And so this is Christmas...

As I sit snuggled on the couch, feet toasty in an early present to myself, I watch the opulence of the final shopping day of the season on the Today Show and I reflect on how hard it must be for my good friend who lost her father yesterday.

So, rather than reflecting on the lights, the rush and the pretty presents, I'm thinking about Shannon's loss and the gift she had. Shannon shared her father's birthday - it was probably the earliest sign of how close they would be throughout her life. And, whether it was due to their shared sign or just their blood, they also had matching personalities. Dad Goodman was smart, intensely protective of his loved ones, deeply caring but quiet with regard to those feelings and he loved the freedom of his motorcycle.

Not many people get to know her at this level (she is her father's daughter, after all), so while listening to Shannon's tears, the story of her loss and the true sense of being lost over the phone, I want to be there to provide a shoulder, an ear - whatever she needs - all the while knowing nothing can make this better.

Yesterday, Shannon lost her best friend. And, now, I understand the meaning of a Blue Christmas.

The best Christmas EVER

I think most of us have a special holiday memory - one that, should no other holiday stand out, will forever be THE memory. For me, this memory is Christmas of '81.

You see, every year, my family would drive to Oak Ridge, Tennessee to spend Christmas with Aunt Kathy and Uncle Lou. Grandma was there each year too... and since 1976, my aunt and uncle added a new face to the family every two and a half years (they stopped after 81).

As we arrived, the most amazing sight was the glimmer of the bubble lights on Aunt Kathy's tree. (I put them on my tree to this day). Each Christmas Eve, we would turn off the room lights, sit in front of the fireplace with hot drinks, talk about our Christmas wishes and stare at the beauty that was the Christmas tree. Then, each of us kids was directed to our respective beds.

In 1981, though, because the number of kids was growing and the number of rooms was not, I was set to sleep in the formal living room - which overlooked the downstairs. Aunt Kathy came around to tuck us all in bed and I drifted off to sleep with the sounds of my parents, Aunt and Uncle still talking over the soft music downstairs.

I awoke to a room lit only by the stars outside the front window and a sound I KNEW was Santa. I rubbed the sand from my eyes and crept to look down at the tree. And that is when it happened. Innocence was lost. I spied Uncle Lou playing with a game that only Santa was to setup. The toys Santa left each year were the only ones not wrapped when we gathered in the morning and Uncle Lou was putting mine together! After a few moments of taking it all in, I slipped back to the couch and went back to sleep.

Please understand, it was a bittersweet moment. I had reached the age that I was fairly certain about Santa's existence or lack thereof and now I had my proof. However, there was a joy I saw in my Uncle that night...a smile that I have since learned is rarely seen outside of my presence. It is a smile I will always remember and a moment I cherish.

Who's your Daddy?

Tuesday was just not a great day. Nothing craptacular of note, just nothing good with a few "seriously!"'s thrown in for good measure...but enough of a notably "not good" day that I struggled to smile through dinner with friends - even with two shots of tequila.

So, Wednesday, I decided, would be better. On my way to the office, I stopped and picked up a Starbucks Hot Chocolate sprinkled with just a skosh of espresso for pep. (I don't normally drink caffeine and never drink coffee, but I was stacking the deck). As I sat at the light on a calm back road just a third of a mile from the office, I repeated aloud: "It will be a better day. It will be a better day. It will - " -----BOOM!! A car hit me from behind. Really.

No damage to the car, just a little spilled hot cocoa and a reminder of who is in charge.

Christmas time!

I know, I know... it's been a while - as Karen says, maybe the muses left me. Somewhat, but not entirely, true. I have been thinking about writing on many different topics, but my memory lasts as long as a spark when you're trying to light a campfire with two rocks and a wet stick. So, here goes:

This time of year brings out the best in some people! It's an awesome sight. And, then, there's the woman from the Indigo Girls concert the other night. I was in the SRO section, standing farther back than I wanted originally, but still able to see with the assistance of the sloping floor. That is, until she stepped in front of me and stopped in the dead center of my view. Now, here's the deal...I will add descriptors here because I'M TELLING A STORY, but none of them are at the heart of the issue.

The woman, it turns out, was most probably a man. And, the woman with him may very well have been his/her daughter. These two points are made only because the woman was much taller than average - somewhere around 6'5" (no lie). The younger woman - a friend decided in her Hallmark Channel watching mind- was his daughter. My friend felt sympathy for their apparent plight (the struggle of living your life judged by many and not comfortable in your own skin matched with the wrestling of a child seeing her parent in this struggle) and the tear-jerking story they were undoubtedly living. I was just interested in seeing the show. When I tapped the tall woman's shoulder and said, "DUDE, I'm standing right here!" the response I got back was, "I'm sorry I'm tall." REALLY?

Let me set the record straight because I am - most of the time - a really nice person. I could not actually care less about how she dressed and her relationship with the other woman.

The fact of the matter is it doesn't matter if you are man or woman, tall or short, fat or thin, old or young and of any race, religion or persuasion... RUDE IS RUDE.

What I should have been...

I've been working a lot lately. A LOT. And, so, I've been thinking about the roles I play at work and what I should have been...

A firefighter... I know I'm not alone in this one. I feel there are days I run from one fire to the next - and mostly, they feel like forest fires.

A lawyer... I often need to argue my case and negotiate for a better sentence (ok, project plan). I have to prove my case more worthy than others to get the attention it deserves... think of this as Martha Stewart and her posh prison versus Alcatraz.

A hostage negotiator...I have to get people to let things go. And, sometimes, that means talking them off the ledge too.

A comedian... because if I don't find humor in these things, I'd be on the other end of the negotiation.

The "DOH" factor

There are stories that I love to hear, but I'm not really sure why. It could be that I find immeasurable humor in human attempts at brilliance (only to be highlighted forever as 'the stupid mistake that caused more harm than good'). We can refer to this as the "DOH" factor.

One of my favorites is about Greenpeace and the "saving" of the baby seals. Now, it's not funny that the baby seals were being killed for their pelts. It is funny, though, that the 'savior' side of Greenpeace came up with the BRILLIANT idea of spray painting the animals a neon green color to ruin the coat and keep poachers from killing them. Here's the tee-hee: baby seals have white fur so they can blend in with their natural environment (keeping them safe from their natural predators). The green highlighted them so the natural predators were able to better see them! Brilliant, Greenpeace, brilliant!

I just read this one and love it too! I had no idea...Thank you Merriam Webster!

In 1898, the German pharmaceutical company Bayer began marketing heroin – whose name comes from the German word heroisch, meaning "powerful."

The product was marketed as a cough remedy made from a supposedly non-addictive morphine derivative. It was also used as a cure for morphine addiction – which unfortunately caused large numbers of users to become heroin addicts.

In part because of the growing population of "junkies" (a term that may derive from the fact that some supported their addictions by selling scrap metal), Bayer eventually ceased production and lost its trademark.

In 1914, American officials began regulating opiates, including the generic, powdered version of heroin.

