Memories « Dogwood Girl

Archive for the ‘Memories’ Category

The Bear Went Over the Mountain

Wednesday, February 9th, 2011

Rollie was in his first grade musical last week. Okay, I don’t like to brag, but he was the lead in the first grade musical.

I know what you’re thinking. . . where did that come from? He didn’t get that from his mama, that’s for sure. And you’re right. His teacher told me she wanted to challenge him. He had to memorize a lot of lines for the thing. I think it had little to do with stage presence, dreams of being a star, or singing ability. I think it just probably had to do with height and ability to read well.

In truth, when i found out he was the lead, my first reaction was, “oh, GAWD.” I hate musicals, drama, etc. I mean, I’ll go see Shakespeare, but I have never been a theatrical person, had any desire or aspirations to act or dance or sing. I have a terrible voice. I am not creative. I think musicals, for the most part, are stupid. Sorry, Glee fans.

I had people come up to me and say, “Hey, Rollie is THE BEAR! Congratulations! and then look at me, as if ready to gauge my reaction. (At first, my reaction was, “So?” Because I hadn’t read that sheet that comes home with instructions on how to dress your child for the play, and with the lines and parts. So I didn’t really know that the bear was, like, a big deal.)

I have to admit, when my kid is chosen for a role like this, sometimes I sense a bit of jealousy. It sounds crazy, and maybe it is my imagination, but in a way, a role like this is LOST on someone like me. It is ironic, then, that my son is chosen for the lead on something like this. I could care less. But there are moms out there who would LOVE to do this thing, who would make a beautiful costume for their kid, and go through trial runs of makeup, and sew, for fuck’s sake. I am not that mom.

All that being said, when his teacher framed it as “challenging him” i was glad that she did it. he had to work hard to memorize his lines, and I had to get out of my comfort zone just to watch him in the performance, so i guess it was challenging all around. And working up to the day of the play, i became increasingly nervous for him. He is so smart and charming, when he wants to be. And when he doesn’t. . . well, he is going to be the person he wants to be. To the point where I could have seen him saying, five minutes before the play, “I don’t feel like being the bear.” Or, “I’m not wearing the ears.” Or just having a meltdown and kicking things and crying. I was a nervous wreck, and mostly just trying to be upbeat and excited, to mirror excitement for him.

And it seemed to work. Todd and I were in the crowd, with his parents, my parents, my sister, Dash, and Tiller. The lights went down and the whole thing went off without a hitch. (Well, there was some kind of whispered squabble for a second, between him and the owl, but it passed quickly and nearly imperceptibly.) All of the animals made it up and back down the mountain in one piece. Dash clapped with glee throughout the whole thing. The cast sang in sweet unison, and hugged and held hands, and I marveled at the sight of these kids I know in real life becoming their animal and embracing their parts, even if they just had one line, and making them their own.

And after, when the bear and the other animals were taking their bow, i was proud. And I thought, huh, maybe I DO like musicals.

Rollie, just hours before showtime.

Behind the Music: The Making of Da Bear

John, Greta and . . One of the twins. (Dang it.)

Principal with Beautiful Scenery

Rollie as Da Bear. I was so nervous and proud to watch him up on that stage.

The Bunny Twin (Leah? Syd?)

The Quail Twin?

The cast of the first grade play: The Bear Went Over the Mountain.

Rollie with castmates Skye and Katie

A closeup of Mama's little bear.

Rollie and Grace had two of the biggest parts in the play (she was the owl). they had to sing together and hold hands, and they did a great job. Only one little sec where I thought Rollie might get mad and push her or something. Have you seen Black Swan? I guess these performances can be real pressure cookers. Other than that, they did GREAT!

Syd and Leah: I believe they are a Quail and a Bunny.

Rollie, with fans Dash and Tiller, Post-Performance

One other thing I forgot to mention, which falls under the “family lore” category. Growing up, when my sister and i were young teens, and allowed to watch things like PG 13 movies, we often watched movies as a family. For some reason, my father, completely uncomfortable with the blossoming womanhood of his two daughters, would sing, “The Bear Went Over the Mountain” at the top of his voice during sex scenes in movies. To this day, i cannot separate the song “The bear went over the mountain” from thoughts of my father making last ditch attempts at shielding his innocent daughters from the likes of Tom Cruise getting it on with Kelley McGillis in Top Gun. It cracks me up to this day.

Tags: Education, The Bear Went Over the Mountain
Posted in Beauty, Dash, Education, Family, Memories, Parenthood, Rollie | 3 Comments »

Forgotten Post: NC Girls’ Weekend

Sunday, January 23rd, 2011

Not sure why, but I wrote this and forgot to publish it back in November!

Do you have old friends that you still get together with for weekends here and there?

About once or twice a year, I get together with some of my college roommates. I met them the first quarter I was in college at The University of Georgia. (I may have mentioned on Dogwood girl that I attended that fine institution.) I was trying to study for my first ever college exam, and I was so nervous, that I had studied for hours. (Duh. I aced it. Part of a terrible domino effect of events that resulted in me doing terribly for a year there at school. Better to not do so well on that first test and think that college is hard than to get it in your head that you barely need to study.) Well, I was tired, over-caffeinated, and stressed. My boyfriend and friends had all gone to see a band (Five-Eight, if I recall correctly) and I wished I was out seeing a band, too. I was trying to concentrate, and all I could hear was music booming, shrieks of laughter, and loud voices across the hall.

Have you met me? I am not shy. I marched right across the hall, and I asked them (probably not-so-politely) to keep it down. So, this little tiny thing with dark hair and a pair of the most piercing blue eyes I have ever seen, marched right up to me in the door way. I towered over her, and looking down at her, she was looking up at me, and if looks could kill, i woulda been a dead girl. She stared me down for a minute, then looked at my t-shirt, then said,

“You like Jane’s Addiction?”

I was completely caught off guard. I laughed.

“Yeah, i like them. You?”

“Yeah. I’m Honey.”

That was the Fall of 1990. We’ve been friends ever since.

This is us on our floor at Church Hall.

