Woody & My IBF

I decided to let Harold do his thing and not bother him until this afternoon. I hope to make Opryland in Nashville by this evening. I have never stayed at a hotel with 2300 rooms. In the meantime, got college boyfriend's return email. Would like to have lunch. I wonder whether he's just saying that because he thinks I won't be there or if he really wants to. Must ponder. Did leave cell phone number, his that is. 

News item in Nashville paper (no Chattanooga one, must have erratic delivery): Members of Sons of Sons of Confederate Veterans in Mississippi want to have personalized license plates made. Lots of other groups have them, like breast cancer awareness (are you as sick of pink as I am?) and save the herons or something. The Sons want to have a series for five years. The proposed 2014 one has Gen. Nathan Bedford Forrest, on it. Not ringing a bell? Military genius in the War Between The States (be civil, no Civil). And one of the first leaders of the Ku Klux Klan. "Seriously?", state NAACP President Derrick Johnson said when he was told about it. "Wow." There is an argument afoot that it would take too much labor to make five different plates in five years.

I checked The Tennessean website to make sure I got my quotes right in the story. Here are some other stories:

It's a good thing I am not driving a Chevy, because I would be driving my Chevy to the levee but the levee is dry. I keep on thinking of an acceptable substitute for "See the USA in your Chevrolet." It's hard to find a rhyme for Ford that is at all interesting. Cord, board, bored (!), toward, moored, abhorred? Don't be bored, drive in your Ford?

I decided to go down to The Blue Chair. Have to ask why it is called Blue Chair. Last time I was here, there was a great coffeehouse kind of part and I wanted to sink into the blue chair by the window and type. There is now a frozen yogurt place there. Still wifi, but one must feel guilty to sit at one of the restaurant tables only ordering coffee. It is 10:30, though. I had a muffin (that the nutritionist said was just a round cake), and picked at it. The waitress had laryngitis. When I asked about the story of the blue chair, she said to read it on that sign on the wall. The Blue Chair is dedicated to helping women escape abuse, and they want to provide a living wage, blah, blah, blah... all those socialist things that businesses these days do. But no explanation for the blue chair. There is a mural on the wall with old trucks (gotta love that), one of which has a blue chair in it. And that's it.
Being situated in a college town, they have smoothies. And for the mothers killing time with their toddlers, "dazzling desserts."

As I was driving in the direction of The Blue Chair, I passed the place on the right with an Antiques sign. I couldn't figure out why there were always so many cars in the lot. Looked very closely. The main part of the building had been turned into Amerimedys (or Symedica or something) Hospice. Presumably the antiques were the patients. 

I then drove by a sign saying Franklin County Soil Conservation Area. I never got this concept. Aren't we all supposed to conserve soil (don't walk on it? don't garden? I don't know what)?  I figured it out when the next sign said Fill Wanted.

Then the big stone gates. The Domain Of The University Of The South (no political correctness there, maybe the powers that be "forgot" to raze it). The website for admitted students is headlined Make It Your Domain. The Domain is 13,000 acres owned by The Univers-sit-tee, as the chirpy women call it. There are 1465 people studying at Sewanee. That's a lot of land per student. There is a Convenience Area in the woods on the way to the campus. It was blocked off by a shiny red gate. There was no 7-11 in there, and no toilets as far as I could tell. I wonder what kind of convenience was there.

Anyway, while I was drinking my coffee at The Blue Chair, a lovely couple originally from Canada and now from Chattanooga were visibly excited. Given my propensity to speak with perfect strangers, I asked what was going on. The woman had just published a book. It is about dealing with loss at a young age. She let me read it while she went to the Ladies Room. It was her first and only copy, and she carried it in the cardboard mailer it came in. The book was quite good. I looked it up on Amazon while we were speaking. Did you know you got a rave review? Is that Mrs. Coffeecups?, she asked. Yes. That's my daughter-in-law.

The illustrations are amazing. Her likeness was in many of them, as were secretly significant things. There is a plaque on a lamppost that she had put on her real one in memory of a friend. Her grandmother's teacup. Her husband said she got the illustrator on gurus or guru .com. It's like how I got my imaginary boyfriend. He asked for $300. They said it was too low. He's been working on other of her jottings (she writes diaries, sort of, and she hasn't really thought about publishing them). She was authentically surprised at her own ability. She is, after all, a housewife and mother. I told her I envied her. I do. The conversation went on, and on, and on. I stopped listening after a while, which I rarely do. She took my info because she wanted to make sure that I got my copy for $15 and she'd sign it. Amazon charges more. That is Marilyn F. Struthers.

My new best friend Marilyn told me there are two tea rooms in Tracy City in addition to the Dutch Maid Bakery. Tea rooms? In Tracy City? Yes, you'd never know they were there. The buildings are cement block and they're hard to find. You can't fool me, that is Silence of The Lambs waiting to happen. I wonder who farms the fava beans?

As the lunch crowd came in to The Blue Chair, I had to find another wireless venue. I headed back to Monteagle. As I drove, I noticed one of the Fog Festival heart signs that shows you where to get free stuff. I thought it was in front of a dentist's office. Free Oral-B? I went back and saw that it was really for a psychiatrist. Free Zoloft? The post office had one of those thermometers that gets filled up in red as fundraising goals are met. It was for the Community Chest. I thought those only existed in Monopoly. Seriously, have you ever seen one?

Stopped at Harold's to see if he wanted any lunch. Nope, just got it. Left him to work his magic.

Ran into cute guy in cool car rolling tires. He bought it from Harold. Gas mileage sucks.

Saw dream red truck in Harold's back lot. No engine.


I went back to Modern Dave's and worked off-line. I had his pastrami and some fried green tomatoes. The meat was good, and the fried green tomatoes would have been perfect except he put some sort of duck sauce and goat cheese on them. The sweet tea was sweet enough.

In 3 hours I had eaten:

• A cinnamon bun
• Sausage 
• Fried potato medley (I was at the B&B and they wouldn't have anything like hash browns)
• Coffee
• Decaf coffee
• Muffin
• Regular coffee
• Pastrami
• Fried green tomatos
• Sweet tea

But I also got to read The Sewanee Mountain Messenger.

• Import & Domestic
• Computerize 4-wheel Alignments
• Shocks & Struts
• Tune-ups
• Brakes
• Our Work is Guaranteed
• OVER 26 YEARS EXPERIENCE

P.S. Spell check had Forrest as alternative for forset that I mistyped. See, even Microsoft is in cahoots with the KKK.