December 1st. The first Sunday of Advent. I don’t have an Advent calendar, or even a wreath with candles. I don’t know that they’re all that popular anymore. Even the calendar seemed to have fallen out of favor until recent years. 80’s Christmas was all about gaudy bulb lights, tinsel and tinsel garland, and those plastic bubbly looking Santas. And Jell-o molds. Sean Dietrich’s daily column was lamenting the ignorance of the population on Advent candles. Welll… guilty here, too.
I do observe the reason for the season, though. I have a nativity, front and center of the living room window. I never was a Santa fan. Even to this day, I prefer snowmen, reindeer, and penguins. I’m ok with gingerbread men. Nary a Santa or elf to be found here. My candles are red and crème.
Anyway. To each their own.
You will never believe what I got into. I had a variety of less taxing things I could have done today: go turn out cows at JA’s, go help Aunt Bren with her closet and decor, lay on the couch and read and bask in all the things I accomplished on this long weekend. Did I do any of those things? Nooooo.
I took it upon myself to clean my cabinets. “But Amy, you just cleaned your cabinets!” Well, sort of. But no, not clean out. Clean the fronts. I don’t want talk about how long its been since I commenced in this particular endeavor, but I knew they were needing it. The ones over the stove were looking particularly gummy.
But I have better things to do with my time! Or that’s what I tell myself. Things like playing with my dog (he won’t be here forever), reading (I won’t be here forever, and I’m not sure eternity has books), and drinking wine with Kay (neither one of us will be here forever!).
But today was cabinet cleaning day. I’ve procrastinated long enough.
I was sorta finished by 12:30. I say sorta because I also took some of the copper knobs off, thinking a good soak in baking soda and vinegar would cause the grossness to slide right off.
Well, not really. And I didn’t have it in me to scrub anymore. I felt like my sugar was getting low since I got too involved to eat breakfast. I had been thinking about fajitas for a few days, so I got them all fixed up. My chili powder was old, so I figured less potent, and I doubled up from the recipe. Oopsie. My eyelids are sweating and my nose is running.
The writing prompt from WordPress today is “what are your feelings about eating meat?” 🤣🤣🤣🤣
My feelings are love and hunger. Not sure what they’re looking for here. I try not to think about veal on the rare occasions that I consume it, and the only time I eat lamb is at the fair in the gyros. I wonder….what’s the age of sheep when they go to slaughter? Are they truly lambs? They might could use better marketing. (Ha, marketing). Anyway, any other time I’ve had it, it comes with a strong smell and it just puts me off. It’s pretty gamey. I love deer, but I sure don’t care to eat one. I don’t particularly care for seeing the bull wagons full of hogs headed to Swaggerty’s…or would that be a hog wagon? I had to call JA for a consultation. Naturally he laughed at me. It’s just called a pot. So a pot truck. This is getting confusing.
And of course I have a soft spot for cows, but like I always say, if I got hungry enough, I’d eat you. Vegetarian, I am not. I mean, I like vegetables very much. Just not cauliflower. And I’m not wild about asparagus or broccolini. Or hominy. But everything else is tasty. But it ain’t the star of the show, you know.
So, now that the house smells of oranges and I can’t think of anything else that’s bothering me enough to clean, I believe I’ll call it a day.
Love from Appalachia,
~Amy
My glittering, twinkling home is all adorned with the makings of a very merry Christmas, at last. What a relief to have this over and done with. I reckon everybody else feels the same way about the Georgia game last night. It went into 8 overtimes!!! I don’t have anybody close to me anymore that’s really into football, so I was spared staying up past midnight. The Smoky Bears are also headed to State, so Sevierville alumni are over the moon. I was thinking I haven’t even bothered keeping up with Eagle football since I graduated. I think I went to part of one homecoming game just to see some old friends cheer. But I just don’t have the school spirit I see ingrained in other people my age. I don’t think I’d give two hoots if Seymour went to State. But good for the people who are excited about the Bears. And, fun fact: this is the 100th year of the Bears. Team 75 also went to State and won, so it’s pretty cool the numbers are falling like that. I’ll be surprised if they don’t take the title, with all the fandom surrounding it.
