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.
So, Todd didn’t cry after the game. I know I promised Iron Bowl, Part II, but I am all out of witty comments. Here is the abridged version:
We left the game, and “borrowed” a couple of cokes. We hitched a ride back to our car with Ned’s mom, Gwen. We parked at Todd’s old Jr. High and I got a good laugh out of him on his old stomping grounds. We went to Iain and Noelle’s to watch the second half. We went home and pigged out on Thanksgiving dinner and went to bed REALLY early. We got up the next day and went to the park with Todd’s dad, Todd’s brother, Wade, and our niece, Luci. We played. We left and went bowling. Todd won. The Auburn bowling alley is pretty darn good people-watching, too.
We went back over to Iain and Noelle’s to watch the Georgia/Georgia Tech game, and I came close to killing Matt, because he kept on switching over to LSU/Arkansas. There were eight people there, and ten dogs. yes, I said TEN. Quint came too. He was nervous, what with all the butts to sniff and nudge, and the fact that Iain was cooking ribs, and a couple of the dogs got into the grease under the grill, so they smelled like ribs, and a little bitch named Lela didn’t like him one bit, and kept growling at him. There was Lela and her brother, who was well-behaved and so i can’t remember his name, and T’s puppy, Coden, and the four of them finally settled down on the couch with Lela’s Daddy Matt and me. A brown dog love fest. There was also Casey, Sammers, and Ginger, along with Bodhi (spelling?) and Omar. Wait. Maybe that’s nine. Or I’m forgetting a dog. Oh, Butters from next door! Ten!
They all slept around and begged ribs, and at one point, I thought they were gonna eat T and Matt for sure.
All in all, v. fun. Then we got home and slept late, and there were no kids there when i got up, because they went to Sunday School with my in-laws. Then we ate Cracker Barrel after church (which we didn’t go to, but we met the kids and in-laws after) and then we sat in Thanksgiving traffic on the way back to Atlanta.
(Mouse over a photo for the caption.)
So, Todd went to Chicago this weekend to meet fellow Auburn boys, Brian and Tom. And to see the Pixies. Yes, I am the best wife in the world for not pitching a hissy fit that he was flying to Chicago to see one of my favorite bands ever. (Yeah, right. You know I didn’t take this lying down. I made him promise that I had a free pass if they came anywhere in the Southeast on this tour. So, if you want to go, let me know and you will be included if it comes up. ) In all seriousness, Toddler really deserved this weekend, as he is the best husband/Daddy combo ever, and he has been working his ass off for the last six months.
I decided that I would go visit my parents at the lake for the weekend. It’s always nice to have someone to talk to after the kids go to bed, and i love taking the kids to the lake where they can run free in the trees, and fish, and crawl around in the bushes and get wet and muddy. They get to learn about life in the food web via fishing and all of the dogs decimating a nest of baby squirrels. I worry they don’t get enough of that. Nature Deficit Disorder, if you will. We thought it was going to rain all weekend, but it ended up being really nice weather on Saturday, so the kids played, and I did some yardwork for my dad (leaves and pruning bushes, mostly.) So, about noon, just as i popped open a beer and was finishing my yardwork cleanup, i heard this . . . running water sound. It was pretty loud, so it didn’t take long to locate the source – the spigot in the front yard had sprung a leak. Water was bubbling up out of the ground.
This was one of those moments where i thought to myself, I should not say a word about this. Just let it run. If I say something, Cecil is going to want me to help fix this. I have fixed a leaky water pipe in this yard before. This will not be fun. Keep. Mouth. Shut.
I am dumb. I said something. We decided to eat lunch before starting to fix it. I like that when I am at the lake, I can eat things for lunch like turnip greens and leftover Old Clinton BBQ and wash it down with a margarita. (My sister had come down that morning with my nephew Dash, and god bless her, the first thing she usually does when she gets to the lake is make margaritas. I couldn’t let her drink alone, no matter how much leaky pipe i had to fix that afternoon.) After that Dad had me knee deep in mud before i finished the damn margarita.
