The Greatest Attraction Under the Smokies!

Today was Celebrate Badger’s Birthday. 
Think of it this way: her due date was 9/25, so we’re just celebrating closer to when she was supposed to arrive. 
It’s not my fault she showed up early, and I’ll stand by that. 
Her actual birthday is 9/11, but sometimes we celebrate a little later than the date.

From what I’ve been told, our ancestors chose Tennessee because it reminded them of Scotland and Ireland. 
Sometimes I wish they’d picked a flat state, maybe Kansas or Louisiana.
 You know, something that might have made them more homesick but would have blessed later generations.

Holy cow, the road to the cave went straight up English Mountain.
It was nothing but curves, with hardly a guardrail in sight.
I shut my eyes and prayed Cowboy didn’t drive us off the darn mountain.

We made it in one piece, somehow.
Since we were early, we poked around the gift shop until the next tour came around.
Cowboy and Badger went into the cave, and I happily stayed outside with my book. 
They had a long bench waiting, and it turned out to be the perfect spot. 
There was even a picnic area, but it was up a hill, and let’s be honest, I’m lazy.
 I wasn’t about to tackle that.

I'm just going to say this. 
First, Forbidden Caverns is a huge tourist attraction.
It attracts visitors from across the country. 
It's not just a local thing.
Secondly, if you come down South with an attitude, don't be surprised if Southerners meet it with one of our own.
A woman from Chicago-I know she was from Chicago because she was loudly complaining-tried to bring a giant Goldendoodle into the caves.
There is a large sign on the door clearly stating “No Dogs”
She was politely told no. 
She was politely reminded of the rules.
She insisted the dog was trained. 
She got rude, and the folks running the cave matched her tone.
Then she sat outside, telling everyone she met how “hateful” Southerners were.
No, we're not.
Most of us older Southerners were raised to be as charming and sweet as sugar, and to grit our teeth when someone’s being rude.
But we do have limits. 
Cross that line, and you’ll quickly learn we’re not Georgia belles.
We’re mountain born and raised, and we don’t back down.

Somehow she managed to rope in a fellow from the parking lot who was also from Chicago and also had issues with the South-not the cave people, just the South in general.
They had a doggone good time trashing the South for a bit.

I probably should have opened my mouth and told them, “Oh bless y’all’s hearts, we're not all that bad,” in my most exaggerated Tennessee twang.
But I held my tongue.

For the record, I’m only fussing about one impolite guest.
 I know that North, South, East, or West all have good apples and bad apples.


It was a long wait, and my book was about as boring as the TV series they made from it. 
A little people-watching, a little eavesdropping, and the time went by faster.

Cowboy and Badger finished the tour and said they really enjoyed it. 
Cowboy told me I could have gone in; it was nothing worse than walking down our dark hallway. 
Badger said there was just one spot that felt a little tight. 
I wasn’t willing to risk it. 
I’m badly claustrophobic, and I was afraid it would feel too much like being buried alive.

After we left the cave, we took a wrong turn that turned out to be pure serendipity. 
Instead of winding back down that twisty mountain road, we ended up on a fairly straight stretch that led us right to the Island. 
It even felt shorter.

We had dinner at Timberwood on the Island. 
The food hit the spot, same as always, but the new paying system was not my favorite. 
Good food or not, we won’t be going back.

By the time we stepped outside, the skies were already dark and threatening. 
We had barely made it down the street before the skies opened and the rain came pouring down. 
We wandered around in a steady downpour for what felt like forever. 
We got a little wet, but we don’t melt.

I found Badger's birthday present at Earthbound, and I managed to hide a little bat, so that was a surprise for her.

We were all tired and a bit damp by then, so we headed home. 
First, though, we stopped at Starbucks because I needed a boost. 
I miss the Margaritaville Coffee Shop; their coffee beat Starbucks hands down. 
I still don’t understand why they closed it and swapped it out for Starbucks.

The sun came bursting out just as we started across the bridge to the parking lot. 
Of course it did.

Our final stop was at the Sevierville Walmart.
We had to replace the Roomba since the local stores had been sold out.
This one only had a handful left, so I got lucky.
I’m pretty sure it’s the same model we wore out.
It was a good model, but it just couldn’t keep up with all the pet hair.

It was 5:20 p.m. when we pulled into the drive.
We’d left the house at 10:30 that morning.
Badger came inside, went to her bedroom, and made herself a pallet on the floor.
She hasn’t felt well all evening, so Cowboy finally went out and bought her some Sprite.
I figure it was a mix of the twisty roads, the long day, and the fact that everywhere we went, people had soaked themselves in scent.
Badger is super sensitive to perfume, as am I.

Cowboy fed his chickens, gathered the eggs, and then curled up in his recliner for a long nap.
I took the three dogs out to go potty and then played on the computer, staying on my feet in case Badger needed me.
For the longest time, the house stayed quiet.
It’s been a long day.
 

Cowboy is awake and watching TV.
Heron’s home from work.
Badger has decided to sleep on my bedroom floor. 
It can’t be comfortable, but she and Turtle are curled up together, happy enough.
I’m going to head in and rewatch Superman with the captions on.
I missed a lot of it the first time because I couldn’t hear.
I may ask Baby Doc for another hearing test, and start thinking seriously about hearing aids.
I’m really beginning to miss out on too much, and Cowboy and Badger get aggravated with me.