Anyway, the tree. Good grief. After I got all the decorations on I realized I really should have made more effort with the lights, but that would have entailed going to the store and buying some, and lets get real. I ain’t going ANYWHERE this weekend. I thought I might go to John Alan’s tomorrow, but I b’lieve I’m gonna lay right here and be a slug. I need to help Aunt Bren get all her stuff up and out, plus deal with her big closet, so I may end up working again tomorrow. Such is life. At least I enjoy it. And the overall effect is nice once it’s complete. I don’t have the wherewithal to put up the mermaid tree this year. And so that means I won’t bother with Mardi Gras, either. But maybe that just means I’ll have more room in the dining room than usual and I need to host my own little shindig. I sure did have fun being crafty with some friends year before last. Even if we did make a colossal mess!!
Love from Appalachia,
~Amy
Black Friday.
Nah. Glitter Friday, yes. Leftovers Friday, also yes. Don’t get out of pajamas all day? You betcha.
It was the changing of the decorations from fall to Christmas. I love my fall stuff best, probably because it isn’t so involved…and it’s understated. Christmas is an undertaking. And I feel like I end up cleaning house from top to bottom twice before it’s done. But it’s still better than getting in all that mess out there in the world.
I got a slow start. But it doesn’t matter, it’s not like I’m answering to anybody. I had all the time in the world….or three days, anyway.
I made the executive decision to only put up the one big tree this year at home. After all, I put up the one at work and Aunt Bren’s, too. And if I can talk JA into not being a Scrooge, I’ll be head of the decor committee there, as well. I’d miss my mermaids, but not enough to drag it all upstairs and put it up. (Although the Mardi Gras tree is tempting….).
Only about half my lights worked. This is so infuriating. Isn’t it bad enough I have to settle for a fake tree? My lights should just WORK. I don’t have a light tester, nor do I have the patience to fiddle with checking each individual bulb if I did. But I dutifully placed each strand back in their Dollar General or Food City bag to be contended with at a later date, and set them in the closet with the non-working strands from last year that I haven’t got around to fixing. The closet may get renamed Dead Lights Closet. I was thinking about calling it The Closet of Clothes That No Longer Fit But Were Too Expensive To Throw Away. Actually, that’s not true. There’s only one dress in there that doesn’t fit.
And still has the tags on it. It makes me sick. I wish somebody would buy it.
Anyway. Lights. So I had prepared for this eventual scenario last year, because I had two unopened boxes in my stash. I think I got them on clearance last New Years at the Meijers in Bowling Green. Whatever, I was thankful to have them. And so it was probably a good thing I didn’t have a real tree, because real trees eat lights and you end up needing double what a fake tree has. And why was I putting lights on my fake tree? Why isn’t it prelit? Well, it used to be. And every year a new section would go out. So one year, instead of trying to find the problem fuse or bulb or wire, I just cut them all off in desperation. That was a job in itself, but I’ve never regretted it. I’m due for a new tree but I’m gonna wait till the end of the season and get one at deep discount.
I’ve been saying this for a good three years now.
So I get lights on and the tree fluffed and decide not to start decorating it and instead get everything put out around the house. That’s way less stressful. And, smart me, put away the heaviest stuff in the trunk in the library last year so I don’t have to heave the cumbersome storage tote upstairs. Last year I about herniated a disk and popped a hemorrhoid.
It’s tricky remembering where everything goes. I shouldn’t have made so much fun of Kevin, referring to his pictures. I don’t mind switching things up but sometimes I think, “that doesn’t look quite right….” Oh well. It’s just me, and I don’t care.
I am so glad to be off today. I remember my first years of working when I had to go in and fight traffic just to get a parking spot . I worked at the Corning store at Red Roof Mall, then over at Belz Mall, and eventually at Five Oaks. It was always atrocious and people were so hateful. I remember no sale was ever good enough. They wanted you to pay them to take it, seemed like. Co-op wasn’t so bad, but it also wasn’t so good 🤣🤣 it’s just a drag to have to get up and go when you’d rather be home and cozy and putting your tree up and fighting with lights 🥰
Maybe I’ll put up one of those book trees tomorrow…
Maybe I’ll eat cookies and question life choices, the decision is all mine!
Hope y’all got the deals of your dreams and nobody cried.
