Appalachian American

I stopped by the convenience store I referenced in this post for an afternoon pick-me-up.  (I’ve become quite fond of sugar-free Red Bull.)  I had a little extra cash so I asked for a scratch-off lottery ticket.  I was still $8.00 shy of the ten dollars that the former clerk (allegedly) stole from me.  As my last blog notes, my plan has been to get my money back from them one way or another.

The ticket’s game required that the numbers in each row total either 7 or 13 to win.  The first row I scratched totaled 7.  So did the second.  And the third.  The fourth row totaled 13.  So did the fifth.  And the sixth!  I won $13.00.

I’ve now recovered my stolen $10 and am up five bucks.  Take that, thieving clerk!

“It is SO hot!” said the gentleman I passed, to no one in particular, while walking out of Walmart yesterday at the peak of what was a 90 degree high.

Spring has sprung in Appalachia.

The other day I was driving along the stretch of road in front of my workplace when a car in front of me began veering toward an oncoming median before swerving back into the lane just in time.  The driver seemed to be preoccupied with something off the far side of the road.  I looked to see what was causing such a stir. 

Alas, it was the gentleman I affectionaly call Blockhead.  He was doing something I hadn’t seen before: dancing! And doing it rather well considering he was balancing a cinderblock on top of his head.  (If you’re unfamiliar with Blockhead, read this blog posting.)

Now that spring has sprung, I imagine Blockhead sightings will increase considerably.  Stay tuned.

About a mile from my parents’ home in a southern West Virginia holler there sits a small roadside church with a tiny but loyal congregation. My mother recently noticed an emaciated stray dog roaming around the church as she passed by on her commute to and from work. She began leaving food for the friendly pup, which she named Faith because of her habit of sleeping on the front stoop of the church house. With some attention and care, Faith became healthier. My mother even had her spayed and is finding her a good home. In what my mother called “proof that the Lord makes a way,” soon after paying for Faith’s operation, she was presented with a bonus check from work that roughly matched the amount she’s spent on the dog.

It’s nice to know there are still kind people in this world. And I’m very grateful that my mother is one of them.

I’ve asked before and I’ll ask again: What is it with people?  (Perhaps that would’ve been a good title for this blog.) 

I was at the mall with my mother recently, shopping at the Aeropostale store, when the salesclerk informed us that her credit card had been declined.  Knowing she wasn’t near her limit, and having used the card a few days prior, we chalked it up to a problem on the store’s end.  However, the same thing happened a few moments later at Borders.  Uh oh.

A call to the credit card company revealed that the card had been stopped due to questionable purchase behavior.  Someone had gotten hold of the number and was using it.  And so begins what I hope is not a difficult process of having the unwarranted charges removed.

Ironically, one of them was to an Aeropostale store.  Imagine that.

“Charleston, WV?  Not a bad little city,” said the gentleman sitting behind me in the Atlanta airport terminal after the Delta employee announced the boarding call for my flight.  I was never able to piece together where he and his fellow travelers were from, but I was glad to hear his vaguely positive take on my current place of residence.  Maybe I’ll call the Charleston Convention & Visitors Bureau.  I think I’ve found us a new slogan!