not the Marion kind

The plastic bag around my head

2010-07-30T12:25:00.000-07:00

"Normal has always felt like a lie to me, a too-tight sweater we force ourselves to wear. Normal has never been too kind to women, to children, or people of color, people mired in poverty, anyone different in any way. Normal is good for no one, really. It is a lie we all decide to believe--after even the most cursory look, no one is actually normal; it is a plastic bag we wrap around our own heads." --Allison Cooper

It's been over a year now since my last post. I won't go into all the whys, but basically it was because I felt like I was failing at normal. My normal has always been strange, but I'm usually lighthearted, fun to be around. This time last year I wasn't much fun to be around anymore. So I went through a period of trying to reclaim normal. Until I realized normal is just not going to happen for me. And it was scary. Kind of like having a plastic bag around my head. I found myself in the most claustrophobic situation I've ever experienced. And I've been in some tight spots: caving in Colorado, shopping on Black Friday, riding a bus in China. I actually enjoy tight spots . . . they initially create a certain level of comfort. Like a big bear hug. But there's a point when your air runs out. When you no longer know the difference between your own clammy arm and the sweaty coolness of whatever or whomever is beside you.

And that's how I felt. Like my air had run out. I didn't know myself anymore.

So I quit. But not right away.

I've never been much of a quitter. My pride just doesn't let me. But pride is an entry in my "things I lost last year" column--it's written in big, bold letters. When I lost that, everything became an option. I thought about fleeing the country, but my passport had expired. ALWAYS keep your passport up to date. Then I thought about joining the circus. But their entry-level positions probably involve lots of dung. I even thought of just disappearing suddenly. All would have made fantastic stories really, but I would have just been running away from my problems.

So I turned in my notice in February and began the process of slowly walking away. And that's how I came home again. I'm certainly not the Marion kind anymore. Nor am I the Eva kind. You might think I'm in limbo. Just waiting for what comes next . . . It seems like my life is paused and I've skipped ahead to add to the appendix of my life, like I'm storing information that may not seem relevant, but might come in handy one day. A few weeks ago I learned the fine art of kraut making from my father. Then I learned how to can that kraut. I'm thinking of learning how to quilt. I'm sewing more, sleeping more, and listening more. But I'm realizing that maybe this is not an appendix to my story after all. All of these experiences that I'm saying "yes" to are now part of my story. They're things that people with "normal" jobs can't find the time to do.

I want more of these stories. And that's why I want to go to this conference:
http://www.donmilleris.com/conference

I want to live a better story . . . definitely one in which the heroine is not suffocating herself with the plastic bag of normalcy.

Living a Better Story Seminar from All Things Converge Podcast on Vimeo.

The Pooloozi at the Blue Lagoon

2009-07-23T06:48:00.000-07:00

The plan was good, just not thoroughly thought through. All we knew is that we were hot as hell. And bored to tears. And we needed something to satiate our thirst for some backyard adventure.

We have been talking about a pool for two summers now. First it was a small plastic one filled with ice right in the middle of the "J". But when they finally got around to redecoratuing, we decided that the cerulean gleam would clash too much with the dull russet, velvet barrel chairs (that perfectly match the terrazo triangle) and the auric and mutedly azure, floral, retro sofas. So we decided Susan's backyard would be the perfect environ for a pool--one that we might just be able to sit in if we postitioned ourselves right.

Fresh off our Independence day holiday, we researched our options, and after being put on hold by the Brent Wal-mart, for what seemed an eternity to our one-track minds, we set off in search of a pool. Money was an object, so we didn't get far. Some cosmic energy told me we should stop at Fred's. EUREKA! We bought their cheapest pool, an 8-foot inflatable blue beauty, and went back to the duplex. After abducting a hose and filling the pool with 530 gallons of Marion's finest tap water, we stepped into pure bliss.

O.K. Maybe it wasn't pure bliss. By this time the gloaming had settled over our quaint hamlet. The water was a smidge on the arctic side. And the mosquitos that descended upon us were the size of blue-faced boobies and more numerous than the Persian army at Thermopylae. We three, much like the 300 Spartans, decided we could not keep the skeeters at bay for more than one night.

The next afternoon we left in search of a screened tent. Much to our dismay, there was no tent to be found in Marion. We braved the chance of bomb threat and found our best option at the Selma Wal-mart, along with a floating cooler (which we lovingly call the party barge) and canine repellant (which we decided we would need to keep the dogs from chewing the tent pegs). After erecting all the tent poles and slipping them into their correct slots, we placed the tent over the pool and settled in for an almost mosquito-free evening.

The next afternoon we realized that we should have sprayed the canine repellant over the whole tent.

The utter destruction that ensued has not discouraged our pool-going. The slime that took over shortly after the destruction set us back a few days, but even that is coming under control thanks to the good Dr. Jones.

We sit. We scheme like children, making big plans for parties and tiki-torches and fitting as many people into the Pooloozi as possible. The way I see it, if we scoot really close to the edge and lay over sideways, we could probably fit a whole bunch of people in there.

So come on over. Bring your beverage of choice and join us for an afternoon in the Blue Lagoon.

My Mom's Name in Lights

2009-06-24T13:12:00.003-07:00

A local eating establishment in Eva has added my mom's name to a menu item . . . a plump, juicy hotdog. They named the corn dog after the sheriff.

Wordless Wednesday

2009-06-03T13:04:00.001-07:00

Wordless Wednesday WHAT?!?!?!

2009-04-29T19:44:00.000-07:00

REALLY??? What's the point?

There are just too many words for wordless wednesday . . .

2009-04-08T11:54:00.001-07:00

After 2 weeks of trying to get quarters and postcard stamps in this town, only to discover that the bank and the post office both close at 4 and at 12 on Wednesdays (many, many harsh words were said towards the good people of the USPS), I finally made it to the bank. I had just judged Mrs. Whis's yawping contest for her American Lit class and sounded my own barbaric yawp over the rooftops of Judson and thought I'd run some errands before making my way into the office (we had a really late night here at the JC . . . but more of that later).

I pulled up to the drive-through and saw this:

At first I thought she might be out of her own car because she couldn't reach the bin, or maybe her window wouldn't roll down. But when the car ahead of me drove away, this happened:

And I knew just then that I was one step closer to seeing it all. She finished her business at the window and walked back around to her car in the front. Marion . . . of all the cities in the USA . . .

Now for the late-night story . . . I can't say much because I'm bound by the honor of a sisterhood spanning 171 years, but I can tell you that there was a fiery robe and a mad dash around an inner circle (thankfully, Jewett is not set to catch fire for another 40 years). It seems stop, drop, and roll isn't the first thing that pops in your head when you're on fire. AND there was a bit of hurling in the place where men (and women) tell no tales.

And, finally, a little confession of insanity: I believe I might be the reincarnation of Anne Kirtley.

Wordless Wednesday

2009-03-25T09:06:00.001-07:00

so I now know that watercolor is not my medium.

Cutest Asian Baby in the World

2009-03-18T12:09:00.000-07:00

I said Asian baby so as not to offend any of you with little tykes of your own . . . or almost your own. But I think she's gorgeous:

My dearest Chinese friend Chen Yandie, a.k.a. Butterfly, sent me a picture yesterday of her daughter, Caterpillar, who was born in December. I've yet to find out the real name, but I'll keep you posted.

I met Butterfly after she saw my picture in the local newspaper and she sent a letter to me through the college where I worked. We met for coffee . . . before I drank coffee . . . and then we met for dinner at least twice a week thereafter. I was able to return to China almost 3 years ago for one of her wedding banquets. I say one of because there were 3: one in her hometown, one in the town where she works, and one in the city where he works. They still don't work or live in the same town, even after the arrival of little Caterpillar.

Wordless Wednesday

2009-03-18T12:04:00.000-07:00

Lucky Schmuck

2009-03-12T08:27:00.000-07:00

B-12! Under the B . . . 12!
This is just about the only number I covered in my foray into gambling this past Saturday night. My lucky friend won twice . . . and she won exactly the prize she wanted. And the old ladies at another table with their six cards apiece bingoed so much that they needed a horse trailer to take home their winnings. Well, it was for a good, non-profit cause so I might just use the the $15 I spent playing quarter bingo as a tax write-off.

