This morning felt & looked like January in East Tennessee. What I mean is, it wasn’t super-frigid-freeze-your-fingers-off, but there was a heavy frost. As I drove to work, I took the time to admire all the ice crystals glimmering in the pasture fields & birds sitting close on power lines. There were cattle gathered at gates waiting for their breakfast to be brought around by the bundled up farmer on his tractor. As I drove through hollers, smoke generated by woodstoves & fi…replaces lay low to the ground. There was a stillness to be envied by all those in cities rushing around, too busy to look up (and probably nothing to look at but buildings anyway). I couldn’t help but smile as I looked at the mountain ridge & thinking, “I’ve hiked that…I will hike it again soon.”
So you’re probably thinking I crashed ol Patsy into one of those beautiful bare branched trees, but no.
I pull into the parking lot & I get a whiff of polecat. I speed around the building, hoping it won’t get stuck in my truck all day. The smell just gets stronger. I hurriedly open my door & bail out gagging.
Skunks. Now, that’s life in the mountains.
This morning felt & looked like January in East Tennessee. What I mean is, it wasn’t super-frigid-freeze-your-fingers-off, but there was a heavy frost. As I drove to work, I took the time to admire all the ice crystals glimmering in the pasture fields & birds sitting close on power lines. There were cattle gathered at gates waiting for their breakfast to be brought around by the bundled up farmer on his tractor. As I drove through hollers, smoke generated by woodstoves & fireplaces lay low to the ground. There was a stillness to be envied by all those in cities rushing around, too busy to look up (and probably nothing to look at but buildings anyway). I couldn’t help but smile as I looked at the mountain ridge & thinking, “I’ve hiked that…I will hike it again soon.”
So you’re probably thinking I crashed ol Patsy into one of those beautiful bare branched trees, but no.
I pull into the parking lot & I get a whiff of polecat. I speed around the building, hoping it won’t get stuck in my truck all day. The smell just gets stronger. I hurriedly open my door & bail out gagging.
Skunks. Now, that’s life in the mountains.
Friday’s a good a time as any to go on a rant, isn’t it?
So, last night, we’re sitting there watching the news. And here comes this “Heartwarming Story” about a girl & her prom dress. The girl featured was trying to sell her prom dress for one reason or another. It was really stunning, this brilliant purple number with loads of sparkles & yards of tulle. She said she felt like a princess in it. She put it on one of those Facebook yard sale sites & she got two men making fun of how big it is (size 29). The comments were ugly, but several other people came to her rescue, fighting back & defending the young girl.
Here’s my piece:
It would be great if we lived in a world where no one said anything hurtful, ever. But we don’t. Bullying has been around since kids began playing together. In farm animals, it’s called “establishing pecking order”. The weakest are at the bottom, the first ones to fall prey to predators. Somebody always has something to say. I’ve been tormented since a young age for a variety of reasons: my hair, my teeth, my glasses, my overall nerdiness. People are cruel. It doesn’t get better with age. Teenagers will make fun of you for your clothes, your acne, your vehicle. Even your taste in music. Then the real pressure begins, with drugs, drinking, & sex. I know I’m preaching to the choir here, we all went through some type of prejudice growing up. It’s worse now, I believe, with social media making everything virtually public. You don’t have to post a thing to get embarrassed or made fun of. Someone will ensure that for you. And sometimes it’s not strangers, it’s the people who are closest to you, who know where to cut to bring the most blood the quickest. It may not even be ABOUT you, it may be about the people you love. But I do believe that what we go through toughens you for the “Real World”. Your boss is going to say hurtful things, some you deserve to hear…some, not so much. If you work in any sort of customer service field, you better grow some thick skin because you’re going to hear it all. I had an old man tell me the other day he wished he’d never laid eyes on me (he wasn’t joking, either). His wife gasped, but without missing a beat, I told him I wished the same about him. She said, “Didn’t that hurt your feelings?” I looked her right in the eye & said, “A lion doesn’t lose sleep over the opinions of sheep.” That has become my motto. Only two people’s opinions matter to me: My husband’s, and the Good Lord’s. I haven’t always been that way. Really, it’s only came about in the last seven or eight years. I used to cry all the time. I don’t always retaliate, and sometimes taking the high road is mighty treacherous & narrow. But after so many years, you learn who is worth your breath & who is just trying to get a rise out of you for their own enjoyment. And I still strongly believe the people who are ugly to you are jealous, and trying to keep attention diverted from their own weaknesses & failings.
Those men had no business looking at a prom dress. They had less business picking on a young girl, who for all they know has emotional stability issues. But hopefully she got some perspective from this situation & will grow stronger for it.
