Glitter Heart
November 12th, 2014Family Football Knock Knock Joke
October 19th, 2014Good times throwing the football and listening to music with the family this evening. Todd and Tiller were coming up with creative things to do before she completed her routes. (Nerds.) Jumping jacks, dances, knock knock jokes.
This was the funniest.
Little traitor.
Also, does my voice really sound like that?
Rated PG for mild language, for those of you dense enough to blindly play a video from me in front of children.
Man Vs. Nature
October 17th, 2014I am finding the whole Ebola issue, and the government, political, and public response to it, fascinating. I am not really that concerned, but I do agree with others who are losing some confidence in the government and the CDC’s responses to this. I realize how many people i live near and who are friends that work there, and this is not a personal attack – It just seems to be that maybe the left hand doesn’t know what the right hand is doing? Or that is how it appears to me (and probably a lot of other people.)
It also is interesting to watch the response after having dealt with the CDC during the Crypto outbreak my family experienced. Obviously, Crypto isn’t deadly, but it was kind of eye-opening to see how worried folks were, their reactions, and the reactions from family doctors and CDC. I was one of the folks that met with a CDC focus group, and I’d say the biggest takeaway from that meeting was that the information on their website did not include a lot of practical, concrete direction on what the protocol for those affected should be when someone comes down with crypto. There was a lot of info on what it is, how you get it, etc, but not any step by step info on how institutions or individuals should handle it. (Should i go to work and when? How should the school handle it? What is the protocol for pools? Who do they call?) Kudos to the people tasked with revamping the crypto site for getting our input.
It appears that the hospital in TX was pretty ill-prepared for dealing with Ebola, didn’t have the right tools/protocol/training to handle it. (Never mind that this CDC person supposedly told that nurse to get on the plane – where is the common sense there? But i guess they were just following protocol? But the protocol doesn’t seem to address the issue if that’s the case.) I also think it will be interesting to see how the government response corrects itself in light of ebola being in the states. I’m curious if there have been any other disease outbreaks of this kind in the states before?
Anyway, just rambling, and again, not being critical of the work that the CDC does, just finding it interesting.
– If the CDC is tasked with disease control, and has an ebola group, why do we need an Ebola Czar? (and I’d be curious how much that position makes? Worst job title ever.) On the one hand, it seems like something the president has to do to quell fears. But it also seems like an admission that what is already in place has not been working.
– The travel ban discussion is interesting. When has anything like that ever been mentioned before? I can’t remember it if it has happened. Do you agree or disagree with Belize’s decision to not allow the cruise ship to come to their shores?
– It’s interesting that those being monitored in TX now are being told they must not be in public. I’m curious about how that sort of thing would hold up in a court of law? Is there precedence for something like this? What happens if they break their signed contract?
– Three weeks til the election and this may be the biggest political surprise I’ve ever seen. How will it affect the elections? What happens if more people come down with this?
– I mean, I didn’t see it coming that Michelle Nun would support the travel ban. That seems like a purely political move to me. On another note, you gotta love the “water kills ebola virus” comment from Deal. [smh] How many people support a travel ban? I have read that they feel that might make people come here undetected and cause more of an outbreak. Thoughts?
– Thoughts on the DeKalb Schools decision to not allow the two kids in Dunwoody to enroll? And the new requirements for new students from West Africa to be okayed by the district before enrollment? http://www.ajc.com/news/news/local-education/dekalb-school-leaders-barring-new-students-from-eb/nhkgF/
– And what about all the conflicting reports. CDC/govt says not to worry, but then you have news outlets (even CNN) also reporting that there are other ebola researchers and medical doctors who are concerned about things like mutation. Is the govt trying to keep us all calm, and not create a panic? How worried should we really be?
And the most interesting thing to me about it all – Are humans smarter than these organisms? Who will win? Man or Nature?
I basically just vomited all that up, because they were the things I was thinking, reading, hearing. Again, i’m not panicking. I just find the whole thing pretty interesting and was wondering what the thoughts of others were.
