Another Sign of the Apocalypse

My Mom is now on Facebook.

Winning the Lottery

You probably would not know it, even if you know me pretty well, but sometimes I get depressed. It's never enough to make me unable to function (well, there was that one time after I had the baby, but that was just the hormones), but I just get down. Blah. Uninterested. Bluesy. I don't really want to leave the house. I don't really want to clean the house I don't want to leave. I don't want to do anything at all. It reminds me of when I was a kid, and it would be raining, and there was nothing to do, and I kept on driving my mom crazy, but whatever she suggested sounded like absolutely no fun to me, and the feeling was just pure frustration.

When I get this way, i think I hide it pretty well from everyone but my sister and my husband. God knows, Todd has certainly been seeing the ill effects of my recent melancholy in the sorry housekeeping I have been doing. But for the most part, I really try to overcome my down days, to find things to do to pull me out of the depression, or at least keep me busy until it passes. Which I guess means that I am not truly depressed at all, because I can still function, can still see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Well, it just seems like lately i have have been bored, depressed, whatever. Maybe it's the holidays, maybe it's watching both mine and Todd's parents deal with their own aging parents, when they should be enjoying their retirements and their golden years. Maybe it is feeling helpless at not being able to make all of the people I love just have it easier, or just get a damn break once in a while.

I am still feeling a little down, but you know what helps? When one of your oldest and dearest friends calls and asks if you can drop everything and help her out by going to New York with her for the weekend. All expenses paid. Because her husband was supposed to go with her and something came up with work and now she will have to go by herself.

Um, okay. I guess so. What? Hells to the yeah, I'll go! What depression? What boredom?

Who won the lottery?

I did. When I was born to the most awesomest, givingest Mama ever. When I started playing rec-league b-ball with Mealby "Take a Look at My Choices" Barron, and when I met the most understanding, laid-back, fun-loving, hysterical - and yet responsible - man EVER and made my smartest life move yet - Marrying his ass.

My Dad and sister and kids and cutest dog in the world? They are icing on my life cake.

Charleston Recap

We started with dinner at Coast. Very good.

Then we dropped Mom off at the hotel and headed to The Blind Tiger for drinks with the wedding peeps. It was funny, because I had been to this bar before, only a couple months after Todd and I started dating. His friend Kate was married at the same place that my friend Marc married at Saturday night, and the night after her wedding, everyone went out for drinks. We went to the Blind Tiger, where Kate passed out at a table in the courtyard. Ah, memories.

We had to wait a while for our friends, and Lisa is knocked up, so she was pretty much over it by the time they got there, but she perked up when she saw old friends and managed to stay out for a good while. I stayed longer, and had the pleasure of chatting with my old friend Pierce's wife, Fowler, for a good long while. She is awesome, which I totally would have imagined for Pierce.
They next morning, Lisa and I headed out for coffee and shopping. We hit the Farmer's Market, which really consisted of us oohing and aaahing over all the cute dogs people were walking around. The weather was perfect. We walked all down King Street looking at shops and I even saw real live fancy shoes at Bob Ellis. I think if I ever were rich, I would have a shoe problem. Plus, shoes and makeup are fun because they don't make you feel fat. Lisa and I both bought matching heart necklaces and did the sister bonding thing. See how cute we are?

After that, we met up with Mom for lunch. It was a good thing we started looking for a lunch place when we did, because if we had waited any longer, Pregzilla might have eaten Meeting St. We went to Monza for pizza, because that's what sounded good to the zilla. It was really good, and the service was great, and they played Wilco and Bloc Party, and once Lisa ate something, she was a human again. If any of you are paying attention now, you will realize that Lisa is wearing the sweater I wore on Saturday night. It is hers and really comfy. You will also realize that I am wearing the same shirt from the night before. I know! I packed like 500 things and did what I always do - Ended up wearing the comfortable tee. It's my signature look.

After lunch, Mom and Lisa headed home to nap (?!!) and I found a bar with as many tvs as possible so as to assure that I saw at least the first half of the Georgia/Kentucky game. I sat with some lovely Ohio State fans, and some not-so-lovely Gators and Vols. Most people were watching Ohio State/ Michigan. I had to leave at halftime to go get dressed for a 4PM wedding. Evidently, people from the Carolinas and Texas did not get the memo about NO WEDDINGS IN THE FALL IN THE SOUTH. It was explained to me later by the Texan groom that they just don't do weddings on Sundays, because of the Cowboys. Whatevers. UGA won, and I was spared the heart-attack and heartbreak-inducing Tenn/Vandy game. Arrrrgggggh.

