Sentimental Journey

I had the occasion to drive from the north of town to the south of town this weekend, and it made me a bit misty and reflective, thinking about all that's changed since I moved here. I was thinking about the days when the Man and I were not yet married, and we used to carpool together from Decatur to Sandy Springs, which seemed, at the time, a crazy commute, but that's just because we had just moved from St. Augustine, Fl, where the biggest impediments to getting to work on time were a)getting stuck behind a horse, and b)the bridge being up. Twelve years later, we're seasoned Atlantans, and a 30 minute commute seems like child's play.

I was thinking about Decatur, and how proud I am of that little town and how far it's come since I moved here, because Decatur is pretty much my center of operations, being the location of my church, bank, and favorite local haunts. (Not to mention it's cool enough to have been referred to as "the intersection of Berkeley and Mayberry".) But then I approached the downtown skyline, and noticed that the Westin building seems to still have some issues with windows. I heard somewhere that the windows had proved difficult to replace after they blew off in a tornado. I, personally, think the building looks charming, like a snaggle-toothed six year old, and adds to the personality of the skyline.

While I was trying to remember when that tornado was, and looking at the skyline, I got this weird flood of memories of downtown...walking briskly uphill from the parking lot to the Fox Theater with friends, laughing because we were out of breath; driving around trying to find restaurants (more than once) where I was supposed to be meeting the owner; going to the Tabernacle/House of Blues for concerts; going to Fairlie Poplar for an arts festival; seeing the Andrew Wyeth exhibit at the High with my mother, driving the wrong way out of a parking lot quite by accident and coming terrifyingly close to a wreck, only to realize that I'd also completely avoided the parking charges that way. Just a bunch of snips and snaps of pictures of times spent down there, over the years, and it occurred to me that this is pretty much my home town now.

It's weird, because my family moved around a lot when I was growing up, and I don't really lay claim to a "home town". I was born in Gainesville, Florida, lived in Jacksonville, but also lived in Massachusetts, and then in Orlando. Orlando is the closest I come to a home town- I was there for all of high school, and lived there for part of my adulthood as well. But by now, I've lived the longest here in Atlanta.

The funny thing is, if you ask me why I live here, I can give you a long list of reasons, many of them cultural. I love the fact that we have a symphony, an opera, a great museum, arts festivals, music festivals... an embarrassment of riches, culturally speaking. The Man and I used to seek out opportunities, but we haven't been to any of those places in a really long time. The closest I've come to culture, recently, is the Center for Puppetry Arts, an abbreviated version of The Nutcracker at the Fox, and an abbreviated version of Suessical the Musical at the Woodruff Arts Center. These excursions were all field trips with the homeschooling group, because, frankly, since the arrival of Small One, we don't get around much anymore.

Funny how a trip from a far north suburb has got me thinking about all I'm missing. I have a renewed determination now to actually take advantage of the wonderful things this city offers, because I truly do love this place.

How about you? Do you love your city? Do you make the most of the opportunities around you, or do you, like me, take them for granted a little bit too much?

Southern Girls 101

My brilliant, beautiful friend Kim recently purchased a shirt that reads:

"Sassy, charming, classy, bright, beautiful, belle of the ball, sundress-wearing, sweet tea drinking Southern Girl... do I look like I drive a pick up truck?"

It made me giggle, because I'm a Southern girl too, and some of the myths about us are downright silly. We don't all like country music, we don't all own confederate flags, most of us don't drive trucks. Especially in the larger cities, many of us are downright metropolitan, though I will admit we do like our grits. But I thought maybe I'd provide a refresher course on a few key points, in case any of y'all are confused, and would like to maybe blend in a little more when you travel down here.

1. Southern girls (and by girls, I mean any age, of course) wear panty hose to formal events. Now this tradition has loosened up a little bit in my generation, and we no longer are REQUIRED to wear them to church, as long as our legs are shaved and we have good pedicures, but anything more formal than the 11:00 service requires panty hose. Weddings, funerals, baby dedications, you name it. This is a tradition, by the way, that makes no sense at all, because it is hotter than the very hinges of Hell down here, but I would never say that out loud. Going bare legged is something that's just not done.
2. Southern girls are taught by their mamas that certain things are "just not done". No further explanation is needed, and if you could see the facial expression that goes with the phrase "just not done", you wouldn't ask for an explanation either.
3. Southern girls are demonstrative. We hug, we kiss on the cheek, we clasp people's hands, we pat shoulders and backs. We touch you when we're talking to you, and we call you things like "sugar" and "darlin'". The only exception to this outpouring of affection is anyone with whom we are romantically linked. If you are involved with someone, any public sign of affection is considered distasteful and trashy. If you're sleeping with him, you'd be advised not even to look in his general direction in public. You can possibly get away with holding your husband's hand in church, but don't make a spectacle of yourself.
4. Southern girls are empathetic, and by empathetic, I mean we bring casseroles.
5. Southern girls think hair is very important.
6. Southern girls bless people's hearts. This is a very useful thing to do, as it allows you to remain kind even when the rest of your statement could be considered questionable. Example: "She went to that new salon, and got a haircut that is just HIDEOUS, bless her heart!" The phrase can also be used to mean "better that person than me", and is useful as a caring conduit for gossip, as in "she's been all alone with those six kids ever since her husband ran off with his secretary, bless her heart". "Bless your heart" is an appropriate response to any tale of angst or woe. It can also be used in cases of genuine empathy, as in "she's been really ill, bless her heart, so I brought her a casserole."
7. Southern girls sometimes use the term Yankee. Now, there is a misconception that this is an insult, or a Civil War reference, but no, it's actually just a descriptive term for anyone who does not live here and probably does not know which things are just not done. It is an excellent way of excusing bad behavior, because other Southern girls know exactly what you're talking about. Example: "His daughter flew in for the funeral, and she didn't even bring any panty hose!" "I know, darlin', but what do you expect? She's a Yankee, bless her heart!"

