The Catch-Up Report

The Pedicure: You Have No Idea

The one thing Jessie and I had planned to definitely do was to get a pedicure together. We finally did it yesterday morning when the boys were in a YMCA camp session for a few hours. We went to Black Mountain, the nearest town over, because Old Fort doesn't have a nail place. Old Fort has very few any places. Some. A Piggly Wiggly, a brewery that serves food, a little railroad museum, and some other businesses but not a nail place. 

So. Black Mountain was where we went to a small but very nice establishment where they set us up with our feet in warm, bubbling water. All was going very well and the man doing my feet and the woman doing Jessie's went about their work quietly but when my guy (I never did learn his name) heard us talking about Trump he joined in. I think he has had education in economics and in history and he's also lived in New York City. I also believe he was either born in the US or moved here as a very young child. Anyway, he talked and talked, albeit in a low voice, as he trimmed my toenails and shaved off my calluses and rubbed my feet (heaven). 
He had a lot to say about Trump, none of it good. He had a lot to say about many things and he was quite certain of his facts and figures. Who were we to question him? He kept saying, "You have no idea," as he added to the facts and figures he was presenting. I had at least a passing knowledge of a lot of what he was talking about and he was, according to what I've read, right about it all. The history of Trump's father and his racism and Trump's racism and how Trump's casinos went bankrupt. Now, as to the depth and importance of the NY Mafia in bankrolling Trump, I do not know if all of it was true. Could be. 

Truly, I had no idea.

He did get to a point where I thought a conspiracy theory might be coming next. He said that the world banks control EVERYTHING which made me fear that he was just this close to mentioning how the Jews were ruling it all. 
He did not go there, and thank goodness. 
He had so much to say that I believe I got the longest and most carefully attentive pedicure of my life. 

Going to the Creek

When Vergil finished with work, we decided to go to a nearby creek to fish in and dip in. Curtis Creek, to be exact. It's part of a state park and was very close to where we were and so off we went after Jessie and Vergil packed up what seemed to me to be enough supplies for the apocalypse, should it unexpectedly occur. Extra clothes, water, snacks, many towels, poop shovel...

Which did, in fact, get used. 

We were the only ones there. The park had just recently reopened and people hadn't gotten the message. The damage Helene did to this area is absolutely unbelievable but what's even more unbelievable is how much repair and restoration has been done already. We went down a little steep path to the creek from the road and had our own little world of rocky beach and running creek. 
Being from Florida, I know nothing about rocks and stones. Well, let's just say that everything I know I learned from Emerald Village three days ago. So all these rocks everywhere is mystifying to me. Big, giant rocks, rocks that are plenty big enough to sit on, rocks that are small enough to pick up and wonder at the glittery mica in them, rocks that are small enough to qualify as gravel. And I love all of them except for the fact that my feet are not accustomed to them and I am afraid of slipping and falling and of course that's not all because of the rocks themselves, but of my balance. I realize when I'm in a situation like trying to cross a creek, that I am not nearly as nimble and as able as I used to be. 

I do love watching the boys and Vergil and Jessie making their way across and through the creek beds. The boys are like little mountain goats, I swear, jumping from one rock to another, traveling across the smooth rocks, the pointy rocks, the huge rocks, the rocks covered with algae, the gravely bottoms. 

There is a tradition among Vergil's family to take usually shunned snack foods to the creek to enjoy. Vergil happily carries on the tradition. August and Levon love sitting on a big rock and eating their Cheetos. 

Glen threw a line into the deeper water under the rocks to try and catch a trout and Levon did a few casts, too. 

I mostly just sat on a rock with my butt in the cold water and watched everything and talked to Jessie and and had a hot flash and dunked myself deeper in the water. 

