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Archive for the ‘Friends’ Category

I Might Be Having Courtney’s Baby

Wednesday, October 14th, 2009

So, I haven’t been blogging much. For one thing, Georgia broke my heart and my will and I could barely lift a finger to play Bejeweled, much less write something, after the demoralizing loss of Saturday. I didn’t even get around to writing Tiller’s annual birthday post (get those tissues ready, ladies), due to complete and utter house renovation/in-laws/birthday party/my parents/work/laundry/vacation packing fucking chaos in my life.

But at least I’m not trying to conceive during football season. Jesus. What a losing battle. Especially this season. I will say this: Even in the depths of despair, when the world seems to be crumbling around you, or at least around your football team, it is comforting to know that someone gets you. Courtney, if you can’t conceive, I will carry your baby for you, sweetie. You speak to my soul.

Tiller’s Birthday Party

Tuesday, October 6th, 2009

We had Tiller’s fourth birthday party on Sunday. The weather looked iffy, but it turned out just great. A little overcast but not hot and the mosquitoes weren’t too bad. Tiller wanted to do the costume party again this year, so that was fun, and makes for fun pictures, too. And of course, I love the Halloween stuff, so it is an excuse to buy more Halloween decorations.

Tiller wanted to be a Princess. Again. Rollie decided to be Spiderman. Again. Part of me wishes she would want to be something like a Doctor, or an Archaeologist, but when i see how into it she gets, with the crowns and the wand and the jewelry, and the ridiculous red Christmas socks with pink sneakers, I just give in to it. As a parent, I have to always remind myself that she needs to find her own interests and that anything that encourages her wild imagination is a good thing, even if it’s a damn Disney Princess. As long as she doesn’t start any Damsel-in-Distress crap, we’re all good.

All in all a good time.

Yo La Tengo, Beer, Me, Me, Me.

Sunday, September 20th, 2009

So, Todd is in NYC all week for work, and he gave me the afternoon off yesterday, so that I could have kid-free time before the week kicks into gear. I rode down to L5P with neighbor Scott and his friend Seth. Ah, the glamour of arriving anywhere in a minivan. Nothing like it.

We proceeded to Criminal Records for the 4 pm Yo La Tengo instore. Scott bought the new album and got it signed. He is a record nerd, which always cracks me up. He is v. knowledgeable about music and we like a lot of the same stuff, and I even like him despite the fact that he likes Phish. YLT played a short set (mostly new stuff, including the fun “Periodically Double or Triple,” and a Beatles cover – name? Cannot remember) bantered with the crowd in their usual witty and self-deprecating way, and sounded pretty good. A fun time, despite the fact that I am coming down with a cold, and it was hot as Hades in the damn place.

Speaking of, let’s take a moment to discuss my thoughts on dressing for Fall in the South, shall we? I automatically think that you are a complete idiot if the temperature is in the 70s and 80s and you wear any of the following:

  • Long sleeve shirts*
  • Wool caps or hats
  • Cardigan wrap sweaters
  • Wool plaid skirts
  • FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD, knitted or wool scarves?
    *These are merely questionable. Why not a short sleeve?

I then bought a couple of CDs (browsing without children! No hand-holding! Awesome!) and then went next door to The Porter. I had not been there before, and I LOVED it. Great beer list; knowledgeable, witty, friendly staff; comfortable bar stools; good pub food (at least what I had – the Porter Poppers – was excellent). I love the atmosphere and had a wonderful, three-beer afternoon to myself, sitting at the bar, reading for a couple hours, periodically looking up to watch the folks outside walking by in the rain.
I am my mother’s daughter, so I did chat up some fellow patrons and the bartender. Met a couple people who had driven all the way from Florida to see Yo La Tengo. I am always impressed by road-tripping music fans. (As long as they like good music, of course.) And then another guy sat down next to me. Turned out we had both grown up in Atlanta and knew some of the same people. Georgia and Ira from YLT came in, presumable for dinner, and walked to the back of the bar. Todd arrived, having pawned the kids off onto my dear sister. We had another beer and chatted with the Atlanta guy, nodding our heads as the conversation got weird, and involved his life and death experience, and how he saw levitating beers come up out of their glasses and float in the air. Nope, not kidding. He said all this with a straight face, and I love my husband, because we both just nodded like we were listening seriously to him, and never took our eyes off him. Nodding, nodding. But we know one another well enough that we were having an unspoken conversation that went something like this:

