Newscoma

There are ridges in Whites Creek.The fall leaves make the sides of the hills look like they are on fire which is a beautiful sight to see, I assure you.

The grocery store is smaller than the one in Hoots, and though I’ve already been to Tony’s Foodland twice, I’ve already had conversations with lovely people stocking the shelves and the lady this morning who had to enter roughly nine coupons as Squirrel Queen and I waited patiently. (Sidenote, I needed a toothbrush because I shared mine with Mrs. Wigglebottom, whom I would share pretty much anything with as I adore her.)

There is a place down the road called the Blarney Stone Pub and Grill. After work yesterday, SQ and I headed there to pick up some sort of appetizer as we hadn’t eaten. The grill was somewhat of misnomer as the burly bartender said to us, and I quote, “We may have some grill stuff later on when momma gets here about 6:00.”

How can you not be smitten with his honesty.

He was busy watching Jerry Springer with the regulars, one whom they called Hot Dog, who sat quietly and drank a Mountain Dew. Another man in a trucker’s hat was grumbling at the screen about hookers (which I believe was the employment choice of one of the women in the episode.) On the wall, there was a score of 100 for how clean this place was. Even the ashtrays had the paint on the bottom of them scrubbed off to clean perfection.

You never know what you are going to find. Especially when you aren’t looking for anything in particular, sometimes you can find special, wonderful things.

Squirrel Queen and I headed off to see what else The Creek had to offer as we waited on our kind and generous hostess Aunt B. to return from a day at the mines. (Because, you know, Aunt B. works in the coalmines of Nashville. You didn’t know that?)

The next stop was a place called Friends. SQ was hesitant to go inside but I’m always up to see what is what so she conceded to check it out.

“HEY FRIEEEENDS!” a man shouted from the back of room. Thus the name, I assume. I must say that this place is one that my pal Dirk Diggler would probably put a stamp of approval on as he loves juke joints as much as I do. We learned within about 10 minutes his name was Barney. What a lovely man he was as he showed off his place of business. He owned the joint and welcomed everyone who entered the door. Friends is a place that is much larger than it looks and  he asked us to play pool.

“My girlfriend is in the back,” he grinned. “She can make you something to eat.”

We were going to Ri’chards a bit later, so we declined the offer but his enthusiasm still remains with me today. I have no idea why I’m somewhat in love with places like Friends. Maybe it was Barney’s wonderful greeting as we opened the door. As we left, Barney was helping a woman who was on crutches prop her foot up on a stool so she would be comfortable.

Ri’chards is hidden away with a carefree joie de vivre atmosphere that has history that B. can tell you regarding The James Gang. Of course, any place with that kind of story is very groovy in the book of Coma. The beignets were scrumptious and being that I’m annoying to my buddy, Smiley. I sent him a picture of them because they were amazing. I’ve never known a food critic before, so I find that is my job to tell him of things that he most likely already knows about. I’m always behind on the food learning curve, campers. And Nashville Restaurants has a review here if you are so inclined.

As you can tell, I’m kind of in love with Whites Creek this morning. Not to leave any stone unturned, SQ and I had breakfast at Big Mama’s Kitchen before I headed into the day job. All I can say is : YES. We apparently met Big Mama, who is only open in the day hours. The small cafe was filled with a hodge-podge of antiques that made the place warm and inviting. She was a slight woman and talked to us of small towns, my T-shirt (I was wearing the picture of a local milling company from Hoots) and asked us to return for lunch, where the plate of the day is smothered tenderloin. Her smile was vibrant.

And, the Tiny Cat likes me, as I like her. (Bloggers from around the state are introducing me to the world of cats. I am becoming a cat convert.)

I fall in love too easily, don’t I?