Saturday, September 30, 2006

Retirement: Fall Quote

I have come to a still, but not a deep center,
A point outside the glittering current;
My eyes stare at the bottom of a river,
At the irregular stones, iridescent sandgrains,
My mind moves in more than one place,
In a country half-land, half-water.
I am renewed by death, thought of my death,
The dry scent of a dying garden in September,
The wind fanning the ash of a low fire.
What I love is near at hand,
Always, in earth and air.
- Theodore Roethke, The Far Field

Reminded me of death and life and Tybee and Tommy's funeral, and being with my cousin on the back river.

Oh.My.God.

So, i went out with the girls tonight. It is 5:46 a.m. right now. I got home at 5:30 a.m. after going out to a late (10pm) dinner at Brick Store in Decatur. Then we headed over to Azul for the Decatur Social Club (drinking and dancing). I totally had a great time. I walked in at 5:30 a.m., walked upstairs to put on my pjs and sleep on the couch. Put on the p.js, and was extra careful to not make a lot of noise. Walked out of my bedroom, and looked to my left. There was Rollie smiling at me. "Good morning, Mama," he said.

I've been up since 7 a.m this morning. It is now 5:49 a.m. and I have drunkenly fixed Rollie's breakfast and am blogging about the whole ordeal.

Fucking awesome.

Friday, September 29, 2006

Signs of the Apocalypse

I tried to figure out what I was going to wear tomorrow night ahead of time, rather than choosing my usual method (hitting the panic button about 30 minutes before I am supposed to leave).

Signs of the apocalypse:
  1. I tried on leggings. No, I am not kidding, and if I had any balls whatsoever, I would have taken a picture of myself wearing leggings and a mini-skirt to include here, but I was laughing too hard to hold the camera anyway. Yep, I tried it on with heels, a la "Desperately Seeking my 20s."
  2. After taking off the mini-skirt, I tried on a jean skirt from last year (still with the leggings). It made me look like Hope from Thirty Something (Oh, wait. I am thirty something. Shit.) I came this close to taking the scissors to it as if it was every pair of denim I owned in middle and high school. Luckily, I caught myself, called Lisa for support, and she talked me down.
  3. I failed to go to the grocery today, even though I had it in the back of my mind that there was a reason i needed to go. I realized as I sat down to my dinner after putting both kids down to bed (Auburn game on Thursday night. . . Fuck me, the football widow) that I failed to buy wine or beer for my evening on the couch alone. What the hell is a married with children woman going to do on a Thursday night if her husband goes out to watch football and she forgot to buy alcohol? What is she going to do to numb the shame of watching Laguna Beach episodes on tivo? That's right. When the going gets tough, the alcoholic gets creative. I didn't invent the White Russian, but I sure as hell haven't stooped to having one in fifteen years.
Now that I think about it, the White Russian might go really well with that stale birthday cake in the fridge. And I still might butcher that skirt tomorrow. Just for old time's sake. But I'm going to need to get to the grocery store for wine or beer for support.

Thursday, September 28, 2006

Hurtling through Space with a Toddler

This parenting thing just gets more and more difficult. I feel like more of a control freak than Kyra Phillips' sister-in-law, with constant correction of grammar and reminders for "Thank you," "Your welcome," and "Yes m'am" and "No m'am." The adage "Give them an inch and they'll take a mile?" That was undoubtedly first said by a parent of a toddler, and that parent was spot on. There is a sense that I am constantly hanging on by a thread of control, that failure to correct one little rudeness, or to nip a tantrum in the bud before it starts will send us all flying off into space like Lee Adama on Battlestar Galactica, the Editors' "You are Fading" as my soundtrack.

Then the kids start Mommies Morning Out or preschool. No longer do you have that constant control, the Mama chain of command, the Daddy Judge and Jury and Executioner. There is a period of the day where your child could suddenly take up crack or prostitution, and you would miss that oh-so-important first transgression lesson. Suddenly, your child is playing with children you've never met (Jacksons and Ezras and Ethans and lots and lots of Jacobs and Aidens,) and whose parents you have simply nodded hello to in a hallway with fluorescent lights. Your eldest is suddenly playing with younger siblings, boys schooled in the ways of Yu-Gi-Oh! - Whatever the fuck that is; You have no idea, because you have not yet encountered it, or half of the other stuff that comes out of your son's mouth.

