Rise Again

Fishin’

May 25th, 2009 | Uncategorized | No Comments »

So many parents don’t want to do things with their children.

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The drive to Buford is really very lovely.

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Let’s do an old fashioned Random History™ moment real quick.

Buford Dam @ Lake Lanier

Buford became a city in 1872.  They have a lovely new courthouse and square that caters to local businesses and families alike.  There’s a fish hatchery and a pond where families can go and fish together-and toke, if you’re like us, away from the Rat Race that is Atlanta.

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The G-Man has never been fishing and to be honest I was a tad bit uncomfortable taking him for the first time without his father, but, well, too fucking bad.  J’s kids have been itching to get out of the hotel-another story-and while I do what I can to get them outside and run out of energy, the fact is that three boys without enough outside time will run you over faster than a Mac Truck on the way to a Hangover Convention.

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So, off we go to Buford.  Fishing.  Tea.  A 2-year-old with nerves of steel.

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I just watched him get closer and closer to the water.  He loves water.  Like waterbug he is.

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Closer.

I really couldn’t put down that fucking pole fast enough.

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I mean, I saw it a hundred years before it happened.

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I usually don’t move in such slow motion.

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In fact, I have a habit of going too fast when the mood strikes me.

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In he goes, face first and of course I just jumped.  I had no idea how deep or how grody.

And of course, the fish….

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Fortunately, for me no one bit me!

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He flipped over, ONTO HIS FACE. Of course.  All I could think was that he’s crying and going to suck in all this water.

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All the water.

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But I grabbed him and he was okay.  Never a more complacent group of bystanders did I ever see.

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It took me a few minutes, but eventually I did cave to the shaking and the crying and the scared out of my fucking minding.

Karaoke Tales #1

May 13th, 2009 | Uncategorized | 2 Comments »

Summer 2008.  Myrtle Beach. One point in the Trifecta of Redneck Riveras.

I’m fairly certain my marriage is over.

It’s time to get drunk…and sing.

Boardwalk on the Beach is known for it’s bars and nightlife.  Apparently the largest Karaoke bar in the South-though, now that I think about it, I have no idea the name of the bar and I’m really not inclined to find out.

I have appropriate beach karaoke attire.  A short skort, a tank, Hilfiger flops.  A party attitude…

and…

my mom?

Well of course I have my mom.  My mom is totally my drinking pal.

I was pretty certain that karaoke was going to happen.  I’ve been singing “Before he cheats” for days in the car.  Appropriately, I’m the last Southern girl on the planet to discover Carrie Underwood.

Basic karaoke fodder.  Totally basic.

Jager bombs are very dangerous.

There’s a two hour wait to sing.

Some chick gets my song before I do.  She fails.  Doubly.

Chatting up a semi-bald metal wanna-be who sing Linkin Park and nods and smiles at my attempt at playful banter.

My flirt skills waver after the second pitcher of PBR and the third bomb.

Though, I do keep it together to sing.

Mom bails.  Won’t sing.  I hear her chatting up some dude about Lutheranism and Baptists and other metaphysical pursuits that kind of make me want to vom.

Oh, wait…

that’s probably the PBR.

My Gigi

May 3rd, 2009 | Memorial, Uncategorized | 1 Comment »

My grandmother has always been my rock.  My mother and I are unusually close and I appreciate that relationship in a way that’s difficult to explain.

My grandmother is different though.

There’s nothing I could do or say-she never yells at me, she’s quick to lend me $5 or $10 or $100 whether I need it or deserve it, which I rarely do deserve it.

Today after we went to Longhorn’s for my aunt’s birthday, filled with sweet margaritas and medium rare filets, my grandmother-or Gigi as she has affectionately become since the birth of my son-went and had pedicures and manicures at a nice salon in town.

We didn’t talk about anything life changing, in fact, she practically fell asleep in the deep tissue massage chair, but just the comfy air between us two, with the nail tech busy below, was nice.

We always did everything together, she taught me to read, walked me to the library twice a week during the summers when I was small.  She would push my hair back and tell me what a beautiful forehead her sweet angel had…

Our days are getting shorter.  I see the orange and red in the sky.  I get busy and she gets tired chasing my fair-haired baby boy.

When the sun sets, my face won’t be dry for years afterward.