Thank God I Don't Have to Say this Very Often

The SEC Championship is tomorrow afternoon on CBS - a match-up between Florida and Alabama. Should be a great game, especially since whoever wins will play for the national championship. I've already babbled on and on about my feelings for these two teams so I won't add anything else. I will only say... as much as it pains me...

ROLL. TIDE.

And since there's no Hail Mary Haiku contest to enter, I thought I'd try my hand at it for this less-than-auspicious occassion:

Roll Tide? Ugh. Now feel

faint; must lie down with orange

compress on my head.

Happy Friday!

Ain't No Place I'd Rather Be

"In the East, college football is a cultural exercise;
On the West Coast, it is a tourist attraction;
In the Midwest, it is cannibalism;
But in the South, it is religion."

- Marino "Godfather" Casem

"If you live in Tennessee or Alabama,
there are two rules to live by:
Don't get married on the third Saturday in October,
and try not to die -
because in either case, the preacher might not show."

- Beano Cook

These thoughts might explain why I treat the fall with the same level of discipline and reverence, if not more so, than Lent and why I consider this week to be the college football equivalent of Holy Week (sorry, Jesus). Sure, we've got other games after this week, but - as you've heard me mention a million times before - this is the week leading to the Third Saturday in October. It's the 92nd meeting of the universities of Tennessee and Alabama. This is the epitome of SEC football - and one of the all-time greatest rivalries in all of college football.

The first game was played in 1901 and ended in a 6-6 tie when the fans stormed the field to protest a call by the officials and started a small riot.

The civility has not improved in the years since.

I was once at a game where fans nearly went over the wall after two Alabama players who were warming up on the field while Tennessee's Pride of the Southland Marching Band was performing the end of their halftime show. People screamed and yelled at the players to get off the field. An official came and told them to get off the field. They did. The official walked off. The players sauntered back onto the field and started tossing the ball around over the heads of some band members. People went completely ballistic. I was suddenly torn between fearing for the two players' lives and really hoping a Sousaphone player would just swing around and take one of them out.

That said, I don't despise Alabama like I do Florida. I don't dread the feeling of losing to Alabama like I do when we lose to Florida. I want the Alabama game to be a bloodbath of Roman Colosseum proportions on the field and a gracious handshake when its all over that honors the tradition we all just participated in. Whereas Florida... even if they win, I want those Gators to have suffered so miserably for four quarters that they cry on camera during the post-game press conference.

The Florida game is played in early September when its still hot and humid as all hell, just adding to the dank and icky feeling you have about the whole event. In contrast, you can't find a prettier setting for a football game than Knoxville in October (Tuscaloosa isn't too bad either, I hear). The days are crisp and cool and sunny and the maple trees all agree in the importance of the game as they've all turned into the teams' colors of crimson and orange by this time. It is college football at its finest.

(It's actually been a lot more than cool and crisp here - poor Oliver's been hiding under quilts and blankets. I assume it's because he's cold, but it could be that he's knows what week this is and is afraid that I'll dress him in orange again...)

The game is back on national TV this year, as God intended (CBS 2:30c / 3:30e). The weather for Saturday afternoon in Tuscaloosa is supposed to be 62 and sunny. Alabama is currently ranked #1 and I don't have any real expectation of winning - but you never know. Stranger things have happened. Speaking of strange... I'll end with my pick for this week's Hail Mary Haiku contest over at Rocky Top Talk. An homage to Japanese poetry, the Grateful Dead, and a great college football tradition. Nice.

We will survive the

Alabama Getaway

signed, Tennessee Jed

GO VOLS!

And you thought I was kidding...

It really is dog-ass cold here. Well, for Tennessee in mid-December it is anyway...

Our adorable local public radio news reporter/substitute host (I've met him, he actually is adorable. I'm not just making it up), this morning announced the time and temp: "It's 11 degrees in Nashville at 7:20."

Except the way he said it was all: "Dude, it's only e-lev-en degrees outside. No, man, I'm totally serious. Like Fahrenheit -not even Celsius."

