My Papa loved it when I wore hats. And since he felt that I didn't wear them often enough, he began buying them for me, usually at Christmas. This was often a source of frustration for my Nana, who was doggedly determined to spend EXACTLY the same amount of money on me and my sister and who did NOT appreciate it when Charles would appear at the house the afternoon of Christmas Eve, just hours before my family arrived for our traditional dinner and gift exchange, and triumphantly produce a freshly purchased beret.
It sounded strange when he referred to me as simply Katie. Most often I was addressed as either "Sugar," or "Katie Dee." It should be noted that my full name is Kathryn Jane. When my mother announced this name to her in-laws before I was born, Papa casually told her that HE was going to call me Katie Dee. Mom's pointed remark that that was NOT my name was met with a simple shrug, and Katie Dee I remained. To his credit, when I persisted in calling him Papa (instead of the Papaw he had insisted upon to my parents), he accepted it without comment.
I had a knack for getting Papa to do things when the others couldn't. Even after I moved to Oxford for college it was common to receive phone calls from family members saying things like "could you call your Papa and see if you can get him to..." The theory was that my success was because I was so much like him, that we were more or less two of a kind. Both tall, with the same hawkish ridge on our noses. Both with very loud and jarring barks that were typically much worse than our bites. Both with a penchant for nice clothing and jewelry and such. We were both often accused of "talking down" to people.
He pretended to be infuriated when I told him I was naming my new puppy Charles Glenn Tompkins the Third. "That's awful, sugar, naming a damned DOG after me, is that all you think about me?" He knew better. Our family treated dogs with a reverence that bordered on impropriety. He kept up the act, cursing grumpily as Charlie dutifully made the rounds on his patio, marking each and every plant....until I went inside to see Nana, when he'd pull an old folding chair out into the yard and watch his antics with a grin. He would pretend that having Charlie in the back yard wasn't an impediment to cutting the grass, and would then stoically ignore the barking at his feet that somehow managed to rise above the sound of the motor. He would also ignore my Nana and I as we laughed hysterically at the back door.
There are thousands of memories where these came from. Every day for the past two years I've lived with all of them swirling around me, simultaneously comforting me and adding a little bit of extra weight to my shoulders. I don't expect this to change anytime soon, but that is slowly becoming more OK than not. I suppose the important thing is to have them to begin with.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Monday, November 8, 2010
if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all.
My last post was about staying positive. I also mentioned that my dog was having some serious health issues. Unfortunately, Charlie passed away in early October.
To be perfectly frank, I'm still pretty heartbroken, no matter how hard I try to ignore it...and because of that, I'm not quite ready to write about it yet, or really write about anything for that matter. Right now it would just sound sad and whiny and involve a lot of me feeling sorry for myself.
So I guess this is just my excuse for being so absent as of late. Hopefully I'll be back soon...
To be perfectly frank, I'm still pretty heartbroken, no matter how hard I try to ignore it...and because of that, I'm not quite ready to write about it yet, or really write about anything for that matter. Right now it would just sound sad and whiny and involve a lot of me feeling sorry for myself.
So I guess this is just my excuse for being so absent as of late. Hopefully I'll be back soon...
Sunday, September 19, 2010
staying positive.
It's so easy to be negative. So, so easy. That doesn't make much sense to me...it seems like it would be so much harder to be negative than to be positive, doesn't it? You always hear that cheesy saying about it requiring more muscles to frown than to smile. Yet somehow for me, especially for the last couple of years, the easy option has been stress, worry, fear, sadness, etc.
I guess this is what happens in your late 20s and early 30s...reality becomes harder to dodge. The grandfather/father figure/family patriarch dies suddenly and unexpectedly. The dream job turns out to be a nightmare. Getting ahead financially seems to be harder than advanced calculus. The relationship you thought would fix everything evolves into something you have to fix and then reveals itself as something that just isn't supposed to be and is holding you both back. Your dog/best friend develops serious health issues. It starts to feel like the one or two hard issues per year have tripled in size, and begin to continually regenerate in hardier, nastier forms as soon as you've solved them.
Those things are so heavy, and confusing, and dirty and complicated. In contrast, the good stuff, the tons and tons and tons of good stuff just seems so light and airy and easy and bright. And yet I spend so much time ignoring it, overlooking it, putting it off till later. Sometimes I get so bogged down in the dark mess that I can't even take the time to post a list of five simple good things.
I guess all of this serves as an overly wordy explanation for why I do such a bad job blogging.
So, moving on...good things...
I'm grateful for coffee and conversation with my mother this morning.
Ole Miss lost yesterday. They'll probably lose many more games this season. But here's the thing I love, love, LOVE about Ole Miss....yeah, we may not win every game and maybe we've never lost a party, but most importantly, we love life enough that a lost game isn't going to prevent us from fishing an icy Coke out of the cooler, pouring a glass of wine, fixing a tasty plate of food, clasping the shoulder of a family member or friend we love and commenting that it's going to be a long season before asking what's in this pasta salad and then telling an old funny story from college, childhood, the previous night.
That moment after getting in the bed where you find juuuust the perfect spot and position and experience a moment where your whole mind and body can process nothing but "aaaahhhhh...."
The side eye Charlie shoots me when I politely ask him to stop barking at the little dog outside, to stop pulling the stuffing out of one of his toys, to stop perusing the kitchen counter he's up on his hind legs investigating. It's genius...just the right mix of sarcasm and affection and annoyance.
Ice cream for lunch. I mean...why not.
I guess this is what happens in your late 20s and early 30s...reality becomes harder to dodge. The grandfather/father figure/family patriarch dies suddenly and unexpectedly. The dream job turns out to be a nightmare. Getting ahead financially seems to be harder than advanced calculus. The relationship you thought would fix everything evolves into something you have to fix and then reveals itself as something that just isn't supposed to be and is holding you both back. Your dog/best friend develops serious health issues. It starts to feel like the one or two hard issues per year have tripled in size, and begin to continually regenerate in hardier, nastier forms as soon as you've solved them.
Those things are so heavy, and confusing, and dirty and complicated. In contrast, the good stuff, the tons and tons and tons of good stuff just seems so light and airy and easy and bright. And yet I spend so much time ignoring it, overlooking it, putting it off till later. Sometimes I get so bogged down in the dark mess that I can't even take the time to post a list of five simple good things.
I guess all of this serves as an overly wordy explanation for why I do such a bad job blogging.
So, moving on...good things...
I'm grateful for coffee and conversation with my mother this morning.
Ole Miss lost yesterday. They'll probably lose many more games this season. But here's the thing I love, love, LOVE about Ole Miss....yeah, we may not win every game and maybe we've never lost a party, but most importantly, we love life enough that a lost game isn't going to prevent us from fishing an icy Coke out of the cooler, pouring a glass of wine, fixing a tasty plate of food, clasping the shoulder of a family member or friend we love and commenting that it's going to be a long season before asking what's in this pasta salad and then telling an old funny story from college, childhood, the previous night.
That moment after getting in the bed where you find juuuust the perfect spot and position and experience a moment where your whole mind and body can process nothing but "aaaahhhhh...."
The side eye Charlie shoots me when I politely ask him to stop barking at the little dog outside, to stop pulling the stuffing out of one of his toys, to stop perusing the kitchen counter he's up on his hind legs investigating. It's genius...just the right mix of sarcasm and affection and annoyance.
Ice cream for lunch. I mean...why not.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
weekend's end.
Grateful today for:
Quality time with my parents. I may be 30 years old, but I appreciate the folks coming into town for a visit just as much as I did back in college. After a morning nursing my pup yesterday (slight complications post surgery, meh) it was such a welcome break to have an afternoon/evening perusing antique stores, buying cool snacks, picking out fabrics, and eating fresh tacos at Tienda Y Taqueria.
Completed home projects. Well, at least PARTIALLY completed home projects. I'm terrible at making decisions, and even when I've MADE the decision I often still feel like I need a nod of approval from my creative genius mother. Then I usually need her to assist me executing the vision. OK, to be fair...often I wind up assisting HER, but oh well. The important thing is that the cheap lamp base with the great shape but ugly paint job that I've begrudgingly toted from house to house is now a solid glossy turquoise and will soon have a nice new fabric covered drum shade.
French fries. And...this may surprise many Oxford townies, but...Old Venice. I had lunch there with my parents today (and dinner with some friends in town who wanted to eat there last month), and both times my meal and overall experience were....honestly, kind of flawless. Today was especially good. My mom and I shared the Mad Italian panini (thinly shaved ham, salami, pepperoni, provolone, pepperoncini peppers, and marinara) and the Tuscan Roasted Vegetable Panini (not positive on the details, but I know it involved roasted portobello mushrooms, squash, zucchuni, red peppers, pesto, and maybe bleu cheese crumbles). Both were fantastic, and the best part...we thought we substituted fries on the side for salads, but discovered when our plates arrived that the salads were an AND and not an OR. Good mistake (though perhaps not from a health perspective), since these shoestring fries were amazing. Perfectly crisp on the outside, soft on the inside, with juuust the right amount of seasoning. Mmmm. Fries.
