Yes, but this time it was handgun shooting. For the first time.

A friend of mine was going with her dad. For her, it was more than just a lark. She had a scary experience where she felt like she might have a need to protect herself, and her dad agreed to buy her a gun and teach her to shoot. Never one to miss an opportunity to scare myself s@#%less, I invited myself to tag along.

I had less than 24 hours to acquaint myself with the reality of going. I don’t know many people, especially women, who go target shooting, so I knew I had to jump on it. However, guns scare the beep out of me. I don’t really like them, but I believe that I need to learn how to use them, and I like the idea of the sport of it. So I put myself in my car, hands shaking as I plugged the address into the GPS.

Once we arrived, it was in a strip mall. Okay, I didn’t expect that at all. We walked in, and I started eyeing the people. Think about it…I was about to be side-by-side with God knows who and a gun, and I sure as hell wouldn’t have a chance in a shootout. From the initial impression, though, most of the people just looked like normal people. No one looked like they had just escaped a mental institution, no one was acting drunk or drugged, no one was acting suspicious.

Except for me, apparently. The guy at the desk right away welcomed us and said, “this is going to be fine, don’t look so scared.” I thought I was pulling it off, but no. There were no other women in there, which is intimidating, and I thought I had my butch attitude going, but no. As my son would say, “fail.” I abandoned all pretenses and admitted my nervousness. I must say the guys working there (shout out to Autrey’s Armory http://www.autreysarmory.com/our-range-i-54.html) were super cool, welcoming, and encouraging. They even have a Ladies’ Night!

I had to put my headsets on to protect my ears and choose a paper target. The choices were green person outline, bad guy, and circles. Since we were there because of some idiot who liked to prank call women, I chose the green person outline. The bad guy one freaked me out, the circles were bland, so I chose the green one because it didn’t really look like a person but kind of. I walked into the shooting range with my friend’s dad and BANG…BANG…BANG. I jumped and almost did that Animal House/Jim Belushi stance as an instinct. Holy Loud-To-My-Inner-Depths. It took a good 10 minutes to stop jumping and for my hands to be steady enough to shoot. Luckily, my friend’s dad had to instruct me anyway. Nicest guy, and very knowledgeable and professional about it all.

More or less what I looked like.

The trigger was super hard to pull. He explained that it was a safety feature. It ain’t gonna go off by accident. No way. I had to use all possible index finger strength just to pull the trigger. And I did alright. I didn’t think about hating anyone, or Osama Bin Laden, or anything. I just focused on what instruction I had received, aimed, and pulled the trigger. Kind of like when I had a golf lesson, except with a more lethal phallic object. Okay, if you were at the golf lesson, that statement may be debatable.

More or less what I looked like.

By the way, never google “phallic.” It is quite disturbing.

I hit the target every time, twice in the chest, once in the head, and the rest in random spots. I was thrilled to have hit the target, with those shaking hands and jumpy nerves. But then it was weird, looking at the person-shaped target. Would I really have it in me to shoot someone, if it came down to it? And would he be wearing green?

I am preparing to go back to skeet shooting soon with the hubby and some friends. I think I like that better. It feels more sporting and less like killing someone. At least, now I know how to use a handgun if need be. My friend was glad to know how to use her gun, but the whole concept is pretty scary. As it should be.

Don’t know if my nerves can handle handgun shooting, but if anyone’s up for a Ladies’ Night, let me know. I’ll buy the drinks afterwards.

Take care of yourselves and each other,

Katie

More or less what I looked like.

by Lady Reads-A-Lot

I like big books and I cannot lie

You other readers can’t deny

That when a book jumps in your itty bitty hands

And a square thing in your face you get sprung

Wanna pull up tough

Cause I noticed that book was stuffed

Deep in the bag you’re wearing

I’m hooked and I can’t stop staring

Oh baby, I wanna read witcha

And take yo picture

My homegirls tried to warn me

But that book you got is better than porn-y

Ooh Leather Smoothskin

You say you wanna get in my lens?

Well use me, use me

‘Cause I ain’t your average groupie

It’s better than dancin’;

Even got some romancin’,

I sweat, I fret,

Got it goin’ like a turbo Vette.

I’m tired of magazines

Sayin’ tv is the thing

Take the average reader and ask her that

She thinks books are phat

So, fellas,

(Yeah!)

Fellas!

(Yeah!)

Does your girlfriend read a book?

(Hell yeah!)

Tell her to shake it, shake it, shake that favorite book

Baby got books

I like ‘em rectangular and big

And when I’m buyin’ like a pig

I just can’t help myself

I’m acting like an animal

Now here’s my scandal

I want to get you home

And uh, double-up, uh-uh.

I ain’t talkin’ bout Playboy

Silicone parts are made for toys (But the articles are pretty damn good.)