We are still at the point where we play Matchbox cars. The most violent thing that happens to them is a "boom!" or a "big, biiiiig crash!" We are a no hitting, no biting, no kicking, no pushing household. All of these actions are met with swift punishment, and then we move on.

So, imagine my speechlessness when Rollie came home chanting something he had no doubt learned at school, because he sure as hell didn't learn it at home:

"Fight!Fight!Fight!" he yelled, with fire in his eyes and a fist raised high.

I wasn't even sure what to say. I told him that "fighting isn't nice. We don't fight." He yelled "Fight! Fight! Fight!" right in my face. I calmly told him again that it wasn't a nice thing to say. No need to raise my voice, or draw undue attention to my alarm - if there is anything a parent knows about toddlers, it is that you can't let them see when they have you on the ropes.

Really, though, I know it is a losing battle, that I can't keep Rollie in a plastic bubble or hermetically sealed containment building until he is eighteen. I just didn't realize that his peers would start having an influence so soon. The control freak must let go. I must trust that some of the other parents out there, the ones whose kids come into contact with mine, are going to do a decent job of raising their children, so that my job might be a little less harrowing.

I sure do feel like Lee Adama today, floating in space, a small oxygen leak in my flight suit, watching the fireworks in the distance, and completely at a loss as to how to get back to the ship.

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Tiller Fix

Sometimes I just need a fix. Just to remind myself how lucky I am, here are pics of the lovely little lady from a few days ago:





































Tuesday, September 26, 2006

PORN

It seems that my youngest child, daughter Tilda, shares her brother's propensity for Spanish pay-per-view porn. Huh. That's nice, dear.

Monday, September 25, 2006

Is it really so Strange?

Todd and I had an interesting weekend, and mine seemed to hinge on some weird breakdown between nature and man, reality and fantasy. I first noticed the chickens. Todd and I stopped at a gas station, because Quint (the dog) seemed a little carsick. We had been in stop and go traffic out of Atlanta. Todd went in for a coke and I walked Quint in some tall grasses in the empty lot next to the gas station. I was standing there, thinking about the fact that I had a weekend sans children ahead of me, when I heard what sounded like a clucking, and looked down to see two chickens standing about five feet from me. The chickens, Quint, and I all kind of looked at one another, then Quint and I watched as the chickens walked off into some tall grasses.

Todd and I hit the road, and decided to stop in a small town called Newborn. We had often passed a restaurant called Bess's Place, and finally decided to try it for dinner. When we drove up, we noticed a small helicopter in the field next to the restaurant. This is rather odd, as Newborn is in the middle of absolutely nowhere. Sure enough, as we sat down to our ribs and pulled pork on the patio, the helicopter lifted off and flew away. Not something I see every day.

It was dark by the time we left the restaurant, and the darkness is damn dark on the country roads of Newton, Jasper, and Putnam counties. We saw deer (not that unusual) and a creepy guy standing next to a mailbox on the side of the road, no house in sight, and just standing there. Then, I looked down a side road towards a security light high on a pole. Darkness was all around, but just under the light was a completely white, almost glowing horse, looking straight at me. Then there was the deer outside the screened porch at the lakehouse, just staring at us, as the dog barked and growled and the hair stood up on his back.

Okay, so upon reading what I've written, it just doesn't sound as weird as it was, but I swear, it was creepy and strange. And I liked it.

Oh, and happy birthday to the old ball and chain. I had a wonderful time this weekend, especially our boating excursion.

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Playing on Tybee

On Saturday morning, I dropped Tiller off at Grandma's near Macon and headed down to Savannah for Tommy's memorial. It was held at a church on Wilmington Island and i just barely made it in time. I brought clothes with me, and changed in the parking lot like a common tramp; I am sure some of the more snooty older Savannahites were appalled at me slipping my skirt on over my shorts, then pulling my shorts down and tossing them into the Pilot as I traded my ratty flip-flops for a nicer pair of wedges. Oh well.

