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All in All Okay

Tuesday, September 11th, 2012

Day 2 of Todd Johnson’s two week absence:

# of hours slept last night: maybe 6?
#book reports completed: 0
# cat poops cleaned off carpet: 2
# cats still living: 2
# pissed off neighbors: 1
# of favors owed Lauren Sullivan Shankman and Scott Shankman: 4
# times i cried about 9/11: 3
# of nights i’ve gone without doing dishes: 2
# miles run: 0
# old friends I got to hug: 1
# episodes of Buffy watched: 2
# points over for day in Weight Watchers: Five million
# vodka tonics: 1 (large)
# children still living: 2

But it’s okay. We have our health. . .

Tags: Lists
Posted in Family, Home, Humor, Life, Lists, Parenthood, todd | 2 Comments »

Never Forget: What is your 9/11 Story?

Tuesday, September 11th, 2012

I sit here every year, read a few news articles about folks who lost their lives, families whose loved ones never came home that day, and heroes who saved others, but lost their own lives. I never quite know what to say. It is a sadness that will never go away, and as someone I know said (and I apologize for not remembering who), the whole “never forget” thing is patently ridiculous. As if anyone could ever, in a million years, forget what that day was like. It was one of the most emotional days i have ever lived, full of anger, relief, disgust, horror, fear, disbelief, confusion, and a heartwrenchingly deep sadness. It is a waking nightmare that I take out like a worry stone once a year, just to remind myself that it was real, it really happened, and it happened to us all. A mass consciousness nightmare from which we will never quite awaken.

It also gives me one ray of hope . . . We have it so easy in our country, in so many ways, that we don’t know true day-to-day horror. I never want to experience something like 9/11 again, but I also never want to forget that given the right circumstances, our country might once again come together and stand undivided. It happened in those days after 9/11 and it might one day happen again.

Never forget. Here is what i wrote about my experience on 9/11 for the 911Digitalarchive, back in 2006. (OMG, i have been blogging for too long, i think!) I often revisit what 9/11 means to me and how my views about it have changed over the years, but i always come back to the story of what happened, of the event itself, and what it looked like from my little corner of the word. I always come back, like a stone that I worry in my palm and fingers, always studying it, but never quite figuring it out.

What is your 9/11 story?

Tags: 9/11
Posted in Angst, Athens, Beauty, Life, Memories, Rollie | No Comments »

On Civil Discourse in Social Media, or That Time My Friend Called My Mom an Asshole on Facebook

Tuesday, September 4th, 2012

I read this post by Ginger at RambleRamble today.

There is a PERSON behind the things you are saying. When you say that all liberals, or all conservativesâ€¦when you say that all Democrats or all Republicansâ€¦when you say that ALL of any group is/says/does/thinks/behaves/believes/hates/loves/etc., you are saying that about real people. Honest to goodness, flesh and blood people. Not just ideologies. Not just platforms. Not just issues. Not just politicians. Your friends. Your family. Your neighbors. Your coworkers.

I was about to say “this amazing post,” but, really, isn’t what she is saying just common sense and common courtesy? Still, she said something that needed to be said, because people need to be reminded that actions often make a difference, and words sometimes make scars.

Take Joe. Joe is gay. He can’t vote Republican, because of the anti-gay rights issue. But he also thinks that Obamacare will bankrupt the country, so he’s not too jazzed about voting Democrat. What kind of choice does he have? And either way, he gets lambasted by the side he doesn’t pick. He votes for a Democrat, and suddenly, he’s “on the government dole.” Just because the poor guy couldn’t bring himself to vote for the people who refused to recognize his civil right to marry whom he wants! Or he votes Republican, and gets to hear all the time about how much he hates gays. He is gay, for fuck’s sake. Does he hate himself? Or maybe he just feels that healthcare mandates will sink his business, and that is slightly more important to him in this election.

Or then there’s, oh, I don’t know . . . my mom. She is voting for Romney (I guess. I didn’t actually ask.)
When I post the article above on Facebook, voicing my agreement, folks weigh in. I think, well, it’s a post about civility on Facebook. People will respect that. They will be civil.

An *acquaintance replies: “I think name calling is ugly, but I will always use my voice for Civil Rights.”

I’m down with that. I do that myself. But i try not to fall into complete and total name calling. I try.

Me: ‘”Civil” – emphasis on civil.”

Acquaintance: “true dat. I stay civil for the most part. but if you are arguing with me that Romney is good for women, I will most likely call you an asshole.”

More posts from other people, in agreement or disagreement.

Acquaintance: “Intolerance is intolerance.”

Why yes, it is. Except, evidently, if you feel that you are right. And then it’s okay.

More posts about “liars,” and “can’t we all just get along,” and “everyone’s already decided who they’re voting for, so what’s the point,” and “isn’t Facebook for venting?”

My Mom: “Just read all of the above. All I learned is that [acquaintance] thinks I’m an asshole.”

Well, yeah, Ma. That’s pretty much all I, or the rest of Facebook, got out of it too. We continue to be raked across the coals by others who believe that if you aren’t with them, you are against them.

