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

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

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

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

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

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

Such a brat. So much for fresh sheets. 🙄

Love from Appalachia,

~Amy and the 80# brat

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Few things make me feel more obsolete and ignorant than navigating Kevin’s smart home. From trying to find a light switch to turning on the TV to setting an oven timer, it’s all via an app on your phone or telling Alexa your intentions. It’s handy, but it’s also infuriating. And now I had a new machine to learn the ins and outs of: the dang coffeepot. It’s as necessary as the toilet. Why does it always have to be so complicated? Why does he have to be so techy and fancy?

He showed me again, patiently, how to work the complex coffeemaker. He had biscuits in the oven, although I had expressly forbade him to fix any kind of breakfast. I’d even brought my own bacon. But does he listen?? Nooooo. He also scrambled me eggs. With cheese.I must admit, it’s hard to find anything wrong with a man fixing me breakfast. And here it had happened twice in a week! Two different men, with no favors expected! 🤣🤣🤣
I settled at the bar, picking at the plastic price tags on his new placemats while he chattered on like a monkey in a tree about his new role at work and the recent flight to Honduras in the corporate jet. He found pictures online of it (because he was too cool to snap any when boarding). He said he prefers to sit in the restroom area of it, because you have a little room all to yourself and the chair is cushier. I found this VERY amusing. He said when it’s raining, they get to board in the hangar so they don’t catch a chill. 😎
“I’m telling you, I’d feel like such hot shit getting on that thing, they’d never get my nose out of the air. It’s a good thing you don’t board in the rain. Look!! They even lay you out a Fruit rug!!! Dang!!!”
At this point, he allowed a grin, agreeing that he did, indeed, feel like hot shit. This was not his first trip in it, but the novelty hasn’t worn off as of yet.

So it was after eleven before we made our first trek to the attic for decorations. It’s not bad getting to his attic- it’s simply a door off the bonus room and you walk straight over into it. He’s got plywood down so it’s fairly safe, too. I have to say I was relieved. My entire experience with attics involve hearing about people missing a beam and falling through the floor. And, you know, National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.
So we got the rugs and pictures traded out, the dining room mostly situated, changed the bedding in Granny’s room, the bathroom was pretty much done, apart from one rug that would need to be purchased, the back porch fixed up, a plan for the cabinets….and that just left the tree.
“I’m dreading it either way,” Kevin admitted.
“You just built it last year! You gotta use it again!!!”
“But you don’t understand what an ordeal it is…well, both of them are. But with the real tree, I’d get it put up and lit, and Scarlett would come and fluff and decorate it and I didn’t have to worry about it.”
“Well, you can still do that. Or I can be Scarlett. But I think you need to break the new thing out again.”
He breathed deeply, attempting to gather strength. “Okay. Let’s go.”
So we went.
And by the time we’d drug all the pieces down, I felt like I was reaching an understanding.
By the time I watched him manhandle the first piece over the pole, I felt there had to be a batter way. Kevin insisted there wasn’t, that to make a section that had a hinge would cause it to sag over time. But oh myyyy. And I, of course, was no help, as I am vertically challenged, and I had to be two places at once, anyway, to place the scotch, and to move the ladder.
We needed three grown men. One of us definitely needs to get married before this thing has to be put back up. Or really, taken apart, although he claims that’s marginally easier.

We had to take water breaks (he said no wine until this thing was fully assembled) so that was a drag, but I could see his point.
Lori backed out of supper, which was disappointing. We worked till about 4, then decided the sweaty part was over, and he knew I’d need an hour to do all the girl business, so we took a recess. He made our reservations for 6:30 so we’d have plenty of time to get by Menards for a few things.
As I got ready, I reflected that it felt like it did when I used to get ready for a date with my husband. But it wasn’t. I didn’t wear perfume. But still fun, getting prettied up to go out to a new restaurant in town. Christmas decorating. Yes, I was right to come. Even though I missed my dog immensely.

So Menards is really quite the deal. First of all, it’s enormous. It’s like a Walmart, Lowes, and lumberyard all combined. They sell groceries, dog toys, plumbing, decorations, and they have a bi-level millwork “yard”, which is separate from the lumberyard.
I saw an opportunity as I watched his eyes light up. “This organization impresses you? You like it, do you??” Sarcasm at its finest.
But it really was surreal.

Dinner was really good, but none of their wines tickled my fancy, so we didn’t drink. I think Kevin really wanted something, but didn’t want to drink alone. I get it. It’s no fun. I also wanted creme brulee worse than I wanted alcohol, but by the time I ate my tortellini in some very rich cream sauce, I wasn’t very interested in that, either. Oh well.
We walked around a bit outside but there wasn’t much of anything going on, surprisingly. I would have been for going to have a drink at Gerard’s, but we had wine at the house, plus the Georgia Tennessee game was underway, plus the plugging of the houses still awaited, for the most part.
So, an early night on the town.