I think that’s Rachel’s room to the left of Charlie, and maybe Jennifer’s to the right of mine? I honestly can’t remember her last name now. Charlie was my boyfriend at the time. I think he is wearing my Hellraiser shirt! I was wondering what happened to it. I bet Matt Long was wondering, too, because I think I stole it from him. On the back, it said, “So many monsters, so little time.”

So, Honey was a deadhead, as was her roommate Laura. Not really my thing, so it was funny that we ended up friends, but college dorms make strange bedfellows. We all smoked cigarettes like maniacs, and played cards (Spitemouse!) and Nintendo in their room, for hours on end. Honey, and Laura, and Rachel, along with Jennifer, Rachel, Joy, and some chick that lived across the hall from me and could play the guitar like a mother. We laughed our guts out, and acted like complete dorks in front of each other.

Our friendship was cemented that year.

The following year, in the Fall of 1991, when we decided to get an apartment together, we added in their friend, Dana. I didn’t know Dana that well. I only met her through Honey and Laura, but we became fast friends. We shared a room in the three-bedroom apartment, to save money. It was v. glamorous: Two twin mattresses on the floor. Add in two long-term boyfriends, and it was a coed sleepover just about every night. (Sorry, mama.)

Wish I had a picture of Robert, who was Dana’s boyfriend at the time, but I don’t think I do. He is definitely a part of the landscape that was my sophomore year in college. He stayed up late watching TV and drawing. That was the year I had purple hair, which I remember, because Mya and I died our hair together in my bathroom in that apartment. No pictures of that either. I can only imagine that it must have looked horrible, but I can’t really remember. If you have a picture of it, for the love of God, please scan it and send it to me. I need a laugh.

We played a lot of Taboo, and the boys upstairs had lots of keg parties. Ren and Stimpy was always on tv during the weekends. That was also, “The Year Punk Broke,” I believe. Nirvana’s Nevermind came out that fall. I bought it the day it came out. I still remember begging Laura to go see Nirvana with me at the 40 Watt. Awesome show. I think Chris Herren went with us, too. It seems like everyone else had gone home that weekend, or something. And I think Dinosaur, Jr. played the very next night. That weekend is a distant blur of a memory of an awesome rock and roll weekend that I just enjoyed the heck out of. Green Mind, I believe, came out about the same time. Within a couple months, Nirvana was everywhere, and the guy upstairs would play “Smells Like Teen Spirit” on repeat for hours on end, when he wasn’t screwing the guts out of his screamer girlfriend.

Then, Honey and I lived together with Scotty on Pulaski Heights. Best roommate arrangement ever. And then like a dream, I was graduating and it wall all over.

This is me and honey, on the steps of my little house, the day after my graduation party. Oi. My head.

And she moved back to NC. Laura went back to Columbia for law school and then moved to Charlotte. Dana had gone back to NC too, and finished school in Boone. I moved back to Atlanta, and then on to Denver and then back to Atlanta.

Through it all we stayed in touch. Visits, breakups, showers, two brain tumors, weddings, divorces, births and deaths. We are still friends, and we still see each other every year. And I can’t imagine my life without them.

Not sure how I forgot to click publish on this post, back in November, when I spent a weekend with the girls at the farm. Better late than never. I don’t want the Girls to think that it wasn’t heaven. I want them to know how much they mean to me, and how much I love them.

: So, Laura is taking guitar lessons. Very cool.

: Dana’s mom has a hat collection.

: Relaxing on the patio.

: Dana really is the hostess with the mostest.

: We like to make sure and get plenty of Vitamin C.

: How cute are they?

: Me and the girls on the bridge.

: Very cool pedestrian bridge over the river.

: Don’t remember which river this is.

: Beautiful friends on the river.

: Happy, smiley Laura.

: I think that is Table Rock in the distance. Pictures don’t do the view justice.

: It is really hard to have any stress at all, sitting alone in the middle of a field at dusk.

: This old tractor makes me smile. Something about that blue color.

: We had a full moon. Dusk at the farm is my fave.

: When I look at us, I think we all still look 20 years old. Isn’t that funny?

: And much laughter. Good for the soul.

: Evenings spent talking on the patio.

: We get a little goofy. Dana is v. talented, as you can see.

: The view from the patio.

: Mimosas on the patio.

Tags: College, dana, honey, laura, nc, The Farm
Posted in Beauty, College, Friends, Memories, Travel | 2 Comments »

How to Answer a Telephone, & Other Lost Arts

Tuesday, December 21st, 2010

Todd and I both have iPhones. Before that, we both had plain old-fashioned cell phones. When we moved from our house in East Atlanta to our current home, we didn’t even bother plugging in a phone. We have a land line, but we just don’t use it. I have forgotten what it was like to have one.

Well, a few weeks ago, my phone was acting up, and I was working on a project with someone, and we needed to talk, so he asked me for my home phone number. I didn’t even know the number. I vaguely remembered putting it into my phone contacts when we moved in. So, i gave that number to the friend, and then told him to wait about ten minutes while I went to look for a phone.

To plug into a wall.

I had to go find a phone that is ten times the size of my cel phone, and which plugs into a wall jack. And it wasn’t even a cordless phone. It has a cord, tying the talker to within 5-10 feet of the wall jack while on the phone.

Weird. We had our conference call. I sat at the kitchen table while I did, rather than walking around, doing laundry, unloading the dishwasher, walking outside to let the dog out.

I remember the hours on end that my friends, boyfriends, myself spent talking on the phone. I would lie on my bed, or on the floor near the phone jack. I would sit on the desk in my parents’ kitchen, talking on the phone. “Do you like her? Well, she likes you. I think you should ask her to go with you.” Ad nauseum.

I never talked on the phone outside. Or in the car. Or on the bus. Or in the grocery store. Or in the coffee shop.

Oh wait. We didn’t have those either.

Todd and I don’t answer each others’ phones. The kids know not to answer our phones. They have never had the opportunity to yell, “I got it!” or for me to yell, “Answer the phone!” or hear me yell upstairs, the mouthpiece cupped to my breast to muffle the sound of my voice as I raise it over the sound of his stereo (ha!) blaring, “Rollie! Phone!”

So, that was a few weeks ago, and I haven’t used the house phone since. I left it on the wall, though, because it made me laugh. And then I forgot about it.