I dug and dug and was a complete and total Goat Man in minutes. After digging a couple feet down all around the spigot, we found the trench where the water line was. In the true spirit of half-assed construction, and wiring that is the lakehouse, the water line is in the same trench as the power. So, I was digging in a hole that was quickly filling with water and through which electricity was running. Brilliant.
I did not get electrocuted, although that might have been sweet relief from my father telling me how to do everything. Twice. Because just saying it once might not sink in through my thick skull. No, everything must be stated twice. If something isn’t working, and I am trying to figure it out, while I am doing so, my father repeats his instructions. Over and over. Just taking the volume up a notch each successive time.
I finished the margarita, which was helpful both in regulating my attitude, and because I could then use the cup to bail the water out of the hole. That’s what you call forethought and ingenuity. I will just pour myself this drink, so that when i am done, i can use the cup to bail out a muddy hole filled with water.
About this time, we decided to turn the water back on, and find out where the leak was. It was, of course, right below ground level, on the pipe running up to the spigot. Not in one of the pipes running through the yard at all. Basically, this means that I didn’t really need to dig up the whole damn trench anyway. Sigh.
Dad and I went to the hardware store to get a replacement pipe. Just trust me when i say that trips to any store with my dad are a nightmare, but especially to a store where they sell things men would be interested in: manly things like trucks, lumber, tractors, fertilizer, nails, power tools, knives, guns, or ammo. I love him, but he really likes to “talk shop” with whomever the resident expert is on any subject. I usually stand around avoiding eye contact with the other folks in the store, while pretending to be really interested in joint compound. This time, I stood in Ace with mud from head to toe and checked out the vast array of dead deer heads on the wall. People walked by me like i was an insane person wandered in off the street.
We headed back to the house with our pipe, just in time to meet the neighbors who had come over to visit. This is another thing I find humorous about the country. People just show up at 2 pm on a Saturday, with a cooler and a chocolate lab on the back of their golf cart or Gator, and everyone starts drinking. In this particular instance, the two gentlemen were decked out in their Bulldog regalia and informed me that they were “tailgating.” They didn’t have a tailgate and weren’t in Athens, but i liked the spirit of it anyway.
They stood with my dad, drinking beer, while I got down in the hole and fixed the pipe, and all the while they were telling me how to do the job. “Don’t strip it now.” “You need to get it tight,” and so forth. The only saving grace to this was that they made me drink their moonshine (all the way from Silver City, Georgia! Peach flavored! Straight outta the mason jar!) and I needed two shots to make sure it tasted alright, but after that, I felt much more equipped to deal with the peanut gallery.
We finished up and the pipe was fixed, and then my kids wanted to fish, so I sat on the dock and enjoyed another beer in the late afternoon light, while making sure they didn’t plunge into the lake. I untangled crossed rod and reel lines, and put minnows on cane poles, and I was muddy, and hanging out with the pack of five or six dogs that always seem to congregate in our yard whenever we visit. It turned out to be a pretty nice day.
I was thankful for the lake and the good weather, and the company of my kids, and even my father, and some big, dumb, wet and muddy dogs. It is funny how disconnecting from the tv and the radio and the internet, getting outside in the fresh air, working, getting muddy, hearing your own breathing and the sound of your child’s laughter and dogs barking and growling and wrestling in the yard can make you feel relaxed and at peace and like all is right with the world.
Oh, and then I finally had my shower. There is no better shower than a post-yardwork, muddy Fall day, very hot shower. Then a steak dinner.
Sheer bliss.
Todd and I went to Athens on Saturday, for our biennial Georgia vs. Auburn football game attendance. My father-in-law usually gives us his tickets for the game when it is in Athens. He does, however, reserve the right to revoke this gift in case of the game being some huge, season-altering event for Auburn, such as both teams going into the game undefeated. Needless to say, that revocation was not put into action this season, as both teams are sucking ass.