I want ‘em real thick and juicy

So find that juicy novel

Reads-a-Lot’s in deep

Beggin’ for another quick peek

So I’m lookin’ at movie videos

Book version plots playin’ like hoes

You can have them bimbos

Remember those nails on Flo Jo?

A word to the thick book mastas, I wanna get witcha

I might cuss or throw ya

But I gotta be straight when I say I wanna

read til the break of dawn

Baby got it goin on

A lot of you won’t like this song

Cause them punks like to skim it and quit it

But I’d rather stay all day

So ladies

(Yeah!)

Ladies!

(Yeah!)

If you wanna drive a Mercedes,

Then read a book, and read some more

All the smart boys got to shout.

Baby got books.

So your boyfriend hates to read

And only likes tv

But tv ain’t gonna make the heart grow fonder

His anaconda don’t get none unless he’s got books, hon

You can do sidebends or situps

But please don’t lose those books!

Some brothers want to play that hard role

And tell you that books aren’t gold

So they toss it and leave it

And I pull up quick to retrieve it

So Cosmo says you’re nerdy

It ain’t down or dirty

But your cover is slick and your pages are kickin’

I’m thinkin’ bout stickin’ (my head in a book.)

To the brainless dames in the magazines,

You ain’t it, Miss Thang

So ladies if the book is good

And you want to talk about it in the hood

Call 1-800-READS-A-LOT

And bring some wine if you could.

Baby got books.

Little bit mental but she got much books.

Little bit mental but she got much books.

Little bit mental but she got much books.

(Inspired by the one and only knighted rapper I know of; the one who, when interviewed on VH1′s I Love the 80′s, noted that he looks like “a big dancing turd” on the large white buttocks in the video. Why didn’t they make them black? In fact, they’re yellow. Anyway, cheers to you, Sir Mix-a-lot, you made my 80′s a lot more fun and I thank you for paying tribute to lovely, non-stick figure women.)

I start making my yearly playlist on Jan. 1 every year. I love doing it. I love seeing what we bought through the year. The ridiculous amount of money that I would rather forget about spending in iTunes every year results in our end of year playlist. Of the 30 some-odd singles we bought, only the best of the best can make it to the final playlist. And it’s really not just my playlist. It’s my family’s, and every family member has input. I make sure we are all reflected in the playlist from the year. So blah blah blah, let’s get to it.

Anderson’s Best of 2011:

1. On the Floor/Jennifer Lopez: We loved her on American Idol and how can you not shake your booty when you hear “Let me introduce you… to my party people…in the cluuuuuuuub…” It’s a fun one and won the lead-in spot.

2. Tightrope/Janelle Monae: This one is, for me, a different sound. That’s what attracted me to it, initially. I thought, this is like Outkast different. And lo and behold, Big Boi is featured on it! I love that they hail from ATL and it’s something new. Even had to get it for my ringtone.

3. (It) Feels So Good/Steven Tyler: Oh, Steven Tyler, you sexy, rhyming, soulful, kooky rascal, you. You old-enough-to-be-my-father, you. This song makes me play my air guitar and scream in glass-breaking pitch. We loved him, too, on Idol.

4. Born This Way/Lady Gaga: The kids love the Gag-ster. I love the message. So here it is.

5. Animal/Neon Trees: Honestly, I have no idea who this group is. Haven’t even Googled them. All I know is, it’s a great tune for driving on the highway.

6. Moves Like Jagger/Levine and Aguilera: When I first heard this song, I didn’t like it. Which I now know means it will be HUGE. It grew on me. The kids love it. Gave me reason to educate the 10 year old and 6 year old on all things Jagger and Stones.

7. Grenade/Bruno Mars: The kids and I love to sing this one, with all of that emotion and heart-wrenching despair…”why were they open?” I don’t know, though, I kind of regret putting it on here due to the overplay, much like Adele.

8. Stereo Hearts/Gym Class Heroes: Again, no clue who these people are. I’m so freakin’ old. Kids love it. I don’t mind driving along to it. Have you noticed my husband hasn’t been mentioned yet? He could care less about the first part of this list.

9. Mr. Know It All/Kelly Clarkson: The kids and I love her. She is our American Idol. I love that she is never in the tabloids. She can sing anything. She is lovely.

10. Save Me, San Francisco/Train: Okay, is there a Train backlash or something? Regardless, we like their songs. That lead singer looks older and I’m all for older folks having success (J. Lo, S. Ty, Train.)

11. Brighter Than the Sun/Colbie Caillat: This is the sweetest little song. My 6 year old belts it out like there’s no tomorrow. This is, hands down, her favorite. I like positive songs that brighten my mood, and this one is all that.