We got back, changed into non-restrictive clothes, and returned to the business at hand, which was building the village. He had it figured out last year how to showcase it in the most aesthetic way, so this involved consulting the pictures from a year ago, just like we did in the dining room. I’m glad I’m not crazy.

At last, we at least got all the buildings laid out. Just needed to do the filler. He had some painted pine cones that served as trees. I could see myself getting allllll kinds of carried away with this, there are so many options. And he certainly didn’t have enough horses to suit me.

The ballgame concluded as we polished off the bottle. It wasn’t as smooth as the night previous, and I wasn’t keen to open another. But we did consume some very delicious pumpkin roll that he’d gotten from Sam’s. Tennessee lost, but I don’t think anybody was mad about it. Georgia has been the team to beat for several years running now. Emily definitely wasn’t mad, she roots for both teams, she just didn’t want to see any injuries.

We turned in about eleven. Thankfully, on this trip, I didn’t hear any tornado sirens as I lay down to sleep, only train whistles.

I talked to two farmers today who were having good days. One had just shot a coyote.
“Well, that’s good!” I cheered.
“But there were two more with him,” he amended.
“Oh. Well, maybe you got the patriarch and they’ll leave.”
The other farmer said, “I got up this morning and my cows weren’t out, and that’s always a good thing.”
I didn’t disagree.

I have to tell myself to live in the moment. Pretend I’m a dog or something. If you had told me 20 years ago that I’d be working for the government in a job I loved and driving a Maxima, I would probably think I had a pretty great life. Especially if you’d told me I was on a four hour road trip, alone, to see my friend in Kentucky.
But the truth of the matter is, I couldn’t go where I really wanted to go (Ireland) with who I really wanted to go with. I no longer speak to my best friend. My favorite person in the world is no longer in my life. And my coworker is disgusting.
Life hurts.
But, I’m in pretty good health, I have lots of friends who care very much about me, I have my own home and a precious 80# dog.
So, you take what you got and grin and bear it.

I wasn’t able to leave until 2:30. Duty calls. Jake wasn’t here, and I feel obligated to keep the office open if at all possible. Plus I hate to burn time off if he’s gone. I like to use my hours to avoid suffering. And, as history has proven, it’s best I be here. For instance, this morning, I had just gotten in the door when here come somebody whipping in. Turns out, it was the handyman, here to check the toilet. I thought Charlie was gonna leave it till he got in Monday. Not that I’m complaining. I love our handymen. (He had his grandson with him: a serious blonde headed young man who blinked at me sleepily. They were headed to the aquarium for a field trip. I was pretty jealous. I like the turtle). And let’s not forget the unexpected printer delivery the other morning. It’s always something. Those dang LB Chase guys show up on a whim.

Anyhoo, I swung by the house to get Chess situated; I’d hated to turn him out this morning while it was so gloomy and cold. That poor baby knew something was up, he was at his most Velcro-y last night. He knows when I bust out the orange suitcase his life is fixing to be upset for the near future. So it was three by the time I got home, thanks especially to school traffic at the house, and 3:30 before I got on the road. Traffic was atrocious: Knoxville was a slow roll all the way through. There was a backup around Cookeville, but luckily not nearly as bad as what the east bound side was dealing with. I missed my preferred exit because my car GPS was all for taking me straight through the middle of Nashville and up 65.
I was vehemently against this plan, as it was Friday evening. I thought about how excited I was to be seeing Lori and trying the new Italian place downtown. Who am I kidding, I always have a good time, and I was bound to be busy, which would be good for my mental well being. I just hated to be abandoning my dog. I do depend on Angela more than I care to admit.

Anyway, I got off at the Lebanon exit that takes me through the roundabout and makes me wish for more time to explore their downtown. It looks fun. What’s NOT fun is driving a low-riding car with illegal tint windows. I couldn’t see crap. I told Kevin either I didn’t need to be driving past dark, I didn’t need to have tinted windows, or there need to be more streetlights. It was a little dicey. But I made it, and that’s all that matters.

Walking in the door at Kevin’s is kinda like visiting Lisa: he met me with three bottles of wine to choose from. I’ve got my hands full of road snacks and a bunch of bananas and haven’t even got my suitcase out of the trunk before he’s pouring.
No, I’m not complaining. See why I like visiting?
We drink one bottle down, and I’m feeling it, since the last thing I had was chili at about 1:00, so I choose our salad (cranberry crunch) and he puts on the season premiere of Yellowstone since I missed it last week. Like everybody else, I was mad and disgusted, but not really surprised.

I checked on JA a little after ten, and they’d made it! Having two drivers makes a huge difference in covering ground. I think I would have wanted to rest the horses more, but that’s their call.

Kevin fell asleep in his chair during Yellowstone so we turned in pretty early. Big day of decorating ahead of us!

Thankful for this home away from home.

It’s not that I have nothing to write about (which I don’t) but it’s that I really just don’t want to. Like, no part of me has any desire to write a word. So I won’t. For now. I wanna go crawl in a hole and eat ice cream and not talk to anybody.