Wordless Wednesday

2009-02-25T14:49:00.001-08:00

Wordless Wednesday

2009-02-18T19:05:00.000-08:00

Wordless Wednesday

2009-02-11T15:31:00.000-08:00

Wall-E is trapped inside a wall at Judson. How ironic.

HELP!

2009-02-05T14:50:00.001-08:00

I want to create a new blog or website that will have just my prints on it, but I need a name for it. So far I've thought of a lot of good ones that were already taken (somedaymyprintswillcome, theinkspot . . . ) and some that aren't, but I'm not sure how I feel about them. You be the judge:
inkofftheoldblock
splinterprints
justplainink
printsbythepauper

If you have any other suggestions I would love to hear them!

I GOT IT!

2009-02-05T11:42:00.000-08:00

They liked my print. They're using it! HOWEVER, I have to add a river to the bottom where the words were. Keep your fingers crossed now that I don't screw that up.

It made it . . .

2009-02-03T14:34:00.000-08:00

about 12 hours late. The main thing is that it arrived. And is now being considered for use. Here's the finished product:

Coming Soon to a Bluegrass Festival Near You . . .

2009-01-28T13:40:00.000-08:00

the artwork of Susie Allison.

I got asked to do another print . . . this one's for the World of Bluegrass Festival. Mine hasn't been picked yet, but keep your fingers crossed. And also pray that it gets to Chattanooga by tomorrow. Seems you can't get anything out of Marion overnighted.

恭喜发财，红包拿来!

2009-01-26T14:50:00.000-08:00

Congratulations and be prosperous, now give me a red envelope! In case you don't follow the lunar calendar, today is Chinese New Year. And the red envelope refers to the practice of visiting your relatives to receive a red envelope full of money. Man, I wish we were more like the Chinese. This year is the year of the ox, meaning that if you were born in '49, '61, '73, '85, or '97 THIS IS YOUR YEAR! You're supposed to be dependable, calm, methodical, patient, hardworking, ambitious, conventional, steady, modest, logical, resolute, tenacious, or maybe stubborn, narrow-minded, materialistic, rigid, demanding . . . Congratulations! I hope you're all wearing your red underwear today, cause that seems to be lucky. I have mine on!

In honor of Chinese New Year, I thought I'd post my update from Chinese New Year 6 years ago . . . enjoy.

Last you heard I was hopping a train to Hong Kong. And now that I’m writing again you know I made it safely, if not sanely, back to Sanming. I came back early with plans to visit some of my students from last year in their hometowns. But as soon as I stepped out of the taxi a colleague informed me that I we were starting early because of inspections. So a new semester started with a fury of polishing everything from the floors to the lesson plans. This meant extra meetings, practice teaching, and wasted time, all for an inspection that lasted about 10 minutes for the whole English department. But my vacation was wonderful--relaxing, fun, refreshing. It was all a vacation should be, along with a few surprises. I’m including a translation or the nickname of each city, so not only will you be informed and entertained, you’ll be educated!

Hong Kong--Fragrant Harbor

I spent the first five days of my journey in Hong Kong with Leigh, a friend from college who teaches there. Dawn, another Amity teacher, whom I often travel with, was also in there, so we meandered around the city in the daytime while Leigh was teaching. Mostly, we shopped. I spent five days in a shopper's paradise but have nothing to show for it besides a stamp in my passport. Five days of mall hopping and all I bought was food: Italian, Indian, Thai, and American. I drank enough Mountain Dew to last me until next Christmas, but when I tried to smuggle it back over the border in my backpack the customs agents detained me and made me drink it all. I never noticed the Dew listed on the dangerous substance lists before.

Yunnan Province--South of the Clouds

Kunming--Spring City

This year’s Amity conference was held in Kunming, also known as “the city of eternal spring” by the Chinese. After a short flight from Shenzhen and an argument with taxi drivers, Dawn and I decided to take a bus to our hotel. We knew we were close. What we didn’t know was the name of the hotel or, as we’d eventually find out, the correct address. After two hours of wandering, calling, and asking random police officers, we dragged our luggage into our hotel and collapsed. The remainder of the conference could be nothing but refreshing after the afternoon we spent trying to get there.

The most memorable part of the conference was a trip to Wuding, a small village of Christian families about three hours from Kunming. We visited the village, made up of mostly Miao minority, to see other projects sponsored by the Amity Foundation. We were greeted with curious stares, warm food, and a children’s choir. We toured the new library, medical clinic, primary school, and church and sat down for a meal with the villagers. After eating our fill of rice and vegetables, we joined together to sing hymns, everyone singing the same familiar tunes in many different languages.

Xishuangbanna--12,000 Pieces of Land

Having had our fill of tour groups and schedules during last year’s Spring Festival, travel pals Dawn, Grete, and I planned our own vacation. The only plan we had for this city was to stay in the bamboo hut hostel. We made it through one night. Just as we were ready to go to sleep, we pulled out the trusty Lonely Planet guidebook and read the description of our hostel: Known for the occasional rodent visitor. Grete, who was sleeping on the floor that night due to a lack of vacancies, claims to have been visited in the middle of the night. The next morning we found a new hotel.

We couldn’t have picked a better spot to just lounge. And for 7 days that’s about all we did. We moved from restaurant to restaurant, eating and reading, and then back to our hotel to sleep. Don’t call us lazy just yet. We rented bikes twice for a ride along the Mekong river and through the countryside. The weather was beautiful, the food was recognizable (most of the time), and the company was agreeable. After six days of lounging, Grete took off for the rest of her exotic vacation, and Dawn and I saw her off at the airport then took a long walk back through the rice fields. We stayed another night in the ratty bungalows and hopped a plane bound for Dali the next day.

Dali--Great Order or Big Fish

A turbulent flight and a shaky landing later we arrived at an airport atop a mountain and found our only way down was by taxi. We quickly befriended two Japanese tourists who shared a cab ride to our hotel. Dali turned out to be the most Western-influenced traditional Chinese town I’ve ever seen. They had bagels! And homemade ice cream! And the strange shoe man who we saw in three different places on three different days. He came up to me each time, pointed at my shoes, looked at me with a huge smile on his face, said “shoes!”, and walked away. The first time it was strange. The second time it was bizarre. By the third time we had become old friends, and now I kind of miss him.

Our three-day stay included shopping, eating, and touring Er Hai (ear lake) and surrounding villages. We lucked up on a private taxi deal that took us where we wanted to go for a day. We visited temples, had a 4-course tea party, and shopped at a huge market that was appropriately named Xiaping(pronounced just like shopping). This was an open-air market spread across a bare hillside where people came to sell everything from vegetables to clothing to antiques. I got caught at an antique booth by a woman selling woodblocks for printmaking. She didn’t convince me they were from the Tang Dynasty, but she did convince me to buy three before Dawn pulled me out.

Because we were staying in a youth hostel we had two roommates, who, fortunately, were a middle-aged Chinese couple. We’d use all the Chinese we knew at night to try to talk to them. By the end of our stay we’d become close enough for them to invite us to spend next Spring Festival at their new home in Dali.

Lijiang--Beautiful River

We had heard from another Amity Teacher that Lijiang is like Disney World. I was a little disappointed when there was no Space Mountain, but there was a breath-taking snow capped peak visible from almost everywhere in the town. We spent our days there trying to keep warm by navigating through the maze of alleys filled with souvenir shops. It was definitely touristy. And it was definitely cold. And our hotel definitely did not have weather-stripping on the doors or windows. The hotel was an old family compound with a courtyard in the middle. At night we warmed our feet by the pan of fire in the courtyard. By the time we got back to our room they were cold again. So we slept with our clothes on. And tried to block the wind breezing through the cracks in the old wooden doors.

Broke and cold, we headed back to Kunming to meet some friends, and the following day I flew back to Fujian province and hopped a train to Sanming. The past few weeks have flown by. I’m becoming acquainted with my new students and trying my best to stay in touch with the old ones. They’re in and out of class trying to find jobs, worrying over interviews, and moving on. And my life in China goes on--morning firecracker wake-up calls, mad dashes to catch the bus I just missed, words tumbling from my brain to my tongue and out of my mouth, confusion. Ah, to speak freely using polysyllabic words!

I hope you’re all doing well and enjoying the sights and smells of a new spring.