So, we got up on Saturday, had a quiet coffee together (kids were already in Auburn with grandparents!) and then drove up to Athens. After dropping off the dog, and going back by the house to get the tickets, of course. Helps to get into the stadium if you have them.
We stopped at my friend Brant’s house and left my camera battery to charge on his porch. He was not there, and despite our best efforts to meet up, we never got ourselves together enough to do so. That did not step him and Opel from sending me awesome texts that made me laugh throughout the game. Most were directed at my dear husband, the Auburn Tiger, and what he could put into his mouth after any given play in the game.
We had T-stand (that one’s for you, Scotty P, Honey, and Ryan – if any of you can tell me exactly what I ordered, i will mail you five bucks) for lunch, then headed off to find somewhere to park. Not fun. Ended up paying a ridiculous amount for parking. I have to say that, even in the throng of obnoxious people out and about in on game day, there are few better feelings than walking around Athens and the University of Georgia campus with a beer in hand, especially when the temperature is in the 70s in November.
We headed off to Horton Drugs (I love an old-school drugstore), so that I could purchase some Tylenol, since I was coming down with a cold all that day. The old pharmacist actually came out from behind the counter and helped me find the Tylenol, even pointing out the generic, while the hippie kid cashier was obviously high.
Horton's Drugs
The Georgia Theater, November 2009
We headed over to The Globe for beer. I never really spent that much time at the Globe when I was in Athens, because I thought it was expensive and that the people who hung out there were old, professorial, and boring. Funny how your perspective changes as you age.
We went inside, grabbed a table, and then Todd went to the bar to get us a Terrapin. (When in Rome.) A seat opened up at the couch in the window. Snagged it. Then Todd, eagle eye that he is, noticed a table outside and grabbed that, and the rest is history. We did not move again until time to go to the game. Why would we move when it was 70 degrees and we had the best people watching EVER? I was not able to get shots of most of these astounding outfits, but I did snap a few.
You gotta love a town where people bring their cooler with them into the bar.
You can't tell, but this charming lady has overalls with GA patches all over, including a huge one on her butt. Flattering!
Overalls aren't just for the ladies. At least this gentleman knows that vertical stripes are slimming!
This lady cracked me up. She has a football field sweater. A bulldog necklace. She is not messing around about her love of the Bulldogs.
Even the bulldogs want you to be sure you know for whom they are pulling . . .
Fellows of the Peanut Gallery
On their way to grab beer from the car.
I love this time of day in Athens.
Old Stomping Grounds
I mostly posted this one because I like the light. I do not endorse tobacco use.
This is not what the front of Park Hall looked like when I went to school here. Fancy!
This is what i look like very sober. This is what Todd looks like when he is humoring me.
This is what i look like when I am heckling a young man trying to pee in a corner.
This is the only picture I could get of me with Annie showing her face.
This guy evidently never ages. He has been there as long as I can remember. Note that I have no problem with people who love Jesus; Only the ones who tell me I am going to burn in hell when i am just trying to have a good time with friends at a football game.
See up there in the very top of the left-hand corner? That is where we sat.
This guy was uber-enthusiastic. I thought Todd might end up making out with him.
It would be third down, Auburn, and he would turn around and rile the crowd up.
Then he would turn back around to watch the play. He was more entertaining than the game.
This woman was the Auburn version of my Mom cheering for the Vols. Look at those flashing eyes! She was looking right at me, too, Bulldog interloper that i am.
Sweet, sweet sleep was finally had by me. Except not really, because I got the consumption and coughed all night.
Morning in Bishop, GA.
Oh! Who won, you ask?
Why, the Bulldogs, of course. It was a great game.
Final: 31-24.