Finally working on this a week and a half later:

Today was a taxing, aggravating day at work. Thankfully these are few and far between, but when they do come around, it’s almost like the aggravation is amplified because it’s so out of character.
Addison wanted me to gather up all the folders needing signatures. We’ve got a QAR in January and he’s crossing his t’s and dotting his i’s. {I felt like those should be capitalized to look right, but when I did, it wasn’t illustrated as clearly, so that’s why they’re in lowercase, although I’m unhappy with the appearance and I don’t know which is correct and I’m not going to bother googling because this is my blog and I can do as I wish).
Anyway, I stopped pulling folders when I got to 20, thoroughly disgusted and baffled.
The rain wasn’t helping a thing, either. Although I should be grateful my job is inside with my own personal heater (thank you, Charlie!) and not out directing school traffic like that poor officer this morning.

Another thing that had me aggravated was JA.
Last weekend, he asked me to pick him up from the airport Sunday. I told him I could, assuming it was a day or afternoon flight. When I asked him last night what time it was, so I could plan accordingly for leaving from Bowling Green to pick him up on my way in, he was evasive. When he called this morning and was beating around the bush, and I attempted to pin him down, he allowed that he thought it was coming in at ten. Ten in the morning was too early for me to make work, since BG is 3.5 hours away, plus an hour behind us. He’s like, “No, ten at night” and I about lost it. I was like “JA!!!! You didn’t tell me that!!! It’d be midnight before I got home!” Because the airport is about 45 minutes away from my house, and he lives in New Market, which is 45 minutes the other direction from my house, and closer to an hour from the airport. Holy crap. So I got out of that by agreeing to go see Kevin. I love JA but he is constantly depending on me for stuff and I can’t even get him to the house unless he wants Thanksgiving or me to go do something with him in Knoxville. He told me three months ago he’d come haul off this big screen TV for me and fix my fridge door and of course he’s not breathed a word about that. He offered to do some grade work to fix my foundation issues a year and a half ago, and I’ve asked him twice more about that. But nooooo I always have to run to him. And I do, so that enforces his bad behavior. But I’ve cut way back on my running and doing this year. I understood he was in a bad place last year and truly did need me, now he’s just being selfish and wanting coddled and I ain’t doing it. Emily’s thought was: “You’d think he’d realize that anyone whose phone has a 10pm bedtime wouldn’t be available for a 10pm airport pick up.” I appreciate that I’m his preferred chauffeur, but dang, have a little consideration.

Emily asked if I realized Tennessee was playing Georgia this weekend. She is so thoughtful and remembered that Georgia is Kevin’s preferred team. “You know TN plays GA this Saturday so y’all will be mortal enemies for a good 4 hours.” Haahahaa. She also knows how we bicker, fuss, and pick, so no news there.

It’s nice when someone recognizes a void. And even though it’s technically none of their business, a good friend will say so but still ask if everything is ok. There are ways to do that without it coming across as nosy…even if it is. I am just glad people take notice. I remember when I was going through my divorce, I was truly shocked that my lack of social media engagement went unnoticed. And that I wasn’t sharing photos of me and my husband. You’d think when your world gets rocked that catastrophically, people’s antennae would pick up on it. Oh well. We’ve all got our problems. And nobody wants brought into the middle of it. I get it.

JA is officially on the road to Arizona. Traffic was horrendous in Knoxville, surprise, surprise. I can’t imagine riding all that way with an eighteen year old, two horses, and two dogs. Gonna be a LONG three days.

Anyway. I was glad to see the end of this day. And I was super glad I had a big, happy dog to squeeze till my heart’s content.

Today, I am filled with a sense of rightness I haven’t possessed in some time. I’m afraid to move too fast, I don’t want to disrupt this balance.
I’ve been busy, is that it? The printer, which was not scheduled until next Tuesday, made its appearance today. I wasn’t surprised, in actuality, but rather, was glad to be getting it over with, even if I was in the middle of breakfast. The guy delivering it was congenial and easy going, which is always a blessing. He actually accepted the proffered bottle of water, which is so unusual I was momentarily stunned.

What was funny was I went to sign for it, and he said he delivered one to Bowling Green not long ago. He got it all placed and plugged in and offered the sig pad to the guy working. Dude backed up and was like, “I’m not signing for that,” all wide-eyed. Truck driver was like, “Oh yeah you are,” and he says, “I’m not authorized” and delivery dude was like, “Well, I’ve gotta load it back up, then,” and the NRCS guy was like, “Oh hold on here, you can’t do that!” and the driver was like, “Hide and watch, buckaroo.” So long story short, the “unauthorized” employee signed and they got to keep their printer. I snorted and told him I signed for stuff all the time, because what choice did I have? If they want it, they better give me signature authority, or good luck catching a “real” fed here. I’ve never heard of a problem with me signing for anything. Maybe that guy was new.

