Filed under: Holidays!, Hooray!, oh you self indulgent hussy! | Tags: fashion and sewing, Oversharing, responsible adult
I see 2 styles of shoppers- hunters and gatherers.
Hunters go in knowing exactly what they want, find it and buy it whether it’s on sale or not, then leave. At the risk of being sexist, this is how most men shop. Except Terry. He has a bit of the hunter in him,as he will essentially know what he’s after and get that, but he also likes to see what’s on sale, and maybe get a couple of those as well.
Women tend to be gatherers, ambling around looking for what’s interesting and maybe getting one, but not without first going into TJMaxx to see if they have something similar for 1/4 the price,and also wandering into Bath and Body Works because they are likely having a sale and Moonlight Path is yummy and I’m almost out and Oh look! The Christmas scents are available now I wonder if they have a peppermint thing, I love peppermint and it doesn’t give me an allergic reaction the way the cinnamon stuff does…oh aren’t the candle sleeves pretty this year, I really like the snowflake ones. That reminds me, I need to see if Williams-Sonoma has snowflake cookie cutters that are different from the 127 snowflake I already have.
However, I am not a gatherer. I actually kind of despise shopping. The last time I gathered was when the car was in the shop and the shuttle dropped me at the mall…and suddenly there was 5 hours to kill. Honestly, it was kind of excruciating, but I made the best of it. The mall had a Bass Pro Shop,so there were guns to look at, and crossbows, and smokers. Also an AJ Moore, with the Martha Stewart line of glitters (yes. guns and glitter. I am a well rounded woman). Upon wandering into Dillard’s (a somewhat high end department store…not Nordstrom, but not JC Penney either) and perusing ladies underthings, I was nearly tackled by a young woman with a tape measure around her neck. She informed me that she was a representative of some (very expensive) “ladies foundation garment company” (bras) and she was of the opinion that I probably needed a proper fitting. She was more polite than that, but that was the essence of it. Having never had a proper fitting (even though at one point my husband worked for Vanity Fair and their designers) and also having several hours to kill, I thought “why not” and got a proper fitting. Imagine my surprise at being told “all wrong” with what I thought I was, and then she put a proper one on and I was like “day-um” and promptly bought a (very comfortable, and stunningly-for me- expensive) bra. I felt like I should,since she’d just spent the better part of an hour measuring and letting me try things on and showing how to adjust etc, plus her skills made The Girls look better than they had in years and years and years we’re talking along the lines of 20 of years.
That was the only time I’d gathered. I didn’t like it but it was better than sitting in the waiting room of a car dealership. Last time I did that I came home with a new car, so I think being at the mall was a better deal, expensive bra and all.
Today, I hunted. I wanted some black shoes, of a specific style, and a couple of peppermint things to make the house smell nice.
You see, my mother in law told the boys she thought our house smelled bad, and while I can normally blow stuff off like that (typically our house smells of whatever’s cooking- beef stew or fresh bread,etc), for some reason that really got under my skin, and since then I have felt very insecure about it, even though friends have said that the house smells fine.
So, a tour of the shoe store revealed no shoes like I wanted. That took 5 minutes. So I went into Belk, internally wincing because they are kind of expensive BUT, a SALE was going on and they had the exact shoes I was looking for.
These are not the shoes I bought.
The sales guy said “you were very low maintenance, I’m giving you an extra 10% off.” He had just dealt with a woman who had no idea what she wanted and also argued with him about her shoe size…she insisted it was 6 and he was pretty sure it was more like an 8, and she griped because none of the shoes were comfortable…etc. All that took maybe 10 minutes. Because they were ON SALE, I had enough left to go to Bath and Body Works for the peppermint candles, and that took 5 minutes so I was in and out of the mall in 20 minutes, feeling very smug at my hunting abilities.
Filed under: *eep!, Awesomeness, friends IRL, Hooray!, I feel so smart!, In The Southland | Tags: Being Southern, fashion and sewing
Ok this is going to be FUN!
We met with the designer yesterday. His name is CJ Bryant and he does all sorts of things,not just wedding dresses, but that’s what he won Best New Designer for at a show in Charleston. He is working on a web page so when that’s up I’ll post a link to it. What’s funny is that the stuff he wants us to make is COMPLETELY different from the stuff he had in the show.