My streak continues. See, Todd and I have gone to three Auburn/GA games together in Athens. Georgia has won all three. I also went to an Auburn game with Todd in Auburn, when they played some crappy team. Florida Atlantic, or something like that. Auburn lost that time, too. So, I am not sure whether I am a good luck charm for Georgia, or more of a curse for Auburn.
I like to think it is a little of both.
This mother had her son taken from her at Hartsfield, without her permission. By TSA agents! There is something seriously wrong in our world. Seriously wrong. How much you want to bet that those folks are never held accountable?
I hope this gets picked up by the big news folks, and some heads roll.
Update: And now it seems this nutjob may have embellished her story a bit. . . .
Spent the whole day on the beach and then went to Indian Pass Raw Bar for a very late afternoon lunch. We hadn’t been there since before we had kids, so we kind of wondered how it would be with kids. No need to worry – The kids did awesome. We still didn’t get them to try oysters, so they had Grapico and Fanta Orange with a hot dog, while todd and I annihilated bay oysters. I am not kidding either. We had two dozen raw oysters for an app. Added some gumbo (honestly? Not that great.) Ate a dozen baked oysters. Then had another dozen raw and an dozen steamed for dessert. Best meal I’ve had in memory. (And I ate at Rathbun Steak this summer.)
It also has a wall of coolers, a la convenience store, where you grab your drink of choice (beer or soda). You then take your beer over and pop it open yourself on a bottle opener on column near the bar. They bring you oysters on lunch trays, with plastic forks, and paper towel rolls on each table. None of those silly two or four saltines to a package deals here. Each table gets a whole sleeve of saltines, with more if you need’em. Todd and I had a hot sauce tasting test. We both prefer Crystal for long-term eating, but the local Port St. Joe’s Ed’s Red is a fave for its heat; it goes well with oysters. I should also note that this is the kind of place where you ask the fisherman sitting at the table next to you what they are having, and they say, “Here,” and stick a fork in their food and hold it out for you. (It was crab-stuffed shrimp, and it was out of this world.) I laughed out loud when I heard the same fisherman remark to his fisherman friend that “this beer is making me sleepy. We need to start drinking liquor, clean out the boat, and get back out there!” Love that.
The kids loved the wall map with push pins marking customers’ hometowns. I enjoyed reading the notes from world travelers – I wondered what the germans and scots really thought of the place.
Me? I think it’s the bee’s knees. This place can’t be beat. Except for their Gator problem. It is heavily Gatorated, with a blue and orange checkerboard linoleum floor, and many Madonna con Tebows on the wall. I noticed a number of Georgia fans there. As I was leaving, I remarked to the one wearing an “Athens: College town with a football problem” that after the TN game, we did indeed have a football problem, and that I was going to tell Coach Richt that i saw them eating at a Gator establishment. A well-dressed, and kinda snooty-looking woman with them said, “I have a thing or two that I’d like to tell Coach Richt myself.” Well-said, Ma’am.
Last night, I had one of those perfect moments. I was supposed to be sauteing mushrooms, but I realized it was almost sunset, so I walked down to the beach with my camera, leaving Todd grilling steaks while the kids played frisbee. It was just me, the birds, the dolphins, and the ocean. Not another soul on the beach. I stayed as long as I could before complete darkness settled over the beach and I would not be able to make it back on the narrow path through the dunes.
As I was walking off the boardwalk towards the house, I saw Rollie walking towards me. Todd had sent him to get me and tell me that I needed to help with supper. Over dinner, Rollie asked what I was doing on the beach. Was I taking pictures with my camera? I told him I was mesmerized by the the waves and the dolphins.
He just decided to turn off his game in complete disgust and take the kids to the beach, thus leaving me alone with Quint the dog in an empty beach house, watching GA on the nice tv. Pouring my second Bloody Mary (V8 for vitamins and minerals, vodka to kill the cold) and thinking how awesome it must be to have the last name Rambo.
For the life of me, I cannot figure out how The Georgia Guidestones were built in 1980, just 40 miles from Athens, and I have never been there, much less heard of them. I want to go as soon as possible. Totally cool story!