By Request

If you happened to listen to NPR this morning - or last Sunday - they've been talking about doughnuts. They even had someone who wrote the history of the doughnut or something doing a live online chat. Seemed like a sign from above.

"Ode to the Krispy Kreme"

(Or, how Southerns know way too much about where and when to get food that's bad for you.)

A while back I regaled a few willing readers with a tale of woe about how Krystal no longer makes vidalia onion rings. At the end I mentioned that one of Nashville's Krystals has a particularly onerous drive-through and how one night some friends and I almost became ensnared in said drive-through while trying to find an open doughnut store.

Confused? Intrigued? Hungry? Well, one very kind reader requested the rest of that story and I thought it only polite to oblige. (That'll teach her!)

So picture, if you will, a Saturday night and two friends - let's call them "HE" and "SHE"- and I went to a late movie in Green Hills (a neighborhood on the west side of Nashville). We got out of the movie around 11:00, and as we were leaving the theater, HE said he wanted to stop at the Donut Den to pick up some doughnuts for the next morning.

The "Den" is SUPPOSED to be open until midnight. But, as we found out from my last trip to Krystal, sometimes the universe disappoints. And sure enough, the Donut Den was CLOSED. (When I tell this story to people from Nashville they always scrunch their brow, become distracted, and start to mumble "but why would the Donut Den be closed?!?")

So, we pull out of the "Den" and onto the street. HE says that now that he can't get doughnuts, he really, really wants doughnuts. SHE and I say that now we're hungry too because of all the doughnut talk. (And no, the movie was not a late night showing of Laser Floyd). Someone - it was during the summer, I believe, so it was probably me - reminded us all that Krystal was up the street just a little further. Being a valid option when it's late and you're hungry for something to clog your arteries, we tried that. When we got to Krystal the line for the drive-through was almost out to the street. Decisions had to be made. And the rest of the conversation went something like this:

SHE: That's a long line. I don't want to sit in that line.
HE: Well, I'm not going in.
ME: No. Me neither. But we don't want to get stuck in that line - you get halfway and there's that retaining wall and then you're trapped. We could be there forever.
SHE: I can't get stuck in that line. I'll go insane.
HE: And I really wanted doughnuts. Krystal doesn't have doughnuts.
SHE: Maybe the guy at Donut Den was just taking the trash out or having a smoke and locked the front door until he got back. Maybe we should try again.
ME: But if we do we lose our place in line.

[silence as we all take a moment to ponder the options]

HE: WE COULD CALL THEM FROM THE CAR!
ME: Excellent. I'll call information. [dials 411]
OPERATOR: Nextel 411, this is Yolanda, what listing?
ME: Nashville, Tennessee. The Donut Den on Hillsboro Pike.
OPERATOR: Thank you. Here's your number....

[ring... ring... ring... ring... ring... ring... ring...]

ME: No answer.
SHE: Hey, the line moved.
HE: Damn it. I really want doughnuts. And now Krystal sounds disgusting.
SHE: Well, we knew that already.
ME: What about Krispy Kreme?
HE: It's not open.
SHE and ME: It's open 24 hours!
HE: Only the Nolensville Pike (on the south side) store is open 24-hours, but it's closed for construction - they're rebuilding it.

[Drive-through line inches forward]

