Perhaps I am too old for bachelorette parties? I feel like I am still recovering from my lack of sleep.
Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category
Thursday, September 19th, 2024
I think I might be a fictional character.
I was thinking last night, when I couldn’t fall asleep because of my new-to-me-as-of-the-last-year-or-so anxiety, about a book I read recently: Malcolm Gladwell’s
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Outliers.
If you haven’t heard of it, you should check it out. It was very entertaining, and very thought-provoking. I have thought about it daily since I read it and keep on thinking about how the principles Gladwell lays out in the book might apply to things I come across in my life. But most of all, I keep thinking back to the chapter on the Culture of Honor.
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Scouts
Thursday, September 19th, 2024Sometimes, it’s hard being Southern. You find yourself belittled by folks the world over, who don’t even know you, or haven’t even been to the South, and who are judging your friends, family, and culture, based on an idea of the American South. You sometimes think that people truly think that talks slow = dumber than a box of rocks. You realize that people probably think that everyone sounds like a character on True Blood, or that all the popular girls at your high school probably modeled themselves after Scarlett O’Hara.
I once had a coworker in Denver ask me if I could have someone in Atlanta find him some Mint Julep cups and mail them to him. I was like, “Mint Julep cups? What the hell is a mint julep cup?” It turns out that my coworker, despite his two college degrees, thought that all southerners drank Mint Juleps. I explained to him that I had not once ever heard of someone drinking a mint julep, except possibly at a Derby party, and only then, it was probably as show. (Incidentally, it turns out that there is such a thing as a julep cup. Who knew?)
I felt sorry for him. But then, sometimes? I feel sorry for me. I’m a Southerner. I know tons and tons of smart and witty and forward-thinking Southerners, who aren’t racists, homophobes, hunting militia members, or fanatical religious snake handlers. And I cling to that knowledge, knowing that the world does not completely know what they are talking about. That we are not all one and the same.
I remember that there are things about being southern that I love, but that other more liberal, more educated, more progressive, people might find distasteful. There are so many things about my traditional Southern upbringing that I LOVE. I love the cooking, and the college football, and the Braves, and gardening, and fishing, and our fascinating (and often tragic) history. I love the sayings the old people say, like “cuter than a speckled pup under a red wagon.” I love that I could go visit a house today that my great, great, great, great, great grandfather lived in in 1752, before America was even a country. I love that I remember I love that i knew my grandparents and spent tons of time with them, that i lived across the street from my cousins, and that my daddy taught me to shoot a shotgun when i turned ten years old. I would cut off my pinkie finger if I could have my grandma make hoecake for me one more time. I love that people here smile at one another, and say “Hey!” to strangers, and kids call me ma’am. I like all y’all’s southern accents (That’s you, Virginia, and you, mountains of TN and NC, and you, SE coast, and you in New Orleans.)
And i get mad that people make fun of us, or lump us all together, and yet I still refer to people as “Damn Yankees.” I love some of you Yankees and you are my friends, but dang, you ain’t from here, are ya? And I justify calling you a damn Yankee, because my Grandma told me herself that her Grandma used to tell her about when she was a girl in 1860s Fredericksburg, and she and her sister were out picking berries to feed the family, because the Damn Yankees let the pigs into the root cellar to eat all the family’s potatoes, and they found the dead yankee and stole his handkerchief, and then they took turns spitting on him.
True story.
I’m not sure where I’m going with this, except that I vacillate wildly between being proud of where I am from because I know it is a vital part of who i am, and at the same time, groaning inwardly every time another dumbass makes us all look like assholes.
And I end up walking a high wire balancing act in raising my children, in picking and choosing the things that I want to pass on to them. Things I definitely want to pass on, off the top of my head:
How to make Fried Green Tomatoes and Hoecake
A love for boiled peanuts (Hopefully, they will pronounce it “balled”)
Braves and Bulldog Love (Will accept an Auburn fan, but disown any Gators or Tide fans.)
Good manners (yes, sir, no sir, Please, wave when someone lets you cut in traffic, write thank you notes, etc.)
Belief in right to own fire arm, even if you do not want to own one yourself. (There. I said it.)
How to clean fish
The right way to make cornbread
Belief in personal responsibility
Frugality
Importance of not owing anybody anything if you can help it.
Etc.
Things I will also like to pass on to my child:
Belief that we are all created equal
Belief in freedom of religion (and freedom to not practice religion at all)
Those last two . . . well, the first sets me apart a bit from some of my fellow southerners, and the second from most of them. I admit it.
But what I was reminded of this week? It isn’t just Southerners. I forget that sometimes, but there are people all over the country who don’t believe those last two. And that makes me simultaneously angry, sad, and happy.
Angry that the issue came up here in my neighborhood. Sad that we have come so far, and yet not far enough, and happy that it wasn’t just Southern folks doing it this time.