Bless his heart. He’s a young fellow, just starting out, and I really think Peaches and I can be a big help for him. He has some great ideas but needed a little bit of guidance on materials and laces and construction technique. However, he’s a smart fellow, caught on quick, and I think he will do VERY well in the future.
His dress ideas are…well… beautiful and very unique…not the typical Satin-sequins-make-the-bride-look-like-a-tart/cupcake sort of thing. He wants to make them from cotton sateen, with fine vintage cotton laces and tulles. He is looking to appeal to a non-typical bride who wants an heirloom quality dress, which is where Peaches comes in with her sewing and embellishment expertise. I will do the construction of the main part of the dress, and she makes it unique and beautiful.
When we started with the discussions, I threw out there that I would NOT work with charmeuse or chiffon. Then when he pulled out his drawings, I noticed on the notes that he was considering charmeuse for one of them. When we began discussing the construction materials, he said “well, I was thinking charmeuse but I guess I’ll revise that.” I apologized, then that working with that stuff was something you had to do all the time to be good at it, and I did not, so would be uncomfortable with risking his investment in the fabric with my potential screw ups. We then agreed that it would be really pretty out of a cotton sateen. Colors were discussed, Peaches was pushing for ecru, he stuck to his guns (Proud of him!!) for white.
We also discussed production work, and since he is leaning hard toward couture pieces rather than production work, we are both happy. If he wanted production, he’s wind up with cheaper materials and assembly-line type clothing. Peaches didn’t want her stuff being made into that, and I was not thrilled about the idea of churning out dress after dress…BORING. BUT, he said no,he wants his stuff to be known for quality, and to be the kind of a thing a bride would want handed down. With the proper materials, a well made dress will last for generations. His styles are also the type of thing that could be handed down, as they are not ‘trendy’ at all.
So, we are going to get started on this quite soon!
Filed under: Awesomeness, Hooray!, People To See, product endorsement, spouse | Tags: Cheerleading
Filed under: bits and pieces, Hooray!, In The Southland, oh you self indulgent hussy!, spouse | Tags: Being Southern, Hotlanta, In the Southland, Spouse
I am, right now, on the 17th floor in a corner room of the Intercontinental Hotel in the Buckhead district of Atlanta. I can see the Atlanta skyline to the right, and Stone Mountain straight ahead. And trees. Lots of trees. Atlanta has so many trees and it’s lovely.
The view from our room
Yesterday traffic was horrendous thanks to several nasty crashes. so we went to the Dekalb Farmer’s Market to pick up some goodies for supper while the crashes cleared.
Cheeses (smoked gouda! Mah Favorite! And 4-pepper crusted chevre! Terry’s favorite! And brioche, and cherries, and Irish cheddar with red wine, and olives, and curried chick peas)
Also? A container of peach juice, to go with the bottle of champagne…bellini’s y’all…that’s what I was drinking…
We got up this morning (what a comfortable bed! And massive squashy pillows! And a duvet! And a thermostat we turned down to 65 so the duvet felt fabulous!), had breakfast, and sallied forth to Our Favorite Places.
Highland Hardware- where Terry got himself some woodworking necessities and I got him a coffee cup that said “He who dies with the most tools wins”. While Terry was hunting for things, I got into a conversation with one of the employees about the gold standard.
Then Gail K- where I got all the fabrics mentioned in that last post. The guy (a short Asian man of indeterminate age) was VERY helpful, especially when he learned I was intent on purchasing a lot of stuff.
Then lunch at The Oriental Pearl, where we ate ourselves into a near coma because they were serving dim sum and we do love us some dim sum. I am particularly fond of sesame balls, tho I cannot figure out why, since they are basically sweet and tasteless and sticky…but love them I do and I had 2 of them. Also? Dim sum is crazy cheap. We had huge piles of food and the whole thing came to $30. The only issue I have with dim sum is that I am lousy with chopsticks and too shy to ask for a fork, particularly since, in this restaurant with about 300 customers, we were the only Caucasians. So when I could, I kind of stabbed the food with the chopsticks and pretended I knew what I was doing. It worked. I am determined to practice using them so next time I don’t looks like an ignorant anglo.
After lunch we found our way back to the hotel, Terry walked half a block upwind and fetched me a tall coffee, and I watched him from my 17th floor perch, feet propped on the windowsill and feeling very well cared for.
When he got back, he napped and I fiddled on the computer.
I have no idea what we’re going to do now. It’s only 2:30 and we’re all done except for the groceries, and that will be done tomorrow morning, unless we go do it now.
