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Archive for the ‘Memories’ Category

R.I.P. John Hughes

Friday, August 7th, 2009

Not much to say that hasn’t already been said all over the internet. But this guy really got what it was like to be a teenager, and he made all the horrible stuff that goes along with the teen years seem interesting, and funny, and like it was normal. He got us.

If you haven’t read it, this is pretty sweet, a blog post about a girl who exchanged letters with John Hughes for a couple of years.

I’m off to the lake for the weekend, but I could see myself watching a John Hughes film or two this weekend.

Roiling the Waters

Friday, July 31st, 2009

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

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

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

Beater: A Creepy Childhood Memory

Tuesday, July 28th, 2009

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beater.

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

Pop

Saturday, July 11th, 2009

Pop

Pop had photos of him and Grandma made and then, if you look closely, you can see where he signed his “Love, Walter.”

Possibly Not the Domestic Goddess

Friday, June 5th, 2009

. . . that I think I am.

I was cooking dinner last night (ahem, mac and cheese) and was boiling the macaroni, when the pot boiled over. (Or, “balled” over, as my Daddy with his Savannah accent would say. He also says “aygs” for eggs, “all” for oil, and “tin fall” for tin foil.) Tiller was in the kitchen with me and as the pot boiled over, she looked at me, shaking her head as if in disgust, and said, “That always happens.”

Night before last, our babysitter Rebecca got to the house, and I was dressed and saying good night to Tiller. She hugged me then pulled back to study my face, as if seeing me for the first time.
“Mama, what’s wrong with your eyes?”
“Um, that’s makeup baby.”

She keeps me honest, that one. No thinking i am a beautiful domestic Goddess with her around.

Chattanooga, Friday

Saturday, May 9th, 2009

We’re in Chattanooga. Mom, Lisa and I drove up yesterday afternoon. The drive up was uneventful, except for a portion near Dalton where we got the giggles over stories of things we have done or said while sleeping. The one that really got us was Todd’s nightmare about the ghost, where I awoke to him moaning. I thought he was dying. He was trying to scream in a nightmare. This also happened to me when camping with Scott Phillips one time; he dreamed a bear was attacking the tent. I awoke in the same tent to him thrashing around and screaming like a baby. I thought we were goners. There was also the time that Rollie was a newborn and Todd and I were sleep-deprived. I woke up to Todd sitting on the side of the bed, rocking the baby. I sat up, because it seemed weird. I looked down. No baby. He was half-awake, half dreaming that he had gotten up with Rollie and was rocking him. It was so freakin’ creepy. Now those stories make me laugh.

What doesn’t make me laugh? This. Talk about me having nightmares. . . .

I digress.

So, we got to Chattanooga, and checked in at The Read House. I Pricelined it, so there was a smidge of a chance that we would get a King instead of two doubles, which would have been . . . cozy. We lucked out. It’s pretty beautiful, and just reminds me of stories my mom and grandma told me growing up about dances and parties and events there. Mom was genuinely excited about coming home to Chattanooga and i could tell she was really excited about staying here, which made me feel good.

Lisa and i got settled in and Mom went out on her own to look around. Then lisa and i decided we needed a drink. We started walking and came across this church. We recognized it as the church my parents were married in:

St. Paul's Episcopal

St. Paul's

St. Paul's

St. Paul's

St. Paul's

St. Paul's Window

Remission of Sins

I call this "Marriage as Prison."

So, then we walked down Broad Street and found Big River. They had beer. I like beer.

Lisa at Big River

Mom and Lisa

After dinner, we walked a ways, then took the shuttle. I shot this one of The Bijou Theater.
The Bijou

We made a little of a ruckus in the hallway at The Read House, too.
Lisa Gets Frisky

Mama and Lisa are Wild

Wilder

Wildest

And then we were in bed by 10:30, because we are old as hell.

Just Like Kids Again

Monday, March 16th, 2009

When I was a little girl, I used to go visit my Grandma Smith in the summers. She lived in an apartment complex in Chattanooga, Tenn. Mom grew up in Chattanooga. Mom would pack me and my sister up in the red Caprice Classic station wagon and we would go spend a few days with Grandma. This was the most fun ever for my sister and I, as everyone knows that Chattanooga is the epicenter for kitschy tourist traps found on those pamphlets in motel lobbys, Howard Johnsons, and rest areas.

