Things I Just Don't Get.

What was (person) thinking? It's a question I find that I ask myself far too often these days. And today is no exception. I have a whole list of Things I Just Don't Get.

• There's a story in our local news about someone from my hometown arrested for sexual battery against a minor (under age 11, at that). I want to know -- what in hell makes an adult believe that being sexual with a child is okay? I mean, truly..... it's a bizarre mental twist that I will never ever understand. I know that in some cases, they cannot comprehend that they are harming a child. There are some who do and just don't give a damn, and there's a special level of hell reserved just for them. But what makes an otherwise normal person (we assume, anyway) think that it's okay to take a little 11-year-old girl to a motel room? My heart breaks for victims of sexual abuse or violence. I occasionally catch an episode of Dateline: To Catch a Predator, and I find myself wanting to go through the screen and bitchslap these people.

• Animal cruelty is another thing I just don't get. Even before I was a pet owner, I just couldn't comprehend how someone could neglect an animal or deliberately mistreat it. Most nights at 10, I faithfully watch Animal Planet because they show a variety of "Animal Cops" from different cities -- New York, Houston, Miami, Philly, Detroit, even one from South Africa. I was speaking one day with a person from the ASPCA (they called me for a fundraising campaign), and I mentioned that I watch it all the time. He said, "WOW! You have a pretty strong constitution!" I replied, "It doesn't turn my stomach as much as break my heart and make me angry." (Of course, I signed up for this fundraising program - what did you think?) I don't get it at all --- pets are completely dependent upon us and ask for nothing but our love and care. It's hardly enough to pay back everything they give us -- love and affection, sweet kissies, a walking partner, laughter and tears, so many good things.
  
• I also don't get the appeal of a lot of modern music. But that's a whole blog to itself.
  

Signed,
Grumpy Old Lady

A tale of two Wallys

There are two Wallys within about 10 miles of my domicile.

One is pure hell on earth. When it was constructed, it was a huge Wally. Today, it's a SmallMart. It is the place where scientists should converge to study the vast genetic mutation that occurs in mothers and children who pass through the doors. Something in the metal framing, or the glass itself (who knows), causes children to lose their minds and their common sense, and causes mothers to yell something about beating them senseless. This phenomenon isn't limited simply to this particular Wally. God knows I've seen it happen in many others. I used to shop regularly at this Wally, but I have decided the only way I will shop there now is if I happen to be driving by at 3:00 AM, with a wound so severe that Wally is the only place I can buy a dressing for it. Or I am in dire need of auto parts at that hour. Otherwise, I avoid it like the plague.

The other is one of the nicer Wallys ever. It's in a small town, but it's a nice SuperCenter. The aisles are mostly spacious. It doesn't seem to be as crowded. I can't vouch for the genetic mutation factor either -- never seen it happen. It's in proximity to two college towns and is usually home to students, faculty and the general public (where the other .... well .... isn't). That might be a factor in the decided lack of WT population there, at least as a percentage.

Any surprise why I love the 2nd Wally more?

Don't get me (BOOM) started.

It's been one of those weeks when I have been itching for a fight. I don't know why. Some sort of brain-chemical thing either on overload or not enough ...... but I think I have a good reason.

Fireworks.

I'm not opposed to fireworks in general. On the contrary, I love a big display of them -- done by professionals. There's something about the technique and precision of a good pyro display that's almost as cool as the display itself. I haven't seen it in person, but I have seen tape of a Labor Day fireworks show on the Ohio River in Cincinnati which was completely phenomenal -- set to music and done SO well, it was mind-boggling.

What makes me less-than-happy is the fireworks done by amateurs in their front yards, just for the annoyance of everyone around. And even those aren't so bad all the time. The problem for us this year in particular is this: we're in an extreme drought!!!!!!!!!

Our county was one of five in the entire state recently bumped up to the worst status possible. Five counties, all in a row, all the furthest inland, and all with man-made lakes which are way below full capacity. The local newspaper has had a week-long series about the drought, the water issues with it, etc. There are two major problems that people discuss here: gas prices and the lack of rain. What little rain we've gotten has been just enough to settle the dust, enough to make the windshield wet but that's it. I doubt the last two sudden showers/drizzles we've had measured a total of one-tenth of an inch. This is truly trouble.

Why, why, why the city didn't come out with a quickie ordinance saying, "Listen, this year, no fireworks. We know you'll understand" --- well, I don't know why. It certainly would have made sense. And it hits fairly close to home.... there's an unoccupied house next to ours. While the structure itself is cinder block, the roof isn't. The front and back yards aren't. All it would take would be one errant firework, and.....WOOOSH!!!! Same goes for a huge open field that abuts the entire block. It's a big gulley with nothing but vegetation -- most of it desperately dry. Again, all it would take is one bottle rocket to go off-course.......

I'm not even going to discuss what it must have been like for the dogs in the neighborhood. Suffice to say we gave Maddox a couple of calming tablets and he STILL didn't go to sleep until after midnight, when they mercifully decided to pack it in for the night.

What are people thinking? Or more to the point, why aren't people thinking?

The Nettiemobiles, Through The Years

My buddy Tal has written a very good story about the cars of his childhood, and his eventual journey to Ford (there's a story there). Anyway, it made me pause to consider the cars of my driving life. I'm trying to remember the ones from my own childhood, and when I get all the details straight, I'll post about those as well.

By 1986, I had gotten my permit, and tried my hardest to drive our family car -- a very small car with a standard transmission. I was hopeless with a four-in-the-floor. I consider myself an intelligent girl, but I could not (and still cannot) get the hang of it. So Dad felt there was no choice but to find me a reliable car with an automatic transmission. And that was how "The Bomber" came into my life.

The Bomber was a 1976 Chevrolet Caprice Classic in light metallic blue. You could seat 6 people and have room for a full-court basketball game in there. When I got it in the summer of '86, it had about 90K on it. It had power EVERYTHING .... seats, mirrors, steering, brakes, everything.

I drove it my entire senior year, and it became legendary then..... I hit a tree with the car; not a scratch. A big truck bumped my back bumper on the way to work one day; nothing. This car was indestructible -- and I felt great in it. I didn't care how old it was, how big it was, or anything else. It was my baby.

I left it at home when I went to college. We were told that you couldn't get a parking permit for our dorm (the apartment complex). Massive bummer. When I moved on campus, I found out I could get an on-street permit from the City for the massive sum of $7.50 per year. So the first weekend I went home, I got a ride up from Claudy Fewell, and brought the car back with me. It stayed with me all through my college days, my first job, and my second job.

Everyone in college had the same thing to say about The Bomber .... "It has character." It did. It was hit the day before Thanksgiving 1987 and banged up badly. The body was never the same after that, but oh, it drove like a dream.

When my second job ended, due to a massive shutdown of a facility, we got very nice severance packages, based on how long we'd been with the company. As a less-than-one-full-year employee, I got the bare minimum, but it was enough to get another pre-owned vehicle. I'd had The Bomber for nine years. While it still drove beautifully, it was now 19 years old and getting harder and harder to maintain. The body wasn't holding up well either. As much as it did pain me to let her go, I did ..... My dad sold The Bomber for parts -- because honestly, it was worth more that way. I didn't shed a tear, but now, I kind of wish I had.

Dad told me about another car he found: a 1985 Olds '88 Royale in dark grey. The price was right, I could pay in cash with my severance, and it ran fairly well. All I can say is HUGE mistake. The body was fantastic -- never had a problem with it. But the engine was a nightmare. It was the Anti-Bomber. There was this problem, that problem, eventually rebuild the engine or transmission (I forget which). I sank way more money into maintenance on that car than I care to admit. After only four and a half years, the CV joint went. I was not about to sink another $500 into a car not worth that much. So I took my tax refund and used it as a down payment on.....

Goldie, the 1995 Ford Escort. I had passed this car lot at least 3-4 times a week and they always seemed to have nice, well-cared-for pre-owned vehicles. So I stopped in, said, "Okay, here's the monthly payment I can afford. What do you have?" 3 cars. Goldie, a white Olds (and I did not want another Olds!) and a hot pink Mercury Topaz. Goldie or a hot pink Topaz. The choice was obvious. I ended up walking out with a payment a little higher than I really wanted, but still manageable.

Goldie ended up being a great car. All the factory parts were still in it, and for a four-cylinder compact car, it was incredible. I first had an issue with it about 6 months after I got it. I'd driven to Savannah to see the Glecks, and coming back through Columbia, it just quit on me. Turns out I'd broken a timing belt. That was it. The real cost was the towing to get it both off the interstate and then home from Columbia (YOW!). And the only other mechanical problem I had with it was that the transmission just died on me one day. We installed a rebuilt one, but other than that, nothing but regular maintenance.

I was driving Goldie when the church job went south. On February 1, I turned in my resignation. I was lining up interviews and doing some other things during that time. On February 8, I left work, cranked the car, and it started doing this weird chugging-jerking thing, like a Magic Fingers bed gone way loopy. I called my favorite mechanic (a/k/a Daddy), and he had me drive it (as much as I could) to a nearby mechanic -- honestly, just down the street from the church. The next day, the guy called to tell us it was something where it would be about $1000 to replace. Again, I was faced with the prospect of sinking more into a vehicle than it was worth.

In five years, I'd put about 80K in mileage on Goldie -- trips to Savannah, Atlanta, Biloxi, genealogy trips all over the Upstate, just the daily grind. And now, I was soon to be jobless, possibly for the long haul. I was also deeply in medical debt, thanks to that lovely little cholecystectomy I'd had 17 months earlier. I needed a terribly reliable car in the worst way possible, at the cheapest rate possible, and for the best deal possible. It wasn't looking good.

