Tennessee

The Tennessee sky is high and soft, not like Colorado's which feels close, or wide cast over cornfields as in Ohio. The stars are visible and sometimes powerfully bright; not like the faint constellations over Boston. Tennessee roads are hilly and marked by hairpin turns that are impolite. The yards and acreage are beautiful and often shaggy, not as manicured as the horse farms to the north in Kentucky. Tennessee drivers are cautious, they brake at the first smell of a threat, and to beep is to be downright rude.

Tennessee fruits are abundant, the flowers are surprisingly vibrant and full even though they must abide weeks of dryness.

Tennessee loves its Wal-Marts, tractors, barbecue, guns. Tennessee loves Protestant church. Tennessee's Christian radio scene is first rate.

Tennessee still uses AOL e-mail addresses. Tennessee mostly calls, rather than texts.

Tennesseeans, being inland, will ferret out a swimming hole with a thirst like soldiers seeing a woman after having been entrenched for months.

Tennessee is some of the best of America, beautiful and complicated.

Tennessee is my home of one year.

Metaphor

My friend Selena sent me this picture. My new friend, Selena, whom I keep running into. Our surprise encounters are precisely timed, at church, at the pool, walking on the local path. Today, at the carousel downtown.

Selena snapped this picture of me and when I saw it, my chest sank.

This photo captures perfectly the metaphor of this season.

Because there I stand, firm, while the rest of the horses and smiles and oompa music whirs around me.  I am incongruous, not even supporting my baby on the pony bobbing up and down. She is dressed in her Halloween costume because I woke up thinking today was Halloween. And then I hauled her and her brother all over town wondering why no one else was in costume. I am smiling, waving like a homecoming queen, on a carousel, merry horses bobbing up and down around me, their heads arched forward, but never advancing further another inch.  I stand, I smile, I wave.

The flip am I doing?

What do I do each day?  Bounce around a room, point, yell, draw circles around words that form ledes that form ideas that form furrowed brows in the eyes of my audience.  Sit in my office, point, click, circle, sigh. Drive, arrive, pick up, put down, the horses and Matchbox cars and trains rumble around me. I stand firm, I wave, I smile.

I don't know what I am doing here, in the conserva-patch of this orbiting globe, in this season where I don't know if it is November yet and does it matter since I'm still sweating, in this body where I play grammar guru and puppeteer and kitchen witch and lover all in one day.

But I know I am supposed to be here.  The eyelashes on my eyes, hiding behind sunglasses, are all numbered.  Each and every encounter with each and every person here on the carousel is precisely known.  I will stand firm while the ponies bob and spin. I will smile and wave, and wonder who let me out of the house with those socks.

Field Trip

I would be a petite freckled liar if I told you that I prefer field trips in the sweltering sun with my kids DID YOU PACK ME SOME SNACKS, MOM? to laying around in my underoos and finishing a novel. Or starting a novel. Or getting to the heart-rushing part of a novel SOME SNACKS, MOM? without being MOM? interrupted. But I have enjoyed mounting little day triplets in our new hometown because it sure beats the alternative of watching Yogi Bear outsmart The Ranger for another interminable afternoon. Or preparing syllabi. Oosh, I am so particular about my syllabi. They take me forevski.

Plus! I've had my co-captain in mischief-making with whom to plan our misadventures, which is always so much SNACKS, MOM? easier and lovelier, too. So glad to have this time with Loverpants to explore our new cityscape.

*** Interlude: My mom has a picture of my sister and me standing on a fence bordering the petting barn at Cleveland Metroparks Zoo. She snapped the picture of us both sort of leaning over the fence because she wanted to showcase the matching rainbow sundresses she had sewed for us. And get this: they had matching bloomers. It doesn't get any cuter. Also, you should go to the Cleveland Metroparks Zoo if ever you are in Cleveland. It's sensational. End: Interlude.

*** The Chattanooga Zoo is nothing fancy but it is very clean and shady and we are now members so y'all come down and we'll turn-style through for no moneys at all!

*** I love this picture so hard. The billy goats gruff would not leave Little Man alone.

The Oompa-making machine was circa 1912!

Ruby is a famous carousel poneh and Baby Girl done rode her!

The Oompa-maker scared Little Man so he and Daddy retired to the carousel bench.