Until ten minutes ago, when we all heard a ringing. A strange, archaic ringing. The kids ran to the stairs to yell down, “something’s making a noise, Mama!” There might have been a tinge of panic in their little voices.

I said “Where is it coming from?” Because I didn’t recognize it, either.

“From that thing on the wall!” Rollie yelled. “What do i do?”

I laughed as I realized it was the phone on the kitchen wall.

“You answer it!”

Silence.

Rollie: “How?”

Me: “You pick it up and say hello!”

After all of this, of course, he did not make it to the phone in time. Oh well, if they call back, we’ll be ready this time. Armed with the knowledge of outdated phones and their etiquette.

Tags: Telephones, When I was a kid
Posted in Cool Stuff, Home, Humor, Memories, Photography, Rollie | 7 Comments »

Snowsuit Sound

Monday, December 13th, 2010

Snow, even flurries, in Atlanta never fails to remind me of being a kid in Fairport, New York. We lived there for two years when I was in 2nd and 3rd grade.

Seems like I spent all my time in the winter as a kid wearing a snowsuit and boots, sledding in the front yard, or ice skating at Potter Park. (Think that was the name.) When you walk in the snow, dragging a sled behind you by a plastic handle, your snowsuit rubs together and makes a little whicka-whicka-whicka sound. Which is why my favorite Sloan song is “Snowsuit Sound.”

Funny, too, because my kids are just about the same age that Lisa and I were when we lived up there.

Dug up some pics of my snow boots:

(Weird. Just looked at my face, and i think Tiller makes that same face sometimes. I want to lock her in her room when she does it.)

Check out my sister’s bitchin’ snowsuit!

We both had orange sleds. The boy up the hill from her lived next door and I believe someone told me he was a doctor now. He used to make a lot of fart noises and try to poot on me while we watched cartoons. Him being a doctor also explains why he is not on Facebook. Almost no one I know who is a doctor is on Facebook. Or if they are, they are never on it.

Totally bummed I can’t find a picture of my red snowsuit with the bars on the chest. This is me on my sled, though, next to Karen Rapp, who lived two houses up. We played Snoopy together a lot. The taller dark-haired girl was one of my babysitters, Sarah.

Oh, wait! Here we go!

Good stuff. Kind of makes me sad my kids might not get the full day of sledding, or building snow forts, or tapping trees for maple syrup. All very fond memories for me.

Oh, God. Black hole of photos tagged with Fairport on Flickr!

The Wegman’s where we shopped for groceries!

The Mushroom House we used to pass on my way to softball.

Totally cool!

Found those while trying to find a picture of the park where we ice skated. No luck. Guess that’s a sign from God that I should actually get some work done and stop messing around on the Internets.

Tags: childhood, Snow
Posted in Fairport, Friends, Memories | 2 Comments »

20th Reunion: My Personal Horror Show

Tuesday, October 26th, 2010

If you are friends with me on Facebook, you may have noticed a bunch of photographs of me and some other old drunk people. You see, I spent Saturday night at my 20-year high school reunion. It was weird, surreal, fun, sweet, bittersweet, comforting, strange, and hilarious all at once. If i had to describe it, i would say that the only other experience that comes close to this one is maybe my own wedding. To have that many folks that have been a part of your life and of your memories for that long come together in one room, with alcohol, was just really wild.

Todd decided to come to my reunion with me, which was amazing, because i fully expected him to bail on me for the Cam Newton show in Auburn. (And I totally would have understood, and would have ditched him in the same situation.) We got to the hotel just in time for Todd to head to the bar to catch kickoff while I checked us in. Todd came up to me at the desk as I was wrapping up, to help me with the bags, and said, “I just met Josh Wright at the bar. He went to Auburn.” I laughed out loud; I barely knew Josh Wright in high school, but my husband was already hanging out with him at the bar. I sensed right then and there that it would be an interesting night.

This is Jason.

I used to think he was my best friend, but I think he lost out to Camille, since he didn’t come to the reunion with me, and instead chose his “new” college friends over me. No, I don’t even care that he was there to see Ealey rush for 157 yards and 5 touchdowns.

Todd, Camille and I shared a room. Camille’s husband was out of town. We decided to get there early so that we could get checked in, and then go get some food pre-reunion. Otherwise known as “laying a base,” for drinking. You need to have a good foundation, you know. Here is Camille, on Spring Break in 1990:

In between the taking of these photos, we have taken a look at our choices, gotten into a good bit of trouble hanging out with the boys, finished college together (who is that third person? He looks so familiar . . . ):

. . . been in each other’s weddings, and watched each other become mothers. And here is Camille on Saturday, popping her first beer of the afternoon.

So, we met Doug and Steph, Nat and Ryan, Chris and Aimee (his wife, not the Aimee in our graduating class), and Brett and his fiancee, Lucy, for pizza at Diesel. (I have to admit, Roswell has better dining choices than it did back when I was a kid and we used to drive to the McDonald’s there, because Alpharetta didn’t even have one.) We drank beer. Ate pizza. Laughed a lot.

Here are Camille and Nat:

And Steph and Lucy:

Isn’t Lucy cute? We think Brett done real good for himself. And here is the whole gang:

Photo by Chris Rank

After the meal, we headed back to the hotel and the boys went to the bar to watch football, while the girls came back to the room and we changed. There is something so sweet about getting dressed with the girls, and having the pre-event giggles together.

Aimee hung in there like a champ, even though she doesn’t know us all that well, and we are all completely nuts. Big shout out to Priscilla and Charlie for hunting us down and coming down to say hi while we got ready. I should also say here that if I looked at all decent for the reunion or the photos I was in, it was only because I came out of the bathroom thinking I was dressed, then was sent back in to “put on more makeup.” In truth, without Steph and Nat, I would never have put on lipstick at all.

So, after that, we went to Kim Thomas’ room for drinks with The Six Pack.

The Six Pack may or may not know this, but their little self-applied label was both the source and the object of much gnashing of teeth, hurt feelings, anger, and derision back in the day. Seems stupid and funny now, and pre-reunion drinks with you all was one of my favorite parts of the evening. (And not just because we all had freshly-applied makeup, were all sober, and were photographed well by the talented Leigh Helenbrook!)

