Chattanooga for the Win

After over a year and a half of pandemic life without travel, Eric and I went, with a Ziploc bag full of cleaning products for the hotel room, on an overnight excursion to Chattanooga. The ‘Noog holds a special place in our hearts, as it is the first place that we traveled together as friends back in 2008. Since then, we’ve made many getaways to Chattanooga...for beer festivals, for Chattanooga Choo Choo Christmas lights, for concerts (Jason Isbell and Band of Horses), for minor-league baseball, and for major league food (Urban Stack, St. John’s, Public House, Tupelo Honey). This occasion was for Eric‘s birthday.

We had a late start, what with me dropping Booker off at sleep-away camp (his vet), and Eric waiting in line for the first-Saturday-after-the-third-Monday ABC Store bourbon allocations (I’m not making that up). Then, there was traffic. So much traffic.  We were staying downtown at the Courtyard by Marriott, overlooking the river, and close to everything:  food, baseball, attractions. As I was checking into the hotel and Eric was parking the car, I discovered that the Chattanooga Waterfront Triathlon (a triathlon Eric has in the past competed in) was scheduled the following day.  It just so happened that the START / FINISH line was located one block away. Our hotel was full of athletes and bicycles.  It took me almost a half hour to get our luggage and Riverside Wine and Spirits’ purchases up to our seventh floor room because there was only one working elevator. Eric had to circle away and around to find a public parking lot that wasn’t already filled to capacity...eventually we accidentally ran into each other in the lobby.

Agreeing upon a shamefully early and incredibly safe dinner, we ducked into the Mellow Mushroom for one of our greatest hits from the past, a Greek salad and gluten-free Philosophers Pie (which is no longer on the menu, but they happily offered to make for us). Post dinner was spent walking across the Walnut Street Pedestrian Bridge, venturing down on the north side of the shore, and then trekking back across the bridge to our hotel room for a quick rest before the ball game.

Philosopher's Pie, Mellow Mushroom

AT&T Field, which is home of the Chattanooga Lookouts, was one block away from the Marriott. The visiting team was Alabama’s own Huntsville Trash Pandas.  Our carefully researched seats behind home plate (good view and netting to protect against wayward baseballs) gave us one of the best vantage points that we’ve ever had at that field. With a blue sky rapidly filling with storm clouds,  both teams took turns scoring until, during an impressive stadium wave started by persistent Trash Panda fans, the Lookouts hit a home run, resulting in three runs being scored. The Trash Pandas attempted to make a comeback, but their momentum seemed to have vanished. Rain scattered fans into the tunnels below the bleachers, sending some running, never to return.  But the game continued until the top of the ninth, which is where it ended with the Lookouts victorious. We triumphantly poured with the crowd out of AT&T Field and made our way along the streets back to our hotel room, where we were able to catch (without wait) the one operating elevator.

The next morning, as some brave-hearted individuals triathed their way throughout the downtown area, we researched popular gluten-free breakfast options.  We landed on the well-reviewed Bantam + Biddy, known for their gluten-free chicken and waffles. As we approached the restaurant, a gentleman with a mohawk and a bouncer / manager-vibe opened the door for us.  At the counter, I launched into, “I have a severe gluten allergy, and I read on the Internet that you guys have the best gluten-free chicken and waffles. I don’t see that listed on the menu as being gluten-free, but I was curious to know if that’s something I could…”  I trailed off hopefully.  The server’s immediate response was, “That’s what we do here!'' Which was seconded by the mohawked-bouncer-manager-doorman’s confident, “You came to the right place.”

Gluten-free Chicken & Waffles, 
Bantam + Biddy

So, gluten-free chicken and waffles for each of us!  With a bourbon pecan maple syrup chaser!  The chicken was perfectly fried...lightly crispy on the outside, juicy on the inside.  The waffle tasted like it was full of all the gluten in the world, which it was not.  And the bourbon pecan maple syrup was like liquid bourbon pecan pie.  If I could’ve bottled that meal up, I would've worn it as perfume. Instead, I boxed it up and took the leftovers home, getting two more meals from it. And just like that, Bantam & Biddy made it to our major-league food list!

Sam J. Kourkos

Photo by Eric Wright, December 8, 2017.

One year ago yesterday, Eric and I were honored to be on the same flight from Atlanta, GA to Kansas City, MO as the remains of a WWII soldier who was killed in the Gilbert Islands in1943.  With a cold Southern rain on the verge of turning into the snow that would later shut the airport down, we watched silently and prayerfully from the window of the plane as Marine Corps Reserve Pfc. Sam J. Kourkos boarded in his flag-draped casket, flanked by salutes.  My thoughts on that flight were of our grandmother who had passed away the month before and whose memorial service we were traveling to attend, and of this soldier who died so long ago and was on his way to be reunited with family, seventy-four years late.  This was a homecoming for Pfc. Kourkos.  A homecoming that would end for him at the airport in MO, where family and media waited. When our plane landed, he disembarked ahead of us into the brilliant Kansas City sunshine, while we, spellbound, watched from the windows until the flight attendants had to ask us to please disembark the plane ourselves so they could allow the connecting passengers to board. 