Found the lovely wedding location, Lowndes Grove, with time to spare. I always wonder what Yankees think of the south when they see a place like Lowndes Grove. Do they think that Southerners are immune to the beauty of such a place? Do they think regular folks live in places like this? Not so. I am in awe whenever I am in a place like this. The weather was beautiful and the ceremony was timed perfectly to coincide with a lovely sunset over the Ashley River. Wedding went off without a hitch, even with that tricky "speak now or forever hold your peace" part. (Oh, the thoughts that went through my head just then, little Marky! Exploding hotdogs! Underage preteens passed out on my parents parquet floor! The never ending retaliatory prank calls the bride will endure!

Okay, here are the rest of the pics, taken before the reception was over and we got to the too-drunk-to-operate-camera, much-less-my-own-two-mysteriously-skinned-up-legs portion of the evening. Twas not pretty, but was better than my horribly-hung-over Sunday. Note to self: When drinking copious amounts at open bar, also partake of dinner buffet.

Me and Marc's college roomie, Mitchell, who lives in Midtown.








Lisa, Fowler, and my Mom.








Two not-so-sober old acquaintances. I hadn't seen John in almost 20 years. I think the last time I saw him I was cleaning up puke at Aunt Dot's house. He was probably 15. Got to meet his wife, Ashley, a sassy and cute Aussie.







The reasons we were there - My mom and the Groom's mom, Judy, who were childhood friends in Chattanooga.

"The Stadium is Worse Than Bonkers!"

This is kind of a sad day for me as a Bulldog fan. Tonight is the first game in my lifetime that won't be called by Larry Munson.

This article is a good overview of his career, and includes some of his greatest calls. My first recollection of Larry calling a game was about 1984. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was twelve years old and it was a cold and rainy day in Georgia. I played soccer on Saturdays at the Roswell soccer fields. By high school, we would call these fields and their parking, just off the high school campus, "The Water Tower." As in, "meet me at the Water Tower," or the more exciting, "Fight at the Water Tower after school today." Good times. I think we were waiting for my game to begin, sitting in the warmth and dryness of mom's red station wagon. I'm not sure if Lisa was there, and I have no idea where Dad was, but Mom and I listened intently to Larry's voice on the radio as the cold rain poured down.

"So we'll try to kick one a hundred thousand miles. We're holding it on our own 49-and-a-half ... gonna try to kick it sixty yards plus a foot-and-a-half ... and Butler kicked a long one ... a long one ... Oh my God! Oh my God! ... The stadium is worse than bonkers!" - calling Kevin Butler's field goal in the final seconds to win over Clemson in 1984"

You would have to know my mom to have any idea of the response this elicited from her; Words cannot do it justice.

I know a man needs to settle down, but Larry will be missed.

About an Old Friend

There's a pretty cool article in today's New York Times, written by Aimee Mann, about "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band." This weekend is the 40th anniversary of the release of the album; It came out about five years before I was released.

The interesting thing about the article is that she reminded me of what I thought of the album as a kid. At 35, I have lots of other ideas about the album that I've picked up here and there throughout the years, but she reminded me of the sheer curiosity with which a child picked that album up out of all of her parents' other albums.

I am a lucky girl - My parents listened to some pretty cool stuff. Mom liked folk and rock and roll: She was a card-carrying member of the Elvis Presley Fan Club, but also listened to The Everly Brothers, Ricky Nelson, The Beach Boys, Bob Dylan, Jan and Dean, Crosby, Stills, and Nash, and Peter, Paul, and Mary. I still remember wondering what "Virgin" meant - One of her friends had written it on her Bob Dylan album cover. (Her name is Virginia.)

Dad listened to rock and roll, too, but his tastes leaned more towards Jerry Lee Lewis and lots of 60's soul. I still to this day think Otis Redding is the best "cleaning up the house on Saturday" music ever. I wore out all of the Otis discs and that Stax/Volt Review album he had. My sister and I put on clown makeup and danced around the playroom to the Everly Bros.' "Kathy's Clown." To be fair to my parents, they also listened to some great classic country and 70's honky-tonk Country and Western, too. People, we had a dog named "Waylon." I shit you not.

Nothing, however, could compare to the magic a kid felt looking at that Sgt. Pepper's album, and then finding that what was on the inside was just as other-worldly. In later years, Sgt. Pepper's was the album I listened to (on endless repeat, all night long) the first time I did LSD. In fact, that experience made me not want to listen to if for years and years after.