The Bear Went Over the Mountain
September 19th, 2014It has all come full circle. I have become my parents.
Tonight we watched Forrest Gump with the kids. I do not recommend this movie for 8 and 11-year-olds. Sure, Forrest is sweet, but bullying, child abuse, racism, war, death, amputation, implied nudity, sex, drugs, cancer, AIDs. This is not a kid’s movie. We watched it anyway. We had some good discussions and a lot went over their heads. They actually really liked the movie, and of course they think it is funny when I cry. Which i do, pretty much the whole movie.
So, there is this one scene, where Forrest goes to see Jenny at her all girls’ college, and she takes her bra off (but you don’t see anything, but Forrest does), and Forrest ejaculates. And when that scene came on, and we realized what was about to happen, Todd, sitting between Tiller and Rollie on the couch, put his hands over Tiller’s eyes, and he told Rollie not to look, and Rollie wanted to look, so I did exactly what I was taught to do in that situation.
I sang “The Bear Went Over the Mountain” at the top of my voice, distracting the kids from the TV and drowning out the sound of the movie. Todd joined in, as if my father passed down this little coping mechanism to him the day of our wedding. And then we acted like nothing much happened.
Yep, as a kid, my father sang “The Bear went over the Mountain” during any romantic or sex scene in any tv or movie. Until i was at least sixteen.
Oh. Except that time he took me to the theater to see Greystoke: The Legend of Tarzan. It’s hard to sing “The Bear Went Over the Mountain” at the movie theater at Roswell Mall. So, instead, there was 12 year old me, sitting next to my Dad, who was lusting after Andie McDowell the whole time. (Pretty sure he still does.)
The Bear Went Over the Mountain: Because it’s easier than talking to your children honestly about sex.
(Footnote: When Forrest is sitting on the bench in Savannah, waiting on the bus, and he gives Jenny’s address to the lady next to him, it is Henry St. Where my grandparents lived. Pretty weird.)
Recipe for a Good Weekend: The Five Bs
September 1st, 2014I know everyone else says their Labor Day weekend was great, but I’m pretty sure mine was the best.
First of all, I have an 11 year old now. We took him and five of his friends to the G braves game. The main thing you need to know about the Gwinnett Braves is that THEY SELL BOILED P-NUTS AT THE STADIUM.
It makes me feel a little off-kilter when I see how big the boys have all gotten. . .
(l-r) Jonah, Milo, Jack, Ben, Aidan, and Rollie, at the Gwinnett Braves.
They talk. A LOT. Mostly about farts. They are at a crazy age where they are still little kids, and yet almost teenagers sometimes. They listen to REALLY bad music. I mean, really bad. They think it’s good. One of them went so far as to say, “Parents don’t get it. Pop is the music of the future.” And “Mary broke her middle finger. Now she can’t use it any more.” Me: “Use it for what?” Kid: “Playing the recorder.” So, these six stayed up til like 1 am, laughing, inhaling pizza, talking smack, and playing video games. And now my basement smells like puberty.
~~~~~
And then there was this:
Oh, baby.
On Saturday, my sainted husband took the kids and dog to the lake, and Brett came and picked me up. Brett is my ex-husband from high school. I have known him since middle school, through high school, and into college. We have somehow stayed in touch, even though we have not lived in the same city (and sometimes country) since college. He is like family now. And the fact that he gave me first dibs on tickets (after his own family, of course) meant a lot. So, it’s not often that married folks get to spend an hour or so riding in a car, hanging out and chatting. And Brett and I got all day. (Luckily, we made it through the hellacious turn he made off of 316 into the gas station parking lot. There were squealing tires. Brett is very wild.)
So, we drove to Athens, parked at OMG-IT-WAS-SO-FAR. And then we walked. A lot. Fitbit says I walked over nine miles, which explains why on Sunday I felt rather similarly to the way i felt after running a half-marathon. And I didn’t even drink any bourbon while running that one.
