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Category: Another Day in Appalachia
Stories that didn’t fit anywhere else.
I know it, you know it, everybody knows it: Actions speak louder than words. But today, I got to see that ugly truth up close and personal. I have a new ritual. Every Friday morning that I’m not doing the secretary gig, I skedaddle down to the International House Of Pancakes to devour crepes. Usually I have a former cheerleader as my waitress, the always bubbly and pert Farrah. However, today, it seemed that I was an orphan, as I had no less than three serving my every whim. I have no idea which one I actually tipped. I was seated by a sweet girl that I would guess is of Indian origin. Indian like Taj. She offered to bring my drink while I looked over the menu. “She’ll be with you shortly,” she promised as she made her exit. “She” never appeared, so instead my hostess took my order (banana crepes with Nutella this week). Another waitress stopped by moments later to ascertain that my order had been taken. I was just sitting there, mildly enjoying the buzz of activity from people around me. The overall mood was one of merriment. I don’t know who these people are who aren’t at work on a Friday morning. They’re of all ages, and I’m typically the only one there dining alone. Frequently there are pairs of men, strictly business, chatting about this joint venture or…
It’s hard to be a woman. To be a fashionable woman, that is. First of all, hoop earrings. I didn’t know so much stuff came in contact with my ears until wearing hoop earrings. And they’re not even that ostentatious size that could double as bracelets. Just, like, nickel size. My fingers, my hair, my bracelets, keys, my shirt…I don’t know. Then there’s scarves in summer. Some women are able to pull off this accessory flawlessly. I am not one of those women. I am one of those women who just look sweaty and uncomfortable. And vaguely strangled. Because I AM. I live in Tennessee. It’s barely cold enough in January to justify them. This brings me to dresses and tops without zippers. That doesn’t sound so bad until ….dressing rooms. And then it’s too late. They slide on easily enough. Just pull them over your head and slither them over your pudgy skin. Maybe five minutes ago would have been an opportune time to try the Spanx shaping garments because now you can’t get it off. You tug, you pull, you cuss, you pray. You sweat. You panic. You wonder who is near the mall that could dash to your aid. You finally give up and hold your breath and jerk and hope you don’t hear a rip. Because then you’re either going to…
About a week ago, there was a post on the Sevierville Speaks Out Facebook page. A gentleman was requesting local writers message him their word rate to write a local article, 2000-4000 words, twice a week. I was tagged by four people. So I thought, I’ll humor them. “Good morning” I wrote, using his name. “I was tagged by a few people on your post in Sevierville Speaks Out. I’m a native Sevier County resident. I worked at the Co-op downtown for 13 years, and now work as a secretary for {I’m not publicly announcing my location to potential stalkers}. I’ve met a lot of local color…some might say I AM the local color. š I’ll be completely honest, I don’t have a rate per word. I have a blog that I started last year. Please feel free to check it out and you can get a clear idea of my style. Amysappalachia.com I have written two articles for our local fair book, an article for 911 magazine, and the feature for the first installment of Sevierville Living. I would be interested in learning more about your position. Thank you.” The message I got in response five days later was clipped and standardized. “Hello. We offer 3 cents a word. If you are still interested, please send you name, address, and a sample writing the 3rd person…
āI’ve learned a few truths in my 38 years on this spinning blue-green rock. When you’re little, you spend your money on toys and candy. In your teens, you spend it to impress the object of your desires, on clothes and other frivolities. In your twenties, you’re driven by alcohol, teetering stilettos, and fast cars. You’ll live in a hovel to have a nice vehicle and clubbing necessities. (Obviously, some of us have a hard time letting the fruity fun drinks go…) The thirties, I’ve found, are for upkeep: home repairs, wrinkle creams, and inspecting what else needs fixing. Massages, hair coloring, and pedicures are vital upkeep to your aging body. In your youth, you are driven by the need for attention. If someone repeatedly rejects you, you learn to survive without them and if they make an appearance later in your life, you resent their presence. You’ve learned to be independent and comfortable in your own skin and need no approval. Be confident. Be assertive. Don’t be scared, be smart. Try to pick a partner who compliments you for more than your beauty, because beauty will fade, guaranteed. If you want the tattoo, go for it. If you’re tired, take a nap. Don’t vacation in the same spot every year. It may feel comfortable, but you’re not learning anything. Spend…
This post is not going to win me any popularity contests but, eh, my mouth never has. Is it just me or has this graduation business gotten totally out of control? Sure, Kindergarten graduation is kinda cute, their little mini-everythings, I get it. But 5th grade graduation? And 8th grade graduation? Give me a break. You have no choice but to go on. You haven’t really done anything. You’re proving you’re getting older…that you did, indeed, learn your multiplication tables. I am not convinced that the majority learns the difference between to, two, & too. Or they’re, their, and there. Or then and than. Or through and though. But I think these are just personal peeves and it doesn’t bother anyone else nearly as much as it gripes me. Am I just jealous? I only graduated twice-high school and college. And they were treated with the proper amount of importance and pomp. But I just can’t get on board with this crap. I think it’s a money racket, just like Valentine’s Day. A complete and utter waste. Totally over the top. Enough with the graduating. Celebrate something else. Like Nobel Prize winners. Or Watermelon Seed Longevity Spitters. Or Most Moon Pies Consumed During A Full Moon. Or Best Behaved Sibling. I mean, something with sustenance. Go on. Slay me. …
