Summer of 2010

So weekly posts went to monthly and now they seem to have gone to quarterly...

What's my problem? I'd like to be able to say that my life is so glamorous that I just can't be bothered, but really now, who are we kidding?

The real reason I happen to have this evening free for blogging? I originally planned to spend it catching up on this season of True Blood via HBO On Demand at the home of two of my main gays. However, they forgot that tonight was the Miss Universe Pageant. And, well, all boys have to have their priorities. So I opted to stay home and watch the Titans game instead.

Yes, you are picturing all of this correctly. I am sitting on my couch watching Monday Night Football while a few blocks away two grown men sit watching Miss Universe, texting me with updates every ten minutes.

Anyway... there have been other things keeping me from posting. Grouchy things. Good and fun things. General life and stuff things. So here's a rundown of how I've spent my summer.

1. Sweating. This hot-as-all-frickin'-blue-blazes summer keeps sucking up my will to breathe.

2. Laughing. I have seriously funny friends and family members that I find myself being thankful for more and more in these crazy times. I went on a road trip with a friend and her two kids who kept me giggling almost constantly. My aunts came to visit and my family has a way of cracking ourselves up when a bunch of us get together in one room. I also attended a wedding with a group of friends - and an open bar - and imagine we'll be retelling stories and sharing pictures for some time to come. Oh, and I took a hoola-hoop class. So... enough said there...

3. Crying. The heat depresses me and makes me more of an easier crier than usual. Over my flood-damaged city. Over friends who've broken each others hearts and mine in the process. Over Story Corps on NPR every damn Friday. Over a newly adopted baby and her patient and deserving parents. Over a dead opossum in my yard. How I'm able to keep my body hydrated enough in this weather to form tears is beyond me, but somehow I seem to have managed.

4. Fretting. It's a never-ending list. Illness. The economy. Oil spill. Proposition 8. The upcoming college football season. But seriously... the big issue weighing on my mind lately is all of the hate-mongering over religion that seems to be brewing. It's likely what will push me from fretting over into fuming.

5. Sweeping. The dog hair in this house has reached epic proportions this summer. I've almost convinced myself to buy a loom and try to profit from this freak show. Keep an eye out for my wares on Etsy. I'm sure they'll be a huge hit.

So that's the season in a nutshell. I wish I had a groovy photo montage to share. I'm coveting an Olympus PEN digital camera so hopefully my autumn and/or winter will be well-documented. After all, I'll need to show off all of the hand-knit collie-blend scarves I'm planning.

In the meantime, I've just been informed that Miss USA did not make the top 15 and I apparently have some consoling to do. At least the Titans are winning...

Stuff You Probably Already Know But I'm Going to Use This Post to Ramble on About it Anyway

I now work for a very serious organization that does very important and serious things. And we all just got Skype on our computers. Ooooh Lordeee, it's been all kinds of nerdy fun over here this week.

Tourism is an important part of the economy here in Nashville. But do we really have to have tourists? Especially the dude that asked me for directions with a cigarette barely balanced on his lower lip. WHILE I WAS PUMPING GAS. And the couple in front of me in line at the barbeque place who had to have a seven minute discussion with the guy behind the counter: "The sign says pork. Is it a pork chop? No? What kind of pork is it? Pulled pork? What does that mean?" And it's only April. From now until September it's only going to get exponentially more special each month. It's a good thing I don't work in PR for the visitor's bureau: "Welcome to Nashville. Now, please go sit quietly over there until it's time for you to leave."

The original Tea Party was about taxation without representation. So... to those in charge of this new concoction of the Tea Party... bless your hearts... please change your name. You HAVE representation. It's just that you aren't happy about it. And that's fine. Just please call yourselves the Red Bull or the Mountain Dew Party or something else more fitting.

NPR is awesome. Van Morrison is awesome. NPR's discussing Van Morrison for an hour is way beyond awesome. Our local affiliate just recently switched from playing coma-inducing classical music all day between ME and ATC (you know you're officially a dork when you refer to NPR programs by acronyms...) to an all-talk format: On Point, Talk of the Nation, Fresh Air, etc. You would not believe the complaining that people have done about it. I don't understand. I mean, did they not just hear what I heard? Talking about Van Morrison. And the way all of your insides feel when he growls out those lines like "And IIIIIII want to rock yourrrrr Gypsy sooooulll" or "Sheee's. As sweeeeet. Aaa-aas. Tupelo honeeeey." For a whole hour. Made my day. Can you tell?

God's grace and forgiveness applies to everyone. But I am having a really hard time wanting this to be true for certain despicable owners of coal mines and "parents" who return their adopted children.

Things still really suck in Haiti. And it's about to start raining. A lot. Please don't forget about them. If you've been wanting to give money but haven't - or if you want to give even more - click up there on the right.

Dixie Carter's death is a huge loss and I am sad. But, I bet my friend Eddie is pretty psyched.

News of the Weird

1. It SNOWED!

A few inches even.

And then there was ice.

Then our infrastructure completely collapsed and everyone went sledding.

Well, the collapse of the infrastructure was a bit of an exaggeration... BUT I did try to go see a matinee movie on Saturday and the damn place was closed. CLOSED! Madness.

So we went to a little restaurant nearby on the off chance that it might be open- and lo and behold it was. Now I ask you. A tiny, locally-owned restaurant has enough supplies and employees who can get to work and bring out bread, make gumbo and pour large glasses of wine, but a ginormous movie theater - coughRegalCinemasHollywood27cough - can't scrounge up one person to turn on a projector and pour a Diet Coke? I mean, we even had our own cookies to smuggle in so we wouldn't have bothered them for snacks. Mercy.

Needless to say, after my wine and gumbo detour at 1:00 in the afternoon, I went home and was completely useless for the rest of the day. I did play with the dogs out in the snow. Elsie will root around in the snow. Then roll in the snow. Then run at top speed, stop short and shower Oliver in giant spray of snow. Oliver, however, will prance in the snow because his paws are cold. Then he will fling himself into the air and yelp when Elsie sprays him with snow. Then he will come and try to sit on my feet until I let him go back inside. Good times.