ME: Rebuilding! But it was so cool - all retro with the Formica and chrome counter. They're keeping all of that, aren't they?
HE: No. It was all only held together with 50 years of grease. I heard the fire marshall said to level it.
SHE: What about the Elliston Place store (downtown-ish)?
HE: No. It closes at 11:00.
SHE and ME: How the hell do you know that!?!
HE: I have a friend that lives in Bellevue (The west side. Waaaay on the west side. Like Memphis.) whose claim to fame is how one night at 10 'till 11 he made it from Bellevue to the Elliston Place Krispy Kreme before it closed AND didn't get stopped by the police. He's very proud...
ME: I'm gonna call, just to make sure.
HE: I'm telling you - it's CLOSED.
SHE: Hey we're moving again - and we're getting closer to the wall. Hurry up.
ME: Well maybe since the other store is under renovation they're open later.
HE: I'm telling you. They close at 11:00.
ME: Let's just find out. What else are we going to do?
SHE: We're gonna get stuck in the damn drive-through if you don't hurry up.
ME: [dials 411]
OPERATOR: Nextel 411, this is Yolanda, what listing?
ME: [covering the phone and whispering loudly] Sonofabitch! It's the same woman!
HE: [starts giggling so hard he's about to pee himself]
SHE: Who cares! Ask her for the number. There are only three cars ahead of us before the wall.
ME: [speaking in a lower tone to disguise voice] Nashville, Tennessee. Krispy Kreme... On Elliston Place....
YOLANDA: Uh-huh... Thank you.... Here's your number...

[ring... ring... ring... ring... ring...]

ME: No answer.
HE: Really?! You don't say...
SHE: Two cars. TWO CARS!
ME: Maybe the Krispy Kreme on Nolensville is open again.
HE: Did I not just say that it was closed?
ME: Fine. But there has to be another Krispy Kreme in the greater Nashville area.
HE: Where?
ME: I don't know. Kentucky? But it doesn't matter though because I don't want to call information - it will be that same woman again. You call.
HE: It probably wasn't the same woman. How do you know if it was the same woman?
ME: Her name was Yolanda. What are the chances?
HE: True. But she won't know who you are and she probably gets a lot of doughnut-related calls this time of nigh ---
SHE: ONE CAR!! THERE'S ONLY ONE CAR LEFT BEFORE THE WALL - THEN WE'RE TRAPPED. CALL, DAMN IT!!
HE: HURRY!!!
ME: Alright, alright! [dials 411]
OPERATOR: Nextel 411, this is Yolanda, what listing?
ME: [covers the phone again] You've GOT to be kidding me!!
HE: [giggling AND snorting]
SHE: THIS IS NOT FUNNY! We've already been sitting here for how long?? I don't even like Krystal. I HATE Krystal. I DO NOT want to be trapped in the Krystal drive-through. Do you understand me?!?

[Keeps ranting while I talk to information]

ME: [full of shame, not even bothering to disguise voice] uhhh, yeah. Nashville, Tennessee. Krispy Kreme on Nolensville Pike.
YOLANDA: Y'all are in serious need of some doughnuts.
ME: I KNOW. I'm so embarrassed. I thought I was calling some big national Nextel call center.
YOLANDA: No girl, I'm in Nashville. The only one here tonight.
ME: That's hilarious. We're in Green Hills and were going to go to Donut Den, but it was closed.
YOLANDA: [probably scrunching her brow] It was CLOSED?!?
ME: I KNOW. So we're in the Krystal drive-through as back-up, but we don't really want Krystal, plus you know, there's that wall, and we don't want to get stuck.
YOLANDA: Oh yeah. I know what you're talking about. And all those drunks in line. Takes forever.
SHE: THE LINE IS ABOUT TO MOVE AGAIN! SEE - PEOPLE ARE TAKING OFF THEIR BRAKES!
HE: [uncontrollable giggling and snorting]
ME: [covers phone] Just wait here a second. [uncovers phone] I KNOW - so, then we were going to go to the Krispy Kreme on Elliston -
YOLANDA: Well, I thought it closed at 11:00, but I didn't know if I should tell you that or not.
ME: It's okay. Someone else in the car knew it would be too but I was hoping that since the one on Nolen --
SHE: WE HAVE TO MOVE FORWARD IN LINE - PEOPLE ARE GOING TO HONK!
ME: [covers the phone] No they won't. Just a second! [uncovers the phone] I'm sorry about that, Yolanda... I was just thinking that since the Nolensville store is under construction that maybe Elliston would be open later.

[car behind us honks]

HE: [no noise coming from him, just convulsions of laughter and small tears streaming down his cheeks]
YOLANDA: Honey - the construction is finished! They reopened Friday at midnight.
ME: I KNEW IT!