Todd: “Did he just say that he died and then came back to life?”
Me: “He just said that he and the chick from the band BabyShakes watched their beers leave the glasses and float up solid in the air and then splash back down on the bar. No one else there saw it.”
Todd: “Yep. Did he just say that she understood all this, and that he figured out the whole thing in numbers and did the math? Were there numbers after the decimal point?”
Me: “Yep. They had a connection. What the fuck is he talking about? Is there a mathematical formula for crazy?”
Todd: “Yes, evidently, there is, and he has solved it.”
Me: “I’m going to chug the last few sips of this beer, then excuse myself to go to the ladies’ room.”
Todd: “I’m gonna get the check and pay up.”
Me: “Tip the bartender well.”
Todd: “You know it.”
[Aloud] “It was so nice meeting you. You take care now, okay?”

After that, we paid up and met Scott and Seth at Vortex. Not my favorite place to eat, but Scott wanted it, because he can’t eat there with children. This is a common theme for parents. It is like when I don’t have kids with me, I choose where to sit based on it being where I wouldn’t usually sit with the kids. This is usually the bar.

The best part about this was that I got to see the first quarter of the Bulldogs playing Arkansas. The rest of the night, I received stellar and timely text updates from both Brett and Jason B. It was much appreciated, and Brett got extra points with Todd for his unsolicited Auburn updates, including the non-score-related “Auburn fans have a Brokeback Mountaineers sign.” Good job, boys. Will be watching the DVR-ed version this afternoon.

We headed over to the show. I ran into a guy i knew in Athens named Roger. We caught up for a while, and then I headed down to see the show up front. YLT were good, as always. Todd and I discussed the fact that Ira always seems to bring it full-tilt. I like the fact that he is aging, but still seems to rock out and have a blast just like a teenager. I have seen them quite a few times, and they always do a good show, but this was not one of their better ones, in my opinion. This probably owes more to the fact that they played mostly new stuff than to any deficiency on their parts. Highlights for me were still the more rockin’ older songs: Deeper into Movies, Autumn Sweater, etc. Autumn Sweater sounds different every time that I hear them play it and i loved this loungier version. Georgia did a few songs. I love her sweet voice, and that she is such an enduring rock chick. In the face of so many bombastic female voices in rock, her quiet modesty is refreshing.
Yo La Tengo, Variety Playhouse, Atlanta, GA. Sept. 19, 2009
Afterwards, we met friends Gretchen and Brownlee at The Porter for a last beer. (Feeling kinda ookie, I opted for a water.) And headed home! All in all, a great day despite the fact that I wasn’t feeling a hundred percent. Hopefully, the memory of my mostly kid-free day will get me through the week ahead.

The Quarry and the Death of a Rock Star

Wednesday, September 16th, 2009

For the life of me, I cannot figure out how The Georgia Guidestones were built in 1980, just 40 miles from Athens, and I have never been there, much less heard of them. I want to go as soon as possible. Totally cool story!

Georgia’s granite is kind of interesting to me, too. I would love to see what Stone Mountain looked a thousand years ago, without the development around it, a dome of stone surrounded by forest. And then there’s the quarries. I have always found something very creepy about them. But one in particular, outside of Athens, was a destination for us as college kids. I can’t even remember now how you got there, but I know it was east of Athens, probably towards Elberton.

