Lots of fun in the snow today!
All bundled up and ready for the snow.
Frolicking
Are we done yet?
Taking a rest from the frolic.
Possibly getting a little too action shot for me and my camera.
It's so cold i can't feel my face. Hahahahaha.
Serious. And Goofy
More frolic.
Alright, Malex, now you pissed me off.
I swear to God, Rollie and Todd have been playing Legos for five hours straight. I am completely amazed at rollie’s focus and Todd’s infinite patience.
So, here’s what we’ve been up to. . .
Christmas Eve, Rollie came down with quite an ear infection. Quint took good care of him.
We spent Christmas Eve at Leelee’s house. There was much cuteness of children and stuffing of our faces, and dogs running around, and Cecil drinking scotch. Todd and I brought the kids home afterwards and tucked them in, then readied for Santa Claus. Luckily, this year there was no Victorian dollhouse to put together. Which basically means we lay out the loot under the tree, stuff the stockings, and pour ourselves a well-earned nightcap. I usually watch “It’s a Wonderful Life” on Christmas Eve, but i am a good wife and I let Todd kill zombies instead. Oh, Holy Night. . . .
I played with my camera. I just love a Christmas tree in the dark.
Rollie got a Hot Wheels bike from Santa. I love that green color.
Tiller got a Hello Kitty bike. I wish it came in my size.
I love a Christmas tree in the dark.
I used to sit in the living room in Roswell, in the dark, and just look at the tree.
This is an ornament Vanessa gave me years ago. I love it, but it is heavy and i have to tie it down on the tree so that it doesn't fall.
This is an ornament my sister gave me. It looks like snow. I can't believe we haven't broken it yet.
The next morning, Tiller found the stockings and didn't even see her bike at first!
Tiller was beside herself. Pure joy.
Rollie didn't feel good and we could tell. He wasn't really amped up at all until he got Monster Jam tickets in his stocking. Santa is kind of an asshole, as he only left two tickets, so Tills and I am on our own that night, I guess. Sigh.
Todd and I drank coffee, cuddled, and untwisted a lot of twisty ties and rubber bands from cardboard.
That afternoon, Mom, Dad, Lisa, Mark, and Dash came over. We all opened gifts, drank wine, played toys with kids, and made a lot of noise.
Two generations. Not sure what Tills is doing here.
Rollie really didn't feel well. You can see him feigning excitement here.
Tiller decided to throw a tantrum during gift opening. Always fun to discipline your child in front of your parents.
These things just aren't that exciting. I just don't get it. Robotic hamsters?
Alex was a gift unto himself.
Birdie didn't really get the whole Christmas thing. He could have gotten a lump of coal in his stocking and he would still have this look on his face.
After the dishes were clean and dinner done and kids in bed, we finally go to relax.
So, let's talk gifts. My dad got me these. As far as gifts from Dads go, this is not bad. V. comfortable, not offensive to look at.
My sister got me these and also an awesome necklace. She buys me the best gifts. I also kind of like my camera skills on this one.
From my mom, who evidently still thinks i am six. Yes, i am a 37 year old with Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer pjs. Note the Abominable Snowman.
These are the best. LOVE getting these from the kids. I see myself crying over them for years to come.
I have a thing for the Black Cat Fireworks logo. It cracks me up, always has. Todd finally got the hint and got me a Black Cat shirt! Rowr!
He also got me a thermometer. Lisa rolled her eyes that I would get excited over this, but I love getting stuff for my yard, and nature-type stuff.
So, i saw that Todd had put The Monsters of Templeton on his wish list. He noticed the same thing on my wish list. We both got one for Christmas. From each other. Much laughter ensued. I am thinking we maybe need to spend a little time apart, or by next year, we might be wearing matching Christmas outfits. On the plus side, we can have our own little book club. At least for one month.
Todd also got me the Merge Records book I've been wanting to read. Will probably start this one next. Yay! That cover photo makes my heart pogo.
The next morning, we got up early, kicked my parents out, and headed for Auburn.
While we were there, the kids got some time in on their new razors, and I had a few heart attacks.
We did some hugging.
And Tiller pitched another fit. . .
And then we hugged some more and rode the dinosaur at the park.
Then more hugs with Uncle Lyle . . .
And even more hugs with Lyle and Denise.
We had lots of fun, and my in-laws spoiled the kids, and I didn’t get one single picture of my niece, Luci. We left on Monday and came back to Atlanta. On the way, we decided to stop and get fireworks, which was funny, because I was wearing my new Black Cat shirt.