Pre-reunion drinks with the girls. (And some husbands.) Photo by Betts.

I love this picture of two of my favorite people:

And then we were off to the lobby. On the way down in the elevator, we ran into Tommy Sudderth. He regaled us with the horror story of Camille stabbing him in the knee in first grade. By the time we got off the elevator, we were all almost in tears from laughing so hard.

And man. . . talk about weird. Put on seventy pounds since the last time you saw them, get all dressed up, have a few drinks, and step off an elevator and walk straight into a crowd of people you went to school with from fourth grade to twelfth grade. Very, very strange. It’s like a haunted house or personal horror show, tailored specifically to your own personal phobias and Achilles heels. They might as well run a film on the wall of your most embarrassing moments. Everyone* in the room knows just about everything about you.

People who saw blood on the back of your white pants? There.

Girl whose house you were at when you puked up Buffalos wings and carrot sticks? There.

Guy who called you “Conan,” instead of “Anne?” There.

Girl whose boyfriend you stole and you haven’t talked to her since? There.

Boy you asked to dance at the dance in 8th grade, when you looked like this?

Me in Middle School

The one you imagined must have laughed about it later with his friends? There.

All the girls that were in your tent on the Girls Scout camping trip in 4th grade when you peed in your sleeping bag and then had to lie around until everyone else was up so that you could cover it up and no one would know? I think they were all there. That was a big tent, and I have tried to block that memory from my mind for years.

First love? There.

First boy who asked you “to go with him?” and let you wear his jacket in 4th grade? There.

Girl who whispered “bitch” behind you in the hall? The one you turned around and gave an icy stare, and then later went in the smokers’ bathroom and cried because you felt so bad, because you thought it was a little true? There.

People who witnessed you and others wallowing together at a party after homecoming over (supposedly) broken hearts? There.

Guy that gave you the creeps on the bus? There.

Friend who hooked up with an ex-boyfriend and probably has no idea that you know that she did it? There.

Girl that wrote a note in 9th grade to your close male friend whom she was dating who said she couldn’t believe that you ever “went together?” Yep, she was there.

People who witnessed you get into a girl fight at a party? Yep. There.

The boy you are not sure if you made out with or not at a party because you passed out and don’t remember? Okay, he wasn’t there. Neither were the ones that called you “four tits,” because you were so flat that your ribs stuck out more than your boobs, or the guy that you overheard telling your boyfriend you weren’t as pretty as his ex. But you get the point.

* Names withheld to protect the innocent. Most of you know who you are. All of you please consider yourselves forgiven. Or apologized to, as applies.

And you know what? After the initial shock of it all wore off, it just wasn’t that scary anymore. It was maybe even kinda nice. Maybe.

I saw tons of people that i wasn’t really friends with in high school that I’ve connected with on Facebook, like Stefanie:

I saw people who lived in my n’hood growing up, like Ryan.

I spent a whole summer hanging out with his best friend playing pool and drinking beer in his parents’ basement while my friend made out with him in another room. I also witnessed him breaking his arm tripping over a railroad tie.

Andrea and Michelle:

Andrea dated a friend of mine and I later lived with him in a different state. Michelle? I got drunk in a tent at her house and made out with her brother on a trampoline. Later, she set me up with my first real high school boyfriend. I mean, you can’t make this stuff up.

Got to hang out a lot with Brett, a.k.a. Peter Pan, which was awesome.
Brett in high school:

And Brett now:

We have stayed in touch all these years. Little-known fact: He was my first husband. Senior Marriage Project. Can’t believe how dumb that class is looking back on it now. Brett did all the research and work while Charlie and I made googly eyes at each other. Brett went to Furman, but then he just couldn’t stay away from me, and so he followed me to UGA. He wrote a poem for me when my heart was broken, and I still have it on a shelf in my den. He is engaged now to the beautiful and awesome Lucy.

She did v. well at the reunion, even though she was probably like, “Oh my God, there are so many old folks here.” Lucy and Brett, watch out. I have the date on my calendar and i plan to be there.

Here’s one of me and Todd.

Not that great a picture of me, but how handsome is my husband? He cracked me up. I had about five people come up to me during the reunion and tell me how awesome my husband is. . . . Brent St. Vrain actually said that he likes my husband better than me. No idea how he met all these folks, but it is nice to have a husband I can take to things like this that will fend for himself and not have his feelings hurt when I ditch him.

Here is me with The Punisher.

a.k.a. Priscilla. We had homeroom together, and she did a lot of punishing. I cannot remember why she said “Punish!” so much, or why she called everyone “skank” as an endearment, but I love her. Funny the things we remember and love about people.

And here is Camille, with Tommy, re-enacting the aforementioned First Grade Pencil Stabbing incident.

So funny. Tommy had us rolling on the floor with laughter telling us how he used this as a cautionary tale against brandishing lead pencils with his own children.

Monica, Alain, and Leigh:

I love this picture! Was so glad to see Alain, as i thought he still lived in Spain.

Miriam and Mary!

Miriam has one of the best, most contagious laughs ever. And Mary and I used to talk about horses all the time in elementary school. (Do all girls have another girl that they used to talk about horses with?) We all played volleyball together, along with Camille and Sonya, in high school.

Darby and Camille:

So, I’m not sure why, but Darby was one of the people that I almost burst into tears upon seeing. I am not sure why this is, except that she is one of the funniest and nicest people that i have ever met, and I feel like we are kindred spirits. Darby, it was great to finally hug you in person after having some really meaningful and amazing conversations with you the past year or so. Let’s please not wait another 15 or 20 years before seeing one another again.

Okay. I’m coming out.

This is Nat. I am finally admitting it. I love her. Really truly love her, and she is one of my best friends. Despite the fact that i detested her in high school. And kind of in college, too. She is still a drama queen, vain, and sometimes a bit of a barbie doll. She is also smart, funny, kickass, fun, and one of my favorite people to get drunk with, because like me, frankly, my dear, she doesn’t give a damn. I love ya Nat, slutty skirts, and heels and embarrassing moments and all.
And look, she can actually keep her mouth shut! Photographic evidence!

But never for long. . .

