Our big shindig for the Co-op was last night. We’re a pretty mild sort, but we always manage to have a good time.
I really wasn’t sold on going this year, as it was on my day off & I like to hermit up, but J enjoys it more than me. He says we’re “a good crowd”. He doesn’t see everybody daily like I do, so I put our names on the list. Just about everyone always shows up. And we all try to dress up, even if it’s just our best boots, jeans, & a button up or sweater. Last night was no exception.
In the past, we’ve had our picture taken (by yours truly) in front of the Christmas tree wherever we were, played a game, sang a song, or just had general merriment & fellowship. We have had our annual get together in several locations over the years, from the back room at Golden Corral, to Cowboys on the lake, to the Legion building, to River Plantation’s meeting hall, to right here at the Co-op. We’ve been so poor some years that the Christmas dinner has been a potluck. And that’s ok. The food isn’t what’s important. The catching up with your coworkers about non-related Co-op stuff is what counts. And to see their families growing. I remember the year of our renovation; we didn’t really even have a Christmas party. We ate food provided upstairs on our lunch break. It was pretty sorry, especially after all we’d gone through that year. We seem to be settled on the Civic Center now, though, & that’s perfect. We have room to spread out (usually there’s almost two hundred of us, including a bunch of kids), it’s close to work, & we don’t have to worry about making a mess.
So I didn’t necessarily go to pick up my bonus, or get a store-supplied gift, or eat the pork tenderloin & smoked chicken. I went to show solidarity with one of my coworkers, for one, but also to show appreciation to our boss for throwing us a proper Christmas party. So many companies don’t do squat for their employees, let alone their employee’s family. Clint makes sure to speak to each & every one of us, shake whoever’s hand. I didn’t catch him kissin’ any babies last night, but he’s got his own to kiss. I always smile all the way home, laughing about something that happened, typically someone being teased mercilessly. We aggravate the pee outta one another, but most of us have worked together so long it’s the only way we know how to act. People come & people go, but there is a core group that remains. Last night, Mark was gracious enough to read us the true story of Christmas, & it was wonderful. I hope that all of you have as good a time at your gatherings as we do at ours. And I hope you have as special a work family as I do.
The big tree is standing proud at the Johnson Plantation. So far, it has only been bedecked with 1,000 lights. I’m thinking it looks pretty good & that might be all that happens to it.
Kidding!
Sort of.
Here’s how it happens every year:
Me: “Are we doing a live tree or a fake one this year?”
J: “I like the live ones. Don’t you?”
Me: “Yes. Can we go cut one down at Hal’s?”
J: “Why can’t we just get one from the store?”
Me: “Because it will be fun to go cut one down.”
Silence.
He wears me down over the next few days & I start scrutinizing the ones at the store, & he comes by to pick up my selection. I always have eyeballed the biggest, tallest, fluffiest one that’s still under 12′.
“That’s huge!”
“No, it’s not! It’s perfect.”
Then he calls me Clark & tries to steer me toward the piddly 5-footers.
Eventually we compromise & get a very full 7′ one.
And I come home & it’s all set up & ready to decorate. And I put on It’s a Wonderful Life or Home Alone or National Lampoon’s & get to it.
A new white F250 pulls up to the front doors. I get excited like a puppy.
“Is that Shannon? Do you think he brought me food?”
Shannon is a horse customer of mine who hails from New Orleans. He is an amazing cook of all things Cajun & occasionally brings me treats.
“No, he’s wearing a cowboy hat, it’s not Shannon.”
Another one of my regulars comes through the door. “I like your brush guard,” I tell him, then realize how ridiculous this would sound at any other job/ store.
So I had to share. You can giggle, ‘s alright.
Day 29: The Night of Your 21st Birthday
We-ell….
By most peoples’ standards, it was fairly tame. But hey, I had a blast!
I was dating someone at the time who was not a drinker, & he reluctantly released me to a few friends & a night on the town.
