Good, hot coffee at Joe’s. Tiller and Rollie sitting on East Atlanta Santa’s lap, with not a tear. Meeting nice new people in my great neighborhood. Margaritas with the Reids and my family at La Casita Cantina. Mmmm. Pork Carnitas. . . .
Coming home and cuddling on the couch with my eldest, dozing to the sounds of him watching Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.
Bliss.
Todd and I took the kids over to his parents’ house on Lake Martin, where we did second Thanksgiving dinner (yes, we are complete Hobbits) on Friday with his brother Wade, brother Lyle, and Lyle’s wife Denise. Wade was on our shit list for not bringing my new niece, Luci, with him, but he made up for it by bringing her over on Sunday. I ate too much.
On Saturday, Todd and I had to get a new tire for the van, so we got up early to drive to the nearest Wal-Mart, which was in Alexander City (“Alex City” to easter Alabamians in the know). Dear God. Oh, the humanity of a small-town Alabama Wal-Mart on the day of the Iron Bowl! You couldn’t walk five feet without someone uttering a “Roll Tide” or “War Eagle” at someone else. People looked at me like I was a Martian, presumably because I was not wearing crimson, blue, or orange, and well. . . why is she not wearing one of those? I think it may have been inconceivable to them that there were other states outside of their own that day. On the day of the Iron Bowl, Auburn, Alabama is the center of the universe. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t actually care who won. I pull for Auburn when there is no harm in it, and I have definitely adopted my husband’s disdain for the Tide. Good God, there is nothing scarier than a female, middle-aged, bleached-blonde Alabama fan in person. Oh, yeah. And my trivia girls and I have a bit of wager with the Alabama graduate who runs our trivia at Graveyard Tavern. He will be footing the bill for our drinks this evening. I have no kids tomorrow. He should be frightened, very frightened.
After that, we had lunch with his parents and the kids, then headed into Auburn to pick up my friend Brett. Brett and I went to high school and college together and he is one of my oldest, dearest friends. I just don’t get to see him as often as I’d like, because he lives in Seattle. Brett has his own family ties to Auburn, so he was in town for the game, but is a Georgia fan, so we decided to meet up for tailgating and watching of the Tech game, and also Ky/Tn.
Despite the fact that Kentucky couldn’t pull off the win over Tennessee to send GA to the SEC Championship (which I guess actually gives us a higher bowl berth? Whatever. I am over trying to wrap my little brain around the BCS.), I had an awesome time watching with Brett, and with all of the Auburn and Alabama fans who may not have cared about the outcome of the game, but pulled for Kentucky with me, anyway. SEC fans are the best. They get it.
Afterwards, Brett headed to the game, and Todd and I went over to Iain’s in Opelika to watch the game. Mostly, i drank while they watched the game. We started tailgating around 2 pm and we stayed up til 2 a.m., when I stopped dancing and passed out on the foldout with my snoring Todd, and four dogs.
Sunday was hell. Okay, except for the part where I finally got to meet my first ever niece. She is adorable and cute and little and she doesn’t talk back or run into things and bust her head open. Oh, and my brother-in-law Wade makes a kick ass spaghetti with meatballs. Perfect cure for a hangover, and totally got me well enough to drive two chilluns back to Atlanta. That drive usually takes two hours, but because of Thanksgiving traffic, it took 3.5 hrs plus. I now know what my hell is: Driving in the dark fog and mist, for all eternity with two children screaming, crying, fighting, and singing, while the car lurches forward in 10 mph spurts and headlights blind me in rearview and my head throbs and my stomach churns and I am so desperate for sleep that I almost, almost pull over at Hogansville to get a motel room, just to put me out of my misery, but it would take me another 30 minutes just to get to the exit ramp, so I might as well push on.
UGA at #4. How the fuck did that happen?
More Iron Bowl pics.
We started with dinner at Coast. Very good.