Word-full Wednesday

2009-01-21T09:15:00.000-08:00

There are lots of words for this Wednesday: proud, joyful, hopeful, amazed, grateful . . . Come to think of it, there really aren't enough words.

Now that I've expressed my views on national issues, in local news:

Elmcrest, my current office location, has no heat. The 100-year-old boiler went out on the coldest day of the year. So now I sit here basking in the heat of natural sunlight (I'm lucky enough to have an office on the sunny side) with a cool draft blowing across my face (from the massive gaps between the A/C unit and the window pane). I'm wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt, a long-sleeved t-shirt, a sweater, a pea coat, pajama pants, jeans, thick fuzzy socks, a scarf, and a hat. Quite toasty considering that yesterday, while skipping chapel to watch the inauguration in Elmcrest on the big screen, I'm pretty sure my feet froze to my shoes through my trouser socks. Darn professional dress days-with your drafty pants and thin socks and shoes that only half cover your feet!!

My new work attire:

So far, I've been called a chimney sweep, a fisherman, a paperboy (all British), and a train engineer and been asked where my motorcycle is. I'm warm and they're jealous. I got this flippin' sweet hat at the French Market with some beignets and cafe au lait just hours before I almost caught fire-twice! You might still see the ash left from the exploding fireworks or the cigar--no, I wasn't smoking it.

In other news, I'm doing Scale Back Alabama again and I lost 3 lbs in the past week (though you can't really tell it cause I'm wearing so much).

Frozen Friday

2009-01-16T09:23:00.001-08:00

Hushed-Up Hump Day

2009-01-14T15:24:00.000-08:00

(almost) wordless Friday afternoon

2009-01-09T13:12:00.000-08:00

Last Wordless Wednesday this is where I was standing:

2009-01-05T12:54:00.000-08:00

A Little Christmas Cheer . . .

2008-12-19T09:56:00.000-08:00

My homage to the late great Chris Farley:

Not Quite Wordless Wednesday

2008-12-17T09:42:00.000-08:00

This picture deserves a story.

This is what remains of the house where my great-grand maw Allison lived. It's slap in the middle of a pasture now, but when my Dad was a little boy he would wake up early on Christmas morning and go here for biscuits and honey.

From what I hear, most of my character flaws (i.e., my temper) came from the woman who lived in this house. One evening, about this time of year-60 years ago, my dad was sitting with his grandmother by the fire (notice the chimney in the middle of the house). They were playing a game called fox and geese, a home-made board game played with dried beans, buttons, or whatever you might find lying about in great quantities. The way he tells it, he had her cornered and was just about to beat her when she took the board and all the pieces and threw them into the fire.

One evening, about this time of year-4 years ago, I was sitting at a table with my cousin's children. We were playing Monopoly-the kind with real fake money. The way I've heard it retold at every family get-together since then, I was about to get wiped out after landing on somebody's Boardwalk with 2 hotels on it and I took the board and all the money and threw them on the floor. Had there been a fire around I might have directed some more kindling its way.

The First 20, or You Only Thought You Knew Me

2008-12-10T13:51:00.000-08:00

So I came across this interesting alternative to those get-to-know-me games people send around. I think what a person listens to says a lot about them. I also like that it melds two of my favorite things: music and trivia. So, if you have an iPod I challenge you to pass this along. If you don't, blindly pick 20 songs from your favorite CDs.

I will list the first line of the first twenty songs that popped up in my iTunes library when set it to shuffle (no matter how embarrassing they are), and you have to guess the song and the artist by the first line. Once a song has been determined, post a comment so people can move on to figure out the rest of the songs. Entering the lyrics into a search engine is cheating. So, don't be crazy enough to think I'll believe it if you answer all correctly.

OK . . . I have edited the wordless that popped up: Fugata as performed by Yo Yo Ma and some random soundtrack music; and I omitted the Chinese, Japanese, and Lebanese songs that no one in their right mind would ever get, nor could I ever write the words to those. I did, however, include the #1 MOST VIRAL Romanian song of all time.

1. Alo, Salut, sunt eu, un haiduc,

2. Put the keg on my coffin and think of me ever so often.

3. Whatever Lola wants Lola gets, And little man, little Lola wants you.

4. I thought I saw a man brought to life.

5. Well you ask me if I'll forget my baby--I guess I will someday.

6. Take away the sensation inside--the bittersweet migraine in my head.

7. I've got a symbol in my driveway--I've got a hundred million dollar friends.

8. Under ground I'm waiting, just below the crowded avenue . . .

9. Spend all your time waiting for that second chance . . .

10. Lover, I'm on the street. Gonna go where the bright lights and the big city meet.

11. Come as you are, as you were, as I want you to be.

12. Well the Lord said "Let there be" and there was.

13. Lines on your face don't bother me.

14. I want to run. I want to hide.

15. Where do we go, nobody knows.

16. Kick it! You wake up late for school, man you don't wanna go!

17. It's been a hard day's night.

18. The space in my mind is too small for you. The space in my heart is too small for you too.

19. There's a port on a western bay and it serves a hundred ships a day.

20. Little boxes on the hillside, little boxes made of ticky-tacky . . .

I have WEIRD taste in music.

Wordless Wednesday

2008-12-10T09:39:00.001-08:00

Wordless and Gone With the Wednesday

2008-12-03T09:41:00.000-08:00

Wordless Wednesday

2008-11-26T07:12:00.000-08:00

The Sunday School Lesson

2008-11-25T13:15:00.000-08:00

The past two times I've been back to Eva for a visit I've been bombarded with questions about my prospects for marriage. The first memorable moment happened when I had gone home for a day a few weeks ago. I accompanied my parents to the swearing in of the newly elected commissioners in Morgan County during this visit. This little old lady, who it seems behaves inappropriately quite often (she walks into people's houses and goes straight to the bedrooms, commenting all the while on decorations and overall set-up of the house), asked some questions about where I worked and what I did. Her line of questioning then turned toward my personal life when she asked if I had a boyfriend. When I answered no, she ever so emphatically demanded I find one before it's too late.

This past weekend I ventured home again and was acosted four times in one weekend. The first came from a preacher. He and his wife had come over to go out to eat and on the way out the door he asked if I had a boyfriend. When I said no, he insisted that I "ought to get one just for the experience of it." It is my understanding that experience and dating do not necessarily go hand in hand. I didn't say anything in response, just smiled and nodded. Then at dinner an old family friend asked my mom if I had me a fella, and when she said no he said if he was 50 years younger and a lot better lookin' he'd ask me out. When we left I asked my parents if I had a look of desperation about me recently.

The next day at church the Sunday School teacher's husband was just trying to find out what had been going on in my life and he asked me the question. When I said no, his wife taught me perhaps the most important thing beyond Jesus Loves Me that I've ever learned in a lifetime of Sunday School: It's better to want what you don't have than to have what you don't want. I then sat through a sermon on seeing the silver lining in any situation (which got a little off course when the preacher started talking about how pitiful widows and widowers are--going home to fix meals for just one person and talking to the photos of their deceased spouses--I wonder what he thinks the never-marrieds do). The Sunday School lesson came in handy when the disgruntled old man from a previous post asked me yet again if I had a boyfriend. I gave him the Sunday School answer, and just like my mama before me, I shut him up real fast. I'm sure his wife would wholeheartedly agree with the sentiment.

Moral of the story: Don't ask. If you're important enough to me I'll tell you when the time comes.

Wordless Wednesday

2008-11-20T14:55:00.001-08:00

Young @ Heart

2008-11-18T15:24:00.000-08:00

Add this to your must-see lists. It'll destroy your concept of old. So, go now. Rent it. Buy it. Netflix it. Do whatever you have to do to see this film.

And while you're waiting, YouTube it.

Election

2008-11-13T16:27:00.000-08:00

I grew up in the polling place. My parents served as poll workers, so every two years since birth I've spent at least 30 minutes and sometimes several hours, depending on the availability of a baby sitter, sitting at the polls with my parents. Sometimes they'd let me hand out stickers, sometimes they'd let me mark off the names (probably not so legal) . . . but they'd always let me help with closing those big blue dinosaur voting booths with the blue-green plaid curtains. They seemed to spit election results right out their backsides. We would go to town to turn in the big box of voting materials (sometimes I would keep the golf pencils, extra stickers, etc.), all the while listening to election results on a local radio station. We would also get to eat out on this night and sometimes, when we knew someone running for local office, go to results parties.