74 years later, slain WWII Marine's remains returned to family

Funeral Announcement For Marine Killed During World War II (Kourkos, S.)

He died in battle nearly 75 years ago — now he’s coming home to Kansas

The 1965 Simmons Hide-A-Bed

I've been a lover of all things mid-century for many years, probably because I grew up in a home filled with sturdy, modest mid-century furnishings, and was raised by parents with solid mid-century lives.  It all just sort of rubbed off on me.  I also have several friends who have purchased mid-century homes, which I drool over when I visit, dreaming of the decorating, landscaping and entertaining possibilities.  Martinis and jazz, anyone?

So, when I discover mid-century pieces at local thrift stores, I have an instinct to purchase whatever it is for myself, or to photograph and text my friends to come purchase for themselves.  Which brings me to the mid-century Hide-A-Bed that I found at the local Goodwill three years ago.   It was a dusty, tired mess, but solid and heavy as a rock.  A quick search on Google revealed that it was a 1965 Simmons Hide-A-Bed Tuxedo.  Everything was original, right down to the upholstery, the small arm pillows AND mattress (frightening, I know).  And it was $65.  I convinced Eric that it was the perfect piece for The Bungalow office/guest room, that I would pay to have it re-upholstered myself, and that we would all three live happily ever after.  And one day I expect that he will stop taking my phone calls.

Three hours later, after the Simmons Hide-A-Bed gouged our wooden floor, scraped two of our door frames and drawn blood from the movers (my forgiving husband and my truck-owning friend), I made the decision that I would teach myself how to re-upholster the sofa myself because it was NEVER leaving the house again.  And really, how hard would it be to re-upholster a sofa...

With new mattress purchased, I began to research DIY re-upholstery and discovered a blog post by Abby Metz at DIY Design.  Abby’s determination, resourcefulness (reusing tackstrips and such) and attention to detail resonated with me.  The only thing missing from her post was how to recover the cushions, but that was something I was able to figure out on my own by taking apart the cushion covers myself (labeling and numbering and reusing the original zippers).  Abby’s blog post was perfect.  I read and reread it for probably a full year before I finally pulled the trigger on my own project. And it only took me two years to complete!  Seriously, it didn’t take that long...I just worked on it in two phases because, you know, life.  I tackled the cushions last summer, then upholstered the body this past January.  It is Booker’s favorite sofa to sleep on, which freaks me out because it’s like he knows all the work I put into it and he tries to psych me out by kicking off all the pillows and burrowing frantically under the pet cover we keep on it to protect it.  Many a night Eric and I will search for the dog only to discover him hidden under that cover, laughing at us.  

Fresh from the Goodwill!

Taking apart the cushion cover.

Cushions complete.

Pre-upholstered body.

 

Removing the back panel.

 

Removing the arm upholstery.

Removing old batting.

 

Fitting the new arm piece.

Cutting the front kick panel.

Pulling the front back off.

Going off script for the back.

After two days and sixty adjustments.

Done.

Where's Booker?

Right here.

Waking up.

Still waking up. Or he's laughing at us.  I don't know which.

 

Retaining The Bungalow's Backyard

We are one step closer to having our patio off the back of the Bungalow.  This, after three hard weeks of moving a bunch of dirt, setting temporary block steps, building a retaining wall with 6'x6' posts, moving more dirt to allow us to put in two drainage systems (one along the front of the wall, one to take down-spout runoff under the patio, both spilling into the dry creek bed), moving even more dirt back to approximately its original spot, and then praying for everything to work during our first rain storm, which happened last night.

We used about thirty eight-foot 6'x6's, a gazillion two-foot pieces of rebar, three long pieces of perforated/corrugated pipe, three sections of PVC, elbows and connectors and endcaps (oh, my), a fortune's worth of deck screws, and sacks and sacks of drainage rock (which pained us both greatly...store bought rock *sigh*).

Thankfully, on the first day of groundbreaking we had some friends stop by to dig some and help set/level the first course of the wall (which was very helpful since I discovered during our first purchase trip that I couldn't comfortably lift a 6x6.).  We were thankful for the help.  From that point on, we tried to work some on the wall each night after work and each weekend.  For three weeks.  Now, we will have a concrete patio poured on top.  But only after we get a few more estimates.  And then we'll build the tin roof (...rusted! Guess the name of the song!).  And maybe in the fall we'll start on the second, lower level of patio, which is part of the Liz Wood/Finlayson Landscaping Design master plan for our backyard.  Liz knows us well and designed our yard with DIY over a couple of years in mind.  We love her for that.

Jeremy Jackson and Eric, digging.

Dave Hyatt, Jeremy & Eric, leveling.

Booker and the dead men.

 















 

Booker, Eric & the steps.

I may have strained my biscuit a few times during the project.  Eric had never heard that saying, which prompted me to look it up. As it appears to not exist anywhere in normal English language, it must be a phrase my mother or sister coined during the late 70s, early 80s, a phrase that has stuck with me all my life and represents the vague act of pulling generally everything in one's body.  Usually, straining one's biscuit and then sitting for a spell result in a person finding themselves stove up...It's a Southern thing, I'm sure.  Or maybe it is a Roark thing.