On the way home, as I was sitting in the truck with Dad, despairing at what to do, we passed a different car lot...... I'd seen them a few times, and pondered going to them. They were just a local mom-and-pop thing, with just a few cars at a time, and their sign offered "We Finance - No Interest - No Credit Check." Okay, that was promising. I admit that faced with tough decisions, sometimes my response has been typically Scarlett: "I'll think about it tomorrow." And that was exactly what I did. I just needed to get through the next few days and worry about it -- later.

That Saturday, my dad said, "Come get in the car." And in a way that told me I had better. He'd gone by the little car lot, and found one for me to look at. It was a 1997 white Ford Taurus. The car looked fantastic, only had 60K on the odometer (not bad for an 8-year-old vehicle!), and had a nice interior. They had another white Taurus there, but Dad said he just didn't like the looks of it. When I went to talk to the people, my heart sank a little. It was a repaired salvage car. That gave me tremendous pause -- I surely did not want a lemon on my hands. But I drove it around, and some of my fears were alleviated. Apparently, the damage must have been strictly to the body. After some discussion with my Dad, and a couple of days to round up the down payment, I left work early on that last day to get it.

I haven't really given it a nickname, like I did with the other cars. It's a good solid car. So far, there have been no major problems, just regular maintenance. I've put over 100K on it-- unfortunately, having a 65-mile round-trip daily commute will do that. But it's been great! It needs a real car-wash (not just the "let me hose her down to knock off the pollen" routine), and is getting another oil-change tomorrow. I need her to last a little while longer.

***

Last summer, I started thinking about getting another car -- a small SUV, for that matter. Maddox fits somewhat comfortably across my back seat, but God forbid we have him AND other people in the car. I could get one person and that would be it.

There was a used-car place in Greenville where you could check out their inventory online. Great!!! So I looked, with some criteria in mind: small SUV (Ford Escape or Toyota Rav4), less than 60K in mileage, no more than 4 years old, and if at all possible, under $15,000. Much harder than it looked, but I saw a few potential ones. I even did the "contact us!" and never heard a response.

I even (God help me) called the one place I never wanted to deal with. Ever. Those of you who know me well know exactly which dealership I mean: "(BRAND NAME) OF (TOWN!!!!!!!)" yelled just like they do in their radio/TV ads. They suggested I submit my credit app online, and I said, "Oh, okay!" But I thought, "Oh hell no, I will do that in person, and you may pull it ONCE, not 19 bazillion times."

By August, a little voice in my head said, "Wait until October." Now, I claim absolutely zero psychic abilities, and I don't imagine myself to be Joan of Arc and hearing the voice of God. But my intuition is usually fairly good, and so I decided to wait. A few days later it hit me that my review is usually in October, and it might be good to see how that would turn out first. By early October, I looked at their website inventory again, and the little SUV's were hardly around -- surprising, since gas was continuing to rise. But okay, whatever. I eventually decided to hold off a little longer myself......

Imagine my shock when our local news reported a few weeks ago that this particular used-car lot was forced to close to due lack of business....... and the next day that several recent customers couldn't get their titles. And the next day when some reported that their credit reports are showing them owing the full amount (still) of their trade-ins. BIG issues. And I am so glad I listened to my inner voice that told me to wait .... and that their inventory wasn't as good later as I expected.

And as long as gas prices are hovering where they are, I'll maintain my Taurus as best as I can!

RIP Charlie

I Am Pissed. In Purple. Donny-and-Marie-from-the-70s Purple.

Charlie 106.3 is no more. Apparently, in 10 months, the ratings never got to the level The Suits wanted, and once again, there is a format change.

About 4 years ago, it was an oldies station and pulled in nice ratings -- nothing to ever make it Top 5 in the area, but decent. Then after a corporate merger, it became "The Walk": positive country & contemporary Christian. It was a format destined for failure here. Country stations are owned by "Sheer Panel" around here, and you can't sling a dead cat without hitting a religious station. Combining the two was less of a genius idea than The Suits planned on. I refused to listen to that station on sheer principle. After that failure (though it took The Suits 18 months, maybe 2 years to finally cave) they switched to "Women Talk" with syndicated stuff, mostly from Greenstone Media. Hey, I lean liberal on a lot of social issues of import to women, and even I was bored and occasionally ill-at-ease with the station the few times I listened in. Cooterville has a large female contingent, but this was too liberal for this area, and -- dare I say it -- rather unnecessary. The ratings proved so.

Well, actually, Greenstone went belly up and so did "Women Talk" ...... so The Suits did "Charlie" (a Jack format, re-named of course) starting last August. FINALLY! There was a station to suit me. Johnny Cash one minute and Prince the next, followed by Barry White or maybe even Barry Manilow. A lot of everything. It was fantastic. I wasn't thrilled by the lack of DJ's, but I got used to it because of the music.

And now it's gone. "We gave it 10 months!!!!" Right. 10 months is more than enough time to build a station base and help it succeed. What's replaced it? A simulcast (trimulcast, really) of the AM talk radio sister stations --- Rush, Sean Hannity, Mike Gallagher, the local right-wing folks. Sweet God, deliver me. I'd rather cut off a left appendage than listen to that crapfest.

The Suits have 4 other stations (not counting the gabfest tri-stations), including a couple that I used to listen to fairly regularly. No more. I will even lift my boycott of Sheer Panel if I have to. Actually, I have another option: XM or Sirius (or if things go as planned XM-Sirius)....... and as soon as I save up enough, I'm going satellite. I'm tired of music I hate. I'm especially tired of The Suits and Sheer Panel trying to tell me what music I should and shouldn't like .... because I don't fit their formats.

I'm a P1 for most adult contemporary formats -- at least according to all the demographics. I should swoon every time I hear Josh Groban, right? Is it any wonder I've been listening to SportsTalk? I don't fit any of their demographic molds -- and I'm pretty damn proud of that.

RIP, Charlie. You were good. And taken too soon.

To hell with Doc Brown...

To quote England Dan and John Ford Coley...

Wish I had a time machine, I could
Make myself go back until the day I was born,
So I could live my life again,
And rearrange it so that.....

The rest of the verse and song isn't germane, but those sentiments are.

I don't usually have regrets or coulda-woulda-shouldas. I joke on occasion about Doc Brown and not messing up the space-time continuum, but there is some truth there. If I were to change even one little thing, who knows the ramifications and how it would alter what I know to be reality. I honestly mean it when I say that I wouldn't even change the less-than-wonderful moments in my life, because they have made me who I am today. This morning, however, I found that I do have a couple of things to add to the CWS list, and I would give an appendage for a DeLorean and a flux capacitor.

I went for an early MLD appointment. My therapist had told me to go ahead and unwrap at home to make it easier for me, and treat my lower legs to an actual shower. Right now, I'm having to treat the wrappings like a cast -- stick my leg in a trash bag, tape it shut to avoid water (which still doesn't always help) and go from there. I gotta tell you, it felt SO good to be free from the bandages for a while. Until.......

I hopped up on the table and began to slide up my pants legs for the MLD. The area where the lymphedema is most pronounced was a violent shade of red and violet. Drainage wasn't happening without compression. Even for just that short time (about 90 minutes), it wasn't working.

My therapist was okay with it.... within just a few moments of elevation, the color was going back to a more normal tone. It's discolored anyway, but at first looked like a sledgehammer had worked on it. But she said that for the long haul, compression was going to be a necessity, either through bandaging or compression hosiery/socks. I expected it, but I suppose I wasn't quite as prepared for the finality of it. I guess in the back of my mind, there might be a miraculous chance that after just a couple of years or so, everything would be hunky-dory. But it's going to be more like the rest of my life, or close enough to it.

And that's when I wished for the time machine ..... to go back to my teen years and think when I first noticed the problem. To have gone for medical treatment then instead of assuming that it was just part of me getting fatter. To have taken Mrs. D (our librarian) up on her offer of paying for me to attend Weight Watchers way back then. To have just been smarter and wiser about things.

Yeah, I know -- it is totally impossible to redo the past (even if I could) knowing what I know now. And in this case, this condition might have been present from birth -- or certainly during my developing years (when this system didn't properly develop). That cannot be helped.

I have to stop beating myself up over what I failed to do, and concentrate my energies on what I can do now. And to make my next 40+ years a complete change from the sorry way I treated myself the first 36.

Help! Help! I've been tagged!!!

The rules: Each player answers the questions about themselves. At the end of the post, the player then tags 5 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know they’ve been tagged and asking them to read your blog. Let the person who tagged you know when you’ve posted your answer.

What was I doing ten years ago?
Making it through each day, in a weird fog. A long-term relationship had just ended differently than I'd hoped. My job was just okay. I just didn't really like things, but wasn't sure I could change.

What are five (non-work) things on my to-do list for today:
1. Walk the dog.
2. Vote in the primary.
3. Attend the RFTC Committee meeting.
4. Pick up lunch.
5. Check e-mail.
(all DONE!)

5 Snacks I enjoy:
Pink Lady apples
Weight Watchers minibars (the peanut butter bliss are OMG)
Oranges
Fiber One bars
Jolly Time popcorn minibags

Things I would do if I were a billionaire:
Quit, and buy my radio station.
Give money to my old college for a scholarship. Actually, I'd set up my own foundation and do scholarships that way.
Buy some land and create a Lab rescue organization.
Pay off my parents' bills and house. Give money to my brother.

Places I have lived:
Liberty SC
*college - Charleston SC

Jobs I have had:
Babysitter
Telemarketer
Computer lab assistant
Box office ticket seller
Administrative assistant
Call center coordinator
Administrative assistant/bookkeeper
Accounting clerk


Ok, time to tag 5 people. I'm going to tag:
Stacey, Bolivar, Vixen, Sheila, and Ballz. Have fun y'all!

Hey, just like my real prom.....

Last night, I went to a local radio station's "Awesome 80s Prom" (really an excuse for a party). A friend had gotten me a ticket and I was supposed to meet her over there.

