Nope, not this guy:
Simon. The game. Thinking about Christmas in Rochester, and Mr. Mouth, reminded me of Simon. We had a neighbor named David (last name withheld to protect the innocent), who was older, but a bit of a nerd. David would use the Simon, and the rest of us little kids had to pretend to be animals, and he would “control” us with the sound of the Simon game. All of this occurred to the background soundtrack of Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust.”
And other assorted Auburn Thanksgiving happenings.
Todd’s dad gave us his tickets to the Auburn/Alabama game, and they watched the children for us to boot. I had tailgated before, but had not actually been in the stadium for a game. The hate was palpable. Beforehand was stellar people-watching, as usual.
These Auburn fans named their children following the Alabama Scotch tradition. I know Todd was hoping they were Bama fans, but nope! AU.
Possibly my favorite moment of the day was cutting through a tunnel of a building on campus and getting caught behind the AU marching band warming up.
We waited behind them as they warmed up, then slowly followed them out of the tunnel as they played.
It is not very often that you have a marching band to lead you in. The sun glinting off Tubas and drums was kinda magical.
Scarlett and her cousin, Thomas. . .
Ned and Nessie
Brandon and Carlie . . .
And Ned's brother Chris set me up with a Bloody Mary. And the Anne was happy.
My partners-in-crime for the Tiger Walk - Brandon, Carlie, and Vanessa. None of them had ever seen it either!
Then we realized we were right next to the Tiger Walk, so I went to check it out for people-watching research. It was well worth it.
Oh, the people-watching. I adore stupid football shirts like this one.
Did i mention it was a perfect sunny day? Not hot OR cold?
Yep, more dumb shirtage. It was like shootin' fish in a barrel.
Well, good day to YOU, sir!
I don't know what you call these things, but I want a Georgia one, for when I am trying to get the troops at home to clean house.
I wonder what possesses a man to get up in the morning and put this on his head.
Or a perfectly good, self-respecting souther woman to wear pants like these?
I mean, come on, ladies. You look like couches.
I can't say anything snarky about this little girl, because she was just as cute as can be.
My old friend Brett came in town for the iron bowl and brought his girlfriend. They live in Seattle. It was fun to see her in his native habitat.
Lucy gets her picture made with this interesting Tiger setup. It was her first SEC game, and boy did she pick the right one.
Interesting setup here. Todd wouldn't let me go sit down with these kids.
This just cracked me up.
This is Todd's good friend Chuck's sister. Chuck is the friend that couldn't make it to their 20th reunion, so I pretended to be him after his sex change and caused much confusion on the part of former classmates. I highly recommend adopting a fake persona when attending a spouse's reunion. Lying makes it more fun. Corey and I talked about my crush on her sister-in-law.
We saw Todd's friend Jared and his son, Jack.
Todd and Inflatable Aubie
Even the program guys get into the spirit.
This woman claimed to be wearing Auburn panties, but I don't buy it. Blingy, too! These getups just slay me.
We ran into Adria and Chris on the way in.
I chatted with this woman in the tunnels to our seats. She was nice, and I respect her fashion choices.
There was an eagle on the sidelines. Once again, i got to the stadium too late to see the damn eagle fly. I am starting to doubt that it really does fly.
Todd sitting next to his Bama buddy for the game.
Auburn and Alabama, side by side. I am not kidding - the hatred is palpable in this stadium.
I love catching fans in the throes of anger, despair, or disgust.
He's back! They guy from the UGA game! Todd and i love him.
You know that your marital ties have brought you down to inappropriate depths when you go to an Auburn game and recognize the fans.
First half was good. Then we left (I had enough of the mouthbreather behind me, and of being packed in like sardines.) Second half? Not so good.
To be continued. . . And you know you have to read it, because it is just like you were there, and you can almost smell the November sunshine. Also, the suspense is killing you. Did Todd cry when they game was over?