Burning Question of the Night

If "salagadoola" means "minchica boola roo" BUT the thingamabob that does the job is "bibbiti bobbiti boo", then why bother with the first two? They are both synonymous AND, apparently, ineffective. Inefficiency, people!

But hold on, now... what's the other part? "Salagadoola, minchica boola, bibbiti bobbiti boo...put them together and what have you got? Bibbiti bobbiti boo." Seriously, if it all comes down to bibbity bobbity boo in the end, why bother with all the extraneous words?

I'm putting that last sentence on a t-shirt, I think.

Or MAYBE I should make it a hard and fast rule that the Man is not to set Small One's night time cd to only repeat just the one song, no matter how many times she insists that the godmother song is the only one she wants to hear, lest I end up in a padded room somewhere.

Pursuit of Happiness

Small One was in a grouchy mood tonight, despite a fun day. Truth be told, it was probably because she had such a fun day, she was a bit tired and out of sorts by dinner time.


She had a delicious meal in front of her, lovingly prepared, featuring vegetables and brown rice, mixed berries in yogurt, and turkey meatballs, made by her own mama, with fresh herbs from our own garden. She ate all the fruit and demanded more, and when I suggested she eat the meatballs first, she sulkily picked at the aforementioned fresh herbs. "What's this green stuff?" she asked, scowling.


I was losing patience. I said, "As I already told you, it's the wonderful herbs we grew together in our garden. But should I just let you dip the meatballs in ketchup? Would that make you happy?"

Not too pleased about it, I squirted some ketchup on her plate. She looked up at me, with a huge, radiant, and genuine smile.

"Oh!" she said, "Ketchup! Now I'm happy! The ketchup made me happy!"

Ahhh... if only happiness were always so easily attained.

Thursday 13, Happiness Edition

Thirteen things that have made me smile this summer (in no particular order):

1. My brother's marriage to a lovely girl I've long considered family
2. Small One's performance at their wedding
3. Growing my own garden, and eating what I've grown


4. The return of Middle Child


5. Oldest's graduation from high school



6. New friends


7. Cherries on the back porch of a mountain house


8. Old friends



9. Boat rides


10. Disney World
11. The Man

12. Newlyweds


13. A coop raising party

And I have to say, in coming up with this list, I'm struck by the abundance of my life, because it could've been the Thursday 30, easily.

Wordless Wednesday, High Fashion Bag Edition

In Everything Give Thanks

I think of myself as a thankful person. I try to look on the positive side, and notice that, in the grand scheme of things, I'm a very blessed person. I strive to be a Christ follower, and to remember that, as such, I've been instructed to give thanks in every situation.

But some weeks... well, sometimes it's hard to do. Weeks, like this one, when our financial outlook seems bleak, the ongoing job hunt seems everlastingly unproductive, and the to-do list seems longer than my actual lifespan. On top of it all, this week my Small One is not feeling well. I won't burden you with the gory details, but it hasn't been fun for either of us.

On reflection, though, there's a lot of good here. We have very kind and understanding landlords. We are blessed with health and love and caring friends and family. The most surprising thing I've noticed today, though, is that sometimes even the bad stuff has something good to offer.

Small One is not so small as she was. I delight in her accomplishments, but I also think wistfully of her babyhood, especially when I have the opportunity, as I did last night, to hold a very new baby. In this case, he was 12 hours old:

My little tornado is not so quiet. She is, in fact, sometimes utterly ear-piercing. And independent! Wow, is she independent! She is what one might refer to as a "pistol", if one were being kind. She is constantly telling me what she needs to do next or, more to the point, what I "NOT needa" do... ie, put her in time out, get her to pick up her toys, put her in bed, etc. She's always been an intense little creature, always with a plan, a study in motion.

But not today. Today, she's a baby again, a snuggly lap girl, a "you needa hold me" girl, someone who wants nothing more than to put her head on my chest and let me pet her. I hate that she feels ill (though today I think she's just worn out from yesterday), but the hidden blessing is that I get to love up on her, and she gets to remember that Mommy is a safe and warm place. And I get to notice that as big as she seems sometimes, she's still very small and soft and snuggly.

Life, even with the bad, is good.