Love from Appalachia,
~Amy
45 years of Thanksgivings. No two have been the same in my adult life. The things I’ve been thankful for have evolved over the years, as well. I don’t participate in 30 days of Thankfulness posts anymore, but I do text 3 things every day to my friends dear Emily and sweet Cynthia.
Here is an incomplete list, but 45 is a good start. Not in order of importance.
• My routine. Some days are harder than others. It’s good to have a plan of action to address the day and a basic timeline of how it will play out when it’s a struggle to get out of bed and face the day. Some people’s schedules stay up in the air as they are jerked about for the latest pressing need. I used to thrive in that type of environment but I much prefer the way my life is now. If I’ve got a clear focus on where to start, what needs doing, it’s like puzzle pieces clicking into place. Sometimes the hardest part is getting started. It’s good to have responsibilities.
• Social media. I just messaged a friend who has been absent on Facebook for a few months. I miss her. I don’t have her phone number or address (yes, I would totally send a card). We haven’t been close since middle school, but it’s funny how you become attached over the years just from sharing relatable memes and the snapshots of living.
Social media brought us together and can keep us in touch if we so desire. Plus, since I don’t watch TV, it’s a way to keep up with the news, at my pace, with limitations I can enforce.
• My cousin. She makes an effort to get together throughout the year. Her schedule as a photographer is a bit skewed, so I leave it to her to reach out. She knows I’m generally available. She could have very easily written me off years ago, making assumptions about where my alliances fall in terms of family. She didn’t, and we are very close now and I am so glad. And I always loved her daddy, who would also be unavailable to me if it weren’t for Chels.
• My friend Kay. She has been invaluable to me since the summer of 2018. She started as “just a customer”, as many of y’all did. Now we see each other a few times a month and chat through the week. She is chock full of great advice, hilarious escapades, and recipes. I love her dearly and she always cheers me up ❤️
• The library and my ability to read. I couldn’t afford to buy all the books I read. And thanks to the library, I don’t need to. I download them via the Libby app, which gives me access to all the books owned by public libraries across the state. I read them on my iPad, so I don’t even need great lighting anymore. I can’t imagine going through life illiterate. And I can’t imagine a world without books. Another perk is the library board. It keeps me invested and up to date about all the goings on so when people say, “Oh, I thought the library was just books,” I can give them a 30 minute lecture 😉
• The right to vote. Thank you to the abolitionists in the 1920’s who petitioned and fought and gave me a voice. Voting is one of my very favorite things to do. I think I’ve only missed one election, and that was because Charlie Temple said he got my registration turned in, but he obviously didn’t. It cost him my vote in subsequent years.
• Being a Southerner. I’m proud to say I’m at least a 9th generation Sevier Countian. (I’m too lazy to do my own research, this was easily obtainable from a book my uncle had, The Reagans of Sevier County). I like to think being southern automatically instills a love of the Lord, an appreciation for hard work, graciousness, and a responsibility to protect our land. And like I once told Lisa, “I don’t eat bagels and cream cheese, I eat biscuits and butter!!” Flavorless, hard bagels *shaking my head*
• My faith. When I don’t have anything else, I have Him. I love it when we pray before meals as a group. I love it when people aren’t nervous about sharing their faith.
• Chester. This dog, y’all. I really don’t know what I’d do without him. He is so sweet, so smart, so funny, so soft. I don’t want to do life without a dog. He makes me smile and he gives me purpose. He’s why I want to come home every day. And really, he’s why I want to stay home once I’m here.
• My home. It’s not new, it’s not fancy, it’s not in a trendy neighborhood. But it’s mine. I don’t need new or fancy or trendy. I need a place that shelters me and where my dog can run. I need a place I can clean in a few hours. I’ve got it.
• My Aunt Bren. She’s always been understanding and nonjudgmental. She has always been up for going and doing whatever. Even though that one time I made her hike with me to the swimming hole at Rugby, she nearly died trying.
• The contacts I made through Co-op. It’s amazing the people I run into, to this day, who recognize me, and then start asking me questions, just like I still work there. It’s a testament to how much I was respected in that role. I’ve been gone over eight years. And I still say “we”.