Todd and I went to Athens on Saturday, for our biennial Georgia vs. Auburn football game attendance. My father-in-law usually gives us his tickets for the game when it is in Athens. He does, however, reserve the right to revoke this gift in case of the game being some huge, season-altering event for Auburn, such as both teams going into the game undefeated. Needless to say, that revocation was not put into action this season, as both teams are sucking ass.
So, we got up on Saturday, had a quiet coffee together (kids were already in Auburn with grandparents!) and then drove up to Athens. After dropping off the dog, and going back by the house to get the tickets, of course. Helps to get into the stadium if you have them.
We stopped at my friend Brant’s house and left my camera battery to charge on his porch. He was not there, and despite our best efforts to meet up, we never got ourselves together enough to do so. That did not step him and Opel from sending me awesome texts that made me laugh throughout the game. Most were directed at my dear husband, the Auburn Tiger, and what he could put into his mouth after any given play in the game.
We had T-stand (that one’s for you, Scotty P, Honey, and Ryan – if any of you can tell me exactly what I ordered, i will mail you five bucks) for lunch, then headed off to find somewhere to park. Not fun. Ended up paying a ridiculous amount for parking. I have to say that, even in the throng of obnoxious people out and about in on game day, there are few better feelings than walking around Athens and the University of Georgia campus with a beer in hand, especially when the temperature is in the 70s in November.
We headed off to Horton Drugs (I love an old-school drugstore), so that I could purchase some Tylenol, since I was coming down with a cold all that day. The old pharmacist actually came out from behind the counter and helped me find the Tylenol, even pointing out the generic, while the hippie kid cashier was obviously high.
Horton's Drugs
The Georgia Theater, November 2009
We headed over to The Globe for beer. I never really spent that much time at the Globe when I was in Athens, because I thought it was expensive and that the people who hung out there were old, professorial, and boring. Funny how your perspective changes as you age.
We went inside, grabbed a table, and then Todd went to the bar to get us a Terrapin. (When in Rome.) A seat opened up at the couch in the window. Snagged it. Then Todd, eagle eye that he is, noticed a table outside and grabbed that, and the rest is history. We did not move again until time to go to the game. Why would we move when it was 70 degrees and we had the best people watching EVER? I was not able to get shots of most of these astounding outfits, but I did snap a few.
You gotta love a town where people bring their cooler with them into the bar.
You can't tell, but this charming lady has overalls with GA patches all over, including a huge one on her butt. Flattering!
Overalls aren't just for the ladies. At least this gentleman knows that vertical stripes are slimming!
This lady cracked me up. She has a football field sweater. A bulldog necklace. She is not messing around about her love of the Bulldogs.
Even the bulldogs want you to be sure you know for whom they are pulling . . .
Fellows of the Peanut Gallery
On their way to grab beer from the car.
I love this time of day in Athens.
Old Stomping Grounds
I mostly posted this one because I like the light. I do not endorse tobacco use.
This is not what the front of Park Hall looked like when I went to school here. Fancy!
This is what i look like very sober. This is what Todd looks like when he is humoring me.
This is what i look like when I am heckling a young man trying to pee in a corner.
This is the only picture I could get of me with Annie showing her face.
This guy evidently never ages. He has been there as long as I can remember. Note that I have no problem with people who love Jesus; Only the ones who tell me I am going to burn in hell when i am just trying to have a good time with friends at a football game.
See up there in the very top of the left-hand corner? That is where we sat.
This guy was uber-enthusiastic. I thought Todd might end up making out with him.
It would be third down, Auburn, and he would turn around and rile the crowd up.
Then he would turn back around to watch the play. He was more entertaining than the game.
This woman was the Auburn version of my Mom cheering for the Vols. Look at those flashing eyes! She was looking right at me, too, Bulldog interloper that i am.
Sweet, sweet sleep was finally had by me. Except not really, because I got the consumption and coughed all night.
Morning in Bishop, GA.
Oh! Who won, you ask?
Why, the Bulldogs, of course. It was a great game.