My Boys. It's a little goofy (maybe a lot goofy) but it's nice and it's fluffy and it makes me laugh. Nice way to ease into a work week.
A pup who (for the moment at least) is peacefully snoozing and not doing any number of things which tend to result in stitches breaking and blood on Mom's carpet. Sweet guy...
Quality time with my parents. I may be 30 years old, but I appreciate the folks coming into town for a visit just as much as I did back in college. After a morning nursing my pup yesterday (slight complications post surgery, meh) it was such a welcome break to have an afternoon/evening perusing antique stores, buying cool snacks, picking out fabrics, and eating fresh tacos at Tienda Y Taqueria.
Completed home projects. Well, at least PARTIALLY completed home projects. I'm terrible at making decisions, and even when I've MADE the decision I often still feel like I need a nod of approval from my creative genius mother. Then I usually need her to assist me executing the vision. OK, to be fair...often I wind up assisting HER, but oh well. The important thing is that the cheap lamp base with the great shape but ugly paint job that I've begrudgingly toted from house to house is now a solid glossy turquoise and will soon have a nice new fabric covered drum shade.
French fries. And...this may surprise many Oxford townies, but...Old Venice. I had lunch there with my parents today (and dinner with some friends in town who wanted to eat there last month), and both times my meal and overall experience were....honestly, kind of flawless. Today was especially good. My mom and I shared the Mad Italian panini (thinly shaved ham, salami, pepperoni, provolone, pepperoncini peppers, and marinara) and the Tuscan Roasted Vegetable Panini (not positive on the details, but I know it involved roasted portobello mushrooms, squash, zucchuni, red peppers, pesto, and maybe bleu cheese crumbles). Both were fantastic, and the best part...we thought we substituted fries on the side for salads, but discovered when our plates arrived that the salads were an AND and not an OR. Good mistake (though perhaps not from a health perspective), since these shoestring fries were amazing. Perfectly crisp on the outside, soft on the inside, with juuust the right amount of seasoning. Mmmm. Fries.
My Boys. It's a little goofy (maybe a lot goofy) but it's nice and it's fluffy and it makes me laugh. Nice way to ease into a work week.
A pup who (for the moment at least) is peacefully snoozing and not doing any number of things which tend to result in stitches breaking and blood on Mom's carpet. Sweet guy...
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
i love my dog.
A few months ago I noticed a strange bump on my dog Charlie's forehead, just over one eye. At first I assumed he'd run into something (he tends to do that when he's really excited, which is often). When the bump was still there a few days later, I had a vet check it out. She essentially told me to watch it for a few days and if it was still there she'd have to sedate him in order to take a needle aspirate...even though he'd quite calmly taken four different shots on his last trip there.
After being in denial about the bump for awhile, I finally took Charlie to a new vet yesterday, where I was blissfully NOT made to feel guilty for my dog being large and unruly and where it didn't seem that everything was ridiculously overpriced (that's another story). The new vet was troubled by the bump and felt it best to go ahead and remove it and have it checked out. One toenail trim (including fixing and caring for an ingrown toenail), one physical exam, one annual heartworm shot, one sedation, one needle aspirate, one mass removal, and six months worth of Heartguard and Frontline later, I was presented with my banged up but lump free dog, a full explanation in normal person guilt-free and non-salesman language from a much liked vet, and a bill that was just under the cost of a physical exam, two shots, and the same meds from previous vet. Needless to say, Charlie and I have found a better vet.
My poor pup looks like he's been in a fight with Mike Tyson AND his tiger, and it's likely that the bump contained something nasty and unhealthy (think the C word), but even if that turns out to be the case, it feels great to have him back home with the scary stuff gone. I really, really love this guy.
Today I'm grateful for:
The companionship of my best (albeit canine) friend and the knowledge that I've done what's necessary to keep him healthy.
Organized bills and recycling (two things that often tend to take over my space).
Successful attempts at new recipes.
A Coke over ice. Yeah, this doesn't sound like anything big, but I drink, on average, around 24 sodas per year...so a cold Coke to me is akin to candy.
Parents, grandparents and a sister who are always there for me with sympathy, encouragement and support.
After being in denial about the bump for awhile, I finally took Charlie to a new vet yesterday, where I was blissfully NOT made to feel guilty for my dog being large and unruly and where it didn't seem that everything was ridiculously overpriced (that's another story). The new vet was troubled by the bump and felt it best to go ahead and remove it and have it checked out. One toenail trim (including fixing and caring for an ingrown toenail), one physical exam, one annual heartworm shot, one sedation, one needle aspirate, one mass removal, and six months worth of Heartguard and Frontline later, I was presented with my banged up but lump free dog, a full explanation in normal person guilt-free and non-salesman language from a much liked vet, and a bill that was just under the cost of a physical exam, two shots, and the same meds from previous vet. Needless to say, Charlie and I have found a better vet.
My poor pup looks like he's been in a fight with Mike Tyson AND his tiger, and it's likely that the bump contained something nasty and unhealthy (think the C word), but even if that turns out to be the case, it feels great to have him back home with the scary stuff gone. I really, really love this guy.
Today I'm grateful for:
The companionship of my best (albeit canine) friend and the knowledge that I've done what's necessary to keep him healthy.
Organized bills and recycling (two things that often tend to take over my space).
Successful attempts at new recipes.
A Coke over ice. Yeah, this doesn't sound like anything big, but I drink, on average, around 24 sodas per year...so a cold Coke to me is akin to candy.
Parents, grandparents and a sister who are always there for me with sympathy, encouragement and support.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
fried chicken and smokey and the bandit.
A few things I've been grateful for over the course of the weekend:
A lazy rainy Friday night in. It's been awhile since I've been able to just sink into my couch, take a deep breath, and do...not much of anything. I truly am so grateful to serve as a bed and breakfast for an endless stream of family and good friends from out of town, but every now and then it's nice to have a few precious weekend hours to myself.
The opportunity to represent my University. You know you're in the right job when you have to come in on Saturday and you don't mind a bit, since the work load consists of hanging out in the Grove and at the Student Union talking up Ole Miss and snagging free lunch (even though I was so busy gabbing I never got around to the lunch part).
The Oxford Square. After my stint at "work," I headed up to the Square to check out the Oxford Maker's Market. There really just isn't anything like the Square...artists selling their wares on one side, small kids giddily gobbling up mountains of frozen yogurt and toppings on the other. Dogs dragging their owners along for a walk. Pretty coeds in tee shirts with messy ponytails and buns, foreign tourists snapping photos of the Courthouse, relaxed conversations between friends over coffee above it all on the Square Books balcony.
A slow morning with hot coffee in hand and rain outside the window.
Homemade fried chicken and Smokey and the Bandit. Hard not to love homemade fried chicken, but it was even better in combination with a movie that transported me a bit to another time and place and made me remember how it felt to be a young kid in the South. What a great evening...
A lazy rainy Friday night in. It's been awhile since I've been able to just sink into my couch, take a deep breath, and do...not much of anything. I truly am so grateful to serve as a bed and breakfast for an endless stream of family and good friends from out of town, but every now and then it's nice to have a few precious weekend hours to myself.
The opportunity to represent my University. You know you're in the right job when you have to come in on Saturday and you don't mind a bit, since the work load consists of hanging out in the Grove and at the Student Union talking up Ole Miss and snagging free lunch (even though I was so busy gabbing I never got around to the lunch part).
The Oxford Square. After my stint at "work," I headed up to the Square to check out the Oxford Maker's Market. There really just isn't anything like the Square...artists selling their wares on one side, small kids giddily gobbling up mountains of frozen yogurt and toppings on the other. Dogs dragging their owners along for a walk. Pretty coeds in tee shirts with messy ponytails and buns, foreign tourists snapping photos of the Courthouse, relaxed conversations between friends over coffee above it all on the Square Books balcony.
A slow morning with hot coffee in hand and rain outside the window.
Homemade fried chicken and Smokey and the Bandit. Hard not to love homemade fried chicken, but it was even better in combination with a movie that transported me a bit to another time and place and made me remember how it felt to be a young kid in the South. What a great evening...
Friday, July 16, 2010
grove recipe test number one.
Yeah. Expect to eat this if you stop by the Shoals Grove tent this football season. Heck, expect to eat this the next time you invite me over for a dinner party or come to eat at my house. I'm obsessed.
I found this recipe for Orzo with Tomatoes, Feta and Dill on Epicurious.com (click here for the full recipe) and decided to give it a spin for dinner tonight. So simple and easy! Only eight ingredients, including three you probably already have in your kitchen (olive oil, salt and pepper). Throw in a little lemon zest in addition to the title ingredients and those above, and voila...perfect hot weather pasta. I threw in some black olives just for a little something extra, but I don't think they were necessarily needed.
Now...suggestions on a good entree to go along with this?
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
gratitude for america.
There's no denying that our country isn't exactly experiencing the best of times. Here, though, is the fascinating and miraculous thing about US. We can be in the middle of sluggish and unclear wars, frustrating and nerve-wracking recessions, and a bitterly divisive political climate...but when Independence Day rolls around, or the World Cup, or the Olympics...well, then, I can't imagine a people more enthusiastic about their homeland than we are. It seems that the worse things are, the better we as a people become at recognizing what we DO have.
