This bag wants to party

A couple of weeks ago Lee came over to my house, boisterous and jovial, bearing a pint jar of moonshine and some odd, food pantry items. His cousins had finished another batch of liquor, and life was good again.

After insisting that I try a sip, he explained that he was afraid that Jason was going to poison me with the muscadine wine "he'd mixed up" and that he wanted me to have "sumthin' good-n-safe t'drank on"

As it happened, Jason and I were bottling the wine that very night, and had a few people over to try it in it's youth. We had a total of 10 liters of wine in the house, and no one was interested in mixing wine and moonshine. (again)

Pretending to sip the moonshine, I expressed my approval and thanked Lee for the pantry gifts. (instant mashed potatoes, powdered milk, gravy mix, rice, THREE POUNDS of dried cherries). I was not surprised to find out later that all of the food had been donated by the Methodist church's food pantry to Lee's friend, who then brought it to Lee in exchange for some substance.. and after Lee took the items he was interested in ("sum lederhosen sausages, a couple'uh'em corn cake mixes, an sum beefaroni cans") he passed the rest to us in a care package. Oh yeah, there was also a new dish towel in the box. ?

Lee crossed the street to his house where his friends had arrived, and we heard every elevated word exchanged between them for the rest of the night.

The next day, Lee didn't emerge till sometime after 3:30pm when he was seen rinsing something in the faucet outside of his house. Fox and I were working in the yard while Rainer napped, and I was glad Lee didn't come explain what was going on. Every time he comes within 10 feet of the house while Rainer is sleeping she wakes up, and most of his "morning-after" stories include an assessment of last night's libations based on his morning bowel movement. Information I could do without.

A few hours later Lee knocked on the door and was clearly drunk. He asked to borrow a can of tomatoes, told me he loved me, then went back to his house where there were four or five cars parked.

Jason and I had dinner, got the kids to bed, and were preparing to go to bed ourselves when I heard noises on the porch and Lee's trademark knock.

Lee bounded into the house as if one Leg was longer than the other, and started speaking in a tongue similar to that of an auctioneer at a barnyard auction. I cringed, imagining the kids were fearing the end of the world, and gestured for Lee to lower his voice.

"Five dollars! Here, take it, take this!!"

Lee was waving a ten dollar bill at me, aiming it towards my hand and jerking his head in the direction of the kitchen.

"Listen! Listen Jeel. Here's five dollar, YOU give ME a five an that moo moo I give yee. Y'hear me? I give you five, YOU give ME five, an at's for the moo moo"

His instructions became more frantic and quantitative; involving on the spot estimates about the cost of a pint of moonshine (based on the $25/a jar figures) and his level of intoxication became evident.

Still unclear about his intentions, I was able to determine that it was the moonshine he had given me in the care package that he wanted. Still untouched, I retrieved it from the freezer and gave it to him, refusing the "five" ten dollar bill in his hand.

His demeanor shifted, and his hands met each other as if in prayer.

"Thank ye Jeel! Man, I dropped my lass jar uh moo moo an I'm in the middle uh partyin! I thought I'd killed it then membered bout th pint I give ye. I giv'ye five dollars for it, but I jus got a ten."

Ah. The $5/$10 conundrum became clear to me. I told him that I didn't have cash and to just keep it, that he had given it to me so it was mine to give away, but he refused. He left the ten on the mantle and returned to his party.

The next day Lee was full of apologies, and I insisted that it was perfectly fine, but he felt guilty about taking the gift back.

"I'll make it up to you Jeel. Somehow".

Sunday Lee came to the door with a huge smile on his face and a wadded bag in his hand. Unable to contain his excitement, he pulled a jar of maraschino cherries from the wad, and handed it to me in the manor of handling the holy grail.
In a hilarious, sarcastic tone Lee exclaimed;

"Check it out Asian Ninenine! I tole you I'd get cha'back! These'll be ready to eat in three days. They'll be RIGHT!"