I opined in another forum about trying to find a prom dress at a thrift shop on short notice. It wasn't successful at all -- so I went with Plan B. Jeans that looked quasi-acid-washed, a polo with collar turned up, and my dad's Members Only jacket (OMG, yes, he still has one). I found a cheap blue eyeliner pencil and I was good to go. Couldn't find any blue mascara ... okay, I wasn't willing to pay more than $4 for some because I was ONLY going to wear it once!

I got to the hotel, and the guy asked to see my ID. I gave him a huge hug ..... he made my night! I used to get carded regularly, but that stopped almost altogether around age 32 (except for waitstaff angling for a tip - and I'm a sucker for that).

I got there, and luckily for me, there was a wide variety of clothing styles. Yes, most of the gals had on prom dresses, but I just didn't care. I was happy and comfy and wasn't having people staring going "OMG, what's with her legs?" Of course, I realized later that I could have just worn a regular dress and slung some legwarmers on there.... DUH! Except for that pesky promise I made to myself in 7th grade that I would never ever wear them again (mine were striped -- horizontally -- red, white, and blue. Yay, America.)

I spent the next hour or so wandering around looking for my friend. I never did see her, and by 10 PM, I decided I'd had enough fun. But in the meantime I did get to dance with a total stranger......

Progress is being made!

Today was my 3rd MLD treatment, and my first measurements since treatment. SUCCESS!!!!! In some areas I have already lost inches! And I can tell the MLD is working.

This is good. Very good!

An interesting medical turn.....

Here's a little background: I have big ugly tree-trunk legs. I do not lie nor kid. It's not just cankles. It's all over bulk, and just ugly. But hey ... that's how it is.

A couple of months back, one of my doctors suggested I go ahead and consult with a plastic surgeon about possible removal of the huge amount of bulk down on my lower legs. Okay, I'm hip to that! So I met with the plastic surgeon, who suggested waiting until I'm a bit closer to goal weight before we even consider surgery..... but in the meantime, she said to get myself a good pair of firm support compression stockings -- which would also have to be special-ordered because of the strength she suggested (and the size of my legs, no doubt).

I found a medical supply place near work, stopped in there to buy the stockings, and the lady took me to a back room for measurements. When I pulled up my pants legs, she immediately about had a cow. Turns out she has a background in people with lymphedema. She suggested that before we order the hosiery, I get MLD -- manual lymphatic drainage -- a massage that will help get rid of all the excess fluid that has built up and can't work itself out because of the insufficiency.

So, I got back in touch with the plastic surgeon to see if she would do the prescription for this therapy (since I can't just walk in and say, "HEY! I'd like some MLD today!"). She enthusiastically agreed, and last Friday was my first physical therapy appointment for MLD.
On Friday, Debbie (the therapist) gave me some interesting news, some hope, and reason to smile about my legs. Turns out that I have primary lymphedema, which means that it is something that didn't develop properly in my lymph system either in the womb or during my developing years. Upon further research, I learned that I probably have lymphedema praecox (Miege's Disease), meaning that it didn't manifest itself until after puberty but before age 35. I had told Debbie that the last picture I remember of myself with normal looking legs was somewhere around age 14. So we decided on treatments 3 times a week at least for the short term (one or two months). The only downside to all this is that even after I eventually have alllllll that extra skin removed, I will still have lymphedema to deal with. I will always have to wear some kind of support hosiery, even if it's just light hose for special events. Maybe a sleeve to sleep in, or wear during the day.

So I was in some light support tubing this weekend -- the same weekend that God decided to flip the "Hotter-n-Hades" switch across the south. But I was determined to make it work. On Monday, I had my first MLD treatment. I got to lay on a table, put my feet up on a wedge, and get worked over. Then I got wrapped after it was over --- Borissa Karloff, from the knees down. I looked like The Mummy. I had a stocking thing (like you'd put on a broken leg before they put the cast on), then some padding over the affected area, and then bandaged from mid-foot to just below the knee. Speaking of casts, I have to treat these like a cast ..... yep, I put my legs in trash bags and tape 'em closed tight.

Today was my 2nd treatment -- and Debbie was extremely pleased!! Apparently, I already have some good results on the horizon. My legs were starting to wrinkle a little, meaning all that excess fluid is finally draining out!!!!

This is just yet another interesting turn in the road of my life. I can't wait to see how it will all turn out!

Memories of Great Halls....

My pal Tal has written a beautiful and moving elegy of the ASU Seminole Twin Towers, his home during his college days, and now demolished. It made me think of the many abodes I had in college -- not as many abodes as roommates, but that's another tale for another day.

First up: University Place (August 23, 1987-September 11, 1987... eek!). I was 17 when I left home and moved into my first dorm room. Housing had messed up and somehow overbooked housing, so a number of us were quickly shuffled into two off-campus housing locations at MUSC (the medical school just down the street from C of C). University Place was a private apartment complex -- still six blocks or so from my campus and just on the edge of the rough section of town.

Now, this seems like a great setup, right? Our own APARTMENT, instead of a crappy dorm. We have our own kitchen! There is no one to monitor us!!! WOO-HOO!!! Wrong. Looking back, there were two primary reasons I hated it tremendously .... one, I was still in transition from small-town girl (and super-goody-two-shoes at that), and two, I had Roomie from Hell #1. Okay, really, she wasn't, but we were polar opposites. She was brash and very curt, whereas I was far more meek and given to great emotional displays at that time. Even that first night, the other suitemates told her to lighten up. Once she discovered I had no plans to go Greek, then I was truly persona non grata. A complete nobody in her perfect little Tri-Delt world (and to be fair, I knew lots of nice Tri-Delts; she simply wasn't one of them).

I was a thorn in the Housing Office's side for the next two weeks. I went every single day, begging to be moved. I cried. I squalled. I pleaded. Finally by September 9, I had given up and just decided I was going to have to make do. The one bright spot was that I had decided to take part in a service fraternity -- which Miss Tri-Delt promptly declared "for losers" and which my also-Greek suitemate said, "Hey, listen. Shut up. It's not for you, and that's fine. But it sounds perfect for her, so Just. Lay. Off. Got it?" (I still think fondly of her to this day, and I haven't spoken to her in 20 years).

Salvation came on September 10. Solveig from Housing called. Seems a place had opened up in one of the historic houses, and that there would eventually be a third roommate moved in, but was I interested? I told her, "I'll take it." Solveig: "But don't you at least want to go over and check it out first?" Me: "Yeah, but sign me up anyway." Solveig: "Go look first, then come by Housing." Me: "I don't care. I'm taking it, and I'm coming over to look at it."

24 Bull, Room 101: (September 11, 1987-end of Spring 1989) So I hopped on the downtown trolley as quickly as I could, went to the room, met the current tenant, and five minutes later, ran over to Housing and told Solveig once again, "I'LL TAKE IT!!!" My new roomie helped me move everything in the next evening, and I was happier than forty clams.

24 Bull was one of several historic homes that had been renovated into living quarters. It was usually limited to upperclassmen only, but because of Housing's massive screw-ups over the summer, there were several freshmen and sophomores living there. I didn't care if it had been rooms full of goldfish and I'd been asked to clean all the poop. I was taking it. The reason the houses were normally off-limits to underclassmen was that there were no real restrictions. Technically, we all had the same rules as the "real" dorms .... only there were no check-in desks. No monitors. There was a security guard who stopped by and patrolled by, but no real authority figure who checked up on you. Okay, granted at 24 Bull, our RA lived with us (but she had responsibility for our house and four others on the street). But as far as following the same rules as "real" dorms, BAH! We laughed at them.......

24 Bull #101 was my home for the next two years. And that first year -- in spite of a few things -- remains one of the most wonderful times in my college memory. There were nine of us on the first floor -- 3 in Room 101 (the third roomie moved in the first weekend of October), 2 in Room 102, 3 in Room 105, and 1 in the private "senior suite" (Room 106), which had private access. She didn't socialize much with the rest of us -- freshmen and sophomores -- but we had a large time with the 8 of us!!! We were in and out of each others' rooms like they were our own. We developed some good relationships which withstood some pretty weird things ..... such as having a kleptomaniac on our floor (which turned out to be the original occupant of our room). Stacey moved in later that spring (having had a problem with her roommate, in another of the houses up the street), and a friendship was solidified. The next year wasn't so hot. Of the original 8, only 2 of us were there the next year. The entire dynamic changed, and a new RA came along who was definitely not Dawn (the previous RA). After the end of that lousy 2nd year, I decided a change was in order. And to continue the regression from apartment to historic house, I went from house to "real" dorm. And I picked the coolest one on campus.............

College Lodge, Room 608: (Fall 1989-end of Spring 1991) Let me backtrack a little. When I lived at 24 Bull, we were under the auspices of the College Inn. The Inn (as it was known) was an old motel that the College had purchased many years prior and turned into a dorm. It was a dump -- but a dump with character. If you moved into the Inn, you never wanted to leave. And indeed, there were some who were 4-year-residents at the Inn. But they paved Paradise and literally put up a Parking Lot (I think they called it "S" Lot). The Lodge was similar -- a high-rise hotel with an incredibly small parking deck that the College had turned into dorm space.

Like the Inn, the Lodge was also legendary. While not quite inspiring the same loyalty as the Inn had, it was nonetheless a great place to live -- if for one reason and one reason only: private bathrooms. See, at 24 Bull, we shared a hall bath. You try coordinating 9 girls and their bathroom time. That first year worked great, with no arguing. That second year... not so well. We made a schedule of who would take morning showers and evening showers. It was that crazy. But in the Lodge, there would only be two of us sharing that bathroom. And those bathrooms had tubs -- perfect for lolling (it was showers only at every other dorm). The only other possibly cooler dorm on campus was Rutledge Rivers -- apartment-style dorms with a living room, and those were impossible to get into unless you just got lucky.