Anyway, I’m dealing with all that when Addison calls. We were talking about David and ironically, I see David has messaged me on Teams. He’s sent some legitimate question, followed by “gobble, gobble”. I ask Addison what was up with the gobble gobble remark and he has no clue. Addison and I start talking about what I had for breakfast, and I see the dots bouncing where David is writing back….I get the message and it was what I had for breakfast. At this point, I am checking to see if my microphone was engaged or what, and more weird stuff comes through from David, and I’m like, “Is he sitting right there???” with my eyes squinted at their deception. Of course they start laughing like schoolboys and I called them turds.
Life is so much better with them than it was with their predecessor.

So yesterday I told y’all of the absurdity and audacity of carbs in crackers. Today Emily tells me she’s got the making for a faux apple pie. I’m wondering what the heck that is. So I show my ignorance and ask. I figure it’s just using apple pie filling instead of real apples.
Ohhh no.
You use Ritz crackers!! She says they’re all the rage on Tiktok and she’s gonna fix it and not tell her brother and see if he can tell.
Update: he loved it and had no idea. I think she had to show him the evidence. Is that not one of the weirdest things you’ve ever heard? Emily said you boil them for five minutes and they taste like and have the same consistency of apples, so it must be magic.

I’ve got plans to meet Kay after work. I’ve got my pink Lucchese boots on, but I might switch to my sassy Dolly heels. They’re fun but not always appropriate. Just have to see where we’re going.

I was born a fool in a china cabinet
Drawn to the delicate like it's a magnet
Perfume bottle on a mirror tray
Tempered glass on a window pane
Timeless face on a pocket watch
Time is ticking
I leave it all in ruins
'Cause I don't know what I'm doing
I'm hard on things that matter
Hold a heart so tight it shatters
So I stay away from things that break
Can't make a man a promise
With the best of intentions
Drive two hundred miles on a rundown engine
Put a blanket underneath a hollow tree
When the wind blows hard it will fall on me
Stick around long and you will see
Time is ticking
I leave it all in ruins
'Cause I don't know what I'm doing
I'm hard on things that matter
Hold a heart so tight it shatters
So I stay away from things that break
Me, I don't ever wanna get too close
Or be held responsible
For all the pain that you can't see
Somebody once broke me
I leave it all in ruins
'Cause I don't know what I'm doing
I'm hard on things that matter
Hold a heart so tight it shatters
So I stay away from things that break
~Miranda Lambert, "Things That Break" 

Amazingly enough, when I get to Aubrey’s John and Kay already had us a table staked out in the bar. I was floored. Not that John beat me there, but that Kay did. Because she called me when she was coming up Chapman, at Zion Hill. Thank God John offered to meet her in town or I would’ve been stuck there alone for hours. Oh, and I left my boots on. I decided the heels just weren’t worth it.

For whatever reason, we got to hear John’s life story. I think it was because I thought he was from Michigan. I thought that because Cyndie, his wife is, and I guess I assumed they met up there and moved down here. I don’t know.
But anyway, wonder of wonders, he was born in Oneida. His dad owned the only gas station in town, and they offered full service and mechanic work. I picture like Gomer Pyle’s station on Andy Griffith. This was the 60s, and the sticks, so I’m sure I’m not too far off base. They had a poker machine in the back, while condoms and naked lady magazines were sold behind the counter. Holler shine was kept under the counter in quart jars. His momma didn’t work there because she didn’t have to. John rode his bicycle there and to school. His uncle was the Sherriff and chief bootlegger, which is partly how they were able to run such a lucrative business. His other uncle was the undertaker. Another uncle ran the only mom & pop restaurant in town. .
At 18, he decided to join the Army and left home. He fulfilled his two years of duty, living here and there on bases. He decided that was pretty easy, so he renewed for another two years. Then he decided to move to Lake Charles because “I liked ships pretty good”. He had taken shop classes in high school and was a fairly skilled welder. He found a place to live above a hamburger joint, and worked there in the evenings and weekends for free room and board and a place to keep his Chevelle and truck.
One day, his boss came to him and said, “I have a once in a lifetime opportunity available to you, but you’ve only got 30 minutes to make up your mind.”
John was looking at him, kind of awestruck, I picture with his welding helmet pushed up on his head and is like, “Whatchu talkin’ ’bout, Willis?”
His boss says, “See that helicopter over there? You need to be on it before it leaves in thirty minutes. They’re needing an offshore welder.”
I forget if it was for Exxon or Texaco. One of the x’s.
John raced back to his apartment over the burger shop, grabbed some clothes, talked to his landlord who promised to keep his car safe, and fled to the chopper with moments to spare.
The following years would see him hanging off oil rigs and helicopters in the great blue sea, from England to Alaska.
John didn’t go home to Oneida again until he was 30, for the funeral of his best friend. His other best friend had shot him in a crime of passion. Literally. He was parking with his wife. John tried to buy the car, bullet hole and all, after the service. He said it could be fixed.

You just never know what you’re gonna hear, drinking at Aubrey’s.

