Smokey Mountain Breakdown

Or.... The Goat Yoda and Rosie do K-town...

So. Yesterday was a really super day for me. I don't get out much, you know.

Betsy and I spent the entire day in Knoxville and had a great "girl's day out".

We started out at Betsy's church, Saint Demetrios Antiochian Catholic Church in Mechanicsville where I think we were supposed to be helping with a cookout and ice cream social for the local area homeless. But the Cloistered Heart Franciscan Sisters seemed to have all the bases covered.

And while these aren't the same sort of nuns I grew up with in convent school...these are much nicer nuns...there is no way I'm gonna wrestle a spatula away from a penguin. I tell you, that just ain't gonna happen.

So we just sat off to the side and chatted. I really wanted to help but there didn't seem much for me to do except be there and be supportive. I'm reminded how the faces of the homeless in K-town seem to show the same sort of wear and tear of those who live the hard life of the mountain. But it must be so much harder for them being cramped into the city.

After that, Betsy took me to the huge wonderful bookstore called McKays. I found 2 huge oldish cookbooks for 4 bucks. It's the sort of place I used to spend hours and hours in and most of my money before I became a card carrying library fanatic. I just got to the point where I had to put myself on a book budget. I was running out of space for the things so now only very carefully considered books get in here permanently. I'm still on the lookout for that first printing of The Joy of Cooking. They didn't have anything that old...or the 1962 printing. I need both those books. They took the possum recipes out of the 1962 printing , which is why I need both.

Then we went over to a Mexican restaurant called Don Pedro's or something like that. It was really good. And sort of exciting for me. I've been out to eat at a real restaurant maybe 20 times since 2003. It's a real treat for me. I'd forgotten things like the annoying ritual of all the waiters coming out to someones table because somebody told them it was their birthday. The huge sombrero comes out and all the waiters have to converge on that one table and sing some company sanctioned version of Happy Birthday.

It's just sort of surreal to me. Like Disneyland.

But by far, the highlight of the entire day was ordering the margaritas.

Our waiter is this adorable blond child who, I'm quite sure, has a mother several years younger than I am. He takes our order and asks about drinks.

Betsy is driving so she orders a virgin margarita. Cute little waiter turns to me and I pipe up, "Well, I'm not driving so I'll have a REAL one!"

I haven't had a margarita in probably fifteen years if not more. I now want one, frozen and as big as my head with lots of nice crunchy salt on the rim. Something like I used to enjoy when I lived in Dallas when we used to make them in Slurpee machines by the pool, before engaging in impromptu, bad synchronized swimming.

Then, adorable waiter says, "Do you have your I.D.?"

"You are carding me!" I squealed in delight to the entire restaurant really loudly.

This kid is now my best friend ever!

We went for our wallets like gunslingers. He told Betsy he didn't need to see hers, but she insisted on being carded too. I don't blame her.

It was a really wonderful time out in the wilds of civilization.