We would go out there when it was warm weather. You drove back on a wooded, deserted dirt or gravel road. I guess we were trespassing, but there was never anyone out there other than kids. There were actually at least two quarries (the pits themselves). There might have been more, but I don’t remember them. One was smaller, and had a sloped side to it at the time. We would lie in the sun, smoke and drink, and swim in the quarry. The water was cool and very clear in this pit, and the sides were not very far from the water. Everything about this smaller pool seemed blue and white and very bright.

The second one was VERY DEEP. The walls rose from the water, probably something like at least 50 feet. Maybe more? A hundred? The walls were a sheer drop, straight down. There were rickety old iron stairs or ladder running from the top down to the water. People would run off the edge and jump into the quarry. I never did it, as I am a big old wuss and very scared of heights. My friend and roommate Honey did it and my heart was in my throat the whole time. I thought she was one badass girl for doing it. I still think that she’s a badass.

There was also a huge crane there. I remember talking to a boy at a party one night in Athens. The next week, I heard that he had jumped from that crane to his death. I cannot remember his name.

The crane and the larger quarry, they seemed dark and foreboding. Awesome and ancient, even though they were man-made. I wonder if they look any different now – Seems that if they still use the quarry, it’s landscape would change between 1992 (or whenever it was we were out there) and today. Or maybe it looks as if no one has touched it. My God. 17 years.

This picture, found on Flickr, was taken in 2000. But the scene looks pretty much the same. I assume this is the same quarry.

Another photo to give you a feel of what it looked like, here.

One other reason i will never forget the quarry. I went there the day Kurt Cobain died. I was walking home from school. I am guessing it was March or April. I know it was spring. And i know it was still cool out, because I was wearing a coat. I was walking with Chris Bilheimer down the street in Athens, and we met a girl named Felicia. I don’t remember her last name. She worked with me at The Grill, and had a brother and sister. All three of them were nauseatingly beautiful people. She told us that Curt Cobain was dead. I remember being pretty stunned at first, but also thinking later that people got pretty upset over someone who wasn’t that great. Not that I didn’t love Nirvana, but come on. I never thought he was a complete God or anything.

I walked on home to my house off Pulaski. My roommate Scott was there, with Dave and Karen. I told them the news. We got in Karen’s jeep and drove out to the quarry. Someone took pictures, but it wasn’t me. Scott or Dave, if you read this and have the pictures, twould be AWESOME to see.

How is that for a cliched 90s story? And a totally disjointed blog post. Take this away from it: I want to go to these Guidestones. I want to go back in time and spend a day at the quarry with Ryan and Dave and Honey, Duke and Madison, or Scott and Dave and Karen. I still wouldn’t jump.

If you’re reading this and lived in Athens, did you go to the quarry? What do you remember about it? And where is it, exactly?

For Roswell, and for Spanky. RIP.

Friday, September 11th, 2009

A friend of mine is being buried today. I could not make the funeral and I am sad about that. I know that there are others who couldn’t make it either, but that we are all there in thought and, some of us, in prayer.

Charles (we all called him “Spanky”) was not a close friend, but he was a friend, nonetheless. He was a boy who was in my classes. He was a boy who was at parties, who gave great hugs, had a big heart, and was quick to laugh. Charles’ laugh was so distinctive that I can still hear it in my head, clear as a bell. After twenty years, I can still hear his laugh like it was yesterday.

Last Saturday, Charles shot his father, and then he shot himself. The grief one feels over a friend killing themselves is overwhelming. The grief of knowing that someone you cared about took a life, much less the life of someone so close to them. . . that grief is almost unbearable. It makes you want to sleep to escape the thought of it. It makes you want to climb right out of your own skin to stop feeling it. You don’t want to imagine the grief of a mother, a sister suffering the pain of such a loss. And yet you cannot get away from it. It permeates everything.

You try not to think about it, but you can’t stop. It keeps you up at night, wondering how it turned out this way. You think, here I am, with my loving husband, my wonderful children, and my happy home. Here I am twenty years later (a blink of an eye, really) and where did Charles go? What happened to him in the last twenty years?

