pray for sweet Sophie, too, she’s lost her buddy as well. I hope Beth can focus on what a great life she gave her sweet boy, and how he went knowing exactly how much she loved him.
If only we could all be so lucky.
Soft kitty, warm kitty
Little ball of fur
Happy kitty, sleepy kitty
Purr purr purr....
A year ago, when I took my new job, I began working in conjunction with a girl who’s about my age. I suppose “girl” would be a stretch, as we’re much closer to 40 than 16.
Much, much closer.
We also have the same last name, and almost the same first name. It could be very confusing to people who have never met us. While we maybe even favor each other a little bit, she and I could not be further apart when it comes to personalities. While she plays close to the vest (I still don’t feel like I know her that well, despite all the talking we do), and follows the rules to the letter, y’all know me–if it goes through my head it generally comes out of my mouth. Or at least onto this screen. And rules? Who needs them? I’ll read them after the fact if I need to. One thing we do have in common is being particular. Although she hems and haws about speaking up about the way she prefers things are done, I say “do it like this, or just let me do it”. She’s an excellent, patient teacher. I would really be up a creek without a paddle if she weren’t around to explain things and show me how to navigate. She has a decent sense of humor, which is uncommon in Federal employees. I appreciate her every day. And she tolerates me 🙂
She doesn’t trust Facebook AT ALL, so it floored me when she said I was welcome to use her name. She said nobody knows her, anyway. A few of you do! Of course I’m praying for Amber today.
I never know how to start a prayer. O Heavenly Father doesn’t sound much like me, and Lord is getting a wee bit tiresome. Are You there, God, it’s me, Amy, has been done and I can’t just say hey.
Hi. I guess I can say anything I want to, as long as I’m sincere. And I’m generally pretty earnest when petitioning for my loved ones. I’m here to pray for Amber’s requests tonight, but first I want to thank you for hearing our pleas. I know people are praying for me and I fervently hope that more people are looking to you. Maybe their thoughts are being more directed to you. Maybe I have helped somebody through these posts get their life saved. I wish I could know. I do know that there have been several answered prayers in the last little bit and of course that is always welcome news. I also want to thank you for this day. Spring might be my favorite time now that I’m not up to my neck in fertilizer and baby chicks at the Co-op. And my allergies are becoming manageable. Thanks for that, and thanks for the minds of the developers of generic Zyrtec. Amber’s foremost prayer request is that of her mother, who is struggling as the primary caregiver to her aunt. The aunt has really degraded since she lost her sister a month some-odd ago. It is tough to satisfy the needs of someone who is pretty much bedridden, with their mind slipping to boot. It is impossible to rest. I pray for them both, for the strength and patience her mother must drum up every day after working at her career to come home and care for her aunt. I pray for the aunt, may her soul be at rest after the loss of her little sister. May she not fret and just concentrate on keeping her wits about her. I know she’s ready to come home, Lord. I don’t know that everyone down here is ready for her to go just yet, though. It’s hard to know what to pray in a situation like that, so I just ask that you look at their hearts and give them what they need. I also want to pray for a friend of Larry’s (Larry being Amber’s boyfriend). He found his daddy in comatose form the other day and I know that would be terrifying, especially as the doctors had not settled on a diagnosis last I heard. I pray for you to restore him, and give Jake comfort, and lead him to the right decisions when it comes to healthcare for his father. May he not feel overwhelmed, but properly informed. Amber also asked for prayers for a sweet precious lady we work with. She is having some deeply rooted issues with her mother and sister. It’s hard to see them treat her poorly and shut her out. I don’t know them, but I can’t help but feel they are in the wrong. Could you open their hearts, Lord? And if they are firmly in Satan’s grip, please provide my sweet friend with some comfort. She prays night and day for peace to be restored, and I want you to start with her soul. She is a loving, wonderful somebody and I hate to see her hurting.
We have a producer that is very tightly woven into the farming community who recently got a cancer diagnosis. Our prayers are certainly with him and his family as they work out a plan and treatment. Give them strength. Give them grace. Make them humble enough to ask for help from neighboring farmers as he will most certainly need it to get through the coming seasons. Which reminds me, I should probably call and see what I can do. I can always do SOMETHING. And lastly, another farmer who has been on our minds and hearts for years. He lives high on the hill and his wife has had a steadily degrading case of dementia for some time now. Recently, his son was in a terrible vehicle crash and had a low chance of survival. I hear he’s home and doing much better now, but I’m sure he has a long road ahead of him, as well as an expensive one. My prayers are most definitely with this family. They just need a break. I doubt you approve of the lottery, but it would be hard to find someone who deserved a vacation more than them.