We started on the Cumberland Strip, like any 21 year old with any sense. I’m not entirely sure who all was there, but I do remember putting salt INTO my tequila shot & staring, mesmerized, as it fizzed. I had obviously had more than one shot prior, with salt where it’s SUPPOSED to go, on your wrist. And I don’t remember what else. But I do remember the tequila. I think we had dinner at Sunspot? Then I remember wanting to go foam dancing & being gently coaxed from that decision with promise of another bar. I’m thinking O’Charleys? It used to be a happenin’ little joint. I can only partially blame my memory loss on alcohol, this was many moons ago. I *think* that was as much bar hopping as we did, & headed back to a house in Sequoyah Hills, where one of my friends was house sitting. There was a hot tub, which I briefly visited with a..wine cooler?? Bottle of wine?? Not sure. Then I remembered I hate hot tubs, probably due to my high blood pressure. I think they made me take a cold shower before I went to bed…I don’t think I ever got sick. Honestly, I couldn’t tell you. But I do know I had a great time!
I am purposely not naming names here, because they are some of the finest moms I know these days & no way would I tarnish their reputation! And no, not a one was Lisa, she was living in Missouri.
I My bestie was looking for an epic shout out on my Facebook for her birthday. I’m not feeling especially epic today, but I’ll give it my best shot.
Lisa is a Yankee. Like, dyed-in-the-wool of Cincinnati, Ohio. She once called to tell me that Kroger’s had bagels on sale. “Lisa, for the last time. I am from the SOUTH. I don’t eat bagels & cream cheese, I eat biscuits & butter.” I mean, this was just a few years ago. She’s been here since 1994. My first impression of her was not good. She looked like this other girl that had moved here the year previous & turned out to be a total…you know. But Megan’s goal in life was to make friends with every new person who darkened the door of Seymour Middle School, so by association, I was obligated to make nice as well. Turns out, Lisa was just as big a nerd as I was (am). So we’d hang out for days on end during the summer, playing card games, riding horses, & “cooking” (cooking consisted of what Lisa dubbed “drooling sandwiches” due to the content of mayonnaise & mustard). We also dared each other to eat stuff, like expired chocolates from Valentine’s Day with hot sauce on them. We also fancied ourselves quite the photographers. If it wasn’t equally embarrassing to me I would totally post a few.
It was much different at Lisa’s house than it was at mine. For starters, she lived in a subdivision, which was intriguing to me. We would take walks around her neighborhood for entertainment. One day, I happened to look down & saw this old glove that had been run over a few hundred times. Believe it or not, it had been squashed into a bird sign. As in, the other fingers were folded down, but the middle one was straight up. We knew no one would believe us if we just told them, so we went back to her house for the camera. That was way back when cameras took film & the bare minimum time you had to wait for it to be developed was an hour. So we begged & pleaded with her dad to take us to Walmart to get the whole roll developed for that one picture. And people STILL didn’t believe us when we showed it around.
The other thing was while I was used to staying alone at my house & it was usually fairly quiet & calm. I lived with my Grandmother, & she worked second shift, so when I got home from school I had the place to myself (it was okay, I was responsible as a result). Lisa’s home, on the other hand, was a different story. First of all, she lived with her parents & her granny. They all had plenty to talk about, & I was new to them, so they had plenty to tell me.
At the same time. So they got louder & louder to be heard over each other. One day, we’re sitting in her bedroom & she’s like, “I’m thirsty. You want a coke?”
“Sure,” I said, getting up.
To my surprise, she starts screaming. “Mom!” No response.
“MOM!”
Nothing.
“What are you DOING?!” I hissed.
The door comes open. “What, Lisa?”
“Bring us some cokes.”
I am MORTIFIED. I know my face was ten shades of red. But Lisa’s mother acted like it was no big deal & a minute later is back with two fizzy glasses of coke. I couldn’t believe it. Her momma continues to be as good as gold to me, passing along books & barbeque on a regular basis. I called her the first time I ever mopped a floor to make sure I was doing it right.
