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Category: Another Day in Appalachia
Stories that didn’t fit anywhere else.
Wanna feel better about yourself? Here’s what I’ve done today: Read twenty pages of my book. Borrrring. Sprayed oven with cleaning kill-you-in-a-can chemicals. Put out one box of Christmas decorations before calling it quits. I’ve decided I don’t feel up to dusting this holiday season. (Don’t worry, I’m still participating in Christmas, just not on as grand a scale as we’re all accustomed). Wondered why Pandora was so long in the making. I believe it’s one of the best things to come into my life, ever. Had a two lively conversation with two old friends. Ate one platter full of leftovers. Retired to couch. Wondered how it got to be three o’clock with me not accomplishing jack squat. Bought a piece of Lularoe. A navy Sarah. It proved to be quite elusive in the finding. Played the addictive game “Two dots” until I ran out of lives. That’s the only reason I’m on here now, I can’t play any more. I even watched the three musketeers video to get a bonus life. Wonder if elves will come clean my oven if I take a nap. Now. Don’t y’all feel productive with all your running around…
J went to Nashville today for a good deed. I stayed home to decorate for Christmas in comfortable pants. I totally forgot the whole reason I got married was to have a boy around to carry all these mega heavy storage containers up thirteen stairs. #ithinkilljustlayheretillhegetsback This wasn’t really long enough to merit a blog post, but it was pretty funny, and, as I recall, true. I have mega decorations in casket sized totes. …
Our weekend: Our water line has had a gradually worsening leak for several years & Wednesday it finally showed up in the middle of the driveway. So we’ve been turning our water on & off at the road since then. Johnny rented a ditch witch & dug almost 200′ this weekend. He is bruised & sore from wrestling that thing through rocks & hard end-of-summer ground. I helped fill the ditch back in after we laid the line & that was plenty hard enough for my tender constitution. I woke up with my arms aching this morning. If you have an old water line, I STRONGLY encourage you to replace it. Like, now. Completely disgusting what we were washing our clothes & bodies in…and cooking with *full body shudder* Paid $6.79 for a gallon of milk at White Star. I don’t know if it’s been that high for some time, but I hadn’t noticed it. I guess because when it’s with the rest of my groceries I just don’t pay attention. I started a 900+ page novel set in New Orleans. (The Witching Hour by Anne Rice, if you’re curious, & yes, it’s wonderful) I cooked a pork roast, corn pudding, green beans, mashed potatoes, deviled eggs, rolls, & sweet tea for the laborers (Johnny & his two friends, including Scott the Plumber) for helping get us back…
Why I take Boyds Creek/Gists Creek/ Indian Gap for my commute instead of the treacherous Chapman Highway: #1) Because if I’m gonna do 45 mph, it’s gonna be on a road with people who are used to it & most don’t have a death wish #2) Because it’s only a quarter of a mile longer #3) Because you never know what you might see. Tuesday I had to brake for turkey vultures dining on a coyote, Wednesday it was a chicken crossing the road, Thursday an unsure border collie, & today a multitude of squirrels. #4) Because that route is still populated by people who wave when they pass you #5) Because it feels like home twenty years ago…a slower pace…less Yankees…more trees I encourage you to try a different route yourself once in awhile. You may break from a mundane commute. #6) it gives me a chance to unwind & enjoy the scenery after work, especially beautiful this time of year. I see something different every day. ***disclaimer*** This particular trek is not for the faint of heart in the best of conditions, due to narrow, winding roads. It is not to be attempted in sleet or snow. Here’s something else I’ve noticed. The road names on Boyds Creek: Golden Harvest…Boyds Creek Meadows…Rippling Waters. Those are features long gone with the addition of these…
Have you ever seen one of those super cute, trendy boutiques in a fashionable part of town & you were too intimidated to go in? It just oozed “too rich for your blood” or maybe gave the impression it would be filled with snooty falooty types. I once knew of such an establishment, but I still couldn’t resist the urge to go peruse it, out of my budget or not. The boutique I speak of was housed in an old farmhouse on the Parkway in the middle of downtown Sevierville. The front porch had gigantic hanging ferns & two welcoming rocking chairs creaking in the breeze. I never seemed to have time to zip in, & plus, I was a little hesitant about the parking situation. But the week before my wedding, I was at wits end for two of my bridesmaid gifts. I was going to the post office & I had a minute. I maneuvered Patsy around to the gravel lot behind & cautiously stepped in the back door. “Welcome,” came a confident voice behind the counter. I smiled at the redhead who spoke. I’m sure she offered to help me, & before long we were chatting amicably about what brought me in. She helped me pick some pieces of silver jewelry out for my momma, & some earrings for one bridesmaid. But there was this cow picture on the wall that kept calling my name. It seemed strange to…