Amber didn’t ask for prayers for herself, but I’m asking for them because she’s one of the sickest people I know. Her stomach gives her the occasional fit, but I’m more concerned with her back. I would like to see
I thank you for my job, Lord, otherwise I would not know Amber and what a caring soul she has to remember all these people. She wasn’t the least bit hesitant to ask for prayers for this list of friends and family. She cares about farmers and agriculture and truly believes in conservation. She is knowledgeable, well spoken, and a trustworthy steward of government funds. She has a strong desire to do the right thing for our producers while protecting and improving water quality. I ask you to protect her and guide her and use her as
Amber likes to torture me with endless, trivial paperwork. I like to torture her, period. So I knew I would be paying for it today with my sacrifice. I knew she would pick some vice I truly love.
And boy, did she.
For about a year now, almost all my spare time has been devoted to this
That’s right.
She took away my farm.
I’ve not missed it as badly as I thought, some of the players in my neighborhood have been getting under my skin lately, but it has crossed my mind on several occasions all the cheese and butter and pies I’m missing out on making. I get it, it’s fake, I have nothing to show for it, per se, but tell me….could you deny developing a farm with animals that dress for the occasion? For pigs that wallow when they need their bacon squeezed out? (Which I find completely fascinating, btw). I have a fishing area where I catch prize trophy fish, lobsters, and ducks in life preservers. I have a town with a spa, theater, gift shop, grocery store, cemetery, and B&B. And a BEACH. I have a zoo with a giraffe (Delilah), elephant (Samson), and hippo (I forget her name, but it’s equally cute). It’s my escape. It’s a blast. I recently acquired a taco machine (to the tune of $700,000) and I’m currently sitting on over a million. I mine diamonds and sell ice cream and other wares in a roadside stand. Doesn’t it sound like FUN??? Yes. Download Hay Day and build your own farm. Look for me- my farm name is The Siren’s Song. I’ll be back to farming tomorrow! 
No farm is complete without pollinators! I have many more bees now.
Pigs ready to be squeezed
All for now.
Love from Appalachia,
Amy xoxo
I sometimes think I don’t deserve the friends I have. Y’all are way too nice to be hanging around riffraff like me. A month or so ago, after Rhonda had met a few members of my extended tribe, she remarked –totally out of the blue– “You have the nicest friends!”
I usually meet the nicest ones through work, where they can’t run and have no choice but to hang out with me. Does that explain it?
I thought so.
Or, I give them money for providing me with a service, so it’s like I’m paying them to be my friend. I’ll name no names, but I bet you’re smiling 🙂 Or, you might just be family and clearly, you have no choice.
So the girl I write about today falls into one of these categories. I’m protecting the innocent by not naming any names. She’s fairly introverted, but she talks to me. We have a similar set of bad nerves and it is therapeutic to share notes. She’s just a small town girl living in what passes for a big city to her. I know it must be hard adapting, moving away from everything you’ve ever known.
So it is my pleasure to pray for her today. Her request was, of course, for her family.
Lord, I want to thank you first for this beautiful and perfect East Tennessee day you created for us. It was absolutely wonderful. I felt like stretching out on the grass in the sun like a big ol fat groundhog and soaking it all in. It was a grand thing to be alive and present here today. Thank you for this day. Thank you for loving us, and letting us love you in our flawed way.
I often question what good can come from bad decisions. Is it to show us what we don’t want after all? Do we always have to find out for ourselves? I pray that you would open a young girl’s mind and heart and have her listen to you and her mother. She’s surrounded by temptation and cannot understand the repercussions of a poor decision. It’s difficult when you’re young and everybody you see is falling into a wasteland of ill-fated life. It looks so tempting because it’s fun! It isn’t hard work like everything else. And nothing truly terrible has presented itself yet. But it’s working like termites beneath the surface of that porcelain skin, ruining the foundation and eating the wholesome parts. Please surround this young lady with a solid group of role models she can look up to and talk to about the things she needs to be aware of. Make her understand the only way to succeed in life is to rise above and work hard. Boys and men can have their place later, but now it’s important to keep your head in your studies and make a way for your future. Drugs are never permissible; they cloud your judgment and lead you down into a hole of overall destruction that is nearly impossible to overcome. Have your fun while you’re young, but keep your eyes on the long term goal. Don’t mess up now and spend the next twenty years regretting all the things you could have done. I also pray for this girl’s brother. I fear she watches him being reckless and sees that he can get away with it, why shouldn’t she? I pray that he wakes up and takes stock of his life. It is my fervent desire that he make some new friends that don’t pressure him to drink to have a good time. Real friends don’t let you drive wasted. Real friends make an effort to see you and have fun without excessive amounts of alcohol. I pray he finds a lucrative career that won’t ruin his strong back. I know he has a musician’s soul- would you use him as a tool, Lord, playing for you and spreading your message? There are some songs on his heart, no doubt. Give him the courage to leave this life that he’s become so passively a part of to pick up new thoughts and organize his time into something to be proud of. He has a gift, let’s see to it that he uses it for good. I pray for him and his sister both, to get back in your house. To remember how they were raised and why they’re so fortunate to have the life they have with a family that loves them and a warm home with plenty of food in the fridge. They gotta get right, Lord. They’re straying.
