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Posts Tagged ‘Bulldogs’

I Knew They Would Break My Heart

Tuesday, January 9th, 2018
 

Truth is, I knew the Bulldogs were going to break my heart.

I knew because it was the logical end to the worst year of my life, the one where i met disappointment and fear and pain at every turn. The one where i just slogged through 365 days in a row, hoping it would soon be over and sometimes not caring how.

It’s behind me now, the hell that i went through in the last year. I did the right thing, and the hard thing, and I walked out of my house one morning and knew my life and the lives of those I loved would be changed irrevocably forever. And I knew that I had to do it to save myself physically and mentally, and to have a chance at saving us all. It didn’t work, not the way I thought it would, but i don’t regret trying. I did it and it didn’t work out and the world did not completely fall apart, even though there have been moments where it felt like it would.

I made it through the weirdness of living in a basement for 9 months, the shared silent house split right down the middle in alternating nights at home and nights making myself scarce, through the cold division of everything two people put together over 18 years, the day we told the kids, the signing of the papers, the waiting, and the terrifying unknowns of where i would be living.  I lived through the constant deflection of my family’s worry, my fear for my children’s well-being.

I lived through the surreal and daunting prospect of buying a house before I was really ready, the packing, the moving, the friend who just didn’t show up for me when I needed them most, the realization that they never would, and the friends who did show up whom I can never repay and to whom I am forever indebted. I lived through the vomiting, the sleeplessness, the ulcers, the near-debilitating sadness and depression, the million ways i numbed myself with drinks or food or tv or sleep.

I lived through the mortifying shame and guilt and self-hatred, and through other people’s pity and “I’m so sorry”s, their tears and their questions. I lived through those last weeks, packing the bare minimum and dumping it into a new and empty house, all while my job went completely to shit, i worked weekends and nights, and I found out I would have to drive to my office in every day, adding ten to 15 hours to my work week, and that i had only a few months to work out my childcare arrangements.

I made it through an August that felt like one never-ending horrible nightmare, one I could not wake up from, one that to get through felt like barely keeping my head above water in an ocean of cement, my eyes constantly on the horizon. If I could just get there, I might be able to breathe again, and maybe sleep, and stop trying to not feel anything.

I dumped all the boxes in the new house, received my final divorce decree two days later, woke up the next morning and flew to NYC, where I spent the first 12 days of my divorce almost completely alone in a city where you are never alone. I came home, and I started putting things together, getting used to my new normal, our new schedules, the homework and the dawning realization that this is real and it is forever and something I loved very much is dead.

I lived through the first week without kids, a very weird Halloween, a child’s birthday party as a single mom, the carpools juggled, and the feeling of having to do every possible excruciating red tape insurance/governmental/financial/legal/household task I have ever done, in my whole life, all in a month. 

I lived through the first holidays –  Thanksgiving without kids, Christmas eve playing Santa all by myself, Christmas night with no kids for the first time since my son was born, and the New Year’s Eve sadness of being alone, of going home alone.

I have never felt so relieved, for a year to be over and a new one to begin. And I have been positive and healthy, a little bit more every day. I have been getting back on my feet. In 2018, I have already achieved something i did not achieve in all of 2017 (and most of 2016, for that matter); I have had whole days where I did not break down in tears.

I woke up new, on New Year’s Day. And I know now something that I doubted for a very long time. The truth is, when it comes to pushing through the pain and the stagnation and the fear, I am strong. When it comes to realizing and seeking and speaking the truth, I am one badass motherfucker. 

I knew there would be more hurdles and I knew i would clear them.

So, I watched with growing amusement that my bulldogs were gaining ground, that they might make the big game. I realized that it would be hilarious for them to make the big game. We had sent my ex to the big game in California a few years before (different team for those non-readers); we had agreed if my team ever went, we would make sure i got to go too. But that wouldn’t happen now.

So, of course, after 37 years, the Bulldogs made it to a national championship. I could see it coming from a mile away. i enjoyed it, it helped me get through the first holidays on my own, and it was one happy thing in a sea of (mostly) pain. I started laughingly telling people that I wasn’t bothering hoping they would make it to the big game, but if they did make it, it would end in heartbreak. I knew not to bother daring to believe, because I knew it would not end well. I knew that the real poetic cap to my year was one last kick in the teeth.