What a beautiful (Hot) day it was for a walk in Athens. Oh, the people-watching. There is just not much like an SEC football town on a Saturday. So, we walked all the way from the intramural fields to North Campus. We found Brett’s cousins’ tailgate. (what the heck did people do to find each other before cel phones? I have trouble remembering.) They were gracious and gentlemanly and had lovely girlfriends (ah, to be 20-something again), and had ice and beer and . . no mixers for the bourbon. That’s okay, it seems I can be charming when i want to – i sweet-talked some poor Clemson boy for Coke. He didn’t know what hit him.
Then Jason and his friend Brian showed up, and wheee! Seriously nothing better than a sunny Saturday, drinking bourbon, and people-watching with two of your oldest, favoritest people, and about 80,000 strangers.
Brett, Me, and Jason. I love these two like the brothers I never had.
So, it came time to move on. Kickoff was at 5:30. Brett and I bade goodbye to our gracious hosts, hugged Jason, and set off to grab something to eat. I cannot begin to explain the crowds. We grabbed a hotdog from a corner vendor (flashbacks of my bachelorette party, anyone?), walked through the arches, and sat on the steps of one of the North Campus buildings and just watched people go by. There are old fans, and young fans, and couples, and the endless stream of ridiculous plays on the red and black dress. We finished up and headed towards the stadium. We took the scenic route and sat on the steps of Park Hall, just like the old days. I could have been sitting next to Kevin Fagan, doing the Red and Black crossword, smoking before class. Park has a great view, kind of up on a hill from the stadium, and the streams of people going by, and the sun hanging low in the west, and the sweet, sweet anticipation of kickoff never cease to wow me.
So, we headed towards the stadium in a bourbon haze, in a sea of red, and then we purchased the most trashy red and black t-shirts ever made. They are unable to be worn around children, or in polite company. (They cracked us up, and fueled by bourbon, it seemed like a good idea at the time. I am hoping that Brett will get a photo of Lucy wearing his, and send it to me. Brett and I both suspect we will get nothing but disapproving shakes of the head from our spouses, though.)
And then, a wave of people walking into the stadium, and to find our seats.
It’s pretty fun to watch Gurley hurtling towards you.
Great seats! Okay, the good thing about the seats were the location, the view and the overhang, shielding you from the sun. The bad thing is that it was probably 95 in the shade, and then the heat was rising from below and it seemed to just sit up under the overhang. I was never so thankful for the free fan. Talk about a way to feel southern. Dress in the same colors as the other 80,000 people around you, drink bourbon on early 18th century steps, and then use a fan to cool yourself off.
Well, I declare, I thought Brett might have a heatstroke up in that stadium. He’s almost a Yankee now, living out there on the west coast. I guess he just wasn’t used to our heat. Bless his heart.
(That was my best Scarlett O’Hara. That’s all I got.)
So, then? The game. Brett and I spent the first half being uneasy and nervous. Dawgs just didn’t look too . . . inspired. Well, that all changed, and we got quite a show in the 2nd half. That’s all I’m gonna say about that, because I believe in jinxes, and I’ve had my heart smashed to pieces the last two seasons, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for any outward emotional investment yet.
So, we got out of the game and rode the shuttle back out to the car, and drove back to Atlanta. All in all, it was a good day to be a Dawg.
~~~~~
Sunday, i woke up early, feet blistered, and packed a bag for the Lake. And i got there about 11. And it was, you guessed it, so hot. But i read on the dock, and the kids swam, and I drank beer with my two best friends, and I caught a bass and ate a persimmon and some berries right off the tree and vine, and then we at a steak dinner. And I watched the second half of the replay of the game, and it was just as good, and I got maybe a little excited, but JINXES. And then my husband and I did one of our favorite things, which is to sit on the dock, and listen to music, and gaze at the stars. (And a few fireworks across the lake.) The stargazing was not its best last night, a cloud covered most of the lake, but the Big Dipper and the moon were hanging low and bright in the clear western sky. It was hot and I had not showered, so i went swimming, and night swimming in the still lake, gazing at the crescent moon, with the faint notes of music in my ear is pretty damn near heaven.