Say what you mean

Ok, look... I know I take things literally - too literally sometimes. But, there's got to be a point when it is not about me being too picky. Someone has to step up and identify the egregious errors made in our common lives.

Sign on Clairmont: "Support Breast Cancer" - really? do we need to support Cancer of any type? I know attention spans are short - especially when people are driving, but let's just try to get it right.

Sign in a field on the way to Louisville, KY: "Used cows for sale" - at the risk of taking this one too far, let me just say - I'm not sure what constitutes the difference between a "new" and a "used" cow. But, frankly, I'm not willing to pursue that one to find out. At any rate, can we please get some clarity or mo(ooo)ve the sign? (sorry, had to do it)

Short - not so sweet

Have our attention spans really been reduced to less than 3 minutes? Please, if you know you cannot pay attention for more than a minute and a half, don't put popcorn in the microwave!

Stand for something

It's been a while since I stood up here on the soapbox... so, here goes. In my never-ending fight to repair our grammatically scarred lives, I've found a great link: Commonly Confused Words

It's clear we live in a world less about reading and more about speaking. (Great news for oral communicators) However, when we have to communicate in written form, the message is all too often misconstrued or - as my people put it - messed up. We leave an unclear message in what should otherwise be one of the cleanest ways of communicating. Frankly, it's frustrating.

So, to the Merriam Webster (yes, Joyce, M-W.com) list, I'm adding a couple more:

Capitol vs Capital
The Capitol (Washington, DC) is where we spend our Capital ($)

Their, There, They're
Their indicates ownership by "them" (just as His indicates ownership by Him)
There is a location other than "here"
They're is a conjunction of They and Are


Please feel free to respond with your own peeves.

My soundtrack

When I look back, I find that music has played a large part in my life. There are songs that immediately take me to a distinct moment in my memories. For example, with no good reason, Peaches and Herb are dead set in the middle of my first musical memories. I can start to hum "Reunited" and automatically see the swing set from Playskool (years later, it would strike me odd the school intentionally misspelled its name, but I digress).

So, I've been thinking about this lately... what are the songs tied most closely to memorable moments in my life... what is my soundtrack? Well, here goes:

A plethora of ABBA, Jim Croce and Neil Diamond songs filled the first years of my life. Mom had the albums (that's not a typo). Today, I can hear just the beginning of "Forever in Blue Jeans" and I am instantly in mom's living room, sitting in the old blue recliner (since relegated to the basement) and filled with the aroma of pot roast coming from the kitchen.

In elementary school, we sang Stevie Wonder's "Isn't She Lovely" and Whitney Houston's "Greatest Love of All," for a choral recital and I guess that was memorable, but Dr. Elmo's "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer" was a mantra in the holidays of my youth (ok... even today). Each time I hear it, I am transported back to my Aunt's split level house in Oak Ridge, TN with a Christmas tree glowing downstairs and egg nog being poured. (And, the shameful, but beautiful joy I got from singing loud and proud with the radio near the real Grandma).

I vividly remember the bright pinks and blues from my favorite t-shirt in 1987 when I was "Lost in Emotion" with Lisa Lisa and the Cult Jam and we spent wa-a-a-ay too much time at Michelle's house requesting that song on the late night radio shows. There were the days in Algebra with Ayanna and the teacher's unreasonably - impossibly - hyper flexible knees when we sat rapping "No Sleep til Brooklyn" by the Beastie Boys. (we could have been STARS!!)

When I got married, I warned the DJ (also my husband's manager and somewhat, friend) he would absolutely not be paid if he played Kool and the Gang's "Celebration" because it's just OVERDONE. And, though I don't have brown eyes, the only song I requested was Van Morrison's "Brown Eyed Girl"...I've just always loved it.

As I continued college days and met one of my dearest friends, I couldn't come up with a better way to express who I was then by having my sister-in-law (local country station DJ) dedicate "Friends in Low Places" by Garth Brooks.

Since then, life has continued to take its inevitable twists and turns. Songs like David Bowie's "Changes" take me back to all my high school friends with unimaginable futures, while "Bye Bye" from Jo Dee Messina and "Let Him Fly" by the Dixie Chicks will remind me of the sadness of letting go. And, yet that is followed by the beauty of finding a true mate in "Now That I Found You" by Terri Clark.

I could go on and on... obviously, in 37 years, there have been more than a few memorable moments and, of those, a large percentage have music that takes me back. Rather than walk you through the rest of my life, I'll just say that at points in my life, some music has been poignant while, at other times, it was just a good background song.

So, what's your soundtrack?

Odd...that's all, just odd

I might have to revisit my theory on vegetarians. I've always said that they were cowards and that veggies had no chance for escape while animals could run. With this article, I just have one question:

Do you think the mushrooms set up an ambush for the camouflaged hunters??



Aug 29 (Reuters) - At least 18 mushroom-lovers have been killed in accidents while hunting for their favourite fungi in the mountains and forests of northern Italy.

Mountain rescuers say eager mushroom seekers are abandoning safety procedures as they don camouflage and hunt in darkness to protect coveted troves, la Repubblica newspaper reported on Sunday.

"There is too much carelessness. Too many people don't give a darn about the right rules and unfortunately this is the result," Gino Comelli, head of the Alpine rescue service in northwest Italy's Valle di Fassa, told the newspaper.

Seventeen people have died in nine days -- six in 48 hours alone -- mostly from sliding off steep, damp slopes in the northern mountains, la Repubblica said in a story headlined "the massacre of the mushroom hunters".

Another person has been missing for more than a week, it said.

Ansa news agency said a man who had been hunting mushrooms was found dead on Sunday in the Alpine region of Valtellina.

A combination of August thunderstorms and hot weather has led to a bumper mushroom crop that has drawn the first hunters of what is expected to be a boom season.

It's the most wonderful season of all!

"It's FOOTBALL time in Tennessee!!" - these words alone elicit chills and thoughts of Fall afternoons, roaring fans and the wonderful sound of Rocky Top playing endlessly. It is, without question, my favorite time of year.

Football season in the South... I'm sure there are similar seasons elsewhere, but it's a special time. Friendships grow, rivalries are renewed and fans hold their collective breath and pray to their higher beings for that one awesome play that puts their team on top.

School fight songs quickly replace the everyday ring tone on cell phones and kids - just like at Christmas time - have dreams filling their heads (this time of Quarterbacking or Cheering, rather than Sugar plums and toys).

Whether you hunker down with the UGA Dawgs, purposely misspell "Go" for LSU (GEAUX TIGERS!) or wear on everyone's nerves with obnoxious colors, coaches and players (most commonly Florida teams)- right now, we're all unbeaten!

It's GREAT to be a Tennessee Vol! Let's play ball!

The best way to fly... off the handle

There are very few things (in fact, I can't think of another) I would label as magnificent. That's just not a word I use often mostly because, used more often, it would lose its significance. That said, I found one this week: Steven Slater's exit.