[car behind us honks again]

SHE: I'M GOING. TO KILL YOU. [does the mom-style awkward backwards reach from the driver's seat into the back to try to smack me and/or take my phone]
ME: [dodging and weaving] Nolensville reopened last night! Thanks Yolanda!

[SHE immediately whips the car out of the drive-through and back onto the road]

YOLANDA: Y'all have fun! Bye!

We drive over to the south side of Nashville to the newly-built Krispy Kreme. The drive-through line is out to the street.

SHE: Dear God, not again...
HE: [not fully recovered, speaking through gasps as he tries to catch his breath] There... Is... A... Krystal... Down the road... A little... [reverts to fits of laughter]
SHE: So help me...

This line is moving much faster though, so we wait. And as we wait you can see the people in line ahead of us pointing at the inside of the new store. No doubt talking about what it looked like for so long. The "Hot Donuts Now" sign lights up while we're waiting. People from inside their cars can be seen raising their arms and cheering. A car horn honks in enthusiasm.

When we get to the speaker box back of the store, there's a banner over it that says "Welcome Home." We order. We get our doughnuts. We start to eat them before we're done paying. Before we get halfway back home we're well on our way to a blissful sugar coma.

HE: You know what you should name your Chinese kid?

[puzzled pause as we try to figure out what he's talking about]

ME: What?
HE: You. You were talking at dinner about how you plan to one day adopt a little girl from China.
ME: Yeah...
HE: Well, I know what you should name her.
ME: Please don't say Krystal.
HE: [snort] No.
ME: Krispy Kreme???
SHE: Oh, you're appalled at Krystal, but you offer up Krispy Kreme as a viable option.
HE: Nooooo.

[Long pause again, then...]

ALL: YOLANDA!

Summer Lovin' Week 5

"Hot Tomato"

This week I would like to take a moment and acknowledge my little corner of the planet located on the east side of the river in good ole Nashvegas. We're an odd bunch over here. A former Victorian enclave turned ghetto turned urban frontier turned hodge-podge of what makes Nashville one of the best kept secrets in the land (in my opinion).

I would argue that my region of the country is a bit of a dichotomy - a yin and yang - of mint juleps and moonshine, bluebloods and backwoods, parasols and overalls, B.B. King and the B-52's. We defy stereotype and yet are some of the most stereotyped people around. I would also argue that my state is an even more intense example of that contrast, my city even more so, and my neighborhood - well, let's just say we take this yin and yang concept to a whole other level.

My neighborhood is a place where you're apt to see a young woman jogging down a sidewalk and sharing it with a homeless guy, striding by people hanging on their front porch playing guitars and mandolins, being passed by a car with the base up too loud, and then bumping into her neighbor on his way to Drag Queen Bingo at the corner bar that sits a block from one of the best child care facilities in the city.

It's not a perfect place or utopia - obviously, since some of my neighbors have to live on the streets. We don't do as good a job as we should of integrating all of our diverse populations. And we have our other difficulties - like a bit of a crime problem (there are a series of bumper stickers for our neighborhood - one of which says "we'll steal your heart and your lawn mower.") And the ongoing challenge of not crossing from urban renewal into over-gentrification.

So far the Yuppie insurgents (as I like to call them and then try to remind myself that "inclusive" means including everyone) haven't scrubbed every corner clean and cram-packed it with fake urban cuteness, but some have certainly tried. I complained once at dinner that I thought we were headed too far in that direction and spent much of the meal whining about outrageously high home prices and my new neighbor with the BMW and Weimaraner. When I left the restaurant I was relieved to find myself parked between a pickup with a confederate flag decal and a Prius with a bumper sticker that said "Dick Cheney eats kittens" because I knew that my weird little part of town would live to see another day.

One of the ways our overall spirit and oddity manifests itself is in the fairly-new August tradition of the Tomato Art Fest. Why the tomato (and why tomato art) you ask? Because it's a good Southern summer staple? Because we grow a particularly special variety in East Nashville? No. It's because the tomato is "a uniter, not a divider - bringing together both fruit and vegetable."