This retaining wall was paid for almost in full with gifts/gift cards saved from our engagement party back in October of last year.  So, it is a wedding gift to us from some wonderful friends and family.  We look forward to sharing it with them soon.

In case you forgot what the backyard looked like, here is a before and after:

Home is wherever I'm with you...

Embroidery sampler gift, made by Bridget Page.

On November 1, 2014, All Saints’ Day, Eric and I exchanged vows at the Gadsden Museum of Art with most of our family and our closest friends in attendance.  The ceremony was epically and blessedly short (five minutes), and was hilariously cheered on midway through with a cry of “YAY” from the smallest of our guests (Anna Kate evidently cheers after the “amen” part of prayer when she prays, which may be both the most impossibly adorable thing I’ve ever heard of AND most sensible.  I may drop the “amen” and adopt the “YAY” for myself in future praying), and a standing ovation (what awesomeness!).   This five-minute ceremony left us plenty of time to eat, talk with guests, and dance with a handful of the most hard-partying youngsters, most of whom were under the age of ten.   Our wedding week was filled with cooking and communing (we opted to cater our own gluten free non-rehearsal dinner on Friday evening and the wedding reception on Saturday…could not have done this without the expert advice and assistance of our dear friends Todd and Dawn Rains, who cater professionally).  It was magical!

And although brother and sister-in-law McKenna and Steven jokingly claimed that our wedding would be covered by the Gadsden Times, friend and columnist Glenda Byars did give us a nod in her weekly column:  "And on a crisp autumn Saturday, Carol York and Eric Wright were married in a unique and precious ceremony. The bride was beautiful in antique white and the groom was appropriately handsome and smiling. Carol said later, 'The saying is correct, Eric: Home is wherever I am with you!'"

Photo used with permission, copyright Elisha Page.

A Weekend in the Woods

Eric's approval for our cabin at Monte Sano State Park.

We couldn’t get out of town fast enough this past Friday.  A very late birthday trip for Eric and a week made of Mondays were the occasions.  Monte Sano State Park was our destination.  I had discovered their rustic cabins during a search for Civilian Conservation Corps buildings in Alabama (this search prompted by a discussion with a coworker during which we both expressed our desire to see the revival of FDR’s New Deal public works programs to relieve, recover and reform our nation…a discussion that led to many digressions on my part, thus my ending up reserving a historic cabin in a state park). 

Monte Sano State Park is located on a mountain in north Alabama that overshadows the city of Huntsville.  The park is home to fourteen Arts & Crafts stone cabins, most with working fireplaces and original hardwood floors, and all with stunning views from the attached screened porches.   There is no real roughing it in these cabins.  Although it was small, our cabin (Cabin #1) came fully furnished with the same amenities (or more) as a hotel:  two beds (one full –sized, one twin), a dining table with four chairs, stove, oven, refrigerator, coffee maker and microwave.  The bathroom was stocked with plenty of towels, wash cloths, soap, shampoo, lotion, and a hairdryer.  On our porch, we had two chairs and a table which we moved from facing the view of the woods to face the view of the bluff overlooking the valley where the chocolaty waters of the Tennessee  River flowed.  There was air conditioning (which we didn’t even have to use, the temperatures were so unseasonably cool) and cable (which we DID use ever so sparingly since we do not have cable at home and it is a novelty to us), and a blessed quietude that hung on the bluff that entire weekend, a quietude that was not even broken by the pulsing chorus of tree frogs that began to sing at nightfall.  And the fireflies…they danced out of the trees to the rhythm of the tree frogs’ song and surrounded the cabin like twinkling Christmas lights.  It. Was. Perfect.

We fed ourselves with blackened tofu salads and fresh spring rolls with bee sting sauce from the amazing Chef Will, whose food truck is located in the Lowe Mill Arts district of Huntsville, and other treats that we picked up at the Whole-Foods-on-steroids store Earth Fare.  One evening was spent at Below theRadar Brewhouse, which claimed to have gluten free options, but clearly didn’t fully grasp the meaning of gluten free by offering bangers boiled in Guinness and covered in Stout gravy as one of their safe options.  Yeah, nothing about Guinness-boiled sausages and Stout gravy sounds gluten free to me.  Because it’s not.  And the wait staff were a bit independent, if you know what I mean (they disappeared for no apparent reason for long periods of time).  But they did have an amazing array of beers. 

Chef Will, Lowe Mill, Huntsville, AL

Blackened Tofu Salad, Chef Will

What time not spend eating and sleeping was spent walking trails (or, if you are Eric, running), reading (The Body by Stephen King for me, California by Edan Lapucki for Eric), yoga-ing on the porch, or meditating (again, on the porch).  At one point, while the voice on Eric’s iPhone app urged us to listen to the sounds around us while concentrating on our breathing, a squabbling ruckus from an unidentifiable bird broke from the trees.  The squabbling ruckus was immediately meditated away.

View from our cabin.

Our cabin from a trail head.