"JetBlue flight attendant Slater made his great escape via a plane's emergency slide on Monday afternoon after a scuffle with a passenger. The passenger reportedly cursed at him and dropped a bag on Slater's head. Slater took to the airwaves, saying a few choice words over the plane's intercom and announcing, "It's been great." He then grabbed some beer, his luggage and slid off home. Those plane slides always did look like they'd be a much more fun way to leave the plane than walking down to the tarmac." ~ Washington Post

And, now, for a little musical humor, Jimmy Fallon:
Get Two Beers and Jump!

Eulogizing Alex

The year was 1986 and we were starting high school. There were so many new faces and a few stood out. Alex was one of those guys...as soon as you met, you felt you had known him for years.

When we first met, Alex was an imp. He was the kid with the biggest, goofiest smile. He had the quickest wit I'd ever known.


Alex kept your attention because you never knew what was coming next, but you knew it would be good. But he was more than just the funny guy. Alex had depth. He worked as an editor and cartoonist for our school paper (later, he'd play similar roles at Belmont University), he played several instruments and led the marching band.

Several years after we left high school, Alex laughed as he told me - in his earnest desire to understand the size of Nashville, he asked a professor at Belmont about population. She snidely remarked, "well, it's no Atlanta." He never did get her answer... (this type of remark is one we had both become accustomed to receiving - if you joke around, people think you are always joking).

But Alex, like everyone, had a serious side. He loved playing the violin... and, as with everything else he did, he was amazing.



His memorial service was bittersweet. His family originally planned for 50 people, so there were three rows for guests. By the time the service began, the number of rows had more than doubled and the chairs lining the walls were all full. Alex's college Violin professor came and played his favorite Bach concertos. His childhood pastor spoke lovingly of him as the "sprite" we all imagined the 7-year old Alex would have been...and, his adult pastor, while stating Alex had a very strong faith (though he had been disappointed by the church and had investigated other beliefs), said with a laugh in her voice - he could even be irreverent.



That's the Alex I will remember - the one that could get you to relax and just experience the joy of life.

All for one...one for all

We've travelled together before - and we do it well. We share an interest in getting to know the area from a local's perspective and we share the belief that good people attract good people.



This weekend, we went to Savannah - for a very quick girls weekend. Past trips have led to memorable stories(some repeatable, others not). This trip was no different! Suffice it to say, in a single night we were able to meet a world-renowned artist at Club One (escort her out of the club, sit on the hood of her car and talk for a while), toast to those who've gone before at Kevin Barry's Pub and become legends at Saya Lounge.

Love my girls!



As Ferris Bueller said, "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."

Rights or Wrong?

Yet another excerpt from Not My Native Tongue...


There are days when, no matter how much equal rights meant to women years ago, I have to wonder what they were thinking! Evidently, no one read the fine print. Equal rights apparently didn’t also allow for equal pay or equal treatment. I’m not going to hop on the lower pay soapbox, it’s out there, it’s a fact and there’s just no use in arguing about it. But, equal rights were supposed to get us out of the house and into the workplace. A majority of men these days somehow missed the point and expect that we will do everything. Did I miss the vote? Was there a ghost rider on that law that said “Silly women, housework is for girls.”?

I’ve done some very scientific research in this area. From my studies I have found that most chores, though admittedly some are unseemly, can be done by anyone over the age of 5 (race, creed and religion play no part – oh, yeah, neither does sex). So, here’s what I say… I’m not your mother. Heck, I’m doing everything I can to NOT be MY mother.

Don’t get me wrong - my intentions are all good. I want you to be happy, I want you to have everything you want but, most of all, I want you to be independent, willing to help out around the house and respect me as a person.

Simply...THE BEST

I have a good car - scratch that - GREAT car. I love this car. It's the first one I've kept long enough to pay off. But, that's not why I love it. I love it because it has everything I need - a good engine, great speaker system, CD player and a sunroof; a lot of things I don't need, but love - heated seats, leather seats, power windows and locks; and, it doesn't have what I don't need - a payment.

Since I've kept the car this long, I've also taken pretty good care of it. I make sure I get my oil changes, tires rotated and my mileage checkups as suggested. I do everything I can using one mechanic... James.

I have spent my fair share on new tires and scheduled maintenance items. There are some costs that are just part of keeping a car... but along with making sure my car is in good shape, James is also the guy that tells me, "No, you still have 40% on those brakes. Probably the next time you come in here, we should change them" and "Well, bring it in here and let me take a look at it" only to be followed by, "we fixed it... it was easy. Don't worry about it, no charge."

Today was one of those days. My car has been acting up - just a little - but noticeable to me. So, I called James and got the same response, "just bring it on in here, Ms. Edie, we'll take a look." No exaggeration, within 5 minutes of walking in the door, James was back with the issue identified. A dead cell in my Die Hard battery. And, (here's where you know he's awesome) he said, "you should take it back to Sears - it's probably still under warranty and I'd have to charge you $100 for a new one." Recognizing he was sending me away yet again with no charge, I told him that I should - someday - pay him for his work...

His reply:

"It's not always about Money."

Unbelievable

There's a right way and a wrong way to reply to me if you are a customer service representative. I've spent time being the rep. I have been trained to speak with customers, but I was also just raised to treat people with a modicum of respect. It's not often that I run into someone who so heinously massacres the role as I met yesterday.

I sent the following email:

Subject: Lead number: 5898261
Hi. My sales lead says she got our message and accidentally erased it. Can you please reopen this case and have someone contact her (if you get her voicemail - and you probably will - please don't close the lead for that.) She's interested and wants to hear about our products.

If you cannot reopen this case, please let me know.

Thank you,
I signed my name


And, received the following response:

Dear Agent,

Good day!

You will have to obtain a Control number from her. Or simply set up a new Slim lead.

If we may assist you in the future, please don't hesitate to contact us.

Keesha T.

More than mildly offended by the cold address of "Agent," and always put off by the wording "you will have to..." as a response and the assumption "simply..." covers anything I put effort into, I replied:

What is a control number? You mean the lead number? And, who is "her"?

And, in return, I got a one-word response:

"Yes"


So, I called Keesha because email was certainly not meeting my needs. And, I found Keesha to be every bit as helpful on the phone.

REALLY?!?! Really. I mean, REALLY.

Karma

As we sat on the plane, preparing to get up and on our way home, a flight attendant asked us all to be considerate of those needing to make very tight connections. So, as directed, the majority of us sat and waited while the select few hastily grabbed their belongings and scurried to the front of the plane.

After a couple of minutes of calm - and since I was in the last few rows - I looked around and decided the coast was clear to stand and get my stuff from the overhead compartment. The others in surrounding rows did the same.

Suddenly, I hear a woman say, "do you have a connection?" and I turned to respond, "no." Then, she yelled, "they said to stay seated so that we could get out!" Flabbergasted, I did not reply. Fortunately, a woman right behind her was at the ready with "if you'd stop yelling at people and focus, you might already be off the plane."