Then we dropped Mom off at the hotel and headed to The Blind Tiger for drinks with the wedding peeps. It was funny, because I had been to this bar before, only a couple months after Todd and I started dating. His friend Kate was married at the same place that my friend Marc married at Saturday night, and the night after her wedding, everyone went out for drinks. We went to the Blind Tiger, where Kate passed out at a table in the courtyard. Ah, memories.
We had to wait a while for our friends, and Lisa is knocked up, so she was pretty much over it by the time they got there, but she perked up when she saw old friends and managed to stay out for a good while. I stayed longer, and had the pleasure of chatting with my old friend Pierce’s wife, Fowler, for a good long while. She is awesome, which I totally would have imagined for Pierce.
They next morning, Lisa and I headed out for coffee and shopping. We hit the Farmer’s Market, which really consisted of 
us oohing and aaahing over all the cute dogs people were walking around. The weather was perfect. We walked all down King Street looking at shops and I even saw real live fancy shoes at Bob Ellis. I think if I ever were rich, I would have a shoe problem. Plus, shoes and makeup are fun because they don’t make you feel fat. Lisa and I both bought matching heart necklaces and did the sister bonding thing. See how cute we are?
After that, we met up with Mom for lunch. It was a good thing we started looking for a lunch place 
when we did, because if we had waited any longer, Pregzilla might have eaten Meeting St. We went to Monza for pizza, because that’s what sounded good to the zilla. It was really good, and the service was great, and they played Wilco and Bloc Party, and once Lisa ate something, she was a human again. If any of you are paying attention now, you will realize that Lisa is wearing the sweater I wore on Saturday night. It is hers and really comfy. You will also realize that I am wearing the same shirt from the night before. I know! I packed like 500 things and did what I always do – Ended up wearing the comfortable tee. It’s my signature look.
After lunch, Mom and Lisa headed home to nap (?!!) and I found a 
bar with as many tvs as possible so as to assure that I saw at least the first half of the Georgia/Kentucky game. I sat with some lovely Ohio State fans, and some not-so-lovely Gators and Vols. Most people were watching Ohio State/ Michigan. I had to leave at halftime to go get dressed for a 4PM wedding. Evidently, people from the Carolinas and Texas did not get the memo about NO WEDDINGS IN THE FALL IN THE SOUTH. It was explained to me later by the Texan groom that they just don’t do weddings on Sundays, because of the Cowboys. 
Whatevers. UGA won, and I was spared the heart-attack and heartbreak-inducing Tenn/Vandy game. Arrrrgggggh.
Found the lovely wedding location, Lowndes Grove, with time to spare. I always wonder what Yankees think of the south when they see a place like Lowndes Grove. Do they think that Southerners are immune to the beauty of such a place? Do they think regular folks live in places like this? Not so. I am 
in awe whenever I am in a place like this. The weather was beautiful and the ceremony was timed perfectly to coincide with a lovely sunset over the Ashley River. Wedding went off without a hitch, even with that tricky “speak now or forever hold your peace” part. (Oh, the thoughts that went through my head just then, little Marky! Exploding hotdogs! Underage preteens passed out on my parents parquet floor! The never ending retaliatory prank calls the bride will endure!
Okay, here are the rest of the pics, taken before the reception was over and we got to the too-drunk-to-operate-camera, much-less-my-own-two-mysteriously-skinned-up-legs portion of the evening. Twas not pretty, but was better than my horribly-hung-over Sunday. Note to self: When drinking copious amounts at open bar, also partake of dinner buffet.
Me and Marc’s college roomie, Mitchell, who lives in Midtown.
Lisa, Fowler, and my Mom.
Two not-so-sober old acquaintances. I hadn’t seen John in almost 20 years. I think the last time I saw him I was cleaning up puke at Aunt Dot’s house. He was probably 15. Got to meet his wife, Ashley, a sassy and cute Aussie.
The reasons we were there – My mom and the Groom’s mom, Judy, who were childhood friends in Chattanooga.