As a child I even made up my own elections. Barbie and GI Joe voted with golf pencils in a shoe box. Sometimes Lion-O smashed Voltron in a landslide victory to win president of the universe. Other times She-Ra eked out a win over Optimus Prime. Of course, I didn't understand the electoral college (still don't understand why) so my candidates always won by popular vote. Smurfs didn't really take an interest in public affairs, communal beings that they were. And the Gummi Bears could never sit still long enough to cast their votes, as they were bouncing here and there and everywhere.

I couldn't wait to vote when I turned 18. I still get excited to vote despite the months of incessant bickering and attempts at pandering to public interest that lead up to that first Tuesday in November. It is something that my parents expect of me almost as much as they expect me to go to church on Sundays. That's why, when someone tells me, "I don't vote," I stare at them like they have two heads.

But I'm starting to understand why people might be turned off to the whole experience rather than subject themselves to ridicule by friends, co-workers, family members, and even church-goers because of their vote. My mom was recently complimented, albeit discourteously, on her vote by an indignant church member when she asked him to refrain from talking about the recent election in church. He used language common to the early 20th-century south, a name given to anyone who appeared to treat black people with respect, a name that has no place in a civilized society, moreover a place of worship. She could have been offended, but her reply was simply, "You're right. And I'm proud of it." She said it shut him up fast, but if she hadn't had laryngitis she might have told him off something fierce.

I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality.... I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word.
-from Martin Luther King, Jr's Nobel acceptance speech

I urge, then, first of all, that requests, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for everyone—for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness.
1 Timothy 2:1-2

Bottom Feeders

2008-10-22T12:37:00.000-07:00

My dad was defeated in the runoff. But before you start feeling sorry for him, let me share his reaction: "Let them have the $#!*." Now, he didn't say this angrily or dejectedly, but matter-of-factly. So, you be the judge. Was he referring to

the current coucil members and their troubles over a sewer system for the town--phase 1 has been completed and phase 2 is waiting on a "promised" 100,000 or so in grant money from the state of Alabama (I'm sure we could all think of better things to do with a few hundred grand)
-or-
all the people who were promised free food at Bobby's (a local, over-priced catfish restaurant) if they voted for his opponent?

I think they both might apply quite well to the situation.

I've always said that in politics, your enemies can't hurt you, but your friends will kill you. -Ann Richards

IF YOU CAN'T PLAY NICE, PLAY FIELD HOCKEY.

2008-10-17T13:02:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Ms. Susan Jones, that there is this year's theme for Hockey Day. If you'll be attending and would like a shirt, let me know so I can place that order by Monday October 20th. If you're not attending, ask real nice and I'll send you one for pert near the same price. If this could somehow make it to the unofficial Judson alumnae facebook site, I'd be much obliged. They'll be $10 . . . black, with the hockey day part on the center chest, and the mean smiley on back. Available in long and short sleeve.

Today's rain has been great for the drought and for my aching hockey-worn muscles. You'd think if I have been working out almost every day since January, I'd not be so sore. Alas, I am . . . I guess neither the recumbent bike, the treadmill, the free weights nor the lateral pull work those muscles the same as a hockey stick.

Save the Day

2008-10-17T09:45:00.000-07:00

Kate's new CD . . . my art. You can buy my work at Barnes & Noble (click on the picture above, then click on the Details & Credits tab, and I'm listed for the Cover Art [thanks, Melissa]). I'm also available at Target.com (no credits), Amazon.com (also, no credit), CDUniverse.com (no credit), Tower.com (best price, but no credit) . . . Yeah, I'm famous. What of it?

I must disclose that I did not do the color portion, but think it's a great idea for future prints.

The one about the horse

2008-10-06T11:55:00.000-07:00

I promised long ago to tell you about and experience I had when I went to see a man about a horse. On August 9th, the day after the opening ceremonies of the Beijing Olympics, I got a hankering to get a horse. It was a whim . . . I was sitting in the office on a Saturday getting ready for the RAs, who were coming in Sunday, when it hit me that I really wanted a horse. So I told my fellow indentured servants, Jodi and Susan, who were also laboring on their "off" day, that I really wanted to go get a horse. Susan knew just the place. She had gone with her friends to get horses there and they all had been satisfied with theirs.

I called the number I found online and the receptionist told me they'd be there and that I didn't need an appointment . . . So we drove to Birmingham. When we pulled up a woman was coming out the front door in a tizzy. She said that they were closing and she was going downtown to get a horse and wouldn't be back to this place. They're real nice downtown, she said. We went in anyway. The receptionist with whom I spoke told us everyone was sick or going home and gave us all coupons for $20 off our next purchase, but only if you see a guy named Jeff about the horse. Dejected yet slightly relieved, I drowned my sorrows in the purchase of a $1 Wal-mart greeter vest at the Alabama Thrift Store. Nothing turns around a crappy day like a big ol' smiley face plastered on a blue vest. It's one of those gifts that keeps on giving . . . I even have some stickers to pass out when I wear it so I can give that same feeling to the folks I see every day.

RAs came, then volleyball and soccer players, and my week passed and I thought I'd never get a horse. When Saturday rolled around and we needed to escape before the freshmen moved in, I convinced my pals to go with me to see a man about a horse again. Susan needed supplies for helping the fine folks of Marion during Marion Matters and I needed to pick up t-shirts, so we combined it with a trip to Home Depot and loaded the school van with paint and school supplies and t-shirts. We ate a celebratory meal and headed once again to see Jeff. He was there, gave me a quote, I paid, Jeff left.

I waited 2.5 hours while watching WWF wrestling, which alone could be used to torture folks. Jeff never came back. I asked, not so nicely, if I could come back. The same receptionist, this time clad in a well-worn pair of bluejean underwear, made an appointment for me and guaranteed Jeff would be there.

On August 26th I went back, told the guy at the desk I had an appointment, and 3 people came in and got horses in the hour we waited there. The third was quite an interesting character who obviously had some serious issues. She wanted to somehow replace the horse her ex had given her and she said it was going to take an hour. I asked Jeff, the equine specialist, how long the third would take and he got petulant with me and told me I had time to go eat. By this point I wanted to throw in the towel. It just wasn't meant for me to have a horse. I wanted to leave the place and never go back. After a few moments of unabashed rage in the parking lot, Jodi convinced me that we should come back after we ate. I was in no rush, Jeff could wait on me now. So we also went to Home Depot for more paint (I think they put the dumbest employees at the paint counter. I've gone there for paint three times in the past three months and have been treated like an idiot, ignored, and saw the paint guy waste four cans of paint because he didn't put it in the right place under the magic color machine.)

Jeff called me while we were in Home Depot dealing with the paint-splattered charlatans and started apologizing profusely. Said he didn’t know I was an appointment. Said to come back. So I went back (4th time, technically). He didn’t have on record that I had paid that little trick in bluejean underwear for my horse. After explaining about a million different ways that I had been there before, had seen the guy at the front desk during the WWF freakout visit, had paid, had waited 20 minutes (why else would he have my number if I hadn't been there before?), he offered me $20 back and told me to sit down. That little scheister with the blujean underwear had pocketed my money! So the money to pay for my horse was garnished from her last paycheck (he had fired her the week before).

I left only slightly more colorful than I went in . . . and I haven't regretted the horse at all, but right now I don't want to get another. I'm content with the perpetual challenge of hiding this one from my mother.

This may or may not be a picture of what my perfect horse would have looked like. While mine didn't turn out quite perfect, neither are my memories of China. Yet they will forever remain close to my heart. Th-th-that that don't kill me (oh) can only make me stronger . . . -Kanye West

Soiled Doves

2008-10-03T15:54:00.000-07:00

I decided to finally finish this one that I started a month ago . . .

No wonder all those people got liquored up and trashed the town and each other every night. Dodge City is in the middle of nowhere. The barren landscape alone was enough to make me understand why the west was so wild.

This is what I learned during my visit to Dodge City:

Dodge City is in Ford County.

Only one woman is buried on Boot Hill:

Alice Chambers died of "natural causes," had few friends, and possessed little or no money. She was the last person to be laid to rest on Boot Hill (May 5, 1879) and was the owner of an unsuccessful dance hall and saloon. A full-fledged member of a group referred to as "soiled doves," Alice was a favorite of many. Her last words were, "Circumstances led me to this end."

