this is a page for
Category: Another Day in Appalachia
Stories that didn’t fit anywhere else.
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…
You ever been driving along, into the sunset perhaps, & thinking how glorious it is? And you wonder if other drivers around you have even noticed the gorgeousness? Or when the sun has those slanting rays through the clouds & it’s like a spotlight to a distant point ahead? Or when the air is so clear you can see the frost on the mountain, & the mountains behind it are a crisp, visible line & you’re sure, just positive, if you had binoculars you could find a deer picking its way along a ridge? Today this hawk flew up out of a holler & right across the highway in front of me & a couple of other vehicles. And I wondered if I was the only one who noticed. Or if they just saw a bird, with no idea it was a hawk. I don’t know, I see deer & turkeys all the time on my commute, I would call it commonplace, but no one else seems to pay any attention. I don’t know what I expect them to do, though. Wave their arm out the window & point…
I’m told the Powerball is 800 million. Johnny asked if I picked up some tickets. I gave him one of my blank stares. “Let me tell you how that would go: ‘I need to play the lottery, please,” I would inform the Pakistani gas station clerk. And he would ask me something that I don’t understand, so I would point to those scratch offs in desperation & he would rip off some & I would have to buy those too.” “They’re five dollars a line.” “And I don’t know what that means, either.” “You can pick your own numbers or the machine can pick them.” “Pretty sure I don’t trust computers. So then I’d be having to come up with numbers other than seven, & that could be problematic.” “Don’t worry babe, me & the guys from work went in on some. We’ve got 15 plays.” “But then we’ll have to split it with all theeeeemmm….” I whined. “You might as well say 500 million, split five ways, 100 million for us…you think you’d even notice?” “I’m gonna be like Monica on F.R.I.E.N.D.S. & hide some extra.” So I’ve been planning what I’…
I read an interesting post yesterday about not comparing your life to anyone else’s because Facebook is their highlight reel. I agree strongly with that statement. However, let me tell y’all somethin’. You know as well as I do that I’ll tell just about anything. That’s how it is when you’re an aspiring writer. Not much is off limits. So here’s how today went: Slept way too late for my own good. Still up because of it. Also because I chopped a red onion about an hour ago & my nose hasn’t stopped running & my eyes are still watering & no way can I go to sleep with all that goin’ on. Started laundry. Ended up making three trips up & down stairs that my Fitbit didn’t recognize. I don’t know why it does that. To mock me? Grrrr. Ate enormous bowl of Cocoa Puffs because I was too lazy to fix actual breakfast. Watched a segment of Titanic. I started it Saturday. I’m not very far. I think the last thing I watched was where Rose is partying with the Irish down in steerage. Got my book finished so I could have it back by the due date because my friend Brenda is waiting on it so she can read it & come to book club because I’ve been hounding her about it for…
Home is a relative term. If you’re in your hometown and someone asks where you live, you will perhaps give them specific directions. Say I see you at Food City in Seymour, I would tell you I live behind the high school. If I’m in Knoxville, home is Seymour. If I’m in Atlanta, home is Knoxville. If I’m in Asheville, or Savannah, or Charleston, I might care to explain I’m from a small town near Dollywood. People from away are always fascinated that I’m from the same county as Dolly Parton. If I’m on the West Coast, home is simply “Tennessee”. If I were to travel to Ireland, “home” would be the United States. I’m arrogant, but not so much that I would expect them to point out the South on a map of the world. And if aliens abduct me, planet Earth would be close enough for me. So if you move away from where you’re born, but leave behind your family to cleave to your beloved, of perhaps to just a new life, then you hopefully have two homes. Hence the phrase, “Going home for Christmas,” the same as going home after a long day at the office. Home is where the heart is. For years, home was where my horse was, because my heart was my horse. I’ve been home…
I hear songs in my head all the time. I’m sure many of you do. Different circumstances provoke a line or two. If in conversation someone says a familiar phrase, it’s sure to remind me of some song that was popular ten or twenty years ago. For instance, Yankee & I were standing at the counter several weeks ago, & one of our regulars walks up with a part in his hand. We both greet him & reach for it simultaneously. He waffles between us, shuffling from one foot to the other, indecisive. “I guess I’m just gonna dance,” he laughs at himself. “You can dance if you want to,” Yanked tells him innocently. She’s only 21. Me, on the other hand…I immediately burst into song. “You can leave your friends behind. Cause if your friends don’t dance then they’re no friends of mine,” I sang, hopping around in accompaniment. (Sometimes you get more than you were shopping for at the Co-op. Sometimes you get a song AND dance for FREE). Anyway, I haven’t worn my wedding rings all week, except for a few hours yesterday, & my ring finger still has a smooth, pinkish colored indention. They’re not too small, they’re just snug enough not to slip off when my hands are wet. I guess it’s just because I…