Tomorrow morning, I leave for Charleston. My childhood friend Marc is getting married. I cannot wait to meet the victim, er. . . bride. Marc and his brother, Pierce, and my sister and I go way back; Our moms were best friends growing up in Chattanooga. We vacationed in Destin with them for years, visited them at their home and on their Grandfather’s ranch near Dallas, and when Pierce went to school in Chattanooga, I used to see him and his roommate when I was in town visiting my Grandma. We all exchanged emails recently, and Pierce’s roommate was saying how nice it would be to see me again. The last time he remembers seeing me, I “drove a convertible and had bought the Drivin’ and Cryin’ album that day.” We figured out that was about 1988. Yeah, nineteen years. Wow.
Marc is the last of us to get married. Pierce and I both have kids now, and Lisa is expecting. None of this adulthood crap matters much, because these are people who have known me long enough to remember me before I became the woman of grace and loveliness that I am today; They saw the gangly, pimpled girl with the sausage-rolled hair. They knew me when I had no boobs. They knew me when I liked Whitesnake.
It is going to be fun to have all four of us back together again this weekend, even though I won’t have them to myself. There will be merciless ribbing, and much, much laughter. And a whole lotta drinking. Look out, Charleston.
I had forgotten. This is what it looks like when Todd and I plan to go directly home after his Loud Music and Beers Book Club at the Flatiron, but then we decide to have one more beer at the Glenwood while waiting for our cab. We run into friends from college and old coworkers. Suicidal Tendencies on the jukebox. It gets a little messy. Good times had by all.
Of course, I am not feeling so awesome right now, and Todd is already War Eagling me, and I am choking down my first cup of coffee and we have to drive to Athens. There are big things on the line here, folks, both in the big football picture for the Dawgs, but also on the home front. We’re talking bragging rights for a year, which is a very long time when you are on the losing team. And there’s a little punishment in the works for the loser this year, but more on that after we see the outcome this evening.
Halloween was ultra fun. We carved the pumpkin (yes, I am a total slacker and waited till the last minute) and then went and had pizza at Grant Central. After that, we walked around East Atlanta Village for the Eav-O-Ween celebration.
All of the shop owners hand out candy to the local kids, and the people-watching is pretty fun. The kids were pretty cute, and I have to say that kids don’t get hipper than those who trick or treat The Earl and The Flatiron. Nothing like seeing your little ones waltz right up to a bar for trick or treating. Definitely beats the toothbrushes we used to get from Dr. Grove, the dentist who lived down our suburban street growing up.
After that, we came home and Todd traipsed the kids down the street, while I stayed back to drink beer, er. . . hand out candy. There is something so heartstring-tugging about seeing your husband walking down the street, holding hands with the costumed kids, their other hands gripping the pumpkins so tightly and with such purpose. I had a lovely time talking with the neighbors and then Todd and the kids returned, the kids dove into the candy, and we sat around talking some more, while handing out candy. Halloween in the hood is a little different than in the ‘burbs. The first few years, you are kind of put out by the older kids trick-or-treating (as one neighbor put it, if you are out on a date, you are probably too old to trick or treat) and the lack of discernible costumes, but you start to realize that it’s just the way that folks do things here, and you get into the spirit and go with the flow after a while. And I dare say that this year, it seemed like more people dressed up and that they were trying just a little bit harder.
Todd hosed the children down from layers of stickiness and put them both down. About nine, we closed up shop (lights out, candles out), and Todd walked down the street to check out the Gay Superheroes. It seems that the money house (what I call the neighbor’s house where everyone meets to party while handing out candy every year – a jackpot for the trick or treater) was doing a Superhero costume theme this year. I am sure they went all out and I should have sent the camera. Damn.
I’m drinking beer, fucking around with the Halloween photos, and listening to my Creepy mix. Decemberists’ Leslie Anne Levine is on right now. Awesome song. Awesome holiday.
I think I’m going to preemptively turn in my girls’ club membership, because after people read this, it will probably be revoked.