Georgia’s granite is kind of interesting to me, too. I would love to see what Stone Mountain looked a thousand years ago, without the development around it, a dome of stone surrounded by forest. And then there’s the quarries. I have always found something very creepy about them. But one in particular, outside of Athens, was a destination for us as college kids. I can’t even remember now how you got there, but I know it was east of Athens, probably towards Elberton.
We would go out there when it was warm weather. You drove back on a wooded, deserted dirt or gravel road. I guess we were trespassing, but there was never anyone out there other than kids. There were actually at least two quarries (the pits themselves). There might have been more, but I don’t remember them. One was smaller, and had a sloped side to it at the time. We would lie in the sun, smoke and drink, and swim in the quarry. The water was cool and very clear in this pit, and the sides were not very far from the water. Everything about this smaller pool seemed blue and white and very bright.
The second one was VERY DEEP. The walls rose from the water, probably something like at least 50 feet. Maybe more? A hundred? The walls were a sheer drop, straight down. There were rickety old iron stairs or ladder running from the top down to the water. People would run off the edge and jump into the quarry. I never did it, as I am a big old wuss and very scared of heights. My friend and roommate Honey did it and my heart was in my throat the whole time. I thought she was one badass girl for doing it. I still think that she’s a badass.
There was also a huge crane there. I remember talking to a boy at a party one night in Athens. The next week, I heard that he had jumped from that crane to his death. I cannot remember his name.
The crane and the larger quarry, they seemed dark and foreboding. Awesome and ancient, even though they were man-made. I wonder if they look any different now – Seems that if they still use the quarry, it’s landscape would change between 1992 (or whenever it was we were out there) and today. Or maybe it looks as if no one has touched it. My God. 17 years.
This picture, found on Flickr, was taken in 2000. But the scene looks pretty much the same. I assume this is the same quarry.
Another photo to give you a feel of what it looked like, here.
One other reason i will never forget the quarry. I went there the day Kurt Cobain died. I was walking home from school. I am guessing it was March or April. I know it was spring. And i know it was still cool out, because I was wearing a coat. I was walking with Chris Bilheimer down the street in Athens, and we met a girl named Felicia. I don’t remember her last name. She worked with me at The Grill, and had a brother and sister. All three of them were nauseatingly beautiful people. She told us that Curt Cobain was dead. I remember being pretty stunned at first, but also thinking later that people got pretty upset over someone who wasn’t that great. Not that I didn’t love Nirvana, but come on. I never thought he was a complete God or anything.
I walked on home to my house off Pulaski. My roommate Scott was there, with Dave and Karen. I told them the news. We got in Karen’s jeep and drove out to the quarry. Someone took pictures, but it wasn’t me. Scott or Dave, if you read this and have the pictures, twould be AWESOME to see.
How is that for a cliched 90s story? And a totally disjointed blog post. Take this away from it: I want to go to these Guidestones. I want to go back in time and spend a day at the quarry with Ryan and Dave and Honey, Duke and Madison, or Scott and Dave and Karen. I still wouldn’t jump.
If you’re reading this and lived in Athens, did you go to the quarry? What do you remember about it? And where is it, exactly?
We took the kids for ice cream this afternoon. Oddly, Rollie wanted a Sprite instead. Todd and I decided we’d all share a bigass rice krispie treat, too.
Tiller went for the ice cream (birthday cake) and a handful of rice krispie treat, too. Sometimes it was hard for her to decide which to bite from. . . .
I am feeling ungrateful and babyish today. I love my kids. They are fun. But I miss the trips with leisurely walks, and less argument, less potty emergencies. I miss strolling around, stopping for a coffee or a beer. I miss perusing bookstores for an hour at a time, and window shopping, and not having to have a destination or a time schedule.
I know I will have it again someday. I just mourn it sometimes. And it is hard to stay dissatisfied when they look this happy.