Connie seemed genuinely touched to see me there and gave me a big hug. I sat alone during the ceremony, which was really more of a celebration of his life and work. I learned things about Tommy that I didn't know before. Tommy kept journals and had traveled the world. He was very religious, but very tolerant. One of the eulogists remarked that Tommy often said that the two places he was most at home were a church pew and a barstool; I was a little sad that I hadn't gotten to know Tom better.

Afterwards, we proceeded to Connie's on Tybee, changed into more comfortable clothes, then headed over to Tom's stepson's rental on the beach. One thing i really miss about living in a smaller, more southern town is the food. I ate three pimento cheese finger sandwiches; Pop eats about three whole pimento cheese sandwiches a day, but I had given them up completely and hadn't had one in years. Oh.MY.GOD. They are so fucking good. I also had homemade pound cake that tasted like my Grandma's, and honeybaked ham sandwiches on homemade biscuits. Did I mention the lemon squares and homemade cookies? Oh, and Bloody Marys. We had a lovely time with the Manhattanite friends of Tom's son and daughter, and one of his friends told an interesting story about how she is friends with the guy who used to be married to Tori Spelling. During most of this time, though, I was itching to see the Auburn/LSU game, and I found an ally in the most unlikely of places; Graham and Adam's cranky old grandmother, Gaggy. Gaggy finally managed to get her son (who had co-coached my first baseball team, the Birmingham PeeWees) to take her home and luckily, i was later able to watch the second half back at Connie's. Adam and I used some forethought for once and bought beer on the way back to the house.

It was at this point that Adam's wife Jenny noticed the nail in my tire, so Adam and I took off to try and get Freddie before he left his garage for the evening. No luck. Oh, well! Guess we need to go back, and drink and watch football! We headed back to Connie's.

I think Connie may be the origin of my love for animals, and not much has changed in the 34 years I have know her; She is probably even the source of my pet Tourette's, as my friends like to call my penchant for speaking to animals out of nowhere, a la "Hiiim's Bad!" Sure enough, she had one bird, four or more dogs, and numerous cats, two of whom she calls "The Terrorists." All of them lounge around on the furniture and get good lovin.' We sat around with dogs on top of us, eating fried chicken and feeding the animals without guilt. It was just like being a little girl again. Except for the beer.

Auburn ended up winning, so I called Todd to congratulate him - He was well into his celebration, and slurring his words, which is not usual for him. I missed him and was sorry i missed seeing him cut loose; My husband is very possibly one of the most fun people to drink with ever. Why do you think I married him?

Adam and I started watching the Florida/Tennessee game, and then decided that we just had to have oysters, so Adam, Jenny, and I walked down to the end of the street to a dive called Quarters. We drank lots of beer, watched football (and the locals) and ate our weight in steamed oysters. Graham and Elke had met up with us by that time, and so i walked back to Connie's, then hitched a ride with Graham and Elke to Connie's cousin Mimi's house. I had a bed all to myself, and slept until about 7 a.m. Graham and Elke, being childless, slept until much later, so I scavenged for food in the kitchen (all i came up with were some stale pretzels and a cold Coca Cola). I took them out to the covered patio, curled up on an adirondack chair, and munched while enjoying my breakfast. About this time, Addie came by on his bike, and we snagged one of Mimi and Harvey's bikes. I think it may have actually belonged to one of them as a teen in the fifties - it was rusted, no gears, and creaky as all getout.

This was easily my favorite part of the trip. Adam and I traversed the quiet streets of early morning Tybee, headed towards the back river. The only sounds were the birds and the occasional fellow biker, jogger, or dogwalker. Lucky bastards were drinking coffee on their cool porches, and at one point the smell of bacon frying wafted out to us. Without exception, every person we passed said a friendly hello. September on the island is glorious; this morning was about 70 degrees, under a sunny cloudless sky, and with a continuous cooling breeze. We took our bikes off the main road onto a gravel drive leading down to the river beach. I think I had forgotten the exhilaration of speeding up to make it through the sandy trail, or hopping sideways off a bike as it is still moving. We took off our flip-flops, tossing then into our bike baskets and pushed the bikes down to the beach. I definitely had forgotten how hard it is to put down a kickstand and prop a bike up in the sand.