2. Blanche DuBois in Footie Pajamas

My niece started talking a lot more around Thanksgiving / Christmas. Cute little toddler-talk:

peeze (please)

again

bankit (blanket)

night-night

In the last couple of weeks though she's started stringing together more words but with a much more exaggerated Southern accent. Now, everyone in my family would sound like we have accents to anyone living anywhere else in the world, but compared to other Southerners, our accents are extremely mild. Somehow though (we think it must be one of her classmates or teachers) she's picked up this crazy drawl. It's like she's in some sort of Montessori preschool production of Streetcar:

Thee-uhs Du-ugh. My-y dawg. (This is Doug. My dog.)

Hay-elp (help)

Paynk (pink)

Puh-lay bawl? (Play ball?)

I babysat the other night and couldn't stop laughing. Totally hilarious.

3. Potato Bandit

Elsie is a bit of a thief. It's likely the herding dog in her. She mostly likes to steal socks or dish towels and usually ferrets them out through the dog door and then drops them into one of the holes in the yard. You know when she's stolen something because she tries not to be obvious and run through the house - but she's way too excited to be nonchalant and walk normally - so she does this quick little walk with tiny steps and rapid clicking of her toenails on the hardwood floors. Guests are often amazed when I have my back to her as she comes trotting through the living room, sock-in-mouth, and I loudly say "Elsie. Drop it." without ever turning around.

On Sunday I got up and made roasted red potatoes for a brunch later that morning. I came back from brunch and was talking to my mother on the phone when I heard an odd crunching noise coming from the bedroom. I went to check and there was Elsie, sprawled out on the floor with a raw red potato. She grasped it in her paws and nibbled it with her front teeth, then would ponder it briefly, turn it with her paws and continue nibbling. She finally noticed me staring at her, picked the potato up in her mouth and quickly trotted it outside, dropped it in a secure location and then came back in. I decided it wasn't worth putting on shoes and a coat to go out in the cold and chase down a half-eaten raw potato. I also reasoned that it couldn't have tasted all that great and therefore she wouldn't do it again.

Later that night I heard the same crunching noise and damn if she didn't have another whole potato. I went to the kitchen to see if she'd pulled the bag off the kitchen island and onto the floor, but the whole bag was gone. I turned on the outside light in the back and looked out into the snow-covered yard for signs of a mesh bag of red potatoes, but I didn't see anything. Not knowing how good it was for a 35-pound dog to eat at least part of two raw potatoes, I decided to take that one from her. She looked at me strangely, got up, trotted out the door and came back 30 seconds later with another brand new potato. Apparently there's a stash. And it's likely hidden in a hole under several socks and a dish towel. I took that one from her too and I'm going to check today and see if it's okay for her to eat raw potatoes. If so, I'll be tossing part of one into her bowl every now and then since she seems to enjoy it and it keeps her occupied for several minutes. Every time I think that dog can't get any more bizarre, she seems to find a way.

Week in Review - Cheers

1. Isn't it "The Enemy of My Enemy is My Friend"?? Oh Hell, Who Cares - Roll Tide...
Well, the Alabama Crimson Tide did indeed roll over the Gators. Thank goodness. Nothing worse than making yourself cheer for a team you don't like just to have them lose. Now they're playing for the National Championship and I will dutifully suck it up again on January 7th. Go SEC! I watched the game from my local dive bar (it has no windows or decent chairs, but several thousand dollars worth of flat screen televisions and my favorite local brew on tap). The crowd in the bar was all into the game and was decidedly for Alabama. Nashville is no longer made up solely of people who were born and raised in the state (we're very cosmopolitan now, y'all) so while a good bit of the patrons were likely orange-bleeders like myself, it's safe to assume there were fans of a good many different schools there as well. All united against a common enemy. Made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.


2. Perhaps I Need to Find a Meeting - or - Become a Local Business Investor
Speaking of said dive bar... I spent more hours in that one on Saturday than I should be admitting to the entire interwebiverse. Several friends very kindly helped my brother and me move the furniture we received from my grandmother to each of our homes. Afterward we treated them to fried things, beer and football at the bar. Some people could only stay for a little while and then left, then other friends showed up, then my mother and step-father dropped by, other friends left, and then more friends showed up. So yeah... basically I arrived there around 3:00 and left around 8:30. Thanks to Melissa for sticking it out with me the entire time - what a trooper!


3. Oh Yeah, That's Right - it's Advent...
Somehow I don't think the Baby Jesus had any idea he'd have to compete with football in the middle of the preparations for celebrating his birth every year. But, then again, since we can all probably admit that he wasn't actually born in December and the crazy Christians just co-opted Winter Solstice from the Pagans, maybe he would actually be down with watching a little gridiron action. Or, at least not be too terribly offended that while I turned down the lights, lit my two purple candles and quietly contemplated the season of Advent and the end of another year, I also did so while watching the Cowboys / Giants game. (It was on mute.)


4. One More Step Toward Being a Grown-up
One of the items passed down to me from Granny was a bed. A real, Big Girl Bed with a headboard AND a foot board, so that I can finally rid myself of the cheap wobbly metal frame that was left in an apartment I once rented and meant that the mattress set my dad had given me when he got a new set for his guest room (which meant I no longer had to sleep on a futon) would not have to sit directly on the floor anymore. Woo hoo. Yes, I am almost 40. Some other time we can discuss why I shouldn't be in any rush to get a flat screen television since my current model is the first one I've ever owned that didn't have dials...


5. Someone, Please, Just Club Me in the Head
I finished my year-long, torturous, tear-inducing, home renovation project like, what, five minutes ago? So, yesterday evening as I was arranging newly-acquired furniture and contemplating how I could spend the two weeks of vacation that start one week from today (yippee!) I actually thought - ACTUALLY THOUGHT - "maybe I'll sand and refinish the hardwood floors in my kitchen and take up the crappy tile in the mud room." Seriously. It may turn out to be a blessing that I have a tendency to spend too much of my available free time (and cash and brain cells) in a bar.


Seasons Greetings!