And that’s just exactly what happened. There was no other ending that would have fit as well. Because every time that I have been down this past year, i thought, “This must be it. Rock bottom. This must be what rock bottom feels like.” And then something else would happen and i would just laugh hysterically that I thought it could actually be over, get better, that I might, just might, catch a break.

So, people will have to cut me some slack when I say that I am not quite happy and accepting of that loss yet. It wasn’t just a football game – it was wrapped up in a whole lot more for me. It sure would have been nice to have that game go my way, to have just one goddamn thing go my way.

The truth is, though, it would have been too perfect, too pat a hand, to finish it all off with a win. And now that loss is already in the yesterdays, with all the other losses I’ve experienced. Now I’m in the present, the today. i get to leave behind hope and expectation, and just take this new life one day at a time. I can leave the mistakes behind, stop looking forward with some endgame in mind, and concentrate on making each day good and seeing what happens.  I have a white, bright 2018 ahead of me, full of possibility and new adventure and challenges, and most of all of just being with myself, the me that I almost lost in the last couple of years, without all the noise of the crowd.

(But i probably could have done all that with a W, too. Just sayin,’ Universe.)

Recipe for a Good Weekend: The Five Bs

Monday, September 1st, 2014

I 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.

(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.

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.

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.

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.

The Bigass Bulldog Birdhouse Birthday

Friday, January 22nd, 2010

Why, yes . . . yes, I did get a $100 dollar Georgia Bulldog birdhouse for my birthday. Funny story behind that, which I will get to in a moment. But first, I have to say that I had a lovely morning, getting to sleep late, which for people with kids means eight a.m. (Screw you, childless folk.)

I woke up to Todd and Tiller climbing in bed with me (Rollie had already caught the bus), and Todd doing a darn good version of The Beatles’ “Birthday,” with Tiller grinning like a cheshire cat and a cup of coffee materializing on my bedside table.

Coffee. In. Bed.

Then I was informed that I should finish my coffee get dressed and go downstairs. I did, and I found this:

Hundred dollar Georgia Bulldog birdhouse with hydrangea and cards.

Hundred dollar Georgia Bulldog birdhouse with hydrangea and cards.

I was a little caught off guard. That is one big ass bulldog birdhouse. Did the Tiger husband really buy me a bulldog birdhouse? Is this a joke? (Also, let’s be honest. While I am a bulldog fan, I don’t want to be those people. You know, the ones who have UGA everything. That being said, if those folks at the lake ever die, I am so going to try to buy their huge Bulldog statue they have in front of their cabin, right on the lake.)

We opened the very sweet cards from the kids and Todd, and I oohed and aahhed over the birdhouse and the hydrangea. I asked Todd, “Am i really allowed to put the birdhouse in the yard?” It seemed to pain him as he replied, “yes, baby, you just tell me where.”

“Where on earth did you get it?” I asked.

“Echo’s garage!” Tiller replied with glee. “Echo” is what Tiller calls Mr. Echols, the old man who lives next door to us. Some things you just don’t correct, because they are too cute.

I stared at Todd and then the truth came out.

Mr. Echols likes to show us stuff in his yard. He has a friend, who made him a couple of birdhouses, huge wooden deals, kind of more on the side of what Todd and I call, “Country Christian” or “Ducks in Bonnets” style than cool and funky folk art Finster-style birdhouses. Meaning, not exactly what I would choose, but neat enough.

So, Echo was showing Todd the birdhouses and telling him about the friend who makes them, and all the different styles he makes. “He also makes Georgia Bulldog birdhouses,” he said.

Todd replied, “Oh, Anne would love that!” Being polite, you know.

So, a few days before Christmas, Mr. Echols pulled Todd aside to show him my new birdhouse. That’s right. He just went ahead and had the guy make me the birdhouse. FOR A HUNDRED DOLLARS.

Todd had already bought me Christmas gifts, and he didn’t want to hurt Echo’s feelings, so he decided the birdhouse would be my birthday gift.

And what a gift it is. . . I will never look at that birdhouse without thinking that my husband, the Auburn Tiger, is sweet enough to just cough up the hundred bucks so as not to hurt Echo’s feelings, and that he loves me enough to put up a bigass Bulldog backyard birdhouse for me.

Already this birthday is pretty bitchin.’ Thanks, Toddler!