We walked past the catamarans and out towards the packed sand at the water. Two kids and their hot dad were putting on life jackets and preparing to paddle their kayak out into the water. A few people were fishing from the docks, but we had the place pretty much to ourselves. Addie and I waded in, and talked about having kids, and there was such excitement in him about becoming a Dad. It made me feel old and young and full of wonder at the same time. I am so happy for him, and thankful that Rollie and Matilda will have a cousin so close in age. We rode back to Mimi's in our bare feet, chatting along the way, and I felt completely recharged. Some day i will live in a place where there is nothing I need that is not within biking or walking distance.

I spent the rest of the morning taking my car to get the tire patched. While the tire place worked on it, Graham, Elke, and I went to The Crab Shack. This place is totally touristy and ridiculous, but the steamed seafood platter is awesome. We sat out on the deck, downed coffee and sweet tea, and stuffed ourselves on more oysters, crab legs, mussels, potatoes, corn, sausage, shrimp, and crawfish. Just to really top off my Morgan Spurlock weekend diet (by Sunday night, I tallied up one large vanilla milkshake, two Quarter pounder value meals, one chicken biscuit, one sausage egg and cheese biscuit, two orders of hash browns, and one Arby's Roast beef sandwich with curly fries), we all split a piece of Key Lime pie. Afterwards, we checked out the gators and bunny rabbits, then I went and picked up my car and headed for home.

It was a sad weekend, but also a great weekend - It is so wonderful and comforting in sharing a common past with people, and knowing that no matter how much we grow, and move, and change, we still know each other as if we were six years old again. I will cherish the morning I spent with Adam - it is not every day that as an adult, you get to play for a morning with someone you played with every day as a child, and to think about what it will be like for your children to play with each other as well.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Remembering Tommy

Photo: Seth Gaines
PedernalI've been a little down in the dumps lately: Money has been tight; I am exhausted from keeping the house clean for showings; Rollie has been testing me in ways I didn't think possible, and Matilda is on the move (no more putting her down in the middle of the room with my keys and going off to mix myself a drink in another room). I am amazed how often these little boogers have to eat - three times a day! The pigs! - and that they still can't change their own diapers. I can barely wipe my own ass, much less keep their butts clean, too. It all just gets to be a little monotonous day after day, with little alteration in routine. Lately, all of it has been getting to me - i have been quicker to snap, more emotional in my disciplinary responses, and frankly, I just haven't given a shit what I was making for dinner. So what if they had green beans four days in a row? It's fucking green, isn't it?

Today I am not having as much trouble being present in the moment with my children and enjoying the time I have them. This morning, I found out that a friend of the family passed away from pancreatic cancer. He was the step-father of my favorite and closest cousins. He was a wonder of a man - part reticent cowboy, part peaceful observer. They say still waters run deep, and that is the idea I always got about Tommy. He seemed to watch everything and judge nothing. Sometimes it seems he was laughing at me a bit, but I never really knew what he was thinking, and I always wished that I did. He was one of the truly least judgemental, most accepting men I have ever met. There was something about him that made me feel comfortable and at peace.

Last night as I was coming down the stairs from putting the little ones to bed, I looked up at the t.v. and saw a familiar horizon. I was tivo-ing Antiques Roadshow, and it was an episode in Albuquerue, New Mexico. The vista displayed on the screen was a view from Ghost Ranch, in Abiqiu, New Mexico; It is where Georgia O'Keefe painted her most famous paintings. The camera looked out across the desert towards a lone peak, called Pedernal, flat as a table on top with a slope on either side. I immediately knew that view, because ten years ago this August, I sat on a picnic table at Ghost Ranch with Tommy, facing Pedernal in the dying light of the day. Neither of us said a word; it was one of those evenings that was so serene that you think of it when you need peace. Sometimes there are moments in your life where you feel everything around you more fully - the wood of the table under your hand, the breeze, the smell, the light and the shadow; all of the senses come together to imprint themselves on your memory as no photograph ever could. It is one of those moments in time that I have carried with me and will think about for the rest of my life.