Week in Review - Giving Thanks

I was indeed thankful last week. Here's what for:

1. Travel and Quiet Weeks at Work
When I get back from a trip I'm not one to say "I'm never getting on plane / staying in a hotel ever again!" No, I immediately start rooting about on the interwebs trying to figure out the next place I can go and how long before I can afford to go there. One of my friends and I spent some time on the flight back from Vegas perusing the Southwest Airlines cocktail napkin that had a map of all of their airports printed on it (we were bored and did not want to watch Twilight again on the other friend's iPhone). This same friend and I have also talked about going to Peru so when I got to work on Monday - with only a three day week and not much to do, here's what I discovered:

• Peru? I could spend a pretty cool week in Peru for about $1,500. Not too shabby.
• Italy? I'd go there once a year if I could afford to. Cheapest city to fly into right now - Rome. But even that was $900+. Ouch.
• Good ole US of A? I priced flying to Chicago and taking a train from there to Spokane or Seattle and stopping mid-way-ish at Glacier National Park for a couple of days. Six words: More. Than. A. Week. In. Peru. Granted, if I wanted to sleep sitting in a chair on the train instead of reserving a sleeper car, then it would have been cheaper. Something has to be done about the convenience and affordability of train travel in this country, people! Anyway - another rant for another post...
• Cheaper alternative? Fly to Denver, rent a car and drive to Yellowstone and Grand Tetons National Parks. Could probably do two weeks for the same - or less! - than the train trip.

2. My Grandmother
She recently moved to an assisted living facility here in Nashville and has been less than pleased. She also has a way with words. Many of them are not quotable here in blogland. We ate lunch with her at her new home this week and here was my favorite quote: "Roger [my dad/her son] took away my car. Said I wasn't allowed to drive anymore. I drive okay. Just have to keep one eye closed." Good times.

3. Non-Traditional Thanksgivings
I have a love-hate relationship with traditions. Generally speaking, I love them, but over the years many of the traditions I've grown to dislike revolve around certain "family" holidays. Where you're supposed to sit around the table with various relations and pretend that you're not all bat-shit crazy simply for the sake of tradition. I'm over it. And I think if Norman Rockwell were alive today, he'd be over it too. In fact, I think his next cover of the Saturday Evening Post could very easily have been of my Thanksgiving dinner this year. The meal: a beautiful array of all the traditional Thanksgiving dishes. Seated around the dining room table: six people - none of whom were related except those that were married to each other. Most of us had already participated in our "traditional" Thanksgiving meals earlier in the day or week that ranged from mildly annoying to really sucky. This one, however, was filled with good conversation, laughter, friendship and good ole fashioned merriment. No passive-aggressive behavior, snide remarks or years of pent-up hostility. Not to be all smug, but I think this is more of what Thanksgiving was intended to be. The lemon martini thingies we had didn't hurt either.

4. A Good Season
I know I go on and on about my beloved Boys in Orange, but I do need to give thanks for them. They've had a hard few years and this season was no exception - a new coaching staff, problems on the field, problems off the field, problems with other coaches. The list goes on. We end our regular season 7-5. On paper that's not the greatest, but I couldn't be more thrilled. They tried hard, they played smart, they learned from their mistakes and they never gave up. They could be 5-7 and I would still be as happy. This past Saturday in their win over Kentucky they did give me a flash-back to two years ago (speaking of Granny), but we all survived. So, for that game and every other game this year, I thank you. Hope you get to go to Tampa for your bowl game. But, if you should end up playing here in Nashville, I will be there with bells on. Orange bells at that.

5. Digital Cameras and Our Beautiful Country
I remember the days of non-digital cameras when I was (briefly) a photography minor and a photographer for our school paper. And I remember the anguish of ruining roll after roll of film while trying to process them in a dark room. And I remember the disappointment in crappy photo after crappy photo on those rolls that I didn't ruin. But no more! Go ahead - take a hundred pictures! Delete the ones that suck! Take more! Upload them to Flickr! Life is good!

So behold - vacation picture highlights! I did not include pictures of Las Vegas - only of Red Rock Canyon. I didn't actually take that many pictures of Las Vegas for some reason (no, I was not drunk) and the ones I did take are mostly of people's faces. And I have a pact with those people. It isn't "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas," but rather, "My picture shows up on your damn Facebook page - your picture goes on my blog." So, unless someone violates that pact, I give you only pictures of beautiful rocks and desert plants.

Hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving!

Week in Review - FOR MELISSA

Jeez - you make one declaration that you're going to make weekly posts and then some people start to expect it...


1. An Explanation

Some of you have wondered about my disdain for Elmo. Well, his high-pitched baby-talk is annoying and the fact that they now devote a third of the show to him is even more so. (Yes, if I am home sick I enjoy watching Sesame Street. Or used to...) Besides, what the hell was ever wrong with Grover, people!? Well, earlier this week NPR explained it all. To compete with the onslaught of annoyingly-voiced kids show stars around that time, Sesame Street had to come up with something to go up against the likes of Barney. And that's what they created. And I realized in that moment that is precisely why I dislike him. He's a tiny, furry, red Barney.

2. Grass is Always Greener

It was inevitable, really. Prior to the Great Gutting of Gert's Living Room 2008-09 I had a small, unpaid, part-time job reading design, decorating and architecture magazines and websites. I also constantly suffered from house envy. But once the GGGLR began (Hmmm, pronounce that acronym and it sounds like someone drowning. Coincidence?) I really had no desire to read how easy it is to hang crown molding or recover an antique chair with vintage curtains you find at the flea market.

Well, now that GGGLR is mostly complete, I have dipped my toe back into the glossy pages and interwebs and damn if my house envy isn't back. One of my favorite websites for this is Apartment Therapy. Why "Apartment" Therapy I do not know, because it's mostly small houses. Small, real houses where real people live. And this week there it was - my newest victim of house envy. A restored bungalow with the perfect mixture of craftsman, mid-century and art deco furniture. Comfy rooms in earthy colors where nothing is overly matched but it all just sort of goes together. My favorite was the busy, hodge-podge kitchen that looks like people actually cook in it. And that pot rack? Fantastic. If Marie had only seen this, she could have found a use for Jess's coffee table and let him keep it.*

3. Groundhog Day? Please?

Most of this week was just irritating as all hell. Nothing horribly bad. Just annoying. Tuesday especially. Because the only thing better than over-sleeping and running out the door dressed like an eight year old boy, is doing so with wet hair AND meeting your neighbor's new - and cute - housemate who is friendly and wants to chat while you're running late and look like a drowned rat / eight year old boy.

Then there was much website drama at work that afternoon. Which I handled oh-so maturely by sending my boss an email at 4:59 explaining said drama and then promptly turned off my computer and ran from the building like a big fat chicken...