So what was the point? Other than for me to be like, “Damn, Acquaintance. I think you’re an okay person, but you did pretty much just call my Mom an asshole.” Along with PROBABLY MORE THAN HALF THE PEOPLE I GREW UP WITH, 3/4 OF MY FAMILY, AND HALF OF AN ENTIRE COUNTRY.

And you know why? Because their priorities are different, and one is intolerant of another’s choice in priority. Or maybe you both care about women, but one of you think that means free birth control and freedom of choice, and one of you believes that it is more helpful for women to live in a country that isn’t going to be crumbling in debt in 20 years.

What is the answer? Hell if I know, but I know what it isn’t. It definitely isn’t some friend of a friend calling my Mom an asshole on Facebook.

I should probably heed this advice a bit more myself. I am not perfect – not even close – but when it comes to politics, I try to be thoughtful and eloquent and not to cuss like a sailor, because I am constantly appalled at all of the people who make sweeping generalizations about huge groups in our country.

“Right-wing Christians won’t stay out of my uterus.”

“Democratic Socialists want to destroy our country from the inside.”

If you vote Republican, you are:

“A moron,” a “nazi,” “uninformed,” “racist,” “unintelligent,” “materialistic,” or “downright evil.”

If you vote Democrat, you are:

“A moron,” “unpatriotic,” “bleeding heart,” “godless,” “communist,” “atheist,” “Muslim-masquerading-as-an-American,” “socialist,” “marxist,” or a “terrorist.”

It’s just ridiculous. It’s like only seeing a world colored in with the 8-color box of Crayolas. Try the 64-color box with the sharpener, folks!

That is what a Crayon Box Should Look Like by BenSpark, on Flickr

There is more than one shade of Red, and more than one shade of Blue. Some of us are Purple. Some of us are Green. Some of us are not even crayons; we are those pens that have four colors in them, and the color changes depending on which button you push when you need a particular color.

Bic four colour pen. Classic doodle biro. by MikiStrange, on Flickr

I tell you, people exist in more than eight colors. Where do these crayons fit?

Fiscal Conservative who votes Democrat because of civil rights issues
Social Conservative who votes Democrat despite civil rights issues
Christian Democrats
Pro-Choice Republicans
Gay Republicans
Gay Christians
Republican parent with a gay son or daughter
Person who eats Chik-fil-a, but thinks two men or two women should be able to marry, have children, adopt children, and be afforded equal rights
Person who believes that the government should not recognize any marriages at all
Democrat who is anti-choice
Agnostic or Atheist Republican
Democrat for the death penalty
Independent who chooses the lesser of two evils, because they just don’t want the “really bad guy” to win, and to do anything else throws away their vote
Independent who decides to vote on principle, and is continually frustrated by other Independents who don’t do the same

I didn’t just create this list out of thin air. These are examples of real people, with real lives, who really struggle with voting on “the issues,” because their lives are not black, or white, or an 8-color box of crayons. And someone thinks every one of those people is an asshole. They said so. On Facebook.

Everyone just keeps trying to jam these Lavenders, Neon Carrots, Manatees, Burnt Siennas, Mahoganys, Crimsons, Flaxes, Forests, and Navys into the 8-color box. We don’t fit. We just don’t fit, and then you tell us we are wrong, evil, stupid for not fitting.

*Person I know. To be fair, she didn’t say, “Hey, Anne. Your mom is an Asshole.” But my Mom thinks voting for Romney is best for our country. Not sure if she thinks he is good for women, but I assume so, because she took offense at the statement. And that happens every five seconds for someone on Facebook. I’m not writing this post to call out this person. (Believe me, when I call people out, I do it by name.) This person is simply an example. This person is not an isolated incident. This person is most of us. Not a friend exactly, but the friend of friends. We have mutual acquaintances. We have mutual friends. Our kids have played together. I think she’s interesting and nice. I would never think she would call my mom an asshole. But she pretty much called my mom an asshole. On Facebook. In front of me. It’s cool. She’s not the only one. She just happened to be the example that happened in the thread where i posted about an article pleading for civility on Facebook. She just happened to be the one who missed the point completely. Am I mad? No. Do I still like her? Yes. Will I ever forget she called my mom an asshole? Nope. Will I forgive her? Yes. Do I hope she, and everyone who reads this, will think twice before making a sweeping generalization or hurling an insult on Facebook? Yes.

Update: Ginger, the author of the original blog post that prompted my post, has posted The Inevitable Follow-Up Post. Well worth a read.

Tags: Civility, Facebook, Social Media
Posted in Life, Politics | 7 Comments »

The Boy Who Smashed My Snow Globe

Monday, August 27th, 2012

At about 5:20, nine years ago today, this little guy came into my life. He totally picked it up like it was a snow globe, turned it around, shook it up. Really, i think the globe just busted wide open, and shattered into a million pieces, catching the summer afternoon light as they skittered across the floor.

He really did absolutely change everything: Who I thought I was, who I am now, who I wanted to be, how I saw everything. Absolutely, irrevocably altered forever. It was the most awesome (in the true sense of the word) thing that has happened to me before or since. That is not to minimize the impact my daughter has had on me, or to say that she is any less important to me. But when she came into my life, I was already far different than the person I had been three years before her birth.