Final: 31-24.
My streak continues. See, Todd and I have gone to three Auburn/GA games together in Athens. Georgia has won all three. I also went to an Auburn game with Todd in Auburn, when they played some crappy team. Florida Atlantic, or something like that. Auburn lost that time, too. So, I am not sure whether I am a good luck charm for Georgia, or more of a curse for Auburn.
I like to think it is a little of both.
What has been keeping me up at night . . .
You swear to uphold something, or stand by someone, or support something. It turns out that the thing or person is not at all what it/he/she purported itself to be.
You are at the end of your rope, physically and mentally, but you promised, and you feel that to go back on your promise would make you no better than the other person/thing you are involved in. Maybe you are too proud to say that it is not working. Maybe you are afraid of the repercussions, on yourself and others, of dropping out. You stand by it, even though you don’t understand why it is the way it is, and why it isn’t what you thought it would be, and you don’t understand why things can’t be better, and you are not happy, and you are afraid that you never will be again.
Is there a point where your own sanity and mental health requires you to give up on others? Are you setting a bad example for others by sitting idly by and putting up with a miserable situation out of pride or loyalty or fear? Are you forcing other people to suffer through watching you be miserable?
I’m not exactly sure what it is that I am getting at here. This is not a post about any particular situation or person. It is more about me thinking about the question in a general manner since it has come up for a number of people I know lately, or at least the larger idea of it has come to me in talking with these people over the last couple of years. It seems more and more that I know people in their mid to late 30s who are struggling in their daily lives to get by, and to be happy, and to set a good example for their children. They want to raise happy children, but they are not happy themselves.
Happiness. Is that not the point? Seeking out happiness? If not, what is the point? Martyrdom? If you are not really happy, can you ever really make those around you happy? If you are not happy, can you ever really teach your children to be happy?
My brain hurts.
Just me and my dog.
See dog on couch. Take dog picture. Decide to try and get a shot of me and Dog. Lay down on couch with dog. Dog starts licking. I start laughing. Camera shakes.
Never really get a good shot of either of us.
I love him so much.
Well, I’m trying to do NaNoWriMo again this year. I did it last year, too. While training for a half-marathon. So, you would think that this year would be easier, since I am benched (AGAIN) due to the Halloween Ankle Twisting episode of 2009. (Just thinking ahead. Let’s be honest. It will probably be an annual event.) No, it is not easier this year. We are still trying to finish up renovations to the basement: we still have doors to paint and hang, shades to purchase and hang, some lighting issues to resolve, and I have to put away all my highly valuable packrat stuff. Yes, I need that funeral home fan from the 1940s, my t-ball hat from 1978 (Go Birmingham PeeWees!), and every letter written by every member of my family for the last 120 years. I need them! Deep down in my soul!
But I am going to do it again anyway, because last year? I wrote FIFTY THOUSAND WORDS. They came right out of my head and went into the computer and now i have them. I haven’t quite gone back and shaped and coaxed them into something useful yet, but it is the most writing I have produced in my life. It was AMAZING.
So, yeah, i am already behind. I only have a thousand words down, and I should be up to about 5000 by end of day, but you know what? I have a thousand more words down than I would if I had not attempted at all. And that’s saying something.
Anyone else doing it? Not too late to jump on the bandwagon. I’m looking at you, JB. If not, you are doing Script Frenzy with me in April. I mean, how hard can writing a script be? If Judd Apatow can do it, I can do it. Right?
Oh, god.
Last night, we took the kids trick or treating, despite the misty rain, and the mud, and the fact that the Gators were still in the midst of kicking Georgia’s ass. Sometimes, it is better to just walk away and eat candy and drink beer.