Todd is out of town. He went camping. In Perote. Yes, that is a real place. Pronounced “Pee-Rote.†It is somewhere in the wilds of Alabama. Okay, peeps, here’s the deal. I had tivoed Gossip Girl, America’s Next Top Model, and numerous The Hills and Real World episodes.
Maybe this is Freaky Friday – Todd goes to the middle of nowhere, no electricity or power, where he will not see football all day long. I watch football all day long. Color me Jamie Lee Curtis. Todd is Lindsay, of course.
I just spent the day between about 2:30 and now (11:13) watching football. I did nap for thirty minutes around 3pm. But other than that, I watched football. That is not unusual for me, as Todd and I often spend Fall Saturdays watching football. But tonight, you would think I would be doing the bottle of wine, husband out of town, guilty pleasure Tivo thing. Nope.
Football. I Could. Not. Turn. It. off.
LSU Kentucky. No, wait. KENTUCKY/LSU. Fucking awesome. I had Tiller and Rollie in their pjs yelling “Go Wildcats!†and “Big D!†on that last LSU possession. I even chose to watch those three overtimes over the Bulldogs game. Unheard of, but I really like Kentucky. I think they are a classy act, and I LOVE an underdog and an upset. And I kind of think LSU fans are pompous fuckwads this year, too, for the most part; Heberts and Lambremonts excused. I like to watch an LSU Tiger looking all stunned in the face paint. Good stuff.
Dawgs. God’almighty, they just about broke my heart last week, but they pulled this one out. Knowshon looked stellar in that last quarter. Me likey. I kind of want to make out with Richt when he does stuff like yell at the boys for celebrating too much on the field, and I though him apologizing to Vandy before the media or the fans could even start bitching about it was just another example of what a class act he is. So proud of him as coach. And, hey, if they’re gonna have an off season, a rebuilder, or what have you, this is as good a season as any, because the upset factor is keeping me pretty entertained.
Speaking of, Cal. Ha! Little freshman QB was doing okay, but he really choked there on that last play. The annoying part of this whole thing is that fucking Ohio State will move into the number one slot, and I hate them solely on my knowledge of one single Ohio State fan acquaintance. Buckeye Boy is more of a fuckwad than the whole LSU fandom united. Props to T’s Auburn boys for pulling out a tough one against Arkansas, too.
The really sad part is that even when I did watch some of my Tivo stuff, I watched Friday Night Lights. Nope, not kidding.
All in all, good football Saturday. Would’ve been better with a little company.
Oh, wait. . . I gots me a bottle of wine. Which just might secure retainment of my membership card, because I bet I’m the only football fan in Georgia that watched that much ball today while drinking red wine, rather than bourbon or beer. Maybe I’ll start the Bulldog Wine Club.
One last football footnote: (God, that’s cute. “Football footnote.â€Â) Must convince Nessie to go see Band of Horses with me tomorrow. Ben Bridwell likes him some Dawgball.
I’m post-dating this. Totally forgot to publish it on Saturday. Wish I had made BOH, but just wasn’t feeling like braving a 99X crowd.
Most of the time i feel like Dogwood Girl is a great outlet for me, a healthy exercise in purging my sick mind and all that. But lately? It is just another damn thing that I am not getting done. Who needs something else to make them feel guilty? I am not going to let it get me down. I will post when I can post.
But some things require taking the time. Like when one of your bestest friends, the one that introduced you to your husband, which resulted in your life becoming boring and parental, and yet you still love her, is getting married and you spend the weekend with the girls, acting trashy and pretending that you don’t have children or husbands. Much fun.
In case you haven’t visited the town, Helen is totally kooky, touristy, and a total fucking riot. Here’s a town where everyone drank the Kool Aid and decided to make their little town a theme park. With beer river tubing and taffy and Ye Olde Fudge.
We spent the weekend in a cabin, with a pool table, a panoramic view of Mt. Yonah, a hot tub, rocking chairs, four couches, and three tvs. Anyone who knows me can tell you that if you put me up with a pool table, a stocked bar, an IPod, and a hot tub, I might never leave. I watched Auburn beat out those detestable Gators while pounding beers, playing pool, and hot tubbing. It was awesome. We are even mature enough that we could afford a place where everyone had a bed. I shared a King with my little sis and I barely knew she was there.
