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Category: Another Day in Appalachia
Stories that didn’t fit anywhere else.
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…
Today: (times given are approximate) Time spent cleaning: 1 hour 20 minutes Time spent cooking: 30 minutes Time spent eating: 10 minutes Time spent reading: 1 and a half hours Time spent watching Lonesome Dove: Three hours Time spent hunting the dang staples for my stapler: I DON’T KNOW, I CAN’T FIND THEM AND I AM LOSING MY MIND. It’s not helping I’ve been reading Sylvia Plath for two days…
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. …
So I met this girl the other night while at dinner with Johnny’s friends. I say girl but she was probably my age. Anyway, she doesn’t like cream cheese. This is incomprehensible to me. After she makes the statement, I sit there in shock for a minute and say, “I guess it’s an acquired taste. I didn’t like it till I realized it was in a lot of my favorite dishes. Do you not use it in casseroles?” “I don’t eat casseroles. People hide stuff in them. Like cream cheese.” I look at her husband. He shrugs like, “tell me about it. I’ve been trying to reason with her for years.” “It’s in a lot of desserts, too…do you not eat, like, cheese balls or anything?” I persist. “Nope.” This all came about because we were at a Japanese restaurant chowing down on sushi. Someone had offered her a portion of theirs and she turned it down because it had cream cheese in it. I’m thinking she lives a very limited existence and studying on all the wonderful things she is missing out on, and how she would probably starve at my house. “Gosh, I can’t imagine. I use cream cheese in lots of stuff. Like, I made lemon bars the other day and used a block.”…
I dearly love Chick-fil-a. Really. Truly, madly, deeply. But they have massively screwed up with the addition of double drive thru lanes that merge. I sympathize with the pedestrians in the parking lot, as well. I shoulda went to Frank Allen’s and had a cheeseburger…
I look a little crazy today. I blame the wind. It’s like those Santa Ana winds that drive people to suicide…mine just drove me to indecision about my jewelry for today. I’m telling everyone I’m going with the Johnny Depp look. Shoulda tied a scarf around my arm too, dang it… Also, I wore a lipstick shade that is out of character for me (pink–it was the first one I came to), & the wind was whipping this morning & blew my hair in my face. I worked about an hour, walked into the bathroom, & it looked like a cat had scratched me all over my face. Thanks, coworkers, for the heads up…
While I was sitting in the waiting area of my eye doctor, sans glasses, some wormy guy went walking by, took a double take, stopped, and pulled out his camera. I hopped up & went to the desk, behind the safety of a potted plant. The girls looked at me expectantly. “I don’t want anything, but there’s a weird guy out there, and if I’m gonna hafta shoot him, I’m gonna need my glasses.” They quickly handed them over & one of the girls was like, “What’s he doing?” “Just being weird. I think he was taking my picture. I dunno. I couldn’t see.” (Taking advantage of my disability!!! The SHAME!) She took a card to go out & help him & he went on his way. I love my new optometrist. She took this picture & told me to drink gin & tonic for my eye twitch…
I have never set foot inside a Starbucks. I don’t order sweet tea at restaurants because it isn’t sweet enough. I cry during the National Anthem. Every time. I pray during football games about as hard as I pray any other time. I also cry when we lose. I cry when we win, too. Go Vols…
Walked in the door, the house smells like pork roast & woodsmoke, a delicious combination that instantly brought to mind my mamaw’s house. Lightning Bug came charging up the stairs to greet me before I could even set my purse down. Open my package, & it’s my new bracelet! Life is so much better at home…
Yesterday, I had a hard time all day long. I contribute it to being a Monday, but it was more than that. It started out innocently enough, with my swiss cheese bag that wouldn’t close. You know sometimes how you have trouble? How there’s a little air pocket in the side and it causes it not to be lined up right and screws the whole track up? It was like that. Or so I thought. I started really looking at it after about four tries, and realized the whole blamed zipper side was gone, it was all connected on one side and open. Dang. I didn’t have time to fool with it, so I threw it back in the drawer and away I flew. I made some waffles, and went to pour me a tall glass of milk…and there was none. I knew we were low….evidence of Johnny fixing himself a bowl of cereal in the sink. He NEVER eats cereal before he goes to work. Oh well. A minor inconvenience, right? I drank water. He texts me on his way home that he’s gonna stop for a gallon. Great. I’d already forgotten about it at this point. I get home and awhile later, I hear him in the kitchen grumbling. “What’s wrong?” He’s pouring…