There's a beautiful tomato contest. And an ugly tomato contest. Tomato art show for adults and for kids. A costume competition for dogs. Salsa dancing and a Bloody Mary contest. There is a pageant that crowns a tomato queen and king on that Friday - one of the requirements being that you are able to lead the parade the next morning (pictured above). The parade on Saturday is a second line parade in the New Orleans tradition - started by some our Katrina evacuees on the one-year anniversary. It goes for only two blocks or so, stops to form a circle of singing and dancing, then turns and goes back to the other end. It's a brief, noisy, unstructured, sweaty, costumed, conglomeration of bedazzled umbrellas, kids on bikes, dogs in capes, women with crazy hats, men in platform shoes, and a guy playing a washboard-type thing with a spoon. Doesn't get much better than that:

Please excuse my poor digital-camera-as-video-camera skills

This year's winning bumper sticker:

More pictures from the parade

Post parade

Tomato-themed crafts for sale

Festival-goers

Even though it's usually crazy hot for Tomato Fest (last year I ended up showering twice before noon) I know that you can't really have a Tomato Fest in October or May, and well, a cooler-weather Apple Fest or Cabbage Fest just wouldn't have quite the same flair.

So I'd like to say thank you to my neighborhood for giving me a reason to not only be grateful for where I live and for the most-delicious tomato, but also for making me enjoy the lovely onset of August.

Did I really just put the words lovely and August in the same sentence? Yes, I guess I did.

Summer Lovin' Week 3

"Lord of the Rings No More"

I'm not slacking. Honest. I made a very legitimate attempt at taking a couple of different photos this weekend. One was of lightning bugs. Enough said. The other was of a trip I only dare to make once - maybe twice - during the summer. To Krystal. Please don't judge.

If you live north of the Mason Dixon Line you are perhaps unfamiliar with the "wonder" that is Krystal. (Please note - it's not "Crystal" as in something pretty and sparkly. No, no. It's "Krystal" as in "we've changed the spelling to be more like a strip club.") Up North your closest equivalent would be White Castle. So you get the picture: little mystery meat burgers that you purchase by the sackful and eat late at night when your judgement is impaired. Very popular with college students and rednecks. A friend of a friend, who is a police officer and works the night shift on Saturdays, gets the majority of his DUI arrests just by observing the behavior of folks waiting in the Krystal drive-through. Like shooting fish in a barrel.

I have been known to eat at Krystal every once in a great while, but usually only in the summer. Why? Because in the summertime Krystal makes onion rings. Vidalia onion rings. But only in the summer. Why? Because Krystal is ALL ABOUT seasonal cooking with locally-grown vegetables, of course! But seriously, I have no idea why. I just know that once or twice, between June 1 and August 31, I will suffer the tragedy that is Krystal because somehow (and most of me doesn't really want to know how) these onion rings are de. lic. ious. And to top it off? A frozen Coke. Because that's just always yummy.

So late Saturday afternoon I was starving and - have I mentioned? - had been ripping out my living room ceiling all day and I thought that if ever there was a legitimate excuse to go to Krystal, this was certainly it. I scrubbed some of the black soot from my face, put on a ball cap and a giant pair of sunglasses and ran to my car hoping no neighbor would see me.

The drive-through was just as I imagined it would be. The car in front of me had a woman in the driver's seat in a tank top with a cigarette dangling from her lips as she ordered for herself and the free-range toddler who was busy trying to climb out the passenger seat window and/or breathe clean air. When it was my turn I pulled up to the speaker. The voice from inside said "Whaddayawant." I glanced at the menu and felt a small sense of panic. "Ummm," I said fearfully, "do you not have onion rings any more?" "What!?" said the voice from inside. "On-ion-Rings" I repeated. "No," they answered indignantly, as though I might as well have asked for flan.