Dave and Stacy:

Stacy told me she thought i was “nice” in high school. Ha! We did not know each other very well. Dave was the Roswell Hornet. He was also my first ever homecoming date. He asked me because he had just gotten dumped and he didn’t have a date. We went in a car with some older friend who could drive. I think we were in tenth grade and couldn’t drive yet? I remember the fear of popping open beers in the backseat of that kids’ car – It was maybe mustard yellow and a gremlin or something like that? – And what would my mom say about drinking and driving? And yet we did it anyway. (Frightening to think of now, as a parent.) We had the photo taken and then went and climbed through a window into Lon Feldman’s basement and drank beer until my curfew. I didn’t really like the taste of beer back then. (As you can see, i got over it.) I wore the famous champagne pink shiny flammable dress when I climbed through that basement window:

Yep, my impeccable deportment began at a tender young age.

Camille, Nat, Brett and me:

This one just makes me laugh. Natalie being Natalie, Camille and I laughing at it, and Brett barely tolerating us.

Miriam and Melissa!

So, they finally shut us down, and everyone stumbled downhill to Tony’s. That place has been there forever, and hasn’t really aged all that well, but by that point, we were past caring.

Rob and Doug!

Nat and Charlie!

Could have knocked me over with a feather that Charlie showed up, as he is not on Facebook, so it’s like he doesn’t. even. exist. It was great seeing him, though, and I’m glad he showed. All the way from Connecticut. Unlike some people. . .

I think my very sober little group stayed until after last call, then decided to hit Krystal on the walk back.

And then we realized that they wouldn’t let us walk through the drive-thru (evidently, my husband is v. persuasive, though, and managed to do just that), so we had to walk up Holcomb Bridge Rd., at three a.m., dodging traffic to go across the street to The Waffle House. Yes, that Waffle House. The one we all used to go to back in the day. Except that I think they razed the original building and built a new one on the same spot. Either that, or I was way more drunk than I thought i was, because it looked very different, down to being oriented differently on the property than I remembered it being, but still, all late night roads lead to Waffle House.

And then we all got tired. And had to walk back. Up that damn hill. Then we made faux Prom pictures under the arch of green, white, and black (Go Hornets?) balloons that were still in the hotel lobby. (Not suitable for public consumption.)

Did I mention that it was a sad event, too? Yes. Sad that the following folks broke our hearts:

Jason Billips

Becky Duffy

Jennifer Durkee (and Jerry!)

Kevin Fagan

Jenni Hoglund

Owen Kinney

Matt Long

Mike Maier

Stacy McBrayer

Randy Neel

Scott Phillips

John Sabol

Casey Schaeffer

Alicia Bruner, Carrie Winter! Somehow you escaped my camera all of those years – an amazing feat. And with the reunion, you have foiled me again! The rest of you, consider yourselves lucky that I didn’t post some of the other pictures.

You all suck for taking just a little bit of joy away from those who wanted to see you. (Anyone I left out? I bet there are more of you, but I can’t remember off the top of my head.) You are all a huge chunk of my childhood, middle school, and high school memories, and the evening felt incomplete without you there. Also, you missed a damn good time.

To those of you who attended, I love you all. Each and every one of you. I’m just sorry I didn’t get a chance to sit down and have a good chat with every single person there.

My High School Photos and the remainder of my reunion photos on my Flickr page.

Oh, and one last thing: I can’t tell you how truly touched I was by the number of people who went out of their way to tell me that they read my blog regularly and like it. I was a bit floored by that one, as I had no idea, since none of you actually subscribe to my feed. (Shameless self-promotion.)
Here I was, thinking that I was writing in a veritable vacuum!

You all posed a bit of a dilemma for me when I sat down to write this. Do I write it completely honestly, as if no one was reading it, the way I have always written it? Do I write it without thinking about who I am writing for, or who will read it? Or do i pull the punch?

I guess y’all can see which one I’ve chosen. Hopefully, no one will be freaked out or embarrassed by reading about themselves on here. I made every effort to leave out anything incriminating (and boy did i have some incriminating evidence!) And if you are a little freaked out, or embarrassed, you need to get a backbone and a sense of humor!

Just kidding. Just read back through my litany of embarrassing moments earlier in the post and you will feel much better about yourself. Plus, you are in the company of friends, and we all know everything about your personal horror show already!

Please, please, please take care of all yourselves and your loved ones until we meet again.

xoxo
Dogwood Girl

Tags: 20th High School Reunion, High School, RHS
Posted in Friends, Memories, Mushy, Roswell | 28 Comments »

Seven

Friday, August 27th, 2010

My baby is seven today. SEVEN. When you were six, I could still think, I have babies. The baby is gone now. I look at you now, and remember what you were like as a baby, a toddler, a preschooler.

But he is seven now, and seven is no longer baby.

This has been a good year. You started Kindergarten this time last year:

and now you are in First grade. What a difference a year makes!

You are still in the Magnet class and it is fun to see you with your friends. You started riding the bus last year and you still like the bus. Daddy drops you off in the mornings, though, because it means that we get a little more time together before you go off to school and he heads to work. I get you from the bus stop in the afternoons, and you are usually a little grumpy with me. I guess you are tired and hot (it is still August and buses don’t have AC). You did great in Kindergarten, really progressing with your reading now. You still read with Tiller and Daddy before bed, but you also read chapter books after you go to bed, and we are worrying you don’t get enough sleep because of it. You are currently reading, “The Guardians of Ga’Hoole” with Daddy and Tiller, and on your own, you are reading “The Magician’s Nephew.” Just last night, you argued with me about whether you can read “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe” first, and then go back and read book one (Magician’s Nephew), or whether you are supposed to read One first. I say you can do it either way. Not you. You like order and in an orderly world, you read One first, then move on to Two. Hopefully, some day you can forgive me for making you read Two first.

You and Tiller got razors for Christmas and you ride them around in the garage for an hour at a time. You don’t get sick and you don’t fall and get hurt. (Knock on wood.) Speaking of, we haven’t had any ER visits or really any sickness in a year. You and Tiller both missed a week of school last year because you had a puke once then have a fever for a week virus. But they weren’t bad and it just made you snuggly.

You don’t have too much time for snuggling this year, but occasionally, you will slow down and cuddle on the couch in your pjs with me or daddy. I realize now that they are dwindling that those moments will be fewer and further between. I try to cherish those moments.