Where I then got into my car and drove to my father's house so we could divide up all of the furniture and such that my grandmother didn't want to take to her new apartment. And of course that all devolved into drama - as these things often do when people transfer years of feelings and emotions onto inanimate objects instead of dealing with them like mature adults.

So yeah. A do-over for Tuesday would have been nice.

4. A New Low

So here I am on a Friday night babysitting and I just finished reading the new Vanity Fair with Robert Pattinson on the cover. I am officially 12. But, can I just say... yum! I have some friends, who will remain nameless (because they are big perverts!) who think that Taylor Lautner - the other male lead in the Twilight movies - is rather nice (and 17!). Well, they can have their buff, tan, shirtless (and underage!) wolf-boy. I will take a pale, scruffy-faced, messy-haired, vampire-man in a cable-knit sweater and wool pea coat over that any damn day. We're drawing names for Christmas gifts in my family this weekend and to the person who gets my name - I will gladly take enlarged prints of any of these so I can like totally frame them and like hang them in my locker...

5. Tumbling Down

So Monday was the 20th anniversary of the demise of the Berlin Wall. One of my very dearest friends grew up in what was once East Germany so it gave me a tangible reason to think about this event off and on throughout the week. Way more than I probably would have otherwise. And it made me realize how different our lives might be now if it hadn't happened. And how world-changing events don't just affect the big picture, they affect things and people on a much smaller scale for years and years after. And how all of us - no matter where or how we grew up - really aren't all that different when you get down to it. So Claudia, if the Wall coming down means, if nothing else, that I now get to enjoy a cup of coffee and/or a glass of wine with you every few days, then for that I am thankful. Happy Anniversary.


* If someone (other than Katie!) knows what I'm referring to, then you get a gold star in your pop culture crown.

Red Letter Day

1. According to my trusty iGoogle page it's "Old Maid's Day" AND "Hug Your Cat Day." Ironic, no? I seem to have half of this holiday covered. Good news. Hopefully two neurotic dogs will be adequate substitutes for the rest...

2. Most importantly, however, today marks another birthday. An actual, non-celebrity birthday. The birthday of my dear friend, Todd. It's a milestone birthday and to celebrate he rented a house on the top of a small mountain about an hour outside of Nashville and invited 20 or so friends and family up for this past weekend.

It was this huge, rambling, century-old home full of mismatched furniture, antiques, random mementos and art, sloping wood floors, giant clawfoot tubs with no showers, and an odd assortment of monkey-themed decor that I won't go into, but suffice it to say, all together made quite the fantastic setting. It constantly felt like you were maybe in movie - where everything was just this unique and picture-perfect moment. In fact I did comment that it reminded me of a specific movie with a similar setting and at one point late on Saturday night I believe I drunk-texted Katie to tell her so. Only I forgot that text-to-email messages don't include your name so she had no clue who the hell I was (but really, Katie, who else would text you on a Saturday night to mention a movie that only you, me and ten other people saw)...

Not everyone who came up stayed for both nights - and some just came up for the day on Saturday - so there was always someone new to meet and a different conversation to be part of. Tables scattered about the porch and lawn were constantly full of drinks and snacks and buffets of delicious pasta salad and chicken salad and pimento cheese sandwiches. Martha Stewart would have been proud.


The weather was absolute perfection. I think I spent a total of 30 minutes inside on Saturday (not counting the few hours when I managed to find my bed) and I can't remember the last time that ever happened. There was croquet and cornhole and hula hooping - even an arts and crafts table - and lazing about on an enormous swing on an even more enormous wrap-around porch, or sunning yourself on the edge of the bluff and then watching the sun set over the farms and town in the valley below.

I love that our croquet game came complete with a little table for our cocktails.
Lord knows how much longer the game would have gone on if we'd all had to play one-handed...

My very first game of cornhole. I've resisted this activity because, seriously!?
That has to be the most ridiculous name for a game ever. It is pretty fun though.
And unlike croquet, you play one-handed. Advantage: cornhole.


I try to avoid posting close-ups of friends and family on the interwebs
unless they've given me permission. But that's the birthday boy there
on the right showing us his mad artistic abilities, so I couldn't resist.



Those are well-placed tiki torches there in the foreground.
They marked the edge of the bluff and came in especially handy during a
star-gazing-turned-yard-nap activity late Saturday / early Sunday.

Much like a wedding reception, it was one of those occasions where someone's circles of friends and family converge all in one space. When that happens there is a high risk of it all ending poorly - but it didn't, not in the least - most likely as a testament to the kind of person my friend is. Which is to say he is one of the most genuinely good and wonderful people I know. If this past weekend is any indication, he's in for a great year. And it is well deserved. Happy Birthday.

Have I Mentioned...

1. That I'm in the process of tearing out my living room ceiling?

It's an older home with a plaster ceiling that, back when it was a rental house/crack den, the former owner/slum lord had - in lieu of just drywalling over it or (God forbid) repairing the plaster - nailed panelling over it and then glued ugly little paperboard ceiling tiles to the panelling ('Cause what? JUST panelling would have been tacky?). So last week my brother and I ripped down the tile and panelling and over the weekend I began ripping out the damaged plaster and lathe.

The plan was to rip all of it out - good plaster and bad plaster - and then take a gander at what the exposed ceiling looked like to see if we could leave it all cool and groovy and exposed and put in a ceiling fan and other things... But of course it turns out that we can't even put in a ceiling fan because the house that I was told had up-to-date wiring only has up-to-date wiring for one outlet so that it would pass codes. The rest is all knob-and-how-the-hell-hasn't-my-house-burned-to-the-ground-yet-tube-wiring. PLUS, the space above the ceiling is also woefully lacking in insulation and what is there is this ancient black, sooty crap that comes crashing down on your head during demolition and embeds into your pores. So now that I'm going to have to pay to have the whole room rewired AND have experienced the joy of what I would look like if I worked in a mine, the plan has been revised from cool and groovy to just patch it, drywall it and lets move along... Grrr....