A number of questions come to mind:

If she was a favorite of many, why did she have few friends?

If the answer to that question is what I think it is, why did she die broke and why was her saloon so unsuccessful?

OK. I started out writing this as a humorous story. When I took the photo I thought it was impressive that she was the only woman buried amidst a bunch of shady characters who mostly ended up being in the wrong place at the wrong time or pissing off the wrong people, namely the Dodge City "Vigilance Committee" (does your church have one of those?). And being a member of the Soiled Doves . . . how glamorously scandalous does that sound? The Dirty Dozen, the MeeMaws, and WNDC all would have paled in comparison.

Now I just wonder what circumstances led her to the circumstances that led to her untimely demise? We don't know the situation she may have found herself in that prompted her to pick up a career in entertainment. Deceased husband, negligent parents, poor choices . . . My guess is she made poor decisions regarding the finances of her could-be lucrative career, poor decisions about her lifestyle choice, poor decisions about the kind of folks she hung out with . . . decisions that, if placed in the same time and in the same situation, we might have made in order to survive.

In the long run, we shape our lives, and we shape ourselves. The process never ends until we die. And the choices we make are ultimately our own responsibility. -Eleanor Roosevelt

Let anyone who among you who is without sin be the first to cast a stone. -Jesus

Take it ALL off!

2008-09-18T08:42:00.000-07:00

This was an email from the well-meaning honor council president:

. . . Also honor council members will be enforcing these dress code guidelines and anyone caught in violation will be written up immediately. Students with multiple offenses ( meaning more than one) will be referred to the appropriate authority, so consider this your first warning. To always be on the safe side, print this out and post it on your mirror, so you won't have any doubts. *When in doubt go without*

Me reflecting in the mirror this morning: Hmmm . . . this skirt looks way too short. I think I'll just "go without."

And that's how I got to work without any clothes this morning.

Hello, my name is Susie and I am a . . .

2008-09-16T15:07:00.000-07:00

As an employee of Student Life, I'm lucky enough to get all the student emails. Most just want to hawk their books or find a ride to the doctor to get their spider bites checked out. But I really enjoy the random one that seems to slip from the students' fingers without thought. Just when I needed a good laugh, this one came along:

Hello ladies, if anyone is interested in attending the sexual addiction workshop in Birmingham Friday let me know! I would love to carpool or go as a group. My phone number is 251-. . . , or reply by email.

A group? I'm sure if there are enough interested we could start our own here on campus. I knew the weekly Whorship services went a bit too far.

I think this is a trip that the psychology class is taking. She could have just announced this in class or just sent it to the 4 or 5 people who are in her class . . . but then I wouldn't have shed tears of laughter reading it or been able to share it with you.

TOUCHDOWN!

2008-08-30T13:46:00.000-07:00

Can I just tell you how excited I am that football season is here!?!? It snuck right up and clipped me from behind. I've been toning up this summer:

I could watch the foozball all day long.

R-U-N-N-O-F-T!

2008-08-21T14:21:00.000-07:00

My dad's in a runoff against a fella with whom I went to high school. He's not even from Eva, so we're confident there won't be much trouble winning this time around. Another of his opponents had been pulling up my dad's campaign signs and replacing them with his own. Considering my dad only had five signs, all in my relatives' yards, that's pretty low down. Why would you do that to someone to whom you're distantly related and who is also 68, diabetic, and blind?

The above picture was taken in Fort Scott, Kansas. At this point in my life, the pictures and stories I have from Kansas aren't so entertaining. So, I've decided to post some randomly along with the stories I remember to be funny. No story to go with the picture above, but isn't it worth $1000?

oops i did it again

2008-08-17T20:19:00.000-07:00

Sorry to quote Brittney . . . but it fit. I got another bouquet. This one fell in front of the row of chairs I was standing behind. I let it fall and then someone picked it up and handed it to me. I'm pretty sure the bride was aiming for me. I was the oldest person in the crowd, so it was a pity toss. Good thing I'm catching all these bouquets though. I'm getting married Hockey Day. Everything's already planned . . . down to the hockey stick arch and bridesmaids kilts. I've also been praying for the past year that it doesn't rain.

Speaking of kilts, I heard on NPR that a postal worker in Washington was lobbying the USPS convention to add "unbifurcated male garments" to the USPS list of standard uniform garments (his motion was defeated and now he's lobbying postal workers across the US for support). That got me to thinking about what kind of man would wear unbifurcated garments. On the one hand, there's Boy George. On the other there's William Wallace, who beat back the British army in a skirt, but look where that got him. Still, he was manly enough to pull off the skirt (figuratively). At any rate, I think I could go for a man who wasn't afraid to wear a skirt. Especially if he has nice legs.

Speaking of NPR, I also heard about a 74-year-old Chinese man who, when he heard in 2001 that Beijing (pronounced Bey-jing [hard J], not Bay-jzhing) had won the bid for the Olympics, started teaching himself English. He's been working on hand-made maps of all the venues to hand out to tourists and planned to just stand out on the street to help people. I teared up a little.

Speaking of pronunciation, I think it's great that Al Roker wants to teach America how to say thank you or GO! or umbrella in Chinese, but he could at least consult a Chinese person for the correct pronunciation before he does so. Better yet, he could get a Chinese person on TV to say the words. He's really butchering the language, people. I admit, it is a complicated language, with all the tones and such. But anything worth learning is worth learning right.

Speaking of learning, the freshmen moved in today. We'll see soon how that pans out.

Still planning on the Kansas post . . . doesn't seem worth it now. But I know you all want to know how my dad busted out of the clink on Boot Hill and drank sarsaparilla at the Longbranch Saloon with Matt Dillon and Ms. Kitty while wearing his blue jumpsuit. And I've also got a good story about going to see a man about a horse.

Blood, Sweat, & Tears

2008-08-05T09:42:00.000-07:00

With special emphasis on the sweat. Though I also have a papercut . . . and you'll hear more of the tears later.

As I type this, I sit in my office, forearms stuck to the top of my desk, sweat dripping down . . . well, it's dripping everywhere. It's 88 sticky, stagnate degrees. Our air is out AGAIN. There have actually been more days this summer without air than with. Mind you, I'm not whining, or complaining, just informing.

RA training starts Sunday and we're supposed to be moving to Elmcrest sometime before then so renovations can begin in JANUARY! So, my stories from Kansas will have to wait until things calm down . . .

Until then, occupy yourself with this: In the Name of Love

A friend of mine told me about this CD, so, being a huge fan of U2, I rushed right out and bought it. But first I listened to samples from it on those nifty headsets at Barnes & Noble. I quickly shuffled to my favorite song: Pride (In the Name of Love). I wept right in the middle of the Pop/Rock section. I had a spiritual moment in the middle of the music section at Barnes & Noble. Then I started laughing at myself for crying. The last song on the CD is hilarious because of the guy's weird falsetto . . . it's very mockable . . . but the rest is amazing.

Strange Days

2008-07-21T11:42:00.000-07:00

Picture it. Marion. 2008. You're sitting in a cafe with three friends, calmly sipping your sticky-sweet tea. You know, the kind that coats your gullet on the way down and is probably the leading cause of adult sugar-betes in 12-year-olds in the rural South. Nothing unusual about the day, really, except that a restaurant in Marion besides J&R's is moderately full of people. You've ordered the catfish sandwich, because it's a better deal really than the catfish plate--two catfish filets with toast, tomatoes, and lettuce and a side (mac & cheese is your favorite) for $5.95. You like to drench it in hot sauce, something you use on everything but your Cheerios. You notice on the big-screen TV in the corner of the dance floor (yes, the dance floor) that Brett Favre is on Fox news announcing that he may return to the NFL. You wish he would just retire for real already, move back to Mississippi, and call you up to wash his socks. You also notice the fella sitting near the dance floor with no food or drink, just a wacky smile. Moments later, this normal scene goes awry. Not only do the Packers not want Favre back, but the strange fella with the wacky smile has stood up and started chanting . . . E-S-S-E-X! But you miss the first two letters. Not to worry, he chants it again . . . E-S-S-E-X! What? E-S-S-E-X! E-S-S-E-X! Your friends stare at the table beneath them hoping it will save them from this mad man. You grin at the situation and try not to let your inner guffaw escape . . . it might draw Mr. E-S-S-E-X! to your table. He might try to E-S-S-E-X! you up right in the middle of your catfish sandwich. Then, just as quickly as it started, it's over. All the people chatting over their club sandwiches and fried chicken glance furtively around at the other tables, trying not to let their amusement or fear be known. After all, someone in there might be related to him. Real stories. Real people. Real funny.