Rollie has become such a boy. No longer a baby. He swims, and dives and spends the night out and runs and goes to the bathroom by himself and buys things at the cashier without me. He likes a girl. He won’t tell me who. He is sweet and sullen. He has stickers and a keep out sign on his bedroom door and he likes The Beatles and Beyblades. He is mean to his little sister in the most malicious and puckish ways – It makes my sister and i laugh to see him torture Tiller as I tortured Lisa. And yet, he will still burst into tears and fly off the handle like a toddler. He will still sometimes hold my hand, or ask to sleep with us, or climb up on the couch next to me and put his sweet head on my chest. I understand now why I will always be my Mama’s baby, why her Mama called her “Baby” until the day she died. My boy has shot up in size, and looking at the pictures of him, I just don’t understand how nine years went by so fast. NINE.

The rest? Unless you are a grandma or aunt, you probably won’t care. It will just be some kid, pretty decent-looking kid, but somebody else’s boy. To me? He is The Boy Who Smashed My Snow Globe.

Tags: birthday, Parenthood, Rollie
Posted in Beauty, Family, Life, Memories, Mushy, Parenthood, Rollie | 8 Comments »

The Sweet Spot: Doing the Right Thing

Tuesday, June 5th, 2012

I’ve had some sleepless nights of late. I lay awake, mulling over my thoughts and actions and reactions, worrying each piece of the puzzle, wondering if I did the right thing.

I did the right thing.

I did what I believe was the right thing to do. In tennis, there is a sweet spot on the racket. When you hit outside the sweet spot, the shot might feel okay, or it might feel completely off. When you hit the sweet spot, though. . . Oh, it just feels like the hand of God came down and made the shot perfect.

And that is how I feel when i go with my gut, say sincerely what i think is the honest truth, when I do what I feel is right. There is thinking involved, too (hence the sleepless nights), but more than anything, there is a sweet spot when I know that I have done what I know is right, in my heart. I feel it, in my heart. To do anything else is fake, inauthentic, or feels off. It’s like walking a balance beam – when I am following my heart, I am walking that beam with surety, looking ahead, in the zone. When i veer from what I believe in, I bobble, I wave my arms wildly, I have to stop and find my balance.

Sometimes finding my balance is easy. Sometimes finding my balance is so obvious a choice that everyone would agree that there’s pretty much only one way to find it. And then there are the times that keep me awake at night. The times when I find the sweet spot and take my shot and it feels perfect and fluid and magical. And then half the people in the crowd tell me that it was wrong. All wrong.

Yet it felt so sweet. But I lay awake pondering every mechanical piece of my swing, what I could have done differently, how each of those little differences would impact the other players, and what the reaction of the crowd would be.

And I realize that I cannot live with being anything but what I am, what I believe in, with sincerity, and thoughtfulness, and a true desire to help others, even when some don’t see that that is what I am doing.

I will stay lay awake at night, thinking about finding a balance. Because I don’t much give a damn what most of the crowd thinks. But I do care what I think about myself, about each shot. I know that my goal is the sweet spot, and that the shots I take must be true.

So, um, yeah. . . This is not really about tennis.

Tags: Balance, Sleeplessness
Posted in Beauty, Life, Musings | 3 Comments »

I Really Wuv Ken Burns

Thursday, May 24th, 2012

Well worth the short five-minute watch.

I love his 1+1=3 analogy and the thought that his work is an attempt to wake the dead. I have often thought that bringing back the dead inspires me to write, or often the desire to hold on to life, because it could be gone in a moment.

I’m heading to Chattanooga tomorrow, and it is a place where I really hear the echoes of the dead. I might be waking the dead a bit. I’m thinking of Grandma, and Uncle Charlie, and Aunt Dot, Margaret and Mary, and even little Gretchen. And Jane, sweet Jane. There is something sweet about walking where others walked and making new memories that mingle so closely with the old. Bittersweet, but mostly sweet.

Thanks for sharing, T2.

Tags: Chattanooga, Ken Burns, Storytelling
Posted in Beauty, Cool Stuff, Family, Genealogy, Life, Memories, Musings, Travel | No Comments »

My Memories as Fairy Tale, or Once Upon A Time I May Have Touched Curt Cobain

Saturday, April 21st, 2012

I was laid out on the couch today, with strep throat. Todd took the kids to R’s baseball game, and I was flipping through Netflix, trying to find something interesting. The good thing about being sick is that I can watch tv that I wouldn’t normally watch. Guilt free. Because i’m sick. I can watch four episodes of British teen dramas. (Skins. I can’t quit you.) Then, I can totally decide to switch over and watch music documentaries, which I used to watch all the time, but never seem to find time for these days. Because of the aforementioned guilt.

And yeah, the music is early 90s. Got all nostalgic after seeing facebook photos posted by college pal Jasonaut. Black and white photos, fresh faces, wrinkled, lived-in clothes that didn’t really fit, Athens porches. Beautiful photos that make me think of the past with wistfulness, even as I realize that photos don’t capture heartbreak, heat, humidity, night breezes, the smell of smoke, or the feel of old couches, or what it feels like to have so. much. time. to. think. About everything. To death.