12. Come Back Song/Darius Rucker: And now we come to the country portion of the playlist. My husband loves this one. As we all do. He and I went to see DR in September and he is awesome. Such a fun show. I love this man’s voice, whether it be country or otherwise. He also happens to be my celebrity crush and from my homestate of SC. Ah, Darius, how I love to hear you on my radio.

13. Knee Deep/Zac Brown Band: Come on, this is another great party song by some good Georgia boys. Raise your beer and sing along. Our whole family loves them. Also went to see them with some great friends in the summer and had a blast. I love all kinds of music, but seems like I only go to see country shows. Guess I am a country Southern girl at heart.

14. Dirt Road Anthem/Jason Aldean: We all love this one, too. Jason is also from Georgia, my birth state and adopted homestate. I think he took a bit of a risk on this one, adding in the rap segment, but I love it. Again, something new and different. And I love it when several music styles are melded into one, since I love so many different styles of music.

15. Barton Hollow/Civil Wars: Well, this group just blew up this year, didn’t they?! I remember before I knew who they were, I saw them on Leno (who I never watch because of my unfailing, stalker-like loyalty to Conan O’Brien.) I asked my husband, “Who is that?” and could not tear myself away from their hauntingly beautiful harmonies. It was just the two of them and a guitar. I love this song and loudly sing Joy Williams’ part every time it’s on…”cain’t no preacher man save my…SOUL.”

16. All Your Life/The Band Perry: This one is for me. Again, I love to belt it out like I am Kimberly Perry and I am at the Ryman Auditorium…”all your li i i i fe…li i i ife…” And I love the writing. Of this song and the others. I love when she does that part “Lately I’ve been writing… desperate love songs… mostly sing them to the wall. You could be the centerpiece ooooof my obsessio-o-on, if you would notice me, I, oh whoa, yeah ye-ah yeah…” Love the drama and the heartache! Love that they write their stuff. They’re Alabama peeps. My ancestors are from Alabama, so I figure we’re probably related, right?

Last but not least 17. Rhythm of Love/Plain White T’s: Thought this was a good one to end on. Sweet, good theme, and we all like it. And that’s really what it’s all about- love. From the Beatles in the 60′s to the Plain White T’s in 2011, and now to you: Love is all we need.

All the best to you and yours in 2012,

Katie

So far my December has been made up of many, many lists of varying degrees of importance. There are lists of people to buy for, a list of people to send cards to, a birthday list for my oldest, grocery lists for holiday eats, quick lists for last-minute needs from Michael’s, and the usual to-do list that somehow needs to get done in the midst of holiday to-do’s.

This year, I’ve used technology like a junkie uses her heroin. If I misplace my Samsung Galaxy smart phone for even a nanosecond, I get the shakes. If I leave my phone at home while shopping, I start to trash the store like a Charlie Sheen hotel room. Ok, now I’m exaggerating, but suffice it to say I get pretty stressed out. My phone has my world in it. It has been so helpful to me in my time of need; I feel like it’s another appendage. My memo app is like a sister to me. At the least, a 1st girl cousin. It’s the personal assistant I’ve always wanted. It’s the wife I’ll never have; damn you, Heterosexuality!

My computer has been a helpful holiday tool, as well. I have ordered so many gifts online this year; it has been wonderful. I’m not really a big shopper. I like to get in and get it done.  I do not delight in finding that oh-so-difficult-to-find-toy; in fact, I despise it. My daughter, I discovered yesterday, wants one of those toys this year; last week, mind you, it was easy to find. It was relatively cheap. I just wasn’t ready yet…I didn’t have my list together. So this week, it’s nowhere. I mean, nowhere. It’s a voice activated diary, with invisible ink and at this point, hopefully in a jewel-encrusted case, because I had to go on eBay and pay TWICE the amount to “Buy It Now.” Newsflash: I do not have the attention span or patience for the auctions. Said toy also got mixed reviews online with the voice recognition looking questionable, but it was in her top 3. I’m realizing as I write this what an even huge-r idiot I am. But, it was free 2 day shipping. (NO IT WASN’T! YOU PAID TWICE THE PRICE FOR THE @#$% TOY, HUGE IDIOT!)

Despite this trauma, I am moving on and am just trying to finish the lists. My list for the kids is in Word, rather than a scrap piece of paper this year. I still have not gotten over the year that my son found the scrap paper and I had to do some scrambling to be sure he was surprised. He wasn’t even snooping; he stumbled upon it. While they shouldn’t be in my Word for any reason, I still was careful not to name it “Christmas List for the Kids 2011.” I tried to think of names for it that would repel any snoopage; I thought of naming it “Lunch at American Girl” for my 10-year-old son, but it wouldn’t work for the 6-year-old girl. There was “Church Clothes and Shoes”, but again, the girl would look. So I came up with “NPR,” a subject which creates a rare unity of disgust and annoyance in both kids. When it’s on the radio, their cries of “No, Mom” are in beautiful, Simon-and-Garfunkle harmony.