You lost some teeth this year! The first two you lost at school and they just sent them home in a plastic baggie with your name written on them in sharpie. I felt a little gypped. But then your tooth got loose when Cousin Luci and Uncle Wade were visiting and you wanted me to pull it, and we made Daddy and Wade squirm while we stood in the kitchen, wiggling the tooth back and forth, wiping the blood with a paper towel and finally making it crack! and come out. You are not scared of the tooth fairy like Aunt Lisa was when we were little.

This was the year you ate all the chocolate out of the Advent Calendar. I know one day it will be funny, but right now it is still too soon. And the year you cut a chunk right out of the front of your hair. And the year that you got a mohawk. Three times.

I am amazed at all of the things you did this year. You played t-ball last fall and this past spring. You are a natural – always raring to go play, and really pretty good. Watching you out on the field, doing celebratory dances when you make a play, is like pure joy for me. I try to be modest, but i just about burst with pride at how you excel. You are about to start soccer this fall, again, and I hope you like it as much.

You learned how to ride a bike this year, and how to swim. You could swim before, but suddenly, you were going underwater and swimming the length of the pool and you even had your first year on Swim Team this summer. (Go Stingrays!) The competitive Mom in me had to wrestle with not pushing you, and letting you do things your way, even though I knew there were pointers I could give you that would help you improve. You finally listened a little bit and really improved your time, and then you spent the rest of the summer asking me to give you “some more pointers.” It was pretty cute, and I liked that you asked me, because usually, you want to do everything yourself, and don’t want anyone to tell you how to do it.

You also learned to go off the diving board! I can’t even tell you how terrified i was when you and Tiller and Daddy came home saying you both knew how to go off the diving board. And sure enough, we would go to the pool and you and your friends would jump off the diving board, over and over for hours on end. And then we would go home and you would say you didn’t feel good, but i knew it was just that you were completely waterlogged.

You have reached the point where you can sit and watch a whole baseball game (in person or on tv) and I am very much looking forward to watching some football with you this fall. You have learned the rules and can have a great conversation about it, and I never realized how satisfying it could be to have those discussions with you.

Just about a month ago, i let you drive the JetSki (with me right behind you) at the Lake. I had the kill switch, but I pulled over in a huge cove, far away from the shore or docks, and I let you sit in front of me, and taught you a little about how to drive it. Then I said, do you want to try? And you were excited. I was prepared for you to hit the gas too hard even though I warned you not to, so I wouldn’t get thrown off, but I don’t think you were prepared for it, and it scared you. You didn’t want to try and drive anymore, and I think it was a good lesson. Riding with you kids is one of my favorite things to do. We drive around to some usual spots, usually in the morning, before there are many folks out on the lake and you are learning your way around. You know the usual spots: Bulldog, Aerie, The Warm Water, Rooty Creek, Crooked Creek, and Goat Island. I ask where you want to go and you almost always want to go to Goat Island. It’s kind of “our place.” At the end of our rides, I always head back towards the house, and I make you tell me how to get there. When we get back near the cove, I ask if you want to do some circles, and you always say yes, and then I ride us in circles until we’re a little dizzy and you are just on the very verge of being scared. Each time, we go a little harder and faster. And this summer, we started taking you and Tiller out on the tube (nice and slow). The first time, we went out, and you were the guinea pig (except you kept calling it being the Hamster) and Foley rode as spotter. After that, I started teaching you and Tiller to be spotters for each other, and that has worked well. Maybe next year we’ll try skis.

You talk back a bit now, and you fight with us, and you probably are a little too addicted to video games. You definitely have your own ideas about how you want to do things, and you and I get into some arguments, but I am so very proud of the smart, funny, laughing, passionate boy you are. I love your eagerness, and your gap-toothed smile, and the way you drag your feet when you walk up the hill from the bus stop. I know you can’t stay my baby forever, that I have to work hard to make you a wonderful young man, to teach you respect and pride and the value of an education and courtesy, but I understand now why Mom and Dad still say I’ll always be their first baby.

You will always be my first baby. The baby with the skin that tans easily and the big brown eyes that just make me melt and the thick, wavy brown hair that always reminds me so much of my own, and of my Dad’s, and of the inexplicable ways that we are all three so similar, just a little line of stitches marching down the hem of time. Pop, Daddy, Me, You.

You. My baby. Always.

You in the last year.

And you this morning, on your seventh birthday.

Tags: Birthdays, Seven
Posted in Family, Life, Memories, Mushy, Parenthood, Rollie | 5 Comments »

A Tale of Two Sisters in Overalls, Part III

Tuesday, August 10th, 2010

Continued from A Tale of Two Sisters in Overalls, Part II. . .

I got a flat north of Nashville. So, when my tire blew out, and my sister was right in front of me, she didn’t happen to see me swerve across three lanes of traffic and into the emergency lane. She just looked in the rear view mirror and I was nowhere to be found, and thought, “uh-oh.” And then got off at the next exit, turned back around and went north on 75, and drove until she saw me broken down on the southbound side, then found the next exit, and got back on 75 South, and drove until she found me. Because we didn’t have cel phones. i swear to God, it was like living in the dark ages; we are lucky to have survived.

I was just sitting on the back bumper of the truck, because I’d already inspected the blowout. When you are driving from Colorado, getting a flat in Nashville is like getting a flat in your neighborhood. You are so close, and yet so far. You are so tired. You so don’t want to fucking change a tire. Which is good, because it turns out, even if you did, there are no spare tires on Ryder trucks. You have to call Ryder.

So, i sat there, and waited for Lisa to find me, and then told her what was up, and then sent her to the next exit to get drinks and call for help. I sat there a really long time. It was August 2, sitting on the side of 75 southbound, just north of Nashville. It was, to put it lightly, hot as fucking Hades.

Lisa came back. She said it would probably be a couple of hours. Have you ever sat on the side of 75 South in the midday sun for a couple of hours? It is horrific. We plowed through our snacks. The seats of the truck were like molten lava. Lisa was grumpy and sitting in the only shady spot in the truck. She is not a lover of the heat.