Oh, the Lodge, how I miss thee sometimes. You were a dump but by God, you were my dump!! I had the corner room facing the back of Maybank Hall and the side of the Simons Art Center, on the top floor. It was truly almost heaven. And for a time, there were 5 rooms in a row all filled with fraternity connections, plus other frat people in the Lodge. There were also classmates, coworkers, etc. It was the coolest place on earth. And especially that first year -- when Roy was our RD. Roy was the coolest grad student RD who ever lived. Roy appreciated that we were students, young and eager to test our limits. During our dorm meetings, I lost count of the number of times I heard, "Now, come inspection time, I can check every place except your closet. We cannot go into your closet no matter what. And not saying I'm looking but if you have something you need to hide, remember: I can't check your closet."

Unfortunately, the next year, Roy had gotten his Master's, moved on, and we got a new RD who was as uptight and rules-heavy as Roy had been easygoing. When he mentioned the closet rule, he sounded almost disappointed that he couldn't check the closets. I swear, part of me wondered if he would have been happier in the military, doing quarter-bounce checks on cots. However, I'll give credit where it is due; he got me a visitor's pass for a friend who came for a during-the-week visit, when he didn't have to (technically, I was supposed to give a week's notice). Plus I had some other very serious stuff going on in my life.

At the end of that Spring '91 semester, I was tired of school and tired of dorm life. I decided apartment living was the way to go. So I put my name on "roommate wanted" at the Housing Office, and let it go from there.

Had I known how things that semester were going to go, I should have stayed home and never gone back!!! But that too is another tale for another day.

Gearing up for the Race....

Breast cancer is a cause near and dear to my heart. I lost a great-aunt to complications from breast cancer back in the late 70s. I also lost a very dear friend from high school just a couple of years ago. On the flip side, my dad's sister is a 17-year-plus survivor.

Early detection saves lives. It really is that simple.

A little further about the high school friend. Long-time readers already know the story. Tee was like a sister to me in those days. But our early adult lives veered in different directions -- she was a wife and stay-at-home mom, while I was "career girl" (such as it was). We started only keeping in touch if we ran into each other (or ran into the parents) in the grocery store or Wal-Mart.

When I heard she'd been diagnosed, I was floored. And I had no idea how to approach her or all those years we'd gone without being part of each others' lives. So I took the chicken approach -- I did nothing. No flowers, no card, no nothing. I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything.

I prayed -- I prayed for her. I put her name in our prayer book at church. I thought of her often. But it wasn't enough. Tee passed away just a few weeks short of turning 37. She left behind two teenage kids and a husband, plus parents who were now burying yet another child (her brother had died a few years earlier).

I was angry -- mostly at myself, but I was also truly angry at cancer. I hate cancer of all kinds to begin with, but having the family connections to the disease really make me hate breast cancer. This made me want to do something about it. I could never bring my friend back, and it's hard for me to forgive myself for not doing more when she was alive. I have to do what I can now.

This is my 2nd year to take part in the Upstate SC Race for the Cure. Last year, my walk time in the 5K was 1:06:34. I intend this year to come in at under an hour. And for the 2nd year, I'm the team captain for our corporate team. And I am on the race committee as "Sleep-In For The Cure" coordinator.

If you are so inclined, I would love to have you assist me with a donation. You can do it online by going to my RFTC fundraising page; you will receive an e-mail confirmation and tax receipt immediately. No amount is too small -- I promise -- and every dollar is greatly appreciated!

Departing from my usual MO....

I'm not the type to wear my faith on my sleeve. For me, it's intensely personal and private -- even though I strongly believe in the value of a faith community. But I was stricken tonight by the number of prayer needs that friends of mine have posted on various messageboards, mostly prayers for healing. I was absolutely dumbfounded by the magnitude of the medical needs -- people fighting cancer, a little girl who lives with a rare form of epilepsy, someone whose brother is receiving a transplant (and the family who so graciously gave the gift of life in the midst of death), someone else whose relative was in an awful car accident ..... the list goes on.

I think no matter what our professed faith is, the need to tap into some power beyond our own is important. And I am humbled and awed by the sense of my prayers reaching into God's ears and into His merciful sacred heart. So for all those who have asked my prayers, I offer this:

Kind, loving, and merciful God, I come before you tonight -- thankful for the many gifts and blessings you have bestowed. I come to you, source of all that is good, seeking special favors for those I love -- and for those near and dear to their hearts.

So many are battling life-threatening medical issues; please heal them, and hold their families up through these difficult moments. Grant them a special measure of grace, strength in trials, and a heart full of gratitude.

So many are in need of other miracles; please provide all their needs, and if it be your will, maybe a couple of the small wants.

So many are overwhelmed by the burdens of life; grant them peace of mind and strength of spirit to handle what they can, and the grace of surrendering the rest to you.

So many are without even the basic necessities which I so easily take for granted; provide them with food, clothing, warm and dry shelter, a living wage, companionship, and strength for each day's labor.

I pray that you comfort the afflicted, tenderly receive the dying, open our hearts to the wonder of life, and help us all to thank and praise you for every gift you send our way.

In Christ's name, amen.

I am alive.

I have just been snowed under the last few days. Enough so that I've sworn I need a wife more than a husband. I need someone to just come in and organize my life and my space and my head to be able to do everything more easily and more clearly.

But, I guess I'd have to do that myself anyway -- develop a system I can live with.

Back to me. Ugh.

A very happy anniversary!

This past Saturday marked one year since Maddox came bounding into our lives. And for the life of me, I cannot imagine (nor do I want to) life without him. It had been nearly 20 years since I'd owned a pet. I'm older and wiser than I was then, and smarter about what to do. And of course, it's always trial and error.

It's been an interesting year -- obedience training and retraining (and occasionally re-retraining!). Stomach upsets, e. coli, and hypothyroidism. But much love, sweet kissies, and the occasional walking injury, usually caused by the hot pursuit of a squirrel.

I wouldn't trade this year for anything!

I love you, buddy!

Just for Stoney.....

Tonight, there's gonna be a jailbreak
Somewhere in this town.....

Okay, that part was for Stoney. :-D

Yep, we had a prison break right in my very own house.

Prisoner #060106, a/k/a Maddox the Mad Mutt, sneaked out as an older female warden was rolling the garbage bin back into the exercise yard. Luckily the youngest warden of the clan was there to assist.

The prisoner made it no further than a block and a half up the street, at which point, Young Warden yelled out, "Dammit Maddox, get over here. Come here! HERE! HERE!" Maddox, sensing his doom, caved in returned to the guard, who was able to collar him (literally) and return him to his rather spacious cell. I have since learned that he yelled it so loudly that a neighbor a block away heard him. He said Maddox sort of looked at him like, "Oh. OH! You are being serious, huh? Okay....." and then came back.

Fred the Dachshund is said to be baking him a cake with a file. And rumor has it that Maia the Husky was giving him breakout tips over a purloined cell phone. Fred, thanks for the cake, but Big Mama is confiscating the file.... and her phone!!!

Well, plans have changed.

I had planned to participate in this year's "Liberty Idol." Auditions began last weekend, and continue through the first Saturday in May. I had last weekend (and I just forgot it), this weekend, and that weekend in May (out of town next weekend).

But ya know..... I'm just not feeling it. I have a few songs in mind, but I'm honestly not feeling the pull to it like I was a few weeks ago. Maybe it's just realizing that I have other things to do on the weekends, or just wanting to devote energies elsewhere this summer. I'm honestly not enthused enough to want it this year.

So best of luck to all the contestants! Maybe see ya next year!

A wonderful opportunity!

Earlier this week, the local affiliate of Susan G. Komen for the Cure called me, inquiring if I would be interested in joining the Race Committee. Sure, why not, I thought, and signed up to be at tonight's kickoff meeting.

It has been a very long time since I have volunteered in any capacity outside of my church. I was so involved with community service in high school and college, and couldn't imagine not doing something like that as an adult. I mean, for criminy's sake, I was a member of a service fraternity in college!!!! But soon work, life, stress, you name it -- it all came along and suddenly there was no time for my community. My church got my volunteer energy -- not that there's anything wrong with that, but the community at large could have used me too.

One of my resolutions was to do some community service again, but I was thinking of volunteering at the animal shelter once a month or something like that. So finally the time has come. It's a good opportunity to help, and it's certainly a cause about which I am passionate.

I was thinking this was going to be something like a "volunteer opportunity fair" -- you know, go in, see what volunteer ideas are available, go in and sign up for 2 or 3 little things ..... you know, like helping on team registration day. Or "hey, I'll help with promotions!"

Oh no. Oh no. This was a meeting for people who are going to be COORDINATORS and CHAIRPEOPLE. So guess what? I signed up to be "Sleep In For The Cure" coordinator. I will help promote this event (for people who want to contribute and get some tangible item but who have NO intention of getting up that early to actually walk or run!), buy the prizes, etc.

I'm actually kind of psyched about this whole thing. It's not only about time I stepped back into volunteering, it's time I got out and networked again. I haven't done much of that since I left ol' FD nearly 14 years ago. I'm looking forward to what I can do to help the cause along!

Stop! Idol Time....

Quick note: the fingers are much better. The pinky still hurts under running water, and is a bit tender, but so far no blistering. AHHHH!!!

It's time again for "Liberty Idol," our hometown singing competition. I am planning to go for it this year. In an earlier blogpost about Dan Fogelberg's death, I mentioned that I wanted to audition to "Hard to Say," but I'm thinking a different song. I've been leaning all this week to "I Feel The Earth Move" (Carole King). No matter what happens, I'm going to try and go as old-school as I can and as often as possible!

We'll see what happens!

A quick kitchen-related PSA and medical rant.

Never ever lift off a Saran Wrap plastic cover with your dominant hand and pull in the opposite direction (e.g., with your right hand and pulling right-to-left).

Signed,
The Girl with 3 Steam-Burned Fingers Which Are Hurting Like A Mofo

Yes, dear friends, I was stupid enough to do that this early afternoon. I was heating a bag of frozen veggies in the microwave, when I went to do a quick stir. It all happened in maybe 2 seconds, but I knew from the first one that it wasn't going to be good.