So, although Lisa was raised in the north, & we couldn’t be more different, we are just enough alike to get along famously. She was my saving grace during the wedding proceedings. She stayed with me the night before to help get everything done & we were up at one at the morning decorating the arbor under which we would be standing. She threw me a fabulous shower & a bachelorette party in downtown Nashville. She’s been by my side during every major life event I’ve had. We know each others secrets & passwords.
She’s the only sister I’ve ever had. And I hope she has a wonderful birthday & doesn’t feel a day older than she does the day she stepped into life in the south 21 years ago.
I missed my writing challenge yesterday.
Day 26: Things You’d Say to an Ex
Well, y’all know me, I don’t let no grass grow…to one I’ve said pretty much everything I care to say. Including the infamous note ending with, “p.s. I took the cookie dough, you b@$~*9”
To another I would say, “Did it ever cross your mind that you should pay me back?”
But to ALL I would say, “Look how happy I am. Maybe if you took some lessons from Shug you could find happiness, too.” I’m not bitter, & I’m not sorry for the experiences I’ve had, but I do feel that I’m where I’m supposed to be.
Day27: What You Wore Today
I’m pretty dull looking. I wanted to be easily recognizable as a Co-op employee (I would have worn overalls if I had any that fit) so I’m in khaki pants, a navy Co-op collared shirt, & grey (I only spell it gray when I’m describing the sky or inanimate objects. I don’t know why.) tennis shoes. I have on my “perfectly imperfect” bracelet, my crown ring, & hoop earrings from Shug. My hair’s up in a twist, which sounds fancy but it’s not. And, as usual, my heart’s on my sleeve. More on that later.
I would like to poll all the retail people working tonight. I wonder what percentage of them don’t mind being there as opposed to ones who would rather have the day off.
Plenty of people work holidays. Surgeons, nurses, policemen, paramedics, firemen, soldiers. Dispatchers. These people actually make a difference. They are the ones who are there for the “big deals” in life, not the “big deals” in possessions. So when they sign on the dotted line, they know that they are making a commitment to be there for someone else. Even though their family would like to have them safe & sound at home, someone else NEEDS them. So they go. They leave what’s important to them & go to work & maybe save a life.
I would also like to poll the shoppers tonight. I would ask if they have ever been forced to work on Thanksgiving.
I’m just curious. Because it seems like if you’ve ever had to work one– or someone close to you–, you wouldn’t wish it on anyone else. And you wouldn’t support it. But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I don’t understand how important it is to get your child a game that’s selling for $50 bucks off tonight only. A game that your child will undoubtedly tire of by February. And maybe that child would have a monumental memory made tonight with you if you had stayed snuggled on the couch watching a movie or reading a book or decorating a tree or helping wash dishes. But what do I know?
I just know what I see.
And I see greed.
I would like to poll all the retail people working tonight. I wonder what percentage of them don’t mind being there as opposed to ones who would rather have the day off.
Happy Thanksgiving Eve!
For those of you who are told to bring rolls, or just yourself, be thankful.
For those of you making cole slaw for the first time, I have advice: reserve one-quarter of the cabbage head in case you screw up & add too much vinegar or salt. Or mayo, but I like mayonnaise, so I don’t see that as a problem. But there ain’t nothin’ nastier than salty cole slaw.
For those of you making mashed potatoes: make double what you think you’ll need. And add milk sparingly. It’s hard to cook it out if you add too much. Use salt & butter liberally.
For those of you cooking biscuits the secret is prayer.
It helps to sift your flour, too, but I believe it really it comes down to your relationship with Jesus.
For those of you cooking turkey: cook your bird upside down. I am not joking. It makes the white meat much juicier. My mom discovered this by accident, but it’s the way she always fixed it thereafter. And me too.
For all of you, Happy Thanksgiving. May it be relaxing & filling.