They even typed in their lists on my phone themselves. Again, no paper to keep up with. They put it in, so it’s not MY list of items bought. It’s their list for me. Perfect! Except there’s nothing handwritten to keep in their memory books. Oh yeah, they don’t have memory books. They do have memory boxes, which is filled with stuff that would look great in a memory book. I do plan on putting those together, as soon as I’m retired.

I am making my lists and checking them twice. Right there, on my phone and in my computer. I feel more organized this year, which probably means I’m about to go off the rails. Sometimes I feel like I live in the weeds; maybe I really like it there. I do need some pressure to get motivated, so maybe I am just a weeds kind of girl. If you’re gonna live in the weeds, you better have some technology and some lists.

How did we do it in yesteryear without all of this technology? We did it, but I’m glad we don’t have to anymore. I got a wireless printer early this year for Christmas, so no real need for a list for myself; but I do have one awesome gift for you to put on your list: David Sedaris’ holidays on ice. Here’s an excerpt:

“This afternoon I worked as an Exit Elf, telling people in a loud voice, ‘THIS WAY OUT OF SANTALAND.’ A woman was standing at one of the cash registers paying for her idea of a picture, while her son lay beneath her kicking and heaving, having a tantrum.

The woman said, ‘Riley, if you don’t start behaving yourself, Santa’s not going to bring you any of those toys you asked for.’

The child said, ‘He is too going to bring me toys, liar, he already told me.’

The woman grabbed my arm and said, ‘You there, Elf, tell Riley here that if he doesn’t start behaving immediately, then Santa’s going to change his mind and bring him coal for Christmas.’

I said that Santa no longer traffics in coal. Instead, if you’re bad he comes to your house and steals things. I told Riley that if he didn’t behave himself, Santa was going to take away his TV and all his electrical appliances and leave him in the dark. ‘All your appliances, including the refrigerator. Your food is going to spoil and smell bad. It’s going to be so cold and dark where you are. Man, Riley, are you ever going to suffer. You’re going to wish you never heard the name Santa.’

The woman got a worried look on her face and said, ‘All right, that’s enough.’

I said, ‘He’s going to take your car and your furniture and all the towels and blankets and leave you with nothing.’

The mother said, ‘No, that’s enough, really.’ –Holidays on Ice, David Sedaris

I heart David Sedaris. Put it on your list. Better yet, go buy it now.

http://www.amazon.com/Holidays-Ice-David-Sedaris/dp/0316035904

But please don’t mention to him that I put the excerpt on here. I think I could get in trouble, so if you know him, don’t mention it to him, ‘kay?

And, here is my holiday gift to you: this Elf Yourself video with myself, David Sedaris, Robert Siegel, and my Samsung phone:

Me and my elf buds

Happy Elfing Holidays to you and yours!

Katie

p.s. Sorry if the blog technology is not up to par…my absence from my blog might be showing in my lacking blog finesse.

The movie is superb; the feeling that you are reliving your days over and over, not so much. Groundhog Day-itis, I assert, is an unfortunate, soul-killing symptom of the Midlife Crisis.

The Midlife Crisis must happen to every one of us. I think we all have our own version; regrettably, some of us turn into clichés and buy a sports car/toupee/plastic surgery/mistress/boytoy. Some of us claim we didn’t have one, but I’m not buying it. A Midlife Crisis is as natural of a stage of personal development as walking and talking.

When you get to midlife, you realize that there are many things you haven’t had the time, money, motivation and/or balls to do yet. You get up, “I’ve got you babe” playing on the clock radio, go to work, take the kids to activities, cook dinner, put kids to bed, watch tv, go to bed. Then you do it again the next day, same order, with very few changes.

When I get that Groundhog Day feeling, I have to shake it off and shake it up. I like some loose structure to my day, with lots of opportunities to fill in the blanks as I go. Some might call it ADD, and some might be right. I like to call it soul preservation.

I found this quote from JFK today: “The Chinese use two brush strokes to write the word ‘crisis.’ One brush stroke stands for danger; the other for opportunity. In a crisis, be aware of the danger–but recognize the opportunity.” -www.goodreads.com

He may have been speaking of bigger events than my midlife crisis, but I see a connection nonetheless. I’m going to make my midlife crisis mine. I won’t deny it. I won’t ignore it. I’ll allow myself to be stupid (like the night of drinking and dancing and the scary old married man buying drinks for my group of mom friends), but I’m not going to do anything BIG stupid. I’m not too cool to have a midlife crisis. I won’t be a cliche…I’ll do my midlife crisis my way.