Have you ever seen one of those super cute, trendy boutiques in a fashionable part of town & you were too intimidated to go in? It just oozed “too rich for your blood” or maybe gave the impression it would be filled with snooty falooty types. I once knew of such an establishment, but I still couldn’t resist the urge to go peruse it, out of my budget or not. The boutique I speak of was housed in an old farmhouse on the Parkway in the middle of downtown Sevierville. The front porch had gigantic hanging ferns & two welcoming rocking chairs creaking in the breeze. I never seemed to have time to zip in, & plus, I was a little hesitant about the parking situation. But the week before my wedding, I was at wits end for two of my bridesmaid gifts. I was going to the post office & I had a minute. I maneuvered Patsy around to the gravel lot behind & cautiously stepped in the back door. “Welcome,” came a confident voice behind the counter. I smiled at the redhead who spoke. I’m sure she offered to help me, & before long we were chatting amicably about what brought me in. She helped me pick some pieces of silver jewelry out for my momma, & some earrings for one bridesmaid. But there was this cow picture on the wall that kept calling my name. It seemed strange to…
Aren’t my tomatoes beautiful? They’ve had a hard life. After selection, they got sqooshed down in my buggy, then repacked on top by the cashier. While I was wheeling my cart across the main thoroughfare in front of Sam’s, they took a plunge off the front end and were scrambling in all directions like escaped convicts from Brushy Mountain. I just stood there and watched it happen and eventually threw a hand to my forehead, the very picture of Southern Damsel in Distress Mode. A gentleman in overalls assisted me in the round up of scattered orbs. Little troublemakers. I’m gonna devour them with much more zeal now…
According to some, I’ve lead a semi-charmed life. And I’m sure compared to others, that’s true. But lemme tell you something. I cry at the drop of a hat. I cry when I’m sad, when I’m angry, when someone else is crying, when I’m happy, when I stump my toe. I’ve cried like no other for the past week. I told Johnny I understand now why depressed people have a hard time. I’m fully aware of how ridiculous I sound, I don’t have problems. I have options. But you get on a crying jag, your eyes swell, it wears you down, you can’t concentrate, your head pounds, & then there you are. The next day, you aim to feel better & more at peace, but you’re still all screwed up from the previous day. It’s a vicious cycle! I’m so glad I didn’t have a lot to cry about because I would have never dug my way out from that black hole. So today, I wanted to use up my HSA money before I lose it. Don’t judge, you’d do the same thing. I’ve been meaning to get to the eye doctor, but that’s about as much fun as laying on an anthill while eating a popsicle & letting whatever happens happen. But…
Growing up in the South, you will frequently hear the phrase: “Shit hit the fan.” I don’t think I ever truly understood the meaning until I went to work for Sevier County 911 dispatch. And yesterday, shit definitely hit the fan in Sevier County. Y’all all know Ruby’s burned to a crisp in Pigeon Forge on Sunday, which is hard enough to deal with. It’s terrible when it’s a home out in the county, but when it’s high profile business in the middle of town, you have to deal with all the media, too. And then the helicopter crash yesterday afternoon. You think about that. Phone rings, more than likely it’s someone ABSOLUTELY HYSTERICAL because they’ve watched a helicopter fall from the sky & burst into flames. You can’t believe your ears, you hope it’s someone off their meds but then all the phone lines light up at once as the calls pour in from hundreds of eyewitnesses. You might hear screaming from the victims. The trunk lines fill (that’s 7 phone lines with twelve calls apiece for six dispatchers to answer, if I remember correctly) & roll to the Sherriff’s department. Your first dispatcher starts doing what they do- methodically mashing buttons & maintaining a calm demeanor while in a monotone voice delivers the worst news the EMS world will probably hear all day. And from there, it all goes downhill. And by downhill, I actually mean…
Thoughts I have while walking on treadmill: I should have four miles in about an hour. I can do this. Lalalalala… Should have brought my radio. This would be a perfect opportunity for listening to an audio book. Wonder if I could read a REAL book without falling off? Nah. *Close my eyes & try to envision how it would go* Immediately trip. Regain balance. Wow, the ceiling is really low down here. Wonder what those nails are from? Good thing I’m not tall, I’d be claustrophobic. Guess God knows what he’s doing. These dogs stink. I can’t believe Johnny used to let dogs live in his house. Look at all the dust they generate! Why does he like it down here so much? It’s so drab. Probably because I talk so much. And he can watch what he wants to on TV. (Platoon infinity) How do I turn that TV on, anyway? {It’s a big screen that’s probably as old as I am} Can I Facebook while walking? *Try it* *Become slightly nauseated* Nope. Sigh. How far have I walked? Not even a thousand steps?!? Bull crap! Maybe I could do Instagram. Less reading. Okay. Okay. Okay. Hmm. I’m getting kinda hungry. All I’ve had is coffee…