So, there i was, laid out on the couch, watching a documentary about Nevermind, and the kids walk in from post-game pizza at Felini’s and Tiller is looking all cute, with a pony tail on her head, wearing mary janes, polka-dot leggings, a madras plaid patchwork skirt, and a shirt that can only be described as “riotous” (it had a zebra print, at least five colors, including hot pink, and sequins) – she is Belinda Carlisle on acid. And she walks in, puts her hand on hip, and says definitively, “This is my favorite song.”

It’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” And i though to myself, “novice.”

And then I said, “Really? I didn’t know you liked this song.”

And she said, “Yes,” her hands out to me, palms up, making a point, and cocked her head to the right, nodding. “We listened to the Nirvana in the car with Daddy.” Weird. Synchronicity. Also, this is good, because it means he might have been actually listening to me when I was saying that it was sad the kids don’t hear full albums more often.

“Oh. Okay, well, would you like to watch a documentary about the album?” And I totally thought they would say no, while giving me that “fuck no, i want to play. Why would I want to watch this boring shit?” look, but instead, they both said, “Sure!” in unison, and curled up on the chairs, and there wasn’t even a fight about who would sit where.

And then they started asking questions:

Tiller: “Who’s that? Is he the dead one?”
Me: “Uh, did daddy tell you he died?
Tiller: “Yeah. How did he die?”
Rollie: “He got old, Tiller.”
Me: “Well, actually, no, it’s sad. He killed himself. Have you heard of that?”
In unison: “No.”
Oh. shit.
Me: “Well, he did. It was v. sad. Always remember that no matter how bad it might get, Mama and daddy are here, and you can always talk to us, and it’s never bad enough to kill yourself. It is a selfish, terrible, heartbreaking, sad thing.”
Rollie: “How did he do it?”
Me: “Uh, i don’t remember.” Total lie.
Tiller: “Why?” Uh, shit. Too early to discuss drugs and depression.
Me: “Sometimes people are in pain, physically, or they are so sad that it hurts, and they don’t know what else to do.” SHIT.
Rollie: “Was it a gun?” Shit.
Me: “I don’t know baby. Let’s watch. maybe they will tell us what happened.”

And then, my stomach kind of clenched, because they had Butch Vig talking about recording the song “Something in the Way,” which is just depressing-as-hell, a haunting song, and i was thinking, why am i letting them watch this? Crap!

Rollie: “This one is not so loud.” He says this, not with distaste, but with thoughtfulness.

Butch Vig talks about how he recorded it with Kurt Cobain laying on a couch in the room with the soundboard, and he was just lying on the couch, playing the guitar, and singing, and it was so quiet, and so moving. I was waiting for the kids to get bored and start fidgeting, but they are both staring at Butch Vig, talking about doubling up vocal tracks, like Lennon did, and i see R. jerk his head towards me, like, “Lennon! I know him!” but he turns back to the tv. And they just . . . listen.

Rollie whispers, eyes not leaving the screen: “I like that song.”
Tiller: “Me too.”

And then they start talking about Smells Like Teen Spirit and how they made the video, which, well, you know. You’ve seen it. And Tiller says, in a Barbara Walters-gonna-get-you-to-fess-up-voice: “Mom, were you there?” And I laugh and say no.

And then the documentary starts talking about Nirvana playing live. They show all sorts of footage that makes me smile: Cobain wearing a white coat, beating his head into his amp, and Novoselic throwing his bass in the air, and Cobain leaping into the drum set. I am smiling and I look over at my kids, and they are looking at me, like, “Why are you smiling? Aren’t they gonna get in trouble? Isn’t that bad?”

Tiller: “Why are they making that mess?
Me, smiling a HUGE, guilty grin: “For fun. For entertainment.”
R: “Are those people on stage dancing in the band?
I laugh. “No,” more laughter, “they are people in the crowd stage diving.”
R: “What’s that?”
Me, with a lot more laughter. “It’s stupid. People got so excited and they would jump on stage and dance with bands, and then they would jump into the crowd, and the crowd would catch them, usually, and then they might carry them around. And that’s “crowd surfing.”

Complete silence in the room, as they both sit watching this footage of . . . what i remember going to see bands like that was like. And i realized that they are watching people at a Nirvana show, and it must seem like a fairy tale to them, like my dad telling me he met the Rolling Stones, or if my mom up and told me she was at Woodstock.

