Category: Fun

Right on cue, the doorbell rang at 6:00 pm on January 3^rd. I opened the door and five attractive, well-dressed ladies marched inside, all wearing Mardi Gras masks. Immediately they assembled at the bottom of the steps and began at once to sing.  January 4^th is Helen’s birthday (one of those “zero” birthdays). She had no idea this was coming and that’s what makes our friends such a delight.

Last week I posted about our annual meatloaf dinner which was a fun-filled evening as usual.  The next day I got a call from a member of the group and learned that plans were well underway for the ladies to kidnap Helen and whisk her away to dinner at a downtown restaurant. I was so thrilled for her that I could barely contain myself.  January 4^th is a horrible date for a birthday.  It falls too close to Christmas when no one wants to shop and everyone is partied out…except this bunch.

When the singing began, Helen came out from her she-shed study with a smile so large, I was afraid her face would crack.  Hurriedly, I grabbed my camera to capture the moment, but the flash didn’t sync very well and things came out a bit blurred.  Nevertheless, I posted it anyway thinking that the moment, and the masks, gave out an artsy feel.

The masks have been around for a while.  I think they found them on one of their annual girl’s trips to Hilton Head and seem to come out on rare special occasions. I thought this was a place for them, especially since this occasion featured a kidnapping. Those masks are very realistic, and it is sometimes difficult to determine where the masks end and faces begin.  Here is a group shot.  The honoree is somewhere in the middle. Cuteness reigns supreme!

Champagne from a bottle with screw-off cork (loved it) flowed, with birthday cards read aloud.  I retired to the man cave but kept creeping back to the center of activity as the champagne helped bring the laughter to increasing levels of volume with each humorous card reading. Helen received a gift of a handful of quarters. It seems that her reputation as a casino aficionado has spread. I’m sure they will be a source of good luck.

The doorbell rang again. I opened it to greet Roy, a sharply-dressed young man who owns and operates The Southern Gentleman, a personal concierge service.  Roy was the designated driver for this evening, but he also provides a variety of services to numerous clients around our city. Click here for a link to The Southern Gentleman website.

Roy gathered the champagne and helped the entire birthday party into his impressive SUV.  Everyone gave out a smile to the camera and before I could ask what was for dinner, the doors closed and everyone was off. I think Helen gave me a “Goodbye, Honey”, but I couldn’t be sure. Oh, well…it’s her night, I’ll find a baked potato somewhere and basketball on the tube.

Pictures from the evening began arriving by text. One showed Helen checking out a pair of ice skates beside the downtown ice rink. I hoped they were just props, we had enough knee trouble last year.  Another picture arrived showing the partygoers gathered around the bar at Emelia’s, a favorite downtown restaurant.  Everyone appeared to be in good shape.  The last picture I received featured Helen in front of a menu.  I’m not certain if it came from Emelia, but I agree with the sentiment.

Late in the evening, Roy returned with Helen and one of the celebrants who came to pick up her car. Roy had completed his assignment well and said he had almost as much fun as they did. By that time, I was ready for bed, but not Helen.  She was wound pretty tight so I got to hear about each course of the dinner and a thorough discussion of each dessert. It all sounded lovely, and certainly better than a plain baked potato. I managed to slip away as she counted her quarters.

The next day is her actual birthday: happy birthday and all my best to you, Love.  I doubt that I will top this event so I’ll simply close with a big thank you to our friends once again.

We look forward to 2019 with each of them as, together, we go Easin’ Along.

Footnote: On her actual birthday, it was my turn to kidnap her and take her to our favorite Mexican restaurant.  She was treated to a great dessert, a huge hat, and “Happy Birthday” in Spanish.  Ole!

 

I’ve written about this party before. For at least ten years (and probably more), Helen (adorable wife) and I have gathered with a group of dear friends from our former neighborhood in our home for a traditional meal of meatloaf and mashed potatoes. I make the meatloaf and, without bragging, I do a pretty good job. One of our guests brings the mashed potatoes, and they’re equally as good.

This event is always a highlight of the season for Helen and me.  Our time with our friends is special and goes back over forty years when we all lived a few doors from each other and watched our children grow up together. The ladies take a trip to Hilton Head every year and no one would dare miss it. The guys have fished, hiked, camped, and drank together for many moons. Now we share pictures of our grandchildren and share some memories along with a few laughs from “the good old days.” The only difference is that we don’t stay up as late as we used to. Nevertheless, those memories meld together and stir in the mind like a well-seasoned, slowly cooked gumbo.

Helen worked hard and had the house decorated and the table set in plenty of time to take a few deep breaths before everyone arrived.  She even hung a wreath she made nearly fifty years ago when we were living in Germany.  She sent the wreath to a favorite aunt back home in Tennessee and her aunt hung it on her front door every year after that. Sadly, Aunt Anne passed away this year and Helen’s cousins returned the wreath to its creator. She hung it over a kitchen window.

When our guests arrived, we took the party to the annex for cocktails.  (We’ll have more about the annex in future posts.) Things started pretty lively with Helen leading the conversation. The night sky was clear but the temperatures were cold.  The heat in the annex was a bit lacking but everyone was having a grand time and hung in there until it was time to pull the meatloaf out of the oven.  Before we left for the house, I persuaded the ladies to pose for a group picture which turned out well.

Once the serving line opened up, things moved smoothly on to the dinner table.  Helen’s snow village served as low-level lighting for the dining area.  I just wanted to show off the addition of the campers to her village because camping has been a big part of our year and the snow village needed a trailer park.