I also spent some time in the Tuscaloosa branch of the Alabama Thrift Store this weekend while waiting to go to see The Dark Night (I highly recommend it). I ran across these gems perched atop the shelves at the end of the shoe section.

Tempted as I was, I didn't buy them.

Tomorrow I head West! I'm driving my parents to Kansas for my mom's sister's 65th wedding anniversary. Should be a blast. Hopefully, I'll come back with a camera full of strange pictures and videos to share. Remember me in your bedtime prayers. As excited as I am about touring Dodge City and maybe running into Matt Dillon at Boot Hill (from Gunsmoke, for you city slickers), I'm not excited about the drive out there.

See you next Tuesday, Lord willing and the creek don't rise.

Well, I'll tell you something, this is no longer a vacation . . . it's a quest! It's a quest for fun! I'm gonna have fun, and you're gonna have fun! We're all gonna have so much ... fun we'll need plastic surgery to remove our ... smiles! --Clark W. Griswold

My Jumpsuited Gene Pool

2008-07-10T11:18:00.000-07:00

I trekked back to the village of my youth once more to celebrate our nation's independence. Every trip back provides ample opportunity to glean pearls of wisdom only found in that corner of the globe.

Pearl 1: The criterion for determining whether or not a pair of glasses is prescription or cosmetic rests solely on whether or not they have "nose thingies." -Callie, age 7
Pearl 2: A wet paper towel makes a handy replacement for a dustpan if you only have one arm with which to sweep the floor. -Charlotte, my one-armed 3rd grade teacher (she can still feel her fingers after 40 years without them!)
Pearl 3: I may have one of the funniest gene pools in North Alabama, maybe even . . . dare I say, the world. -me

I also found out my dad is running for Eva city council. There are about 250 eligible voters so he's taking the time to contact each one of them. He'll be up against at least 2 others, but he's confident that he'll win without a runoff. I think he may be the only one with a campaign manager--a volunteer, of course. Once you take even a penny for your campaign the hounds of beurocratic hell are unleashed upon you.

And hoping this isn't leaked to the aforementioned 250 voters, I share this story: Mindful of the long weekend without access to a gym, I took along my exercise ball to get in some crunches after hitting Eva's walking trail. My dad was immediately fascinated by it. "How in the world do you stay on the thing? Won't it roll out from under you?" And my favorite: "How much weight can it take?" I wouldn't let him on it the first few days. After all, he is still recovering from a bruised sternum from an incident involving a garden tiller. Sunday morning I conceded. And this is what transpired (pardon my emphysema laugh):

After all this, he insisted on buying it from me and my mom said he spent the entire afternoon rolling around on it. [Did you notice the strange animals in the top left corner? My folks are obsessed with stuffed animals that move and have music.]

They say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree . . . or is it the nut?

out of kilter

2008-07-02T14:09:00.000-07:00

I have a new post, but I started it so long ago that it's out of order. So scroll down for some thoughts on movies.

insert the song from "Deliverance" here

2008-06-19T14:59:00.000-07:00

OK. Eva isn't that bad, but it does seem that every time I talk to my mom (every day) that something strange has happened there (murder-for-hire, moonshine stills, abnormally large produce-for a population of 550, that's some wacked-up mess). And every time I go home something crazy happens to me. This past weekend was no exception.

After helping grill hotdogs for VBS Saturday, I went with my dad and uncle Gibby to pick some plums. Now, VBS was a story in itself--there were 3 terrible kids there who belong to my first suitemate at Judson, who left because she thought she was pregnant by her roommate's boyfriend (I was afraid to sit on the toilet seat the whole first semester). While I was cooking the hotdogs, my dad made a comment about the way I dress. He implied that I was too casual, but he used some kind of country terminology that I really wish I would have written down (another quote from the day was, "It rained like a cow pissing on a flat rock"). I quickly snapped that his wardrobe consisted of blue jumpsuits and a ratty hat. He retorted, "I'll have you know that this hat has gotten me in the news twice lately." He has been pictured in the Decatur Daily commenting about the new soccer field at the elementary school and interviewed on WAFF-48 news about the new sidewalk from the school to the 4-way all within the past month. Watch the video. It's hilarious. You can't miss my dad . . . he's the one in the blue jumpsuit and ratty hat. He said something about the sidewalk being environmentally friendly, too, but they left that out. You'll also see our version of Paris Hilton and a reporter wearing blue flip-flops (I thought they had to dress up).

Anyway . . . my dad likes to go up to the store at the 4-way and shoot the bull with all the old men in town and one of them had told him to come over and get all the plums he wanted. His house was farther away than the sidewalk goes, so my uncle drove us over. The folks weren't home, so we walked around their house looking for the plum trees. After we found them, my uncle told me to go around back and get the 6-foot ladder out of the shed so he could pick from the top. So, even though I felt strange pilfering through someone else's shed, I went down and found the ladder. After watching some sort of critter scuttle across the floor, I picked up the ladder. Immediately, a wasp flew from its home beneath a rung and straight at my nose. I believe wholeheartedly that it was aiming to put my eye out, but luckily I had on sunglasses. Strangely enough, it didn't hurt as much as plucking my eybrows, but it swelled up something awful. I went back to the plum tree ladder-free and told them what had happened. While I waited on the ice pack and Benadryl from my mom, I picked and ate about 20 delicious plums from the lower branches. They went on to pick a 5-gallon bucket full without a ladder. I went home and passed out from all the Benadryl with an ice pack stuck to my forehead. And I bear no scars today.

"Given the choice between the experience of pain and nothing, I would choose pain." -William Faulkner

the long-awaited movie list

2008-06-16T18:20:00.000-07:00

At lunch with Abby, Bart and Michelle on my trip to Chattanooga well over a month ago, Bart challenged me to name my top five movies . . . a question I've since been pondering, and will probably continue to ponder the rest of my days the way some ponder the meaning of life (ponder is a funny word). Since I have faith and a wandering spirit to answer the latter, my time must be spent in pursuit of those ever-changing, ever-elusive top five.

While I'll watch just about any movie and find something to enjoy about it (although the comedy genre has really gone downhill in the last decade), I'll concede I have favorites. But those favorites go on and on--from Fried Green Tomatoes to Chocolat, The Power of One, American Beauty, Amelie, Water, Braveheart, Almost Famous, Garden State, The Inn of the Sixth Happiness, Forrest Gump, The Shawshank Redemption, My Sassy Girl, Stranger Than Fiction, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, Tommy Boy, The Motorcycle Diaries, Shrek, Crash, Hotel Rwanda, Iron Jawed Angels, Napoleon Dynamite, Bobby, V for Vendetta, and Dead Poet's Society. These are pretty much my top 25 . . . the 25 I got by perusing the Susie Gallery DVD collection. This, of course, doesn't count the good ones I've seen in theaters recently or just haven't bought yet or haven't seen at all.

These top five are supposed to be determined by the way I felt right after I watched them. Ironically, I tend to feel really good about the ones that have some sort of significant or tragic endings. After all, a good cry is quite cathartic, especially for someone who tends to suppress all forms of extreme emotion. Think about it . . . have you ever seen me really sad, or really excited, or really anything besides really mad? So, without further ado, here they are (in no particular [besides alphabetical] order) for now . . .

Amelie

Crash

The Shawshank Redemption

Stranger Than Fiction

Water

This matter is open for discussion and I'd definitely appreciate your recommendations.

"Vote early. Vote often."

2008-06-06T21:23:00.000-07:00

"The people who cast the votes don't decide an election, the people who count the votes do."

Al Capone often used the first quote, though it's attributed to an infamously corrupt mayor of Chicago. And Joseph Stalin, the Soviet leader responsible for millions of deaths during his regime, said the second.

The saga continues for Perry County. Hopefully, our crooks and despots won't be deified or legendized as much as the people have been who said the words by which they seem to live. But for now they are making news.