This was the first Bachelorette party I have been to, i realized later, at which only the Bride-to-be was a Bachelorette. The rest of us were all Matrons. That is a little disturbing. Didn’t get in the way of the shenanigans, though. And as Lisa and I informed the others, we are still way cute when we drink. You can see evidence of this in the following picture, as Leelee exudes cuteness:
High points, other than aforementioned view and hot tub, were the excellent meals, and the company. Great group of girls. Okay, it’s a tossup – Girls vs. very frightening, nightmare-inducing Deer Anus Cyclops Head. It could go either way.
More pics:
Keri, Robbie, and Nessie:
Robbie solo, and with her very cool future Sis-in-law, Katie:
Et moi, basking in the heat of the tub and two beautiful field goals against the Fucking Florida Gators (Yes, this Bulldog hates them just. that. much.) And to top off a great weekend, on the way home, i met a couple of bikers on Harleys at the gas station. One of them asked me to go for a ride with him. He was cute in a pushing-50s, Marlboro-Man-gravelly-voice kind of way. I was tempted. It was a great day.
“I need to get back to Atlanta,” I said.
“I live in Atlanta,” he replied with a devilish grin. “I’ll take you home.”
“I can’t. I gotta get back to the husband and kids.”
“Ma’am, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see your ring. I didn’t know you were married.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “You made my day!”
And it did. We’re still cute, girls, even when we’re not drinking. And chivalry is not dead. At least not in the hills of North Georgia.
[Lisa, and anyone else who is familiar with it, please cue Urban Cowboy soundtrack in your head.]
* Beer upon beer upon beer + free Patron shots = Big headache + much shenanigans.
* Damn, I look good in a real cowboy hat. Not that straw shit, either. I mean the sweat-stained, dark, cowboy-like-John-Travolta, Texas cowboy hat.
* My husband can ride a mechanical bull. So can all the other Auburn boys. And a few of the girls.
* Cowboys are hot, even if they aren’t that hot. If you ask them, “How’d you learn to ride the mechanical bull like that?” they reply with a laughing look: “I ride real bulls.” Women swoon.
* I think I may have done something dirty with a sprinkler on Saturday night at around 5 a.m. Actually, I remember the sprinkler. The sprinkler and I were on our best behavior, despite some unsubstantiated reports otherwise; it’s everything that came after the sprinkler that I’m a little fuzzy on.
* Despite rumors of sprinkler sex, I am more modest than I thought; Evidently, I was the only girl in East Alabama on Saturday night who wouldn’t ride aforementioned bull because of wearing a skirt. I know. East Alabama is probably not the gold standard, but admit it, you all are reading this and thinking “I cannot believe that she didn’t ride that bull.” I wanted to ride the bull. I will never go to Alabama again with a skirt on, for fear of coming across a bull that I might happen to wanna ride. Cause I’m a lady like that.
* My Mama is right: I can drink too much, or I can stay up too late, but I cannot do both (well).
One reason that I have been slow to post of late is that my Internet has been sloooowww, too, and I like to illustrate my points with pictures and video (such as Todd riding the bull), but I sit around and pray and pray that God will increase my internet connection speed and he just isn’t listening. I am just kidding. I don’t pray for internet speed. That is silly.
Wish you could see the boys on the bull, though. I will try to post more. I promise, Nat.
Husband goes out of town and, in excitement over evening of unadulterated control of television, Annie drinks a complete bottle of wine over the course of the evening.
Very with it this morning at 7 a.m. when son pooped on potty (so proud!) and then came in and asked me to wipe his butt. Who needs coffee?
Waiting for nap time. For me. I need a nap.
I thought that I had learned that, as my Mama says, “The wages of sin are not always death.” For the non-Southerner, I believe that translates to “Don’t drink a shitload when you have to get up with two kids under four the next day.”