I also want to say a prayer for her parents, Lord. They struggle more with each passing day. They’re proud, too, too proud to leave their mountain home. She worries day and night for them. Every breath is a battle, every step is an effort. She frets after she visits, careful to listen to the doctor’s instructions. Life is fragile at that age. May they all have peace. I’m not sure how to pray for them, but I don’t want anyone suffering from heartache or bodily pains, either one. I wish to remove the guilt she undoubtedly feels for not being closer, for not being able to do more. I pray for her sister, as well. This is how prayer works, I know. You pray for one person and it makes you think of another and another and another. I know a little about her sister, how she has her own set of problems and nothing comes easy. I just want peace for them all. I pray for her husband, who travels the interstate system all day, every day. It’s just a dangerous world. They have what appears to be a good, strong marriage, and I ask for a hedge of protection around them and their bond to grow even stronger. I long for them to look toward you and each other for guidance and support. Let them join forces in witnessing to their children and serving as an example of a life well lived and abundantly blessed. With a thankful heart, I ask you to bless them more. I thank you for letting me know them. I thank you for her pure heart and sweet demeanor that bestows kindness to everyone in her orbit. May we all love as simply as you love us. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
We’ve all got worries. Any time you love someone you run the risk of losing sleep over them. I don’t know how you parents do it. I’m a coward, that’s why I never birthed no babies.
My dear sweet friend told me to pick my own sacrifice. Since I’m already trying not to cuss {WOW I CUSSED A LOT!! I WAS NO LADY}
So I chose vanity. Hard to believe I’m vain, you say? Well, I AM. I guess there are worse things. But I need to do better. So the first thing I started with were my mirrors. I covered the main two up last night and just shut the door to the other bathroom to remind me not to go in there.
No mirrors means no makeup. Oh, sure, I could have probably managed a dab of mascara and some powder and lipstick, but what was the point? I’m just a mule in horse harness, anyway. (Sorry I’m especially heavy on Gone With the Wind tonight) And, as an added unexpected extra, I decided not to weigh. I weigh every morning and then I groan and roll my eyes and promise to starve myself one day soon. Why do I do it to myself? Because I’m vain, that’s why.
But I did wear jewelry. I have to have a touch of pizzazz. But I opted for one of my understated navy blue striped shirts and old comfortable Levis. Low profile clothes for my newly adopted-for-a-day attitude. As for my hair, well, it probably looked the same as always, I don’t give it the attention it requires any day of the week.
Rick fixed up the bathroom mirror at work for me so I wouldn’t have to close my eyes while I washed my hands. My 8×10 sheet didn’t quite cut the mustard.
It’s a good thing I didn’t have an eyelash incident today. I don’t know what I would have done. I don’t suppose it was that big of a sacrifice, since on average I might see five people a day, but I still did it. I only caught sight of my reflection twice, once in the glass on the door, and once in Maggie’s glossy paint. But I tried not to look. I focused on looking inward, and to the Heavens, and concentrating on what I was supposed to be thinking about instead of what I looked like. I should only be concerned with what my soul looks like. I hope I project a decent one. But I know it can use some work. Dolly’s got it down pat, maybe I should aspire to be more like her.
Till tomorrow,
Love from Appalachia,
Amy xoxo
Book Club meets on the third Wednesday of each month. Oh, I remembered to go, it wasn’t that. I just misplaced the location. It wasn’t where I thought it was, but I was within a hundred yards, so I guess it counts.
The book up for discussion was What Alice Forgot by Liane Moriarty. I read it a couple of years ago, and thought I would be good to go after reviewing my synopsis on Goodreads. Notsomuch. So I set about rereading it in the three days preceding Wednesday. That didn’t work out so well, either. I got pretty far, seeing as how all the underlining was already done (ha), and her books always read quick, she writes so easy. Sure, it’s chick lit, but it’s quality. Oh, here’s your link, before I forget- https://amzn.to/2BVbajw
I loved Alice. That is, old Alice, circa 1999. Who wouldn’t love her? She is absentminded, easygoing, and perfectly kooky. She’s a bit timid and naive but everything has that new, unaltered, fresh feel of young love and your whole life ahead of you.