Me? I was trying to keep it fun. I had on red overalls. Nothing says fun like red overalls. I got a piece of dried grass and made Hee Haw jokes and tried to make Leelee laugh.

It didn’t work.

The sun was high up in the sky. There were almost no shadows. We sat on the back bumper of the truck, because it was the only way we could get some shade. I sat closest to the road, and Lisa sat right next to the edge closest to the grass on the side of the road. We didn’t talk. We watched cars fly by. Each one gave us a hot breeze, and the ones closest to us rocked the van. Some of them honked. Lisa and I sat in a daze, until a red jeep with three boys was coming towards us. There was something shouted, and then I heard and felt a loud, “thunk!” when something hit the van. Lisa immediately let out an “uuugggghhh!”

I looked over at her, and she had something yellow on her face and in her hair. She burst into tears. And, God help me. I’m not proud of it.

I laughed.

Those Nashville fuckers had thrown a half-eaten piece of corn on the cob at us. The kind you get from KFC.

They didn’t just toss it either, as evidenced by the splat on the truck, directly over Lisa’s head.

They winged that thing.

We sat for almost another hour until the guy came to fix the tire.

We finally got back on the road. We would have made it home before dark. Instead, we made it home in the middle of the night. And the next morning, I was ready for my new (old) life.

And yeah, really just posted that last one to show that I had on cutoffs. Something else that I never wear anymore, although i would if I was skinny.

In my new life, I would move into an apartment with my sister, and I would meet my future husband in an East Atlanta bar, and move in with him, and get a couple of cats and a dog and drink a lot, and then end up with two kids and a minivan in the burbs, wondering how the hell that happened.

And none of it would have happened if it wasn’t for the red overalls. I’m sure of it.

Tags: Busted Flat in Nashville, Corn Splat, Nashville, Overalls, Sisters
Posted in Atlanta, East Atlanta, Fashion, Home, Humor, Lisa, Memories | 7 Comments »

A Tale of Two Sisters in Overalls, Part II

Monday, August 9th, 2010

Continued from A Tale of Two Sisters in Overalls, Part I . . .

Have you ever been to East St. Louis? I hadn’t either. First of all, it’s not in St. Louis, which is in Missouri. (I smart.) It’s in Illinois. I am so serious. (You know you didn’t know that either.) Secondly, all you really need to know about East St. Louis to get the picture is that on Wikipedia, it has the following subheading under East St. Louis:
“East St. Louis In Popular Culture,” and under that, a subheading for “East St. Louis in Film,” and under that, you find this:

In the 1981 science fiction/action film Escape from New York, director John Carpenter used East St. Louis to represent a decaying, semi-destroyed future version of New York City. At that time, East St. Louis had entire neighborhoods burned out in 1976 during a massive urban fire, which suited the director’s vision of a Manhattan Island that has been turned into a maximum security prison.
In the 1983 comedy National Lampoon’s Vacation, The Griswolds were thought to accidentally drive through East St. Louis and get their car stripped while asking for directions . . . .

There’s also a lengthy section on its severe crime, which ranks it as having a higher murder rate than Compton, CA.

I think you get the picture. Let’s move on, shall we?

So, we’re in Illinois the next day. I swear, you drive through Illinois to get to Denver from Atlanta, and no, children, we didn’t even have any Illinoise! to listen to back then. So, we’re in Illinois and the sparks start again, and this godawful metal on metal sound, and I see an exit, and I pull of at that exit and Lisa is following me and I pull over at the closest gas-station-looking parking lot I can see, and i gotta tell ya, nothing looks open in East St. Louis in 1998. It just looked broken down and empty. And then there’s this nagging feeling that maybe East St. Louis is famous? But I can’t remember why.

I pull over and I get out, and Leelee pulls up next to me. We both look under the truck. I am smarter than she is, though, because I didn’t let her have the camera while i was up under the truck.

Then I get busted with the camera.

The truly funny thing about these pictures is that if you knew Lisa then, back when we called her Princess? She never woulda been caught dead under a Ryder truck in East St. Louis, Illinois.

Now, right about that point, Lisa started trying to find information about calling Ryder again, because the muffler baling wire fix was not working so well anymore. Here she is looking at the map, or the paperwork, or something.

It was about this time that we also realized that there was no earpiece on the payphone at the deserted gas station. There was just a nice shell of a payphone.

So, I crawled back under the truck, hell bent on getting the thing wired and getting out of that parking lot. That’s when I heard the car. I rolled back out from under the car, and there are Lisa and I, standing next to a Ryder truck, and this old 70s car, but rebuilt, with fancy rims and all that, rolls up with two guys in it, and a nice gentleman with gold teeth and a shitload of gold jewelry leans out the window, and no, i am not kidding. And this is what he says, looking us up and down, and nodding his head real slow, these immortal words that I can still hear to this very day, uttered very slow and cool:

“Where’s y’all’s boyfriends at?”

Where’s. Y’all’s. Boyfriends. At.

I still use this phrase just about weekly, when calling my sister and getting her voicemail. I simply say, “Where’s y’all’s boyfriends at?” and she knows it’s me. Now, the truly funny thing about this is that Lisa is wearing a too-big hippie-looking Colorado t-shirt, and cutoff duckheads. (See previous picture.) And me? I’m wearing red overalls. With Doc Martens. And braids. But we’ll get to that later. We look real good. I am surprised he thought we even liked boys. Suffice it to say that I am surprised he didn’t just go ahead and shoot us for looking ugly.

And what did I say to him? Just what is the proper response to such a well-turned come-on? Well, it was hot, and I was tired and hungry. This is what my big mouth said:

“Just leave us the fuck alone! What the fuck?! Can’t you see we’re having car trouble?!”

And now, now you know who is the OG.

And he, obviously impressed with my street cred, said, “Okay,” and nodded, and turned up his music, and drove off. I know. The story would have been much better if he had gotten out and said, “Here, Let me help you ma’am” and fixed my damn muffler. But it didn’t happen that way. Instead, I crawled under, and tried the baling wire thing, and then climbed back out and ate leftover, cold pizza from the night before, sitting in a post-apocalyptic-movie set parking lot in East St. Louis.

And we made it all the way to Nashville before we had any more problems. But the boys in Nashville? They were not as nice.