By the time I walked Maddox a little later, the pain wasn't any better and the inflammation hadn't lessened. That was having sprayed it with Bactine and put some Noxzema on it. So I stopped at CVS on the walk and got this gel stuff with lidocaine, just for burns. I also got some tubular gauze, which is now wrapped around my fingers, and covered in medical tape. There are also these little rubber gizmos to put on my fingers for handwashing or showering. Little finger condoms (for real!).

So why didn't I haul myself in for medical care? Lack of urgent care facilities in our county -- plain and simple. On our insurance plan, the co-pay for an office visit and urgent care is the same ($20). The co-pay for the ER is six times that cost and a little more ($125). No way am I spending that much for a co-pay, but I also wasn't going to drive to Greenville just for urgent care. Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

Urgent care for my county: what a concept that would be.

EDIT: Well. I just found out there's an urgent care facility in Clemson. Had I known that four hours ago, my happy butt would have gone!!! Making a note for the future.....

Another busy weekend, a/k/a five hours to kill.....

Isn't it amazing that our weekends -- the time we are supposed to relax from the toils of work and do nearly nothing -- have become the times that we run all our errands that we can't fit in during the workweek? I'm no exception.......

Yesterday was beautiful -- nice and warm, a pretty spring day. I knew today was going to be a little different. What started as a cool, partly sunny morning quickly becoming cloudy and blustery. Later, it devolved into downright chilly and rainy. Now, I will not complain about the rain. We were in desperate need of it all last year, and it did not come. So it can rain all it wishes this spring.

The problem with today? I'd already made an appointment for Maddox to be groomed. He hadn't been trimmed since November, and believe me, my boy was shaggy!!! He really needed the bath and the pampering, so I took him to the pet store. The groomers told me that with the larger dogs, it would be around 5 hours. YIKES! I was thinking maybe 4 hours tops. So there I was. I had the option of going back home (30 minutes away), or fooling around and trying hard not to spend too much money.

Of course, I went shopping -- DUH! I hit Big Lots, which I hadn't been to in ages. They had all their summer goods out, and I swear, if I'd had a little more fundage, OH! I would have bought them out of stuff in the Tiki aisle. You just don't know how much I love beach/island/Tiki/luau themes. As it was, I got one item as an addition to a gift I recently purchased.

I wandered over a bit further to the grocery aisles. I found some spices that I wanted, at a very good price. For everyday average cooking, I admit that I am not terribly snobby about spices. For special dishes, it's a different story -- or if there's a particular herb or spice I need. But for the basics (garlic powder, meat tenderizer, ginger, cinnamon, etc.) then I would be stupid to pay $2.50 for the same thing when I could pay $1.00. I also discovered something highly unusual there -- NutriSystem food. What the holy heck is that? Well, I know they've recently revamped their program as "NutriSystem Advanced 2008." All this stuff was still well within the expiration date (the earliest I saw was this summer), but I guess since it's no longer part of the new program, they let it go to Big Lots. I didn't buy any -- but it was just odd to see it there. Very odd.

I wandered over a little further -- and found something even odder: double-DVD sets of Lifetime movies! My mother loves those things; I enjoy them only in an MST3K sort of way, as pure camp. Even as much as I would love to have been able to poke fun at them, I wasn't going to spend money on them.

After leaving Big Lots, I found a place called "Giant Book Sale" -- another complete weakness of mine. These are pretty heavily discounted, and mostly hardcover. After perusing the store for about 45 minutes, I walked out with just two books: "The Why Cafe" (it looked interesting), and a "Trim & Terrific" cookbook. That one was the especially sweet find: the nutrition information provided will help me with Points, and has diabetic exchanges (what my mother's nutrition plan is based on). And even though it seems I have a thousand cookbooks, recipes, etc. that I never use (it's the truth), this one appealed because of the variety of veggie recipes. I need ways to make veggies a little differently and a little more appealing.

After leaving the bookstore, I had a quick lunch, and back into the pouring cold rain, with two hours left until Maddox would be ready. Oh boy...... So I went into TJ Maxx. The last time I was at the one across town from this one, I was disappointed. I was here too, at least as far as clothing. But I don't really need any for a while anyway. People have been more than generous to me with clothes, and I've picked up a few more staple pieces recently. I'm good to go for a while. The purses --- DANGER, WILL ROBINSON!!! Now, I am not a purse ho per se. I definitely don't gravitate toward the high-end bags and save my money for them. But I do like a well-constructed bag, with a name I recognize, and for a decent price. But I have enough purses for a while, and I'm good with them.

I also looked at luggage while I was there. For about 10 years, I have used my little 21" weekender. It has served incredibly well, and is just as sturdy as ever -- okay, the expandable handle part came out years ago, but other than that. However, the time has come for a new suitcase -- and I'm thinking one between 24"-26". The 28" and up almost seem too large. The prices were okay, but I will check a couple of other places -- including Tarjay and Le Wally. I don't need a "designer" bag -- just one that is well-constructed and will last for years to come. Believe me, I don't care how well known the names are on some of those luggage pieces, I will be damned if I pay some of those prices! I ended up buying only a book that was on clearance (yes, another book), and that was just sort of to thank them for allowing me to waste some time in there.

While I was in there, I came this-close to calling my friend Stacey to see what was wrong with me; I was in the shoe section, and was going to call her to talk me out of buying a pair of shoes. Now, I am not much of a shoe hound (clothes are another story entirely!), but I've bought four pairs in the last week, all dress shoes. I needed an intervention. However, I was afraid Stacey would come over with the girl-card police and they would revoke my card!!! As it was, I talked myself out of the shoes. I don't care that they were CUTE pink Keds slip-ons. And only $10. I just wasn't feeling them.

It was about 40 minutes to go when I left TJ Maxx, and went down to Goody's (passing a shoe store -- can you believe it?). This particular Goody's and one other in town is serving as a "clearance center." Apparently, according to the signs, everything must go to the bare walls!!!! NOW!!! Believe me, I have hit their stores quite often in the last couple of weeks. I got some sweet deals there last week -- 3 pants, 3 "schweaters" (sweaters with the faux blouses underneath), a cute A-line skirt, a pair of shorts, and a straw tote all for about $70 (most was on clearance, but darn that one pair of pants for $20! Wink wink). Well, anyway, as I was walking up there, I realized it was getting even colder -- and all I had on was my spring sweater. So I went to see if they had a jacket.

A few days ago, I noticed they had "athletic sets" on sale. The jackets I love, but I do not want the pants. I'm sorry but there's no way in hell I am going to wear pants made of parachute-like material, and start a fire by my thighs rubbing together. Lucky for me, I found ONE solo jacket with no pants, and in a pretty light kiwi-green color. YAHOO! I can wear it with the yoga pants I already have, or a nice pair of shorts on a cooler summer or fall day. And with the clearance discount -- just under $6.

Then it was time to get in line to pay. Sweet Fancy Moses, everybody and their damn brother was in line, and they only had every other register open. There were people with buggies full of things. The people in front of me -- $115 dollars, and they walked out with BAGS of stuff. But while I was in line, the groomers rang, and Buddy Boy was done (right at the 5-hour mark!). Once I paid and got the hell out of there, I picked him up and he looked absolutely adorable (and about 10 pounds thinner)! Just in time, too -- the rain started in again.

And next Saturday, it's another busy morning on tap: vet visit for Maddox, church directory pictures for me, and God knows what else........ Some Saturday soon, I fully intend to do absolutely nothing of any import. Won't that be odd?

I am still here, I promise...

It's just nothing has gone on that merits a blog post here at good ol' M&M. Okay, maybe a few things but nothing I want to put on a blog that everybody and their brother can read!

I'm alive. I'm happy. And all is well, mostly. Not boring, but just ordinary.

All quiet on the southern front

There really hasn't been enough going on right now to post anything. But I haven't died. Promise.

Gleckfest 2008

This weekend, I took a much-needed break to go visit friends, chill out, and forget about everything. And it was lovely!!

Friday, I awoke to a lovely beautiful bright morning! The weather was just right for a late winter morning -- a little crisp, bright and lovely. I packed my bags and headed out around 12:00. Lunch was at a local Cracker Barrel, which was packed as usual but without the expected wait for a table. I had two waitresses, apparently -- the first of whom took my order and brought it out, and the other who followed up on me and filled my drink. Okay..... so I left a tip for both of them.

Then down the road to Savannah I went. It was a fairly uneventful drive, I must say, with one delightful exception...... For weeks now, I have been teased with ads for Diet Dr. Pepper in Cherry Chocolate, only to be sorely disappointed whenever I would try to find it in the stores. I shouldn't be surprised. After all, I've run into the same thing with Diet Pepsi's Jazz: Caramel Cream. But at the Pilot Travel Center in Clinton SC, while filling my tank, I found the Cherry Chocolate DDP. Two words: Oh. My. It was very good. And while I know I can get the same thing at Sonic anytime, it's just nice to have it already prepared so that all you have to do is open the can or bottle.

So delightful drink in hand, down the road I continued. I had just one quick RA stop in Orangeburg, and the time was getting pretty good. I had planned to arrive between 5:30 and 6:00, only I forgot about my congenital defect coming into play .... darn that weighty right foot! No, I didn't get a ticket but I did go faster than I figured I would.

While on the final leg of the journey (down I-95), I noticed a large number of snowbird vehicles -- I counted 9 from Quebec, 5 from Ontario, 1 from Nova Scotia, and several from Pennsylvania and Illinois. I had to laugh. I know it's been a butt-cold winter, and I know that the weather was exceptionally nice this particular weekend. But not warm enough for the beach or the ocean. Trust us on this. April - now that's a different story!