Of course, I moved and let her by. In the next few moments, the rest of us were heading to the exit. As we neared the door, I heard several people's opinions of the woman's attitude - none were glowing. And, that's when it happened.

We entered the gangway only to see the connecting passenger swimming upstream against the rest of us. Seems she forgot something on the plane...and, my new counterpart from the back of the plane said only one thing as we passed her by...

"Karma's a BITCH." We laughed all the way to the terminal.

Charmed...I'm sure

I have a little "charm" hanging in my cube at work. Charm might not be the word, but I'm not sure what to call it really. It's a collection of 5 ideas for a happy life. I keep it on the cube wall to remind me just how simple life can be. And, though it is there everyday...I reference it only upon occasion.

So here they are:

1. Free your heart from hatred.
2. Free your mind from worries.
3. Live simply.
4. Give more.
5. Expect less.

Generally, these reminders are helpful. However, I may need to place the charm in my car. Because Atlanta traffic wipes the zen-ness away without a second thought.

1. As soon as I hit the entrance ramp, I remember I hate traffic.
2. While I'm driving with two thirds of the Southeast around me, I worry that the fool tailgating me does not have insurance (or good brakes).
3. I try to calm down and remind myself, I bought this car with its luxuries so I could enjoy the ride I do have to endure.
4. And, I recognize immediately that it is against the laws of Atlanta traffic nature (and any hope of personal safety) to give the other drivers more room.
5. Yet, I still expect to be treated with more kindness by my fellow drivers.

I'm no Dalai Lama.

Opening the trap...

Do you remember the days of believing everything you were told? Of being told and then going along because - well, that was the way it was? Or simply just believing because it was easier than questioning and then, (ugh!) following up?

Ok, truth is, I can be accused - rightfully - of falling into that comfort zone as recently as today (maybe). And, why not? Some of it is bound to be true/right/whatever...right? Most of it is of no consequence whether true or not. However, a friend recently challenged me to take a look further and, so here I am.

I'm beginning a new book (and, perhaps a new chapter - we'll see) called "Bringing It to the Table" a collection of essays by Wendell Berry.

Wendell Berry (born August 5, 1934, Henry County, Kentucky) is an American man of letters, academic, cultural and economic critic, and farmer. He is a prolific author of novels, short stories, poems, and essays. He is also an elected member of the Fellowship of Southern Writers. ~ Wikipedia

The challenge (and, no... my friend didn't say "I triple-dog dare you") is to look beyond the grocery shelves and see the entirety of the food supply chain (a term near and dear to my paycheck, if not my heart). She was explaining her thoughts on the humane or in-humane ways in which we Americans now feed ourselves. And, well, I rarely back down from a challenge.

So, here I sit, reading the first of Mr. Berry's essays. One in which he talks about the old days when farmers knew their land intimately and would farm based on the nature of the land. One sentence Mr. Berry applied to the farmer and the land struck me as important for conversations with ourselves, our land and others:

"A conversation is immitigably two-sided and always to some degree mysterious; it requires faith."

I'm gonna let that marinate for a while (pun very much intended).

No, I don't have an accent...

Often, the lessons we are taught as children come back to haunt us. In 1992, I was visiting Detroit with my boyfriend. The early lesson of looking both ways had apparently slipped his mind just long enough for us to pull out in front of a truck and I got the good fortune of experiencing emergency medical care in Michigan. I awoke to a nurse asking questions –

“What is today’s date?”
“May 7th”
“Who is the President?”
“Bush”
“Where were you born?”
“Atlanta.”
“Where is your accent?”

The southern accent found in Gone with the Wind is still around – I just never caught it. Through the years, I’ve been questioned repeatedly about being from the South and not having a southern accent. I’ve never been quite sure how to respond. Most commonly, my smart-ass side answers and minutes later, I regret those responses. And, in this case, my response was, “I must have left it in the car.” Now, I ask you, put yourself in my place…you are in a distant state, have broken bones, a concussion, stitches and a catheter – is your accent really the utmost of your concerns?

At any rate, if I did have an accent, I’d be treated like my IQ was about 30 points lower and I had 5 kids while in high school (the assumed ultimate level for my family’s education). This all goes back to the stereotypes – a little known fact: Not all idiots speak with a southern accent and not all people with southern accents are idiots. Much of this misconception is perpetuated by southerners, I know. For some ungodly reason, our camera crews seek out the most stereotypical person to explain the trailer home fire and the tornado…it’s like a train wreck – you can’t stop yourself from watching it, but you know it’s going to be ugly. And, it’s just not that often that our world-renowned heart surgeons get out of the OR to discuss the future of cardio health.

Sadly, the educated among us are also the ones who feel a lesser need to be in front of the camera to yell, “hey mama!” or “hey, y’all, watch this!” (often noted as last words). We sit back and shake our heads, awaiting the predictable response and the continued belief all southerners are idiots.

Where there's a Will...

My mother has always enjoyed travelling... across the country and internationally. Even with the numerous hijackings in the 80s and terrorists bombings like the plane over Lockerby, Scotland - she never swayed from her desire for oversees and international travels. Not to say she didn't consider the off-chance she'd become one of the unlucky few, of course. No, mom was acutely aware of the inherent dangers...and, it seems her awareness grew through the years.

To this point, as I grew older, mom felt it necessary to provide me with a copy of her Will. A wise decision, yes. However, mom decided to provide me with a copy of her Will every time she travelled. And, just in case I lost it, she also kept a couple of additional copies.

For a while there, in what seemed the safest of travel adventures, I felt we were having our last mother-daughter talk each time she left. The talk went something like this:

I've got a copy of my Will for you. Don't read it unless you have to...

Mom, seriously... did it change? I still have the last one.

It might have! Anyway, here's the key to the safe-deposit box. Also, I put a copy in the fire safe. Oh, and, another one in the freezer.

That's right... the freezer. Mom's never been accused of leaving a base uncovered. So, in the unimaginable (and, I mean that... I've tried to imagine it) case that I have lost my copy AND the safe-deposit key and then, somehow, the house burns down and the fire safe fails in its one-and-only reason for being - I can look in the freezer.

Bon Voyage, Mom...Bon Voyage

You're not from around here, are you?

Always good to open the month with an excerpt... here's the prologue to "Not my Native Tongue" (perhaps this should have been my first post for the blog)...



Those of us living in Atlanta know, geographically, we reside in the South, but Atlanta is not a southern city. I was born inside the city limits but, offhand, I can name fewer than twenty other natives that still live here. Seems like everyone else is a transplant – either because of work or family. I’m not saying that’s good or bad, but I will say that those of you who come looking for “southern hospitality” and don’t find it are dealing with people who aren’t Southerners.

Due to the influx of people born beyond the Mississippi River and the Mason Dixon line, it’s a whole different world here… a strange mix of metro and country, hicks and sophisticates, the best malls and the scariest flea markets…we’ve got it all. To say the least, the settlers in the area have held on to create a very interesting culture. I’m proud of my city – why shouldn’t I be? From slavery to segregation to bombs at the Olympics, it has weathered some of the toughest storms our country has ever known and grown into a wonderful place to work and live.