Kevin called at some point and I drunkenly agreed to come see him this weekend and decorate for Christmas. Then I remembered I had a dog and Angela was in DC.
“Wait, I gotta check the weather. Chessie can’t get rained on.” He’s not like my smart dog, who lounged around in the basement when the weather turned. Kevin had offered to let Chester stay, too, but I hated to take him up on that. He does shed. And Kevin’s hardwood floors are in better shape than mine by a long shot. But really, I was more worried about him running outside when we opened a door, or busting through the screen if he took a notion. Plus, four hours on the interstate in Friday afternoon traffic is a lot to ask for one so high strung as him.
Anyway, it’s something to think about. I hate to keep shooting him down, especially in this time of need. He’s thinking of going to Montana for Thanksgiving and then his big Christmas party is the first weekend of December, so it’s the final countdown. We’ll see. I haven’t flitted off at all this year. Namely because I didn’t want to be accused of running.
Stand your ground. And here I’ve stood. I think I can abandon my post now, though. Seems all the fires are thoroughly doused.

As Fish said, the Tuesday that feels like Monday. I hope I don’t miss something important this week, since I’m already running a day behind. I’m also two days behind on the blog. Maybe I can get that remedied, at least. (Um. It’s the following Wednesday when I’ve come back to this and I am SOOOOOO behind)(Now it’s the 23rd and I’m so desperate I’ve resorted to my home laptop which I almost never use).

I hate when I’m dreading doing something, but it has to be done, so I do it, and doing it makes me feel even worse. Life would be an easier pill to swallow if we weren’t conditioned to have hope in the face of all adversity. If we could just say, “Listen, this is gonna suck, but it has to be done. So don’t go telling yourself that it’ll be ok. ‘Cause it won’t. The best you can hope for is getting put out of your misery quickly. A ripping of the proverbial Bandaid.” But noooo. In order to get ourselves through whatever it is, we lie to ourselves: “Oh, it won’t be as bad as you think.” {Yes, it will}. “They might tell you this or that.” {No, they won’t}. “You might get a cookie at the end.” {Well, that part can come true, but you have to devise this happy ending unto yourself and plan for it by bringing said sugary treats}.

I woke up feeling all twisty and anxious this morning but I just heard the verse “be not anxious or afraid, for I am the Lord, your God, and I go with you.” I don’t know what version my paraphrasing is from, but it’s Isaiah 41:10. And it’s good advice. I decided to heed it, and I almost instantly felt better.

And sharing my thankfuls with Emily every morning, as is my routine, also lifts my spirit. She has chronic pain and has all but lost all vision (thank goodness for modern technology and magnifying apps!) but she maintains the most positive outlook on life of anybody I’ve ever known. So it humbles me and puts my problems in perspective. And also she is a HOOT. She was telling me about this girl she used to work with, that I also know, who had a gum sculpture in her car. What’s a gum sculpture, you ask? Allow me to tell you: it started off innocently enough, with a single wad of chewed gum stuck on the plastic lid of a fast food drink container. Well, for whatever reason, the cup didn’t get thrown out, and she kept adding gum to it (how did the bottom of the cup not disintegrate? Unless she’d consumed all the liquid prior to the gum collection, I guess then it would be okay). Anyhoo, the lid eventually caved in but that didn’t deter her. She just started a new one. Emily said she rode with her through three different gum sculptures to the best of her knowledge, and she was still going strong last she saw her. “It was very odd in the beginning but after awhile it seemed normal for her so I didn’t think about it, other than to admire it as art. So basically, she infected me with her crazy….on an unrelated note, did you know a group of clowns is called an alley?”
You see what I mean with the wit.

I informed her of the knowledge I gleaned yesterday, that FIVE saltine crackers carry 12 carbs but a Whatchamacallit bar only has 15??? Unfortunately, Whatchamacallits don’t taste very good in chili. But what a racket.

I finally finished that awful book. I don’t remember where the recommendations came from, but I should have verified through Goodreads, because readers there certainly didn’t give it any slack. Even the people who couldn’t be bothered to spell words correctly were giving it down the road. I was relieved it wasn’t just me.

In other good news, Jake Right Now was gone nearly all day with the biologist. He’s somehow coerced her into stopping for a milkshake, so when he got back it was nonstop hacking. And, of course, he had to visit the bathroom the moment he got back. Even with my little radio blaring, I could hear him coughing up his guts. He can drive me up the wall in five seconds flat. And yes, I tell him so. It’s such an attack on my peace after I’ve been alone all day.

Kay asked me to pick up a package for her at Oak Haven on my way home. I was assuming it was something about the size of a shoebox, something from Ulta or Amazon. I get over there and it’s about a 36″ cube! Luckily, it fit in my trunk. No wonder the staff was eager for it to be picked up.