I thanked him for the moonshine cherries and asked if they go in the fridge or the freezer, and he thanked me again for "spottin him that pint", then headed for the door. Before he left he said;

"One more thing; could'ja do me another favor an write me a letter to the lectric company. I's $29.19 short this month on the light bill cuz I was sick lass month an had to spend money on cough'n cold medicine an I need to tell em I'll pay it back next time. You know, for January's bill. See really I's jus drinkin on that moo moo an spent all my money on it. I can't hardly see or spell to write somethin like at. I don't need it till tomorrow."

I told him that I would.

The letter went something like this:

To Whom it may concern,


Due to sickness and the associated expenses this payment is incomplete by the sum of $29.19. This amount will be paid along with the January 2011 bill as a past due amount.


Regretfully,

The next day he came over for the note. Clearly impressed with the typed letter, Lee said

"Thanks Jeel. Printed an all. Jew eat some uh them cherries?"

I told him that I hadn't since he said they wouldn't be "cured" for another day or so, and he said;

"Well hell, Jeel! You never do what I say till now! I'd been into'em already"

my summer, or summerlee

Thinking back over the past few months is a sweet, hot, quick blur of a memory. My gorgeous daughter was born in March, and that's when everything got crazy. It was actually crazy before that, but having a newborn baby makes every little thing seem like a scene from a movie; a movie you have a major, non-acting role in. Like "Key Grip" or "Best Boy" or "Director" or some crap like that.


After my little girl was born it took forever for me to get back on my feet. Following her surgical birth, I got mastitis in both breasts. TMI, I know, but mastitis is no joke! I was on serious pain meds, plus 800mg of motrin every 6 hours, so the fever and pain didn't appear until the middle of the night when I would wake up in a cold sweat. I chalked it up to the healing process and didn't get treated till a month after the horrid bacteria had set up shop in my junk. It was awful. Luckily the antibiotics worked their moldy magic and it cleared up within 10 days. When I began feeling better it was like having a new lease on life. Everything was fun and exciting after looking at the inside of my house for a month. We collected morels and went to gigs; Rainer went on her first camping trip when she was just 2 months old. I was up for anything.


Fox had his 4th birthday in July and we had a last minute party for him. Little kid birthdays are great because you can do whatever you want, invite whomsoever you want, and prepare whatever you want. Later birthdays will likely be full of the weird parents of children your kid happens to know. No kegs. No BB guns. No carnitas with lime and cilantro. We set up the baby pool and let the kids run wild. Lee showed up and decided to take a dip.



Jason's band "CATFISH MERCURY LOAD" played tons: Ijams Fest, Amp Fest, First Friday at Oodles, Bethfest, Kemmer's Annual BBQ Bluegrass Jam... It was great! Every weekend was busy. Amp Fest was a benefit for Mountain Justice in downtown Knoxville. The festival was in the parking lot of a block of bars, nothing but pavement and broken beer bottles. We told Lee about it and he promised that he would come. After a few hours he showed up on his bike with a crumpled paper bag shoved in his pants-pockets. From my face painting table I watched him arrive, take the bag out, open it and start eating M and Ms by the handful. I was relieved that it was chocolate and not pot.

In no time Fox had sensed the presence of candy and found Lee. Fox had been playing in a dusty parking lot at 90 degrees for hours and was filthy. When Lee saw Fox the look on his face was priceless. Pure disgust mixed with disappointment. He wouldn't give Fox any candy and wrapped it back up in the paper bag and put it back in his shorts, scolding him all the way. He forced Fox over to the outdoor bar and removed his bandanna. He flooded it with ice water from the cooler on the bar and proceeded to give Fox a whores bath right there in front of the crowd. I didn't get a picture of the bathing, but I did get this one of Lee's arrival which I thought was artful, what with the satellite dish on the side.