Monday, September 11, 2006

September 11th

I was thinking about what to write about today, and it just seems like the only thing i should write about is 9/11. Everything else seems so trivial in comparison. I had trouble falling asleep last night, so i was thinking about how things have changed in the last five years. I was also thinking about the fact that September 11th was such a watershed moment for everyone who experienced it, and that for those who didn't experience it, like my children, they will never know what it was like to not have the threat of terrorism looming in the background of everyday life. I also thought about a conversation I had with my Grandfather, who turned 90 this year, about September 11th. I asked him if the event seemed similar to Pearl Harbor. He said that it seemed much worse, probably because the whole thing took place right in front of our eyes on television; we watched it in real time (my words, not his) and he said that Pearl Harbor was something you just heard discussed on the radio afterwards. He also said that at the time, Hawaii seemed like a world away; it wasn't even a state at the time. I am glad that I've had the chance to ask Pop so many questions about his life, and about what he thought of world events. I think almost daily about things i should have thought to ask my grandmothers: Which of my Grandma Smith's grandmothers was the one who found a dead civil war soldier while picking berries with her sister? What did she think about seeing the lynching in Louisiana as a young girl? (She never told me that story. I only heard it later from her niece.) Why did she marry and divorce before meeting my grandfather? What was her mother like? What were her grandparents like? What stories did they tell her?

I decided last night that I would just write about my memory of September of 2001, so that one day my grandchildren won't wonder what my experience was during that time. I might even add it to the online archive of September 11th Stories. Most of the stories I read on the site are generic, "Where I was on September 11th" recollections, much like my own, but there are also some really graphic depictions of what it was like to live in D.C. or NYC that day. There are also some interesting stories about being on flights that morning and diverted to other countries, or about being in labor. Many of the stories just reminded me of how our country was somehow made better in those first days after the event; Strangers were kinder to one another, and we told each other we loved one another more. We were all stripped bare and frightened and angry and sad; We all experienced the same event and the same emotions, some of us more closely affected than others, but all of us changed in some way by the tragedy of it all. We were more unified for a few days and weeks than I remember being before or since.

Here is my recollection of the events before, during, and after that day:
In early September of 2001, Todd and I were newlyweds living in a two-bedroom bungalow in East Atlanta. We had married in April of 2001 and in those first days of September, we flew to Seattle for a friend's wedding over Labor Day. Looking back on that weekend, there was something of a "last stolen moments of naivete" feeling to the weekend; A carefree feeling that we didn't know to milk the most out of, but later would look back upon as being a calm, relaxing, fun weekend that we could never quite recapture. A few days after returning from that trip, Todd turned to me in bed one night, and said he thought maybe we could try to have a baby the following spring. I remember being so thankful that I had a husband who was so ready to start a family, and whom i didn't have to push or nag into marriage or fatherhood. I have the luxury of knowing that he wanted me to be his wife, and he wanted to have children with me; I never had to ask him for either of those things. Those days just before the 11th were so, pardon the pun, pregnant with possibility for us and our future. I remember feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.

On Tuesday September 11th, I woke up alone in our little house, and went about getting dressed and leaving for work. Todd was out of town on a shoot in Baltimore, and I had that luxury of married people: The house to myself. I remember thinking to myself as I left the screened porch and went out to the driveway that it was a glorious day, sunny, and as so many people have said since, strangely bright, beautiful and clear. The sky had not one cloud in it, and the air had the first hint of Autumn in it, a crisp, clean smell that only those first days of Fall can have. The next thing i remember about that day was pulling my sunglasses out of my purse; it was so unbelievably beautiful a day that I had opened the sunroof, and I was wishing I could play hooky. I was listening to a cd, but don't remember what, and then I flipped over to WSB 750 am., because I like to listen to Neal Boortz, and his show starts at 8:30. It was about at the point that I took the 400 N exit ramp and there was first discussion of a plane hitting the World Trade Center. The first reports were of a small plane hitting it, and then the local station cut over to the CNN feed and there was a woman on the phone with CNN. She was in her apartment in Manhattan and saw the plane hit and said she thought it was not a small plane. I knew from the sound of her voice that it was a big deal and that she was scared by what she was seeing. I continued listening to the radio as I pulled up to my office building near Lenox. By the time I got out of the car, the second plane had just hit. I walked in the parking deck, and it was so quiet and normal there, just like any other day. I think that people didn't necessarily know what had happened yet. Some were laughing, or talking business on their cel phones. A few other people looked a little somber, but even then, I hadn't seen the footage, nor had any of the people walking in from the parking lot, so I know there had been no realization yet of how serious it was.