Kids with Todd at Black Cat Fireworks store.
Since then, we’ve been recovering from Christmas, putting away the loot, stuffing our faces with cookies and drinking wine. Yesterday, we felt we needed some fresh air and exercise, so we hiked up Stone Mountain with the kids. I had my doubts about whether they could make it, especially Tiller, but she didn’t lag at all. She picked her way up the mountain like a mountain goat. That’s her new nickname. The Mountain Goat. We didn’t have to help them at all, which as a parent, is nice.
Taking a rest on the way up.
Tiller looking stoic, while the boys cut up at the top.
I was kind of disappointed that no one had decorated this little tree behind us for Christmas. Also, please don't judge my fashion choices.
Todd had fun with perspective.
And they kids thought it was hysterical.
Rollie was rocking out, I guess. Not really sure, but he's a cutie.
One last shot overlooking downtown, before we head back down the trail. Tiller and I took off after this and kicked Todd and Rollie's asses. I'm just sayin.' You don't mess with The Mountain Goat.
I took some shots of Tills with the flags at the bottom, while we waited for the boys. Did I mention the Mountain Goat and her Mama beat them down the mountain? By many minutes? Girls rule, boys drool. (Tiller and I decided we wouldn't tell the boys that, though.)
All in all, we had a great Christmas vacation. Last night, I had dinner at Bistro VG with some friends from high school: Kevin Fagan and his fiance (she is awesome – they were in town from Richmond) and Jamie Kish and his wife, and Camille and Joe showed, too. Natalie didn’t show, which was disappointing. I ate a cheese tray and drank wine. Yum! The kids and todd went bowling today, and I am thinking about cooking dinner and building a fire tonight and perhaps playing some Beatles rock band. We shall see.
Them tomorrow, New Year’s Eve! We are having some friends over and their kids too. Should be interesting.
This is what it’s all about for me.
For more love, check out the gallery of photos below . . .
I want, I need, I love this.
I have to have it.
This makes no sense unless you watch Friday Night Lights. It is my favorite show. I don’t currently really watch it, because we don’t have it because Comcast sucks donkey dongs. I don’t understand why, but it is on a channel that we don’t get, and so I have been going through life trying to avoid at all costs hearing what is happening on the show until the new year, when Friday Night Lights will be on my very own television in my very own house.
At the lake my parents have satellite and they for some reason get the show, which is funny, because they don’t watch it. But I guess I set it up to record it while I was living there, and it recorded some of this season’s episodes. There were five of them from the new season on the DVR this weekend. There were some missing, presumably because my parents were watching CSI Special Crimes Mentalist Victim Unit Criminal Bones Minds Miami and the message mentioning that it was going to record Friday Night Lights came on, and Dad said, “What the hell is this shit?” and selected “Cancel Recording.”
I stared guiltily at those five episodes in the guide for a while. I was obviously at a precipice. I could walk away from the cliff. I realized that I should walk away.
Except that I might have accidentally watched four episodes of it before i realized that. (I was kind of like Saracen when he opened the box in that fourth episode that I wasn’t supposed to watch.) And I would have watched the fifth, but i had to nerd out on some stars.
I just couldn’t help myself. It is shameful, but I love that show so much, I even taught my kids, who are already confused enough by football allegiances, that my second favorite team is the Dillon Panthers. And now Coach Taylor has gone across the tracks to coach football at the other high school in town, East Dillon. The Lions, in case you are wondering, as my kids will when they find out my allegiances will change to from Dillon High to East Dillon.
So, when I read Melanie’s Fashion Friday edition I Can’t Feel My Face post on Big Mama, and came across her #7 choice, well, let’s just say i never knew that there was a hole in my t-shirt collection until I saw it. I have to have it.
My poor, poor confused children will have to deal.
As i mentioned briefly in another post, I have been a little stressed out. A little anxious. Todd and I decided to go to the lake this weekend to blow off some steam and relax. And by relax, I mean relaxing in the time-honored Palmer way, which is to work your ass off to near-exhaustion performing manual labor.
We went down Saturday afternoon and got there in time to warm the place up. (It was 40-something degrees when we walked in.) Todd started some yard work, the kids ran around like wild animals (a good thing), and I started some John Maghetti for dinner. After it was on, the sun was setting, so I grabbed a couple of beers for Todd and I, and went outside to play with the kids, watch Rollie hit the tennis ball with Todd (no we don’t have a tennis court), and shoot some pictures and enjoy my favorite time of day at the lake.