My kid wants to join the Boy Scouts. They hand out the scouting stuff at school. Turns out the Boy Scouts doesn’t want gays to hold “leadership positions” in the Boy Scouts of America, but Dekalb county has Boy Scout reps come into the schools and
I want my kid to have the scouting experience. Camping and badges and the cute little uniform and learning how to build stuff. Have you ever met an Eagle Scout? Every one I’ve ever met was awesome. I’m pretty sure there are lots of gay men, who had very traditional upbringings, who would also like for their kids to have the scouting experience. And their kid can. But their Dads won’t be allowed to participate. And if you’re an Atheist or Agnostic? Well, you can’t join either.
I like Georgia
Thursday, September 19th, 2024In honor of football season starting back up, I was rereading my bulldog-related posts. . . thought i’d share. (Yes, i am that lazy.)
Some of my faves:
The Bigass Bulldog Birdhouse Birthday
My most recent Temporary Marriage Annulment Day post. (31-24 Bulldogs, of course. Good times!)
Dining Room Before and Afters
Thursday, September 19th, 2024
Basement Before and Afters
Thursday, September 19th, 2024Somehow forgot to ever post this. . .
Here are photos of our Granny Chic basement before we moved in:
And our basement after the renovation:
Thursday, September 19th, 2024
I haven’t written in almost two weeks. It’s not that I haven’t had anything to say, but rather that I have had too much to say. I have grappled with more weighty issues for my little brain in the past two months than I have since having Rollie.
I thought being a parent was hard. It’s only gotten harder in many ways. Sure, they are out of diapers, and they can play by themselves. They can feed themselves, and sit up in a chair, and put themselves in the car and buckle their own seat belts. They can dress themselves. The physical marathon of parenting a baby or toddler is over.
But now the problems are more about doing the right thing. Teaching them the right things. Having realistic expectations. Right from wrong. Setting a good example. Teaching good citizenship.
And in the last couple of months, I had to wrestle with the Boy Scout dilemma. Yes, we made a decision, and no, I haven’t posted about it, even though it occupied my thoughts for days on end, and pretty much gave me an ulcer. It will be a long post. And I just haven’t had the time or energy to write it.
And now, for almost two months of First grade, my kid has been struggling. He comes home from school saying he “is bored” and he “hates school.” He has had, I swear to God, an ISS already. Yes, my first grader had in-school suspension before August was even up. Homework, which he breezed through last year, has become a chore of monumental proportions. He rushes through it, so quickly that half the time I cannot even read what he has written. I have to make him go back and do it neatly. He cries and slams things around and gnashes his teeth.
He makes 105s on all spelling tests (they get a bonus for spelling “robust vocabulary words”), even after they started sending home the “more advanced” homework packet. He gets smileys on all his classwork. He gets As on the tests. The only times he hasn’t was when parts were illegible, or he disregarded upper and lower case letters, or he just skipped questions altogether. Except for that one time when he got two wrong. I asked him why, when I knew he could easily answer the reading comprehension answer. His reply? “I thought those answers were funnier.”
Running Playlist Suggestions
Thursday, September 19th, 2024So, I’ve fallen off the wagon with my running, mostly due to some wonky knee and ankle issues, but partly due to crazy schedule and the heat of the summer, and kids who mutinied when I tried to take them to the gym. (I know. You are saying, “why don’t you get up early and run?” And that is why I will never be a great runner. I am worthless in the morning. Never say never, but it hasn’t happened yet.)
I’m easing back into it, and having minimal knee discomfort, which is good, and I am really needing some new blood on my running playlists. What are you currently listening to while running? Any good new stuff you are running to? Help a girl out, here; You can only listen to so much Girl Talk. Leave suggestions in the comments, pretty please!
And in that vein, I’ll list my top ten all-time favorites (as of right now) off my running playlists.
Your mileage may vary.
And, as always, all runs end with a little Damn It Feels Good to be a Gangsta. Best cool down song ever. Even more bad ass when you are running with a jogging stroller. Trust me. You will smile every. time.
Tiller is Five
Thursday, September 19th, 2024Dear Tiller,
I can’t believe you are five! You and your brother are growing up so fast, and with this last birthday, I really feel like I have no babies. I am no longer a mom of young ones, or a “new mom.” I’m a veteran.
I just realized that i am also world’s worst Mom. I think i forgot to write a post about your fourth birthday. I just looked through all my 2009 birthday posts and I can’t find it anywhere. I haven’t written anything since you turned three.
I SUCK.
I am so sorry.
This one might be extra long then. . . a post for two birthdays!
Let’s see, where to start?
Well, you didn’t get into the lottery-funded pre-K at the elementary school where Rollie goes. It would have been nice to have you both at the same school, but then again, I tell myself that I get to spend three days each week having lunch with my girl. Yes, three, because the other days, you eat at school. You begged and begged to be able to stay for Lunch Bunch, and so we decided you could do that on Tuesdays and Thursdays. You were ultra-excited to have a lunch box to carry, just like your big brother. (His is Lightning McQueen; Yours is Disney Princesses, but then your grandma Johnson gave you a Tinkerbell lunchbag, too, so you have two. That’s good for me because I don’t always do dishes as often as I should.) You usually eat peanut butter and honey. Maybe carrots. You still love goldfish, although I’m trying to cut down on that kind of stuff.