• Untraditional love. My dad was never in the picture, but I had my Uncle Dale. I have never had a strong relationship with my mother, and I don’t have one at all now, but I had my grandmother and my aunt. I had Lisa’s mom, Megan’s mom, several other friends’ moms who taught me how to shave my legs, fry cornbread, make spaghetti sauce, and mop floors. All the things a girl needs to know. I never did conquer sewing, though. I didn’t have siblings, but for thirty years I had Lisa, who was closer than any sister. I had John ALan and my adopted brothers at Co-op. I didn’t have children, but have I ever told you about any of my dogs? I’ve not had a husband in a long time, but I have friends who help with the “man stuff”, like keeping my yard mowed, and sawing up a tree that fell, and various plumbing and fence emergencies.
So I have not lived without love. I’ve just had love from other sources.
• Recognizing and having the ability to end relationships when they’ve run their course. This one is hard. But I see so many people holding on to a thread of what should be a whole rope. They think things will change. They think it will get better: that the drug addict will quit if they just love them enough, that the cheating will stop if they lose 20 pounds, that the kid will come home if they send them enough money and gifts. Sorry. You can’t change a heart. People are going to do what they want to do. It’s best just to let them do it. You’re only hurting yourself and diminishing your worth. Have some dignity. Realize you’re miserable waiting on a change that’s never coming. It’s just greater and greater disappointment.
•Creature comforts: heat and air conditioning, hot water, indoor plumbing, electricity. I really don’t want to think about chopping wood. What’s the saying? It warms you twice. Constantly having to carry it in, boil water to take a bath, carry the water back out…take a flashlight and watch for snakes in the outhouse….no. (Ps. have y’all been watching Yellowstone??? I thought I was gonna have to turn it off). •Cell phones and internet. Yes, I’ve already been thankful for social media, but this is different. Remember the days of having a house phone and your siblings or parents could pick up an extension and listen in? Or calling and having to endure the prospect that the mean older sister would have the line tied up for hours? And before caller ID. Ugh. You’d have to designate a time to be at a specified location, and BE THERE. I guess that kept us more accountable than we are today, because people are getting more lax about respecting others’ time, but back in the day, you couldn’t do that. I used to carpool with a friend to Wally High. She was perpetually late. About the third time, I left her. She thought I was late, so she sat there waiting on me until it made her even later to class. I wasn’t the slightest bit contrite when she blew into class and found me sitting there, smug.
• Hopes and dreams. Did you just laugh? Go on, laugh. There’s nothing wrong with being optimistic. Just know where the line of delusion starts. I harbor the dream of becoming rich. Not famous, mind you, I don’t care anything about that. But I’d just like to be able to buy a new set of tires and not cringe. Someday…..
• Friends who understand. Who call to check. Who will do your grocery shopping when you’ve got a bum leg. Who think of you when they have extra pie. Who don’t care to tell you they miss you and always want you to come sit in the barn hall and drink beer. Friends who are present and let you know they haven’t forgotten about you. Who want to know how you really, truly are.
• Emergency service personnel, obviously including dispatchers and hospital workers, and pharmacists, too. Especially today. I used to volunteer to work dispatch, because I didn’t have the nuclear family like most of my coworkers did. Plus, it paid double time and a half. But seriously. Think about those who shared cold turkey, standing up, charting, between calls. Holidays are always busy. Too much togetherness, then overindulgence, then the blood pressure gets up…it’s all downhill from there. A recipe for disaster.
• Our military. Thank God they are willing to fight. Thank God they still believe in this country.
• My coworkers. I’ve worked with some really awful people in this job, but the ones I have now are the very best. Except Jake, he’s barely mediocre, but I can look over him most of the time. I’ll even count Charlie, our landlord, in on this. He’s absolutely wonderful. He’s never failed to answer the phone when I call, and that’s a feat in itself. And if there’s a problem, yo, he solves it.
• Iron will to survive and a lack of fear. I know several people, not old people, who won’t drive on the interstate. Cynthia said the second time she was ever around me: “I can tell you ain’t scared of nothing.” I was just backing into a parking spot at Mayfield Dairy and I turned to her, incredulous. “What is there to be scared of?” I’d still like to know. They can’t take away your birthday.
• Unanswered prayers, and answered ones, too. Usually these take awhile to recover from the heartache, but eventually you’ll see it all worked out like it was supposed to. It’s hard not getting what you want (I’m an only child, so you can imagine how well I take being turned down). But it strengthens our faith.