I was crushed. But luckily - and you have no idea how luckily - I was at the Krystal on the east side. Not at the west side Krystal near my old apartment. Because at the east side Krystal you can get out of drive-through if tragedy strikes. The west side Krystal has a retaining wall around the back that creates a drive-through-point-of-no-return. And if, while you're waiting, say a fryer catches on fire, or someone passes out at the wheel before making it to the window, you are trapped like a rat with nothing to do but ponder your poor life choices.

It happened to me once and I vowed that as God as My Witness it would never happen again. A few years later it did almost happen again in a late-night, post movie race with two friends to find an open donut store via cell phone while waiting in the west side Krystal drive-through as back up. I won't bore you with the details as I'm sure you've had enough of trans-fat-related lore for one day. But, just to warn you, I might have to resort to telling it if yet another photo shoot goes awry. For now I will only say that it does have a happy ending. And that it will be titled Ode to the Krispy Kreme. See!? More interesting already.

So here's to yet another week and to the end of July. Summer's point-of-no-return, if you will. Here's hoping the rest goes by enjoyably. Or at least without incident. (And, if you happen to have your own source for vidalia onion rings, please call me...)

Summer Lovin' Week 1

"Had Me a Blast"

Never one to turn down a good song title or lyric from Grease, I have dubbed my little summer photo essay project / attempt to better appreciate my surroundings during this unfortunate of seasons, "Summer Lovin'." My plan is for a new installment each week until the temperature drops enough to comfortably cover my upper arm fat wear long sleeves again. Or Halloween. Whichever Global Warming allows to happen first.

For Week One we borrow from the ever-glorious musical movie Grease once again and pay tribute to the 4th of July. (Yes, I'm behind a week. Already.)

In Nashville, if you're into crowds and the smell of sweaty polyester, one option is to go downtown to the river and watch the fireworks. All smart-assed-ness aside, my town does a great job with July 4th - in part because the whole thing is scored live and in person by the Nashville Symphony. Our symphony sounds fantastic under normal circumstance, but sounding fantastic while playing on a barge, in the heat, on the river, while being bombarded with bugs and having rockets launched behind their heads takes a certain level of skill.

The 4th of July is also a fun time in my family. My mother and stepfather live in the same part of the city as I do, but even closer to downtown, so it's a good spot for the 4th. But it's also their anniversary. And while they would probably enjoy going somewhere just the two them, they usually have various family and friends over instead. Some might question their logic, but I think its because they know my brother and I both have keys to their house and would just have people over anyway, so really it's more of an insurance policy on their part than anything...

To see the fireworks it's usually best to walk around the corner from their house - or even a couple of blocks over to our church. Last year it was so unbelievably, miserably, and disgustingly hot (at 9:30 at night!) that when asked if everyone was ready to head out to watch the festivities, my pregnant sister-in-law and I said "Meh. We'll just sit here and watch it on TV." But this year, THIS YEAR, the weather was not only gorgeous, but the powers that be decided to launch the fireworks from a little further down the river. Perhaps an unsuspecting tuba player was singed last year. I don't know. I just know that I stepped out onto my mother's front porch and into a perfect view of Independence Day as I'm sure our founding fathers and mothers intended. No traffic. No shirt-less mullet-ed men. No coolers to drag around. No smell of carnival food. No sweat. God bless America.

General Observations

Hello. Long time no chat. Nothing earth shattering has been going on, but here are some random things to be taken or left as you wish.


1. Alanis Morisette should follow me around for a while.
The same day I put in new car air freshener vent clippy things with the scent of "Summer Rain" I accidentally left the windows open too far and it rained in my car all afternoon. Ironic? Yes or no? Please discuss. I would also like to mention that "Summer Rain" air freshener clippy things don't smell a thing like summer rain. They smell like nasty fabric softener and with the same intensity as though you'd snorted it up your nose. So when combined, fake summer rain and actual summer rain in the JettaWhoWillNotBeNamed results in an aroma reminiscent of Wet Dog Doused in Snuggle. So... kinda like my laundry room... A well-spent $2.99 and trip down the Target automotive aisle if ever there was one.


