Cherokee

We took a little road trip to Cherokee today with the Youmans.  Jimmy has been talking about wanting to go all summer, to check out the casino, which was surprising since neither of us likes to gamble.

We stopped in Dillsboro for lunch at the Jarrett House, where they serve mounds of great country cooking.

As you would expect, people were lined up, waiting to get in.

Harrah's casino

I allotted myself $20 to spend on a slot machine, and selected this particular one because of the eagle on it, and promptly lost my money in record time.  It was pretty boring really.  The slots were digital, and everything seemed so quiet since there was no lever to pull on the One-Armed Bandit, and there were no quarters clattering out, if you did happen to win.

Jimmy played blackjack at the $15 table, and actually did pretty well.  He probably would have come out ahead, except we were all ready to leave so he cashed in his chips when he was about $50 down. 

In retrospect, I think one of the reasons we were so ready to leave was the smoking: the place reeked of cigarette smoke.  That's the first time in years we've been in a place that allowed smoking, and it looked like half the people in there had cigarettes in their mouths.  I guess on Indian reservations, they can make their own rules. 

The Cullasaja River on the Franklin Road

The prettiest foliage we saw all day was in Highlands, I guess because of the higher altitude.  This is at the Highlands Country Club.

Parking lot at HCC

Chipmunks

As the days get shorter and the temperature drops, the chipmunks are in a frenzy to stock their larders before winter, and all their darting and scurrying about is driving Andy nuts.

Autumn is upon us

So far, I don't think this is one of our best leaf seasons: beautiful but not spectacular like some years.  Maybe we haven't hit the peak yet; some trees, like the red maple, turned early and have already dropped their leaves, while others are still showing a lot of green.

Jimmy and I went to Henry's in Clayton for lunch today, for our fried chicken fix and to get off the mountain for a while. Traffic was so heavy we were afraid Henry's would be closed by the time we got there - or worse, have run out of fried chicken.  The leafers were everywhere, sightseeing and clogging up traffic and making a general nuisance of themselves, getting in the way of people like us who were hungry and had a destination.  George's Zip Line was booming, and not a parking space was to be seen, both times we passed it.

Jimmy looks really good, and I wish he felt as good as he looks.  He has good days and bad, depending on where we are with the medication.  He sleeps a lot, sometimes 10 or 12 hours a night plus a good nap or two. We pace things, and try to have an "event" every day  - either go out to lunch (if we can get up early enough) or have dinner with friends.  People seem surprised at how well he's doing, but what they don't see is that he's been resting up all day for it.

Jimmy's M-spike had gone up (bad) when he was tested a few weeks ago, while his good counts had gone down (also bad), but that was after only one round of doubling the chemo, and we are hopeful that the next tests will show that things are going in the right direction.

We had planned on going home around the 20th but Jimmy's next Emory appointment is on the 29th, so we think maybe we'll delay the trip a week and do our Emory thing on our way home.

Spaghetti Junction

We spent Monday night at the Emory Conference Center so we could be at the clinic for Jimmy's 8:30 appointment - WAY early for us.  His initial blood work looked a little off this time:  WBC and platelets low and glucose level unusually high, and the total protein had jumped up. Dr. Lonial didn't seem too concerned and attributed it to the doubling of his chemo last month.  We won't get the important numbers until next week.

On our way back to Highlands, as we drove through Spaghetti Junction on I-85, I smiled at a recollection that recurs every time we go through there.  On September 11, 2001 (!!!)  Mama and her friend Tot Amon and Jeanne and Wilbur Rountree were in Tot's white Chevy Impala, en route to Highlands where they were going to stay at his daughter's house. Mama and Tot and Jeanne were probably in their mid-eighties and Wilbur had to have been ninety at the time.

Somewhere around Spaghetti Junction, they ran over one of those big orange cones and it got stuck under the car.  They managed to get over onto the shoulder, and all got out of the car to survey the problem.  Fortunately, a good Samaritan stopped and dislodged the cone and they continued on their way, oblivious to the tragedy that was unfolding in New York that day, as well as one they'd  narrowly missed themselves.

 It was such a dangerous situation, but I still get tickled at the mental image I have of those four, huddled up by the busy road, peering under the Impala and debating who was going to crawl under it and pull that cone out.