• My reliable, fast, pretty car. This is hard to admit, because I still miss Patsy every day. I welled up today when my cousin Michael asked if I still had her. But Maggie is pretty sweet. She just ain’t hard core. I don’t feel invincible, but I reckon I can outrun most anything, so that’s not to be discounted.
• The availability of my favorite foods, Little Debbie Christmas Trees notwithstanding. At least there’s the Valentine hearts to buy me a little more time. But seriously, if I want good fish, I can go to Chesapeake’s. If I want a great burger, I can go to Fuddruckers. If I want excellent fried taters, I can go to my cast iron skillet. Plenty of countries, heck, plenty of neighboring counties don’t have that luxury.
• Music for any mood. Ahhh, Spotify. Pandora had the right idea. Where they went wrong was not letting us build our own playlists. I like all kinds of music. I can go from Frank Sinatra to Led Zeppelin to George Strait to Dr Dre. Try me.
• My overall good health. I’m telling you, when I was down a leg it really exemplified what a wuss I am, and how sorry I’d be if I were handicapped. I stay pretty healthy overall. I think I may have had Covid once. I don’t know, I didn’t test. I just had a fever for a day or two. But that feels like quite the accomplishment. And good thing, since Chester is many things, but nurse he is not. And good patient, I am not.
• Being busy and having things to look forward to. Like my routine I mentioned earlier, staying busy is a blessing. Keep your mind and body running so when you lay down to sleep you can rest. Sometimes being busy is just losing myself in a book. Or weeding a flowerbed. But it’s better than staring at the walls wondering where on the trajectory I went so wrong. Best to just go on.
• My experiences and travels. I must admit I’ve lived. I’ve certainly made my share of mistakes, but quitting Co-op to travel is not one of them. There are things I wish I had done different, even today, but I’m still standing. And there’s a reason we go through it all. Sometimes it’s so we can help a friend through a similar experience on down the road.
• My glasses. Oh my. Since 5th grade I have been hugely reliant on corrective lenses. They cured my migraines and they keep me from tripping. For the most part, anyway.
• The ability to walk in high heels. So sure, this sounds shallow and flippant, but it’s true. Have I told y’all the story of the hooker heels in the bus with pizza boxes on my head? Nobody will make that bet again. I hate to see women trying to pull off some elegant stiletto and can’t extend their leg, they go creeping along, bent at the knee for fear of losing their balance. It makes the whole ensemble ugly.
• That I can take days off without having to clear it six months ahead of time, or make sure someone can cover my shift. I had a job like that, and lemme tell you, it’s dumb. You felt like you needed a court order to go to routine doctor’s visit or funeral.
• My job in general. I really love it. I like knowing nearly everybody that walks through the door. My board is great. Holidays and weekends off are a definite plus. The county clinic saves me a ton on prescriptions and doctor visits.
• Places to shop. When I was in Crossville recently, I was astounded by the lack of things to do and places to eat. I could have driven on into Cookeville, but it was inconceivable to me there weren’t any fun things to see and do within a ten-minute radius. Even Seymour offers a multitude of Mexican restaurants and a few cute shops. I am spoiled living in Sevier County and having so many choices.
• My uncle. Even though he’s gone now, I’m still thankful he was around as long as he was and he taught me a huge variety of life lessons. He truly cared about bringing me up to be well-rounded and able to make conversation with anybody, and to be able to separate the wheat from the chaff.
• KUB. They’re pretty quick about getting power restored here. Some people aren’t so fortunate. They were good to me when my grandmother died, too, first offering condolences, then making the billing transition relatively painless, unlike Knox Chapman Water. Don’t even get me started on that bunch of CROOKS. Yes, that was 2008, but you don’t forget a kindness in the wake of a death.
• Makeup to cover my skin deep flaws. It’s a good thing I’m not a boy. My head is lumpy, so I’d have to keep my hair long, and my skin isn’t smooth and blemish free, so I’d have to keep a beard. I’m thankful makeup is available to even me out.
• The ability to swim. That was another lesson I was enrolled in as a child, and I’m grateful for them. I can’t do a breaststroke or anything formal, but I can float for hours on end, so I reckon that would serve well enough to keep me from drowning. I have a healthy respect for the ocean. While I frequently go out above my head in the Gulf, I only got shin deep at Outer Banks. That water was ROUGH.