2. So che siete ma che cosa sono io.
In an attempt to add Glass House Dwellers and Stone Throwers to their list of many accomplishments, someone in our presidential administration distributed information to reporters along on the G-8 junket this week. In it was a bio on Italian Prime Minister Berlusconi that referred to him as "a political dilettante who gained high office only through use of his considerable influence on the national media" and "one of the most controversial leaders in the history of a country known for governmental corruption and vice." The staffer that wrote it and will probably have to be punished for it (and who I'm guessing wanted to be fired instead of just jumping ship so that he could collect unemployment while writing his tell-all) really hit the smug, hypocritical mother-load, no? And... not to nitpick over word choice, but if by "vice" the Bushie meant the country has an appreciation of education, history, art, music, architecture, real food, small cars AND YET still manages affordable health care, a pretty high standard of living and a respectable GNP, then I think we could stand a vice or two like that over here. In the meantime I've been hoping Berlusconi's people would issue a statement that just simply said "I know you are, but what am I?"


3. Someone's been sampling the props.
On my Netflix summer watching list is the Showtime series "Weeds." Season 3 is starting to get a little more outrageous and dark-humored than I enjoy, but it's still fantastic. Plus, I think that Nancy and Conrad may have usurped Hyde and Jackie of "That 70's Show" for top spot on my list of Most Unlikely Yet Greatest Television Couples Ever. But alas, not my point. Last night I happened to check out the special features on one of the discs and watched a promo thingy on whichever Olsen twin it is that joined the cast that season. In it she says the role was a great opportunity "because most people only know me from 'Full House' or as a fashion icon." Uhhhh. I'm sorry. What??? I know I shouldn't sit here in Levis, Tevas and a shirt from Eddie Bauer and cast judgement on who should and shouldn't be considered a fashion icon, but at the same time, I think I am as qualified as someone whose style was referred to in this same feature as "dumpster chic." I also don't know if said twin is single, but I hear there's a recently unemployed presidential staffer with similar delusional issues and he could probably use a date this weekend.


4. Ongoing attempts at self-improvement.
There's a general fantasy that seems to float around in the rest of the world's mind as to the typical Southern summer's day. It usually involves elegantly rumpled linen outfits, gracious front porches, the scent of honeysuckle and a hand fan. If you happen to be in possession of one of those fantasies, I'm here to gently inform you that it's a giant pile of crap. A summer's day in my Southern reality involves wearing whatever is least likely to show pit stains... fighting the dogs for the living room floor vent when the AC kicks on... and air so muggy that it knocks the wind out of you just a bit when you walk outside. It is scented. I will give you that. But less like honeysuckle and more like a damp beach towel you just found in the trunk of a car that's been baking in the driveway for a week and a half. And being more on the hermit end of the personality spectrum anyway, it takes all I can muster not to just close all the blinds and lay on the cool hardwoods with an IV of gin and tonic for three or four months. My point (at least I do go on like a good Southerner...) is that one of the reasons I started this little bloggy experiment was to try and evolve a bit. Up to this point I've only succeeded in perfecting the art of kvetching so now I'm going to try something else. And that something is to try to "enjoy" summer through writing. And photography. That's all I've got so far though. But stay tuned...


5. Ending my list with more lists. Ahhhh...
Entertainment Weekly's website (which is all kinds of fun even on a bad day) has been counting down their top 100 lists of "The New Classics." First movies, then television series, then albums, and lastly, books. I was pleased to have seen more than half of the movies listed. More of the TV shows than I care to admit. More of the music than I expected (thanks to a very generous inclusion of angsty 80's alt-rock). But sadly very few of the books. Very sadly. I used to be an avid reader. I still am in some ways, I guess - it's just that it usually involves nonfiction and home improvement magazines. Anyway... if you have a chance and want to take a look at the lists, it's a good way to kill twenty minutes (this link starts the movie countdown and all the rest are in the links on the side). I would be interested to know what you think. Shocks? Happy surprises? Unfortunate omissions? And if you're a smarty-pants that has read a good chunk of the book list I'd like to know what you think should be added to the stack on my bedside table. And read once I finish the July issue of "This Old House," of course...