I do, however, have a very odd crush on the guys from This Old House (Nahhm, Tahhm, Rahhgahh, Richahhd, and cutie host, Kevin O'Conner) and am wondering if they might consider venturing out from their beloved New England to come down South for a little house repair / cultural exchange. They could do something crafty with my living room and I could cook them grits and okra, teach them how to say y'all correctly, and sing a few bars of "Coal Miner's Daughter." It would be lovely. (Yes, I know, I wouldn't begin to know how to cook grits. Or okra. Or sing. Humor me!)

Who knew that one day my Shaun Cassidy poster
would have competition like this?

2. I'm going to be walking 60 miles in October.

Yeah. Seriously. The things I get myself into... If you're a long-time reader, or have lots of free time, you might have read/remember my inaugural post last year about going to see my Aunt Jean and our friend, Lynn, in the Atlanta 3-Day walk to fight breast cancer. Somehow, as I'm still not sure exactly how, I was coerced :) into walking this year. I'm actually very glad I'm doing it - it just all seems to be a little daunting at times. It does sound more enjoyable than home renovation at the moment though, so I guess everything is relative...

Anyway... we formed a team - Jean, Lynn, my mom and me - and have been training for several weeks now. And we've got our own website / blog. AND we have to raise money. So, if you're interested in visiting our site (or maybe even donating a little something) - go to FourWomenWalk.blogspot.com. If you're interested in learning more about the event, click here. And, most importantly, if you or someone close to you has been affected by breast cancer and you would like to add their name to the list of women we are walking in honor, and in memory of, I would love nothing more than to add their name to our site and probably to a T-shirt of some kind when we get closer to the event.

So, that's the news from this end of the world. Anything unexpected in yours??

Omission #1

On Monday I also went to my father and step-mother's house for dinner. Got to see a step-brother that was in town on business, AND got new pictures of my niece.

My step-mother - she's quick with that camera. I narrowed down my choices to two from oh... maybe 612. By the time Mak turns one we should be able to assemble one of those little books where you bend it back and let the pages flip by quickly so it looks like a little movie. "See the baby grow right before your very eyes!"

But for now, here's the trailer:

I've Been Tagged....

... by Katie. But I'm not hip to blog vocabulary and not quite sure what that means.

I'm guessing it's either A: along the lines of "tag, you're it!" or else B: something along the lines of what park rangers do to antelope so they can be tracked.

We once seriously discussed piercing each other's ears when we were like 11 so I'm hoping it's A.

More important than what it is, however, is that it involves me making a list. And I can't think of anything I'd rather do than make a list on a Monday morning - or well, any time of the day or day of the week for that matter.

Only problem is that in yet another attempt to cut down on the Diet Coke addiction, I've accidentally OD'd on coffee this morning and now my brain feels like it's been swapped with a Chihuahua's.

So, I'll answer these questions, but the only thing that might actually get typed is "Yo quiero, Taco Bell." We'll see.

4 Jobs I've Had:
1. Waitress (and every other job imaginable in a restaurant.)
2. Pier One employee / organic grocery stock girl (I group them together because both involved me organizing and arranging things on shelves for most of the day. Dream jobs.)
3. Camp Counselor
4. Being micromanaged by a bipolar control-freak from 705 miles away. (yeah, I could have just rounded off to 700 - but the extra 5 somehow helps me to cope.)

4 Movies I've Watched Over and Over:
1. When Harry Met Sally
2. Bridget Jones Diary
3. Roman Holiday
4. Monty Python and the Holy Grail

4 Places I Have Lived:
1. Hendersonville, TN
2. Granville, OH
3. Athens, OH
4. Nashvegas

4 Shows I Watch:
1. The Office
2. Ugly Betty
3. Grey's Anatomy
4. Friends re-runs

4 Places I've Been:
I'm going to assume this means exotic locales and not, like, the grocery store
1. New England (again, I'm grouping, but I saw all of the little upper northeastern states in one vacation and it was all very quaint and scenic and extremely Caucasian so I'm counting it all as one place. What!?! Like they don't think of the South as all one place...)
2. NYC
3. London
4. Italy

4 People Who E-mail Me Regularly:
1. The bi-polar control-freak (see above)
2. Katie
3. My mother
4. Claudia

4 Favorite Things to Eat:
1. bread
2. pasta
3. bread
4. pasta
If they'd just open a carbohydrate detox facility, there would be no need for an intervention, I would go voluntarily.

4 Places I'd Rather Be:
1. Italy
2. Sewanee
3. St. George
4. The Container Store

4 Things I Look Forward To This Year:
1. LOST - this Thursday, baby!
2. Going to the beach
3. Figuring out what I want to be when I grow up
4. VOTING!!!! 281 days and counting. I think I'm looking forward to this day more than I did for my 21st birthday

I guess now I'm supposed to "tag" some others. But the only person I communicate with on a regular basis that also has a blog is Katie. Maybe my - ahem - "lurkers" (and you know who you are) could post theirs in the comments section...

OK... off to find more coffee...

As Promised...

My new niece decided to extend her hospital stay... well, a bout of jaundice and a Strep A infection extended her stay.

We tried to tell her that it wasn't a spa and she would probably be much happier at home, but what does she know? Prior to this she lived in a giant water balloon and ate dinner through her belly button. Heat lamps and an IV of antibiotics probably seem pretty swank at this point, and well, not having a fully-formed cranium tends to impair your judgement. Just ask Paris Hilton.

But she's on the mend and is planning to come home shortly.

In the meantime her parents have been good little photogs and taken more pictures.

So, as promised, I give you Makenzie Adams. Or, as the list of nicknames continues to grow: Mak, Baby Mak, MakMuffin, Zee, etc.

So far she kind of looks like her dad and has inherited her Aunt's legacy of having her name misspelled on a pretty regular basis.

All in all. We kind of like having her around.

Oh, and, I was rightfully corrected by Katie on my previous post and I actually had been "upgraded to Aunt" by her children already. But, as she pointed out, "this one can ask you for money."

Other Aunt duty I was reminded of by my sister-in-law, the Friends-loving and Friends-quoting pal that she is: "I will always have gum." - said Monica when she met her new nephew, Ben.

So, money and gum. I should be able to handle that. Well at least one of them...

Breaking News...

I've been upgraded to Aunt.

My brother and sister-in-law had a baby this morning.

A girl.

6 lbs, 14 oz.

20 inches long.

I saw her right after she was born, but I'm waiting to post a photo until she's a little less purple and covered with goo.