• My gift of gab and way with words. It’s no use denying it. Y’all frequently remind me. It is a gift, and I will own it. Although I’ve blathered on here tonight. I haven’t spun a good story in some time, but I’m still trying. I think I need to get out more. And take my laptop.
• Our roads. If you’ve ever traveled through Texas, you know what I mean. Yes, it seems like it takes forever to revamp lanes. South of Houston, on 45, they’ve been “working” for over 20 years, according to several locals. Sure, we have potholes. We don’t have CRATERS. We even usually have road signs and stoplights, wonder of wonders. Travel a little. It’ll make you grateful for TDOT and Sevier County Highway Department.
• Atchley Funeral Home. If you’ve ever lost someone close to you and have to plan a funeral, you know what I mean. They don’t come no better. They match personalities and are unwaveringly professional.
• Alcohol. I mean, sometimes Mountain Dew just don’t cut it.
• My washing machine and dryer. Dear Lord, please let them last another 20 years, or at least till manufacturers see the error of their ways with whatever that waterless technology they’ve been pushing for a decade or so. Sometimes I think it’d be nice to have a clothesline for my sheets, but lets be honest: I’d end up somehow dragging them through the dirt or not notice the waspers hanging out on them and then climb in bed with that. I’ll stick to tumble dry low, thanks.
• My bed. I slept in a twin size bed until I moved out the first time, and then it was a queen. There is nothing like a King size bed. I can’t do anything smaller now. I’m gonna need a mattress before long, but I do love my bed. And Chester does, too.
• Lastly, all of you. For your encouragement and compliments and requests that I come back. I know I’ve been negligent about keeping up with this lately, and I have nothing to say for myself apart from I’m lazy. There have been days I truly haven’t had time, but plenty more where I simply didn’t MAKE time. Thank you for reading, and for understanding as I work through this journaling phase. I can’t seem to break my rut. I WANT to write about feelings, but it still feels a little dangerous to go down those avenues. I’ll find new subject matter soon enough, I hope. I might start interviewing random people and getting their stories. I don’t know, but I need to do better at entertaining.
My life isn’t anything like I thought it would be. It does no good to compare your life to anybody else’s; we’ve all got troubles and very few people put them on display. So their life may look perfect, but I guarantee it ain’t. Please stop looking back and counting your losses. I know it’s easy to do around the holidays. But you’re much better off counting your blessings. And if you’re not happy, then by all means, make an effort to change.
I heard once what if you woke up tomorrow and only had the things you were thankful for today?
I hope you all had a Thanksgiving full of love and good food and fellowship. I hope nobody had to call an ambulance…or the law. I hope we can all see we’re so much more fortunate than so many others and that we never take a minute for granted.
You get one life.
Make it count.
Ah. The night before Thanksgiving. If I were hosting, I’d be mixing my dressing, boiling eggs, and maybe grating cabbage. I MIGHT be making a chocolate crème pie. I’d be worried my house isn’t clean enough.
If I hadn’t got my belly full of being used as a one way helpline, I would have been sitting in an Atlanta mansion in front of a fire drinking Meiomi.
But I’m curled on the couch, Chester beside me, drinking apple cider. I’ve been chatting with Kay as she preps at her house, fortified with Prosecco. It’s not a bad night. I’m fairly content, as far as that goes. I have plans to go eat at my cousin’s tomorrow. Her husband is a chef. I have zero problem with that 🤣
Just caught this on Facebook and it couldn’t be more true:
There are days when all you want is to disappear, when the weight of everything feels too heavy to carry.
But then, out of nowhere, you catch yourself laughing at a friend’s story, savoring the comfort of your favorite meal, or simply breathing in the calm of the evening air as you walk home. It’s in these fleeting, almost unnoticed moments that life gently nudges you, reminding you that even in the darkest times, there are still tiny glimmers of light that make holding on worth it.
Life may never be as easy as we hope, and its challenges can feel relentless, but sometimes, it’s the smallest joys that breathe life back into you. A kind word, a shared laugh, or the quiet peace of a sunset—they have a way of reminding you just how good life can still be, even when everything feels like it’s falling apart.
And maybe, that’s the beauty of it: knowing that no matter how lost you feel, these moments will always be there to pull you back.