So what have I done? I’ve gone back to school with a bunch of 19 year olds. It’s gotten me out of my comfort zone and it hasn’t been easy, but it’s been great for me. School is a WONDERFUL place to spend a midlife crisis, and it’s way better than plastic surgery or a pool boy.

What haven’t you done that you’ve always wanted to do? If you can’t do it now, then start researching it. When the time is right, you’ll be ready.

It doesn’t have to just be a scary, dangerous time. It can also be an opportunity to better yourself.

Take care of yourselves and each other,

Katie

Granted, if you do it the way I did it and graze your way around to as many trucks as you can, you will spend more than $5. But I don’t get into Atlanta as often as I’d like, and I had to make the most of the opportunity!

Here’s what I recommend:

First, try as many options as your belly can hold. Start at Yumbii, a mash-up of Korean, Mexican, and Southern food, and go for the $3 fish taco. Crispy fried fish, with a dab of a creamy tartar sauce and a spicy red sauce…really good. The employees deliver a nice side dish of customer service along with the delicious food. Then, meander over to Sweet Auburn BBQ; try the pork taco with Asian slaw and wash it down with some Asian mint tea…a total of $5. Gotta love it.

Next, for less than $10, share a dessert trio: a gourmet popsicle from King of Pops to eat right away (I had Blueberry Ginger Lemonade–the kids and I fought over it!); some gelato from Honeysuckle Gelato to share next (try The Kang…an ode to Elvis’ love of chocolate and peanut butter); and to take home, a cupcake from Yum Yum Cupcake (I got both a red velvet and a key lime. They lasted, at most, a couple of hours.)

Sit down on the curb or under a shady tree with your cheap eats. The event takes place in a parking lot, but don’t be scared. It makes for a fun, interactive experience in which to talk with other customers about the food. The kids can run around and play. Plus, you save on tip with no wait staff!

If you’ve already been, let me know what your favorites are! If you haven’t, check out www.atlantastreetfood.com for more information. You can also follow @atlstreetfood on Twitter to find out where they are each day for lunch and dinner. I can’t wait to go back and try the others.

Hope you have a great weekend. It’s supposed to be beautiful weather here; hope it is wherever you are.

Take care of yourselves and each other,

Katie

            Barbara fluttered around, this way and that; swooping down on piles to clean off of tables, and diving into boxes of china and crystal to set up. She flew around from room to room, checking off her list and trying to think of everything that needed to get done for the party tonight. She interrupted her own out-of-tune rendition of “It’s My Party” to mumble to herself: what am I forgetting? Honestly, if I didn’t think of everything, then who would? Not Jim, that’s for sure. He wouldn’t know where to begin to throw a party. Even though she was having the party catered, and a maid crew to clean before and after, she still had a lot to do if she was going to make her hair and nail appointment on time. She had planned to arrive her usual 15 minutes early.

And, the girls were coming in this afternoon. Dear Lord, she prayed, please let them all get along. Just this once! Sometimes she wondered how her three girls all came from the same household: Maggie, the oldest and only wife and mother of the three; Lori, the middle child, the career woman; and Ginny, the baby, the flower child. Lord knows I did all I could and more; I did too much, too well, she assured herself.

Barbara picked up a stack of photos she had been organizing. There was one of the girls on Halloween: Maggie as Dorothy, Lori as Glenda the Good Witch, and Ginny as Toto. Ginny had begged to be the Wicked Witch but their church did not allow scary witches at Halloween. Barbara remembered how darling she was as Toto; Ginny had been so petite during childhood. Oh, how things had changed, Barbara mused. The girls had grown up so close, with just 2 years in between each, but as adults, they had drifted apart. Their lives were so different; Barbara hoped they would find their way back to each other one day. Today, she just hoped they could get along. It was, after all, their father’s sixtieth birthday.

On top of everything she had to do, she was totally preoccupied with the letter. She had it with her in her purse and kept pulling it out and looking at it. She reminded herself that God does not give us more than we can handle, and with Him at her side, she could handle anything. She was a “steel magnolia,” just like M’Lynn, her favorite character in the movie. She wondered how M’Lynn would handle the letter: probably go down to the salon and talk to Truvy, Dolly Parton’s character. Maybe cry dramatically a little bit before pulling herself together, with hugs from Weezer and Claree. As Barbara slowed to a stop at a red light, she took out the letter to read again for the umpteenth time:

Dear Mrs. Lowell,

My name is Casey Lumpkin and I am contacting you about the time you spent in Mobile, Alabama. I was there, too. I’m a social worker in Atlanta now. I don’t want to say too much in a letter, but I would love to meet with you and talk with your further. I feel like there are so many unanswered questions, and am hoping you can help me. Please call me at xxx-xxx-xxxx if you are interested.