The entire summer was smattered with events like this one. Parties, gigs, weddings, visits; very little work got done, but it was too hot to work outside anyway. The only real work that went on occurred after each of the appliance disasters we experienced. First the TV went, then the heat pump, then the washing machine, then the ice maker, then the hot water heater.. It was a remarkable chronology of bad luck. We fixed the A/C, replaced the heat pump and the washer, and shit-canned the ice maker and the TV. No one got sick or arrested, so we were able to chalk our bad fortune up to poor quality consumer products.





I did manage to do a little sewing last month. Before then I hadn't sewn since early in my pregnancy; probably last October. Except for a little project I did for Lee. He came over one day with his favorite Superman T-shirt, and his "over-hauls". As he walked in the house was filled with the warm aroma of a smoldering cigarette butt.

Lee explained his idea for modifying his garments and asked if I could do it for him. This entailed cutting the "S" Superman emblem from the T-shirt and sewing it onto the bib of his "over-hauls". I told him that I would do it.

He said "Thanks a lot Jill, you know I'll make it up to you somehow. I just need tuh get it done b'fore tonight. I'm gonna ride my bike downtown an go see 'at show"

I wasn't sure what show he was referring to, but I figured an outfit like that is appropriate for any event or occasion.





Fox thought it was the coolest thing he had ever seen and immediately wanted to change his overalls to match Lee's. I said no. Not till he fully outgrew his Superman tank.

MaternalLee

Pregnancy does hilarious things to a gal. She gets huge and grouchy; hates things she once loved and is compelled to consume revolting foods like V8 vegetable juice and Spaghetti-os. I experienced the rainbow of conditions and symptoms associated with pregnancy this time around, but never realized that relating with my neighbor, Lee would fall into one of those categories.

Things slow down when a woman becomes pregnant, and life's demands are reassessed. For me, all forms of exercise came to a halt, my otherwise healthy diet took a back seat to whatever garbage I could eat without puking, and my obsession with a clean kitchen became more of a theory. Complications early in the pregnancy prevented me from doing anything involving cardiovascular force. The most exertion I expelled was with my 3 year old; lifting him and kicking the soccer ball around, kicking him and lifting the soccer ball.. That type of thing. Around month 5 I began having dreams about sprinting through a grassy meadow, legs extended with the wind blowing my hair and clothes. As I remembered myself my footing became sludgy, and my sprint soon became more like armless swimming. I awoke feeling sad and heavy, looking forward to birth in a whole new way. It occurred to me that my neighbor, Lee and I had more in common physically than we ever had before.


Lee's physique is a geometric and physical conundrum. The angles created by his belly and his hip/upper thigh area are perplexing. The tight drum that is his stomach has the same qualities as a pregnant belly. Pale, silvery stretch marks around the flattened navel, protuberance at the fundus beyond that which seems possible. The harsh meeting of the lowest part of the belly to the groin... Pants which refuse to suspend themselves at an appropriate level revealing a plumber's crack/gangsta sag in tandem. Shirts that don't quite button over the midsection and won't cover the bottom 3 inches of the stomach. All of this occurred to me one afternoon as we were both engaged in the same activity: sitting in the yard doing nothing.

Months 6-9 of my pregnancy were spent in discomfort. My usual activities of gardening, biking, running, hiking and swimming were replaced with sitting, reclining, waddling, and lifting 3 lb dumbells. I was trapped in my body and the least amount of activity made my uterus contract, my round ligaments ache and my sciatic nerves zap themselves into a frenzy, sending lightning pains through my lower back into my knees. I longed to have my body back and promised to work hard at being healthy and fit as soon as the baby came. I noticed that Lee complained about his back and knees all the time. He has a bike that he rides to the store and the library that is electric, but he still has to pedal it up steep hills. Amazing. How could someone with the weight distribution of a reverse weeble-wobble manage to position them self on a bike AND pedal it uphill? I couldn't even look at my bike when I was pregnant. Just seeing the seat made my pelvis ache. I decided to offer Lee a ride whenever I went out.