I slept late (9? Is that late? I guess i am old.) I ate cold pancakes and drank coffee on the screened porch. And then Tiller and I rode the jet-ski, and we went to Goat Island, and it amazes/saddens me that she is so big now that she doesn’t even hold on to me when we ride. We did not see the goats, but boy was the lake busy today. And then i got back to the dock and i took Rollie out. Or should i say, he took me out. Yes, my boy is old enough to drive the thing, and I am just along for the ride. That is both wonderful and scary at the same time. (Still not old enough to take it out on his own, of course.) And my favorite part about that is that we get to have some time together, just the two of us, and we have fun, stopping to swim, and exploring the lake, and stuff like that.
So, i had to come home. Which makes me sad. When i was little, i used to cry about leaving the lake. I love it so. I still get sad to come back home. And now, back to the real world. The work week. The grind. But I feel pretty certain there will be a little Tuesday daydreaming about day drinking in Athens, 100-yard punt returns, fishing, swimming, and the stars.
Recipe for a good weekend: Boiled peanuts, Baseball, Bourbon, Bulldogs, and Bass.
*Photos courtesy of Brett Shell. It’s really hard to hold a drink while shaking one of those pom-poms and taking photos at the same time.
And So I Shall Write
August 28th, 2014I haven’t even written anything this year. Not one post. I used to write every day. I’ve mentioned it before, but life has gotten in the way a lot lately. I am often tired. Part of it is due to going back to work. There is also a part of me that wrestles with things I never struggled with in the past. Mortality, politics, race, education, relationships. Many things preoccupy me, but cannot be put into writing. Not because I’m not capable of writing about them, but because it is painful and would cause pain to others.
But I feel a gaping hole where my writing used to be. Or maybe it is more of a malignant growth that I used to remove daily with my writing. And now it just grows larger and larger and I feel the weight of it more every day. I realized this so much yesterday when my son turned 11. I used to write about my kids on every birthday, but sometimes it would take me hours; I just don’t have time like that anymore, and when I do, it is at night, and I am so brain dead from work that it just doesn’t happen. So yesterday, I promised myself I would write something today. I wrote for an hour. I wrote for me, not for public consumption, but to cut out some of what had been growing unchecked.
After that, I wrote for the daydreams. I spend a lot of time in the car, listening to music, and sometimes I have things I want to write, but they are just warehoused in my head, daydreams or movies in my brain. Believe me, you can imagine a whole lot when you’re stuck in a 10×10 metal box for almost two hours a day. You have to create your own little world, or you will just lose your shit completely. So, I wrote a little of that world down. It is not the only world, but it is the one that has most recently been occupying my mind. A snippet of a photograph from a dream I had a month ago, to which I add a little bit of the story every day. Aren’t brains and books amazing? Sure, they educate and inform, but their true value is that jump to another world. It might be vastly, wildly different than our own world, or it might be so very similar, comforting, but with only the best or worst of what we have to offer. We pick and choose which worlds we travel to when we pick up a book off a shelf. For some of us, if we can’t find the world that is just right, just what we imagine it should be, we create our own.
The writing of those imaginings is much harder than just writing what I think about real things like life or politics, or what it is to be a mother/wife/daughter/sister/member of the human race. Those things are concrete. They dictate to me what I will write about them. But Fiction? Fiction requires me to dictate to the story what must be written. And that requires dumping out my mental purse for the world to see the little pieces of what I most value, of what I most desire, of what scares me most, and of what turns my mind on.