Continued in A Tale of Two Sisters in Overalls, Part III.

Tags: Car Trouble, East St. Louis, Gangsters, Overalls, Where's Y'all's Boyfriends At?
Posted in Fashion, Humor, Lisa, Memories | 10 Comments »

A Tale of Two Sisters in Overalls

Sunday, August 8th, 2010

It was the summer of 1998. I can still remember it like it was yesterday, even though it was pre-Todd, pre-Rollie and Tiller, Pre-Quint and Simon, and Scully. Hard to imagine that now.

My sister was my best friend. No one else even came close, except maybe that boy. We were parting ways. He was off to Phoenix. It was an amicable parting, but i think I knew it was over forever. I’m not sure he knew yet. I was headed back to Atlanta, back to the South, back Home. The open road was like the first sheet in a blank book just waiting to be written.

I had me a Ryder truck, and a sister who agreed to follow me, driving my car back. It was the same car that I had in Atlanta the day I crapped in my pants on the connector, caught in the worst traffic jam ever, and just having left Three Dollar Cafe. It wasn’t pretty.

But that is a story for another day.

We left Denver on a sunny, hot, dry day. It was July 31st. We broke down later that day in Victoria, Kansas. You are probably thinking, “they didn’t get very far” and if you are thinking that, then you have never driven across Kansas, because Kansas is a never ending Son of a bitch.

Lisa flagged me down, driving the Acura, and waving frantically. This was in the olden days, when people didn’t have cel phones, unless they were selling drugs, and I didn’t even know what I was missing. I know that is hard to imagine, what with me having my iPhone surgically attached to my hand and all. If I were to do that drive today, without my phone, it would feel just like walking across Kansas naked.

I pulled over at the next stop. Which looked just like the last stop and every other one in Kansas, too. I pulled up next to Lisa and probably said something along the lines of “What the fuck?”

And she probably said something along the lines of, “There are fucking flames coming out from under your truck!”

Okay, they were just sparks. We had a muffler. It wouldn’t stay attached to the fucking truck. I didn’t know it was the muffler until we got down on our stomachs at a truck stop in Kansas and looked under and saw this round tubular thing hanging down.

So, we found the number for Ryder, and we found the payphone, the one around the corner, against the cinder block building wall, in the baking heat. We were on hold forfuckingever.

Lisa on Hold with Ryder.

This is what she looked like when I first handed off the phone after I had been on hold so long that my ear had fallen asleep. I went and got the camera out of boredom. And this is what she looked like another thirty minutes later:

And yes, yes she is wearing overalls. I'm getting to that.

So, when we finally got a hold of Ryder on the FUCKING PAYPHONE, we told them we had a problem with our sparky tubular metal thing under the truck. And they said, “ma’am, you got yourself a muffler problem,” and we said, “Right, the muffler. Isn’t that what I just said? Great, how soon can you be here to fix it?” And he said, “Where are you?” and we said, “Kansas.”

Silence.

“Uh, where in Kansas?”

Lisa runs in the gas station to figure out where the fuck in Kansas we are.

“We’re in Victoria, Kansas.”

Silence. Then, “Well, we can get someone out to Victoria tomorrow.”

I look around me in dismay, because this is what it looks like where we are.

View from Gas Station, Victoria, KS. July 31st, 1998

“Um, okay,” i say, “so, what would you do if you had a muffler problem like this and y’all couldn’t get here til tomorrow?”
“Well, Ma’am, I’d find some baling wire and tie it back up.”
And that’s what we did.

We walked around a gas station in Victoria, KS, begging a piece of bailing wire from men in trucks. Turns out it’s not that hard to find baling wire in Kansas. And then I got my ass down on the hot pavement, and climbed under that truck, just like the T-Birds in Grease, and I used that wire and I tied that muffler to the truck so tight it was never gonna come off!

At least, not until East St. Louis.

To be continued, in A Tale of Two Sisters in Overalls, Part II.

Tags: 90s Fashion, Homesick, Kansas, Overalls, Road Trip, Sisters
Posted in Denver, Family, Humor, Life, Lisa, Memories, Travel | 9 Comments »

We Don’t Smell Other People’s Bottoms

Thursday, July 8th, 2010

I overhear Rollie telling Tiller “Smell my finger.”

Having been friends with more boys than girls along the way, all sorts of alarms went off in my head, backed by a “Master of Puppets” soundtrack. (‘m looking at you. You know who you are. Coming out of your girlfriend’s house, when you went in to “see what was taking her so long” when we picked her up on the way to school, and then making me smell your finger? Some scars never go away.)

“Rollie,” I said. “Come here.”

Rollie rolls his eyes (remind me again why I’m not allowed to slap his face?) and comes to stand in front of me.

“Why did you ask Tiller to smell your finger?”

“I didn’t.” [You little liar.]

“Yes, you did. I just heard you. Why?”

“I don’t remember.”

[I’m staring at him and he is staring back at me, rebelliously unblinking and wide-eyed.]

“Why did you say it?”

“Oh, never mind!” He walks away.

“Get back here.” [Try to control voice so it is not a yell.] “I say when we are done. Why did you ask her to smell your finger?”

[Comes back and stares at me.]

“Why? We can stand here all day until you tell me.”

“Because it’s stinky.”

“Why is it stinky?”

“Because i wiped it on my bottom.”

What. The. Fuck.

Is this normal older brother behavior? Am I raising a psychopath?

He got sent to the bathroom to wash his hands and then to his room. I asked Tiller, “Has your brother made you smell his finger before?”

She thinks, eyes on the ceiling.

“No. But he did ask me to smell his bottom one time. I said ‘No.'”

“Good girl. We don’t smell other people’s bottoms.”

Parenting is sometimes completely absurd. It never occurred to me to teach my kids that we don’t smell other people’s bottoms. But it is a lesson they need to know. Sometimes you end up hearing yourself actually saying words like, “We don’t smell other people’s bottoms.” You think, “what the hell has become of me?”

Parenting is fucking hard.

Tags: Life Lessons, Parenting is Fucking Hard
Posted in Family, Home, Humor, Life, Memories, Parenthood, Rollie, Tiller | 7 Comments »

Dogwood Girl