Tiller: “Were you there, mom?”
Me, more laughter. Laugh out loud laughter. A happy laughter. “Not there, baby. But i saw them twice. One time in a really big place, like the Georgia Dome, but it was called the Omni. But the first time I saw them, i was in Athens and I saw them in a little small place, smaller than the place where we took you to see They Might Be Giants.” The crowd on TV is pushing and shoving.
Tiller: “Was Daddy there?
Me: “No, baby, i didn’t know Daddy yet. I was there with my roommate and another friend.”
Rollie: “Did you get pushed down?”
Me: “No!”
Rollie: “Did you get pushed?”
Me: “yes.”
Tiller: “Were you scared?”
Me: “No. It was fun.”
Rollie: “Did you get up on stage and jump off?”
Me: “Oh, no, baby. Not my style. Remember I don’t like heights or being the center of attention.”
Rollie: “Did anyone jump off?”
Me: “Yes, Curt Cobain did! But not with his guitar like that.” On the TV, Curt is jumping off a huge stage, with his guitar, at some festival into a sea of people. “And there were not that many people there.”
Tiller: “did you catch him?”
Me: “Yes, everyone caught him. He jumped off, and people caught him, and he grabbed a hold of this movie screen, you know the kind they set up for movies at school? That pull out of the ceiling? And he grabbed hold of it, and he pulled it down, while the crowd was holding him, and it came right out of the ceiling and he wrapped himself up in the screen while the people held him up.”
Tiller, eyes as big as saucers: “Did you touch him?”
Me: “Uh, yeah, i guess so.”

And they both just stared at me.

And I gotta admit . . . I felt like a complete and total bad ass. I really did have a life. Back in the day. And what’s more? I’m pretty sure they thought i was a badass. That will probably never happen again. At least until they have children of their own. And then they will know that keeping a kid alive for 8 years is pretty badass in and of itself.

p.s. Mom? Dad? Y’all aren’t perfect, but I do think you’re pretty badass.

post-post script: Interestingly, i found this site, because I was curious if anyone else had written about the show online. I would have keeled over in happiness to find a photo of that night. Not even a complete setlist.

10/05/91 – 40 Watt Club, Athens, GA
Set (incomplete)
Smells Like Teen Spirit â€¢ Breed â€¢ Endless, Nameless
Notes
The band was drunk and out of tune, but the show was apparently incredible, according to attendees.
During “Endless, Nameless,” Kurt vaulted up to the movie projection screen and ripped it out of the ceiling, inciting the crowd to get onstage with the band and trash everything. Meanwhile, Dave kicked his drums over, then piled them up in no particular order and played them with microphones. After the noise and destruction, the band piled their instruments onto the drums, wished the crowd a good night, and left the stage, according to an attendee.
Other Performers
Das Damen

So, yeah. . . i guess i didn’t totally dream it.

Tags: 40 Watt, Fairy Tales, Nirvana
Posted in Angst, Athens, College, Life, Memories, Music, Parenthood, Rollie, Tiller | 1 Comment »

Spring Break 2012

Monday, April 9th, 2012

We did the Spring Break thing. A few days on Hilton Head (Todd had a shoot this week: Bad advertising world! Bad!) and then we did the lake for Easter with the whole family. About 24 hours of my family in one small 2BR lakehouse is all I can take, no matter how much I love them. I think this is normal?

So busy after being gone – work, laundry, trying to get back into a diet and exercise happy place. I feel like a train that derailed in a fiery crash of fried, fat, beer and excess!

: Best five dollars you can spend on I-16. Really breaks up the trip. Also funny to hear people talk about animals.

: Pro Tip: See this guy? He will stalk you if you have food. Have an adult walk along the fence with him, leading him with a kernel here, kernel there, drawing him away from the kids trying to feed the other animals. He is the biggest pig!

: Tills was pretty scared to feed the animals. Course the evil Emu did almost take a couple fingers.

: Feeding the goats. Seriously. If you are on 16 and don’t stop to feed the animals, you are neglecting your children.

: My peeps. My reputation as the Goat Man’s granddaughter precedes me.

: So in love with goats.

: Squee. OMG. Baby Goat. LOVE. Want. I have a problem.

: Tiller is enamored of all things horsey. Like mother, like daughter.

: Lorenzo needs some dental work.

: Being goofballs after Salty Dog Easter Egg Hunt.

: Wearing mama’s shades.

: The girl, prancing around on a wall.

: R. still sits by me sometimes.

: Me, kids, sun, boat, love.

: He is just too cool for school these days.

: My sweet girl.

: Tills got pooped out on the boat ride.

: The Harbortown Lighthouse from the water.

: There were actually two dolphins.

: Coming close!

: Coulda reached out and touched them.

: Up close, right next to the boat. Didn’t get a head shot, unfortunately.

: Dolphin

: Dolphin

: R. holding on, just before he got soaked.

: Too sunny!

: Random Sailboat

: Little man looking cool.

: First boat ride on the open water.

: My little man. Sometimes I wonder if he is just handsome because he is mine.

: The Big C

: The Boy cousins. They are so stinkin’ cute together it hurts. Dash looks up to R. and does whatever R. does. And Rollie is maturing so much – helps Dash get around and in and out of the lake and carries him and puts him on the JetSki and stuff like that. Adorable. I know that this will inevitably lead to R. buying D. beer. *sticks head in sand like ostrich*

: Checking out the Easter loot.

: Chilling on the porch.

: Three cousins.

: Crazy kids waiting to do an Easter Egg Hunt.

: And they’re off! Uncle Mark lets the big kids out of the gate. Also, the only way to get Mark in a photo is by stealth.