I took Chester out for ice cream at 8:30. He was super excited. I was, too, until he got ice cream in the console and I stuck my hand in it, thinking it was part of a ripped-up napkin. What a mess, Chess! Life with a dog is better than life with about anybody else, though, ice cream messes or not. I don’t know what I’d do without him. Dogs are a gift that I often feel undeserving of.
It’s funny. I posted a picture of us on my Facebook with the caption: “When your friends can’t go out for martinis, take your dog out for ice cream. It’s almost as much fun.” And it wasn’t but a few minutes later, this girl I know from Cookeville that I’ve met exactly twice texted me and we attempted to pin down a date for a martini lunch sometime soon. I wish I had thought to message her when I was in Crossville a couple of weeks ago. It’s funny because she is a friend of my former bestie and I feel that she tries harder to see me than Lisa ever did.
I might have been on her mind, though, because she posted she was reading Hiking Through, which I read several years ago. I couldn’t resist commenting. Why this is ironic is because Lisa has recently taken up reading voraciously, she’s knocked out seven or eight books already this month, and I haven’t commented on a single post. My petty little way of jabbing. I can’t help it. It truly peeved me that my very nice post about Mike getting dealership of the year went unrecognized.
Anyway. It’s nice to be thought of. I might make a special trip. I’m assuming she doesn’t know the current climate of me and Lisa, but I’d love her take on it. I feel that she would shoot straight and be honest. We’ve always been aligned on our views. At any rate, I can always use a friend. And one who drinks socially is even better.

Veteran’s Day. In years past, I’ve elaborated at length about my appreciation to those who have served. I should again today, but there are more pressing concerns in my midst, and I don’t have anything new to say, so simply: Thank you for your service, no matter your reasons.

I had promised JA to accompany him to Powell to look at a bus. Let me stop myself right there. Not a bus, as in a school bus. More like a tour bus. I don’t know why this set doesn’t call them a motorhome, but I understand that the correct terminology is either “coach” or “bus”. Perhaps this is to differentiate from the Class A and Class B rating in an effort to sound a little more recognizable. My friend from college, her parents kept one, and they called theirs the same thing: “the bus”. They are anything BUT a bus, they’re a house on wheels. And the ones I’ve spent time in are not like a mobile home, they have high quality cabinetry and solid (often heated) floors. Most people don’t have a clue when you say “bus” what you’re actually talking about.
So it turned out the bus wasn’t in Powell; it was in Maynardville. No big deal, I was just along for the ride. But the best part was, he fixed me breakfast! A chorizo breakfast burrito. Kevin is the only other man who has cooked for me lately, so it was a real treat. He’d found another bus he wanted to look at in Sweetwater, so we had our whole day scheduled for sightseeing East Tennessee. I guess I wasn’t going to get to watch Woman of the Hour after all, since JA refuses to watch scary movies after dark. I wasn’t too keen on it, myself.
The GPS didn’t take us the interstate, surprisingly. We went through the country, which was also fine by me. We started into this development, I guess you’d call it, that goes over to the marina on the lake. And of course there are switchbacks due to the steepness and it’s narrow. Plus all the leaves falling off the trees made for an arduous journey. I couldn’t believe they could get a 45′ motorhome in here. JA went back and forth between saying, “Ain’t no way, I don’t see how,” and “Oh yeah, I could get one in here,” so who knows. I was just glad we weren’t in my car, because even though Maggie is much smaller than his old rattletrap Dodge dually and is able to turn on a dime, it was SO STEEP.
Anyway, we eventually made it to the pinnacle and we’re looking around at the houses and mailboxes, searching for the box numbers. The road name didn’t match where we were supposed to be, but I know from working for 911, addresses are a hairy business. I start looking instead at the homes, trying to discern who would be most likely to be harboring a 45′ motorhome.
“This cat’s got a lot of toys,” I say, nodding to our left, where there sat two UTVs and a bunch of other crap I won’t name for privacy purposes. “There it is!” I said jubilantly, pointing. I was always a pretty good egg hunter.
The RV was in a very fine, very tall, bricked garage with a full glass roll up garage door.
“Derned if it ain’t,” JA said, and cut the wheel left.

We sat there a minute, just looking. “I bet the view from the back of this place is phenomenal,” I breathed.
An funky lady stepped out a side door, holding cleaning supplies. She wore flamboyant glasses and obviously had hair extensions. Not the cleaning lady, then. Likely the wife.
We stepped out and before we could introduce ourselves, she said, “You must be John.”
Then her husband whipped in the front yard in a Jeep and bounced over. He looked the opposite of his wife, beige and a bit stressed.

The guys went straight into the bus, while the wife took me on a little tour.
Their house started as a “tiny” cottage, with two bedrooms, a little kitchen, a small living room, and two baths. They had just built a monster of a house in a new development somewhere down the road, but would come out here on the weekends and didn’t want to leave.
So they didn’t.
I think she said they stayed in their new house one summer, and then never set foot in it again. They started building on to this one. It is now nine bedrooms, eight bathrooms, three living rooms, and I don’t think she told me if it has more than one kitchen. It probably does. It’s about 10,000 square feet plus the pool and porch area. Not sure if the pool house was included in all that, but that’s where the bus stays. There’s no yard to speak of, but I reckon they own the majority of the top of the mountain, so they can run around up through there.
“Our neighbors don’t like us very much, we’re not very good neighbors,” she explained with a shrug. “We get out here and party and have our music up and they used to flash their porch light at us but then we built that building, and we can’t see if they do now.”
I giggled, but at the same time grateful they weren’t my neighbors.
“We close that gate right there and we’re blocked off. We can be running around back here naked and nobody knows,” she said, about the same time I was thinking, “they probably get back here and smoke dope and jump rope naked, and I don’t blame them.” I couldn’t take my eyes of the view. It was stunning, and I imagine only more so in the summer when the lake level is up. She spoke of the noise, how the different boat motors sound in different seasons between the fishermen and the ski boats whizzing around. She granted me permission to take pictures. I tried not to get their infinity pool in it. I just wanted to sit there all day, but she eventually said we should go see what the guys are talking about.
Bah, humbug.