I went into my office, grabbed coffee, and the place was pretty quiet. My office rarely kicked into high gear until ten or so; it was a fairly young company and people often came in late in the mornings, or drank coffee and chatted for the first hour or so. I turned on the clock radio I kept on my desk, and it became apparent, just in those few minutes it had taken me to get into the office, that this was very serious. There began to be discussion of other planes being hijacked, and early on, there was misinformation about the White House having been hit. I think that was actually when the Pentagon was hit. A few coworkers heard my radio and we huddled in my cubicle trying to make sense of the rapid information coming in. There were reports of D.C. locations being evacuated. Around that time, our office manager came by our floor and let us know that the customer presentation area big screen televisions were up and running, so we grabbed coffee and headed up to that floor. We had two huge television screens and most of the employees were sitting on the carpeted floor watching CNN and a local news station. Other employees were using phones and trying to reach employees who were flying or in New York for business that day. At this point, there was almost constant replay of that second plane hitting the tower. I am still haunted by the images of people lining the windows in the upper floors of the buildings. I remember thinking that they needed to get helicopters there to help them out. It just hadn't yet entered my mind that those towers would collapse. Everything about the day was unthinkable. It did not sink in until I realized I was watching people jumping to their deaths. The quiet in the room was heavy, and the only thing I heard was people muttering, "Oh My God," in disbelief, over and over. Occasionally one would say "Fuuuck." I heard an occasional sniffle, and saw men and women wipe tears from their cheeks. When the first tower fell, there was complete silence. People openly had tears running down their faces and just sat awestruck with their jaws open.

One voice in the room was becoming a little more panicked - a coworker's friend or family member was on a plane that morning somewhere in the Northeast. She was not sure where the girl had been going as she evidently traveled all the time, but for about fifteen minutes, the coworker thought that her friend was on the plane that went down in Pennsylvania. She was almost physically trying to keep herself calm and choke down panic. When the call came in from her friend, she absolutely lost it, and there were a number of us who became really choked up hearing the relief in her voice.

We continued watching as the other tower fell and it became apparent that there was no control in the situation: News reporters were scared and cut off from what was happening; false reports of attacks on other targets came in; Everything was in a constant state of confusion and there was a sense that anything could be a target at this point. It was at about this point that our building was evacuated and we were sent home for the day; We shared a building with part of Bank of America, who had evidently received terror threats.

I left for home, calling my sister, who also left work and was meeting me at my house. When i got there, two guys were finishing putting up our backyard fence. They hadn't even heard anything about the attack. I told them to get lunch, and if they didn't want to come back that day, I would understand. They never came back.

When I got home, I called my husband, just to hear his voice. I figured he was okay, but it made me a little nervous that Baltimore was so close to D.C. He said that he watched the whole thing in a sports bar where they were shooting, with televisions everywhere. He had called his friend who lived in D.C. He was okay. We didn't know anyone who lived in NYC that hadn't been accounted for, although I did think of an ex-boyfriend that I knew lived there, and I hoped that he was okay. Todd planned to rent a car and come home that way, once we realized he would not be flying out any time soon.

I sat watching CNN for a long time before my sister got there. By this point, it was apparent that many, many people had died, and there began to be stories and callers who had talked to loved ones who were trapped. In particular, i will always be haunted by one girl who had talked to her brother and he had told her to tell his parents he loved them. She didn't talk to him again.