As it was, I crossed into Georgia around 5:00 PM..... only to find that the Welcome Center's restrooms were closed!!! ARRRRGH! I also knew I'd be making a stop at the WallyCenter near the Gleck home, but c'mon...... Alas, the WallyStalls would have to do (and may I congratulate the Middle Effingham WallyCenter on their clean restroom!)

Anyhow, after visiting the Wally and picking up a few items (like toothpaste!), I met up with the Glecks and K/S & The General for a wonderful evening meal. We laughed about the little newspaper and the crime reports -- I swear, I want a subscription to this newspaper JUST for the crime reports.

Saturday was touristy day --- WOO HOO!!!!!! I really do enjoy doing the touristy stuff, and I loved the trolley ride. We ate at Sixpence Pub for lunch, toured the Juliette Gordon Low house, and had a great time. And I screwed up royally ..... yep. I got brave and said I could sit in the back seat on the way to dinner. I was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. And I have kicked myself for it, because dinner was at Johnny Harris.

Johnny Harris' Restaurant is legendary, and with good reason. Oh my God. This is one of my favorite places in the whole world. The food is good (not rah-rah great, but good), but it's the ambience and atmosphere that make the experience. It is a time warp, all to itself. I swear, every time I am there, I fully expect Frankie, Dino, and Sammy to come in and request their usual table. At any rate, the Glecks and the K's (God bless them!) salvaged dinner for me (and to whomever I owe, LET ME KNOW!), and I enjoyed it later, once the swimmy-heads had gone away.

Sunday was a lazy day, in which we treated the K's to the delights of Zaxby's -- the General was most definitely pleased! General, keep coming, and we will treat you to Zaxby's delights over and over again. (Hey, WW or not, sometimes, you just gotta have Zaxby's!) Then we went back to stately Gleck Manor and watched "Kingpin" -- a film I could watch over and over and over. Later on, we went to Carey Hilliard's for dinner. Carey Hilliard's is another Savannah legendary place (okay, chain, as the case is). It's good seafood and barbecue. Hey, you're in the South, barbecue is an art form. The K's left Sunday evening in order to get a headstart on the trip back, and I stayed over one extra night.

Come Monday, sadly, the time drew to an end.......

Hey, remember the excitement I felt about the Diet Cherry Chocolate Dr. Pepper? Guess what I discovered Friday in the Middle Effingham Wally World? Yep -- not only DCCDP, but the awesome Caramel Cream Jazz Diet Pepsi. So Monday morning, on the way back home, I stopped and got myself some. Yum, yum, yum!!!! The road beckoned, and I made it home in really good time (including an unplanned breakfast stop). Note: Cracker Barrel's oatmeal is a good, filling breakfast, and low in points if you get it with the fruit toppings (or the sugar-free syrup).

I arrived home around 12:30, relaxed and happy, and so glad for the wonderful friendship and times we shared! I can't wait for more good times to come!

I'm here, I promise....

It's been a crazy two weeks, with illnesses at work and a few other things in life. I've been doing some pondering on some things, and deciding how to phrase them best for the blog. But better posts are forthcoming.

And I'm so looking forward to this coming weekend's vacation that I can hardly contain myself!!!

Call your cable company, and say.....

My pal Seraphim Gleck posted a comment to Kate/Susan about Rick Springfield and a little show on TBS called "Night Tracks."

Our cable system was woefully behind the times, and we didn't get actual MTV until Fall 1984. The first time I ever saw actual MTV, however, was May 1982 in Knoxville when we went to visit friends of my parents. Their sons were a couple of years older than me, heavy into guitars, and loving MTV. The first video I saw? "Don't Talk to Strangers" by Rick Springfield. Le swoon. I also remember seeing "Any Way You Want It" by Journey and something by Cheap Trick where Rick Neilsen played this 5-necked guitar. I was in shock; they were in awe. And a love affair with music went to a whole 'nother level.

Of course, again, our cable system was hardly hip -- and even though we've been DirecTV customers for 11 years now, our town still has the same cable system and it's still sucky compared to Charter, Comcast, Time Warner, etc. So we had very few options. Good ol' Casey would still on occasion have the "Spotlight Song of the Week" on TV's AT10 and show the video. USA Network had "Radio 1990" which was a pretty cool, edgy show. NBC was coming out with "Friday Night Videos" .... but not just yet. So leave it to Ted Turner to help us out.

"Night Tracks" -- ah, how I loved thee! From 11:30 until the wee small hours of the morning. I usually sat up until 2:00 AM to watch the videos on my little B&W RCA. I remember the first U2 video I ever saw -- a double helping with "Two Hearts Beat As One" and "New Year's Day." I saw "Total Eclipse of the Heart" a bazillion times. And one of the best videos ever .... "New Frontier" by Donald Fagen (off one of the BEST LP's ever).

We got MTV, and then "Night Tracks" fell off the radar. I'd tune in on occasion, but MTV had it all. At least, back then they did, and what I wouldn't give for MTV to just create a network called MTV rerun. And all they would need to do is replay every single second from the opening on August 1, 1981 until somewhere around ..... August 1, 1990? Right now, I'd even pay good money to see an episode of "Remote Control," or "Yo! MTV Raps" (and yes, even I can't believe I'm saying that). Or "Dial MTV" where Motley Crue's "Home Sweet Home" was the number 1 video for something like 22 weeks in a row.

But I miss those early days, when "Night Tracks" was what I had to guide me in this brave new frontier. For those of us who rocked back then, I salute you!!!

I'm not dead! I'm not dead!

And as a matter of fact, I do feel happyyyyyyy, I feel happyyyyyyy!

Just busy lately. And I might see daylight come next weekend. Ooops -- better run. Maddox has decided that a fork makes a good chewtoy. EEEK.

Real panic at the disco....

The other night, my brother was listening to internet music -- not sure if it was a station or he was just scouting Rhapsody, but he had on Dolly Parton's "Two Doors Down." Oh, he thought it was a hoot .... and about fell out when I said, "At least it's better than her disco song." (And you get extra bonus points if you can name the song -- and no Googling it either!)

Let us go back about 30 years or so. Sometime between 1977 and 1979, everybody and his brother hopped on the disco bandwagon. The most-often mentioned perp is Rod Stewart with "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?" (to whic my answer is a resounding "You were till then..."), but there were plenty of others. Even if they weren't specifically "disco" songs, they had a disco-like beat. Don't believe me?

The Stones had "Miss You" ... and even managed to beat the dead disco horse a couple of years later with "Emotional Rescue" (which cracks me up and makes me dance too). Elton? Well, there was "Victim of Love" (and not the good Eagles song). Oh yeah, the Eagles too, with the not-specifically-disco-but-heavily-influenced "Those Shoes." Even my beloved Steely Dan did "The Fez" -- which truly was built for the disco age, given its lyrical content.

And the real kicker is ...... I like some disco music.

BTW .... Dolly's song was "Baby I'm Burning" (and it wasn't that great of a song, much as I love Dolly).

Two years ago yesterday...

I lost my childhood friend Tee to breast cancer. I still have trouble forgiving myself for not doing something for her, other than praying for her healing. I probably won't ever be easy on myself over that.

Rest in peace, Tee.

Wrong! Wrong, wrong, wrong!

I was watching CMT's "20 Greatest Southern Rock Classics" -- and guess what #1 was? Betcha can't guess. Oh, come on! You know the song.... that classic opening. Those lyrics that we ALL know.

If you said "Freebird"...... you'd be wrong.

I know. It shocked the hell outta me too. I mean, COME ON! Granted, Skynyrd still grabbed the top spot, with "Sweet Home Alabama." But the ultimate, quintessential, everybody-from-W-to-a-skid-row-bum-knows-it Southern rock song is "Freebird."

I have two reactions to "Freebird," and it is completely dependent upon my mood. If I'm having a crappy day, I'm sick of people and the world, and I hear it come on my radio, I'm apt to grunt loudly (maybe even growl, "Sweet Jesus, UGH!") and change the station. If I'm feeling pretty good, things are nice and mellow or they're excited and happy, and it comes on, then I crank it up and release my inner redneck.

Don't get me wrong, "Sweet Home Alabama" is a classic. But "Freebird" is the classic.

A strange, sad week...

This week, my brother lost a dear friend (too soon), and one of my coworkers lost her husband FAR too soon.

My brother's friend "AC" died Monday from pancreatic cancer at age 62. For me, that's too soon -- I have noticed that as I age, the frame of "older" gets dramatically smaller. AC had been diagnosed during football season, and really started getting sicker and sicker once football season ended. But even during the season, as time went on, my brother and his friends realized that this was AC's last football season, and it was so overwhelming and so sad, they just couldn't think about it. My brother had planned to call AC's wife on Monday to see if he could go by and visit that night -- only to first get the voice mail he didn't want to get. He went to AC's funeral yesterday, met the other members of his family and all their tailgating buddies. He said it was quite touching -- and that when they folded the flag and played Taps, he nearly lost it. I would have too.....

As for me, I got to work Wednesday to hear that "Hank" (husband of my coworker "Jan") had died at age 27. Now, if 62 is too young for me, imagine when someone younger than you passes. Hank had also been sick, with a kidney disease that forced him to dialysis every other day. Strangely enough, Hank had just done some temporary work for us that wrapped up just before Christmas -- and I had just filed some of the paperwork we kept on the work. I told my boss it was really weird to now look at the folder with Hank's name and realize that he's now gone. Anyway, Jan's boss sent out a beautiful e-mail telling us what had happened, and how much she personally admired both Hank and Jan for their upbeat attitude and positive outlook, no matter what they were facing. I am not sure if the kidney disease itself got him, or if his body just said, "Enough..." Sadly, he also left behind a young child from a previous relationship. When I got to the visitation last evening, his little child was there, and in his casket was the sweetest letter (in a child's handwriting) that said "Daddy, I am going to miss you so much. I know Jan will miss you much too." I had to bite my lip to keep from blubbering....