I was exploring the bedroom and closet when she made some comment about the shower being big enough for two and I was like, “Oh, we’re just friends.”
Silence reigned. Her and her husband both just kind of blinked.
JA and I are quite used to this. Most male and female friends don’t go furniture shopping or to land closings or bus picking out excursions together. But most friends ain’t went through what he and I have endured.
“Y’all aren’t married???” She said at the same time the husband recovered enough to say, “I really thought y’all were married.”
I flitted my hand around as John Alan said, “Everybody does.”
“We couldn’t get along to the bottom of the hill,” I said.
“Ha! We couldn’t get along to your mailbox,” he corrected.
I nodded. “It’s true.”
“But y’all are….you….”
“We finish each other’s sentences, yes. Almost 30 years of friendship will do that,” I explained. “We used to be married,” I went on when I could see they weren’t satisfied. “Not to each other, but to other people.”
They just shook their heads while JA and I grinned at each other. If we had a dollar….

We eventually made our way off the bus and out into the driveway, where we continued to exchange stories of traveling on the road. The paint job on this thing was really flashy, a navy blue color that I’d never seen before. She said they get compliments every trip. But I wasn’t sold on the layout, or the black woodwork that she was so crazy about. But the people were worth meeting. What a hoot.
When we made our way down the mountain this time, we followed the husband as he scooted down their private road in his Jeep. THAT’S how they get the bus to and from their house, not those hairpin cliffhanging curves. I still don’t think I’d want to ride in it till we got to the highway, but it was a burden off my mind that they didn’t take the GPS route.

We got back into Maynardville proper and stopped at the Marathon to teetee and get snacks. It was one of the cleanest bathrooms I’ve ever encountered- like seriously, Buc-cee’s level clean. JA got some chemically orange peanut butter crackers and I got a Whatchamacallit. I looked around at the patrons scattered at the few Formica tables down the windowed wall.
Two men in overalls, not visibly chewing anything apart from their tobacco. A construction type headed out the door, clutching two energy drinks and leaving clods of dried mud in his wake.
I could write a book here.

JA called the owner of the other bus he wanted to look at in Sweetwater. It had been listed by a family member for an ailing uncle or something.
“We can come right now,” he was yelling into the phone. “We’re up in Maynardville, it’ll be about an hour….alright, sounds good, we’ll see you atter while,” he said, hanging up. He looked over at me. “I like him. Reminds me of my dad.”
We backed out and headed towards the interstate.
“This reminds me of that road between Tazewell and Middlesboro,” I remarked after a few moments of observation.
“What do you mean?”
“Just…like, the terrain and businesses.”
“That’s because it is,” he enlightened me.
“No way!! They STILL ain’t done with this road?? They were working on it when we were in college.”
“You ain’t tellin’ me nothin’.”

And so we go.
JA and I were in agreement on not being crazy about the rounded glass on the shower and all the black. Sure, it was a nice bus, but not really his style. So we’d look at this one and hope it checked more boxes.
We got off the interstate and are looking at road signs when we’re about on top of the place. “Well, I don’t know about the road, but there’s the coach,” I said, pointing. It was parked in the front yard.
“That’s it.”
Life hack: sometimes it’s easier to look for the vehicle than it is the road name.
So turns out the road used to just be this guy’s driveway, and they’re building a development behind him. The grass was mashed down, but that’s about all I could tell was happening so far. I popped out of the rattletrap and bounced over to the old man and stuck my hand out. I noticed his Vietnam Veteran cap right away.
“Thank you for your service!” I chirped. “And on Veterans Day, to beat all!”
He smiled in a genuine fashion. JA joined us and he led us over to the bus, telling us about his liver biopsy he’d had that morning.
“I hear those feel really good,” I quipped. He managed a laugh.
“My appointment was at 6:15, so I got there at 6. At seven, I went up to the desk and they said my appointment wasn’t until 6:45. I told them I didn’t have much interest in having it done anyway, and I was leaving if they couldn’t take me back. I’d done sat there longer than I’d intended to. So they put me back in a room. And I still sat there longer than I should’ve.”
John Alan winked at me.
“I won’t know nothing for a few days, but the Lord’s took care of me so far. So anyway, here it is.” He sat down heavily on the couch. “Y’all make yourselves at home. It’s got all kinds of storage. My wife had this thing crammed full. It’s amazing, it didn’t all fit in that 1600 square foot house. You can get a lot of crap in here.”
I tried not to snort. “I like it,” I told John Alan as we stepped towards the back. “Look at this shower!” Very nice. “Look at that sink!!!”