One thing that held true to the southern culture is that probably as much, if not more, than anywhere else in the US, we hold onto history in the South. Growing up here, you learn very early about the Civil War and Sherman’s march to the ocean. Occasionally, you’ll still see the stars and bars flying as you drive through the hills and you’ll still hear the reasons the South lost being batted around by the old timers, though less and less frequently. On summer nights, you can watch the laser show on the side of Stone Mountain and sing along with the King in his rendition of “Dixieland” as you see Jackson and crew gallop away into the horizon. 'Gone with the Wind' shows every summer at the Fox and Margaret Mitchell’s house is just one stop on the “must-see” tour for first time visitors (never been there myself, but I hear it’s nice).

Good or bad, right or wrong, all of these things have contributed to who I am today. I have built long-lasting friendships with women and men; I have found that color is a state of mind, and given the chance, anybody can do anything; I have learned that words, contrary to the old sing song, can hurt and that a strong mind and tongue can be used for good as well as evil. But, more than anything, I have learned that my attitude has affected every aspect of my life: people, places and things. Now that I review, it’s been a great time.

In plain sight...

Once, a very religious man sat in front of his TV watching the terrifying news of the impending storms. Warnings were blaring for residents to evacuate as the rivers were estimated to rise far above normal levels and floods were certain. But, he sat quietly with his belief that his God would save him - no need for alarm.

Sure enough, after a while, the rains came and the waters began rising. The man stayed calmly in his house. The door bell rang and it was his neighbor, Jim. Jim said, "come on, old man, let's get out of here." But the man, steadfast in his belief said, "thank you, but no, my God will save me." Jim hesitated but left.

A few hours later, the water was still rising. With water now up to his hips, the old man went upstairs. As he stood looking out his window, a rescue worker came floating up in a canoe and said, "Hey! Get in, I'll take to you dry land." But, the old man, still calm and now praying, said, "Thank you, but no, my God will save me." The rescue worker didn't want to leave him there, but had no other recourse, so eventually paddled to the next house to check on residents.

As the waters continued to climb, the old man was relegated to the roof in order to stay out of the rushing waters. As he stood on the peak of his house, a helicopter came by and dropped a rope. The rescuer above said, "Grab on! We'll bring you up and take you to safety!" But, the old man - a believer to the end - once again declined with the statement, "Thank you, but no, my God will save me." In a flash, the waters washed over the top of the house and the man was swept away.

When the old man arrived at the pearly gates, he was disillusioned. He took the first chance he got and asked, "my God, I believed you would save me, but you did not and now I have died...I don't understand."

And, God said, "I sent you a neighbor, a canoe and a helicopter - what more do you want?"

Catching up

I go through cycles - much like the washing machine.

{Agitate} This weekend, I thought long and hard about people I haven't seen or talked to in far too long - including one of my best friends. How do I let this thing called life get in the way? Well, I am here to rededicate my attention. Recent losses have me thinking about the time we have...it's not much.

{Rinse} So, to you - my dearest friend from the northwest... words cannot express how much I miss gardening (never thought you'd hear that from me, did you?), cooking and mixing the strangest (yet, tasty) concoctions with you. You know all the ins and outs of me...mostly before I do. This one is for you: An old memory.

{Spin} It's time for me to reconnect - even if I can't get out of the whirlwind (or Spin cycle, as it were) - to catch back up with all my friends, even if just through this post and a few follow up emails.

Now, on to the dryer and the never-ending search for that other sock!

If it ain't one thing, it's my Mother

Mom and Dad are driving to my cousin Frank's wedding in Maryland. Since it is such a long trip and mom's car recently burped up a transmission issue, they decided to rent a car. And, mom, being the practical person she is, found the closest car rental location to home - a Hertz at the Toyota World dealership.

Now, the issues with Toyotas have been well documented over the last year. In addition, the recalls and fixes have also shared the limelight. And, in stark contrast to the recent BP Public Relations work, Toyota seems to have handled the massive - could have been catastrophic - safety concerns very well. But, my mom is not quick to jump off the bandwagon.

Mom calls the Hertz (again, at the TOYOTA World dealership) and proceeds to tell them she does NOT want a Toyota.

Take a step back here for a moment...I work at a very well known transportation company...even though we have many vendors here, I would be offended if any of them said, "please don't send me anything unless it comes through FedEx."

The poor Hertz guy got no less than 4 calls from mom in a single day, as he searched for and requested any full size car but a Toyota to be delivered to his location. Finally, just after 5pm, the phone rings for mom. He has found and had another option delivered...a Nissan Altima. When I heard this, I smirked. (I had an Altima and shared my auto woes with mom throughout my ownership).

Mom, being her ever predictable self, turns to me and says, "should I call him back and tell him I'll take the Toyota?"

WHAT THE???

Yesterday, I visited a bar I have neglected for years... Fado! (http://www.fadoirishpub.com/atlanta/) I love the feel of the old Irish pub and the World Cup is a perfect time to join in the festivities. As you may or may not know, the original Atlanta Fado was directly on Peachtree Street in Buckhead, but a developer with big plans and unfortunate timing (didn't see the economy tanking) bought the strip to make the Rodeo Drive of the South (but I digress).

Fado Atlanta moved only a block away and reopened. However, due to the aforementioned economy issues, the construction site is still blocked by fencing and tarp - if you peer through the gate, you might also see tumbleweed. Yesterday, I parked next to the tarped fencing and stepped out of my car. And, here's where it got a little strange...

I saw a woman, in no way looking homeless or crazy, walking down the crumbled remains of sidewalk near my car. She was about 8 feet away when she knelt down next to the construction fence and began digging in a small hill of sand. Odd, so, I stood there for a minute and watched. She picked up something and turned her back... I could not see for sure what happened next. However, since I was of no consequence to her and she clearly had a mission, she didn't even look my way before crouching again at the sand pile.

This time, I had a better angle...she grabbed a fistful of sand and - no lie - put it in her mouth. She proceeded across the street to another sand pile and repeated. I was (and, truthfully AM) astonished. Had she looked like the average street person, I may not have questioned it, but she didn't.

I relayed the story to a friend and we researched on the iPhone. It seems there is a condition that drives people to eat things like Sand, Gravel, Drywall, Coal, Chalk, etc. The condition is called Pica. The condition's name comes from the Latin word for magpie, a bird which is reputed to eat almost anything. (from Wikipedia, so take it with a grain of...in this case, sand).

Three cheers for this mom...

Often, during lunch, I'll spend time catching up on my phone calls. As I sat in the shade of the parking lot maple, listening, sharing and laughing, a Land Rover practically squealed it's tires coming to a stop alongside me.

I looked over in time to see an obviously frustrated woman open the driver door and whip around the back of the SUV. Then, I heard it... I guess I knew it was coming and I was not alone. Her child must have known it was coming too. I heard the door open and mom pulled the kid out. Utilizing my best eavesdropping-but-trying-not-to-look-like-it skills, I heard mom say, "This is ridiculous behavior and you know it. Now, turn around!" Pop, Pop.