            Sincerely, Casey Lumpkin 

What am I going to do? she asked herself. The Lord knows what His plan is, but she could not believe this letter arrived the same week as her husband’s 60^th birthday party. She wondered what he looked like now. She couldn’t believe he was in Atlanta! Only an hour away.

“Hey lady, it ain’t gettin’ any greener!” the driver beside her yelled into her cracked window. She stuffed the letter into her purse and drove on to the salon. Her body may have been in present day Georgia; but her thoughts were in 1970 Mobile, where she was handed off to the nuns at 17, pregnant, and scared to death.

“Hey Mom! I brought some wine! Hello….?” Maggie hollered, walking into the kitchen.

“Maggie! How are you? Where is everybody else?” Lori hugged her sister.

“Lori, you made it. You look so thin and so tan! Love it. The kids are coming later with a sitter, and John is still at work. But he’ll be here. He said he’d be here,” Maggie frowned, looking at her watch.

Lori eyed her sister. “How are the kiddos?”

“They’re great. Really, couldn’t be better. The girls were the stars of their dance recital. And Tripp starts kindergarten next month and is already reading; he made the All Star baseball team and had a home run last game ,” Maggie said.

“Wow, that’s exciting. I guess you’re pretty busy; I haven’t heard much from you lately,” Lori grabbed a handful of nuts.

“Well, Lori, some of us stay very busy tending to our families and taking care of our husbands, you know. You might take some notes,” Maggie glared at Lori.

“Where’s the party?” Ginny asked as she walked in.

“Ginny, hey!” Lori gave Ginny a hug.

“Hey Mags, long time no see,” Ginny smiled at Maggie as she walked in the other direction.

“Hey Ginny, long time for sure. At least 25 lbs ago. You’re obviously enjoying your cooking these days,” Maggie scrunched her nose as she walked out of the room.

“She never changes, does she? Jesus Christ, what a bitch,” Ginny rolled her eyes.

“Well, if you were married to the biggest douchebag in town, you’d be a bitch, too,” Lori said.

Ginny smiled. “True. I also think she just needs a sandwich. Poor girl, you can almost see through her. So how are you? How’s island life?”

“It’s different. Slower pace. Flip flops instead of Power Heels. Started a garden…you’d be proud.”

“Nice! Next thing I know, you’ll be cookin’.”

“I’ve learned a few basics. How’s the restaurant biz?

“Crazy. Scary. Awesome. So, how long til you’re out of hiding?”

“I don’t know. I’m kinda starting to like it there.”

“Seriously? You? Please, you’re not even good at vacations, dude. Get back out there and kick some lawyer ass.”

“Ginny, you don’t understand what I’ve been through. It was rough. It was hell.”

“Of your own making. You made your hell, now you have to fry in it. So where’s Mom, anyway?”

Lori stared a hole through her sister. “Why don’t you go fuck yourself? Probably the only action you can get.” Lori stormed towards the liquor cabinet.

“Enjoy your Jack and Coke. The true love of your life,” Ginny said as she headed up the stairs.

Barbara intently put on her lipstick. She poofed her hair in the back and sprayed one more time; hurricane winds couldn’t penetrate this hairstyle. She dabbed her wrists and neck with Chanel No. 5. How had he found me? Could I possibly meet him in secret? She had always wondered what had happened to him. Now she had a chance to find out, but she couldn’t risk anyone else discovering him.

“Hey Mom, whatcha thinkin’ about? You look pretty,” Ginny air-kissed her mother.

“Darling, I’m so glad you could make it. You look, well, very nice. How is everything downstairs?”

“Seems fine. Servers are getting ready, bartender already mixing drinks.”

“What? Already? Who’s here?”

“Your daughters.”

“Oh. Lori, of course. She better keep herself together. This is her father’s night. She has had more than her share of attention, of the negative variety, and she needs to be meek and mild tonight.”

“Yeah, well, I hate to break it to you but meek and mild has never been Lori’s style,” Ginny said and shook her head.

“How I have a child so bold and brassy is beyond me.”

“Mom, what can I help you with?”

“Can you just look out for your sisters? Maggie has a bee in her bonnet tonight, too, for some reason,” Barbara said and straightened her skirt.

“Yeah, I noticed.”

“Guess we better head on down. Damn it, I forgot to check the centerpieces! Forgive my language, dear Father in heaven. What if they’re not done yet? Dear Lord, please let the centerpieces be beautiful. Ginny, bow your head! Dear Lord, please also let the hors d’oeuvres be ready. And please let Lori not be drunk yet. Amen.” She flew out of the room, yelling, “Ginny, I need to give the lady her check for the cake. Grab my purse, there’s an envelope with a check in it. Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound…” Barbara was singing/praying as she blustered down the stairs.