The probate judge, who is mentioned in the linked article, has recently become a nemesis of mine. I was trying to get a document certified for a friend who isn't in the states. I followed the Secretary of State's "Three Easy Steps" for getting a document certified. Eldora was the second step. The "easy" steps turn out to be not-so-easy when Step 2 doesn't know how to do her job. She actually had no idea what I was talking about. To make matters worse, she laughed at me. So, like any non-confrontational person with a penchant for flying into fits of rage, I tried to skip Step 2. When I walked into her office with my documents and a story about small-town ignorance, Step 3 (The Secretary of State) said I'd have to go back to Step 2. After complaining to Step 3's office assistant that the "Three Easy Steps" weren't so easy when an elected official, who I'm pretty sure I voted for, doesn't know her responsibilities, I left, armed with Step 3's business card and a print-out of the "Three Easy Steps" to show Step 2. When I walked back into Step 2's office, she was in a meeting. So I called. And I called. And I called. And I saved their number in my phone under @$$holes. I was determined to annoy them somehow. When I finally got in to see her she had the audacity to laugh again. I had arranged in my head what all I was going to tell her . . . that she could look up how to do her job on the internet. Or, that she is a public servant and I'm the public; so serve me! Or, why would you laugh at me when YOU'RE the one who doesn't know how to do her job?!? But I didn't. I handed over my cell phone with the Secretary of State's office on the other end. And after a short conversation she gave me what I came for: a piece of paper with her stinkin' signature on it. I have had better service in communist countries. You've gotta love a system that gives you anything you need as long as you know someone or know someone who knows someone or have the right amount of cash.

She's obviously having bigger troubles now. No wonder she was avoiding contact with the Secretary of State.

"The truest characters of ignorance are vanity, pride, and annoyance." --Samuel Butler
"All you need in this life is ignorance and confidence, and then success is sure." --Mark Twain

much too young to feel this dang old

2008-06-04T15:37:00.001-07:00

Well, I'm not that young. But I'm feeling really old right now. I actually smell like my great uncle Alvin, who used to spread the Bengay on thick when his brother-in-law Cink was on his way over. Cink hated the smell of the stuff so he wouldn't stay longer than it took him to ask Alvin to borrow the tractor.

I've been helping Kristin with VBS this week. We have pre-K . . . 11 of them . . . so I feel like I've been trying to wrangle cats. Actually, I think I'd rather try wrangling cats. At least they're quieter than a 4-year-old. We've got two who make half the class act like sociopaths. Today, while I was trying to pick up the lightest of the non-sociopaths, I pulled something in my lower back. So I've slathered on the Icy Hot . . . the icy part has worked, but so far the hot has failed to relax the pain away . . . and I'm almost to my limit on the ibuprofen.

It's not a very convenient time for me to throw my back out. Laura has a baby on the way and I've still got two days left of VBS and tomorrow we're supposed to play the faculty/staff vs. student softball game. And I haven't quite finished the artwork that will hopefully soon make me quasi-famous. I'll post pictures when I'm done.

Last week, I was at Leading Edge, a conference for collegiate women in Alabama that teaches them about themselves, the state, and how they can make a difference in the state. This was my fourth time as an advisor, and I love it more each year. We learn what a crappy government we have and then they train the students how to best plan a coup. Speaking of which, for those of you who follow Perry County politics, Jr. won, but all of his cronies didn't. The Justice Department showed up for the circus and we made the news. Albert Turner, Jr. is the "politician" JD poll watchers saw in the building all day. If you've ever voted here, you've seen him too. He's the one "helping" the elderly with their votes and pointing out who to vote for on everyone else's ballot. The morning news out of Montgomery said that "someone" paid a voter $40 for their vote. My guess is that's him, too. If you've ever been harassed while voting in Perry County, we'd like to know. They're actually trying to do something about it now.

Before that, I was in Chattanooga for my friend Ashley's wedding. Thanks to Michelle for letting me crash in her Southern Living-worthy home! We had lunch with Abby, Bart, and Cecilia and I got to see Steph and Elizabeth at the wedding.

So, between all the cratchety complaining about politics and this cursed heat, the wafting aroma of menthol, and the fact that I haven't had a good night's sleep in about 2 weeks, I'm feeling old. There was a guy in China who used to tell me I was "fully wigger" . . . full off vigor. I'm longing for those days. Maybe by my next post I'll be young again.

Almost Famous

2008-05-08T15:29:00.000-07:00

But not quite yet. I hesitate to tell this tale for fear it might not come to fruition (mmm. that word makes me want some strawberries) . . . so I'll knock on wood and throw some salt over my left shoulder (or is it the right?) and pray really hard that it does.

I was sitting in Lottie's (Marion's fine dining) at a lunch meeting last Friday when my phone rang. I don't usually answer the phone at the table because I think it's rude, but this time I did, for what reason I'm not quite sure. I didn't recognize the number, so I thought it might be a student calling about checking out of their room since it was the end of the semester. It was my friend Suzanah, who said, "Don't get mad, Susie. I'm in Monroeville and I'm seeing the play without you." We had each made a promise to not see To Kill a Mockingbird in Monroeville without the other when we were in China together. I didn't have time to be fly into my usual raging fury, because the next thing she was telling me was that she was with Kate Campbell (the funniest serious southern singer-songwriter ever), who wanted to commission me to do the cover art for her new CD. I was speechless. Suzanah had told Kate about my prints (I've taken two of Ted's printmaking classes during short term and discovered that I really love it, while most art majors hate it), and somehow convinced her that I should be considered for the cover.

I now have the title song, Save the Day, so I can be inspired. That shouldn't be too hard since my specialty is saving the day. But I'm still speechless. I get a little queasy whenever I think about it. What if whatever I do isn't so great? What if it's terrible? What if next fall I can walk into a Barnes & Noble and see the CD with the cover that I did available in the music section?

In that case, I'll send you all copies.

100 Things About Me

2008-04-28T18:54:00.000-07:00

Because I need to download pictures and do a little research for my next planned post before I write it, I've decided to take Mandy's challenge to write 100 things about myself.