Like Santa, mom put the child back into the car and - in a flash - was back in her seat as well. And, they were gone. I did not hear a cry or a peep from the child - which indicated to me, he or she knew it was a well-deserved pit stop.

Now, some people might be horrified by this scene. I was cheering this mom along. Go mom... don't be afraid to teach your children how to act!

It's good to see the ol' "Don't make me stop this car" is in full effect.

Mahna Mahna

I grew up with the Muppets... love the old men in the balcony (Statler and Waldorf) and their witty remarks, of course Kermit and Miss Piggy are a mainstay, but my absolute favorite is...ANIMAL!!!!

That said, I always thought Animal was the star of Mahna Mahna... he's not. It's done by the muppet of the same name... essentially he speaks only his name... watch the video here and sing along (or, better yet, try NOT to sing along).

http://www.metacafe.com/watch/1303/ma_na_ma_na/

And, now, the remake with Sandra Bullock ("Phenomena")!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h5Mc55P1i9g


Enjoy and Happy Friday!

No political statement here...

Here's the deal, when reading this entry, don't worry about whether I'm a Republican or a Democrat (I've voted both ways in the past). This post is about having intelligent leaders. They represent us - that's the role they are elected to play...so, I prefer not having the world look at me like a fool...

That said, I always like to reflect on ironic events like this speech by Sarah Palin from February. Sarah's speech centered around the concept that 'We, the People, need a leader, not just a charismatic guy who can read a teleprompter.' Oddly, though, she decided the best place to keep her thoughts for the speech was ...drum roll please... the palm of her hand! Please feel free to review the attached link.

http://www.cbsnews.com/blogs/2010/02/08/politics/politicalhotsheet/entry6185820.shtml?tag=strip


When I saw this the first time, I had to send a note to a friend who sends anti-Obama mail my way all the time:

Subject: RE: SERIOUSLY, she was running for VP


Honestly. I want to think she is not this big of an idiot... I do. And, every time I come close to forgetting it and I say to myself, "no one should want to run for that job because the media and the public will tear you to shreds," she does something even more ridiculous.

Things she could have done differently this time:

1) carry a magazine or newspaper (ANY one of the many she reads daily per her conversation with Katie C.) and tape the notes to the cover
2) try memorizing: BUDGET, TAX, ENERGY and LIFT AMERICAN SPIRITS - because I understand how difficult it is to remember nuisance topics like those
3) use a teleprompter

REALLY?!?!

Today, after meeting with President Obama, BP Chairman Carl-Henric Svanberg told reporters in Washington: "I hear comments sometimes that large oil companies are greedy companies or don't care, but that is not the case with BP. We care about the small people." He later apologized and said he spoke "clumsily."

REALLY?

Methinks Public Relations at BP might be as bad as Spill Emergency Planning.

Blood, sweat and tears

June 14th is World Blood Donor day... did you know? The employees at the donation center didn't til they walked in today. I passed on donating at work last week, so I stopped by tonight on my way home.

Like everyone else, every time I give, I get to answer the same questions from the last donation:

Have you ever had a transplant?
Have you had a tattoo in the last 12 months?
And, then there's the questions of what your partner or former partners did before meeting you.

But, tonight, as I was clicking through the self assessment (always hoping to get the "right" answer), I saw a new one. Right after "have you ever been diagnosed with Hepatitis," there it was... Have you ever been diagnosed with Babesiosis? I read it quickly and erroneously as Babeosis (pronounced, in my imagination, Babe O sis). And, then followed that with my own questions:

What, exactly, are the symptoms of Babeosis?
And, Just how many opinions must you receive to be officially diagnosed with it?

I quickly decided I had been infected... because, of course, I'm awesome.

So, a few minutes later when Prem, the Red Cross associate taking my vitals, sat down, I asked him... "What is Babeosis?"

Prem, in his nicest, educated, somewhat condescending tone, corrected me... Babesiosis (correctly pronounced Bobby see o sis) is a parasitic disease much like Malaria, but spread by ticks.

It took no more than that description... I am cured!

First things first...

After the Valdez spill in March of 1989, Exxon Oil Company seemed to take a less aggressive approach to cleanup than the nation expected. Following the scenes of clean up crews with paper towels on the evening news, many people sent their shredded Exxon Gas Cards back to the company with just a touch of oil added to the envelope. Here's the thing...at the time, the Valdez spill was among the largest man-made environmental disasters. It spilled an approximate 250,000 gallons of oil in Prince William Sound.

No one knows quite yet how much oil has been spilled into the Gulf of Mexico. But we're beyond day 50 and the estimate is between 12,000 and 25,000 gallons are pouring in daily. Do the math. 600,000 to 1,250,000 gallons have been released into our water, our environment.

On Sunday, Tony Hayward, CEO of BP said, "I'd like my life back." He has since apologized for being insensitive... but Mr. Hayward, with all due respect from a former BP Amoco employee...

I want my ocean back first.

"Serving" you since 1973...

If you know me, then you know that I am a bit of a language -scratch that - Grammar freak. Grammar is at the core of many of my pet peeves.

As an example, just this morning, I was listening to the radio on my way in and, lo and behold, one of the personalities said, "irregardless." Honestly... once and for all... IRREGARDLESS is NOT a word. Just use your language skills to figure it out:

ir = not or without, (e.g. irregular - meaning 1 a : not being or acting in accord with laws, rules, or established custom)

regard = : attention, consideration (e.g. - regarding the question at hand...)

less = without

Put it all together - erroneously - and you get a combination that is a double negative and for all intents and purposes (a saying that will be noted later), is of no meaning.

Next item on the soapbox... while out at lunch today, I saw an example of misused quotation marks. I know that we forget the rules of grammar and language over time, but I honestly thought this was one of the easier punctuation marks to remember. Clearly, I was wrong.

(Note: to reduce confusion, I am refraining from using quotation marks around the sign wording)

The sign reads :

"Serving" Breakfast and Lunch since 1953. "Kids" eat free.

Do you think they mean that some people would call what they do "serving" while others think of it as "ignoring?" Or that someone eats free and, if I were to go there for lunch with my mother, I could eat free? (I am her kid, after all) I call my dog, Smokey, my son... does that mean they'll feed him too?

I'm not the only one driven insane by quotation marks...Check out this site: http://www.juvalamu.com/qmarks/

Finally, for this entry anyway, (For you, Gigi, and because I noted it above) a hint for all. Please know your cliche' and its meaning before use. I had a manager that would massacre the cliches. After every bloody (meant in the way of massacre, not of British cursing) use, my co-worker and I would cringe, laugh and repeat.

A couple of classics:

"Bleeding like a stuffed Pig" (how much can a stuffed pig bleed?) and "For all intensive purposes" (we didn't work in a hospital, but perhaps useful for the pig).

Now that I think about it...I'm glad he never used "Balls to the Wall."