My sister arrived not long after that and I realized it was after noon and I still hadn't eaten. We went to Grant Central pizza in East Atlanta, ran into my next-door neighbor and his friend, and ate a slice and drank a beer and watched the coverage. There was a sense of guilt that I felt having a meal that day. Everyone on the street and in the restaurant was subdued and quiet, glued to the television, as if somehow someone would finally come on and explain the whole thing to us.

That night, I sat alone and watched more news - there was nothing but news on all day. What I remember about the later news that day was people in New York holding flyers of their loved ones, hoping someone had seen them. The whole thing was gut-wrenching and I could not stop watching, because for days and weeks after that, there was a sense that we would be hit again. President Bush spoke on television that night. I am not sure how he will be remembered as a president over the long haul, but at the time, he was pretty universally lauded as doing a good job immediately after September 11th. It seemed surreal to watch members of congress stand on the steps of the Capitol and sing together.

I will never forget hugging Todd when he came in from Baltimore, tired and relieved to be home. In the days following September 11th, the thing that I most remember is how unified we all seemed to be as a nation. Even in my ultra-hip neighborhood, people had hung flags on their houses and porches. There were flags on mailboxes and in yards, dogs wore flag bandanas and I couldn't believe how many cars had patriotic bumper stickers. There was a commercial at the time that showed a typical american street and said something to the effect of "they tried to change America forever. And they did." The next shot was the same street, but completely decked out in American flags. It was very much like that everywhere in the United States.

A close college friend was getting married on September 20th, and her bachelorette party was the weekend before. I had plans to fly to both. It was only a short flight to Greensboro from Atlanta, but the thought of getting on an airplane that Friday terrified me. Air traffic resumed on Friday morning, and my sister and I went to the airport to catch our flight. We were warned to get there very early, and we did. What surprised me was not the level of security (there were military personnel there with what looked like machine guns, and every bag had to be opened and searched before being checked), but how nice everyone was to everyone else. The other thing that struck me was the number of people who were there just to cheer on those of us who were flying that day. Some people were even handing out little American flags to people boarding planes.

The flight itself was downright eerie. It was almost empty. Everyone was a little jumpy. It didn't help when they pilot came on the speaker and told us that they would do everything they could to get us to Greensboro safely and that they would expect us to do whatever was necessary to protect the safety of the aircraft. This was, I guess, a reference to those passengers who brought down Flight 93 a few days before; it was not exactly reassuring, though. I would be lying if I said I didn't look around the cabin to see if I saw any suspicious passengers. Or if I said I didn't order a drink as soon as it was allowed.

My friend's bachelorette party was held at a cabin in the NC mountains and it seemed very safe to be away from the city. That may sound stupid, but there was an ongoing sense of being under attack for weeks after the tragedy. The girls there that weekend were impressed that Lisa and I had gotten on the plane. Truth be told, I was terrified to do so, but it somehow seemed like something one had to do for their country. We had fun, and there was much drunkeness and laughter, but there were moments where we were all a little sad. The wedding the following weekend was the same way. A lot of people didn't fly in for her wedding, though, because they were scared to fly.

In so many ways, life went back to normal in the weeks afterward, but then in so many ways, they didn't. There was a black cloud hanging over everything. But there was also a sense of hopefulness that I think has been lost in the ensuing war with Iraq and in the dissension between political parties. I do not know if that will ever be repaired, and that worries me, because I think another attack will happen and I think we will have a much harder time coming together as a unified people when it does. I fear the infighting and finger-pointing that will take place when the time comes. At the time, though, I thought of the child Todd and I wanted to make and I wondered if it was such a great idea to bring a little one into such a wicked world. In the end, though, I knew that what makes humans so amazing is there ability to keep living after events like this one. I knew that the best thing I could do was give birth to and raise exceptional children, children who would value the freedom and responsibility that comes with being an American.

Thursday, September 07, 2006

Why?