We would go to Rock City, ride the incline, and get candy from the candy shop at the top of the incline. See, we had the hookup, because Grandma’s best friend worked at the candy shop. Fudge and rock candy. Ahhhh. In the afternoons, we would swim at the apartment pool, while mom or Grandma and Aunt Dot watched us. Grandma and Aunt Dot did their laundry in the laundry room in a room right off the pool area while we swam. This is also, I assume, where they kept the liquor. Now, i don’t want to question my mother’s parenting, but she would let grandma watch us swim. I never ONCE saw Grandma swim in the pool. I assume she could swim, but have my doubts as to whether she could retrieve either me or my sister from the bottom of the pool if necessary, especially without putting down her drink or getting her cigarettes wet.

My favorite thing to do, though, (other than go to the castle, which was a toy store near Grandma’s, with a castle facade and an awesome board that counted down the days until Christmas, and where I would buy a Breyer horse every time we visited) was go to Lake Winnepesauka.

Lake Winnie is awesome, even though they have a really shitty website. It is an old school amusement park, and has been open since 1925 and is still run by the grandchildren of the original owners. It is pretty much a family tradition now, as my grandparents, my mom, and me and Lisa all grew up going to Lake Winnie. I have not taken the kids there yet, but can’t wait to do so.

It has a pretty famous old wooden roller coaster, the Cannonball. It has my faves the Himilaya and the Tilt-A-Whirl. It has Leelee’s fave, The Scrambler. A boat chute. An awesome merry-go-round (that was originally at Lakewood fairgrounds in Atlanta). A great haunted house fun house, skeeball, all set around a lake (that I believe used to be a swimming pool before my time) filled with the biggest damn carp ever. Paddleboats. It is very old-school, and family-oriented. I heart Lake Winnie. I cannot wait to take the next generation there. I think Dash needs a couple years and he will be ready to party with us, too.

So, all of this is to say that we took the kids to one of those temporary carnivals at a nearby mall. OH. MY. GOD. Most fun i have had in years. It was pretty awesome to see so many of my neighbors there, and kids from Rollie and Tiller’s schools. Met my sister, BIL, and nephew, Dash there, too. Dash was unimpressed by the rides, but did like the lights and the music from the Himalaya.

Dash finds carnies fascinating.

Dash finds carnies fascinating.


Lisa loves the Ferris Wheel, so she rode with my kiddos, which is great, because those things make me really nervous. Sure, it made me nervous to see my babies riding, too, but common sense tells me that they will be fine, and I should stay on the ground and try to smile. I am pretty sure that if I was up there, my fear of heights would kick in and i would have a panic attack and they would have to pry me out with a crowbar, because my fingernails would be embedded in the ride. The children would be traumatized and need years of therapy. Plus, if you stay on the ground, you can eat cotton candy and hold the baby, and what is better than smelling a baby’s head while eating spun sugar? Not one damn thing.
Tiller fearlessly rides the Ferris Wheel with Aunt Lisa.

Tiller fearlessly rides the Ferris Wheel with Aunt Lisa.

Rollie rode the big slide thing with one of the twins from down the street (Sydney, I believe).

Rollie and Syd Slide

Rollie and Syd Slide

Tiller was too scared to ride it, so she went with the teacups. A classic choice. She rode with the twins, Leah and Sydney, and loved it. When their cup went by the carny, he would reach down and give them a huge spin, eliciting screams and laughter, along with a slight chance of whiplash. I have seldom been happier in my life than standing by my friends Lauren and Scott at near sunset, watching our little girls smile the widest smiles and scream the screams that only happy little girls can emit, all the while holding my nephew, who was mesmerized by the lights and sounds.

Tiller rides the teacups with the big girls.

Tiller rides the teacups with the big girls.