Ginny looked around her mother’s bedroom. This bedroom looks like the floral section of Michael’s, she thought. How does dad stand it? She saw his glasses on his dresser, but otherwise, there was no sign of him in this room whatsoever. She looked on her mother’s dresser and her vanity; no purse to be found. The room smelled like perfume and Listerine. Out the window, her mother was talking animatedly to the valet, giving him her I’m-better-than-you smile. Over by the window, on the floor, was her mother’s purse. She opened it and found an envelope right away. She pulled out what appeared to be a letter, instead of a check. She read over the short letter, from somebody named Casey Lumpkin. When was Mom in Mobile? He wants to meet with her…sounds like a love letter! What the hell?! Who is this guy? Holy shitballs, Mom had an affair! Ginny put the letter in her pocket and walked towards the stairs. She had to go find her sisters.

I love a blog that begins with a Grease 2 reference! Just so you know, if you are a G2 hater, I don’t want to hear it, and will just post the next blog with the entire soundtrack! Oh how I wanted to be Michelle Pfeiffer and have a Cool Rider for my boyfriend.

Greetings and happy end of summer vacation! So it’s back to school, again! Where I live, school has started and what you’re hearing from the general direction of the Atlanta metro area are moms’ and dads’ exuberant cheers! It’s so damn hot here, the kids might as well be in school. The pool feels as warm as… well, I won’t go there because, let’s face it, that’s pretty much what it probably is. We’re all sick of the sweating, the too-often-3-showers-a-day routine, and having to exercise before 9 am or after 8 pm, which for me, means not exercising. We are Over. It.

So I welcome the open doors of the schoolhouse with a happy heart and smiling face. I am grateful that the angel teachers of my 2 children will educate and entertain them for the next 9 months.

Summer vacation wasn’t bad or anything. We actually had a fun summer, despite not scheduling a bunch of camps. The kids both were anti-camp; they just wanted “to play outside with their friends.” So, that’s what we did a lot of the time and it worked out much better than I thought it would. For me, that is. I guess they learned how to be bored, and so did I. And in the end, we didn’t get bored all that much.

We went on some trips to keep from going stir crazy. We visited with family and friends, we went to the beach, and we got to go to Denver for a few days. We went to Six Flags and Stone Mountain. We swam and played some tennis.

And we read. Since the kids had refused all things camp, I implemented afternoon reading sessions in hopes that our brains would not completely shrivel up. The kids picked books from the county library and the Carnegie library. I came up with my own summer reading list:

1. Crooked Letter, Crooked Letter by Tom Franklin

2. Classic American Short Stories edited by William Roberts

3. No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy

4. Roots by Alex Haley

5. Does the Noise in my Head Bother You? by Steven Tyler

6. Stories I Only Tell My Friends by Rob Lowe

Yes, I like literature and celebrity tell-all’s. I will often buy a New Yorker and a People magazine at the same time. I must admit, though, when I had problems with my Nook Color (I forgot to register my new debit card), it was a bit embarrassing that the problems were with the Steven Tyler and Rob Lowe books and NOT something more literary, like the Alex Haley. The B&N rep reassured me when she told me, “oh yeah, you’ve got to get this Rob Lowe book, it’s really good!” I told her I was an English major and embarrassed; you would think I was admitting to reading porn. I guess you could argue that they are the same thing….but that’s another blog.

I would recommend them all. I’m still working on Roots. It’s gotten rough and I can’t read it at night so it’s taking me a bit longer to get through. It is an incredible book, though.

We cooked some, but not a lot, and nothing very exciting. My son is becoming a young chef; he loves to cook and as he says, “make concoctions.” He makes his own eggs now, and made a solid pan of stuffed shells. My daughter enjoys it to a degree but has a shorter attention span. She did start up a make-believe restaurant this summer, complete with apron, real dishes, straws, and food made out of paper. Together, we made lots of desserts, popsicles, smoothies, and homemade soda.

And there was the inevitable too-much-tv and video games, the whines when the friends were on vacation, and one “Maybe I should’ve done some camps.” There was the reminder that we are a one-income family, in weird economic times, and we couldn’t do everything the kids wanted to do, when they wanted to do it. I even went through my own school withdrawal, surprising after I thought it was going to do me in. But I’ve worked enough summers in the past to know that I was lucky to be off this summer with my kids, who get bigger and more independent each day.

I reconnected with friends, family, my husband, and my children. I read lots of books. I saw the Rocky Mountains. I slacked off on my blog. I know more than anyone needs to know about Steven Tyler and Rob Lowe. I wrote a grant. I watched a lot of Bravo and Food Network.

That’s what I did on my summer vacation. How about you? I would love to hear from you all.