Anyway, y’all have a nice day. If somebody wants to talk smack, send ’em to me. I can take it
A long, long time ago, I was the new kid. I had never once in my life been the new kid. I had vowed not to be the weird girl in boots & wranglers ever again, so my first day at Walters State I dressed in a cute little tank top, little khaki shorts, & trendy sandals. (I was not only young, but thin, back then)
My plans, at usual, got wrecked. I spilled my sprite all over my shorts in route to Morristown. You would think this wouldn’t be such a big deal, since it’s a clear drink, & would have plenty of time to dry in that early September heat, but that wasn’t necessarily the case. My shorts were dry clean only. So they had big dark spots all over them. Luckily, I had a change of clothes in my car….a pair of wranglers & old brown boots. So much for fitting in.
Imagine my surprise upon walking into my first class & everyone was dressed JUST LIKE ME!
I didn’t want to be the nerd who sat down front, & the back row was already full of ‘baccer chewing cowboys being rowdy & loud. I sat down in the middle row & tried to be inconspicuous.
Not too long after that, this girl blew in wearing red jeans & a very shiny belt buckle. She sat next to me.
We struck up conversation after having a laugh about always running late. Turns out, she lived in Sevier County too! And obviously, we had horses in common, too. Gaited horses, at that.
It was the start of a friendship that has lasted all these years. Amazingly enough…because on occasion she would try to make me sick by eating stuff without using antibacterial liquid on her hands after working cattle…or clearing her throat while I’d be trying to scarf down biscuits & gravy. Even though she tried to get me killed, repeatedly. Once, by putting me on this stupid Appendix QH she was trying to sell that she was afraid to ride. Another time, she put me on her crazy padded Morgan, bareback, “just to see how she was movin'”. We drove crazy, we rode crazy, heck, we ARE crazy. I have stood with her as she got married, Kmart cups and limos, & she stood by me in mine, sweat dripping. We’ve danced and sang and made up words when there were none appropriate. We’ve cried into margaritas & mudslides, azalea bushes, & horses’ manes. We’ve cried on each others’ shoulders, & I’ve cried on her parents like they were my own. There’s too many stories to tell. We’ve probably had more “stuff’ happen to us than I have with any of my other friends. She’s one of those friends I don’t talk to often, but I could call up in the middle of the night, & say, “What’s that Chris LeDoux song about parkin’ cars in the ol’ pea patch?” & she’d never bat an eye. I hope you have a very Happy Birthday!!! Love ya sis. More than you know.
It just gets weirder all the time.
They are indeed gargantuan. Therefore, they are hogs. They are gray & white in color.
I would like to blame the lack of sunshine for making people crazy, but I know they’re crazy all the time, so that can’t be it.
A little while ago, a lady dressed…shall we say…festively…approached the counter & asked if Big Lots sold fishing poles or something along those lines. We’re like, “maybe…”
Evidently our answer didn’t satisfy her, because clearly, in addition to knowing the merchandise of our own store, we should keep track of all the surrounding businesses. “Do you all live here?”
I was thisclose to saying, “No, I commute from Atlanta every morning.”
What the crap?
Later, this guy gives me his credit card to pay, I indicate the sig pad with stylus and direct him to “sign here.”
“My name?’
……….
I refrained, yet again, from saying what was REALLY on my mind: No, your occupation and blood type, and where you plan to eat supper.
I have saved the best for last, & this isn’t someone I think is lacking sense. He’s about my age and farms. He gives me his debit card to pay. It’s kinda warped up and wouldn’t read, which is not unusual in my line of work because typically they’re dirt encrusted. I type it in. Couldn’t hardly make out the three digit code on the back, but I thought I had it. Nope. Decline.
Try again. Nope. Got it to run, but it declined. I know this guy has money, so I cross my eyes, hop on one foot, pray to the Moon Goddess, and try it again. It worked. He says to me (super heavy drawl, talks slow), “You might have a little trouble gittin’ that to run…I washed it in the washin’ machine, and then I microwaved it.”
I thought I was gonna fall out. I advised him to get a new card pronto tonto, because most people would have given up after the decline, but I knew better. I’m still laughing.
Hollister makes me claustrophobic.
We were at the mall to get my glasses adjusted. I bought them at Lens Crafter’s & don’t trust anyone else to touch them. I also wanted to go get freezer stuff from Sam’s. They were closed (grrr). It seemed like a long way to drive for a five minute trip, so we walked around the mall. My sweet husband thinks I’m a size 6 and that I can wear Hollister stuff, so he goes in to check it out. Their scarves fit me, so I follow. I nearly have a panic attack when this baby in the vicinity of the dressing rooms is screaming bloody murder, and the plants keep brushing me, and it’s so dark you can’t even see halfway to the back of the store, and it’s hot, and stifling, and smells like last years’ cologne and juvenile pheromones. I bumped into a weird wiry girl, I thought she was a mannequin. I apologized and she shook her head back and forth real fast, like she was a refugee or something. Bizarre. I fumble, stumble, and grope my way back to the free air and light, devoid of palm trees & teeny boppers. Geez.
I think that will be my last trip in there for my lifetime.