Filed under: Awesomeness, family, food, Hooray!, oh you self indulgent hussy!, Rest and Relaxation, spouse | Tags: a weekend away, Hotlanta, Spouse
I can’t help it. I don’t like surprises and I am not one of those spur-of-the-moment types. I don’t like it when someone just drops in for a chat (unless it’s someone I know VERY well, whom I am confident won’t judge my floors or the pile of laundry) (Jerseechik…)
Because I am not the toothbrush-and-a-pair-of-panties traveler, plans are being made. O yes. Terry’s as non-spontaneous as I am and we both enjoy the process of planning. It’s not a Big Trip as time goes, but it is a Big Trip philosophically.
Thursday is our 26th anniversary,and also CJ’s 21st birthday. Yes, the child had the poor taste to be born on our 5th anniversary but I have forgiven him for that. Due to circumstances outside of ANYONE’S control, Terry has Work Things on Thursday, that will take him out of town until late that night. CJ is off that night, and also 2 nights following, so he is going to my parents’ place in Alabama, where 2 of his brothers (David and #4) are staying for the Summer. Which leaves me and Will here…maybe he and I can go to dinner or something. That decision will be made that day.
Anyway, Terry and I are going to Atlanta on Friday and staying until Sunday. We have a lovely room in a very nice hotel in Buckhead, and plans to visit Our Favorite Places, ones that simply aren’t anywhere else.
Terry wants to go to Highland Woodworking because they sell fancy tools and have great ideas and he needs a couple of bits for a thing so he can do something exotic and make a lovely and unique piece of furniture. This is an endeavor of which I highly approve. Also, I want to watch him in this Grown Man’s Candy Store because it’s fun to see him excited about something.
I want to go to Gail K because I have been saving up all the money I’ve made from sewing so I could spend it there on fine fabrics and interesting buttons. I have a list, and samples of the fabrics I already have so the purchase of matching stuff for blouses and linings can be made. And buttons. They have the best selection of non-typical buttons anywhere, ever. Buttons will be purchased, I guarantee you that.
And also The Dekalb Farmers Market, which is a food lover’s paradise O yes. I have a nice long list of spices and flavorings and grains and cheeses and maybe, just MAYBE, this time they’ll have Westphalian ham. They haven’t had it the last few times we’ve been there, which has been mildly disappointing. The stuff is the Beluga caviar of hams. The Napolean Brandy, the 30 yr Glenfiddich of hams. If they don’t have it, I’ll have to suffer with cappricola instead. O well.
See there, all plotted out, with a hearty breakfast at the hotel (they have what they modestly call “continental breakfast” which actually means there’s a guy standing there to make your custom omelet, and a pastry chef in the back making croissants, and probably a cow and a milkmaid churning butter and creme fraiche. We’ve eaten there before and it ain’t the breakfast you get at Motel 6. Not that there’s anything wrong with a cup of yogurt and a plastic wrapped muffin if you’re hungry and on a tight budget…anyway, now that I’ve offended someone…
We’re planning a trip. I love a trip. I love Atlanta. Even in late July. Which is why God put air conditioning in cars…Or someone did, anyway.
Filed under: *eep!, Dewicate feewings, Disease and infirmity, Doctors!, He'p meh He'p meh Oh Lawzy He'p meh, Hooray!, Sometimes she thinks too much, things that make you go hmmmmm | Tags: bipolar disorder, Coping mechanisms, responsible adult, solving personal problems
For the past several weeks, I have been depressed. I don’t show it much when that happens. Not really. My psychiatrist, The Good Dr. H, once said “Peggy, you’re not a public bleeder”, and that is entirely true.
When a person has bipolar disorder, for every down there is an up. Moods are like a sine wave, up and down, as are any person’s moods, but ours tend to be WAY DOWN past feeling a bit blue into dangerous territory, and WAY UP past feeling cheerful, into equally dangerous territory.
This makes me very suspicious whenever the moods change, or certain physical symptoms occur. Did you know that there is just as much physical mess as there is mental mess? Strange but true. It also makes it easy to discern when a mood change is just a normal old “well, I’m feeling cheerful today” or if it’s “Ok, there’s a storm on the horizon and you’d better give Terry all your credit cards cuz you’re fixin’ to get reckless.”