This weekend, obviously, I couldn't help but think about what it is that makes me grateful to be an American citizen. Thankfully I was provided with a few examples:
Barbecue. Simple as that.
School pride. Nowhere else in the world will an alma mater be all it takes for you to bond with a complete stranger.
Sweet tea on screened in porches. This one might be a little regional, but it's still absolutely American.
Road trips, playlists, convenience store junk food.
Country music. Sometimes it can drive me crazy, but this weekend the combo of a porch swing, a cold beer, and Garth Brooks singing Callin' Baton Rouge on the stereo was sheer perfection.
A bunch of young kids on a boat at dusk in Alabama, waiting on the fireworks show to start and entertaining themselves by blasting and singing along with No Sleep 'Till Brooklyn.
This weekend, obviously, I couldn't help but think about what it is that makes me grateful to be an American citizen. Thankfully I was provided with a few examples:
Barbecue. Simple as that.
School pride. Nowhere else in the world will an alma mater be all it takes for you to bond with a complete stranger.
Sweet tea on screened in porches. This one might be a little regional, but it's still absolutely American.
Road trips, playlists, convenience store junk food.
Country music. Sometimes it can drive me crazy, but this weekend the combo of a porch swing, a cold beer, and Garth Brooks singing Callin' Baton Rouge on the stereo was sheer perfection.
A bunch of young kids on a boat at dusk in Alabama, waiting on the fireworks show to start and entertaining themselves by blasting and singing along with No Sleep 'Till Brooklyn.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Flo Town Bound.
Good things today include:
A nice long sunny drive. Good music, good scenery (mostly) and time to THINK. Plus, there's something about crossing the Tennessee River into Florence that just makes me feel all warm and rosy about my hometown...dusky pinkish purplish light reflecting off the bluffs, last bits of sun shimmering on the water, city lights sparkling on the other side of the bridge...simply a great start to the holiday weekend.
Treating myself to a thoroughly unhealthy breakfast from Bottletree Bakery on my way to work. Probably not the BEST idea going into a weekend requiring swimsuit wear each day, but daaaaaarn was that honey cream cheese danish good...
The opportunity to catch UP a little at work. So satisfying to actually get up to date on a few things and not leave for the weekend knowing there's a teetering pile of work waiting on me come Tuesday.
A sliced tomato with salt and pepper from my Grampa's garden. Ahhh, summer.
Arriving at my parents' fabulous, beautiful and comfortable home with a couple of fun days ahead of me. It's always good to be home with family.
A nice long sunny drive. Good music, good scenery (mostly) and time to THINK. Plus, there's something about crossing the Tennessee River into Florence that just makes me feel all warm and rosy about my hometown...dusky pinkish purplish light reflecting off the bluffs, last bits of sun shimmering on the water, city lights sparkling on the other side of the bridge...simply a great start to the holiday weekend.
Treating myself to a thoroughly unhealthy breakfast from Bottletree Bakery on my way to work. Probably not the BEST idea going into a weekend requiring swimsuit wear each day, but daaaaaarn was that honey cream cheese danish good...
The opportunity to catch UP a little at work. So satisfying to actually get up to date on a few things and not leave for the weekend knowing there's a teetering pile of work waiting on me come Tuesday.
A sliced tomato with salt and pepper from my Grampa's garden. Ahhh, summer.
Arriving at my parents' fabulous, beautiful and comfortable home with a couple of fun days ahead of me. It's always good to be home with family.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
a little less humidity.
Today I am thankful for...
The LAST day of the LAST freshman orientation until August. I desperately need some catching up and getting ahead time before Fall classes start!
Freshly pedicured toesies, even if my strict budget means I have to do it myself. I feel so much cleaner with a pedicure, and bright summer coral makes me happy.
A little less suffocating humidity...it was bordering on COOL outside when I took Charlie out this morning, and made for a great start to the day.
The prospect of a long weekend around the corner...and even better, a Fourth of July weekend. In my neck of the woods, the Fourth is just as big as Christmas. It usually involves chicken stew (weird, I know, but it's a Shoals area tradition), a pool, boats and wave runners on Wilson Lake and Shoals Creek, and a big huge fireworks show accompanied by a medley of cheesy American favorites (hellloooo, Lee Greenwood) on the water.
Pulling up to my place after work to find Charlie smiling at me from the patio door.
The LAST day of the LAST freshman orientation until August. I desperately need some catching up and getting ahead time before Fall classes start!
Freshly pedicured toesies, even if my strict budget means I have to do it myself. I feel so much cleaner with a pedicure, and bright summer coral makes me happy.
A little less suffocating humidity...it was bordering on COOL outside when I took Charlie out this morning, and made for a great start to the day.
The prospect of a long weekend around the corner...and even better, a Fourth of July weekend. In my neck of the woods, the Fourth is just as big as Christmas. It usually involves chicken stew (weird, I know, but it's a Shoals area tradition), a pool, boats and wave runners on Wilson Lake and Shoals Creek, and a big huge fireworks show accompanied by a medley of cheesy American favorites (hellloooo, Lee Greenwood) on the water.
Pulling up to my place after work to find Charlie smiling at me from the patio door.
Monday, June 28, 2010
weekend gratitude.
A few little luxuries and reasons for happiness from the weekend:
A clean fluffy dog. I am a procrastinator by nature, but I am especially bad when it comes to bathing my dog/indoor pony. Bathing an 80 pound dog (who is a HUGE baby about bath time) is a hard job for a single mom, and not one that I relish...particularly when there's no hose to do it outside. I try to look at this as the perfect excuse to finally get around to deep cleaning the guest bathroom, since no matter how many towels I layer on the floor or how quick my reflexes are in blocking Charlie when I sense him trying to escape from the tub, the bathroom is always in near post flood condition by the time our tussle is complete. Charlie really, really isn't a fan of the bath, and my lower back really, really isn't a fan of the stooping required for it. Still, it always feels worth it when my damp Airedale is bouncing and spinning around, high on cleanliness and freedom and full of goofy antics...and when his Mom is changed into dry clothes and collapsed on her couch with a cold beer to reward herself.
Sleeping in. Enough said.
Dinner out with friends, both new and old. I love, love, love dining out. Love it. And not just for the food. Eating out is a fantastic experience for so many reasons (when you do it right, at least), but one of the best parts is the conversation stimulated by a good atmosphere, good food, good drink, and good company. I was lucky enough to have two fabulous dinners out over the weekend...one with a family I've known for a long time but haven't seen since Christmas, and one with a mixture of people I've known for years and some I've just met. Both were packed with banter, laughter, stories, and commentary on everything from World Cup to pollution in Shanghai to local gossip to Southern culture. For whatever reason, conversation across a restaurant table just always seems a little richer.
Patriotism. Sure, the American guys lost on Saturday, but it was still worth it to enjoy the scene at The Blind Pig. Little boys with faux-hawks and American flag capes, homemade tee shirts reading "AMERICA" on the front and "F*** Yeah!" on the back (the shirt used asterisks, that's not my edit), a frat boy leading the packed room in a jolly rendition of God Bless America, a pretty female bartender sprinting up and down the length of the bar with the Stars and stripes streaming out behind the flagpole she carried. Pretty great when your team loses, a storm knocks the power out and repeatedly interferes with the satellite, and you still have a super fun afternoon.
Speaking of the storm...finally, I am thankful for blessed cooling rain. It's been awhile since Oxford has seen more than a sprinkle here and there. I just saw that the high tomorrow is 87, and that sounds heavenly compared to the sauna we've experienced for the past several days.
A clean fluffy dog. I am a procrastinator by nature, but I am especially bad when it comes to bathing my dog/indoor pony. Bathing an 80 pound dog (who is a HUGE baby about bath time) is a hard job for a single mom, and not one that I relish...particularly when there's no hose to do it outside. I try to look at this as the perfect excuse to finally get around to deep cleaning the guest bathroom, since no matter how many towels I layer on the floor or how quick my reflexes are in blocking Charlie when I sense him trying to escape from the tub, the bathroom is always in near post flood condition by the time our tussle is complete. Charlie really, really isn't a fan of the bath, and my lower back really, really isn't a fan of the stooping required for it. Still, it always feels worth it when my damp Airedale is bouncing and spinning around, high on cleanliness and freedom and full of goofy antics...and when his Mom is changed into dry clothes and collapsed on her couch with a cold beer to reward herself.
Sleeping in. Enough said.
Dinner out with friends, both new and old. I love, love, love dining out. Love it. And not just for the food. Eating out is a fantastic experience for so many reasons (when you do it right, at least), but one of the best parts is the conversation stimulated by a good atmosphere, good food, good drink, and good company. I was lucky enough to have two fabulous dinners out over the weekend...one with a family I've known for a long time but haven't seen since Christmas, and one with a mixture of people I've known for years and some I've just met. Both were packed with banter, laughter, stories, and commentary on everything from World Cup to pollution in Shanghai to local gossip to Southern culture. For whatever reason, conversation across a restaurant table just always seems a little richer.