What I get off on, the real me, not the me that people see, or the one that I choose to show to others, but the one that lives in that car for two hours a day. And that, i think, is what is preventing me from writing more. I guess we all feel like we are freaks on the inside (and maybe on the outside too). It’s fear. Pure fear. Not so much of what others will think of me, but more of what I will think of myself if I see it laid out on paper. What if it is all there, and it isn’t even freaky? What if it is just uninteresting crap? A meaningless, cliched, sentimental, boring, shallow, poorly-executed pile of poo?
I’ve promised myself I’ll work on overcoming that fear. And the only way to do that is to put pen to paper, fingers to keyboard.
And so I shall write.
An Update on Jane
October 29th, 2013I thought i would post an update about my cousin Jane’s murder case. The man who killed her was sentenced today. I was going to just put the link on Facebook, but I know there are some folks who read my blog who aren’t on Facebook, and also, I just felt like i needed to write a little about it. I haven’t written about it all very much, but it is one of those things that stays with you, and reminds you that there is true evil in the world.
I know that will sound hokey, and i hope that if it does, you will never know what it feels like to have it touch your life, and that you can continue to think there is no such thing as evil. I hope you never experience the equivalent of being unable to put away leftovers in your own home without thinking of your cousin’s murder. I hope you never have to get a call and hear a loved one’s voice as they try to tell you what happened, or look in their eyes and see the complete shock and disbelief. I hope you never have to wait years to see one iota of justice, and i hope you never have to truly know what you really, deep down, when put in the situation, think of the Death Penalty. I hope you never have to sit in a courtroom with the person accused of killing your loved one, or know what it’s like to see him living and breathing while you look at coroner’s drawings of your loved one. I hope you never know this much about damn zip ties.
That stuff goes away most of the time, but then every once in a while it comes at you, and you still just can’t believe it is real and not some CSI Miami show.
It is truly magnificent, though, that when you see someone lost so suddenly and in such a tragic, violent way, that you are also reminded of how many lives they touched, how much of an impact each and every one of us can have on one another, and of how strong people can be in the face of unspeakable circumstances.
I will take away from this my wonderful memories of my cousin, of time spent in her warm, cozy home, of the wonderful weekend i spent with her when i was in college and visited for a weekend, of the time she and her brother, Finley, and Mom and I sat up until 3 in the morning and i wrote down every story they told, and of the times we spent with her when I was a child at my grandma’s apartment. I will never forget the last time I saw her, on Mother’s Day two years ago, when she gave my mom, Sister, and I the pleasure of her company for Mother’s Day Lunch. She was one of a kind. And as Rachel so eloquently says, she definitely “told it like it was.”
Some things run in families.
That is one other thing i will take away from this: I am so proud of my cousins for the way they have handled themselves throughout this all. I come from some strong people. Some damn strong people.
Chattanooga news story featuring my cousin Rachel, Jane’s granddaughter
The most recent post by my cousin on Justice for Jane.
Thanks to everyone who still continues to pray for my family and keep us in your thoughts, and who continue to ask for updates on the case, and who never met my cousins, but ask after them with true and genuine concern, and to all of the wonderful people whom I don’t even know, who take care of my cousins every day in their “real lives.” There is evil in the world, but there is also good. And i think the good always rises to meet the bad.
L-R: Cousins Nancy, John, Jane, and Virginia (my mama)
In Her Hand
October 16th, 2013
Seems just yesterday she was like this. . .
And here she is today. Brownie bridging ceremony at Stone Mountain Park Grist Mill. Almost 8 years old, 2nd grade, October 2013.
She’s eight. I’m no longer one of those moms with babies. Or toddlers. I’ll never have a preschooler or a kindergartner again. It’s sad, but so so sweet, too. She can run her own bath, and swim laps, and brush her own hair, and boy does she have ideas about how she wants her hair to look. She has beautiful, soft hair. It still smells good after a bath, but smells more little girl than baby. I know now why grandmas want to smell babies heads – it’s like crack. You get a whiff and you want it the rest of your life.