: Look how many Dash got.

: Grandma and the kids.

: Grandma and all the babies.

: My peeps. Trying to get them all in these photos was like herding cats.

: Mom and Leelee

: My spawn.

: Grandparents and Grandkids. Um, not sure what Cecil is wearing.

: Three generations

: Our Family

: Sisters. Love her. So much.

: Little Dashie

: Me and the New Baby

Highlights of the week, not in photos: Fishing with my kiddos at dusk. Morning kids swimming with dog while I drink coffee at lake. Watching Brody revel in lake life. Puttering around with my dad for a day at the lake, fixing stuff, for once not snapping at each other. A rarity. Mom’s potato salad. My kids’ awesome manners while out to eat in HHI. I almost cried. Watching Venus in the Pleiades (spelling?) from the dock on a clear night. On the water at the beach. Seeing kids’ faces when they saw dolphins up close. Hearing their contagious laughter in the car on 441 – They had a “make each other laugh contest” and were killing Todd and I with their laughter. Such sweet music. Driving home on a sunny, perfectly-warm Easter afternoon with only Rollie and Brody in the car. Windows down, listening to an old mix CD of some of my all-time favorite songs, discussing them with Rollie: He asks a lot of questions, like “who is it by? What is it called? What is it about? Why do you like it?” Memorable discussions of songs – “Mayonnaise” by Smashing Pumpkins, “This Must Be The Place” by Talking Heads, and “Tempted” by Squeeze. R. thought it was so funny that I used to sing it to him as a lullaby when he would cry as a baby. Teaching kids to jump rope in the driveway last night. “Cinderella, dressed in yellow. . . ” (What are your favorite jump rope rhymes?)

Hope you all had a great Easter, Seder, spring break, etc.

Tags: Easter, Hilton Head, Lake
Posted in Beauty, Brody, Cecil, Dash, Family, Holiday, Life, Lisa, Memories, Mushy, Music, Rollie, The Lake, Tiller, todd, Travel | No Comments »

Girls Gone Mild 2012: Tybee Island

Wednesday, March 14th, 2012

This time last week, I was on Tybee. Gawd, I love that place. Reminds me of everything that is awesome in life: Beach, warm sun, sand, marshes and birds, beer, kids and “yes, Ma’am,” and fresh seafood, and my grandparents, and being a Georgian. Say what you will (and leave politics out of it), but I live in one of the most beautiful states ever. Cities and beaches and swamps and Piedmont farm fields, and pine forests and hardwood forests and wilderness and lakes and mountains. (Seriously. Name another state with both the Appalachians and a monstrously-huge swamp. Alabama, maybe?)

Georgia is who I am. I feel Georgia in my bones.

So, I was excited to spend a few days on Tybee, with my little sister and my dear friends Robin and Vanessa. They’re my “newer” college friends. You know, I’ve only known them for a little over 20 years now. [gulp] Even more exciting was the fact that neither Robin or Vanessa had ever been to Savannah or Tybee. I wish we had more time – they barely got to scratch the surface. Pretty sure they caught the bug, though. They will return. I know it.

We got in on Sunday, after an enjoyable ride down 16, the world’s most boring drive (if you don’t happen to have three of your best friends with you, doing godawful Irish brogues in Dublin, and performing their best machine gun sounds – it’s true, girls really can’t do them – which make your stomach hurt from laughing, and which put everyone’s lives in peril as you struggle to keep the car on the road because you can’t see through the tears of laughter).

Got there, and checked into our condo. (We considered a house, which i would have preferred, but the condo had a heated pool and in early March, heated pool wins out.) Then we had drinks, hit the IGA for provisions. (I could write a whole blog post on just the IGA – awesomely strange people-watching. People drink while shopping for groceries. Hysterical. Oh, and did I mention awesome? They will deliver your groceries to your door, or stock your place before you even get there.) Then we went to Sting Ray’s for dinner. It was good, and they had decent beer and they were open on Sunday and god, i was starving. This is also the moment where our trip catchphrase was born. You know: Every trip with friends has one. Todd went to Tybee a couple of years ago and came back with “Release the Kracken!” They even had their own logo:

Gratuitous Kracken photo, courtesy of Iain Stewart, because it still cracks me up.

Ours? “I don’t know about you whores, but. . . ”

As in: I don’t know about you whores, but yes. We are that classy. And then we went back to our place, drank tequila, watched The Walking Dead, and made bird statues do weird things to each other.

On Monday, we rented bikes from Fat Tire Bikes. They were so sweet, gave us an “off-season” discount, and we made friends with Joey, a former science teacher, who now works part-time at the bike shop. They also traded out my bike for me when I had an overnight slow leak. Good people.