1. I was born with only one functional kidney.
2. Despite several surgeries and infections throughout my childhood and doctors who said I would always be sickly, I had a fairly normal childhood.
3. I was among the first girls to play basketball at my elementary school, even though the coach refused to coach if I played.
4. I ended up starting center . Yeah. I was a balla.
5. I also played softball until I was in high school.
6. I never tried out for high school sports because I was afraid I wouldn't make it.
7. I broke a toe and got second degree burns on my shoulders at Point Mallard water park in Decatur one summer of my childhood.
8. In 5th grade I beat up a boy for calling me a sissy. When I told the teacher, she said he probably deserved it.
9. I played the drums in the school band.
10. I had braces, glasses, and a mullet in high school.
11. The mullet rears its ugly head throughout many of my yearbooks.
12. I skipped both my proms.
13. Instead of going to my Jr. prom I went fishing.
14. Instead of going to my Sr. prom I visited Judson on J-Day.
15. I had also visted on Hockey Day--it was way cold and there was standing water all over the hockey field.
16. I didn't apply to any other colleges besides Judson.
17. I became Super Susie during my first week of life at Judson.
18. I got my first cape not long after.
19. I celebrated my "super hero birthday" every year until I graduated. My first cape was blue (wrong color) and I had to eventually make my own to get it right.
20. I was supposed to major in Environmental Science.
21. I dropped freshman chemistry second semester to start playing golf.
22. Motivated by horrible grades, I changed my major to English after my freshman year.
23. I almost died while camping my freshman year atop the second highest point in Alabama during a thunderstorm.
24. My mom almost killed me when I got back because I didn't tell her I was going.
25. She also stabbed me in the foot with a fork when I was 15. It was a purposeful accident. She meant to throw the fork, but she didn't mean for it to stick in my foot.
26. During that first summer home I got a job in a spool factory. I only went one day.
27. I spent the rest of the summer painting houses with my uncle.
28. I've also worked with another uncle roofing houses.
29. I was a waitress for one day, too. My temperament doesn't really allow me to conceed that the customer is always right.
30. I leaked Pageant secrets and got demoted from a role with lines to one without.
31. I was a darn fine "Goody" anyway.
32. I'm gonna live forever. FAME!
33. I played catcher on the Judson softball team for two years.
34. We probably didn't win over 6 games over those years, but it was way fun.
35. I tore my ACL during the last game of my Jr/Soph year during a run-down between 2nd and 3rd.
36. I went to Singapore that summer to play with the missionary kiddies there.
37. I got off the plane with a fake nose ring and my mom almost fainted. I didn't even get to tell her it was a cultural thing before I took it out.
38. During my third year my good friend Laura and I called 1-800 numbers on the back of products to get weird stuff sent to our friends.
39. I also learned from the tampax people that using tampons doesn't rob you of your virginity.
40. That summer I spent 10 weeks in Colorado at Oh Be Joyful Church in Crested Butte.
41. I think that's pretty much the best name for a church in the weirdest name for a town in the whole US.
42. On the way to Colorado, we visited my mecca: Metropolis, IL.
43. I saw the Daily Planet & had my picture taken with my cape on in front of a giant Superman statue.
44. I saw snow in June in Colorado.
45. I don't remember much of my senior year.
46. I was J-Day Queen.
47. I would much rather have been Hockey Day Queen.
48. Once, I left a conspicuously large piece of underclothing atop the dome.
49. I had the ability to unlock prety much any locked door on campus.
50. Graduating freaked me out.
51. I got a job as a youth minister right after graduating.
52. Then I returned to Judson to be the RD in Barron.
53. I was RD to the first ever winner of the Ultimate Coyote Ugly girl, Cassie Miller (we also went to the same high school).
54. I was no Mama Nall. I got reprimanded once for allowing balloons to be dropped from the balcony above the front door of Barron (and sometimes participating).
55. Before the year was over I had taken a job at WMU in Birmingham.
56. I believe copy editing to be the worst job in the whole world.
57. However, I am thankful that that job opened the door for me to go to China.
58. While working at WMU I was also contributing time and talent to Global Women, the perceived rival of WMU. Secret agent woman!
59. I first went to China with Global Women just after Christmas during the year I worked at WMU.
60. We visited Lottie Moon's house. Way cool. I saw where she slept.
61. I ate some weird stuff like black fungus, sea cucumbers, and octopus.
62. I liked it so much that I decided to apply to teach for two years.
63. While spending that summer partying with the real Greeks in Vermont, I
64. visited the Ben & Jerry's factory,
65. flirted with a Frenchman,
66. went to New York,
67. went to Boston,
68. and saw the Cheers bar, and
69. learned how to teach English as a Second Language.
70. I moved to China to teach English and had some crazy experiences like
72. riding on a train for 36 hours when I thought I was only going to be on for 8,
73. being proposed to 3 times by drunken Chinese men,
74. eating some crazy stuff like sheep brain, barbequed mouse, camel hump, fried scorpion,
75. participating in 3 Chinese weddings,
76. being on Chinese MTV,
77. meeting a Chinese pop-star,
78. climbing the most sacred mountain in China at midnight to watch the sunrise,
79. spending the night in a bamboo hut,
80. spending the night in Chinese dormitories (no heat, no hot water, no mattress, 8 other people)
81. taking part in a Chinese acrobat performance,
82. singing lots of karaoke,
83. eating a lot of free meals because I was the foreigner,
84. receiving a letter from the local Public Security Bureau because I visited a tourist attraction near an army base (why put a top secret location near a tourist attraction??), and
85. falling off the Great Wall and living to tell about it.
86. I also learned I love peanut butter & noodles together.
87. And to love traveling alone.
88. I have now sold my soul to the Mother.
89. On the positive side, I now can play field hockey whenever I want.
90. I also have the keys to several of those locks I used to pick.
91. My favorite color is red.
92. My political beliefs fall far to the left of most everyone I know.
93. I wish I could have been a hippie.
94. I love history.
95. And the Discovery Channel . . . you and me baby ain't nothin' but mammals . . . especially Man vs. Wild, Cash Cab, MythBusters, and Deadliest Catch.
96. I own several hundred movies.
97. I met Bo Duke (John Schneider) in 1988.
98. I have a recurring dream about being best pals with Julia Roberts.
99. I believe I must have numbered wrong because the last 10 of these have been the hardest to write.
100. I feel that 100 things about yourself is a bit excessive.

thank my lucky flowers!

2008-04-21T17:43:00.000-07:00

Don't you just love weddings? I know I don't. I realize they're important to a great many people; I can appreciate that. I'm not saying they shouldn't happen at all. I mean, I really like the way Chinese people get married. And Lutherans--especially Yankee Lutherans. We should all take lessons from the Chinese and the Lutherans. Both include large quantities of food and libation in their weddings.

I went to a wedding this past weekend. As far as weddings are concerned, it was nice. I couldn't tell you much beyond that. I don't remember what color the flowers were, what the bridesmaids wore, or what style the dress was (though I understand it was a bit difficult to get on & off). Details bore me. I went. They wed. We ate.

But I do remember taking part in a certain ritual common to many weddings in the western hemisphere: the flinging of the bouquet. I don't take much stock in those sort of things; it's just one of those things you have to do. The bouquet was flung. My hand went up in self-defense. And the cursed bunch of flowers landed, as if guided by the forces of Eros or Hades, right in my hands.

A bit of history: This tradition began when herbs were placed inside the bouquet for good luck. Hoping to pass on her good fortune, the bride would pass on her lucky bouquet to a lucky guest at the end of the ceremony.

If these so-called good luck "herbs" were present in the bouquet I caught, all would have ended well. Unfortunately, those kind of herbs are illegal in the state of Alabama. All I caught was a dance with the garter guy--perhaps the most awkward dance with the most awkward garter guy that has ever existed in the history of inane wedding rituals. So I did what any self-respecting woman could do in that situation: the robot. And he just stood there. Eventually, they made us actually hold hands and dance, but that was far more awkward than the robot.

So, here's what happened (a big THANK YOU to Mandy for the photo):

If you get your face right up next to the screen and shake your head slowly from side to side for about 30 seconds you can pretty much see the whole dance replayed right in front of you.

At least I got a splendid bunch of silk flowers in the deal.

JUDSON ON LENO, part deux

2008-04-16T14:40:00.000-07:00

So here's what was on the Headlines portion of Monday night's show:

You can use the link below and go to Monday night's episode. It's in the second segment toward the end.

A big THANKS to Michelle Chappelle for giving me the heads up!

JUDSON ON JAY LENO

2008-04-15T21:14:00.000-07:00

We've finally made the big time, ladies. Skip to the headlines and it's about half way through.

http://www.nbc.com/The_Tonight_Show_with_Jay_Leno/video/episodes.shtml

Computer Man George & Leah got their names in lights! Not for the most virtuous of reasons, mind you.

Crackdown: the Man vs. the Mother

2008-04-11T15:06:00.000-07:00

Show of hands: how many of you have been to the roof of a building on campus?

OK, how many of you have fallen off? I dare say that nobody in the history of Judson has fallen from a roof . . . at least not accidentally.

My sisters, a dear, dear tradition, fondly remembered by many a Judson woman, is in danger of becoming extinct. It seems that someone (Mr. Scrooge McMoneybags), who shall remain nameless, overheard alumnae and current students refecting upon their rooftop excursions. Nevermind that all parties involved had survived to tell about it. Fresh padlocks have been purchased, doors have been locked, and pretty soon windows might even be barred.

I've volunteered to spend every night perched atop WMU just making sure nobody else climbs up there. After all, we don't want anyone to damage the roof.

Did this blog sound anything like Mrs. Williams' column Martha's Vineyard? She's my inspiration. A good time was had by all.

Jamaican me crazy.

2008-04-09T21:40:00.000-07:00

Something I learned today: it is illegal to ship alcohol in the state of Alabama. And the USPS bans it altogether. Yet another reason why my parents never subscribed to the wine of the month club. Don't ask me why I found this out. I can only say that there's a huge breach in National Security if an illegal shipment of rum can find its way to Marion through none other than the USPS. Avast! I must be off. I hear the ATF agents getting ready to ram the door.

Yo-ho-ho & a bottle of rum . . .

2008-04-07T15:21:00.000-07:00

So I've had this awesome name for a blog for about a year now. I've decided to finally use it. I don't have any cute kids to post about, but I do have a couple hundred college kids who do say the darndest things. AND I live in the rural south where fantastical happenings occur every day. This can also serve as an update for all you Judson women who might be wondering what's going on with the Mother.