Sometimes, those sober little reminders are just what we need to help us move forward in life. It's an opportunity to reflect on where we're going, what we're doing, and if it's helpful or harmful -- and what we can do to change things if we don't like it.

So what I'm taking away from the sad events of the week is a re-evaluation of my own attitude and outlook on things. Is what I'm doing helpful, harmful, a little of both, neither at all, and what do I intend to do about improving it?

Seven Years Ago Today...

My dear friends Tal & Sera pledged their lives and their love to each other in a beautiful ceremony -- not a dry eye in the house. I am blessed to have them as friends, and was honored to be part of their wedding ceremony. They came into my life at one of my darker moments, and have been beacons of light for me. To you, my friends, I raise my water bottle in a toast -- to your health, to your lives, to your goodness.

***

It is also a sad day as well. Around the same time that Tal & Sera were leaving the reception ceremony (okay, the faux leaving for the video), a dear friend of mine departed this life in a tragic freak car accident. I wrote a little bit about him on one of my other blogs, two years ago today ......

An Epiphany never passes that I don't think of Fr. Scott Buchanan. Indulge me a moment and let me tell you about him. I first met Fr. Scott at Catholic Campus Club in 1991 at the College of Charleston. There weren't very many of us who met each week -- maybe 15 on a good night, but usually about 12. Scott was one of them. You could not meet a kinder, nicer person that him. When I found out he was going to the seminary, my original first thought was, "Dang! We women NEED more men like him!" and then I amended it to "Dang! Our Church really needs more men like him to lead us!"

Scott studied in Rome at North American College. He had a degree in history, and I think the Bishop was absolutely certain that Scott would continue to review and continue writing about the history of our own diocese. Even as a seminarian, Scott wrote articles for the diocesan paper, which were well-received. When he was assigned to a nearby parish on summer assignment, he would call and visit our priest (who was our chaplain in college) -- and he remained one of the nicest, humblest, genuinely good persons ever.

In 1997, he was ordained and eventually assigned to a couple of small parishes. On January 6, 2001, just after leaving Mass and heading to a house-blessing (if I am not mistaken), he was killed in a freak car accident at a bad crossroads. Neither driver saw the other. I went to his funeral on January 9, 2001 -- and let me tell you, it was a packed house. He made such an impact on people that they turned out for his funeral. In a true show of grace under pressure, his mother addressed the priests before they left the church: "Take pride in being a priest. Scott did."

I have no doubts at all that Scott is in heaven, a saint whom I was honored to know, even for just a short time. So on this day, the day we celebrate the Light of the World being revealed to all nations, I also celebrate just some of the lights that have been revealed to me in my life: Scott, Tal, Sera. On this Epiphany, I will look for the good which present in my world and ask my friend on the other side to remind me to do so. I will continue to pray for him and ask his prayers for me as well. And ask for his prayers of blessing on my friends Tal & Sera.

(Note: OOPS! I can't add -- it's "Seven Years" not "Six Years" as originally typed...... GARRRR!)

Looking back at 2007

'Tis the time of year to reflect on 2007 and to plan for 2008.

In January 2007, there were lots of things I never imagined coming to pass throughout the year:

• Embracing changes at work -- switching jobs within the department, getting two new bosses (and seeing our CFO leave), and looking forward to parts of corporate culture again. I gained more confidence in my abilities, and learned not to fear the unknown so much ... it might just turn out to be a good thing!
• Looking forward to my 20th high school reunion. I always have ambivalence about those days, but I think I've finally made my peace with the girl I was all those years ago, and loving who I am today. I enjoyed speaking with my classmates on an adult level, not reverting back to the old patterns. A lot of my online friends told me that the 10th was miserable for them, but the 20th was better because everyone was settled. They were right. It was fun and I can't believe I'm actually looking forward to the 25th.
• Becoming a pet parent. Maddox came into my life needing a good home. I've given him that, food, medical care, others who love him ... but he has given me far more. I love my "little buddy" and can't imagine my life without him. All of us love him dearly -- and he returns that love every day.
• Doing "Race for the Cure." Sure, I'd planned to do this, but I wondered if I actually could do it. Having Maddox to walk really helped me train -- another of the wonderful serendipities placed in my path. I harbored a hope that I could do it in an hour, and I was only 6 minutes over that. But that's okay -- I have 10 months to work on my timing, and get it under an hour for the 2008 race.
• Reaching both my 100- and 150-pound milestones. I was amazed to hit that 100-pound mark after 50 weeks on the program, and even more astounded to hit 150 pounds gone in just 6 more months (Thanksgiving week). I still have a good way to go to hit my final goal -- and a year to accomplish it!

2008 is going to be good, and I'm going to do all in my power to bring that end about.

And to all of you, my very fondest wishes that all your dreams come true, and that you have enough resources to meet all your needs (and a few of your wants)!

Much love to you!

A Meme from Kate/Susan

Best Album: Raising Sand, Robert Plant & Alison Krauss. Yes, while I have completely enjoyed Long Road Out of Eden (the Eagles), something about Sand has kept me coming back for even more. I'm not sure what.

Best Non-Fiction: Well, I don't know if it counts as "reading" (since I listened to it on Radio Reader), but it's John Grisham's The Innocent Man. I am also going to read Too Late to Say Goodbye (Ann Rule), also heard on Radio Reader.

Best TV Series: You know, I just haven't done that much with TV. If it wasn't football, baseball, "Dog Whisperer" or something else on Animal Planet or TLC, I pretty much didn't watch it. Except for my old fave, L&O:SVU.

Best Fiction: Tie -- Silent in the Grave and Silent in the Sanctuary (both by Deanna Raybourn). And I'm not just saying that because she's on my messageboard. They are actually the best books I read this year.

Best Kids’ Music: I. Don't. Do.

Best Movie: I don't go to the movies. I can't see spending $7 for the probability of getting sick in the cinema.

Best Sign of the Apocalypse: Dustin Diamond actually thinking we'd be remotely interested in him. Period. Oh, and he sucked on CFC IV.

Best Come Back of the Year: Led Zeppelin. Even if it was for just one night.

Best Old TV show you are just getting into: I haven't really.

Best grocery store: My very own Ingles, right here in town.

Best (Summer) Vacation: I didn't go on summer vacay. I took the time but stayed at home for some needed rest.

Proudest Accomplishments this year: Losing ~80 pounds (154 total since May '06). And doing Race for the Cure.

Goals for Next Year: Enjoying each day. Finding something good to celebrate. Looking for goodness wherever it may be.

Most Exciting Sports Moment of the Year: Out of all the ones I've watched? No idea. I've loved so many.

Saddest moment of the year: I don't know.

Happiest Moment of the Year: Spending time with my godchildren, and having them enjoy my company.

The quiet of a Christmas morn...

In December 1993, the "traditional choir" at Santa Bovina church (my old parish) sang with Peatown United Methodist's choir in a two-evening concert series. One of the songs we sang was a gorgeous piece called "Carol of the Manger," which still makes me a little teary-eyed to this day. The final verse (if memory recalls) goes like this:

Mary in the morning, beside the manger
All the shepherds gone, no more angel choirs...
And the future in her arms.

One does have to wonder what happened when the sun came up on Christmas morning -- what Joseph and Mary must have thought. Here they were, a teen mother and her betrothed, with a miracle child announced to them separately by angels. Here they were, stuck in a cave at best, a crude barn at worst, and laying this precious little bundle in the feeding trough because nothing else is available. And in the midst of all this miracle stuff that they're trying to process, here come shepherds -- simple, poor, country people -- wanting to see their baby.

Can you imagine what Joseph might have said at that time? "Our baby? But why? Wait, wait -- you were on the hillsides with the sheep and the skies opened? Great light came through and an angel -- Mary, what IS it with these angels? -- an angel told you that you would find the Messiah in Bethlehem? Swaddling clothes ... lying in a manger? Well, yes, that would be us. Oh, and there was an angelic choir alongside? You know, given everything that's happened over the last year, it doesn't surprise me at all. Yes, please, come in ... here he is."

And once the shepherds were gone, and the sun was up, and it was just this tiny little holy family. The hubbub has died down, and it's just them. The first day of life outside the womb for eternity-stepping-into-time and boundlessness-into-physical-space (thanks to Fr. Sandy for the phrases). Reality sets in and the quiet of regular life comes tiptoeing in. A baby who does cry, who pees and poops and yawns and does everything else a baby does.

Of course, there's more to come in the story ... much more. Spread across two Gospels, and the timing is still not quite known for sure. We can take guesses. We know that they were in Bethlehem for a while. We know that he was circumcised on the eighth day, in accordance with the Law. We know that forty days after, because he was a boy-child, Mary was to go to the Temple for purification and to present him. We know that at some point, they were in a house -- so they might have stayed in Bethlehem for Joseph to do some work to earn enough money for the return trip to Nazareth, but who knows? And while they were in this house ... perhaps when Jesus was even around 18 months old or so ... astrologers from the Orient came to find him, unwittingly stopping by Herod's to inquire about the new King. Rut-roh!!! They found him, and gave gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Myrrh? An embalming spice? What the...? Oh well, it brings lots of money.

Mary & Joseph were going to need it. Once again, angels intervene, to both Joseph and the Oriental sages -- Get out now, Joseph -- head toward Egypt. Trust us on this. Hey, magi: Go back home a different way! Herod, in his madness and anger and fear at losing his kingdom, orders all males under age 2 in Bethlehem and the few surrounding hamlets slaughtered. Rounded up and killed for no other reason than insanity.

But before all that happened, it was a quiet morning in Bethlehem. A little cooing, a little stirring, a couple of changes of swaddles, and probably a lot of napping. And lots of pondering. In the quiet, lots and lots of wondering just what all the events of the night before meant, and how it would all turn out.

***

Every major religious festival in this time has a similar theme: light triumphing over darkness. Whether it's the lights of the menorah, the fire of the Yule log, or the light of Christ, it all shares the universal hope for peace and justice.