“Oh, there’s a washer and dryer too, but we’ve never used it,” the gentleman called from his vantage point on the couch.
We moved back towards the front.
“Lemme tell you what all’s wrong with it so we can get that out of the way,” he says without preamble. “We never used the dishwasher. We intended to take it out and make it a pull out cabinet. Never got around to it, though. About a year ago, and my wife loaded it and the thing wouldn’t hardly come on. Called Lazy Days down there in Florida and my guy said they ain’t worth nothin’, ‘specially after they sit, so jerk it out and put you another cabinet in there, is the best thing you can do.”
JA nodded along.
He went on to tell something about the batteries, and then something about controlling the windshield wipers from the steering wheel. And the cruise control. But everything else is good. There’s a TV that comes down outside, but he’s never watched it. We trooped outside to watch it slide out of the side of the bus. It was pretty cool. So that would be nice, if you’re the TV watching sort. JA asked him about this screened device that was plugged in front of the passenger’s chair.
“Oh, I don’t know what that thing is. Pretty expensive to keep it up, though. My wife could look at maps or something on it.”

He asked what we intended to do with the bus, and JA filled him in on a few ropings he tries to hit. So we did a bit of tire kicking and talked about mutual acquaintances among the cattle end of rodeo. Then he settled back into his chair in the garage pointed at a TV that was broadcasting Fox News. “I’d just as soon listen to these liars as any of the other’ns,” he grouched as he lit a cigarette.
We didn’t disagree.
He started saying again how he wanted it to go to somebody who would use it, and we fit the bill. I didn’t bother trying to explain to him that we weren’t married; that was not a conversation I was prepared to have for the second time in four hours. I asked him where his favorite place was that he’d ever traveled.
He didn’t hesitate.
“My old Army buddy bought an abandoned campground in Utah. He wanted us to come out and help get it up and running again. So we went out, all the waterlines were old and corroded so they had to be dug up and replaced. We stayed out there doing that for three years.”
“Big place!”
“It was, about 300 campsites. He’s added on since. It’s still up and running.”
I shook my head, amazed.
“So that was fun. We’d get up early, and work till it was so hot we couldn’t stand it, about eleven, and go in and eat lunch, then go back out about six or seven or so and work till about eleven.”
Then we got his Army story. He’d joined up, like everybody did back then, with the draft. Or actually, I’m making that part up. I can’t remember if he said he was drafted or not. And he sure didn’t say anything about going to war. But he did say he served 12 years, then bought a truck and drove it till it was wore out, hauling produce out of Florida. He said about the time it wore out and he was trying to decide what to do next, buy another truck, or do something different, another old Army buddy called him up and said he could come back, at the same rank, doing the same thing.
“I asked him, ‘Where do I go?'” He grinned. Pretty sweet deal, I guess.
So that’s what he did till he retired for real. Then they took to the road. After the stint in Utah, they moved to Florida, but came back to Tennessee regular, as this is where their hordes of children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren reside. “That’s why I didn’t wanna move back here, you turn into a taxi service and a babysitter,” he told us as an aside.
This isn’t his first time around the block with cancer, he’s had two previous run-ins with it, but he said he ain’t scared this time, either, the Lord’s seen fit to take care of him so far.
Ok.
It’s good not to worry, I think, but it’s also prudent not to light one cancer stick off another, in my humble opinion. But he’s seen more than I ever want to, and lived through things I probably couldn’t endure even in passing, so that’s for him to deal with. Probably one of his few enjoyments at this point.

JA told him he wanted to take a day to think on the purchase, and he waved his hand dismissively. “Take all the time you need. Only one other guy has called about it, but he said he couldn’t get it till after the first of the year, he’s got a daughter getting married. He ain’t gonna get it. He ain’t got no money!”
That’s the God’s truth.

So we drove back to New Market, talking pros and cons. I liked the bus, but like I told JA, I wasn’t sure if I liked it because it was pretty much a replica of his last one and that’s what I’m used to, or if I really liked it. I knew I liked the sink and the shower. I thought he’d be more comfortable when problems arose having this bus, since he had experience with this brand.
“Well, what I know is, as soon as you set foot in this one, you said, ‘I like it.’ You didn’t say that at the other one.”
“Well, I didn’t like it,” I explained, shrugging.
“I know it.”

Unfortunately, we didn’t stop at Loco Burro or Aubrey’s on the way in, and then he wanted to drink a beer in the hallway of the barn before we walked down and gauged the status of the arena for roping tomorrow. So I knew I wouldn’t be getting to watch the scary movie, dang it.
Then we tried to order the burgers from Hardees with the onion rings, but couldn’t find them, then he decided that was because it wasn’t Hardees after all, it was Sonic.
So there’s that.

All in all, not a bad day. Seems like every time we’ve got something to do, we get good weather for rattling around. I’m glad I’ve got a friend.