Lisa and Robin decided to head straight back to the pool, so they piled their bikes in the back of my van, while Vanessa and I readied for a ride, by spending about an hour adjusting our bike seats (I have long legs people!) and she practiced riding in a parking lot next to the bike shop. While we did that, we heard a crash and looked out in the middle of Butler (main st. on Tybee) and there is Robin running in the middle of the road picking up a bike basket that fell out of the back of the van. Yes, my sister likes to floor it. Even when there are bikes, not tied down, in the back of my open van. This happened right in front of the bike shop, which made me laugh my ass off. *No bikes were harmed in the course of this trip. Not sure when Nessie last rode a bike, but i think it had been a while. But, you know, riding a bike is, um, just like riding a bike. It came back to her and then we hit the road and explored and looked at houses and it was fucking awesome.

Then we hit the pool! Not much better than a day sitting around a pool with friends. We also tormented my husband by texting him at work and asking him to be our cabana boy. He is a good egg, my husband. I finished The Scottish Prisoner and started reading Ready Player One.

That night, we had dinner at North Beach Bar and Grill (unassuming building near the lighthouse, but great food and great servers!) And then we went to Huca Poo’s for beer. No link because damn, they need a new website. OMG, i loved this place. Not for those sensitive to smoke (you can still smoke in public places there, which is so weird, even though it wasn’t so long ago that everywhere was like that.) First of all, great bartender, Al. For the Auburn folks, he was a cross between Jared Pearce and my Mama. I don’t know how else to describe him. Red leather barstools, just like they had at The Georgia Bar, back in the day, when that was actually the place to be in Athens. Sweet seats! Pinball. People playing poker at a corner table. That ring toss game that I need to install at the lakehouse. Great people-watching. And DOGS AT THE BAR. There was an actual dog, named Zoe, wearing a plaid scarf, sitting on a barstool at the bar. God bless bars like this. I could live in one. Not kidding when I say i could put it in my top 20 bars of all time. (No, I haven’t really made this list, but i might some day.)

This place is the good stuff.

Tuesday, we had planned to spend the day in Savannah, but for some reason, everyone slept late and we bailed on that. So, instead, we rode bikes in the a.m. Okay, i had to get my damn tire fixed, and then i rode bikes. We ate lunch at Fannie’s On the Beach. Their onion rings are the best thing since beer. And then the girls went back to the pool and I rode my bike all by myself for a while. No pictures of that. It’s all in my head, though, and it’s all mine. And no one can take it away.

And then i think we had more time at the pool, and then we were tired and we ordered pizza in and drank some more that night. They don’t call us Girls Gone Mild for nothing.

Wednesday morning, Leelee and i got up bright and early and went for a bike ride. It was one of the best mornings I can remember having with my sweet sister. When was the last time you rode bikes with your sibling? There is a magic to it, like you are six years old again. We looked at houses, and talked, and did fashion shoots and action shots (see below) and walked on the pier and laughed.

And on the way back home, i rode past a house and saw my friend Lisa standing out in the front yard! Lisa is friends with my friend Donnie, from college. They live in Savannah, but Lisa has a landscaping company, Plan It Green Design, and she was working on one of the Mermaid Cottages on the island. She is awesome, even though I don’t know her that well. But you know, when you go skinny dipping at a downtown Atlanta hotel’s rooftop pool at 1 am on a Monday night after a Pixies show, you’re pretty fast friends. Anyway, it is a small world and it was nice to hug her neck and say hello.

Let’s see, what else? Robin and i walked on the beach a bit, and then we took Nessa and Robbie to The Crab Shack. I can’t really explain the crab shack. You will just have to go there on your own. Suffice it to say that it is extremely touristy, located down a weird mobile-home/awesome backriver home street, and it has cats, raccoons, parrots, and real live gators. Kids adore it, and adults lie if they don’t kind of like it too. Except for Robin, who doesn’t really eat seafood and was quite unimpressed. I felt a little sorry for her as I sucked crawfish heads and the eyes stared at her as she ate her ribs. I cracked shells and and slurped mussels and pretty much gave into the thrill of killing my own food as i ate it. I am a sucker for a food with a carapace or a shell or an exoskeleton. They are so fun to eat! And then we took photos with the fake gator. Fake gators are always a good time.

And on our last night, we went to the pier and it was a full moon and you could see Venus and Jupiter, i think, and the moon shined on the river. I stood on the end of the pier, looking down, watching the flow of the river make it’s way back out to the ocean. I thought about how good it feels to go with the flow of your heart and your desires, to be like the river, ebbing and flowing with the pull of the moon, and I knew that it is okay to be me, even if I change directions at the damnedest times, and with no apparent reason. I have my reasons, like the tides have the moon.

And then we went back and packed up and planned for a Kamikaze tour of Savannah the next morning. We got up, returned out bikes and said our goodbyes to Joey, and hit the road. I hate to leave Tybee – it pulls at my heartstrings so. The girls wanted to see Bonaventure, so we went there first, and spent a delightful morning walking the cemetery. It is truly beautiful, even if touristy.

And then we got REAL hangry and decided to eat on River Street, which I would normally avoid, but I thought if we had such a short time, they would want to see its cobblestone and the preparations for St. Patty’s that were already underway, and the sweet shops. OHGODTHESWEETS. There does exist, by the way, a peanut butter cup that is too big for me to finish. I didn’t think it was possible, but it is true.