During this time of celebrating the light, enjoy the quiet of the Christmas morning. Best wishes to you and yours.

Christmas in Crackerbox Palace

A few years ago, one of my friends had read Grisham's Skipping Christmas, and passed it on to me to read. We both were pretty much tired, over, and done with the "Canned Christmas Spirit®." She said to me, "Does this not sound like a wonderful idea in theory?" I loved the book and understood every bit of sentiment in it -- including that desire to "fit in" (when they're hounded by the neighborhood to put up Frosty).

As for me, Christmas really hasn't been the same since about 1981. Oh, the traditions stayed the same, but the location and ambience changed, and there are moments I'd give anything to whisk back to around Christmas 1977 or 1978. For much of my life, until the mid-90s, Christmas Day consisted of getting up, opening the presents, having breakfast, and then taking one present with me and going to my grandmother's for the day.

At that time, my grandmother lived in this little townhouse-style apartment. It was like a crackerbox -- just a small screened-in front porchlet, a teensy foyer next to the stairs, two medium-sized rooms downstairs, a very oddly shaped kitchen (long and narrow). Upstairs was the lone bathroom, and two bedrooms. Now imagine roughly 30 people crammed into this space. The kitchen barely had enough room for two people to work in -- there was no hope with 4 or 5 people all needing to warm stuff up. The downstairs rooms weren't huge either -- and with Granny's huge Christmas tree, there was even less room. But it was warm, loud, and full of love.

When it came time for dinner, all the adults and older grandchildren ate in the main rooms downstairs. We younger grandchildren ate on the stairs, in age order -- turning in opposite directions so that we could at least see each other. My brother and youngest cousin were always at the bottom.

In 1981, we had it at my uncle's house. Granny had had a stroke earlier that year, and wasn't up to maneuvering in her apartment just yet. In 1982, she had one last Christmas at the apartment. Then my uncle found a nice, one-floor, spacious apartment for her in an elder-complex in his town. My grandmother made sure to nab the activities building for our Christmas celebration each year. That continued until 1994 (if memory serves). That was after Granny moved to the nursing home ... and my aunt used her church's social hall for the dinner.

Granny died in October 1996. We had one last dinner there. It didn't seem right not to have it. We decided to make it the Sunday after Christmas, which was probably one of the smartest things we'd ever done. We had the largest crowd ever. I met some of my cousin's children for the first time; he's in the military and it was the first Christmas he'd ever had a chance to come down to the family dinner.

Then, as things go in families, the good will fell apart, and for the next several years, we had no Christmas gathering. At all. Nothing. In 2001, several of the cousins closest to my age were talking at my cousin's wedding, and we realized how much we missed our Christmas gatherings. None of us really wanted to do anything on Christmas Day itself -- especially given that so many of the cousins are married with kids and have other obligations. But something to mark the season.

So I came up with the idea of meeting in January, once all the holiday hubbub was over. I also figured if we had it at a restaurant, there would be no muss or fuss over who was bringing what, and who would be responsible for whatever. This way, you would show up, bring your money and your appetite, and that would be it. If you couldn't make it, we understood. If you could, fantastic! I'm working on #6 of the January Dinners. I look forward to those, because they're fun, they're drama-free (for the most part), and I love seeing everyone! While I miss those home-cooked meals, I enjoy the family time more.

But it's not the same as the days in Crackerbox Palace.

Of truckstop cafes and other surprises.

Here it is, the weekend before Christmas. A limited amount of Christmas spirit, at least as the retail industry would see it. I did some shopping -- for others and myself. And I have a little more to do tomorrow, and then I am DONE! But you know, I'm having a better Christmas even without all the hype and hoopla.

Today, I went to Atlanta to pick up some citrus fruit from a friend. On the way down, I stopped at a truck stop to pick up some water. I was fairly well impressed. This particular one (part of a national chain) was very clean, didn't smell like forty ashcans, and even had (are you ready?) fresh fruit at the checkout. That's a concept completely foreign to our area's largest convenience store chain. From what my friends tell me, several chains in Georgia carry fruit at their checkout. So I got my apple today too! I plan to write a letter to the owner of the local chain and ask him if that's something he'd consider implementing in his stores.

On the way home, I got in a mood for meat-and-three. If you're not sure what that means, "meat-and-three" is when you get some entree (usually off a list of about 4 or 5 options) with up to 3 sides -- can be veggies, but not necessarily. Well, there's always Cracker Barrel for that type of food, and there were a couple on the way home, but I just didn't want to stop there -- especially given that one of them was located at the Commerce exit.

Commerce, Georgia is home to a buttload of outlet centers. Any other day, it's fairly congested, but for the weekend before Christmas? No way was I even considering getting on that road. So I saw a sign for a couple of truck-stop restaurants a short distance away. One was a different location of the chain I'd visited that morning. So that gave me hope that I might get something fairly healthy.

My father drove a truck for about a year when I was in my teens -- and he loves truckstop cafes and Waffle Houses. Awful Waffles have their place, but not exactly my favorite eatery. It has to be before 11 AM or after 11 PM before I'll consider the Waffle. Daddy loves the places that aren't normally on everyone's list of must-eat-here --- not dives, mind you. Just overlooked places. He always said, "You know, if you're ever on the road, you can get a good meal at a lot of the larger truckstops...." I would smile politely and roll my eyes in my head.

But then a few years ago, I'd had a rather nice experience at one. Some friends and I decided to have a late breakfast before we went to an amusement park. The only place that we could find was at a truckstop (a large chain). We were pleasantly surprised -- they had great omelettes! So today I figured, "What the hell? At worst, I can get a salad, right?"

That's exactly what happened. They didn't have a meat-and-three, and the buffet touted on the sign existed no more. But they did have a nice selection -- nicer than you would think. Mel's Diner it was not. Color me very pleasantly surprised! They had a nice variety of appetizers, salads, grilled items (beef and poultry), sandwiches, breakfast stuff, even a good listing of desserts (more than I would have guessed). Even a sugar-free cheesecake -- say what? I ended up getting the grilled chicken BLT salad -- a nice grilled filet, salad mix, tomato, a couple of slices of bacon, olives, onions and even fat-free dressing.

I'm not sure why I was so surprised. Sometimes those off-the-beaten-path places can be the very places you need to be -- and so it was with me today. I did a little shopping but not as much as I'd planned. The mall exit was backed up to the interstate -- there went that. And the outlet exit was not as bad but traffic there is always nightmarish. I would have just about lost my mind today in those spots. Instead, I ended up in a place where I could slow down for a few minutes and enjoy the simpler things: a kind word, good food, friendly conversation.

And one of those little, off-shot places is part of the story behind this season: "But you, Bethlehem-Ephrathah -- too small to be among the clans of Judah -- from you shall come forth for me one who is to be ruler in Israel; whose origin is from of old, from ancient times." (Micah 5:1 NAB) The little places -- exactly where we need to be.

The Innocent Age, indeed

Both Talmadge and Bolivar have written beautiful thoughts about the passing of Dan Fogelberg. I have pondered his passing all week, especially since a friend's husband is battling prostate cancer himself (and if I recall correctly, had surgery this week).

As my own tribute, I've been listening to a nice playlist of his music I put together on Rhapsody. The initial track is "Longer" (which Tal mentioned that I sang in his and Sera's wedding). It was one of my favorite songs anyway, so it was a joy and pleasure to sing that for them. The whole list has been great -- and surely beats the endless barrage of holiday music!!!

I admit that I haven't always been an album person -- I love singles to death, but only about a third of the time am I intrigued enough to get the full album. And so we come to The Innocent Age. Forgive me if you've heard the story before .........

It was spring 1982. WANS-FM came to "Freedom" High School (grades 7-12) and showed a film about the music industry. Lou Gramm of Foreigner was one of the persons featured -- primarily because 4 had been such a HUGE success the previous year. Anyway, I don't remember much about the film except that it highlighted "Jukebox Hero" at the end. And then the DJ said, "I need four people for a trivia contest!" I threw my arms as high as my short 4'11" frame could take them. Other people around me started pointing at me -- "pick her! pick her!" And so they did -- I was the final contestant.

My question: which of these groups has never had a Top Ten hit? My choices .... I forget the first two, but I remember the final two: Van Halen and the Grateful Dead. Okay, I figured that Van Halen had recently (off Diver Down; didn't they?).... so that left the Dead, and I knew somehow that they hadn't. I remembered reading something about it. So I said, "Can you repeat the question?" (quite the little pro, wasn't I?). Everyone laughed, including the DJ and myself. After the repeat I replied, "The Grateful Dead?" ..... AND WON! WOO HOO! My prize: the double album The Innocent Age, on VINYL, by God!

A couple of my friends were like, "Oh girl. You got the booby prize." I knew they were wrong and that I had a treasure. I took it home, and listened to it. I was right -- I listened several times through over a few weeks. I was scared to death to damage the vinyl further, so I put it away and didn't listen except on special occasions. And most of those times, I went back to the singles that I loved -- "Hard to Say," "Run for the Roses" (I'll like it for you, B & T), and "Same Old Lang Syne."

Until this week. In addition to my own playlist, I listened to all of The Innocent Age for the first time in about 25 years. It was as good as I remembered. I also re-discovered a couple of songs that I had liked back then -- the beautiful "Only The Heart May Know" and the title track. I also cyberspun Phoenix a couple of times. Completely beautiful, and I think I'll get the CD of that. I also will be digging out the copy of The Innocent Age that Tal was so kind to burn off my vinyl for me.

And this year, when I decide to take part in "Freedomtown Idol," I'll audition with the song I wanted to use last year anyway ... "Hard to Say."

In pace requiescat, Mr. Fogelberg. Your music was a part of my formative tween/teen years, and I am appreciative of the gift you shared with our world. Like you sang, "I thank you for the music....."