~ MJ Blossoms ~ Writer’s Blossoms
I wrote about glimmers the other day. They happen. They’ll perk you right up if you’re open to it. They’re everywhere. Sometimes they Don happen to you, but you’re put here to enjoy and celebrate with others. Something as simple as the person in front of you letting someone else out in traffic. I’ve about stopped that nicety myself, as people are too preoccupied to wave, and it makes me doubly mad. So it’s nice when I don’t have to have anxiety about it.
Oh! Edited to add this glimmer, speaking of people in traffic. So I went to Chickalay this morning to redeem my free biscuit, and this woman comes whipping in and about takes out three different vehicles breaking her neck to get to the drive thru. Her biscuit was clearly more important than any of ours. I’d done my ordering on the app, so my transaction was painless. The lady in front of me, not so much. So, wouldn’t you know, her lane moves quicker and she’s at the finish line in front of us three on the left.
But. Fortune smiled. The carhop came out to the car behind me with their food (how’s that possible?) Then here came mine. The lady in front of me evidently had a complicated order, as she was having conversations with every team member she encountered. She got two bags of food. She. Pulled. Away. Followed closely by me and the car behind me, while Miss Mario Andretti was still sitting there waiting 😁😁😁😁😁😁😁
The busy season is firmly upon us now. Go forth, be kind, extend grace. I truly feel for grocery store employees, everybody in retail, and emergency services. Overindulgence and overstimulation is a recipe for disaster. Y’all tread lightly. It ain’t worth the court fee or ER visit.
Happy Thanksgiving! (Of course I’m getting this out a day late, but maybe it still counts)
Love from Appalachia,
~Amy
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
Cowboy beans day!
I mean, Lindsey’s birthday 😏
I woke up to a heavy frost, in heavy frosty fog. It just looked frigid. Once again, I’m thankful for creature comforts, that I don’t have to carry in wood to have heat, or boil water over a fire to take a bath. I just would not make it in a pioneer life. I’m too lazy. Forget hunting for meat, it’s about too taxing to even go to the grocery store anymore. It’s not the trip, it’s the people you have to contend with, oblivious to the world around them.
JA called and we discussed all the aspects of roping practice yesterday. It’s like most men with hunting, you don’t need to go and watch, you’re gonna relive it every step of the way the next day.
He tried to talk me into coming over again today, they were gonna rope at noon. I once again reminded him I had plans to eat mountains of beans.
“Oh, that’s right,” which is what he always says, whether I’ve told him of my plans or not. He wants to act like he listens, at least.
“I mean, if you’d buy me a helicopter, I could be both places at nearly once.”
“Well, the problem is, where you gonna land it here?”
“We’ve been over thisssss,” I told him witheringly. “The roping pen. And it will be speedier to help dry it out.”
“I don’t think one fifty thousand dollar helicopter will dry it out very quick.”
“No, I want the Black Hawk. And I can hover.”
Alas, no helicopter, be it el cheapo 50K or grande Black Hawk is in our future, so no roping for me.
He’s just mad I wouldn’t come exercise MLK and he’d have to lope his own circles. I suggested utilizing Joey, since he likes them so well.
I had a couple of leftover sausage patties from breakfast yesterday that I intended to take to work this week for breakfast, but the weather called for something more hearty than avocado toast, which is what I initially had my heart set on. I had just eaten them, a biscuit, and a couple of fried eggs, when Jason texted to come on anytime. It was 10:00.
Um.
They had told me one o’clock for beans….but I guessed maybe they just meant come hang out. Jason said I had three hours to recover and be ready to eat again. Mission accepted.
So I got ready (no makeup, no point, and I wasn’t about to wash my hair and then sit in front of a fire all afternoon) and swung into Dollar General for gift cards and a phone charger. That particular Dollar General doesn’t sell beer, it’s too close to the school. I wondered if I could even buy beer at 11 on a Sunday? Well, I was fixing to find out.
I whipped into Food City. There were no signs up, so I selected the Sam Adams winter lager and a new peach cider from the Angry Orchard people. I was taking a gamble on both, but if Jamie was gonna be there he’d have the ol’ standby, Mich Ultra, and all would be well.
Onward.
