Sunday, December 15, 2013
We decided to get out of the house and I even put on make-up and earrings and we drove even farther out into the country and passed fields and shacks and mansions and tiny roads with names like Lick Skillet Lane and Bold God Street. We passed churches and horse farms, one with a stable built of one million bricks and I'm sure it has a Jacuzzi in it for horses with sore legs. We drove to Bradley's Country Store which isn't really quite a store and it's not quite a tourist attraction and it's not quite a cafe and it's not quite a butcher shop and it's not quite a gift shop but it's sort of all of those things. You can purchase laundry detergent there and aspirin and Cokes and beer and handmade soap and nice little bags of beans and stone-ground grits and pickled quail eggs and books by local authors, self-published. You can buy Christmas ornament earrings and you can buy sausage. Lots and lots of sausage and almost all things pork including ribs and smoked pork chops and hams. You can buy a sausage sandwich there too, and eat it on the porch or at a table inside. The man who runs the meat shop in the back was glowing with cheer and good humor, his black skin radiated contentment, his face was one you would trust anywhere with anything from your meat order to your first-born child and he seemed to be in charge of the entire store. When we asked him how spicy the spicy pickled eggs were, he said, "I don't know! Let's open a jar!" and he did and they weren't that spicy but they were okay.
I bought grits and pickled eggs. Not quail, chicken. I did not buy: jam or preserves or a cookbook or sausage, cooked or un. I did not buy candy or Cokes or beer or laundry detergent or earrings of any sort.
We left Bradley's and drove through the country into town and we went to Sports Academy where Mr. Moon bought corn for a deer feeder and I looked for boots for Owen. They had a pair but they were cheap and vinyl and I didn't want those. We went and ate lunch, then we went to Bass Pro World. Have you ever been to a Bass Pro World?
It's like a cross between Disney World and Walmart for hunters and fishermen and all sorts of sporty types and I can't even describe it but there are every sort of taxidermied animals and aquariums and Santa was there and a bloodhound who is trained to sniff out human remains (no, I am not making this up- there was a sign) and a woman whose job it seemed to be to constantly wipe the drool from the bloodhound's mouth with a cloth and there were hundreds of people in there and I almost passed out and my mind shot out of my body and hovered up above the store in the sky somewhere and we looked at the little boys' boots and then we had to get out of there, or I had to get out of there. I think Mr. Moon spends half his time in Bass Pro World. Maybe not. But possibly.
I was trying to get out and a man was in my way and there was no where I could go and he seemed intent on not steeping back the one step it would take to allow me to pass and thus, for him to get where he was going and it was so weird. So weird. So weird.
Anyway, I survived and we went to see the boys for a few minutes but Owen had a friend over and he didn't care about seeing me and Gibson had his Boppy and he didn't care about seeing me and they're probably tired of seeing me. We came home and I am making the oddest soup in the world and I'm not even going to describe it but trust me.
I just want this day to be over. To be done. There is no soothing me today, there is no place of calm in my soul. It is just one foot in front of the other, chop this, cook this, wash this, fold this, eat this, go to bed.
I have tucked up my plants as it may freeze again tonight and tomorrow perhaps the sun will shine.
Oh let there be light tomorrow. Let there be some light.