In the South, everyone has at least one snake story. I guess they probably do up north, too, but I don’t make a habit of drawing Yankees into conversation if I can help it (Jeannie, you are excluded). And it’s that time of year, snake season, where everybody and their brother is telling about having one in their yard, house, or car. Anyway, here is mine: I had bought my new bedroom furniture and it was delivered and set up while I wasn’t home. I didn’t know that the frame legs and hardwood floors didn’t go together until a few months later. So I had to call the store up and tell them about their faulty installation and make plans for my uncle to accompany them into my home since I couldn’t be there–I had to work to pay for said furniture. The day they scheduled I also had a riding lesson, so I didn’t get home till dusk-thirty. The first thing I noticed amiss was my grill brush lying on the far side of the porch. Normally it’s on the grill stand. My old dog, Crockett, wasn’t acting like he was the culprit, so I just continued on my way up the sidewalk. That’s when I saw it. On the backside of the concrete step was a long, slender, black tail…
It didn’t start off as anything spectacular. Most of those larger than life days are ones you’ve been planning- you know, your wedding, your baptism, your birthday. Today was just another day, technically. It started with this gigantic crow. I was driving to work this morning, noting the shape and texture of the mountains, and reflecting on why everyone loves this area. I mean, think about it. We get hordes of tourists that eventually retire here, artists who just want to paint the scene in all weather and seasons, and then the local people who can’t fathom moving away. So there was this crow. I noticed him because he was swooping and looked like a vulture for a fleeting second. Then I noticed he was being chased by a mockingbird. An extremely irate mockingbird. If you’re not familiar with our state bird, allow me to introduce you. They are roughly the size of a blue jay and not nearly as vibrant but every bit as loud. They were made famous by Harper Lee’s novel, To Kill A Mockingbird. “Mockingbirds donāt do one thing except make music for us to enjoy. They donāt eat up peopleās gardens, donāt nest in corn cribs, they donāt do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. Thatās why itās a sin to kill a mockingbird.ā And that’s true. Have you…
It is National Disptacher Appreciation week. I didn’t even know there was such a thing, but some of you may see where I occasionally like a post on Diary of A Mad Dispatcher’s page & that’s where I heard about it. Anyhoo, in light of Boston Massachusetts, & West Texas, these unseen people are on my mind a lot. I was a dispatcher for about a year & a half & I can count on one hand all the times I was publicly thanked or appreciated. I didn’t ever expect recognition, but when it came, it warmed my heart, just like it does any one of you in your life for a job well done. So, anyway, my point is, you’re seeing a lot of appreciation for the firemen & policemen & they DO deserve every bit of it, but don’t forget the dispatchers. They are keeping up with several agencies at one time, consisting of several hundred men & women. This is in addition to the regular calls that are coming in for car wrecks, accidental cell phones, heart attacks, what have you. If you’ve ever had to make that call, you know how calm that voice is. You plead with them to get help there quickly. You beg them to tell you what to do for the person in distress. And when the…
Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t they all good? š I know that typically it’s a day of fasting and penance, to commemorate the crucifixion of Jesus, that he gave up his life for our sins, and I feel somewhat guilty that I really had a wonderful day. But that’s human nature, I suppose. This one was especially good because it was the first time in my entire working life I was not working!!! My place of employment was CLOSED. Heck to the yes. So I took full advantage. I acted like a normal human with a holiday: I cleaned house, watched a few episodes of Designing Women, then I met some friends at the movies. I drew a blank while purchasing my ticket, which did not amuse the ticketseller. Sigh. After saying, “It’s got animals…it’s set in World War II…” I was able to spit out triumphantly, “The Zookeeper’s Wife!” I thought we were going to be the only people in the theater, but then a couple came in, followed shortly by some guy going on about “sitting right behind them & kicking their chairs.” Turns out, we knew him and his wife, and they recognized us before we saw them. They did indeed sit behind us, but there was no kicking. The movie was paralyzingly depressing, and it was no time…
Today, I sat on the porch. Now, if I were being proper country, I would say I “set” on the porch. But my Grammar Nazi can’t take it. So I sat. And I didn’t do much of nothin’ for one solid hour. I watched the dogs, and I enjoyed the breeze, noting how it lifted the flags and gave motion to the flagpole. I listened to the windchimes and took note of the boldest birds (blackbirds and turtle doves, followed closely by robins and mockingbirds). I watched the cars rush by, and I reflected on how nice it is to have a yard, and a porch, and a home. I admired my flower beds (wildly out of control), and smiled at my redbud trees. I’m proud of them all-two I planted, one I tried to kill because I thought it was a weed. I’m pleased to report it persevered. I didn’t have a book, or take my phone to scroll Instagram (still on Lent, no Facebook). So there are no pictures to commemorate the occasion. But I can tell you, Lightning Bug is restless and pees a lot, and Sugar is the most laid back, easygoing, patient canine on the planet. Bug plops her in the ear and face with his tail, she just scwinches her eyes shut and pays no mind. He walks across her front legs, she barely looks his way…