We took photos and ran around, then went inside and ate dinner while watching Elf. You can’t beat John Maghetti, and the fire going, and belly-laughing at Elf with your husband and kids for stress relief. Honest to God, I just about bust a gut when Buddy says to Jovi, “It’s just nice to meet another human that shares my affinity for elf culture.” That is some good stuff. Just kills me. I also love that Rollie would laugh along with me and think it was hysterical just because we thought it was hysterical.
So, we got up yesterday and had breakfast and then Todd and I worked in the yard all day long, cutting shrubbery back to tame the wilds and pulling vines out of high pine trees, and tearing mistletoe from dogwood. And the kids played. Now, usually they play and then fight for a while, then play some more. This was almost pure playing. Almost zero fighting. Just running around, and rosy cheeks, and noses running and then wiping their snot on their sleeves, and yelling to hear their echoes across the lake, and tiller being the master of all the dogs in the area – Choco, and Josie, and Quint all a swirling mass of furriness following her around. They threw rocks and earned two dollars hauling clippings up to the burn pile. We were all cold when we started, and then warmed up with play and work.
I felt tired but good. We worked til we just about fell out and it started getting dark. We made two absolutely huge piles of limbs and vines and leaves to be burned. We had windburn on our cheeks and blisters on our feet, and scrapes and sappy fingers.
And I had no anxiety.
We cleaned up and took showers and had a couple of beers. We warmed by the fire. We went to town with the kids and had pizza and then to WalMart to let them spend their two dollars. We went home and tucked in two tired kids and Todd let me watch four episodes of Friday Night Lights.
And I had no anxiety.
Todd went to bed during the last episode of FNL. I guess he just couldn’t take the mental turmoil of Saracen and Riggins, and Coach and Tami, and the rigors of living the west Texas high school football life. Or maybe he was just tired. I was fifteen minutes from midnight. I had places to be.
I opened a last beer and made that “let’s go outside to pee” sound that I make to the dog at night. I think i got that one from my Daddy. Some of you know the sound. Quint struggled to his feet (he is old and has arthritis), while I put on a hat and a sweatshirt and my old wool plaid barn jacket that I leave at the lake because it is ugly, but I love it and still like to wear it.
I went down to the lake, and purposely left the lights out so that I could see the stars. I debated getting a ladder out and trying to disable the damn security light, but a) I had consumed at least six beers at that point, and I’d probably fall off the ladder and b) Dad would see the light was out and I’d end up back up the ladder fixing the damn thing within weeks.
It was clear. I thought to myself, “Which way is East?”
Easy. I had seen so many sunrises over that side of the lake, mornings fishing with Pop and Dad, up before dark, Grandma making me a thermos of hot sugar and milk with a drop of coffee, that I knew it by heart. I sat down on the far side of the dock, back to the pontoon and the power plant, on the narrow walk. I sat cross-legged, Indian style, criss-cross applesauce. I tucked a hand in my wool plaid pocket. Occasionally, I switched off hands in the pocket and hands on the beer. Mostly, I gazed up at a clear winter sky, and looked for meteors.
Quint came to sit near me. He wouldn’t lie down. He stared at me. He wondered what the fuck we were doing out in the cold midnight, when we could be on the couch near the fire. I saw it in his eye and the attention and cock of his ears.
I shushed him and rubbed his cold ears. I looked out across a glass-like lake, not a ripple on it, with no wind in the trees. i heard the plant occasionally, and wished I couldn’t hear it. I imagined what it would have sounded like on a lake with no power, what it would be like with nothing but natural light, the light of stars and moons. I couldn’t. There were Christmas lights across the lakes. I heard geese, and nothing else. I saw a couple of planes, the only other sign of life in this strange December 20th night. One day before Winter Solstice, ushered in by the Ursids.
The lake was so calm that I could see the reflection of the brightest stars on its surface. And oh, the stars!
A blanket of stars in a swath across the eastern sky, for me and me only, reflected on my lake. It was five after midnight. No meteors yet. And then there was one. And then it was gone.
I sat for almost an hour, sipping my beer slowly, staring at the sky until my eyes grew tired. I would see a shooting star and it would be gone, and I felt that familiar star-gazing feeling of relief that I was really seeing something, and awe that I knew to look that night, that man has learned so much about something so boundless.