Dinner went well and the delightful conversation lingered long into the evening. I even had a few takers for seconds on meatloaf and one request for the recipe.  The recipe is one that I found many years ago in an old magazine and I have not changed one ingredient in all of the years I have made it. I only went back through the serving line once so that I had room for dessert.

After dinner, it was time for the Red Hat Award which goes to the male who has had a significant accomplishment or persevered through a tough event over the past year.  Bob, last year’s recipient was on hand to present this year’s award which went to yours truly.  The award was for a successful hip replacement although my struggle was not nearly so difficult as that of the past two recipients.  I also suppose that the award was for achieving three years as the author of Easin’ Along.  Bob placed a notepad and pencil inside the hatband. I am honored and saying so is understating my true feelings.

In addition to the Red Hat Award, Bob handed out candy canes to everyone who needed a cane in the recent past.  Almost everyone in attendance received one—Helen and I included.  Helen posed with Ralph for a great picture as both have had joint replacements. Great idea, Bob!

Time spent with friends and family is time spent well. We love this gathering and hope to continue it well into the future.  Making meatloaf is easy. Making friends is a treasure. Helen and I wish all our friends both here and online a Blessed 2019. We hope to see you somewhere on the road less traveled as we’re…Easin’ Along. 

Although we live within fifty miles of it, I can’t remember the last time I was in Gatlinburg. It’s probably been sometime in the last ten years, but certainly not in the last two. I needed to change that.

For those not familiar with this charming little village, Gatlinburg sits at the entrance of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park in Eastern Tennessee. In the summer, crowds swell, lines form at the attractions, and parking can get a bit tight. It’s not the crowds that keep me away because I love to “people-watch” and the folks that fill Gatlinburg can be quite interesting. Therefore, I have no good excuse for not visiting more often unless I use the “it’s close, so I can go there anytime” excuse.

On this week two years ago, the town of Gatlinburg was ablaze in a wildfire of epic proportions. By the time brave firefighters contained the fire, 14 people were dead, over 2,000 structures had burned to the ground in addition to the 10,000 acres torched in the National Park. I have friends who lost businesses. Some have rebuilt, others are finally getting around to thinking about it now that the shock is over.

On Wednesday of this week, Helen (adorable wife) and I sat around the breakfast table watching a news feature on the second anniversary of the fire. I decided that I should go and see the effects of the fire, and the rebuilding efforts for myself.  The day promised cold temperatures, but clear skies although the area had received a dusting of snow overnight.  I was surprised but, Helen wanted to go as well.  I guess it was too cold for pickleball.

My preferred route to Gatlinburg is to avoid I-40 and travel along Highway 441 so that I can keep the mountains in my view.  In the distance, I could see snow on the higher peaks. There were no clouds in the sky. The usually bustling shopping malls in Pigeon Forge seemed to be in “pause mode” now that Black Friday had passed.  Traffic was steady, but not stopped.

As we neared Gatlinburg city limits, Helen suggested that we take the by-pass and drive to Ober Gatlinburg, the ski resort that overlooks the city. As soon as we began the upward climb, we passed several buildings claimed by the wildfire. We stopped to look at one of the structures owned by some friends. It seemed to me that the passage of two years only increases the sadness of the devastation. I preferred to focus on the view.

Snow covered a portion of the grounds at the ski lodge and machines produced snow to cover the slopes at the rear of the lodge. The temperatures hovered in the twenties and no skiers had made it to the slopes, but a few were warming up for a run. I love to ski, and hope to have the opportunity again but, today was not the day.

Despite the fire, Gatlinburg seemed much like I remembered it from the days when I made regular visits on weekend getaways from college. Many of the motels and attractions had survived, and a few had even expanded beyond what I remembered. The only disappointment was that a favorite restaurant, McCutcheon’s, was now an Italian Bistro. Nevertheless, when I turned to the north, I could see an entire hillside with barely a twig left standing. This hillside is the location of the very popular Sky Lift that carried tourists to the top of the mountain and gave visitors an incredible view of the city and the mountaintops.

The Sky Lift remains, but the trees are long gone. The fire that destroyed the trees also burned a motel belonging to an acquaintance of ours. Having the flames come that close to downtown must have been horrific to tourists and townspeople alike.

Helen and I walked to one end of town and back, pausing long enough for a delicious lunch at the Pancake Pantry.  The Split Pea soup hit the spot as did the cucumber salad.  Half of the sandwiches ended up in a box so that we could take them with us and thereby save room for a stop at the Ol’ Smokey Candy Kitchen, another favorite from the old days.  The rather unfriendly candy maker did break his stoic posture long enough to tell us he was making cinnamon taffy.  We bought chocolate nuggets as well as some chocolate-covered toffee bars, then left before temptation completely overtook us.

Back at the starting point for our walk, we went into the Craft Show inside the Convention Center. Outside the Convention Center, a chainsaw artist created Black Bears. Some of them were pretty cute. Inside, one entire floor featured the works and art of various artisans. I watched while one of the artists gave a demonstration of her watercolor skills. Another lady showed the curious her technique for applying enamel to round river rocks. We avoided the impulse to buy anything but enjoyed strolling through the show.  The crowd was somewhat light.  At the end of our time there, we paused once again to listen to some beautiful music played on a hammer dulcimer.  I have shared a brief portion of the music with you in the video below. You’ll love it.

Gatlinburg is on the way back. I’m glad we went and promised that it wouldn’t be two years before I return. I recommend it highly. It’s a great destination for Easin’ Along.

Near our parking lot, a sign displayed my new slogan for the holiday season. This music gave me a head start. Please share your Gatlinburg memories in the comments section.  I’m certain you have some!