One of the things that makes it easy to tell Cheerful from Fixin’ to Manic is a pressure of ideas. I can’t talk coherently-words come too fast and I get them mixed up and my inherent perfectionism makes me have stop and start the entire sentence all over again…sometimes several times until I get it right. Writing is ok, though, and even preferable.
Another thing is a dismissal of…let’s see how to phrase this…Comfort Zone stuff. Maybe it’s part of the inherent creativity that is typical of a mild mania (also called hypomania). For instance, I make out biweekly menus. For the past several weeks that I have been depressed (actually an understandable depression, due to family stuff), I have had a hard time making creative and interesting menus. We ate a lot of same-old-same-old, because my mind wasn’t clicking very well. Cobwebs in the clockworks, so to speak. However, yesterday the fog started to lift and I felt BETTER…I took it as the depression lifting and that was all…and the menus reflect that. Tandoori chicken wraps, Jamaican grilled chicken with grilled plantains, black bean and quinoa veggie burgers, all stuff I’ve never made before but somehow this time positively GLOWED with possibilities.
All the information out there about bipolars give warning about money- hide the credit cards, cuz we get spendy. There are anecdotes about people withdrawing their entire retirement accounts and buying a racehorse…even though they don’t have a stable or the resources to keep the horse. I don’t do that. “Spendy” for me means a new pair of shoes or maybe some fabric. My ingrained (and frustrating) and inherent Scottish Thrift is strong enough (Thank you, Agnes McCalvinox*) to prevent such silliness.
Instead of spendy, I get BUSY. If I can keep this going without letting it get out of hand (it’s what I call “riding the wave’), I will have the yard fully landscaped by Sunday afternoon, the house will be spotless inside, and all the books will be nicely arranged by topic and in heightabetical order. You see, hypomania combined with mild CDO (that’s OCD but in alphabetical order) is a very happy combination when it comes to housekeeping.
It’s also a very good thing that 2 of the members of the household are elsewhere for a couple of weeks, as fewer people in the house means fewer people to get irritated. The remaining members of the household work a lot, and have the ability to make themselves scarce for several days, should this hypomania start to get out of hand and try to turn into mania. If that happens, I have medications. However, I will not use them until Terry says I need to, because…you know what? This feels GOOD, especially on the heels of a scary depression.
Physically,when I am depressed, it hurts. It’s an achy arthritic sort of feeling, only everywhere, not just in a particular joint. It’s hard to do things because you feel so HEAVY, like you’ve gained 100 pounds overnight and your muscles aren’t accustomed to carrying that sort of weight around. It’s hard to move, and your head hurts. Stuff that aches anyway (like my hands and shoulder) hurt even more, like they’re trying to get around the allover ache and make sure you know they are still there.
Physically, when I am manic, I get twitchy. I have to move or I’ll blow up like a helium balloon and float to the ceiling…ok not literally, but that’s what it feels like inside. I call it “being carbonated”, there’s bubbles all throughout and that extra 100 pounds from the depression is lifted and another 50 pounds to go with (don’t I wish it really happened!). Trying to sit still…ain’t happening. Something is always moving- a foot tapping, fingers typing on a keyboard while foot is tapping, and the entire time thoughts are flying around. While writing this post I’ve gotten a dress planned and figured out what to do with the area of the yard right behind the brick wall that runs along the backside of the patio. I also get itchy. It feels like this soft cotton nightgown is a wool sweater, and truly,being naked would be so much more comfortable, but again, Agnes McCalvinox and Presbyterian Upbringing will allow that no more than she would allow the purchase of a racehorse.
Oh, you know what’s REALLY weird? My hair and fingernails grow twice as fast when I’m hypomanic. Like trim them twice a week fast. I have to keep the nails short because of the itchy skin, too, or I’ll claw myself to shreds.
So, what I have to do today and this weekend, is keep that cool logical bit of my brain taken care of. That is the part that made me keep a 2 year mood journal before I ever saw The Good Dr. H, the journal that detailed mood swings, sleep patterns (which also go whack with bipolar disorder) and strange reactions to events. It is the part that was able to say “Houston, we have a problem” and get me to the doctor before I did Something Drastic. It was also the part that felt tremendous relief when he said “You have a mental illness that will last the rest of your life, but we have medication that will help.” I was so…SO relieved. Being told my issues were an organic disorder and not a character flaw was…oh boy…I can’t even describe how good that felt.