Patriotism. Sure, the American guys lost on Saturday, but it was still worth it to enjoy the scene at The Blind Pig. Little boys with faux-hawks and American flag capes, homemade tee shirts reading "AMERICA" on the front and "F*** Yeah!" on the back (the shirt used asterisks, that's not my edit), a frat boy leading the packed room in a jolly rendition of God Bless America, a pretty female bartender sprinting up and down the length of the bar with the Stars and stripes streaming out behind the flagpole she carried. Pretty great when your team loses, a storm knocks the power out and repeatedly interferes with the satellite, and you still have a super fun afternoon.
Speaking of the storm...finally, I am thankful for blessed cooling rain. It's been awhile since Oxford has seen more than a sprinkle here and there. I just saw that the high tomorrow is 87, and that sounds heavenly compared to the sauna we've experienced for the past several days.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
today's gratitude.
Today I am grateful for:
Company coming into town for the weekend.
A front desk shift that was light years more positive and less stressful than any I've had in weeks. Thank goodness for the students who are thankful, compassionate, responsible, gracious, and have a sense of humor! This afternoon I dealt with students of every age, gender, and race, and every one of them behaved in a manner that makes me proud to serve my alma mater and her students.
Lightning bugs and cicadas at dusk. Mmmm, the South at dusk in the summer...I'm not sure if there's anything more magical.
Local hardware stores, particularly Sneed's in Oxford. How is it even possible that a key copying trip during a lunch break could be a pleasant experience? Sneed's somehow manages it.
My pup's head resting against the side of my leg.
Company coming into town for the weekend.
A front desk shift that was light years more positive and less stressful than any I've had in weeks. Thank goodness for the students who are thankful, compassionate, responsible, gracious, and have a sense of humor! This afternoon I dealt with students of every age, gender, and race, and every one of them behaved in a manner that makes me proud to serve my alma mater and her students.
Lightning bugs and cicadas at dusk. Mmmm, the South at dusk in the summer...I'm not sure if there's anything more magical.
Local hardware stores, particularly Sneed's in Oxford. How is it even possible that a key copying trip during a lunch break could be a pleasant experience? Sneed's somehow manages it.
My pup's head resting against the side of my leg.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
today's gratitude.
Today I am grateful for:
The 50% off sale at Nielsen's that provided me with super chic (and super cheap!) dinner napkins in the exact same print as a shower curtain I previously lusted after. Nothing like a little indulgent treat to perk you up...especially when the treat is also a bargain!
Actually getting up in time to shower before work. I'm aware that this should be an everyday thing, but I usually resort to showering before bed with the assumption that there's just no way I'll get up in time to do it. I'm not knocking showering before bed, but there's just something about starting off the morning fresh and clean that is a huge positive attitude booster.
The delicious smell of a roast cooking away in my Crock Pot. This is my first time cooking a roast, and since it's still cooking I can't yet claim it also TASTES delicious...but the smell certainly seems to be a good sign...
lonnymag.com. Domino used to be my best source for beautiful home decorating daydreams and ideas (and Domino, oooooh how I miss you), but thank GOODNESS Lonny Mag has taken up the torch online.
Two days in a row wearing my contacts! Again, not such a big feat unless you know the whole story...I've been having stressful eye issues for months now. My eye doctor finally diagnosed me with Giant Papillary Conjunctivitis. Lovely, right? It sounds a lot worse than it really is...possibly. Essentially it means i'm allergic to something in Accuvue Oasis contacts which causes bumps to develop on the inside of my eyelids. Pleasant. She also noted that I have chronic dry eye AND grass allergies. From a practical standpoint, all of that means I've been stuck in old prescription eyeglasses for weeks now. I know it's cliched, but...I really honestly don't feel as attractive in glasses. For starters, I have to go without sunglasses. And if you know me, you know that I practically feel naked without a pair of big sunglasses. Besides, squinting in bright sunlight just isn't all that sexy. I also don't feel like I have as much energy, spunk, attitude. ANYWAY, the thing to be grateful for is that it would seem that things are finally getting back under control, since this is the first time I've managed to wear contacts two days in a row without my eyes flaming up in protest. Yay me.
The 50% off sale at Nielsen's that provided me with super chic (and super cheap!) dinner napkins in the exact same print as a shower curtain I previously lusted after. Nothing like a little indulgent treat to perk you up...especially when the treat is also a bargain!
Actually getting up in time to shower before work. I'm aware that this should be an everyday thing, but I usually resort to showering before bed with the assumption that there's just no way I'll get up in time to do it. I'm not knocking showering before bed, but there's just something about starting off the morning fresh and clean that is a huge positive attitude booster.
The delicious smell of a roast cooking away in my Crock Pot. This is my first time cooking a roast, and since it's still cooking I can't yet claim it also TASTES delicious...but the smell certainly seems to be a good sign...
lonnymag.com. Domino used to be my best source for beautiful home decorating daydreams and ideas (and Domino, oooooh how I miss you), but thank GOODNESS Lonny Mag has taken up the torch online.
Two days in a row wearing my contacts! Again, not such a big feat unless you know the whole story...I've been having stressful eye issues for months now. My eye doctor finally diagnosed me with Giant Papillary Conjunctivitis. Lovely, right? It sounds a lot worse than it really is...possibly. Essentially it means i'm allergic to something in Accuvue Oasis contacts which causes bumps to develop on the inside of my eyelids. Pleasant. She also noted that I have chronic dry eye AND grass allergies. From a practical standpoint, all of that means I've been stuck in old prescription eyeglasses for weeks now. I know it's cliched, but...I really honestly don't feel as attractive in glasses. For starters, I have to go without sunglasses. And if you know me, you know that I practically feel naked without a pair of big sunglasses. Besides, squinting in bright sunlight just isn't all that sexy. I also don't feel like I have as much energy, spunk, attitude. ANYWAY, the thing to be grateful for is that it would seem that things are finally getting back under control, since this is the first time I've managed to wear contacts two days in a row without my eyes flaming up in protest. Yay me.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
gratitude.
I suck at gratitude. Really, I do. I sometimes have a hard time expressing gratitude to those closest to me, and I couldn't even really tell you why. Likewise, I often find that I have a hard time keeping myself focused on the positive things in my life. It's just so easy to get bogged down in the difficult stuff...lost relatives, breakups, financial burdens, health issues, etc.
A few years ago my Mom referenced an Oprah show (of course) in which Oprah and a guest discussed keeping gratitude journals, essentially pausing during or at the end of each day to reflect and jot down five or so things they were grateful for in the past 24 hours. I passed this off as being somewhat new age and goofy, the power of positive thinking and all that.
In my old age, however, I'm beginning to change my mind a little. Maybe there really IS something to the art of forcing yourself to think positively. I've been thinking that perhaps it would do me good to spend a little time focusing on the positive things, both small and large. And that means you, dear readers, are going to be exposed to it...
Today I am grateful for:
Fresh raspberries brought back from a family friend's garden in Florence. They made for a fabulous breakfast this morning mixed with whipped vanilla yogurt.
An unexpected financial windfall, albeit a small one. Apparently the upside to living in an old beat up apartment is that you get your security deposit back so long as you don't bash a great big hole in the wall or something. I've lived in plenty of apartments, duplexes, rental homes, etc, and put down plenty of deposits. I've never gotten a single one back, so I absolutely wasn't expecting this! Definitely a nice surprise, and an answered prayer for sure.
Guilty pleasure television. Say what you want, but there's no better way to top off an extended work day, a busy grocery trip, and an evening of cleaning than a lounge on the couch and new episodes of The Hills and The City.
The wonderful sound of a relieved mother laughing delightedly after I explained her daughter's financial aid eligibility and proved that she'll have enough money to make it work (and in the meantime looked up Paris's province for her, since the daughter needed it to list place of birth on her application). Definitely worth staying late.
My first michelada of the Summer (beer, lime juice, a shot of Zing Zang over plenty of ice).
Cheers!
A few years ago my Mom referenced an Oprah show (of course) in which Oprah and a guest discussed keeping gratitude journals, essentially pausing during or at the end of each day to reflect and jot down five or so things they were grateful for in the past 24 hours. I passed this off as being somewhat new age and goofy, the power of positive thinking and all that.
In my old age, however, I'm beginning to change my mind a little. Maybe there really IS something to the art of forcing yourself to think positively. I've been thinking that perhaps it would do me good to spend a little time focusing on the positive things, both small and large. And that means you, dear readers, are going to be exposed to it...
Today I am grateful for:
Fresh raspberries brought back from a family friend's garden in Florence. They made for a fabulous breakfast this morning mixed with whipped vanilla yogurt.
An unexpected financial windfall, albeit a small one. Apparently the upside to living in an old beat up apartment is that you get your security deposit back so long as you don't bash a great big hole in the wall or something. I've lived in plenty of apartments, duplexes, rental homes, etc, and put down plenty of deposits. I've never gotten a single one back, so I absolutely wasn't expecting this! Definitely a nice surprise, and an answered prayer for sure.
Guilty pleasure television. Say what you want, but there's no better way to top off an extended work day, a busy grocery trip, and an evening of cleaning than a lounge on the couch and new episodes of The Hills and The City.