Money’s tight, so Todd and I picked a couple rides we wanted particularly to ride, and left the rest to the kids. When I say the kids, I really mean me, because I would have pitched the biggest fit ever if I couldn’t ride both the Tilt-a-Whirl and the Himalaya. Rollie was very brave and rode the Tilt-A-Whirl with me. I have to admit that I choked up a bit getting up there, navigating the metal platform to pick out a car with my son in hand. He was so brave! We climbed in, and all i could think of was what it was like to ride the Tilt-a-Whirl with my mom at Lake Winnie. I think I remember Lisa going one time, but now it makes her sick. (Or so she says.) There is something so cozy about leaning back with your arm around your kid and then when the ride starts, screaming your guts out and hoping he won’t puke on you. We actually rode with another kid, a little girl who had never ridden it before, about Rollie’s age, who was going to ride alone. (Her wussy mom was over there to the side with my wussy sister.) I sat in the middle and put an arm around each kid and we just laughed when we were going slow, catching our breath, and screamed when we went fast. I had forgotten that when you are little, it actually looks like you are going to run into the other cars whirling around, but Rollie and the little girl kept saying, “We almost ran into that one!” And that thing spins a lot harder than I remembered. I am sure it had nothing to do with the fact that i weigh sixty pounds more than last time I rode it. Nothing at all to do with that.

Lisa and I saved the best for last: The Himalaya. Lisa decided she would be scared and nervous to ride it. Just like the old days! I sat on the outside, so I wouldn’t crush her. We had a discussion about how the one at Lake Winnie must be bigger. Mom and Lisa and I used to all ride together. No way that we would all have fit into this new one. Again, had nothing to do with the fact that we were under ten last time we rode it. Nothing at all to do with that. Mark took pictures of us nervously waiting for it to start. Tiller and Rollie looked on with Daddy from the side, and danced to the music. Again, I felt a wave of emotion, hearing the loud music blaring and the siren going off when they hit top speed. You know how I love Kid Rock! They still play all the hits (Hey Ya!, Hot in Heerrre! Lisa, Todd? What else did they play?), but i am pretty sure they would make more money off us old fogies if they would play some Def Leppard, Van Halen, etc. I am pretty sure that the best job ever goes to the carny who gets to play DJ on the Himalaya. I mean, that, that is a job. Every time we went around, I waved at the kids, which is easy to do when your hands are in the air the whole time. Lisa had the bar in a death grip, all the while laughing maniacally. We screamed, and laughed our asses off, and discussed how we should just leave the kids and run away with the carnies.

Back on the Himalaya

Back on the Himalaya


Seriously, the most fun i have had in ages. Highly recommended for those stuck in a rut.

Can’t believe I haven’t updated in a week. Poor neglected blog.

Carnie Love Affair

Sunday, March 8th, 2009

Dogwood Girl is not here. She renewed a love affair born early, a love of Tilt-A-Whirl stomach lurches, and Van Halen Himalaya rides. She and LouLou La Loush ditched their husbands and children and ran away with the carnival. They are carnies, now. They ride the Himalaya every night. They ride like the wind.

Sitting On the Edge Of My Future

Monday, February 23rd, 2009

I am pretty sure that Facebook is slowly eating my blog. . . .

However, here I am. I have been scanning more old photos, and came across a great set of pics from college.

college_0010

They are mostly from my college graduation. Here is the whole set on Flickr.

A few things that initially struck me about these:
I hated my hair.
We all smoked too much.
I was a stick, but i remember thinking i was fat.
Who, and i mean WHO, let me wear that ugly blue striped dress?
Girls wore a lot of long floral dresses back then.

The day of graduation is really fuzzy to me. I think Scott and I met some guy at the guy’s apartment for pre-grad festivities, which may have involved mimosas. It was nice and sunny. I have lost a great picture of me, Scott, and Katie sitting in the stadium. I loved it, and I cannot find that one. We all look very “The Future’s so Bright, We gotta Wear Shades” and i have lost it.

Some of the pictures are from post-graduation, waiting in traffic with my mom, dad, and sister. We were parked right across from Stedman (?), right near the dorms where I lived as a Freshman. (Give it up for Church!) Again, we smoked too much (except for Lisa, who never did.) I love that mom and dad look more proud of me graduating than i look. Now that i have children of my own, i can understand this.

The other pictures are from a graduation party that night at Scott and Zach’s house. I like that many of the folks in these pictures are still really good friends of mine.

The party itself is all a blur, but i know my family was there, which is strange. Honey came into town just to go to my graduation party (she had already graduated) and I love her for stuff like that. Later in the night, there were a lot of people up on the roof. Zach was my boyfriend at the time, and I made out with a completely different guy on the roof. Classy, i know. I still feel sick admitting that, but i guess maybe there is a ten year statute of limitations on cheating-on-your-boyfriend-on-his-own-roof-while-he-is-home-and-throwing-a-party-for-you situations*.