Scenes from a Grandmother / Grandaughter Weekend

OK, so this post is also about football. But here in the South - or at least in my family - you better know your football regardless of your gender or else you're going to be pretty lonely come Saturdays in the fall. And even if you're one or two of the four people who read this blog and DON'T like football (and you know who you are!), you might still enjoy a window into the weirdness that is my family tree.

This past Saturday, Tennessee played Kentucky and it went into QUADRUPLE FREAKIN' OVERTIME. I watched the game with my Grandmother, who I will just say, is one of the greatest and most unique grandmothers around. She is many of the traditional grandmothery things - a good cook, a good hostess, spoils her grandchildren, etc. So, it wasn't until I was in my late teens/early twenties that I figured out that she also enjoyed a lot of what, it turns out, are actually non-traditional grandmothery things, like smoking and cussing and drinking and gambling and watching sports. Who knew? But I digress...

The game: it was all kinds of exciting with unexpected and wacky things happening. Thinking about all of them now, I'm sure they're no longer as accurate or in quite the right order any more, but for the rest of eternity, here's how it will replay in my mind:

First Half
Tennessee is off to a great start. Touchdown on the first play.

Woo hoo! I'm enjoying this. Let's peruse one of the "Better Homes and Gardens" Granny has on the coffee table whilst we watch. Oh look, how to make your own Christmas stockings from dish towels...

Tennessee's touchdown is followed with another touchdown, a field goal and yet another touchdown. Half time.

My Grandmother and I discuss what we'll have for dinner after the game is over.

Second Half
On a long pass by Kentucky, their receiver and our defender simultaneously jump high in the air to try and catch the ball. With their arms interlocked, they both grab the ball at the same time. They both come down still holding onto the ball. They both fall to the ground, still with arms interlocked and death grips on the ball. Turns out that if two players simultaneously catch the ball and neither loses possession, the offense gets the ball.

Seriously?!?! Learn something new everyday, I suppose...

Then there are lots of other exciting events. Passes are intercepted, quarterbacks are sacked, penalties are called and the Wildcats eventually catch up. And before we know it, with less than a minute left in the game, Kentucky is about to score a touchdown and win.

How did this happen!?! Oh yeah, that's right, it's happened two other times this season.... I start to feel a bit nauseous and there's a throbbing in my head. It could be the game, or it could be my Grandmother's chain smoking or the fact that she keeps saying she's sure we're going to lose. OR it could be that I know my fate once the game is over is not to watch the Mizzou / Kansas game, but instead a Hallmark Channel movie, A Grandpa for Christmas. No. I'm not kidding.

On first down they throw to the end-zone. Incomplete, but with defensive pass interference, so they're moved closer to the goal line. We stop them on second down and on third down their quarterback drops the snap and is unable to get it together in time to score so they have to kick a field goal to tie and go to overtime.

Overtime. OK, I can handle a little overtime. Granny, however, says we should have just gone ahead and lost in regulation because we're just going to lose in overtime now so what's the point. I reminder her, with clinched teeth, that good Volunteers are faithful and positive Volunteers.

First overtime
Kentucky scores a touchdown and the extra point. Tennessee scores a touchdown via a reaching, twisting, diving catch in the corner, near the sideline which has to be reviewed because they're not sure he kept control of the ball. He did. And they make the extra point. Tied again.

I've now chewed part of my bottom lip off and can feel several hairs on my head turning white. Again, it could be the game, or it could be that my Grandmother has announced that, again, we are going to lose so she's just not going to watch the game any more and then goes about checking her numbers for the various football pools she has money on. I take a glance at the end table that separates us to make sure I can get to the remote if she decides to make a break for the Hallmark Channel.

Second overtime
We fail to score on our possession and Kentucky is unable to score a touchdown so they try to win the game with what looks to be an easy a field goal.

Darkness descends upon the land.

I've taken to chewing on the cuff of my sweatshirt so as not to chew completely through my bottom lip. Granny declares "they're going to kick that field goal and beat us." I finally lose my patience and (lovingly) yell "WELL MAYBE THEY'LL BLOCK IT, GRANNY! DID YOU EVER THINK ABOUT THAT?!?"

And then, as if the heavens were listening, one of the shortest defensive lineman on our team jumps in the air AND BLOCKS THE KICK!!!!

I think one of my lungs just collapsed. But I manage to pull together enough oxygen to yell "WHAT'D I TELL YOU!!! NEVER GIVE UP, GRANNY, NEVER GIVE UP!!!" She's seems very happy, but I have a feeling I'm out of the will.

Eric Berry catches the blocked kick and is off and running toward our end zone for the touchdown, but is immediately - and brutally - yanked to the ground by his face mask. HOWEVER, because the heinous action occurred during change of possession in overtime, blah, blah, blah, and Jupiter is aligned with Mars, blah, blah, blah no penalty is assessed.

WTF!!! Fine. Whatever. I'm too exhausted to yell expletives at the referees. Bring on OT#3...

Third overtime
Kentucky scores a touchdown and has to try for the two-point conversion, but they miss. Tennessee scores a touchdown. They try for the two points and almost make it but Arian Foster can't hold onto the ball inbounds, and after the play, flings the football into the air out of frustration.

I'm with you, buddy, flingin' the TV Guide.

Unfortunately, that is considered unsportsmanlike conduct. But wait, the flagrant and vicious face mask take-down from earlier isn't a penalty, so we're good to go, the penalty won't be assessed, right!?! NO!?! Apparently dead ball fouls in overtime, blah, blah, blah, the square root of pi times the area of an isosceles triangle, blah, blah, blah, the penalty IS ASSESSED 15 YARDS!!

WTF²!!! I was still trying to figure out the whole, "when two players catch the ball at the same time and maintain control...." from back in the second half, let alone the previous bit of nonsense about the non-face-mask-penalty (which, have I MENTIONED, was flagrant?!?). I then place a pillow over my head so that I may either muffle my own screams of frustration or smother myself in a few seconds.

FOURTH OVERTIME
Good Gravy, I'm exhausted. Bring on A Grandpa for Christmas. I can't take any more...

I realize though that I need to just suck it up because my Boys in Orange are now into their fifth hour of playing and to add insult to injury, have to start on the 40 yard line instead of the 25 because of the penalty.