The wonderful sound of a relieved mother laughing delightedly after I explained her daughter's financial aid eligibility and proved that she'll have enough money to make it work (and in the meantime looked up Paris's province for her, since the daughter needed it to list place of birth on her application). Definitely worth staying late.
My first michelada of the Summer (beer, lime juice, a shot of Zing Zang over plenty of ice).
Cheers!
Monday, April 12, 2010
there's something about clean sheets...
Lately I've noticed that freshly washed sheets on my bed seem to be more effective than any sleep medication on earth. Is this just me? For some reason I find that even when I go to sleep in turmoil, my mind racing, unmet obligations stacked up to my ears...I still wake up recalling nothing after turning out my bedside lamp. The problem is that I wake up feeling as though I've chugged an entire bottle of Nyquil.
I'm pretty sure that my bed felt more comfortable than it ever has before this morning. Comfortable enough for me to hit the snooze button and drowsily ponder the above...as well as a few other things.
Just thought I'd share a few recent observations...maybe SOME of them will be a little more significant than my deep thoughts on clean sheets.
1. It is entirely possible to fall in love and have a great relationship (for awhile, at least) with someone you still think is amazing but who you are not going to be able to stay with long term because of practical considerations (timing, finances, geography). This is a really scary observation for me, but one I had to learn I guess.
2. Anyone driving around Mississippi at this time of year with a shiny clean car has clearly just thrown away precious money or time. Just chill out and drive around in a dusty green pollen-coated car like the rest of us for a few weeks.
3. Speaking of cars...what happened to the days when someone at least waved or smiled when you let them pull into a line of traffic or cut through? Today I stopped to let a female student pull in front of me to enter a parking lot and watched in annoyance as she continued to gab into her cell phone without ever acknowledging my existence.
4. First observation: if you live in the South and don't know who Dixie Carter or Julia Sugarbaker is, you've clearly been in a coma since the late 80s. Second: I associate watching Designing Women as a young girl with the first time I remember feeling fiercely proud to be a gracious, opinionated, witty, loving, terrifying, smart and crazy Southern female. As I suspect most little girls do, I was incapable of watching any television show or movie without calling dibs on which character I would be. I'd mostly grown out of this by the time Designing Women came on the air, but from the first episode I watched I knew, without a doubt, that I wanted to be Julia. The woman who played her clearly wasn't all that different in real life, and with her passing we have lost a great example of what it means to be a Southern Lady. That term is often reduced to a negative cliche, but I think she serves as a prime example of what it really means...after all, only in the South can a lady get away with telling someone "I find you rude, lazy, horny, and dumb." We will miss you, Ms. Carter.
I'm pretty sure that my bed felt more comfortable than it ever has before this morning. Comfortable enough for me to hit the snooze button and drowsily ponder the above...as well as a few other things.
Just thought I'd share a few recent observations...maybe SOME of them will be a little more significant than my deep thoughts on clean sheets.
1. It is entirely possible to fall in love and have a great relationship (for awhile, at least) with someone you still think is amazing but who you are not going to be able to stay with long term because of practical considerations (timing, finances, geography). This is a really scary observation for me, but one I had to learn I guess.
2. Anyone driving around Mississippi at this time of year with a shiny clean car has clearly just thrown away precious money or time. Just chill out and drive around in a dusty green pollen-coated car like the rest of us for a few weeks.
3. Speaking of cars...what happened to the days when someone at least waved or smiled when you let them pull into a line of traffic or cut through? Today I stopped to let a female student pull in front of me to enter a parking lot and watched in annoyance as she continued to gab into her cell phone without ever acknowledging my existence.
4. First observation: if you live in the South and don't know who Dixie Carter or Julia Sugarbaker is, you've clearly been in a coma since the late 80s. Second: I associate watching Designing Women as a young girl with the first time I remember feeling fiercely proud to be a gracious, opinionated, witty, loving, terrifying, smart and crazy Southern female. As I suspect most little girls do, I was incapable of watching any television show or movie without calling dibs on which character I would be. I'd mostly grown out of this by the time Designing Women came on the air, but from the first episode I watched I knew, without a doubt, that I wanted to be Julia. The woman who played her clearly wasn't all that different in real life, and with her passing we have lost a great example of what it means to be a Southern Lady. That term is often reduced to a negative cliche, but I think she serves as a prime example of what it really means...after all, only in the South can a lady get away with telling someone "I find you rude, lazy, horny, and dumb." We will miss you, Ms. Carter.
Friday, March 19, 2010
a little inspiration...
I heard a snippet of a story about this installation on NPR today during my lunch break, and thought I'd share the YouTube video I found. I want to be as creative as this guy.
Céleste Boursier-Mougenot at Barbican Centre, London
national day of unplugging.
National Day of Unplugging
Hello, my name is Katie, and I'm an internet addict. A little bit of a television addict too. When I was younger I was driven crazy by people who left televisions on even when they weren't watching, just as a habit. Come in, turn on lights, turn on TV. Now I realize that I do the same thing. Yesterday evening we had BEAUTIFUL weather in Oxford. Even after the sun went down there was just this pervasive feeling of impending Spring, and a sense of all of the energy and reflection and peace that comes with it. I had every intention of leaving my television OFF and cleaning in preparation for company whilst enjoying some music...but by the time 7 o'clock rolled around, I was on my couch, tuned in to NBC and frantically chucking my laptop out of my lap during commercial breaks to run and complete one little household task at a time.
As for the internet, I always used school as an excuse. I HAD to be online constantly because of school...except that 99.9% of my time online was spent on Facebook, iTunes, AIM, celebrity gossip sites, online shopping sites...not exactly school related. Sometime after I graduated, after everyone got jobs and we all moved to different locations and had less time to spend constantly updating our Facebook pages and gabbing on instant messenger, I finally realized that I was still spending a significant portion of my day staring at my laptop screen. Still desperately hanging on even though there really wasn't THAT much to do online anymore. At my low point, I literally couldn't visit a friend's home for an hour without picking up their computer for a quick check of my various pages and accounts.
This was all before smart phones became the norm. Not that I have an iPhone, it's even worse. One of the bigger problems in my last relationship was my failure to connect, and the iPhone was a constant issue. Even in the moment I knew I spent too much time fixated on the screen...playing Mah Jong tiles, checking email, and, again, the ever deadly Facebook page. I knew that he had a point, that it really did make him feel like he may as well have not been in the room with me...but still I couldn't stop.
At first all of these things seemed like they enriched my life. The aforementioned guy and I started dating after exchanging a flurry of MySpace messages...it was just so much easier to be bold on MySpace than to approach each other in person. Watching TV gave us witty things to talk about. Our phones encouraged blatant flirtation via text message. But in the end, I imagine for him it began to feel as if all along I'd really been in a relationship with technology and he was just one of me and technology's many mindless hobbies.
The bottom line is...more and more technology is making me feel like a junkie. I crave the feeling of being connected, and technology gives it to me with little to no effort. The problem is that at the end of the night, when I finally power down the computer, turn the TV off, and place the phone on the charger, I just feel...empty. Like I've wasted precious hours of my life and missed out on things I may have experienced during them, whether they be something as small as watching how peaceful my pup looks curled up and dreaming, or as big as (hah) writing something that turns into a best selling novel. It feels as if it's taking more and more to achieve the high, and like the low of the withdrawal is growing ever more dreadful.
As it often goes, we typically don't buck up and try to fix things until the damage has already been done. So it goes with me. Don't get me wrong, though, I want to cure myself of my addiction to technology for me and me alone. I think that checking off things on my Happy List (referenced previously) will help, but the National Day of Unplugging seems like a really good kickstart. Doesn't hurt that it just so happens we'll have another day of glorious weather for it...
Hello, my name is Katie, and I'm an internet addict. A little bit of a television addict too. When I was younger I was driven crazy by people who left televisions on even when they weren't watching, just as a habit. Come in, turn on lights, turn on TV. Now I realize that I do the same thing. Yesterday evening we had BEAUTIFUL weather in Oxford. Even after the sun went down there was just this pervasive feeling of impending Spring, and a sense of all of the energy and reflection and peace that comes with it. I had every intention of leaving my television OFF and cleaning in preparation for company whilst enjoying some music...but by the time 7 o'clock rolled around, I was on my couch, tuned in to NBC and frantically chucking my laptop out of my lap during commercial breaks to run and complete one little household task at a time.
As for the internet, I always used school as an excuse. I HAD to be online constantly because of school...except that 99.9% of my time online was spent on Facebook, iTunes, AIM, celebrity gossip sites, online shopping sites...not exactly school related. Sometime after I graduated, after everyone got jobs and we all moved to different locations and had less time to spend constantly updating our Facebook pages and gabbing on instant messenger, I finally realized that I was still spending a significant portion of my day staring at my laptop screen. Still desperately hanging on even though there really wasn't THAT much to do online anymore. At my low point, I literally couldn't visit a friend's home for an hour without picking up their computer for a quick check of my various pages and accounts.
