Remembering...

My grandfather passed away last December on the fourteenth. Christmas, I think, was his favorite time of year.  He'd upwrap presents and give them the obligatory look-over, and then get back to what he really loved--watching the rest of us and setting the scene in his big, beautiful home.

So, here's to my grandpa:  the complicated, sylish, bigger-than-life rascal.  We miss you.

They Canceled Christmas

Actually, it was just the last day of school before Christmas Break. The day of our annual Christmas Party. When, traditionally, I wear these:








We were supposed to arrive, overly excited, chomping at the bit for ridiculosity. A few of us would take a test (hopefully not two tests! Oh, procrastination!). Then we would change into our snow clothes, go to the field and zoom down the hills on our lime green brand new saucer sled... I'm guessing everyone bought the same color as me because, honestly, why would you choose any other color?

Then we would grow numb with cold and exhaustion and trudge back up to the school. We would change our clothes and toss them around to dry and it would look like someone's hall closet exploded. We would sip hot chocolate and apple cider and eat junk until noon when we would watch the younger grades' Christmas play... They've worked so hard and now it's been canceled twice!

After this, the pizza would arrive and, again, we would eat junk. By this time we will all be feeling giddy/nauseous from high fructose corn syrup poisoning. A few of us would compete in wrapping-paper-tube-fencing. Gifts, cards and love would be exchanged. I would haul my frozen-solid Christmas turkey home and thaw it in the passenger side floorboard of my car, as is my custom, since there is no room in my freezer for it.





That's how it went in my head, anyway.

Sick Day

Well, it appears I have succumbed to the constant germ-barraging. Here's to CoCo Wheats, finishing this traumatic book (if she doesn't get out of all that trouble soon, I'm going to pitch it. seriously. can't take much more), and getting some online work done. (Hel-lo, Apartment Therapy...)

.Black.Friday.

To celebrate this weird cultural phenom that is competitive shopping stuffed up the rump of a turkey called materialism, I have assimilated an xmas list of my own gimme-gimme's:

• This bento box

• Ikea pendant lamp (design!)

• cases and cases of Limonata

• a pack that fits my back

• a fox jam print

Peace on Earth, goodwill to consumers.

A Field Trip

Went to the Oil and Gas Museum today. Loved it. But there was one room that really stole my heart. A weird and slightly creepy room.



Old worn wood smell. Oily cast iron. Flaking tin ceilings.




Lovely, lovely apothecary shelves. And tell me with complete honesty you've never wanted to glide on one of those rolling ladders before. You can't.

And there was a romantic/industrial skylight. I spent much more time in this room than the others...especially the creepy basement. Horror movie stuff down there. Definite "vibes".




It was a grand time. You should go. Oh, yeah, we learned a lot, too. Of course!

On the Way Home

I took the scenic route.

The conference finished up just before noon, and I was at loose ends. Too late for church. Husfriend at work. Was trying to avoid the horrific situation at in the basement.

So I decided to take the back way home. The WayBack way. I drove Rt. 33 and Rt. 14 back to Parkersawfulburg. You know, I didn't get carsick at all until I was in the dairy section of WalMart. Hm.

Aaanyway, it was great. I drove my little car around those turns and listened to my music and smiled the whole time. So beautiful.

I saw a sign for "Historic Buffalo Log Church" and thought, hey, that's for me. I turned onto a one-lane patchwork paved road and looked around.

A house.

I decided I would go a mile and if I didn't see it, I'd turn back. At one mile, there was an old couple (yes, they were actually old, not relatively old, and I'm only mentioning it because they passed me later in a flurry of gravel) unloading their four-wheeler and strapping on their helmets (so cute). The gentleman told me it was three miles ahead, which was confirmed by the sign he pointed to that read: Buffalo Church 3 miles.

Let me tell you. Just after that sign, the road turned to gravel and got steep. Not Dolly Sods steep or Pickens steep, but, yeah, it was intense. There were cows. There were bulls. And calves. In the woods. It was so dappled and lovely, even with storm clouds threatening. You should have seen it.

Then the church at the top, on a ridge.







I need to find that man and ask why the Log Church wasn't made of logs, but that's another post.

There was this:



There was a huge spider. Yes, I left the door open a crack.



This:


Oh, yes, they did...

And this:


The event was already past, but, look, it says they need donations. So help out, if you feel inclined.

And to cap it all off, I saw a scarlet tanager. Excellent drive.

Back Home...for a While

So, is it just me, or does the basement drain back up with sewage only on the night before dayshift/fun things out of town (say, Writers Conferences)?

Oy giminee cricket for the love of goodness vey!?!!

But that's fixed. Still cleaning...but it's fixed.

So, the Conference, right? Waaaaay too much to talk about, as usual, but I'll hit on some highlights:

- the lovely and talented Renee Nicholson and Natalie Sypolt, back again with writaliciousness. Scored three workshops.

- always love a workshop with El Presidente Eric Fritzius. Podcasting this time...

- discussion panel called "The Appalachian Inquisition" with Irene McKinney, Denise Giardina, Daniel Boyd, Norman Jordan, Gretchen Moran Laskas (love her!), and Tim Noland. Does an authentic Appalachian voice exist? Is Appalachia a myth? Hmmm...

- pitch session with an honest-to-goodness, award-winning agent...! Hyperventilated. I'll let you know.

- got to catch up with the incredible Granny Sue Holstein

- laughed at the banquet with my table of friends until we nearly shot tea from our nostrils.


Sigh. And now, it's over for another year. I dearly love the WVW Conference...