Growing up Georgian

Another excerpt from "Not my native tongue" to lighten the mood:


We’ve all got our own stereotypes of different people and parts of the country. It’s human nature to take what you have heard as the truth until you’ve seen it for yourself. But, after spending the first 15 years of my life in Atlanta and then setting out on my travels to other parts of the world, I learned of one that never crossed my mind. Apparently, some people not from Georgia believe that we eat dirt. Now, without ever having been to New York, I would venture to guess that not everyone there is rude, walks fast and lives in Manhattan. I would also go out on a limb to say not everyone in California looks terrific in a swimsuit. And, finally, while I may be stretching it, I don’t think everyone in Las Vegas is related to the mob. So, let me help you out… beyond the mud pies I made as a kid, I’ve never eaten dirt. In fact, I don’t know anyone who has (there was that one episode of Oprah that talked about getting iron from the red clay, but I’m going on record as saying that doesn’t count).

That’s right, I said it. We don’t eat dirt. And, while I’m at it, I’ve never (knowingly) eaten roadkill, opossum or otherwise. I have heard of some who have eaten squirrel but, frankly, it sounds too gamey for my taste.

Now that we’re clear on that dirt-eating thing, let’s move on. We, and by we I mean a good number of people here, do walk around barefoot. Not because we can’t afford shoes and not that we have extra toes or webbed feet that don’t fit in Manolo Blahniks, but because it just feels good. It’s not natural to want to wear shoes - we all fight it as children – so why did you stop fighting it? My shoes are off as soon as I’m home. And, as long as it’s warm enough outside (55 degrees or more), I’m only wearing flip-flops when I do need to guard the bottoms of my feet. One word of caution – and I’m dead serious about this – when and if you decide to go barefoot, sandaled, mandaled (man sandals) or flip-flopped, make sure you have properly cared for your toenails and toes. Few things will draw more attention than poor pedi-maintenance.

Things ain't what they used to be...

Today, while reading the news, I just kept thinking about Marvin Gaye's song, "Mercy, Mercy Me" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U9BA6fFGMjI&feature=related).

It's a sad state of affairs and, while we don't know all that is happening, we know that our wildlife is suffering. It's not a hard path of logic to follow... we will all see the impact of this oil leak somewhere in our daily lives. I found this picture online today... (If you don't know, the brown Pelican is the Louisiana state bird) it speaks volumes.

I try to keep the blog upbeat, but sorry...there's nothing funny about this.

Happy Birthday, Grandma

She died five years ago Valentine's Day. And, while we were never close, there will always be a part of me attributed directly to her. She was the steadfast German...stubborn, hardworking and - even witty. She was the matriarch of the family, most times driving us crazy (and, through that, providing us many smiles and laughs over the years). She had an iron will and a silken hand. She was deeply rooted in her faith and easily voiced her opinion (which was often in direct conflict with mine). But, she was the mother of three, grandmother of eight, great-grandmother of 5 and she was ours.

Today marks the date of her birth 102 years ago. Happy Birthday Grandma and thanks for everything.

And now, for something completely different...

Last week, I joined my friend Jen on a shopping adventure. Well, an adventure for me... a normal occurrence for her. You see... Jen introduced me to Hair. Curly Hair, Straight Hair, Hair that comes in 12", 14" and I suppose more. As I pondered setting up my next VERY NEEDED haircut, I couldn't help but be consumed with the concept of BUYING hair.

You see, this weave and wig idea is new to me. And, I'm intrigued. So... into the shop we went...and, it was well, let's say, a little empty (but then, how much room can wigs and weave take up before they are just called a Hairy situation? -PUN INTENDED).

Nonetheless, I found something even more intriguing. Hair is not cheap - well, good hair isn't anyway. What constitutes "good" hair? Well, that would be a matter of opinion, but if you judge solely by price, it would be natural "unmessed with" hair. And, apparently, one good indicator that it hasn't been "messed" with is that there is a gray hair included in the lot o' locks. But I digress.

So...since it is expensive, you can actually put your hair on layaway... not kidding, check the picture. With all that said, I guess the good news for me is my hair grows far too quickly to even consider paying for more; the better news is I wouldn't have the patience to worry about it and the best news for me is my hair is clearly on the good side (see Blog Post "And so this is Monday")

The Arwoods

With the Memorial Day holiday well on its way out the door...time to update the blog with the latest happenings.

Since we last interacted, I attended a wedding in Hilton Head - actually Bluffton, SC. At the beautiful - albeit - expensive resort, Palmetto Bluff (http://www.palmetto-bluff.com/default.asp ).

Daniel and Anne Arwood make an exquisite couple. The parties - er, um - rehearsal dinner and reception were imaginative (who thought of the Grits bar?? LOVED IT) and exciting. The family made it all that much better! Truly, an enjoyable event and well worth the travel.

If you get a chance, visit the site - maybe even the resort. It's GORGEOUS and it is actually everything the opening of the website promises.

Catharsis

Every once in a great while, I get to see myself growing up... it's nice. Today I had a mature and cathartic conversation with my ex. In it, he stated, "if I had known then what I know now..." Of course, hindsight being what it is, we know we are different than we were, but it is nice to hear.

So many things have changed over the years, some have not. I genuinely like this man and am pleased that we are able to do what most people think is crazy or impossible - remain friends.

People are crazy

Ok, look... I don't like to be a tattletale, but in my recent travels, I felt the need.

I got on the plane - like many others, I'm sure, since September 2001, being more cognizant of my co-passengers. Across the aisle, an older gentleman (used loosely today) sat using his iphone. As the announcement blared for what seemed to be the 20th time and with the steward coming down the row, the man finally pulled his headphones off and began putting the phone away. However, the screen was still on as he slid the phone into his planner.

It made me uncomfortable... I just kept thinking, there's a reason the FAA has determined we should turn off our electronic equipment. In fact, the FCC and the FAA have agreed. Our phones transmit signals that can interfere with air/ground communication - in one case, a cell phone has even been identified as the reason the autopilot turned off in flight.

So, after our initial approach began, and the announcements were repeating again, the man was still on his iphone. The steward caught him this time and stood over him while asking the man to turn it off. The man said he did, but the screen was still on and the steward asked..."so, that screen is just a set screen? It's off?" and the man said yes. The steward walked away. The man started talking into the phone.

Here's my struggle: normally, I don't care what people do... I'm fairly laid back. But, when it comes to my safety and anyone's apparent lack of attention to it, I'm on full alert. So, I looked at him and said, "are you going to turn that off?" and he had the gall to say "No." Just that bluntly. Clearly, he doesn't get arguments from women often - or at least pays them no attention... unfortunately for him, I'm not accustomed to being ignored or simply patronized and I don't take it laying down. I pushed the call attendant button right in front of his eyes. No less than a second later, that phone was off.

The moral: Don't piss off a woman.

Not my native tongue...

So, I began writing a book some years ago...below is an excerpt, hope you enjoy.