This was all before smart phones became the norm. Not that I have an iPhone, it's even worse. One of the bigger problems in my last relationship was my failure to connect, and the iPhone was a constant issue. Even in the moment I knew I spent too much time fixated on the screen...playing Mah Jong tiles, checking email, and, again, the ever deadly Facebook page. I knew that he had a point, that it really did make him feel like he may as well have not been in the room with me...but still I couldn't stop.
At first all of these things seemed like they enriched my life. The aforementioned guy and I started dating after exchanging a flurry of MySpace messages...it was just so much easier to be bold on MySpace than to approach each other in person. Watching TV gave us witty things to talk about. Our phones encouraged blatant flirtation via text message. But in the end, I imagine for him it began to feel as if all along I'd really been in a relationship with technology and he was just one of me and technology's many mindless hobbies.
The bottom line is...more and more technology is making me feel like a junkie. I crave the feeling of being connected, and technology gives it to me with little to no effort. The problem is that at the end of the night, when I finally power down the computer, turn the TV off, and place the phone on the charger, I just feel...empty. Like I've wasted precious hours of my life and missed out on things I may have experienced during them, whether they be something as small as watching how peaceful my pup looks curled up and dreaming, or as big as (hah) writing something that turns into a best selling novel. It feels as if it's taking more and more to achieve the high, and like the low of the withdrawal is growing ever more dreadful.
As it often goes, we typically don't buck up and try to fix things until the damage has already been done. So it goes with me. Don't get me wrong, though, I want to cure myself of my addiction to technology for me and me alone. I think that checking off things on my Happy List (referenced previously) will help, but the National Day of Unplugging seems like a really good kickstart. Doesn't hurt that it just so happens we'll have another day of glorious weather for it...
Sunday, March 7, 2010
allow me a few moments of nostalgia...
In a strange way, it seems that often the cliched moments in life are what turn us into the beautiful, complicated individuals that we are. These cliches wake us up, I think. They provide gateways of possibility. And regardless of how cliched they may be, of how many times they have happened to millions of people before....in the moment, to us, they are magical.
So many of these moments happened for me in one building...a former cotton gin turned bar just off the Square in Oxford, Mississippi. Named, of course, The Gin, since it really could never have been known as anything else. The bar was 18 and up, 21 to drink. IDs checked at the door. Those of age were marked with a random symbol of the night, jotted onto hands with magic marker. A red star one night, perhaps a blue triangle the next. Those of us under age were scrawled with a black X, if I recall. We took to carrying packs of markers in our oversized purses. Once in the door we glided past the bar on our way to the ladies room, pausing only briefly to observe the hands of those ordering drinks before darting in and heading straight for the sink to furiously scrub the black marker from our hands and replace it with the necessary symbol. One night I walked in to find a girl that I knew checking IDs. She waved me through with a conspiratorial grin, saying something like "oh it's OK, I know YOU'RE 21..." For the first time in my life I felt like I was in the loop with people my own age. That was huge.
My first college dance with a boy was on the dance floor at The Gin, to the sounds of a song like Sexual Healing or Let's Get It On, sung by a band called Super Tyrone. Tyrone himself was a wiry African American man who wore an ill-fitting superman costume with a T across his chest. Not the most romantic experience in theory, but for a girl who felt mostly ignored by boys her entire life, there couldn't have been anything more romantic than a boy feeling compelled to ask her to dance after glimpsing her across the room.
By the end of that year I was dancing on a table (albeit reluctantly) in the corner as the Kudzu Kings played on stage, and happily making the rounds on the sprawling back patio greeting friends and eating crawfish. I had seen musicians like Bobby Rush and discovered that there was so much more music out there than what I heard on the radio. That summer I would drive two and a half hours from my hometown, ironically homesick for Oxford, just to spend an evening enjoying Penny Pitchers at The Gin.
By the time that the word began to spread that The Gin was closing, I was practically a different person from the one who had arrived in town a couple of years beforehand. In many ways I was still unremarkable...I wore the same black leather jacket that most college girls at the time were wearing. I carried a leopard print bag (completely unlike me) and desperately wanted a boyfriend. Still though...the events that took place in that bar had set some wheels in motion. This girl walked with confidence. She started conversations with people she didn't know and wasn't thoroughly uncomfortable with people looking at her. She sometimes drank bourbon. Most importantly, she had learned to be OPEN. To new adventures, new music, new people, new clothes, new drinks, new bedtimes, new ideas, new places. New everything. Old everything too, but anything that was new to me.
When The Gin closed, my life was moving so fast that I barely paused to grieve. I'm sure that I wasn't yet smart enough to fully recognize what had happened. I went right on about my life, growing and expanding and refining. In the meantime, The Gin slowly decayed. Looking down over it from the Murff's balcony, the scene was almost haunted or post-apocalyptic. I chose to view it, as I suspect most dedicated Oxonians did, as a positive thing. I preferred the ruins to the alternative...another bland condo rising in its place. Plus, it always seemed that as long as the ruins were there, as long as the basic shell of the building existed...there was a CHANCE. Some magical chance that somehow, one day, it would be open for business and I would somehow have access to the same feelings and experiences I'd had before.
Last night my friend Tayla and I were sitting at the bar in Ajax Diner when a well known local came rushing by from a table in the back, pausing to call out to us that The Gin was burning before sweeping out the front door. We jumped up and followed, I suppose just assuming, as comfortable Oxford folk do, that we knew the bartender and surely our bags and beers were under safe supervision. Just a few steps down the sidewalk and we stopped, staring at the massive column of smoke rising into the sky just over the shoulder of the Courthouse. Over the southeastern skyline of the Square sparks flew upward from a warm and eerie orange glow. People were running toward it. Most who frequent the Square can tell you that it's rather commonplace for a fire truck to scream through the inner loop. As one wailed past me at that moment, it occurred to me that after over ten years, it was the first time I'd ever seen one pass and known where it was heading. Tayla, never the emotional type, briefly laid her head against my shoulder. We watched for a moment, and then turned to walk back up the sidewalk to our beers. On our way back to the car we wandered over as close as we dared. In the darkness we could only make out a black mass. It was easier to spot the continuing waterfall pouring down onto it from the fully raised crane of one of the several firetrucks. The entire Square was hazy with smoke.
I don't know how the fire started. I don't suppose that it really matters. One thing that I have learned from living in the town where I went to college is this: college towns are always evolving. As we passed through we heard giggly undergrads pause in their gawking to inquire "what WAS that building anyway?" One girl walked away from the scene quietly, the only quiet one amongst her gaggle, pausing to look over her shoulder with a look that I immediately recognized as just the teeniest bit of awareness. It made me smile a little. The time of The Gin may be over, but somewhere else in town, that girl will grow up and become herself, develop very specific tastes and opinions and a very specific future...even if it starts with underage drinking and dancing on tables. I wish that for her and all girls like her.
But as for me...I'll go back to trying new things, but I pause to raise my glass to The Gin.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
the happy list.
Have you ever put so much effort into something good in your life that you unwittingly turn it into a NOT good thing? So much effort that you grow lazy when it comes to all other good things in your life? Without going into TOO much detail, this is how I'm feeling as of late...like I have somehow developed a crushing and stressful case of tunnel vision, spending months and months pouring all of my focus and energy and attention into one of the good things in my life, only to be shaken into reality and discover that the good thing has soured into something marked by pressure and obligation and stress and that all of the other good things just OUT of my narrow field of vision have grown dusty, rusty and forgotten.
I find it almost hard to remember the "other" good things...even though for the vast majority of my life they've been all I had...but a few obvious things stick out. My family and my friends. Extensive writing and reading. Extensive traveling. Music. New experiences in general.
Here's what my relatively recent life has been like for the most part: Get up, go to work. Come home. Put on lounge clothes. Fix something to eat. Settle onto the couch. Watch TV, surf internet. Have perfunctory phone conversation with some combination of family members/boyfriend. Go to bed. Repeat.
I can't do it anymore. To borrow a line from the Vampire Weekend song referenced in my last post, my soul has grown old and rusty, and before I just accept that this is who I am now, I have to do something (or several things) to remind myself of who I REALLY am.
And so I'm making a list of things that will provide me with happiness. Just the act of making a list gives me a bit of happiness, so it feels like a small start in and of itself. I don't necessarily intend to share EVERYTHING that is on the list or that goes on later, but here are a few initial entries:
1. Clean out my closets and filter out the things that I don't like, that don't fit, that are stretched out/stained/frayed/worn out, or that just frustrate me for reasons I can't even explain.
2. Take small weekend road trips much more frequently to see my dear friends in Memphis, Jackson, Tuscaloosa, Birmingham, New Orleans, and Nashville.
3. Get a serious haircut, just for a good shake-up.
4. Cliched, but make walking/running outside part of my routine as soon as the weather is remotely warm enough to do so (which should be happening very soon I hope!)
5. Start that budget I mentioned months ago in earnest...
6. ...mainly in order to start saving enough money for plane tickets to visit friends in LA, NYC, North Carolina, Dallas, Denver, etc.
7. Give up at least half of the TV shows I follow. In other words, turn off the damned TV and listen to music, clean, read a book, go out to eat, go or a drink, etc.
8. A little more detail on the previous entry I guess...but get out of the house at least one weeknight each week.
9. Give my Charlie dog a little more attention...more playtime, more car rides, more baths.
10. Do all of the girly grooming things I've mostly abandoned...manicures and pedicures, new perfumes, experiment with makeup, and so on.