OH BUT WAIT... the first play and our quarterback throws an unexpected long pass to some guy I've never heard of - who we find out later, RAN THE WRONG ROUTE - but still manages to catch the ball and run it in for a touchdown. And they get the two point conversion.

Sweet Fancy Moses. I think I might pass out.

Kentucky drives down to the half-yard line and then barely gets in for a touchdown. But best they can do now is tie and extend our agony to a fifth overtime.

However, we all know what color God wears on Saturday, don't we? If not, I'll give you a hint. It ain't blue.

On the two point attempt, Kentucky's quarterback can't find a guy open and starts to run it in himself, but is sacked and fumbles the ball. Tennessee recovers. Game over. We're going to Atlanta. Let the mayhem begin.

I high-five Granny who yells,"I knew they would win!"

Some images from after the game, courtesy of http://www.govols.com/, http://www.utsports.com/ and http://www.tennessean.com/:

Philly and Coach Trooper Taylor when we won.

Lucas Taylor, after the game, with a tear of exhaustion
and/or elation streaming down his cheek.

One of our players who went to celebrate with the
UT fans after the game and was pulled into the crowd.

Players celebrating with the fans after the game.

More celebration. But please note Eric Berry on the left with Smokey.
Is there a better example of school and state pride than a
great big football player with his arm around some guy wearing a dog suit?
I don't think so.

GO VOLS!!!

Adopt-a-Post (ha!)

Not much going on so I thought I'd post something someone else posted.

I was informed recently by my friend, Katie, that November is Adoption Awareness Month, and thought I would do my part. From as far back as I can remember, I've had an interest in, and a soft-spot for, the whole concept of adoption. To the point that any story related to orphans, adoption, etc. usually involves tears from me.

However, not having been adopted nor having ever adopted any children, I'm also not too well-informed on the subject (unless countless childhood listenings / reenactment's of the Annie Broadway Soundtrack count) so I thought her post would be much more useful and appropriate than anything I could write:

http://katiedustin.blogspot.com/2007/11/adoption-awareness-month.html

Katie's retelling of her story is a good one. I was laughing and crying (typical) throughout and I know the story. And, well, have been known to cry when telling it to other people. I can't help it. It's totally involuntary.

On a side note: the link above tells you how Eli, John and Finley came to be, but the link below tells you about our trip to the zoo. (Aunt Gert's been playing with her new Flickr account during these quiet days at work before Thanksgiving - can you tell?).

http://www.flickr.com/photos/33887677@N00/sets/72157602495417124/show/

Happy Thanksgiving!

Thursday Recap / Weekend Preview

"The Office": This week it was the perfect example of what I love about "The Office" and what I don't like so much. The whole Michael in the wilderness concept overall was kind of stupid - and a lame way to be part of NBC's "Green Week" (30 Rock did it perfectly and hilariously, however. Yea Al!). His antics while out in the forest were funny, but not what I love. The genius part was the whole Jim-in-charge / birthday scenario. Because who hasn't experienced this level of nonsense at work? Jim is both right and wrong; silly and making sense. Everyone else is also all of these things as well. I loved it! The best though - Jim's impression of Toby; Jim and Pam's quick exchange about meeting in the conference room; and then of course Michael somehow becoming the hero and cool boss at the end. And I loved all of the snippets of Michael scaring people for their birthday. So great.

Everything else on TV last night: Also great. "Grey's Anatomy" finally seems to be back to the original show that I love. I was a complete mess with the whole injured mother / adopted child story-line. But, I'm a mess when it comes to anything about orphaned/adopted children so that was kind of a given (I'm trying to decide if I can handle seeing Martian Child in the theater or not). Then, of course, it had to be followed up by one of my favorite Sex-in-the-City reruns of Miranda's wedding / Samatha's breast cancer / Carrie's pink Oscar de la Renta dress from The Russian.

The rest of life: I'm trying to get ready to be in a multi-person yard sale on Saturday with my friend, Claudia, and several of her girl friends that I've been getting to know. It's been great cleaning closets and looking for stuff to get rid of, but my house is so small that there's not an extra/empty corner - let alone room - to stack it all in. So, of course, it's in the living room, breakfast area and mud room / dogs' room. And believe you me, they are NOT happy to be sharing their den with crap I've dragged out of the garage. Apparently dirt and dust from foreign objects = bad; Own dirt and dust they've dragged in from the yard = good.

I love having yard sales. It's one of those quaint neighborhoody things that I always picture being very Martha Stewartish with mugs of cocoa, vintage kitchen items arranged on metal patio tables, old worn out chairs, etc. It never quite ends up that way, but it's still fun nonetheless.

All proceeds will be going to fund Sunday's Christmas Village outing with Katie and to a desperately-needed bike tune-up so that I can hopefully get my fat ass riding again.

Saturday is also the UT / Arkansas game. Don't really know what to think of this one. I figure it will either be a blow-out defeat a la the Alabama game or a down-to-the-wire-make-me-want-to-puke-last-minute victory like the South Carolina game. Not exactly looking forward to either. Not that it's going to keep me from watching either... GO VOLS!!!

Like Shoo Bop Sha Wadda Wadda Yippitiy Boom da Boom

Well, that was one of the more interesting things I've ever tried to type. I was going title this post something from the song "Jesse's Girl." Easy to type, but alas, nothing really applied. Because you see, this weekend my friend Katie had a birthday. She and I first became friends back in the second grade. Our childhood consisted of multiple trips to the roller skating rink, pretending we were Trixie Belden and Honey Wheeler, song and dance productions to Grease and Xanadu in her living room, and belting out "You Light Up My Life" at my piano. Along the way we made friends with boys. One of them was named Dustin, and even though we were pretty sure he had cooties, we enjoyed his company and making fun of the fact that he came from a strange and far-off land called Ohio.

Katie moved when we were in junior high, but Dustin and I stayed friends through high school, college and now that we're supposedly grown ups. Nine or so years ago (yeesh!), I was in graduate school (in that strange and far-off land called Ohio) when Dustin called to play a game I like to refer to as "Hey, guess who I saw at the mall / a concert / a restaurant from grade school / high school / that marching band trip we took to Six Flags in 1987." He likes to play this game because I never know who he's talking about. "Hey, guess who I saw at the mall?" he said. "I don't know," I replied, rolling my eyes and starting to rifle through a box of photos from the late '80s, looking for the stack from Six Flags to try and get a head start. "Katie!" he shouted. Finally. I got one.