The next day Fox and I were leaving the house on our way to the library, and Lee was milling around his yard with a backpack. I asked him if he wanted to come to the library with us and he said yes, as long as I would take him by the tobacco outlet and the grocery store. We left the house and were driving down Island Home Avenue when Lee yelled "HEY SLOW DOWN UP HERE!"

I slammed on the breaks imagining I had either hit an animal or hauled ass past a cop, but Lee continued, "Jus up here one er two more houses... THARE! That house right thare!"

He pointed toward a tiny house with a covered porch and a steep driveway.

"Pull up in thare" He demanded.

I slowly eased the truck into the driveway and wondered what we were doing there when Lee explained; "Back in the 70s I put a new toilet in 'at house. I knew th'man who owned it an he give me a lawnmower t'fix at bathroom up"

As I sat there looking at the house, I realized that Lee was relishing the moment. As strange of a point of interest as it was, I completely understood Lee's motivation. He was including me in his life history with an explanation. He continued the story of the man, and how he knew him through his grandmother who lived in Vestal. The man had a few houses in the area that he rented out, and his grandmother lived in one of his properties. He wanted to drive to Vestal to show me his grandmother's old place, but we didn't have time.

Lee told me that one time, back in the 70s, his friend had a baby that refused to nurse and went 17 days without eating. He ordered her to take that baby "up 'ere an see my grandmother", so they went seeking advice about the starving infant. Within a few minutes of their arrival, Lee's grandmother discovered that the baby's tongue was malformed preventing the child's ability to suck. She gave the baby some sort of sustenance and went with it's mother to the hospital. Lee then told me the name of the baby, and I realized that he was still in communication with the child and his mother. The baby's name is Christian, and he is now 12 or 13 years old. Lee invites him and his mother over to eat supper with him a couple times a week and feels responsible for the kid in some way. He even built the kid a bike. As dangerous as that bike is, how wonderfully touching is it that Lee felt like giving it to this kid. He said that he had to "look after 'em" since his granny saved his life.

Feeling teary and sentimental, I told Lee that he was a great friend to Christian and his mother, and to Jason, Fox and I. He looked at me like I had just punched myself in the face and had a bloody nose, then thanked me for the ride and hopped out of the car.

Brand new Baby

I haven't been writing much since the birth of my daughter on March 22nd. Plenty of interesting things have happened, but there's just never a good time. Now, for instance, the baby is screaming her head off. I should go take her from my husband's arms and get her to calm down. That's the thing about being a mother. Maintaining your interests means neglecting your kids to some degree. The thought of going out with friends seems impossible, and if I did have an evening sans children, I would probably spend it sleeping. Isn't that sad?
My son just come in and requested that I accompany him into his room to play with trains.

Don't Fuck with the Natives, or Lee's Rant about 'nam

My Music Media Box

Indo Music Code Generator by musik-live.net

Brace yourselves. This is a bizarre monologue by Lee. Don't read any farther, just listen.


Here's what happened:

Jason walked over to Lee's house the other night to return some plates he had left at our house, and realized he had his his voice recorder in his breast pocket. As soon as he walked in Lee began this explanation of why he never received the millions of dollars which he told everyone about. Those of you who have followed this blog know all about this, those who haven't might enjoy the recording for the sheer drama. Any archived blogs tagged with "wacky neighbor", "crazy neighbor", "lee" or any combination might provide an informed backdrop for those interested, but I'll admit that no amount of information will make this make sense.


The general idea is that while on missions in Afganistan and Vietnam, Lee killed an unstated number of people in a lagoon of some sort, blinded a man-eating, Taliban owned lion with an explosive hen carcass crammed full of "red oak saw dust and broken glass", and was able to manage with the help and direction of an Arapaho Indian Chief.


Because he was committed to the Natives for blessing him with his powers and abilities, he was unable to confront the government regarding the money they owed him for completing this mission. After participating in a Sundance ritual, Lee received a Native Blessing of the "Blue Lights", which have followed him around ever since. Lee has hundreds of these "mystical orb" photographs, and believes them to be Native Spirits protecting him, but when he sees them in photographs of other people, he believes they are negative or otherwise unclean spirits.

