Woody & My IBF

Still running out of things to do, I took another trip into Sewanee. Remember, this is about 3 miles from Monteagle. Saw firetrucks in front of elementary school. Slowed down. Not wanting to be a looky-loo, I tried not to notice them, but I couldn't help myself. I have been trying to give away a really nice old fire engine to someone who has a 52 foot indoor space in which to house it. This is not as easy as it sounds. Big garages are 50 feet. I slammed on the brakes and pulled in the school parking lot, into an illegal space (technically it wasn't illegal because it wasn't a space). I approached the boy firefighters.

My kid wants to be a fireman at Sewanee. This is a good opportunity to grease the wheels. I hope it's not too pushy. I walked up to the cab of the biggest truck, and a kid was leaning back with his feet on the truck window sill, talking about his exercise regime including three triceps dips. I stood there. He kept talking. Finally, one of the other boy firefighters was getting a bit uncomfortable with my presence. Can I help you? (at least that's the gist of what he said, I don't remember exactly what it was), and he nudged his buddy. I explained about the fire engine. There was a bit of silence and shuffling around. Then the apparent leader of the group narrowed his eyes and said, so how much do you want for it? I told him I'd give it to him. Yeah, my son is coming to school here next year. What school is he coming from? I told him. That's a good school. Boarding, isn't it? These guys learn to sum it up at an early age. One of them is studying Latin. Good sign. You know, said one to another, this would be a great present for his 40th. It was explained to me that the fire chief was celebrating his 40th year on the job.

I left my card. Afterwards, worried that my blog address is on it and they will probably read this. Well, yes, you have seen my kid's mom write pussy. Deal with it. And don't misuse grammar, punctuation, and various writing conventions like I do. I had to work really had to be allowed to do this. I know the difference. Oh god, this means my kid is going to read this, too. Well, son, your mama's done grown up.

I went to see if the hairdresser uses Aveda color. They don't. Drove back around to go back to Monteagle. Boy firemen huddled in apparent glee. Warmed my heart.

Totally bored out of my brain, even though I love Monteagle and I love Sewanee and I love Tennessee and I love everyone, I needed a change. Decided to drive to iron skillet place. Felt like I was betraying my little corner of the woods. No matter. I drove on I-whatever toward Chattanooga. The turn to the skillet place was at South Pittsburg. That's what it is, not Old, not New, and not with an h. That is where my tip to great barbeque went through. Must investigate.

South Pittsburg is an amazing place. It is the home of the Cornbread Festival. I read that on the skillet sign. It is also the home of the South Pittsburg Pirates that have won many state championships. I read that on the sign for the town. In big orange letters. Later, when I saw the Pirates stadium (?), it was next to an enormous bank of electrical transformers. Coincidence? I think not. Kept on driving through looking for skillet place as I had that coupon.

Drove clean out of town, past the Amish-made mattresses (I didn't know Amish made mattresses, by me they gather eggs and bake pies). Drove by...what? What is that smoke? Where am I? What side of the tracks? That is one gi-normous black thing out there. God bless. It was Isbells BBQ. They make turkey legs. The heavens parted. And then I remembered that I had eaten enough for a small army that morning. I Could. Not. Eat. Another. Single. Bite. Devastation. I couldn't even go talk to them because I can't just go into an eating place and then not eat. I must leave this for my next trip to Sewanee. Hope my kid doesn't get kicked out before I taste this pork.

Passed by fireworks companies. They must make them there if they have a wholesale truck entrance.


There are other great eating places here, and all go with Coke.


I also enjoyed Slick's Gun and Pawn. This is Daryl. He served in the Air Force until 1962. I remember that because my ex started serving in '63. He was a diddy bopper. You know what a diddy bopper is? No, I do not. We did code. Morse code? Yup. Basically, when I think about it, I was a spy. It was declassified in 1993 (or 1997, I forget which). I asked if he had any really great secrets. I dunno. I just passed it on.

These are the other owners (?) of the store. I think one of them is related to Daryl. I spoke to her about what I don't remember but it was interesting. Maybe I'll remember later.



This is Horace's barber shop. It has a red white and blue revolving pole. Don't see too many of those anymore.










AndSouth Pittsburg's restaurants. One is directly behind the police parking lot. I bet they eat the Dagwoods. That'd be the one on the right.


Giddy with discovery, I set out back toward Monteagle. I couldn't find the I-whatever. What else is new? Finally found it. Headed out to find Big Daddy's Fireworks. Right on the exit.

We must be near Alabama. Maybe South Pittsburg is in Alabama. I went into this fireworks store because it is on the right side and they said they have souveneirs. The place is rampant with empty white-painted shelves. You can tell they used to sell a lot of souveniers. They have mammy spoon rests and jockey salt shakers (KKK theme continues), as well as shot glasses, stickers, license plates and jokey books. I picked one up called How To Speak Southern, not for the vocabulary (I'm already bilingual), but for the representation of the speech patterns in words. I caint figger out how to do that. I also found a Hillbilly Recipe Book. It has the recipe for salt rise bread! I'll finally understand what the Dutch Maid girl was talking about. But no time to read right now. Have to move on to the state stickers. They have Tennessee! But they also have every other state. I thought it was supposed to be like Monopoly, that you can't get the sticker until you land on the place. Bought one anyhow. Was embarassed to be buying How to Talk Southern, Hillbilly Cookbook, and Tennessee sticker. I might as well have purchased the rebel shot glass and Aunt Jemima.


Realized I was on rental car road. Decided to risk it and drop the red compact whatever. It went out again in about ten seconds. Must be a shortage of cars here. Tristan was very busy and couldn't talk. Linda (Miss Linda, he said) would take me back to Sewanee. I am praying that Woody is better and I don't have to spend the night in Harold's grease pit.

Miss Linda, a small-faced blonde, had to go get the gas card. The minivan she was using to take me back had less than no gas in it, you know how it looks when it's empty but not really because you have that little reserve after the light goes on? By the way, Woody does not have that little reserve. I can assure you of that. The guys told her it would be enough to get her there and back. Men. Sigh. After gassing up and Linda waiting for me to get out of the rest room (she used it at the car rental place before leaving), we hit the I-whatever again. I was glad she didn't leave without me because in addition to my cosmetics case, she had my Sewanee stuff in the minivan. We had the usual chit chat about what I was doing, how I could afford it, etc. The cancer always comes up. It explains the resume gap. She snatched my hand and began to pray. And pray in the really evangelical manner. She asked that Satan be gone from every nucleus, every atom of my being. It was long, and intense. She later talked about her faith. She speaks in tongues. Faith heals. She is the checker at Safe-Way that fixes people. She sees it happen before her eyes. She has visions. She fasts. Once for 22 days so that she could be near to god. She healed a big, swollen knee that day. She finally got her International Evangelical License. She had to be with a lot of pastors before she could get it. I'm not sure what be with pastors means. I tried to take her picture. The camera wouldn't work. Angel? Satan?

I was eating and praying again. Now where's my loving?

Note to self: Buy firetruck. Just kidding, I really do have one.