Take care of yourselves and each other,

Katie

Zoe

     The sun is starting to set through the trees on the other side of the screen.  The bees somehow figure out a way to get in, even with the screens.  The ceiling fan’s rhythmic breeze keeps the spring sweat away.  The iron table and chairs will provide dog-teeth-proof seating for five for fish tacos later tonight.  The hand-me-down bench will hold the platters and serving dishes for them; a night off from holding the usual random tools, shoes, hats, gardening paraphernalia, and dog leash.

This porch needs a serious cleaning from winter harshness.  The once-white trim is now speckled with red clay and black dirt; the chipped black paint on the floor is spotted with dust and white dog hair.  If you squint your eyes, though, you don’t see it and can still eat fish tacos here.

Through the screen, she can see green everywhere.  Birds are singing the same tune, over and over, like pop radio.  Lawn mowers are chugging and backfiring.  Somewhere, someone is burning a pile of something, which irritates the living hell out of her.  Even so, the beginning of spring is here, and she is grateful for it.  Early springs, mild winters, pretty countryside, good barbecue, and this screened porch…it could be a lot worse, for God’s sake.

She takes in the view and sighs.  There are starving people in Africa.  There was a mother on the news today whose child had been shot. There are hurricanes and tsunamis across the world. I really am so very blessed, she thinks. She sighs again.

The phone rings; the caller ID says it’s John. She lets the voice mail answer. She listens to his recorded voice that says he’ll be going to dinner with his golf buddies and not to wait up. That’s the third night this week. She kicks the boy’s tennis ball, a bit too hard for the small porch.  No harm done; the screen holds tight.  He had repaired it last summer and is always very thorough with his home improvements.

She picks up a seashell that had ended up in the corner of the porch. It was from last summer’s beach trip. They had found so many shells scattered on the beach, mostly empty and broken. This one had been white but was pockmarked by the sea floor, or maybe from their porch floor. Hard to tell. She remembered the one that Tripp had found with the hermit crab still in it. He was so excited and not the least bit scared.

She slowly stands up to go make the Sunday night phone call to Mom. She had put in a long run, 8 miles, early this morning, and would be somewhat relaxed for the call. She had gotten into running last year and was training for her fifth half-marathon this year. Her friends kept telling her that five is too many for one year; they were wimps. She didn’t have an ounce of fat on her. But she realized that this one was looking pretty doubtful now.

“Hey, Mom. How’re things?”

“Well, hey yourself, Maggie. How are you, honey?”

“Oh, we’re doing great. Just waitin’ for John to get home from golf and then we’re having some fish tacos…I’ve got a great recipe from Sandra Lee, you know, on Food Network.  The kids are running around outside, so glad for the pretty weather. Are y’all outside enjoying it, too?”

“Oh we are, we’re just getting our drinks ready for happy hour on the porch. God wants us to rest on Sunday, so that’s what we’re gonna do. How was your week? How are the grandbabies?”

“We had a great week. No complaints. Tripp had baseball, and Gracie is loving ballet. Me, I’m just running and working out, carpooling, PTA meetings, Bible studies, you know, the usual. Got my hair done, so that was fun.”

“Oh good, you need to keep yourself up for that sweet husband of yours. You keep up that running; you’re looking great. That John is so good for this family, Maggie. A hard worker, a good provider, and a wonderful father. We love him so much, and you too, sweetie. You two provided us with our 3 precious grandbabies. Oh, Mary Margaret, we are blessed!”

Maggie’s stomach lurched. “Oh yeah, thanks, Mom, look, the kids are calling me, great to talk to you.”

“Of course, bye, now.”

Maggie ran to the toilet and threw up. She sat there, heaving. She cried a little, but stopped when she remembered how ugly she was when she cried. She had already thrown up twice earlier. She picked up her toothbrush, and threw it into the mirror. It bounced back and hit her in the forehead. Now she had a red mark. She got her concealer from the makeup drawer and carefully applied it over the stinging. She had suspected for several days what her nausea meant, in addition to her sore breasts. John and her mother would be thrilled; maybe he would stay home more often now.

She brushed her teeth, rinsed her mouth and put the toothbrush back in the cup. She eyed John’s toothbrush…she bought it for him a few weeks ago. The thought occurred to her that he had probably never bought his own toothbrush in his entire life. Probably didn’t even know where they would be in the store. She picked it up and carried it with her to the toilet. She held it in her shaking hand and stared at it while she urinated in the toilet. It was a blue and white Oral B, medium bristles. She leaned down and scrubbed the floor by the toilet with it, then dunked it in the pale yellow toilet water. After flushing, she rinsed it with fresh toilet water. Then she put it back in its regular spot in his cup.

She averted her eyes from looking in the mirror. She took out a mini bottle of Wild Turkey she kept hidden in the back of a bathroom drawer. After gulping it down without a wince , Maggie decided that would have to count for her happy hour.