See, Alice bumped her head when she fell over in her fitness class. She’d been this driven overachiever mom of three angels, pushing herself to be perfect at everything, and going through a divorce. She was 39.
So the question was poised: Would you go back?
Hell yes I would. I would like nothing better than to have the last ten years of my memory wiped. what different decisions would I make? Well, I could think of one major one. But I might be afraid to chance it on the career front, knowing how I was positioned to be where I am now.
*If you could go back ten years, what would you tell myself? That would be tricky, because my 29 year old self wouldn’t want to hear it. My 29 year old self would be kicking my 39 year old self’s ass, though, I’ll tell you that. My 29 year old self was a girl of action. My 29 year old self saw that she was still young, but time was not to be squandered.
*If you could write yourself a letter now to read to yourself in ten years, what would it say? Again, I probably wouldn’t listen to myself. I wonder if I’ll even live ten more years. I sometimes think I take too many chances. There are times I feel invincible, I admit. I guess I would tell myself to exercise more. Stay off my phone and read more. Save my money for vacations, quit blowing it on food and booze every day. Hopefully I would have learned this by then….but I still retain these bad habits from ten years ago, so who really knows?
Maybe what depresses us and makes us feel inadequate are the thoughts we have about what our life should be like when we’re 40. Everybody says find your own happiness, it’s different for everybody. But you know that everybody expects you to be married to someone successful, and not work after you have children. Everyone expects you to have a nice three bedroom brick house, with two and a half baths, maybe put in a swimming pool after a few years. You’re supposed to take a couple of vacations a year, and a big trip- fancy Alaskan cruise or somewhere abroad every five years or so for your anniversary. All the right clothes (and shoes and bags), the perfect hair and makeup, and don’t forget skincare, it’s so important! You should probably sell something on the side, like Pampered Chef or some gimmick to make you feel pretty. Maybe have an Etsy shop if you’re crafty, to make you feel like you’re contributing. Like cooking, cleaning, and raising kids ain’t enough. Then there’s the volunteer work at school and church and maybe even the library. Don’t forget to exercise! Life is exhausting when you’re living up to everyone else’s expectations!
You know what I say? Ditch the relationships. Ditch the idea of growing old beside someone because honestly, no matter what you do, it’s never going to be enough. The other person will come to expect things out of you, and then become bored because you never surprise them. No matter what anyone says, I think most people stay married for money and security. If they could keep their means of living the same if they were single, I think most couples would be divorced. They don’t trust their partner, they have nothing in common with their spouse, or they’re just plain bored. You can have more fun alone. Get a dog. In the last week, I’ve had two different men tell me polar opposite opinions. One has been divorced once and is happily remarried, but looking around at his friends and family wonders if we aren’t meant to be alone. You can find someone who is everything you think you want and marry and be happy for several years and then BAM! Outta nowhere, it seems like, you find yourself alone….or putting up with your partner’s extracurricular activity. And I don’t mean spin class. The other one is married to his fifth (and final) wife. Maybe he was too hasty in his other relationships. I didn’t ask. But he believes we’re not meant to be alone. I don’t know. Most people will say we’re meant to reproduce, too…and I certainly don’t agree with that. There are plenty of children in this world and the population just keeps swelling. So the way I see it, my contribution to society is NOT contributing more people TO society.
Back to book club. Spin vs. Step. We all but had a Knock Down Drag Out after saying it could really happen to me. But I was confused when the girls said that, because I don’t do step class, and I don’t intend on taking it up. They’re like, “No, it was spin! You already do that!” So it was then I called them crackheads and argued that it was step and they were all three looking at me like I had lobsters crawling out of my ears (and yes, I would eat them if that ever happens) and I went to my pocketbook to produce the book to show them exactly how crazy they were. It was then suggested by Beth that my copy was from another dimension- I mean, country, and sure enough, I determined it was from Australia, where the author lives. So. That happened. None of us are crazy, surprisingly enough.
So I don’t know. I think the older we get the more we try to conform to an ideal of what the public has deemed “normal”. We don’t want to stand out in the way we behave or dress. We try to blend in and act like everything is hunky-dory. Well, I’m here to tell you, we’re all fighting battles. But make sure you’re only fighting your own. Your harshest critic is the one in the mirror. And I somehow forgot. But I won’t forget again. And I won’t be making any more mistakes in living my life the customary way. I’ll go back to being a flamingo in a flock of pigeons.
I’ll just be happy. I do remember how.
xoxo Amy