We did not see one other person on that little outing and we all changed clothes, preserving our modesty, when we got back to the truck. The boys had been promised ice cream so on our way back, we stopped at Black Beary's Cafe which is the local ice cream place where everyone got what they wanted. And then back to the house to get ready to go meet the mountain relatives. It was good to see them and Julia, Vergil's mother and I, had our heads together discussing everything from the boys to Helene's destruction to the atrocities going on in the country right now as we ate our kale salads and falafel. Luckily, we are of one mind in those regards. Religion, too. 
And despite all the ice cream, August and Levon managed to tear through a platter of wings. Where do those skinny little children put all the food they eat? 
I have no idea.

I believe we all slept well that night. 

A Visit To The Mountain And A Beautiful Restaurant

Tuesday was really our last day as we had to pack and leave on Wednesday. Jessie took the boys to their YMCA camp and then she and Glen and I drove up to Black Mountain where Vergil's family has owned land and lived for many, many years. That's where Vergil was born and raised. Really and truly born there as his mother had home births too. Julia and I really do have a lot in common. 
We didn't have a lot of time because we had to pick up the boys at noon. The road up the mountain has been mostly restored and Vergil's stepfather with a few other people, even put in a culvert that was a work of art and engineering. Amazingly, although the mountain was one of the hardest hit places during Helene, things are slowly coming back. The landscape will never be the same and the little creek that runs by Julia's house now has tiny waterfalls and the bed it runs down has moved. So many rocks were brought down the creek which became a roaring river during the storm. 
Jessie and Vergil's little place, just a walk down a path away, escaped almost all harm. The RV remained standing, as did the tarp cover over it. It is a cozy and functional place to live. 

Every summer they work on things on the property to move towards their goal of building a house. They have a septic tank and a well. They have electricity, and there's a cement pad the RV is on. This year, they have picked out and ordered a shed where they can store things, where Vergil may be able to make a little office, and where the boys might eventually get some loft beds to sleep in when they want to. They also got a beautiful new washer and dryer which thrills Ms. Jessie to pieces. 

Vergil put up a cool new clothes line and that is going to change their lives. They've been doing their laundry for years at Vergil's sister's house which is fine, but as anyone who does a family's laundry knows, there is nothing like having the ability to do it in their own space. 

We drove back down the mountain after we did our quick little visit and picked up the boys and went back to our cottage, fed the boys (a constant and never-ending activity) and then Jessie went to Asheville for a PT appointment and Boppy and I babysat although you can hardly call what we did babysitting. I read them a few books and then the four of us played two rousing games of Apples to Apples which is a pretty darn fun game. I realized halfway through it that we were playing the junior version. "What's the difference between the junior and the regular versions?" I asked.

"Probably the junior version doesn't have inappropriate stuff in it," said August. 
"Oh yeah," I said. 
"I want the inappropriate stuff!" said Levon. 

We continued with the junior version. 

That evening, when Jessie got home and Vergil got off work, we decided to go out for supper. Why bother buying more groceries when we were about to leave and why do the cooking and clean-up when we could just pay someone else to do it? 
And so off we went to a restaurant in Black Mountain where we ate outside and had delicious cocktails and the kids were able to play badminton or hang out in a hammock and listen to the woman playing music, as August chose to do.

Levon made some friends.

There were pretty gardens with flowers and herbs that Jessie and I walked through.

The food was fine but truly, the experience was the thing. 

I have to tell you- North Carolina is pretty damn woke and hip. At least in some places. If it weren't for the mountains which you can drive off of and die in a horrible and not instantaneous way, I might consider living there. 

It truly is beautiful. There is no doubt about that. 
And seeing how far they've come since all the destruction of Helene makes me realize how incredibly resourceful and strong the people of the state are. I was honestly shocked to find so much already rebuilt and restored, even though you can still see the power of what happened there. 

Great piles of rock and of trees, downed and carried by the floodwaters. Railroad tracks moved off their beds. Houses that have been rebuilt. Roads and bridges that are still being worked on. And great swaths of mountains where you can see the raw scars of the power of the waters. 