He believes that the government has began to realize his connection with the Natives, and that the Native's philosophy of the "circle of life" is preventing the completion of the agreement between the NSA and himself.

Finally, since three of the bodies in the lagoon have been discovered, the success of the mission is clear, prompting the government to finally pay up. Lee mentions that he knows the money is coming since he saw one of the government agents responsible for accounts payable featured in an Olive Garden commercial.

Lee has been biding his time "being secluded and white" and thirty years have passed while he has waited. He is relieved that it's finally over after "[putting] everything on the line for it"

After Lee finished speaking, Jason set down the dishes he was returning, and opened his mouth to speak, but could think of nothing appropriate. Luckily, Lee's ramble continued, and moved on to other matters. Hopefully Jason will edit the rest of it so I can publish it soon.

"Estate Sale", directed by David Lynch

I've gotten into going to estate sales.

Each weekend Jason and I check the paper and look for interesting, local sales and make a morning of it. We find excitement and wonder in rummaging through the belongings of the recently departed, and there's typically older living folks around to occupy Fox, my three year old son.

Last month on one such morning, Fox, Jason and I set out with a list of addresses of estate sales. We woke up early and wanted to get out as soon as we could because it had snowed a few inches and driving in the snow is so fun, but so rare.

The first sale was really crummy, and the next two didn't seem to be happening due to the snow. The last sale was in an area neither of us were very familiar with. I was navigating with the map, and when we arrived at the address it was a muddy, gravel drive ascending a small hill, topped with a broad, aging barn, surrounded by machinery, ladders and golf cart parts.

We figured it was the right place, though there were no other vehicles in the driveway, and the three of us approached the windowless door.

In an attempt to prevent a gust of cold air, we rushed in through the cracked door and pulled it shut in a single, fluid motion. A moment passed as our eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, and we realized that we were in a small corridor, not a vacuous expanse as we had all silently imagined.

The sound of muffled conversation and a fading, clinking noise was coming from the dark corner. Before us was a small, folding table covered with cups and statuettes with price tags attached. An old barrel-turned-wood stove blazed just inches away from the backs of our legs, so Fox naturally gravitated towards it. Jason and I exchanged looks of doubt, and we assessed the items on the table, as there were no other tables or display areas in sight. The objects were bizarre and obtusely overpriced; a leather bottle for eighty five bucks, two elephant bookends for forty five dollars each. Gourd drinking vessels painted with mineral paints, hand blown glass bottles shaped like a rainbow.... It was more like an exhibit of worldly artifacts than a Knoxville estate sale.

Suddenly, a woman with thin, white hair pulled onto the top of her head was upon us, and she greeted us in a mechanically high-pitched German accent.

"Good day to you, and this small boy who loves the fire" she said as she gestured towards Fox, quickly repositioning her hand behind the small of her back.

We said hello and introduced ourselves, then commended her table of antiques for their authenticity and quality. She willed her face to rearrange itself into a smile formation, then asked "What is it that interests you"?

Jason and I looked at each other blankly, and he blindly picked up something from the table and began asking questions about it's origins. I pretended to be concerned with Fox's proximity to the stove, and pardoned myself from the sales pitch.

As I knelt down to Fox's level I realized that there were two middle aged men sitting behind a plywood table, drinking whiskey. I smiled up at the men and asked how they were doing, Fox fully hypnotized by the dancing flames in the stove. The men smiled and asked about the roads, and I told them that they were fine and that no one much was out.

I heard the old German lady describing the Italian leather bottle to Jason, expressing her belief in it's superiority to any other vessel due to it's durability, unbreakability, and that it "WILL not leak, not EVER"

Awkwardly, I praised the strange stove's great dimensions, complaining about my own stove's size and it's need for short, little stumps of wood to feed it, while this stove could accommodate huge log sections.