The Streak Continues

Tuesday, November 17th, 2009

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

Horton's Drugs


After that, I took a gander at the burned out Georgia Theater. (I forgot to make my usual poke at Todd that I saw the Pixies there back in the day, and that he has to settle for seeing them come out on walkers in Chicago this weekend. I don’t know how he is gonna get by. The hardship!)
The Georgia Theater, November 2009

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 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!

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!

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.

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 . . .

Even the bulldogs want you to be sure you know for whom they are pulling . . .


One more comment about fashion, and then I will stop. IF YOU ARE WEARING BROWN BOOTS WITH A SKIRT OR SHORT DRESS, YOU BETTER DAMN WELL BE AT LEAST 5’7″ AND UNDER 130 POUNDS OR YOU WILL LOOK LIKE A COW. I am not kidding, ladies. Every girl under 25 in Athens, Bulldog or Tiger, was wearing a short dress or skirt with brown boots that come up to about halfway up the calf. We saw whole packs of these young ladies, and this was the main point that we came up with as a group. (By this time, we have been joined by our friend Annie and her boyfriend, Scott. Annie is Auburn folk, but Scott, God bless’im, is a Georgia fan, so I was not outnumbered.)
Fellows of the Peanut Gallery

Fellows of the Peanut Gallery


We also recommend longer skirts for the heavier girls, and dark tights look better with these boots. I will not be wearing my brown boots with a skirt ever again after this weekend. Only with jeans. Not kidding when I say that the brown boot/short skirt look is the “bow head” of the 2009 season. However, if you spend a lot of time with drunks, I guess it is okay: Both Todd and Scott became more lenient on the skirt length issue after a few drinks.
On their way to grab beer from the car.

On their way to grab beer from the car.


We sat and watched folks walk to campus until the sun started to go down, then walked to the car to get more beer to carry with us. One needs sustenance to get from downtown to the stadium on game day – it took us almost 45 minutes to get through the crowd, but the walk was enjoyable.
I love this time of day in Athens.

I love this time of day in Athens.


We made it down to Park Hall, with just enough time to drink a last beer. I must have spent a million hours on the steps of this building, smoking when I should have been in class, having crossword puzzle wars with Kevin. (The Red and Black had the easiest crossword puzzle ever. We would get it and then race to see who would finish it first.) I think this is probably where i met Vanessa and Robin, too, and when you think about it, if I hadn’t met them, i never would have met my husband. Funny how life works that way. So, it was fitting that we sat here and drank beer and people-watched some more.
Old Stomping Grounds

Old Stomping Grounds


I mostly posted this one because I like the light. I do not endorse tobacco use.

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 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 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 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 is the only picture I could get of me with Annie showing her face.


We finally finished beers (I say this as if I didn’t just about shotgun two in a row) and then made our way through the madness of Sanford to the stadium. There is something so surreal about a night game, and all of the people and their anticipation. We split up from Annie and Scott at this point. Despite all of my efforts, Scott did not ditch Annie and take me to his club seats with him, even though I would have been much more fun. His loss!
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.

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.

See up there in the very top of the left-hand corner? That is where we sat.


We made our way all the way up to our seats. I have to say that all of the folks in the Auburn visitor’s section were really polite and well-behaved. I am not saying they were not rabid, and I did have to give the evil eye to one dude who drunkenly kept on saying, when Rambo was lying motionless on the field, “I hope he’s okay, but that was a cheap shot. I mean, hope the dude’s alright, but cheap shot.” Over and over, while this poor kid was on the field, and they must have been taking the longest commercial break in history, because it felt like forever and we were starting to think the kid had died out there on the field. It was kind of strange to hear the whole stadium chanting, “Rambo! Rambo! Rambo!” as he lay there on the field. But overall, they were really nice. I wish I could say the same about the four bulldog fans sitting behind us. They were probably early to mid 20s. Not sure if they were students or not. Three boys and a girl. And one of them would not stop yelling obscenities. There was a gentleman sitting in front of him with his two sons, who were both under ten years of age or so. I guess the man asked the guys to tone it down. I turned around to hear the Georgia fan yelling at the guy that “there’s a law about bringing kids to night games.” The kids looked terrified. The father looked like he wanted to punch the Bulldog. The straw that broke the camel’s back for me was the three Auburn fans trying to ignore them, and the stupid girl sitting there giving the finger to the back of the father’s head, while one of the kids looked on. Todd thought it was stupid, but i went up and asked them to please start behaving themselves. The guy proceeded to tell me that kids weren’t allowed at football games, blahblahblah. The girl laughed at me. I am officially old, because i told them that their mamas would be ashamed of them. I apologized to the man and his kids and asked if they would like to come sit in our seats. They did move, and two Auburn fans thanked me. Todd was right; it was completely pointless to argue about it with dumb drunk kids, but it made me feel better anyway. Not long after this incident, Auburn ran the kickoff back for a touchdown, and I am pretty sure it was bad Bulldog karma that caused the whole thing.
Watching the game with Auburn folks is always interesting. I find myself cheering, but in a very firm, but sportsmanlike manner. There are usually a few other token bulldogs up there, too, and we give some high fives and the like. But really, I try to keep a pretty low profile, and just be polite. It’s pretty orange and blue up there!
This guy was uber-enthusiastic. I thought Todd might end up making out with him.

