Wendi {at random}

When I lived in Virginia, I wasn't convinced it was such a swell place. But now that I've lived in the armpit of America, I think Virginia is just about the most perfect state in the union. It's just beautiful. And clean. And friendly. And it's home. I think it was a priority that I made the trip to Mom and Dad's this week. I'm so glad I did.

Now, the drive, let me tell ya, was no picnic. But the boys were mannerly and content with watching movies for most of the seven hours on the road, and Emma was a well behaved fur dog who slept in the front seat beside me the whole drive, and I love to write in run-on sentences whenever I get the opportunity. We sat through episodes of Star Wars, Bible Man, Magic School Bus, and Rescue Heroes. Then we pulled up the driveway at 420 Poplar Street and home. Within minutes of slamming the car door, Emma was off and running through yards and LOST. Dad and I drove around the neighborhood looking for her, then Camden and I high-tailed it through the neighbors' yards until he spotted the naughty naughty bad dog. Of course she wouldn't come to us when we called. She's not well trained, and that would just be way too easy. So we ran through some more yards a bit like Laura and Mary Ingalls and captured EmmaLemmaLimaBean and walked her home. She's been cowering ever since, terrified of Hokie the beady-eyed dachshund beast and Brandee the ginormous golden girl. They are actually very good dogs who just want to play. But Emma won't go near them.



And here's RELIEF. Relief from healthy food. Fried balogna on white bread with a smear of mayo. Now, I know hot dogs are nasty. And I know, too, that bologna is just a great big fat wiener sliced thin. But when you fry this baby up on high and slap it on the bread, something magical happens. Relief from all the stresses of life.


Here's a smelly picture - can you smell the fresh snapped beans? This smell makes me think of my great grandmomma Stapleton. Her whole house smelled of good southern cooking. And beans are one of the smells I can remember. She lived in a coal camp called Bonny Blue in one of the old camp houses the miners and their families lived in. There was a creek that ran behind the house that Michelle and I wanted to stomp in so bad we couldn't stand it. Mom spoiled our fun, though, and told us no. There was nasty stuff in there. We believed her, but I don't now. :)

Mom and I snapped beans this morning while sipping coffee. She's gonna cook them up in her crazy scary pressure cooker that I have to tiptoe by because I'm deathly afraid of its power. But they'll be worth the fear.



We paid a visit to Michelle's marker today. It's a pretty cemetery, as far as cemeteries go. Not the ghostly kind I played tag in when I was a teenager. It's down in the valley nestled between Norton and Big Stone Gap. I cried when I saw her space. I know she's not there, but just knowing this is her last earthly stop makes me weepy. Sometimes I get angry with her for leaving, and I want to talk to her, to tell her that I think she was a beautiful person inside and out and I wish I could talk to people the way she could and miss her so much. So I sat on her grave and told her all that stuff. Then Benjy wandered over and wanted to know which side her head was on. I guess those things are important to 5-year-olds. You wouldn't want to be laid with your head pointing down. It was a gorgeous, hot day down in the valley, blue skies, puffy clouds, pretty flower arrangements. Mom and I walked around reading the names on the markers. If I was prego - which I am so not - I think I could walk around graveyards and gather names for my baby. Maybe my next dog. We left the cemetery, driving back through the Gap and old Appalachia, remembering the places I'd been as a girl growing up in the country and feeling a bit of relief that Shell isn't sick anymore.