As if an animation button was pressed, the younger man rose and joined Fox and I on the small rug in front of the stove and began describing how he constructed the stove from the interior of an old water heater. He showed us the door mechanism, and the tubes and dampers he inserted into the base of the barrel for air. The man was absolutely thrilled to be discussing the stove, so we continued on topic for what seemed like forever.

Jason and the old woman had made their way through all of the items on the table and had began chatting with the other drinking man, who abruptly disappeared through a back door, then reappeared carrying a small, wooden truck. The man presented it to Fox who was quickly tiring of the fire, and I took a moment to explain to Fox that he wasn't to burn the truck, no matter what.

The man smiled and pointed towards the truck with his sweating, amber-toned drink and said "Old Ricky Melton's daddy used to make them trucks. He give me two or three an they jus been out here since".

His accent was so East Tennessee that I was almost pulled from the strange, German spell cast by the woman. The woman carefully made her way over to the man, stepping gingerly around Fox and I, and putting her arm around him murmured sternly into his ear, "Did you give that truck to the boy? That your friend has made?"

The man drunkenly shrugged and turned his face away from the woman. She continued pressing the question until it became louder and unavoidable to the rest of us.

Feeling an uncomfortable escalation in emotion, I nervously blurted, "Hey! We'll leave the truck here when we leave! We don't want to take it from you"

The two pairs of eyes seemed to snap up at me at the same moment, and the man said, "waail. I'll take five dollar for it", as if he were doing me a great favor.

There was no part of me that wanted to buy the truck. Not that there was anything wrong with it, but I knew that we would bring it home, then Fox would put it with the other million trucks he had and it would soon be forgotten.

"No, I couldn't! It's an heirloom from a family friend! I couldn't take it" I attempted.

"Five dollar's fine" He said without any trace of a smile.

I knew for a fact that we didn't have any money. Typically when you go to an estate sale it is held by an estate-handling company, and they are A-OK with accepting checks. We just don't take cash around much.

The more time elapsed the more I wanted to grab Fox and bolt, leaving the truck on the rug in front of the stove, but Jason began fishing around in his pocket. At that exact moment the barn door swung open and three college students sauntered in carrying suspicious-looking, "go vols orange" insulated cups.

The younger man stood up and welcomed the trio in, and one of the college kids asked about the golf carts he saw out front. Jovially, the man directed the student through the back door and I caught a glimpse of a john boat on a trailer, and another intact golf cart. The drunk man engaged the other two students, one male, one female about the game and who was winning.

I wanted to leave that place so badly. Jason knew it and he bent down to parley with Fox and I. He held out his hand showcasing three one dollar bills, three quarters, two dimes and four nickles. Hmmmmm. Will this be seen as an affront? I wondered. Will this be the gesture that turns this intoxicated man into a kidnapping, killing machine?

Jason sensed my concern, and as he squatted in the cramped area the seam in the seat of his pants tore. Loudly. Alarmed, I looked at him, then casually reclined myself to access the damage, then narrowly avoided a panic attack by visualizing myself back in my car, driving away, eating chocolate.

The two men burst forth through the back door, and Fox got a better look at the boat, then started harping about wanting to go look at it. Hoping for a distracted exit, I said no, but the younger man heard him and said "Aww! He can go take a look at that boat! Come on!" He reached over to direct Fox towards the door and I glanced at Jason, who simultaneously rose and followed, discreetly pulling his sweatshirt over the seat of his pants.

The college threesome were laughing riotously as they left the building, expressing thanks about something unknown.

Fox, Jason and the younger man reemerged from the back room where Fox was running and squealing, clearly over the scene and ready to move on. Jason had a few bills in his hand and explained our lack of funding to the man. The younger man smiled and looked at the other man and the old woman and said "He wants that wooden truck but all he's got is four dollars an fifteen cents"

The drunker man looked at the old woman with a thoughtful look, and she nodded with closed eyes and her lips pressed firmly together. Neither seemed pleased with the deal.

We gave them the wad of money, Fox grabbed the truck, and we got the hell out of that place.