But after reading Aimee Mann's article this morning, I decided it was time to pull it out and listen to it again. Okay, i don't have the album anymore, but Todd has a Beatles problem, and we own 22 Beatles albums; We could listen to The Beatles for 17 hours straight, according to ITunes. So, here I am, listening to "Good Morning, Good Morning" and thinking that it has been too long since I listened to this old friend.

Gotta go. The dog is barking. Oh wait. That's just Sgt. Pepper's.

Happy Mother's Day

To all the Moms in my life, and especially to my own Mom. I never knew just how much work it took to raise such perfect children. You did a good job - Lisa and I rock. [wink]

Moms, make sure your peeps are being good to you today. As Todd told Rollie this morning:

"It's Mother's Day. That means we have to be nice to Mama."

Amen.

Wow. Warner. Makes Me a Little Wacky.

First of all, Mom seems to be doing pretty well. Visited her in the hospital (hospy, to family in the know) and she seems better than before. Still hoping they will keep her a while longer, as she is precious cargo, and I would be afraid that Dad and I would screw things up here at the house.

2nd of all, if my father ever says he got "really good movies" at the video store, you should be scared. That usually means that you are going to be watching Iron Eagle II. Mom and Dad have a tendency to bring home the same movie over and over, not remembering that a)it wasn't that good the first time around, and b)they already saw it. Ask them how many times they have rented the movie where Michelle Pfeiffer is dead and comes back to life (or something? have not seen it.) Anyway, the answer is "tons."

That being said, I almost keeled over when the movies Dad picked turned out to be Last King of Scotland and Borat. Unfortunately for Dad, he wasn't too jazzed about LKOS until people started bleeding a lot, and unfortunately for me, that meant he talked a lot during the first half. Dad doesn't do dialogue. He does however like to namecheck the movie Manhattan, referring to it as a "social commentary," even though I don't think he knows what that means, or if he has even ever watched the whole movie. I also think that if he knew it was directed by that Commie Woody Allen, he wouldn't talk about it so much.

All of the above two paragraphs are so not the point of this post. The point is: OMG. Forrest Whitaker is really good, and really scary as Idi Amin. I am also a little surprised that the lead kid wasn't nominated. I thought he was actually really good, and you never heard that much about his performance.

Also feeling some Darfur guilt after watching it. Like, yeah, this happened in the not-so-distant past in Uganda, but here I am sitting and watching a movie while similar shit is still happening.

Must go drink another glass of wine. Do not be jealous, as it is Cecil Wine. That means that he opened a bottle like six months ago, stuck the stopper back in, and tells visitors that it is "perfectly good." Note to Palmer guests: It is wise to bring a "hostess' gift" of whatever it is you like to drink.

p.s. Love and kisses and hugs to all of you that have called and emailed and checked in on us. We love our Mama. Glad you do too.

Danger!

I come from some wild women. . .



This was in my mom's family photos. The photo says "Mother 1870," but that seems a little early for this one, especially since the sign says something about auto insurance. Would love to be able to research the clothing to date it more accurately. We are also not sure who "Mother" is (she is the one third from the right), but have it narrowed down to one of the following:

• My Grandmother Vivian's mother, Ida Stevens Dunstan
• My mother's Aunt Zelma's mother who, do to an out-of-wedlock pregnancy and adoption, could have referred to her birth mother, who was my grandmother's mother (Ida)
• Ida's sister, Beulah, who adopted and raised Zelma.

Confused yet? Anyway, I love the picture and think it is just the coolest thing ever. They look like trouble. I think they are holding instruments, too. Nice twist.

This is my mom (right), with her best friend Judy in Daytona Beach.



Then there's Grandma and Aunt Dot. My cousin remarked that he thought this picture was staged. I don't think so. This is what family gatherings in my childhood looked like. Seriously.



I'll leave the wild woman pictures of myself for Matilda to blog. Plus, I ain't finished. Grandma and Aunt Dot were still doin' it in their 80's. I'm not even 35 yet.

You Think You've Seen Some Shit?

My grandfather turns 91 today. You ain't seen nothin'. He's seen four wars (not including these two latest ones), the holocaust, the coming of electricity, running water, automobiles, the telephone, the radio, and television. I'm pretty sure he thinks the way a mouse operates is simply magic.

I wrote a really long post about him for his 90th last year. My mom thought it was cool. Yes, my mom reads my blog; Frightening, no? Just what you want your mama to read: This, or this, or this. She printed the post out and showed it to him. He read it, smiled, and was quiet for a few seconds, then said, "I guess she'll just put the death dates on later." He is a funny guy. Happy birthday, Pop! I love you!
That's us together in Christmas of '77: From left - Dad, Me, Grandma Smith, Pop, Lisa, and Grandma Palmer.