Is it that on the day when:
  • Rollie gets his hep vaccine
  • I go through the five steps of grieving over the news that Rollie needs to give up the nap
  • I begin weaning Matilda by cutting out a feeding
. . .some bitch realtor leaves a message on my machine at 3:45, after I have left for the gym, that she will be bringing a client by at between 7 and 7:30 pm that evening. I arrive home at six, the house is in an uproar, and I start to pull out items for our dinner before listening to the goddamned message. Upon hearing it, I quickly call Todd's cel, knowing he is on the treadmill at the gym, to tell him to hightail it to the grocery for cat litter, which of course we don't have on hand, not knowing that the bitch is bringing the people by tonight. I throw the shit back into fridge, make Rollie go outside, and put Matilda into the exersaucer (or as Rollie calls it, the "babysaucer.") Todd arrives home and we proceed to clean the house in about a third of the time it usually takes to do the same cleaning job on a weekend. We then pack up the kids (both crying at this point) and then take them out to eat at approximately 6:45 pm (roughly 45 minutes before their usual bedtime).

They were angels at dinner. Love me some babies. Those assholes so better by a house.

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

First Day of School

Rollie started his 3-day a week Mommies Morning Out [with cranky Matilda] today. Todd followed us over to drop him off (aw - Great Dad Award!) and we put his backpack on him and sent him in. He never looked back.

The preschool is great - very small. There is one three-year old class, and there are only 12 kids in it. Rollie has a teacher, Miss Michelle, and she is assisted by Miss Janice. Rollie was so excited when i picked him up; he had a great time, and almost fell asleep in the car before we got lunch. After lunch, he and Matilda both went down for long naps. Now it's Mama's Afternoon In.

Tuesday, September 05, 2006

Our Boy Wonder

Rollie received this really cool superhero cape from the Reids for his birthday. (Thank you notes for that and the rest of the gifts are written, but damned if I know when I will get them in the mail. Damn, I am lazy.)

There is something really magical about him running around the house with the cape on, pretending to fly, and telling us how fast he is. Not so wonderful? Trying to capture lightning like that on film. Here are the attempts . . .






Monday, September 04, 2006

Retraction!

I would like to issue a retraction on my last post. I regret that I may have exaggerated a bit concerning my husband's likes and dislikes in entertainment. You see, Todd does not just like television and films with junkies and hookers; Todd is a well-rounded viewer with a diverse taste in entertainment. My very sensitive and thoughtful husband has been known to watch the occasionally G-rated film, and in fact, I witnessed him shed a tear, in the theatre, during the end sleigh/snowing/Santa/carolling scene in the feel-good Christmas film, Elf.

This man has a heart of gold, people. He kisses babies, and saves puppies, and helps little old ladies across the street.

I apologize fully for any mental anguish suffered by Todd due to my careless words.

Friday, September 01, 2006

Whore!

Todd went out with the boys to watch the South Carolina game last night. When Todd goes out for an evening, that is always my night to catch up on all my Tivo-ed shows that I can't watch when he is around. I could watch them, but as he is a merciless entertainment snob, his snide comments take all enjoyment out of the viewing. As we say around our house, if there are no hookers or junkies in it, Todd does not deem it worthy of viewing.

So, on the Thursdays when he and the boys go out, I open a bottle of wine (always with the goal of only having a couple of glasses, but usually with the result that the bottle is empty at the end of the night) and then watch crappy television. Last night it was Raising Helen (not as crappy as one might think! Or maybe that was the wine talking) and then a couple of episodes of my guiltiest of all guilty pleasures, Laguna Beach.

As I was finishing up the second episode, and the clock edged towards 11 p.m., I knew that Todd would be home soon. I knew i was setting myself up for some major ridicule if I was found cradling my last glass of wine, huddled on the couch with the dog, enraptured with Laguna Beach. This is where, in my wine-muddled state, I came up with brilliant justification for watching LB.

You see, I am 34 years old. 16 years ago, i was 18 years old. Matilda, on the other hand, is ten months old; in 16 years, she will be about 17 years old. Laguna Beach is my link with Matilda, a halfway point between the two of us. Therefore, my viewing of Laguna Beach is research into the mind of the teenage girl. It is me keeping up with what girls do and think and say. It is me peering into the future world of tiller.

Whatever. Why am I trying to justify this? I am such a drunk, crappy teen t.v. whore and I am proud of it.

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