Note to Self

Dear Future Me,

From here on out, please refrain from announcing to the world that your week will be peaceful. I know you THINK you're being a positive person, but in reality you are merely ASKING to wake up to a sick child, a broken appliance, a monetary crisis, and some sort of animal waste combo. So, while I appreciate the sentiment, I'd prefer to just take it as it comes, and only make announcements that are truly verifiable, such as "oh, my child is napping at this moment".

Sincerely,

Me

ps- At this moment, my Small One is napping, the figurative fires are temporarily out, and there are no actual fires or other catastrophic events occuring in my home. Thus, I think it would be prudent of me to take a nap and try to reboot this day.

Making Sense with a Small One

Middle Child is gone this week. She left this morning, at 6am, headed for Kentucky, to spend the week working with Appalachian Service Project. I am immensely proud of her for this, despite the fact that it meant I had to spend a bunch of money I didn't have on things like work jeans and safety goggles, and I also had to get up at 5am today. "5 in the morning" is a misrepresentation, in my opinion- it should be called "5 in the middle of the night". That being said, I've spent my life studiously avoiding any awareness of that time of day, only occasionally bumping into it from the midnight side. It is proof of my devotion and pride that I roused my carcass at that time today to drive her somewhere, rather than simply kicking my husband until he got up and did it.

In any event, because she's going to be gone for an entire week, I thought I should address the subject with Small One. Small One is crazy about her big sister, and asks me incessantly where she is if she even leaves for a few hours, so I thought maybe I could do some preemptive question answering and save myself some "but where IS she?" time this week. Here's how it went:

Me: Hey, did you know that your sister went on a trip this morning?

Small: She went away? Where did she went away?

Me: Well, she went on a trip with a bunch of other people...

Small: (interrupting) A bunch of people? What's their names?

Me: They have a bunch of different names, but they're from our church.

Small: Where they going?

Me: They're going to Kentucky, to do some work.

Small: They going to work on a ducky?

Me: No, they went to a place called Kentucky.

Small: Kenducky?

Me: Sure. And they're working on houses for people.

Small: They work on the people's houses?

Me: Yes, they work on people's houses to make them safe and warm.

Small: Because the people are sad?

Me: Er... sometimes, sure. But your sister is going to help work on the houses to make them safe and warm. Isn't that nice?

Small: Are they sad because they miss their mommies?

Me: Maybe, but your sister is going to help them with their houses...

Small: And they miss their daddies?

Me: I don't know, sweetie, but isn't it nice of your sister to...

Small: What's their daddies' names?


Yeah, I don't think that went particularly well. Safe travels, Middle Child! I'll be here answering nonsensical questions all week.

The Glorious 4th

Ahh, the 4th of July! Parades! Fireworks! Meat on the grill! (Or in the case of the Man, non-meat on the grill. This year we're doing a portabello with provolone.)

It's a funny kind of holiday for me, in many ways. I'm very sentimental about America, and our freedoms, and actually have been since I spent some time in Yugoslavia as a teenager. But the holiday itself is rather a non-event, particularly this year.

My family is all over the country. My sister is a violinist with the Nashville Symphony, and plays a concert every year that is typically televised nationally, but on cable, so we never see it. We used to go to Florida and see my mom sometimes on the 4th, but it's such a brief holiday, it's rather inconvenient to drive twelve hours in one weekend. My husband's family has a mountain house that we sometimes visit, and that's pleasant, but only available if my in-laws are in town. Oldest is at an age that involves a pretty active social life- I'm growing increasingly wistful about how little I see him, and his day will include many activities, but few that will involve us. Middle Child is preparing for a church trip to Appalachia, and will be leaving at 6am on Sunday, so her mind is elsewhere.

Today, we'll have a cookout with the Man's brother and his family, and that will be nice... Small One in particular loves to play with her cousins. Then we'll head to downtown Decatur to watch the parade and fireworks from the lawn of our church, and that'll be nice too. If we're lucky, we'll see my cousin and her family during the Decatur festivities. None of it's terribly exciting, but maybe it's too hot to get all excited, anyway.

The most exciting 4th of July in my memory was in 1997, when my divorce was finalized on the 3rd. I found it extremely apropos to celebrate Independance Day that year, and the fireworks seemed to belong to me, personally.

Nowadays, the most exciting part of the 4th is deciding what Small One wears. I'll admit, she's a clothes horse, though I'm proud to say I never shop retail. My most thrilling hobby is collecting her wardrobe for pennies on the dollar, and it's almost embarrasing to admit, she has 4 outfits from which to choose this year, all equally patriotic.

She could've worn last year's, as she's still a peanut, sizewise. (Though I never realize how much she's changed in the past year until I see the pictures together!):

I got this dress for her to wear to church the day after, but unfortunately, (for her wardrobe, anyway), it's a children's ministry holiday. Oh well, she'll look patriotic another day!

Then there's this one:

But we decided on this, it seemed cookout, parade and fireworks worthy:

I hope all my readers are equally well attired, equally well loved, and have an equally nice Fourth of July, and maybe even an exciting one as well!