Have you ever run a drain snake? I’m not talking about those little hand crank jobs that you get the hair clog out from under your sink. No...I’m talking about that big ol’ mama honkin’ electric job like a plumber uses. We have a drain at the bottom of the back staircase down into the basement that gets clogged with roots and the like and really should be snaked out once a year. Well...it hasn’t been done for three years and this spring we had a mess on our hands.

Sometime in the spring, when I bought a few toys for the kitchen, I came across a fermentation kit made by Ball Corporation. It uses a typical wide mouthed quart jar and this cool spring with a zigzag base that looks like a potato masher. It also has a plastic lid with a vent to release gasses as the food inside ferments.

I was a new widow when I bought my first camper. A little 16’ job with everything I needed. I miss that little camper...the original TOW-Wanda. I still regret trading her in for the big behemoth I own now, but...water under the bridge, you know.

I always wanted a camper although I had never pulled one. I camped in a tent a couple of times and once drove cross country in an old VW Poptop Van, but actually having my own camper eluded me. 

God has a sense of humor. He knows when we’ve had it up to here. That’s when he sends you something so patently absurd, you can’t help but break out into a belly laugh. That’s one of the ways the Great Healer heals...He brings us laughter.

Mr. FixIt and I had a laundry list of things that needed doing yesterday in town...one of which was to mail some overdue greeting cards. There were two condolence cards and a graduation card, so I sat down to write. I filled out the first card and wrote a lovely note. As I prepared to start the second condolence card, Mr. FixIt interrupted me as he was looking for the graduation announcement. We needed it for the address to send the graduation card. 

I believe God places people in your path and gives you an opportunity to share. Your time. Your talents. Information. Faith. Or, maybe just a gentle conversation. Such was the case yesterday.

There’s always a little back story to my stories, so here goes. Last week when Mr. FixIt and I went to the farm to mow, there was a message on the answering machine left by a gentleman who was looking for my aunt. He hadn’t spoken to her in at least ten years, so he didn’t even know if she was still living. His name was Bill, but he didn’t leave a number and we don’t have caller ID on the line out there. After I listened to the recording, I said, “God, nudge this fella and have him call me again, but this time with his number, ok?”

Yesterday was tomato day. I took my soup pot out to the garden and picked every tomato that was ready. With the pot full to overflowing, I headed back into the kitchen and commenced working them up. I thought I would have tomatoes coming out of my ears this year with twenty-one plants, but up to this point...we’ve only been getting a handful at a time. Not enough to do anything with, but too many to eat. We’ve given a few away and we lost a lot to blossom end rot. I’ve been told by experienced farmers that this hasn’t been the best year for tomatoes. Seems about right since it’s the year WE decided to go whole hog.

Part of my new “quest for inner peace” has been exploring the history of my people here in Appalachia. The other day, when I felt so terribly lost and downtrodden in this messy world we are living in, I started reading a book by Foxfire Press about Aunt Arie...an octogenarian who lived in the Appalachian Mountains of Georgia. She was interviewed by the students who comprised the Foxfire program and became...by far...the most beloved and unforgettable character featured in their books.

I can almost feel the stress melting off my shoulders by the moment. After the last few hectic weeks, and then backing off from social media, I am much more centered and relaxed. The fact that the nights have been cooler and we’ve been “camping” out in our field at the Ponderosa. Sleeping in my camper always makes me a happy girl!

When is too much WAY too much? Where do you draw the line and say enough is enough? How do you step back when you just can’t do any more?

I eased my world a lot the last couple of weeks when I snoozed, unfollowed, unfriended, and...yes...even blocked a few people on my personal Facebook page. My decision to stop posting, forwarding, and commenting on anything remotely controversial and/or political helped a lot. I’ve even stepped out of a few chat rooms with really wonderful people for no other reason than I just can’t take one more thing right now.

I worked on my website for a few hours yesterday. The office is across the wall from the television in the family room and my sweet hubby was snoozed out in his recliner with a shoot ‘em up action film going. I could feel every boom to my toes so I turned on my music. The booms melded with the tympani of the orchestra and soon I was blissfully lost in my work. Did I mention I hate television? We have agreed on a compromise. Until my second cup of coffee is done, there will only be old reruns of Andy Griffith on the TV. Then I can go do whatever else I want to do. Win-Win!