And this is me the next day:
college_0068
It is me, with Honey’s boyfriend at the time, Luka, in front of my house off Milledge. I loved those red-tinted glasses i am wearing. I still have those Doc Martens and still wear them sometimes. I loved that little house. I was v. hung over in that picture, and my whole future loomed in front of me. I remember everything at that time seeming bigger than life.

It was like sitting on that front stoop on the day I moved away from Athens was just like sitting on the edge of my future.

*Please don’t hate me.

For the Love of a Monkey Pie

Tuesday, February 17th, 2009

So, Todd and I listen to a lot of music in the car, and after a while, the kids will pick out songs that they really like. Remember when you were a kid, and you had a “phonograph” (at least, that’s what my family called it) and you played things over and over? For me, it was this little red and white-striped box that held a record player inside. You could fold up the box and carry the thing around. It was in our playroom forever. Even before that, my parents had a record player. It was actually a record player and an Am/FM stereo in a HUGE cabinet. You raised the lid and the stereo was inside. Awesome. It was in the living room, and one of my earliest memories is listening to one of those K-Tel compilations that had Blondie’s “Heart of Glass” on it. Played it over and over and danced in the living room. Later, in the playroom, i would play some of my albums (Macho Duck and the Jungle Book. specifically), but more often than not, I would play my parents albums (and later 8-tracks). I really remember listening to The Every Brothers Greatest Hits, Buddy Holly,  and The Beach Boys a lot. On 8-track, Linda Rondstadt was a fave. Bay City Rollers. The Eagles’ Hotel California. Elvis, Elvis and more Elvis. My mom loved her some Elvis. She was even a fan club member back in the day. (Membership card here.)I remember hearing Suspicious Minds all the time! I remember the day Elvis died, too. I came inside – had been out playing, and mom was sitting in the den blaring Elvis’ Heartbreak Hotel, and sobbing with tissues in her hand. Yes, my first experience with death and grieving was Mom mourning Elvis.

Another vivid childhood memory was Saturday mornings. My dad would put on Otis Redding, or some Stax/Volt compilations and do housework. I can remember Dock of the Bay being on, and then the sound of the 60s vacuum coming on, and shrieking as I jumped up on the couch to avoid the vacuum getting me; Cecil did not watch out for toes. Other important childhood albums: Dylan’s self-titled “Bob Dylan” with my mom’s friends writing all over it: “Virgin” for my mother’s name, Virginia. A bunch of Beatles and Beach Boys, Jan and Dean, the aforementioned Stax stuff, and Peter, Paul, and Mary. Hank Williams. Hank Williams, Jr. (also my first concert), a ton of Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson. Sure, there was some crap: Abba, for instance. But mostly it was great stuff.

Where am I going with this? Well, i think back fondly on a lot of that stuff that I heard growing up. Especially now that my kids are inundated by media, and constantly singing some Barney shit, or wanting us to buy them Diego albums or whatever. So, we still try to listen to our stuff and hope the kids like it. And most of the time, they do have favorites emerge. Every few months or so, we will make them a playlist and now both kids have their own CD player in their rooms. They will play for hours and listen to music and sing in their rooms. I think this is awesome, because then I can also play somewhere else in the house without being bothered by the little pests.

So, Todd made them a cd a few days ago. Some of the stuff they like includes The Cure, Dr. Dog, The Ramones (Tiller knows most of the words to “Blitzkrieg Bop,” which is just funny), and their current absolute favorite is The New Pornographers’ “Letter from an Occupant.” Tiller makes up her own words and her version included a lyric that instead of the “Letter from an Occupant” line, sounds something like “For the love of a Monkey Pie,” which let’s face it, probably makes as much if not more sense.

You are probably asking yourself, “Does she really let her kids listen to a band with the word ‘pornographer’ in their name?” Why, yes. Yes, she does. Because kids never ask the meaning of words, they just like to say them. Rollie gets it right, and Tiller insists on calling them the New Photographers, which makes me laugh, and pisses Rollie off, which is always funny. We gang up on him and call things by the wrong names and he throws tantrums and we laugh at him.

We don’t get out much.