Rollie was a mummy (Not that fun a costume to put together, and even worse to remove! Like the old school costume ideas, though.) and Tills was a cheerleader. We went to meet neighbors a couple of streets over for a neighborhood tradition. A family has always done a pinata before trick or treating. It started with just a family or two, but over the years, has ballooned to tons of neighborhood kids showing up to take a shot at the pinata. I think they even have two pinatas, one for the big kids and one for the little ones. So many people show up that I dropped candy off the day before to help out. The whole thing is a ball of candy frenzy, but so much fun. It gives the parents a chance to group, pour themselves a drink (everyone has a cup or a rolling cooler with them), chat while the kids wait in line for their turn to whack the pinata, and to check out all the costumes in the floodlights of the driveway. When the pinata finally cracks open, candy rains from the sky, and the scramble for booty begins. One mother in my neighborhood aptly referred to it as “like a scene out of Lord of the Flies.” I loved that book! Perhaps not for everyone, though.
After that, we all give our thanks and head around the loop to trick or treat. The bigger kids race from door to door, their parents yelling, “slow down! It isn’t a race! Wait for your sister! You’re going to trip over something cutting through a dark yard like that! Don’t ring that doorbell! Porch light off means they aren’t giving out candy!” The shrieks and yells carry through the night, echoing off the houses. The parents walk down the middle of the street, then weave to one side or the other, depending on which house the kids are going to. Occasionally, the kids stop at the parents to yell excitedly that a certain house gave a certain something awesome. Some houses have scary stuff – motion-activated sound machines or mummies and vampires that pop up when the kids approach the steps. One got Tiller so bad that she turned around and ran back across the yard, to the sound of myself and todd roaring in laughter. Parents drag coolers or wagons or push strollers (they make great drink transportation!) The little ones get tired about 3/4 of the way and start dragging and wanting up to be carried or in the wagon. (“Baby, Mama’s cooler’s in the wagon. You better keep walking.”) We finally finish the loop and head home, the kids wild-eyed and digging into their candy before we get there. We visit the old folks around us, which we should have done before going to the pinata, but damn it, Mummies are hard to wrap. The old folks make over the kids and the kids stumble over their words trying to explain everything that they saw, and who was dressed up as what.
Then you get home, and you let the kids have some candy. (Yes, we are terrible and limited their intake right before bed. We wash off mummy makeup and take off saddle oxfords and tights and tuck them into bed, visions of pumpkins and candy dancing in their heads.
Then we rummage through their candy, and pour ourselves a drink. Finally, we walk out into the carport to blow out the candles in the pumpkin and step on a pile of muddy shoes, twisting our ankle and bumping our head on the brick wall, our screams of agony resonating throughout the neighborhood under a Waxing Gibbous moon. We limp back to the couch with the help of our husband, who brings us a water, Ibuprofen, a bag of frozen fruit, and a beer. We prop our foot up, icing it and watching The Night of the Living Dead.
Busy with unpacking all the stuff we boxed up for basement renovations, painting some doors, and drinking coffee while listening to Miles Davis, but thought i’d mention that i just added my friend Nikki’s blog to my blogroll.
She is an acupuncturist and just got a new office, so I thought I would mention it on here so that my Seattle readers (I’m looking at the three of you!) would look Nikki up first in case of a need to become a human pincushion.
No, seriously, Nikki is awesome and I know she’ll do great in her new endeavour! Incidentally, she is also the one who made the awesome tote bag that I always get compliments on. The one with the big purple and pink flowers. You know. That one. Very talented, that Nikki. Actually, I kind of want to hate her, because she is one of those moms that makes Halloween costumes for her kid, and stuff like that? And here I am, just slapping the plastic K-Mart masks on my kids? But, I can’t, because she is nice.
Damn nice people.
The Creekers got together last night for a cookout. We had the usual fun, and we got to meet the newest Lil’ Creeker, Connor. (Not to be confused with honorary Creeker Conor the Elder.) Thanks to Dan and Wendy for hosting, and to Owen’s oldest, Ian, for making me feel like Betty Crocker and eating four helpings of my baked beans.
Is this guy. Love him. He just doesn’t get enough credit here on Dogwood Girl. But he runs the show. Really.