I woke up at 4am this morning, with my mind going about 80tpm (thoughts per minute). I’d been plodding along at a solid 2otph(thought per hour). At first, the energy and time at 4am was cheerfully spent figuring out a dress I’d like to make, then planning changes to the herb garden, then making lists of a bunch of other stuff…and I got up at 5:30. As I trotted down stairs (I never trot at 5:30 am) it occurred that…hum…this feels like the onset of mania. So now my decision has to be…how long to ride it, when to start the medication to slow it down.
Because…dammit, this feels GOOD. I don’t want it to stop!
*Agnes McCalvinox is the name of my alter ego. She is the Calvinist Scot (thus the name) in my brain that prevents all manner of self indulgence and excessive behavior. Sometimes she gets in the way of a good time “No, you are NOT going to buy that piece of fine worsted wool because you could send that money on something more practical.” and “No, you are not going to get some Massaman curry for lunch because you have perfectly acceptable leftovers in the refrigerator at home.” Sometimes she can be a real bitch, and sometimes she really keeps me out of trouble.
I get a haircut maybe twice a year, more likely once a year. It grows very slowly, and I like it to be long enough when I *do* get it cut that I have style options.
What generally happens, is that it gets long enough that I can pull it back in a band and a (sad, thin) ponytail, then I wake up one morning knowing that if I don’t get it cut THAT DAY I will cut it myself, and that never works out well.
Today was that day. At noon I reached critical mass, and called Sherry, begging an audience. “3:30″ she said. And so it was.
Terry gets very nervous when I announce the haircut is imminent. For some reason, he has it in his masculine mind that I am going to get my head shaved. I have never shaved my head. I have never even had it cut CLOSE to as short as his is. And yet, he starts to pace and say things like “I’m going to call Sherry and tell her how I want her to cut it” and “you know I don’t want you to have it shorter than mine”. As if I ever have.
What I find interesting is how my hair has changed over the years. It used to be platinum blonde and absolutely straight. When I started having children, it got darker, and Lady Clairol and I did our best to hide that. Then, about 7 years ago I became tired of the battle and quit coloring it, and discovered there was actually quite a bit of silver in there. Not grey,but a metallic silver…Cool! It also started curling, and now when I wear it short, it’s quite wavy/curly, and I love that! I can just sort of fluff it up when it’s wet, and leave it alone to dry in these crazy wavy curl things that look like…I don’t know….wavy curl things.
And now it is out of my face and off my neck and feels cool and wonderful and I don’t have to do ANYTHING to it!
Filed under: family, Holidays!, home and hearth, Hooray!, oh you self indulgent hussy!, Rest and Relaxation | Tags: birthday, Kentucky Derby, NASCAR, Talladega
My parents came for a visit over the weekend. Friday was the 19th anniversary of my 27th birthday, and Mom went over-happy at the Antique Rose Emporium and brought 5 (!!) very old varieties of roses to put in my garden…I knew she was going to bring one, maybe 2, but apparently choosing was difficult so she got 5. She said she has trouble making decisions these days.
So anyway, we watched the Kentucky Derby and also the Nationwide NASCAR race at Talladega…and I was…well, let’s say flipping the channels back and forth between the 2 caused cognitive dissonance that was only alleviated by holding a beer in my left and and a mint julep in my right one. No boob-flashing tho, much to Terry’s disappointment.
Watching the Derby was fun. everyone sings My Old Kentucky Home at the start of it all, and the camera kept going to his very elegantly dressed woman in an enormous hat. She had expensively blonde hair, smeared lipstick, and seemed to be enjoying herself enormously. I suspect her fun was chemically enhanced by whatever was in the frosty silver cup she was holding. What a great race tho! Wow! Youtube it…Everyone was all like “oh, Bodemeister’s gonna win, we all know that blahblah There’s Bodemeister all in the front like we all expect blah blah” and the boom, right out of the middle of the pack comes this horse (I’ll Have Another) no one expected to do much and he blows past Bodemeister like he’s sitting there picking his horsey teeth. And it all happened about as fast as it took you to read my description right there.
Today we’re watching The Sprint Cup race at Talladega…wow what a fast track. 203 mph roaring around. I want to do that, or at least get a taste of it. In 3 years I’ll be 50, and the desire for this 50th birthday is to take the Richard Petty Driving Experience, and to get to drive a stock car. I love to drive, and I love to drive fast (much to Terry’s discomfiture) A couple of years ago, when I got Carmina (a red VW beetle convertible, the Sport Model with the Bigger Engine waahoo!) it was necessary to See What She Could Do, and learned that someone, in their infinite wisdom, decided a governor was required to keep perimenopausal women from scaring their husbands (much) while blasting down backroads in South Georgia at unreasonable speeds. Apparently 137mph is Fast Enough to German Engineers. It is also exhilarating, when the top is down. The RPDE will allow you to go up to 160, I think. That’s probably fast enough.