She’s in 2nd grade now, and reading stuff like Tales of a 4th Grade Nothing, and likes clothes and puppies and stuffed animals and jewelry. She likes reading and writing and homework, and god help me, crafts. She is sensitive and sweet and nothing like me. She wants to please us and her friends and her teachers. She wishes she had a sister. She still writes notes to Fairies, and believes in Santa and the Tooth Fairy. She still loves my hugs, and wants to be with me whenever she can. She sits next to me comfortably, and without pulling away. She is a Brownie. A swimmer. She has the most amazing smile, even with that little snaggle tooth. Her laugh is my favorite song. And she laughs a lot – she likes to make up jokes, and she likes it when we make jokes. She wants to be a vet. And a zookeeper. She likes math. SHE LIKES MATH. She makes up stories. She writes stories. She loves loves loves her Grandmas. She wraps Grandpas around her fingers with just a smile, or a hug. She adores Leah and Syd, Mia and Liliana, Rachel, and Gia, Nathan, Tristan, and Michael. She loves her brother, but god do they fight sometimes.
This week, at the lake, I watched her, and she didn’t know i was watching. She sat under a tree, and wrapped her arms around her knees, and gazed out over the lake. And I knew she was thinking. Just like I used to think under Connie’s dogwood tree. Or on the front rocker of our porch in New York. Like i still think when I lie on the boards of the dock at night and ponder the moon and the planets and the constellations. Sometimes she lies with me. Sometimes she holds my hand. She holds me in her hand.
MUSHY. Let’s talk about the party.
So, yeah, we had an old-school carport cookie-decoratin’ party. October birthdays might be the best.
Tiller loves beanie boos.
Watching tills open stuff.
Miss Chloe.
Lilian, I think? Tiller collects beanie boos and twins.
Yeah. Twins. Maybe Syd.. Gah. I have trouble when they are not together.
Boys focused on cornhole and that jumpie thing.
So, yeah, not sure what the deal was with the gems on foreheads. Hopefully not insulting to my Indian friends and family – They were part of the scavenger hunt treasure, and the kids started putting them on their foreheads. I like to think it is their multicultural upbringing that made them do this.
A rare moment of still sitting with this whirling dervish of a nephew.
My sweet girl. Best smile in the world.
He was pretty bored.
The basket and bell, because why would you make a girls’ bike that doesn’t have these? Where would you put acorns, rocks, bows, and beanie boos?
Just what all 8 year olds need. A messenger bag She loved this gift, and it actually looks really, really cool.
Chloe and Tiller, about to blow candles out.
My baby is 8. This cannot be. Also, i just ate the rest of that cake with coffee for 2nd breakfast. A pitfall of working from home.
Chloe always has the best expressions.
My sweet, tissue-paper pasty skinned, freckled nephew. I want to eat him up.
Leah, i think.
Yeah, that’s definitely me. With tills and . . . uh syd. I’m going with Syd.
My sister will eat some cookies.
Good sister, bad sister. Guess which one is which?
Pretty sure that’s syd, and leah. Syd on left. It’s like a puzzle.
These kids are just a bunch of peas in a pod.
Jimmies my ass. There were sprinkles. Lots of sprinkles.
Rollie doesn’t go for hugs anymore, not even from his Aunt, not unless his fever is at least 102. He’s ten now, you know. Way too old for your hugs.
We decorated cookies. Not a bad way to spend an afternoon.
Tiller wins.
I See the Future
October 15th, 2013No matter how many times I look at this, it fails to become less funny.
And this is a little freaky. . .
Afraid this is just a taste of the awkward middle school years.
Uh, yeah. . . We’ll be doing a retake.
Grey Kitchen: Not My Realm
October 9th, 2013Yep, it’s me. Dogwood Girl. I know, I’ve been MIA. I’ve been here all along, just not here here. I’ve been at a desk in Cumming.
Yes, i drive that far every day. Which is yet another reason we’ve lived here five years and still have the same wallpaper. I’m trying, people.
So, looking to get a little feedback on grey kitchen ideas. Comments and suggestions welcome, because this is so not my realm.