I started dating him when I was 16 – “a very mature 16.” He was a friend of a friend driving a Corvette and in college. He was the knight in shining armor keeping our less-than-reserved acquaintance from slobbering all over me to show off to his friends. As we stood there, in the driveway, all the stars aligned, there was peace on Earth and the birds were chirping. Then our acquaintance began making a scene and havoc broke loose… we scattered in separate directions and drove off into the sunset. I thought I would never see him again, but ended up going to his house the very next evening. It was the beginning of a fairy tale relationship.

Ten years later, the fairy tale fog lifted, the clouds broke and my first husband became my ex-husband. While I don’t suggest it for everyone, divorce helped me to discover a whole new world – reality – it’s not my native tongue, but I’m beginning to be quite fluent.

Pot... meet Kettle

The other day, while sitting at the vet with my beloved Smokey Joe (a.k.a. Smoke Dog), I had the most bizarre discussion... sharing it here for all to enjoy.

Smokey needed a rabies update, so we went to the vet. While we were waiting, I sat next to a woman with a cat. After a few minutes and very little chit chat, she stated she was drawn to pray for me. She asked if it was ok... now, I don't turn down Flu shots when the doctor asks (because I have a little voice in my head that says I will inevitably catch it if I turn it down) so I did not turn down prayer... I mean, really, why would I?

She asked if my back was hurting and I said no, so she asked what she could pray for...well, I decided financial health is never a bad thing (especially at the Vet!)So, she said a very nice prayer for God to watch over me and to provide - as he always does. I said Amen and thought we were done... I was wrong.

It seems that my attire (cargo shorts, t-shirt, flip flops and a ball cap) alone drove her opinion of me (I called it lazy, she called it Lesbian). And, she decided to tell me that God had helped her get off of drugs and alcohol after 20 years and she felt she needed to share. Get this... apparently, God loves me even if he doesn't agree with my lifestyle.

Now...not having spoken to this woman previously and certainly not having shared an iota of my life with her, I'm not sure how this revelation came about, but I did feel the need to say Amen. (Mostly because I thought... well, God does love everyone - even the ones who throw stones).

You see, I KNEW God didn't think I should be working for a living. That said, if you could all send $20 my way, I'll get on with a lifestyle God and I would both appreciate.

Thanks in advance!

P.S. Please tell your friends... I don't have enough followers to make the financial impact both God and I desire.

Traveler's complaint

There are times when we all have complaints about other areas of the country or of the customs in each area. I am a huge proponent of following up with a local about these issues, however, if you ask a southerner, you should expect a blunt response. When you write me with a complaint, you’ll receive a friendly shot back across the bow.
A friend of mine recently wrote to tell me of the woes he experienced while driving to Disney World from Louisville, KY. I’d like to share that note with you…

I know you’re a native of the great state of GA, but I have to say, after driving through that state last week (on my way to Disney World), it was by far the most horrible driving experience I’ve dealt with. I can name 10 different problems with the highways in the state of GA, but I’m only going to identify the top 2:

2. Delay in cleaning up 7-car pileup, including a FedEx truck (go figure), caused me to wait over 5 hours in traffic, and miss the first half of the University of Louisville Final Four basketball game. I finally moved enough (using the emergency lane, although a truck tried to run me off of the road) to get off on a ramp in Vienna, GA. We stayed the night in a five star hotel (please detect sarcasm), whose primary income comes from the sale of Pecans.

1. State’s decision to work on greater than 150 miles of road construction on I-75 (the most traveled roadway to FL) during Spring Break for many different states, causing major delays in Valdosta (I also stayed the night there due to construction on the way back from Disney), cities just south of Atlanta, and cities just north of Atlanta (i.e. Canton).

Per my Maps On Us map and my TripTek, the trip should have taken a shade over 13 hours. However, due to the traffic issues in GA (I went through FL, TN and KY and no other state had these problems), the total amount of time each way was closer to 18 hours. Obviously, I’ve learned my lesson and I will never drive that distance again, and if I must, I will avoid GA at all costs. Do me a favor and vote for the other person in GA if there are any elections this year.

Thanks. I hope to hear from you soon.

Well, of course I responded in support of my state and with some common sense…

How's it going? - from your note, that may not be the question to ask. As with any state, there are many secrets only the natives know about Georgia and none of us are allowed to divulge them all without being extradited to some crazy-ass state like Kentucky. So, here's what I CAN tell you....

1) The 5-hour FedEx delay was actually a clever advertising ploy by DHL trying to demonstrate to a captive audience that "when it absolutely, positively has to get there," FedEx is not the optimal choice.
2) In most states, that 5 hours would have seemed MUCH longer (Kansas and Arkansas being two great examples).
3) Emergency lanes should only be used in case of emergency - no one in his/her right mind decides that Vienna (pronounced VI-enna) is a proper place to rest your head without owning a farm there - hence the "nuts" signs undoubtedly surrounding the motel. And,
4) the trucker was trying to warn you.

As for the construction, consider these points:

Millions of teens, college-aged kids and young parents travel that stretch of highway every spring - a rite of passage of sorts. However, Georgia businesses gain minimal exposure and revenue from these treks when they are too smooth. Florida, on the other hand, gets millions upon millions of dollars based solely on the fact that they have salt water on three sides. I ask you, how is it fair that we endure the crowds, the additional traffic and the crabby attitudes of cooped up travelers and they get all the payback? It's not. I give you Georgia's response for revenue sharing.

Ya'll come back now, ya'hear?

Carte Blanche

Last night, a group of us went out to dinner. Most of my friends know I like to let the server decide what I will have… for a couple of reasons:

1) it’s fun
2) they know better than I which items are good, better or best
3) I find I don’t explore new things as readily by my own choosing

Once again, as the server, Stuart, came by to get our order, I made my announcement.

“Stuart, I’ve never been here. You’ve mentioned so many items that sound good and I really have no way to choose. So, Stuart, I normally provide a couple of choices and ask the server to choose. But, tonight, I will tell you that I do not like seafood and then, let you select what I will have.”

And… Stuart did very well! If you get the chance, and you have the guts, try it out sometime… give the server Carte Blanche… bet you’ll love it.

And so this is Monday

It's the month of my birth and I've been reminded several times this weekend of my age. A friend (?!!) persisted on telling me that once you say you are "almost" 37, you are old. I was not/am not allowed to return the comment - even though she's 18 years my senior... which leads me to something I rely heavily on in life... the hard, steadfast rules of math and the laws of nature:

No matter how much older I get, I will ALWAYS be younger than mom, my sister and this friend. There's no uncertainty about it...and that makes me smile.

Let's get it started

A friend said I should write a blog, not sure if that was a joke or a dare, but I'm here so, let's get it started. American, Southern, Blond(ish) and, on the whole, very happy with my life - even with all the twists and turns; Sarcastic sometimes, cynical sometimes but always thinking about the world that surrounds me. That's how I'd describe me right now.

It's late and I've acquired a new affinity for sleep. So off I go.

Good night and take good care.