The sad part is that we had to hit the road, and they never even got the chance to walk the squares, which is the true beauty of Savannah, but i am sure they will come back. I know I will. Maybe Girls Gone Mild 2013?

: Gratuitous Kracken photo, courtesy of Iain Stewart, because it still cracks me up.

: This place is the good stuff.

: I didn’t really drink the tequila while driving on 16, mom. I swear. We put the hurt on it later, though.

: And so it begins. . . our first little drinks of the trip. Some day i will figure out the timer on my camera.

: Lisa shows off our first drinky at the beach. It had tequila in it. We like tequila, so we brought four bottles.

: Our view at sunset.

: My photogenic friends.

: Vanessa is always tres mysterioso. That’s foreign for weird.

: I felt almost sorry for the birds. They were the subject of much inappropriate attention.

: I’m not even sure what is going on here. Something not quite right.

: Robbie and leelee ready for the pool.

: We did some sitting pool side. And some drinking. And a whole lot of talking.

: Lisa brings the cuteness. One of us has to hold up that end. I don’t get “cute” v. often.

: She’s cute. And it makes me happy she will wear my Georgia hat, even though her husband and son are Gators.

: Joey will set you up with a bike. He’s real sweet. You will have to take it back the next day, because it has a flat tire and he will invite you to come play trivia with him. People are real nice on Tybee. Or maybe just bored and lonely and loving to meet new people. Hard to tell.

: I just love this photo. You have to click on it to get the full effect.

: Yeah, we’re pretty cute on bikes. We get that all the time.

: The girls getting pointers from our good friend Joey at the bike shop.

: This is the first of a group of action shots involving Lisa and the bike. You know, to prove that we actually rode the bikes. Because some people think we just drink and lounge at the beach. Although the bikes DO have drink holders. Just sayin.’

: Actions shots are essential photo opps for any vacay.

: Action shot 2. I thought she was about to wipe out.

: Action shot 3

: Lee is a showboat.

: BoopBoopDeeBoop!

: Coy and Sweet. Yeah right.

: She’s my best friend, y’all. Like no other. Also the only one who truly understands curly beach hair.

: Don’t I look happy to be having my photo made?

: Backriver pier.

: Backriver.

: Lisa and me.

: Me and my sis, LouLou. Best morning I’ve had in years.

: My favorite time of day, always and forever.

: This is how my hair looks at the beach: CRAYCRAY

: This makes my heart happy.

: I love when the sky is moody.

: Work it.

: Work it.

: Supermodel

: I didn’t know Robin was taking this. Sneaky girl.

: The one that got away? I don’t know.

: Oh, that crazy Crab Shack.

: This just makes me laugh.

: Crazy Crab Shack Girls.

: Oh, look! There’s a movie star in the elevator! Who is it?

: “There is no death! What seems so is transition; This life of mortal breath is but a suburb of the life Elysian, whose portal we call death.” Whoa.

: A Celtic cross in Bonaventure.

: Not sure if he belongs to my Butlers. They are a wily bunch in this area.

: Almost looks like a movie set.

: Angel watching over.

: Most magical Live Oak arches.

: She watches over, too.

Tags: Bonaventure, Girls Gone Mild, savannah, Tybee
Posted in Beauty, Friends, Georgia, Life, Lisa, Travel | 9 Comments »

Real Life and Writing

Tuesday, March 13th, 2012

Real life is so so so so in the way of my other life: The one in my head, that I imagine living, and that I actually do live every once in a while. The one where I ride bikes with my sister, walk on the beach, read a lot, and laugh til my stomach hurts. I got to live it for a few days last week, with the girls, on Tybee. Pics of that to come, maybe later today, maybe tomorrow. I have told myself I will get back to writing on my blog daily, but sometimes I have big ideas, and then don’t have the time to put them down on the page. I used to fill those spaces with the little gems – pictures of the kids, the dog, a link to something I love. Now those things invariable get tweeted or Facebook-posted. I am going to try to make sure they go on the blog again, because they are also part of who I am, and I’d like to see them categorized and archived. I miss them being in “my place.”

Today’s gem is an interview with Diana Gabaldon, via Authors Road. (Embedding disabled, so you will have to follow the link if you want to see it. Note: it’s 30 minutes! Poor Todd had to listen over my shoulder this morning. Also, this video is really only for those interested in the writing craft, Diana Gabaldon novels, or raven sculptures. (That last one is really just myself and Vanessa.)) She is one of my favorite writers, mostly because she created a crazy series that defies categorization, but also because she reminds me a bit of myself.

My favorite part of the interview, other than the awesome parts about how she actually writes? The fact that she loved Trixie Belden books as a girl. I <3 Trixie Belden.

“Don’t you wish that the Bob-Whites could just go on and on as we are now, just the same age as we are now?”

Trixie Belden, The Mystery of the Missing Heiress

Wow. I should really write about Trixie Belden one day.

Back to real life!

Love,
Dogwood Girl

Tags: Authors Road, Diana Gabaldon, Trixie Belden, Tybee
Posted in Art, Beauty, Birds, Books, Life, Writing | 2 Comments »

Dogwood Girl