That night Jessie and I did laundry, getting ready for the next day's packing up. I read Levon some stories. August was too busy reading his own books and that is the way it is. When I kissed Levon good night I told him, "You are a very special boy and I love you so very much." He nodded. He knows. Oh, the funny things that child says. I have been known to laugh when I really should not have at some of the things coming out of his mouth. I can't help it. I am a grandmother and my job is to just love my grandchildren and let them know that even when they're being a little naughty, I adore them. 
August accepts love in a different way. On our way to supper that last night he told me that his hand hurt between his thumb and forefinger and so I rubbed it for him and he said it helped. And then we talked about chicken and dumplings and he told me that he's had other chicken and dumplings but mine are the best and then we talked about how everyone remembers their grandmother's food as the best because it was made with so much love, just for them. 
He totally got it. 

Saying Goodbye, Heading Home, Getting Home, Being Home

Wednesday morning was all about packing and cleaning up and loading up. Glen and I kissed the boys goodbye as they left for their camp and then I got busy with all the things one does when one is leaving from a week's stay in a house not your own. The beautiful, sweet, precious landlady of the cottage where we stay does not ask her renters to do one thing before leaving. None of this strip the beds and start a load of towels and take out all the trash and make sure the kitchen is neat and the dishes washed and blah, blah, blah. 
So of course Jessie and I feel the need to do all of those things plus whatever else we feel might need doing like making sure that all of the dishes are done and put away except for those in the dishwasher and the refrigerator cleaned out and wiped down and the beds stripped, the blankets folded, towels collected and ready to be washed, hot-tub towels clean and dried and folded and put away, and everything else as if we were competing for Best Renters You Ever Had.

We just have to. 

And oh, the amount of food and clothing and toiletries and books and toys that needed to be packed and loaded up was ridiculous. We shall not even discuss chargers and fans and laptops and so forth. Hats and walking sticks and the knives I always take although the ones in the kitchen there were (dare I say it?) better than the ones from my own kitchen. 

Finally though, we were done and Jessie raced off to get the boys from camp and Glen and I hit the road. We had decided to stop in Athens to spend the night and we stayed at the same place we always stay on our way up. Easy, familiar, great shower. We even ate at the same place we always eat and I feel like that's a no-brainer. It is ALWAYS good. Fresh food, deliciously cooked, and excellent people watching. This is the place where I gauge the newest looks for the "young people" every year. Athens is a college town and the trends are in full display there. This year seems to be about hippie-style. Long skirts, vintage clothes, Birkenstocks. 
I approve.

We walk to that restaurant. It's a very short walk, uphill to get to it, downhill to get back to the hotel. As we said last night, "Well, we did it one more year." 

We drove home today and here we are. The drive was not nearly as agonizing as it usually is and I have no idea why. I read 268 pages of "Harlem Shuffle" there and back and I enjoyed it so much. I think Glen did too. Perhaps that was part of why the drive seemed easier. That book has so much going on. 

And here we are, home again. I am so glad to be here. I want to eat my own food. I want to know where all my things are. I want to sleep in my own bed. I have not begun to unpack. I wanted to do this first. 
And of course, as soon as we unloaded the car, out to the garden we went. We both thought that it would all be done but it would seem we got a little rain and although yes, some of the plants are dead or dying, it's not all done yet.  

Maurice is fine, although more nervous than ever. Of course. Mark spoiled her to pieces and I think she would have been happier to see him drive up than us. But you get what you get. And yes, she did draw a little blood on my wrist but that's just her love language. 

As beautiful as North Carolina is and as wonderful a time as we had there with our sweet family, there is just something so good about being home. I missed my own little backyard with my own familiar trees. I missed my plants, my garden, my kitchen, even though the kitchen at the cottage is incredible with anything and everything you might need and the yard there has a creek running through it, chuckling and singing, and the trees and the plants are absolutely green and gorgeous, enclosing everything and everyone in a verdant, breathing, living ecosphere. 

I'm going to go make some pasta. I can unpack tomorrow. 

Love...Ms. Moon