I'm open to further suggestions or advice, gang.
I find it almost hard to remember the "other" good things...even though for the vast majority of my life they've been all I had...but a few obvious things stick out. My family and my friends. Extensive writing and reading. Extensive traveling. Music. New experiences in general.
Here's what my relatively recent life has been like for the most part: Get up, go to work. Come home. Put on lounge clothes. Fix something to eat. Settle onto the couch. Watch TV, surf internet. Have perfunctory phone conversation with some combination of family members/boyfriend. Go to bed. Repeat.
I can't do it anymore. To borrow a line from the Vampire Weekend song referenced in my last post, my soul has grown old and rusty, and before I just accept that this is who I am now, I have to do something (or several things) to remind myself of who I REALLY am.
And so I'm making a list of things that will provide me with happiness. Just the act of making a list gives me a bit of happiness, so it feels like a small start in and of itself. I don't necessarily intend to share EVERYTHING that is on the list or that goes on later, but here are a few initial entries:
1. Clean out my closets and filter out the things that I don't like, that don't fit, that are stretched out/stained/frayed/worn out, or that just frustrate me for reasons I can't even explain.
2. Take small weekend road trips much more frequently to see my dear friends in Memphis, Jackson, Tuscaloosa, Birmingham, New Orleans, and Nashville.
3. Get a serious haircut, just for a good shake-up.
4. Cliched, but make walking/running outside part of my routine as soon as the weather is remotely warm enough to do so (which should be happening very soon I hope!)
5. Start that budget I mentioned months ago in earnest...
6. ...mainly in order to start saving enough money for plane tickets to visit friends in LA, NYC, North Carolina, Dallas, Denver, etc.
7. Give up at least half of the TV shows I follow. In other words, turn off the damned TV and listen to music, clean, read a book, go out to eat, go or a drink, etc.
8. A little more detail on the previous entry I guess...but get out of the house at least one weeknight each week.
9. Give my Charlie dog a little more attention...more playtime, more car rides, more baths.
10. Do all of the girly grooming things I've mostly abandoned...manicures and pedicures, new perfumes, experiment with makeup, and so on.
I'm open to further suggestions or advice, gang.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
what do jake gyllenhaal, a jonas brother, and lil john all have in common?
...they're all in Vampire Weekend's music video for a single from their new album, Contra. Hmm. Random?
The song is Giving Up The Gun, and I like it. But I haven't met a Vampire Weekend song that I don't like. They're all just so soaring and bouncy and comforting. Anyway, you can find the video here....
The song is Giving Up The Gun, and I like it. But I haven't met a Vampire Weekend song that I don't like. They're all just so soaring and bouncy and comforting. Anyway, you can find the video here....
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
poem for the day (as stolen from a friend, who stole it from The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor)
Cleaning up after the Dog
Pull plastic bag from pocket
and wave it like a flag
or diploma. Make sure many people
congratulate your care
for the community.
Check bag for holes.
Double check.
Inspect stool for odd hues.
Greens, blues, blood.
Evaluate consistency.
You don't want to leave smears
on the sidewalk or grass—no prints.
Getaway must be clean.
Prepare to go in for all of it.
Hold breath.
Grab, clamp, reverse bag, twist, knot, cinch.
Smell hands.
Hold loaded bag high in the air,
assure onlookers that Everything is Okay.
If a cop should cruise by,
his crew cut bristling
in the sun,
hold that bag higher,
so he, too, can salute
your contribution.
The bomb diffused,
the world a little safer, a little cleaner,
will not offend the deep treads
of someone's shoes.
In response to this poem I'll just say...thank you, Katie O., for a reminder that I should be grateful to A) not live in the city with a dog; and B) own a dog who prefers to back up into any handy bush or clump of underbrush and use it as his personal toilet rather than go right out in the open.
Check out The Writer's Almanac site for more interesting tidbits...
Monday, February 1, 2010
why I hate living alone.
When my little sister graduated and moved out, leaving me living alone for the first time, it felt like the most blissful thing imaginable. I could prostrate myself on the couch with dirty hair and no makeup without fear of my roomie having company over. For the most part I could go to sleep in my preferred state of blissful silence. Ceiling fans were permanently turned off, which meant that I was never chilly and never had dry contact lenses.
I've often wondered since then if I would ever be able to share a home with another person without major issue. It's been quite a while, and I am awfully used to having it my way. Are these throw pillows a little too girly? Eh, who cares. Should I paint the inside of this cabinet bright turquoise? Why not. Stash all of my pretty/fancy kitchen things in separate cabinets from my old/ugly things, even though it's completely impractical? What the heck, it's my kitchen anyway.
Those are the pros of living alone. Putting things wherever you wish. Leaving your home clean or dirty, depending on your mood. Temperature set just the way you like it, colors just as you selected them. But there are also, unfortunately, some major cons. I'd be lying if I said I'd never experienced that cliched moment of seeing a news story about some poor person choking to death in their lonely apartment and thinking "Oh crap....that could happen to me..." Every now and then I'd give my right arm to have someone else around the house to let Charlie out at lunch when I'm too busy. And finally, there is the ultimate con....there's no one else around to help you catch a mouse.
Yes. A mouse. In my bathroom. I'd like to think that I've actually made it pretty far in life before having to endure a face-off with a wild warm blooded creature in my space, and to tell the truth, this creature was pretty adorable... but that certainly didn't provide me with any assurance in the moment. In the moment I shrieked and cursed and jumped back as if I'd happened upon a viper. I had enough presence of mind to quickly block the mouse into a corner with items from the room, and then to curse my property manager and maintenance man for not sealing the gap underneath the bathroom vanity that just happens to back up to a crawlspace. And then, when the mouse apparently decided he'd rather live in the new habitat I'd created for him than crawl back from whence he came, I freaked out a little bit again. A cute mouse in a pet store is one thing. A cute mouse who may just happen to run across my toes while I'm brushing my teeth is quite another.
I picked up the phone and realized that I was going to have to choose one of two cliches....either call my boyfriend and interrupt his card game with a ridiculously girly problem...or call my daddy and provide him with further proof that his 30 year old daughter still can't take care of herself. Having pestered Ben enough for one week (and having at least a little respect for the sanctity of guys' card night), I went with Option B. My dad only jokingly asked if perhaps it was someone's pet and then told me it wouldn't bite and to grab a shoebox. Great.
In the end I armed myself with a tupperware bowl and an issue of Marie Claire, took a deep breath, and then removed a section of the barricade and nudged the mouse through it with a plunger. One loud curse, a clap of tupperware against the floor, several scampering steps outside, and one mouse flying off into the thick pile of leafy underbrush across from my apartment later, the rodent problem was solved. Well, after all of that and a few minutes spent stuffing the open space with old washcloths.
You'd think that in the end I'd feel confident, proud, content. As if I'd single-handedly managed to cross one big Con out on my Living Alone list. I didn't feel that great, though. Not at all. A little proud of myself, sure, but when I texted Ben about what I'd done and remarked that I'd be glad when he was around to catch the mice, he texted back that better yet, he'd make sure all the walls and spaces were sealed so that I'd never have to find them. And that just made me even more sick of living alone than I was to begin with.
I've often wondered since then if I would ever be able to share a home with another person without major issue. It's been quite a while, and I am awfully used to having it my way. Are these throw pillows a little too girly? Eh, who cares. Should I paint the inside of this cabinet bright turquoise? Why not. Stash all of my pretty/fancy kitchen things in separate cabinets from my old/ugly things, even though it's completely impractical? What the heck, it's my kitchen anyway.
Those are the pros of living alone. Putting things wherever you wish. Leaving your home clean or dirty, depending on your mood. Temperature set just the way you like it, colors just as you selected them. But there are also, unfortunately, some major cons. I'd be lying if I said I'd never experienced that cliched moment of seeing a news story about some poor person choking to death in their lonely apartment and thinking "Oh crap....that could happen to me..." Every now and then I'd give my right arm to have someone else around the house to let Charlie out at lunch when I'm too busy. And finally, there is the ultimate con....there's no one else around to help you catch a mouse.
Yes. A mouse. In my bathroom. I'd like to think that I've actually made it pretty far in life before having to endure a face-off with a wild warm blooded creature in my space, and to tell the truth, this creature was pretty adorable... but that certainly didn't provide me with any assurance in the moment. In the moment I shrieked and cursed and jumped back as if I'd happened upon a viper. I had enough presence of mind to quickly block the mouse into a corner with items from the room, and then to curse my property manager and maintenance man for not sealing the gap underneath the bathroom vanity that just happens to back up to a crawlspace. And then, when the mouse apparently decided he'd rather live in the new habitat I'd created for him than crawl back from whence he came, I freaked out a little bit again. A cute mouse in a pet store is one thing. A cute mouse who may just happen to run across my toes while I'm brushing my teeth is quite another.