I cannot reconcile the boy I knew with the picture in my head of the man he became.

I have thought of it hourly for the last five days. I have wondered how it was him that ended up with an addiction. There were so many of us, and so many of us did more than we should have, and what made him the victim of addiction? It could have been any of us. “There but for the Grace of God go I” is on a loop in my head this week. I have thought about God, and heaven, and forgiveness. I have thought about whether there is an afterlife, and if it is punitive, or if it is a place where we all will find forgiveness, solace, and peace. I came up with no answers, save one: We are all so intertwined.

When I think of the community I came from, one that is grieving from top to bottom, one that was touched in so many ways by this one family, I know this: We are all intertwined. The things we do have an impact. Sometimes that impact is not seen until we lose a piece of ourselves. And then it breaks down and we are so very aware of the gaping holes in our lives. This one boy with the unique laugh was a friend to so many of us. He was a son, a brother, a cousin. And his loss and the loss of his father are felt so very strongly by one community today. The one thing I know is that we are all stronger for having known one another and that each and every one of us can never forget that we hold those that love us in the palms of our hands.

This is for the town that I have scorned. The town that has changed so much over the years and which I was so glad to have left. But that town is not just growth and development and a homogeneous population. It is the town where I grew up. It is a community, no matter how far flung we all our now; Deep down, we are still those kids that walked to school through an old cemetery to sit in run-down classrooms together. We are church groups, and football teams, and kids who sneaked into neighborhood pools together. We fought at the water tower. We are a bunch of kids in the McDonald’s parking lot on a Friday night, waiting to see where the party would be that night.

This is for Roswell, a community that lost two of her own this week, and who is the lesser for the loss, but the greater for having known each other.

Another friend sent me the lyrics to this song. I have heard from distraught friends all week long. It has hurt my heart, but reminded me that I came from somewhere, that we all came from the same place. That when one of us hurts, we all hurt.

Adapted from the Will Oldham song.

Adapted from the Will Oldham song.

And the original:

Family, Friends, Oddities

Sunday, August 2nd, 2009

So, had a nice day. Got up early, went to family reunion. I like to see my Mom hang with her family, or as we call them around the house, “her people.” The kids swam like fish, and we ate burgers and dogs, and drank beer. It was awesome to see my cousins that I never get to see, even though we didn’t get nearly enough time together. It is hard to pay attention to people when you are trying to make sure your children aren’t drowning. it is distracting. I think that being distracted is one of the hardest parts of being a parent. You constantly feel distracted.

Todd stayed home, because he had been out so late the night before, working on a shoot that ended up lasting 21 hours. I gave him a pass on the reunion, because that’s how i roll.

When i got home, we put kids in pjs, then I took a shower and we headed out to my friend Evan’s. Evan and I have known each other since forever. I think he was 11 and I was 10 when we first met. I can’t believe that I have friends that I have known for TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS. Seriously. That is a long ass time.

Evan and his wife have a Rock Paper Scissors Tournament every year. Nope. not Kidding. Pretty fun stuff. Evan is also one of the most awesome people that I know, because he does things like build his own Giant Jenga. Have you ever played Jenga? Yeah, it’s fun. Now imagine playing it with big old 2X4s, cut to proportional Jenga size. This is hard to explain, but basically, it creates a Jenga that is as high as you. So, if Jenga falls, you get injured feet. It is pretty fun. I rocked it. Which means somebody else lost and i didn’t get mushed toes. There were also some boys who decided to create their own Danger Jenga, which was basically a bunch of boys piling wood and coolers, and boxes and shit on top of each other to create a tower. I like.

And then there was the weird Dance Off. It turns out that one of my son’s classmate’s father works with Evan. This father is quietish and the wife is really shy and quiet. Then I hear one day that these folks crashed a NYE party. The father danced like a maniac while the wife watched. Women were amazed by his moves. I was skeptical. So, the guy shows up at Evan’s. He BROUGHT HIS OWN MUSIC. Not kidding.

