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Category: Another Day in Appalachia
Stories that didn’t fit anywhere else.
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 don’t do one thing except make music for us to enjoy. They don’t eat up people’s gardens, don’t nest in corn cribs, they don’t do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That’s why it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.” 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? 😉 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…
There’s two things I can’t ever seem to get enough of: books and margaritas and… Well, nevermind. There’s lots of things I’m a greedy little hog about. But two of my great loves are tattoos and oysters. And I was past due for both. I’ve been eyeing pretty heavily some tattoo designs on Pinterest. I want to be sure, you know? Like, really sure. It’s so permanent and all. I haven’t regretted any of my other selections, but that’s because I agonized over them for months, or years, even. I am prime real estate, & He ain’t makin’ no more. I’ve been hung up on swallows ever since Hannibal Lector was schooling Clarice on them. (However, my recent Google search showed that it was roller pigeons, not swallows. Dammit. But swallows are the same concept:they dive for their meals. For the sake of my story, we’re going to continue on like it was always swallows, because that’s what I’ve been envisioning all these years). And I was researching the meaning of swallow tattoos, and the birds in general, and found that I liked everything I was reading about them. They symbolize coming home, true love, the arrival of spring, and a host of other wonderful homey things. The blue ones signify optimism. They eat sixty mosquitoes an hour. Hello…
This time last week, I was prone in the bed, down with the flu. I don’t mean I was cool with it, I mean I was unable to be up and about. I was down. Typically in my life, when using that term, it’s been to describe the ailments of some sort of livestock. Indeed, I felt like a cow ready to be put out of misery. You see, I’ve never had the flu. I am one of those disgustingly well people everyone loves to hate. I suffer from an occasional bout with allergies, which have abated since my unvaried use of antihistamines. Drugs are amazing. But I have mistakenly believed that the flu was when you were throwing up, congested, feverish, and in the bathroom with the other. While this is partly true, if you have the misfortune of having both the flu AND the stomach flu, mine was of the coughing and elevated temperature variety, which is plenty bad enough. It started on Tuesday. I blamed my bad decision of leaving the window open the previous night during the thunderstorm. I had a little cough. Nothing serious, just a short *cough, cough* into my fist every now and then. By Wednesday, it was a little more frequent with a little more force. My attitude was disintegrating, as I evidently picked a fight with Shug over dinner. Thursday afternoon found me with my head on my desk, hoping I had…
I have a skewed system of favorite holidays. Thanksgiving has been my favorite for a few years, because it’s low maintenance. Oh, I cook. I cook my ass off. I cook for Johnny & I only, after some drama with his momma a few years back. In the interest of remaining Switzerland for him, I don’t visit my family, either. For the first couple of years running here, then rushing off to there definitely dampened my spirit-especially since I had two days of retail hell to look forward to immediately afterward. But now I stay in comfortable clothes, and the wine is open by eleven, music -just a little this side of loud- throughout the dining room and kitchen, and I’ve got the turkey in the oven. We may eat at two or we may eat at six. Last year, we had some friends stop in to help devour what I’d prepared and I felt like a normal adult, doing the thing. It’s the one time a year we eat at the table. My next favorite holiday is our anniversary (I get lilies delivered to work and dinner wherever I choose). Then my birthday (again, because I don’t have to cook), then…then… St. Patrick’s Day. Not Christmas. I love Christmas, I love the meaning and I love decorating for it but I don’t love how people tend to…
You may or may not have noticed I’ve taken a brief hiatus from this blogging thing for a few weeks. As some people post every day day, I may have taken liberty with the word brief. Well, whatever, I’m on here now. Here’s the thing: I dearly-as in truly, madly, deeply- love to write. But this blog sucks the enjoyment from it. I feel the need to have a topic, which was never an issue on Facebook, then the pressure of pictures-not just any ol’ snap-as-you-go shot, but a thoughtfully plotted and executed image that thoroughly summarized whatever the devil I’m waxing poetic about. Then the links. Dear Lord, the links. I’m an Amazon Affiliate, which means I get about half a cent from every dollar you spend on Amazon if you click via one of my oh-so-convenient links. You don’t have to buy what I’m advertising, but make your way to checkout from starting where I put you. I haven’t made one red cent yet, so y’all ain’t bought nothin’. And they’re firing me. Here’s the latest thing I want, in the event you feel sorry for me and want to buy me something to make me smile. http://amzn.to/2mfTTYp See, I don’t even know how to do it, it’s…
I love American Pickers, in case you didn’t know. I hope they stay current on their tetanus shots. We watched the entire season (except the season finale) of Alone yesterday. The History channel makes this cable business worthwhile. If we forget to DVR the last episode of Alone Thursday night, I will potentially inflict harm to something. I don’t know what yet. There is a bottle of Texas Pete on the coffee table. Johnny has forgotten about it, but will remember when he reads this. Why are they called coffee tables, reckon? I googled a lot of stuff today. It started with Excel taking my numerical data out of cells and replacing it with the date. I was all for blaming a poltergeist but turns out it’s programmed that way. Weird. Then we came across a social security number that started with “003”, which sounds fake, or George Washington’s social, but with the aid of Google I learned that that is what people who are born in New Hampshire are branded with. Also, the 000’s, 666’s, and 900’s are not used. Neither are some 700’s, because they were retired after something happened with the railroad. (??) I mean, you just never know what you’re gonna get with me. I celebrated 8 months at my current job today. That’s quite the feat, considering I didn’…