I wondered about the other folks who might be out looking up that same night, the night before the Winter Solstice. And yet I was so alone, just me and my dog. I could slip into the lake and no one would ever find me. I stood and walked back to land. I stood there at the edge of the lake shivering, Quint sitting patiently at my side, and told myself I would go in when I saw the next meteor.
I saw it, streaking across the sky, and then it was gone. I went inside and crawled into bed with my husband and I was happy and satisfied and feeling small and big all at the same time.
And I had no anxiety.
I don’t mind the weather
I’ve got scarves and caps and sweaters
I’ve got long johns under slacks for blustery days
I think that it’s brainless to assume
That making changes to your window’s view
Will give a new perspective
So, yeah, the anxiety is getting me down, and I feel like I’m in a rut. So, we’re going to my happy place. I don’t care how cold it is. I think it just might actually give me new perspective.
Things we’ve been up to. . .
Bad news first:
I think I am having anxiety problems. I have no idea what is causing it, other than that I haven’t been working out. This is a new one for me. I bet it will clear up when I get more exercise. Anyone else have this problem?
On to good stuff:
Seeing Santa at Joe’s Coffee Shop in East Atlanta, just like we have every year. Even though we don’t live there anymore, we still like to go back to our favorite coffee shop, and see people’s kids growing up and talk to old friends. And hey, where else can you go where you know Santa and the elves personally? It is a nice family tradition for us, even if Rollie was kind of an ass that day.
Mr. Grumpy face
Tiller loves hot chocolate.
Mom and Dad might buy this house in the Atlanta area:
Keep your fingers crossed for them.
We have elves. They showed up on the doorstep one morning with notes from Santa. They are full of mischief. As Rollie said the other day, “They did two mischievouses!” Or, as Tiller calls them: “Misfishes.”
The first night they were here they made a tower of presents and got into the wrapping ribbons!
Holiday Feast at Rollie’s school. We all went. They had turkey and dressing. Yes, school cafeteria turkey and dressing is just as terrible as you remember. THEY PUT MY ROLL SMACK DAB ON TOP OF MY TURKEY AND GRAVY; This is tantamount to holding me down and making me eat wet toilet paper.
Rollie and some classmates waiting in the lunchline.
It really captures the way that boys can’t stand still, and the kid with the shiner is really funny.
She is putting on a good face about the cafeteria lunch.
Rollie isn't bothering with putting a pretty face on it.
We made some Christmas cookies. I will never get the flour cleaned up. . . .
Rollie got a little on his face. And in his hair. And on the walls.
See that little container? She is about to take the whole container of sprinkles and dump it on one damn cookie.
Not as much fun to clean up. That is a ton of flour. It gets in the cracks of the table and turns hard and grody.
That’s about where I am. Stressed out about apparently nothing. Not feeling good. I have never really had problems with anxiety before. No clue what to do about it. Terrible feeling.
One of the great things about being an adult at Christmas is seeing pictures like this one of my nephew. Pictures of babies bawling on Santa’s lap. Nothing says, “Peace and Joy” like children terrified of creepy guys in smelly old polyester santa suits!??
What a crybaby!
I didn’t have time to fool around with resizing the photo (deadlines yo!), but it had to be larger to get the full effect of the terror. I know, shoddy.
(For those of you who are curious, this is the Lenox Mall Santa.)
I love my dad. Tonight, he got into the Scotch and started talking about “what he used to get for Christmas.” This involved thirty minutes, over and over, of him talking about his toy.
A big tire, and a stick. He would get the big tire rolling, and then push it with a stick. On Stephenson Ave, in Savannah. It was a dirt road back then.
I nodded, and chugged down my red wine, and said, “yeah, that was rough. I had it rough. We had an Atari. Have you seen Warlords? That game was like living in the dark ages! Pitfall? Those didn’t even look like crocodiles! And vines don’t have jagged edges!” Oh, the travesty of an abused childhood!
And then I chugged more wine. Then I played a bunch of Bejeweled while he watched CSI, Criminal Minds, and Fox News. Then I got on Flickr, and found these. Guess sometimes there is a grain of truth to Cecil’s stories. . . .
Maybe Henry St., maybe Stephenson Ave. Need to ask Dad in the morning.
And now, take a look at these brats:
Okay, just one more. . .
Yep, we had it hard. Space Invaders? Those didn’t even look like aliens!