I picked up the phone and realized that I was going to have to choose one of two cliches....either call my boyfriend and interrupt his card game with a ridiculously girly problem...or call my daddy and provide him with further proof that his 30 year old daughter still can't take care of herself. Having pestered Ben enough for one week (and having at least a little respect for the sanctity of guys' card night), I went with Option B. My dad only jokingly asked if perhaps it was someone's pet and then told me it wouldn't bite and to grab a shoebox. Great.
In the end I armed myself with a tupperware bowl and an issue of Marie Claire, took a deep breath, and then removed a section of the barricade and nudged the mouse through it with a plunger. One loud curse, a clap of tupperware against the floor, several scampering steps outside, and one mouse flying off into the thick pile of leafy underbrush across from my apartment later, the rodent problem was solved. Well, after all of that and a few minutes spent stuffing the open space with old washcloths.
You'd think that in the end I'd feel confident, proud, content. As if I'd single-handedly managed to cross one big Con out on my Living Alone list. I didn't feel that great, though. Not at all. A little proud of myself, sure, but when I texted Ben about what I'd done and remarked that I'd be glad when he was around to catch the mice, he texted back that better yet, he'd make sure all the walls and spaces were sealed so that I'd never have to find them. And that just made me even more sick of living alone than I was to begin with.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
NOLA vacay.
As previously mentioned, Ben and I took a little post Christmas trip to New Orleans over the holidays. I know a lot of my readers (as in, 6 out of all 8 of you, hah) have been to NOLA or spent extensive time there. I've been a few times myself....as a little kid, as a high school student mortified to be with my parents, as a wild sorority girl on a wedding weekend trip, and most recently as a single working girl thrilled to be out on the town during Mardi Gras. My trip with my guy was definitely a laid back couple getaway. These have all been great trips, but they've also all been very different trips, almost like they each took place in different cities.
That's one of my favorite things about New Orleans...it somehow manages to feel new and familiar at the same time. On this particular trip, I got the new experience of sharing New Orleans (or part of it, at least) with Ben for the first time. Not to brag or anything...but I think I did a pretty decent job.
After checking in at the Hotel Saint Marie on Toulouse, we wandered over to Pat O'Briens for a hurricane in the courtyard...a must for a NOLA trip. Then over to Jackson Square to take in the sights, including some pretty hilarious dancing street performers at the amphitheater on Decatur Street. After climbing up to check out the river we walked across the Quarter over to the Royal Street Oyster House for dinner...really a split second choice since we didn't have a plan, but we had a GREAT experience there. Then back to the room to bundle up against the cold before heading back over to Cafe du Monde for some dessert beignets and coffee and chicory (of course). A nice evening walk around the quieter parts of the Quarter was followed by drinks back at the piano bar at Pat O'Briens. Definitely seems like a pretty generic touristy NOLA day, but between watching Ben's reaction to everything and getting to indulge in a few things I haven't enjoyed in awhile it was a pretty perfect day.
Day two started with a quick walk-through at the French Market. When I was younger I always wanted to speed past the produce and foodstuffs in order to dig through cheap sunglasses, scarves, jewelry, mardi gras masks, etc. As an adult the trip is precisely the opposite. Afterwards we popped into a hole in the wall bar called Turtle Bay on Decatur to partake of a great deal on beers, and then discovered that the bar menu sounded too good to pass up. Thus lunch became loaded nacho french fries (amazing) and sweet potato fries with maple syrup and powdered sugar for dessert (also amazing). A little more wandering and a quick rest break later, we were headed over to get in line for Acme. The chargrilled oysters made the meal for me, but I have to say...I am only a fan of community style seating when it's in a spacious and relaxed atmosphere. Being tightly packed into the middle of an 8 top table and having to yell across at each other was a little stressful, to say the least. We bar hopped in and out of a pretty relaxed spot that I unfortunately can't name before landing BACK on the same section of Decatur Street at a bar called Pravda. Definite old school Russian theme, but somehow done in a phenomenally effective and comfortable way. I'd dashed into this bar on a previous trip while watching the Krewe de Vieux parade and even then had made a mental note to come back. Ben and I settled in and stayed awhile. I LOVE the red shaded table lamps...it makes things so cozy.
For our last full day we made a strategic decision...hit up a few spots suggested by folks, but only long enough for a snack and a drink at each spot (to avoid post-lunch sluggishness). We stopped into a pretty touristy restaurant on Bourbon called LaBayou. I was quite hesitant, given the wealth of negative reviews I'd found on my Yelp application, but between a good solid Bloody Mary, pretty darned tasty boudin balls, a not-too-crowded or noisy space, and a really awesome waiter...my experience was nothing but pleasant. Our next stop (after an indulgent stop in at Urban Outfitters, so sue me) was the Crescent City Brewhouse, which was very...average. I might have had a different reaction had we been able to sit on the balcony, but in spite of a few tables eating out there during obvious lunch hours, the hostess bluntly informed us it was closed and started walking toward an inside table without giving us the option of a further request. The inside decor kind of seemed like we could have been in any American restaurant in any city, and while the house crafted beer was good, I don't know if it was worth a stop in on limited vacation time. As we neared Bourbon again Ben finally gave in to the desire to try a hand grenade (seems like you can't make a block without seeing that tell tale tall neon green cup). It occurred to me that I'd never had one myself, so we ducked in to the correct spot (too much neon, too much tropical print, too much loud music, too much everything) and grabbed a couple to go. Were we younger the drinks might have been the kickoff to a wild night...but for us the only real result was the need for some rest time before heading over to the Marigny for dinner.
We didn't have a set plan on where to dine in the neighborhood, but since Lisa had previously suggested we visit Snug Harbor for the music, I decided to check out their food on Yelp. I discovered that people LOVE it...and a couple hours later, Ben and I were in love as well. A wonderfully cozy spot that doesn't take itself too seriously, with great patrons, great staff, and a dish called Fish Marigny that was possibly my favorite of the trip. Ben was pretty thrilled with his fried oyster sandwich (more like a platter that happened to have a bun and dressings) and loaded backed potato (larger and with better toppers, like sauteed mushrooms) as well. Full and content, we moseyed down a few doors to d.b.a., a bar that was recommended seemingly by everyone I know in Oxford, and had the best bar experience I've had in awhile. Our petite bartender was wonderful, paying attention to our preferences and making suggestions for future rounds. A group sitting in one of the window areas had a couple of great doggies on leashes. The man in his fifties sitting a couple seats down was easygoing and friendly. The New Orleans Cottonmouth Kings played perfect happy Dixieland jazz. Hah, and my white russian concocted with vanilla vodka and Mint Chocolate Baileys? One hell of a dessert.
Before leaving town on our last day we popped into Coop's Place, THE spot for jambalaya according to a few locals. The food was great, the bar cat residing in the window just beside our table (and occasionally hopping over my lap and bounding off the corner of the table to reach her windowsill) was hilarious, and the bloody marys were the best of the trip. Our last stop was at Envie, a coffee shop a couple of blocks down with the best cast of NOLA characters you can imagine, a wonderfully clean but character packed interior, and fabulous coffee. These two places were ALSO on Decatur, in the same area as the previous bars. I think that this stretch of street will become a pretty standard stop for us in the future.
Hope y'all enjoyed a few of the nine billion pictures Ben took during the trip...
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
bad blogger. bad.
Yes, it's been awhile. A long while I suppose. I would say that I've been waiting for inspiration, but recently my significant other referred me to a podcast aimed at debunking the idea that "waiting for inspiration" really works. The basic point was that if you're trying to produce something creative, just sit down and do it, whether you feel like it or not.
So, since I'm a writer, I suppose that means I should write. But while I do believe that the above point is correct, I also figure that easing into it isn't a terrible idea either. So I'll call this enough writing for now and share some of my favorite photos instead...taken by said significant other, who is obviously better at just doing it in his particular medium. The above picture, by the way, was taken a few months ago inside what used to be The Gin in Oxford, Mississippi. Very, very creepy, if you're one of the folks who used to practically call this place home on Monday nights. Aaaahh, penny pitchers.
The second photo features Mamasita,
a local Oxford cat who calls Off Square Books home. Sometimes you'll find her demurely curled up on a chair or posing in the window, but more often than not she sets up camp right on top of a stack of books. So far I've been lucky, but I've always wondered if anyone has ever scurried into the shop on a deadline, seeking out a particular book, only to find Mamasita sleeping peacefully atop every last copy. What would one do in this situation?
I just love the photograph of O'Neal Bridge. It may not be so interesting to everyone else, but to me it's just wonderfully warm and rosy and familiar. It also makes me long for a nice warm day on the lake in the Shoals.The last one is me, as you might have guessed. It seems kind of narcissistic to post a picture of myself when I'm sort of bragging on my fella's photographs, but as he'll readily tell you, I very rarely approve of any photograph of myself. So the fact that I enjoy this one makes me feel like it surely has some artistic merit. Obviously I'm a little biased, but I find it hard to believe he's only been shooting for about a year. It's pretty nice to have a personal photographer around to document life, especially when life contains so many great things. Like a post Christmas trip to New Orleans, which I'll post on soon (complete with more pictures from my guy...and maybe a little more writing from me).
I'm appreciating the little things in life much more these days for all sorts of reasons, so I'm going to try to check in more often to relate the good stuff.
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