September 8, 2016 – Meeting a new friend and furniture shopping. 

          The first friend I made here in the county posted a lovely comment on “When am I a local.”  And, it is so true my asking for ice and some toilet ‘tissue’ is the name I use.  I desperately needed to get ice water for my laboring movers.

Sorry, I jumped ahead . . . I need to tell it from the beginning so that it makes sense.

In 1985:  It was a blazing hot Sunday in August with 100 plus degrees and a several week draught with no rain in the forecast.

Mid day the huge lumbering moving truck came down the road, perilously turned around at the end circle, came back up the road and then smoothly backed down into the drive of a recently built speculation house.  I was waiting with clipboard in hand with my copy of the box and furniture inventory.

The driver was concerned that he had to deliver on a Sunday in the Bible belt and thought it might nix my chances at making friends with neighbors.  The heat was oppressive.  The new house had air conditioning, but my husband had contacted me the night before and told me to turn off the air conditioning while they unloaded the moving van and carried the boxes and furniture in.  He said something like, “You’ll blow the unit up with the doors wide open at 100 degree heat.  Wait until the evening when it is cooler and then start the air conditioner it won’t strain as bad.” Good advice and I was following it.

They had only just begun unloading the truck and the drivers’ helpers were dripping in sweat.   They begged to take off their shirts and they had brought a boom box music to listen to.

Not knowing the local customs, and not sure how my new neighbor’s would react I weighed the situation: comfort – shirtless and some loud music for inspiration?  I wanted to make them as happy as possible so that they did not rough handle my furniture or my boxes or scuff up my newly painted walls.  Besides, taking a glance around it seemed everyone was at church or tucked up in their cool air conditioning out of sight and possibly out of sound.  I opted to say “yes” to both.  I saw happy smiles all around.   

Having professionally moved six times cross country before, I was a meticulous planner. The “last box” on the van was supposed to be the “first box off” and it was marked as such all the way around including top and bottom.  However, the plan didn’t come together.  The “first box off” was nowhere to be found.

So, there I was with a new refrigerator that the ice maker wasn’t hooked up yet, heat index 100 plus in the shade, no box containing drinking cups, coffee pot, toilet tissue, sheets for the bed, bath towel and bath soap . . . . When a gal my age with skinny legs comes from the pale green house across the street down her driveway then jauntily comes down my driveway with a giant smile and a warm, comely Southern accent offering me help or assistance of any kind.

Are you kidding me – I latched onto her like I was a drowning woman at sea and asked for ice and toilet tissue without hesitation.  I am not even sure I exchanged names with her as I was so needy at the time.

She went off and came back immediately with ice and toilet tissue and her open heart of friendship so warm and true it has lasted 30 plus years – whether we have lived across the street or across state lines or a couple of states away from each other.   As they coin the phrase, “A lot of water has run beneath both of our bridges over the years.”

During those first days, she showed me all the back roads, all the places to bargain shop and she took me to the only restaurant in town that actually served coffee in a ceramic mug – Shoney’s. 

My husband always “sweetened the transition” from one home to another with something special and this time my request was: “We are moving to furniture country, can I have new furniture for a “French Country” kitchen and “English Hunt Style” what I would call the drawing room  [instead of living room].  “YES!”

In the weeks that followed my new friend and I “hunted” [which is a fabulous Southern phrase] in furniture country and stopped at all these little out of the way places.  I had picture of a leather tufted sofa that I wanted and when I couldn’t describe it to the proprietors I would pull out the picture and they would say – “nah, nothing like that”.  Then we went on to the next place. 

Finally, I showed my picture and one man rubbed his chin and said, “I think we got one up at the Mountain Store.”   He made a call and sure enough he had one in Navy Blue and he could get it to his location in a few days.   She helped me haggle a price and we scheduled a date we would come back with a pickup truck to retrieve it.

Returning with the truck, they put the sofa on the truck, tied it down.  I paid in cash and he handed me a receipt. I glanced at it and smiled.   When I got in the truck I showed it to her and she laughed out loud. We could hardly get the truck out of the parking lot and on the way home as we were splitting with complete laughter.

At the house she and I carried the new sofa into the house; I just about tore one of the legs off the front of it coming around the corner of the door jamb too quick.

We tested it out still in high humor. When my husband arrived he said something like – Hey it looks good – you found the Chippendale sofa you wanted.

“NO, it is a “CHIP and DALE,” my friend corrected him and we both cackled with side splitting laughter again as I handed him the receipt spelled out exactly that way.

It got worn out and tossed out and I am sad it is gone, because it was the best sofa we ever had. 

You know, I need to ring my friend up and see if we can ‘hunt’ up another “CHIP and DALE”.