And then, after a while, he and another guy proceeded to have a dance off. There were splits, spewing beer, and a stripper pole involved.

And I was worried that they were going to be upset that their daughter’s room mother knocked back five beers in two hours. . . . silly me. I’m still kind of amazed that i am a parent.

Oh, tomorrow, I will have to tell you about Play Him Off Keyboard Cat, and also the list that Jason and I gave to Evan. How odd is it to see what you wrote at 18 years of age, after 20 years? So odd.

Roiling the Waters

Friday, July 31st, 2009

I find it scary, the way that my brain works. I woke up this morning, after having some really wild dreams. Dreams with people I haven’t seen in years, mixed in with my friends and family of today. How can my subconscious dig up things that I had dealt with and forgotten years ago, and switch them all around into some crazy movie slash horror film in my head? Brain, you don’t even get all of the details right. And yet, here I sit today, feeling a little shell-shocked, and a lot sad, and really melancholy. It rains outside, and thunders, and I listen to music that wasn’t even part of the soundtrack of that past landscape. I try to figure out why I am feeling down, and I realize it is because I made myself feel this way, by dreaming things that never happened.

What is it that I am trying to work out? Because I wasn’t even aware there was anything to work out.

Dream Annie, go to hell for roiling the waters and making me sad. I am fine. Why can’t you leave it be?

Beater: A Creepy Childhood Memory

Tuesday, July 28th, 2009

So, not sure how this came up last night, but it is scary and funny all at the same time. Growing up, we had this guy living with his parents down the street from us. He was probably somewhere from 18 to 25 and he was ultra strange. He had an arm that didn’t work, and it would just hang at his side as he walked down the street past our house. I never saw him drive. He would just walk down the street back to his house from where ever he had been, carrying a brown paper bag in the good arm. Never knew what was in the bag.

So, we always thought he was scary, and he rarely talked to us kids. We never talked to him. If anything, we moved away from the street edge of the yard when we saw him coming. Even at ten years old, a kid senses when someone just ain’t right. Turns out we were right on the money.

A little girl was selling girl scout cookies one day. She rang the guy’s doorbell. He came to the door wearing nothing but a towel. He stood there and stared at her, then dropped the towel. Eeewww.

Then, another time, he got caught playing with himself while watching kids play at the pool! Double eww.

My memory is fuzzy, but I want to say that there was another time when he may have asked us kids about the girl that lived next door to us. As in, “who is that blond girl?” Creepy!

All in all, I am surprised that there was no parental outpouring of hatred for this guy. I tell you what, though. Kids are mean as all get out. What did we call him?

Beater.

I don’t know why that makes me laugh now, but Todd thinks it is funny, too. (So, maybe there is something wrong with both of us.) Also not sure why i had to write about this, but it is part of the landscape of my suburban Atlanta childhood and I didn’t want to forget it.

Cookout!

Saturday, July 4th, 2009

Cookout. Julie Merry in town. Haven’t seen her in ages. Much fun had by all. Adults got sloshy. Kids stayed up til after ten.


p.s. Happy fourth of july. I love that all the people I love are free to be the wonderful people they are.

Stone Mountain Picnic

Wednesday, July 1st, 2009

God, I am behind, but wanted to post these pics from a picnic we did with friends. It was the day after my triathlon, and was for my college friend, Rachel. Rachel moved to Denver, and ended up marrying Robin’s friend from Boulder, Dave. It is a very small world, even without Facebook.

Lots of fun was had by all – I had forgotten how awesome Stone Mountain is. No, we didn’t stay for the laser show (too late for the kiddos), but that will need to be remedied soon, as Todd has never been. And that’s just wrong. I have heard it is not as far out as it used to be, which kind of sucks.

I went on a blind date to the laser show one time in high school. It was. . . interesting. I digress.

Also, anyone ride bikes out at Stone Mountain? Just curious. Have heard some do, but don’t know anyone who does. . . .

More photos on Flickr. . .