He gave her my number and the rest is history. Well, not quite... A couple of years later she married Dustin. (Yeah, I know, Nora Ephron could have a field day with this story...) I got to be the best person at their wedding and am Godmother to their oldest son, Eli. She and I tell him stories about wearing our pajamas and singing into hairbrushes like they were microphones - or when we formed a Go Go's tribute/lip sync band - when we were just a little older than he is right now. He and Dustin usually just shake their heads in embarassment, but I'm pretty sure that their newewst additions, John and Finley, are ready to follow in our footsteps.

And speaking of shaking your head in embarassment... I thought I'd share a couple of photos. Photos that were taken with a Kodak Instamatic (ca. 1978) and a Kodak disposable camera (ca. 1999), respectively, and then scanned into my computer many years later. I think you can still figure out who's who though. Coincidentally, she just forwarded me an email about girls that grew up in the 70's that was awesome (I still have my Marie Osmond doll, do you?) and I may post later when I have time to upload all the fab pictures.

From my 4th or 5th(?) grade piano recital (the devilish grin and bunny ears would be Katie; the messy hair and giant Chicklet teeth are all me):

Yes, we're sober...

And 20ish years later at her wedding (slightly less devilish grin, and look, my head finally caught up with my teeth):

No, we're not sober...

Happy birthday, Katie. Please don't hurt me for posting these. We need to update this line of photos though or else the next similar picture we take will be of us in rocking chairs without any teeth. And well, probably not sober....

Pretty in Pink

First, thanks to Katie for my first comment! I figure that if anything I write here comes close to being as entertaining as her blog, I'll be doing ok. Hers will also be the first in my list of blog links on the right side of this page - when I finally get around to doing it, that is - but for now, just go to katiedustin.blogspot.com if you'd like to check it out. I highly recommend.

Second, here's a bit about my weekend adventure in Atlanta. I travelled south on Friday to pick up my mother and step-father at the airport on their way back from Italy (yes, I know, they suck); visit my friend Amanda, her baby, husband and dog; drive A LOT - or as my grandmother would have said "all over hell and half of Georgia" (which would actually apply in this case); and visit the trifecta of Stores-Nashville-Should-Have-But-Instead-I-Have-To-Go-To-Atlanta-For: Nordstroms, Crate & Barrel, and The Container Store (you could also add IKEA in there too, but we just couldn't squeeze it in this time and well, I have no hope of Nashville ever getting one so it shouldn't technically go on this list).

The Mother-Ship (or as I also like to call it:
Crack House for the Compulsive Organizer)

Most importantly, however, we went to cheer on my aunts, Jean and Lynn, as they participated in The Breast Cancer 3 Day: a 60-mile walk to benefit the Susan G. Komen Foundation. I even purchased a pink t-shirt just for the occasion. And getting me to wear pink is no small achievement (You should have seen my face a couple of years ago when "pink was the new black." It was not a pretty sight. But I digress...) They began their walk at a mall in Alpharetta, GA on Friday and we were able to find our way to one of the cheering stations on Saturday before they arrived. People were there lining the sidewalk, clapping, waving pom-poms, holding up signs and high-fiving the walkers as they came by. Many of the walkers wore costumes (tutus, halos, butterfly wings, etc.) or funny t-shirts - even the volunteers and officers got in on the festivities as we saw a policeman with a bright pink wig on directing traffic.

On Sunday, the walk ended at Piedmont Park in downtown Atlanta. Joining us was our friend, Neighbor Jane, who is a breast cancer survivor AND did The 3 Day Walk in California a few years ago (and is my mother and Tom's next door neighbor in case you're wondering what kind of parent names their child Neighbor). After circling various business and residential areas around the park looking for a parking space and having a man scream obsenities at me (I have very little patience in general - even less for people with unleashed pit bulls, especially if they're keeping me from finding a parking space) we finally made it there. And, somehow by the grace of someone, were able to get our chairs set up in the shade and with a perfect view of the stage, then haul our behinds to the other side of the park in time to see Jean and Lynn cross the finish line, then pick up their luggage and drag it back to our chairs just in time for some water and a snack before the closing ceremonies began. Don't ask me how we managed to accomplish all of this.

The closing ceremonies began with an introduction from someone on stage as the 2,500 particpants entered into the arena in front of the stage - arm-in-arm, six people across - and formed three rings inside a giant circle. First, the walkers on the outside - women in white 3 Day t-shirts, men in grey - followed by the crew of volunteers in various colored t-shirts in the middle ring, and then finally the survivors in pink t-shirts in the very center. I had been running around, taking pictures and wiping what was probably a combination of sweat and tears out of my eyes as the survivors entered the arena. From where I was standing, I couldn't get a very good picture of them coming in so I turned to try to get a picture of everyone that was already standing in the arena area. I was looking at the screen of my digital camera and trying to determine what was going on because the tiny view looked a little odd. I looked up to try and figure out what was going on and saw a sea of shoes. The walkers, in one enormous circle surrounding the survivors, each removed one the shoes they were wearing and held it in the air to salute them as they entered. Needless to say, there was not a dry eye to be found anywhere around me.

I don't know where exactly Jean and Lynn were in that big crowd, but we managed to find them afterward AND get them and their luggage out to the car, as well as make it back to their house and eat dinner - all before 9:00 that night. The next day they were still able to walk and have inspired me to (maybe) join them next year. I'll have to think about it though - I may have purchased a pink t-shirt especially for this weekend, but I don't know that I can afford - or stomach - three days of pink clothes. And I've already warned my mother, who also wants to do this next year, that I will NOT be wearing any wacky outfits or hats. And look, now it's in writing!

In addition to the amazing feat (or feet, ha ha) of walking 60 miles in three days, my aunts together raised just under $6,000, in honor of - and in memory of - many of their friends and relatives who have suffered with breast cancer. Two of them include my grandmother, Gene Shipp, who died in 1989 and my step-grandmother, Patricia Hardin, who passed away in August of this year. I know they must be very proud right now. Me too.

Jean (l) and Lynn (r) as they crossed the finish line on Sunday

Thank you to all of my friends who donated money - it really means a lot to me.

Click here to see more pictures from the event.