Lindsey bought herself a new car. Not new, new, but new to her. It’s a Subaru Outback and very nice. I’m tickled for her. She was scared to take the Ranger over to Ben’s, and her big truck is hard on fuel, so I think she’ll be very happy with this. It suits her. So I sat in it and she pointed out all the bells and whistles and talked about her discount. That girl is 60 if she’s a day! It’s great to see somebody that age so conscientious for a change.
I was all alone on my alcohol consumption. Jamie stayed home with a migraine and he’s my only drinking buddy. What a drag. The peach was going down easy. I was 3/4 of the way when O’Dell and Geraldine pulled in, so I snuck around the corner of the barn to finish it off. Jason swore up and down they wouldn’t care but I didn’t want to be disrespectful. I don’t think his mom likes me very much, anyway, since I’m divorced. She’s of the mentality you’re supposed to work through anything, including drug addictions and crack whores, I reckon. Sorry, I wasn’t built that way. But I didn’t need to give her another reason to look down on me.
The party started picking up as more people got there and the food got closer to being ready. The onions had made Christy cry, and she kept apologizing for the sniffles. (And blowing her nose and using hand sanitizer. I should use her as an example for JRN). Lindsey was in her element, fielding phone calls, Facebook posts, and text messages, plus all of her nearest and dearest in attendance. Ben was more talkative this time around, and I like him better all the time.
They set up a few games and I tried to make myself invisible but I knew it was only a matter of time before I got roped into cornhole. I like it until I start losing, which happens almost instantaneously. Then I start talking trash, which puts the opposing team off their game, and I can catch up, but then it gets tricky with the 21 and not going over and they’re throwing the game by purposely missing and I get overly confident and it’s always a disaster and takes me 5x longer than it should to simply lose. When I want to be drinking beer by the fire…or in this instance, finishing my caramel pie. John Delozier is an old hand when it comes to dealing with my acerbic tongue and was immune to my pestering.
O’Dell and Geraldine took their leave right behind Tim and Christy, so I requested permission to open another bottle. Permission was granted, and I cracked open the Sam Adams I’d been dreaming of all day.
And it was turrible.
So much for that. I guess it’s good there are so many alcohol products I don’t like. Keeps me from being an alcoholic. That and my strong aversion for throwing up.
I mistakenly assumed we’d be hanging out by the fire for the evening but Christy wanted to play cards, and since the crowd had thinned by this point, the rest of us trooped inside and clustered around the table. I sat in the corner to watch and antagonize. Poor Mikey, Leanne’s boyfriend, he’s never spent much time around me, but he got a dose of exactly how obnoxious and unhelpful I can be in my competitive state. Leanne spurred me along, sticking her tongue out the corner of her mouth and scrunching her nose.
Great fun.
Mikey did not take to Rummy, but he did better with Uno. Good thing. He was about to get stoned on the courthouse steps.
Got me a hair appointment for the Friday after next. I knew I was looking pretty unkept but when Christy reminds me, it’s past time. And of course she’s even busier than usual around the holidays so I hopped to it. Unfortunately she didn’t have anything before Thanksgiving, and this was an afternoon appointment when I should be in Bowling Green, but I’ll either have to go late or not go at all. I’m not opposed to that. I got my Kevin time in already. I just hate I didn’t get to see Craig and Lori.
I eventually extracted myself when talk kept running to a mutual friend that has pierced my heart and carved out a sizeable slice to carry around with their knife, leaving me bleeding for a time. I’m no poker player, my heart is right there on my face, and I just couldn’t take any more. I could hide behind my sunglasses outside when all the stories were being exchanged. It didn’t help I had envisioned this day being different, too.
But again, I brought it on myself. I gotta toughen up. I should have known better. I did know better. Live and learn. FAFO.
I didn’t want to go home, and I never did make it to the store yesterday, so I decided to run by there on my way home. It sure doesn’t take long to spend $100. The only meat I bought was chicken. I did finally find those Little Debbie Christmas Tree inspired muffins, so we’ll see how those taste. It doesn’t look like they have filling, but everybody says they’re wondrous, and I couldn’t pass them up after my valiant searching all month long.
No way was I able to try them tonight, though. That caramel pie was too much. I didn’t need to eat any more sugar for a week!! I hope I can sleep tonight. Maybe I should get a project in mind in case I can’t….I know the ceilings need painting….oh, I’m tired just thinking about that….
Love and beans 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 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