This guy was uber-enthusiastic. I thought Todd might end up making out with him.


It would be third down, Georgia, and he would turn around and rile the Auburn crowd up.

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.

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. She kinda scared me.

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.


After the game, we headed back to the car, and then drove out to Bishop to stay the night with our friend BT. He and some of the Auburn folks watched the game. I got the usual chilly reception from the die hard fans (I’m lookin’ at you, Kim!), but folks warmed up after I had been there a while. Or maybe that was the bonfire. We sat by the fire, drank beer, and looked at the stars. I ate leftover ribs and potato salad. Yum! And then my coughing overtook me and I had to head for bed.
Sweet, sweet sleep was finally had by me. Except not really, because I got the consumption and coughed all night.

Sweet, sweet sleep was finally had by me. Except not really, because I got the consumption and coughed all night.


I don’t know what time Todd and the rest came to bed, but it was late. The next morning, we got up and left for Atlanta.
Morning in Bishop, GA.

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.

Temporary Annullment Day: A Retrospective

Saturday, November 14th, 2009

What it’s like to be a Georgia Auburn Marriage: A retrospective. It ain’t pretty.

One of my favorites: 2005.

2006

2007 and more 2007.

2008

Tomorrow should be quite the clash of the titans.

Well, that pretty much sums it up

Sunday, October 4th, 2009

The least fundamentally sound team in the SEC.” Well, that pretty much sums it up.

A good read, fair and honest. And brutal. Thanks, Tony.

Please Dawgs

Saturday, September 12th, 2009

Don’t break my heart tonight. I can’t take it. It’s been a long, sad week. That started with y’all losing last Saturday night, it went downhill from there, and I’m counting on you to turn this thing around.

Love,
Dawgwood Girl

P.s. Extra points for making Spurrier throw his visor.

A Great Day

Saturday, September 5th, 2009

Storm Troopers and Sand People on Peachtree before noon. Listening to one of my favorite authors speak after a lunch over beer. Pouring myself the first Bloody Mary of the football season. Today is one of those stellar days.

Here’s hoping the Bulldogs keep my momentum going. . . .

Take All The Fun Out of It Why Don’t You?

Saturday, November 15th, 2008

Auburn and Georgia disappointed me so wholly this season that I don’t even feel any animosity towards my husband this morning.

That’s no fun.

I’m Doing It

Sunday, November 2nd, 2008

This year, I’m doing NaNoWriMo for the first time. It’s a pretty cool idea, actually, and I know a few people who have done it in the past. The goal is to write 50,000 words during the month of November. It doesn’t have to be good, or edited, or have a plot, but the goal is to crank out quantity. This, of course, scares me, but i am doing it anyway, because let’s be honest, I need a new hobby after the demoralizing ass-whupping the Dawgs took yesterday. So, you’ll be able to see my updated word count while I am writing during the month (just look for the nifty NaNoWriMo widget), and I will give updates on my progress throughout the month. This also means that I will probably not be writing lengthy Dogwood Girl posts this month, although I feel that this could be a momentous month politically, and that might just have to be blogged about. We’ll see how I feel come Wednesday morning.

Let’s see if this thing is working. (I haven’t uploaded any words yet to the NaNoWriMo site, but just trying to see if the thing is working.)

Oh, one other thing about NaNoWriMo: At first, I thought, well, this is going to result in a hot mess of crappy writing all over the world: What a crappy idea. Then I read that one of the novels that resulted from NaNoWriMo in the past was Sara Gruen’s amazing Water for Elephants. That pretty much blows my mind.