So, after watching the race (and the funny commercials), I’ll figure out where to plant the roses.
Oh, and for my birthday? Terry’s done all the cooking and cleaning 
Delicious food, too.
Filed under: Awesomeness, Hooray!, I feel so smart!, oh you self indulgent hussy!, Rest and Relaxation, spouse
Friday, I packed. Saturday morning we (Terry and I) got up early, and were out the door and up the road by 10 after 7! Bliss!
We went here and stayed for 2 half days and 1 whole day, blissfully doing absolutely nothing more stressful than soaking in the hot tub or splitting a bit of wood for kindling. I cooked a little bit, which involved grilling a couple of pieces of meat and dumping some salad from a bag onto plates. Then we soaked in the hot tub again. Then watched a movie, poked at the fire in the fireplace, and soaked in the hot tub again.
It was cold there, and rainy, and the hot tub was surrounded by windows so if we’d remembered the bathing suits we could have opened the blinds and watched the rain, but I was all Presbyterian and Nervous about someone driving by (which actually happened, once…someone drove by, that is) and seeing us in the altogether soaking in that hot tub and being traumatized by the sight (of 2 middle aged Not So Slims naked in a hot tub)…where was I? Oh yeah. The blinds were kept tightly shut, all the way around the cabin so if we’d wanted to we probably could have spent the entire weekend COMPLETELY NUDE. But we didn’t, because someone had to go out and get firewood, and doing it in the buff would certainly guarantee that a Baptist funeral would drive by. Terry did go out once in his pajama pants, a t-shirt and unlaced hiking boots, looking a bit like a character from Li’l Abner…and that was the one time a car drove by. He went back out 2 hours later, and the same car drove by from the other way.
I had always wanted to rent a cabin in the mountains, and spend a few days, but never had. However, now we have and I highly recommend it. It was quiet. There was no decent cell phone reception. It was cold thus piling into the bed and snuggling close was necessary (and fun). I fantasized about selling our big barn of a house once all the kids leave home, and getting a place like that little cabin. 850 square feet, that’s all, with everything a person (or two) requires, AND a hot tub!
Terry liked it so much that he announced we would do it a couple of times a year. I liked it so much I thought that was a splendid idea. You know what’s crazy? Well, I thought it was crazy…the whole thing cost about as much as a decent Holiday Inn room. AND they supplied the wood and housekeeping! Crazy! To think that for the past 25 years I wanted to do this, and never did because I was certain it would be ridiculously expensive. Well, it wasn’t and it was MUCH cheaper than marriage counseling!
It’s all over but the final stuff and a date being set.
No. I am not getting a divorce!
CJ, my 20 year old, the one that gave us such Fun Times as dropping out of high school (to his credit, he *did* have a full time job, so it’s not like he was just rolling around in a meth lab or something), coming back to school, moving north to live with his uncle , then friends, for his senior year, scaring us by almost not graduating…etc etc.
He’s Enlisted In The Navy.
Let me repeat that in case you missed it the first time.
He Has Enlisted In The United States Navy.
All that’s missing at this point, are the medical records from when he broke his arm in the first grade (to verify there’s no lingering disability), and a date for boot camp.
*plotz*
His plans are to train as a diesel turbine mechanic, and work in the engine room of a great big ship, get really good at it, see the world (and send me stuff), and Get Some Discipline.
*thud* (that’s me falling over)
All I can think of right now…is that little kid who tried to bungee jump out of the maple tree in our front yard, and hung upside down, shrieking like a banshee, until his belt loop broke… the kid that rode the wagon down the steep and curved road in front of our house, jumped the curb and landed 5 feet up tangled in the crape myrtle…who lost control of his bike and crashed into a neighbor’s rose garden…who broke his arm, watched the Auburn cheerleaders 3 days later, and taught himself one-handed backflips with his arm in a cast. Now I see him coming home from work, tired and covered in grease, smelling like chemicals and sweat (ew) but satisfied from having done a hard day’s work.
Now he says he’s ready to be a man, to serve his country, and see the world.
