June, 2010

Family / Fishing — 6 Comments
28
Jun 10

Oh, what a tangled mess we have….Or the maddest I have ever been at my son ~ and he with me.

My son.  Late yesterday he asked me to watch him take his bait out. He fishes for sharks. Last week he caught a tiger, bull and two black tips.

He ferries his bait 400 yards out in the Gulf on a kayak. The only thing I ask is that he let someone know when he is taking the bait out. What we could do for him bobbing out there if something happened I’m not sure — but at least we would know he was bobbing out there in his life jacket.  

I thought I was on watch duty — not watch the line duty.  

Turned out he wanted me to hold the line with my hand as the boat when out. That way the drag doesn’t have to be so tight. Tight drag means it’s hard to pull out. Okay — this is what happened.  

The minute I let my hand up  thinking I was set to lose a digit with the razor-sharp line…. 

I saw this and knew that he was going to kill me.

the line started zipping up in the reel and there is absolutely nothing you can do, except look at your 16 year-old who was 200 yards out in the Gulf and know you don’t want to be anywhere near when he saw this on the sand.  

So I left.  

Marching up to the house and waited for him to come in and see it.  

He was going to be furious because he is like me.  

 Most important point lost in all the fury….I didn’t volunteer for line duty.  

Well, there was lots of groaning and moaning. How he’d  just lost $100 worth of line. How his grandfather and 11 year old cousin have no trouble doing  this.  

Volunteering to undo the line, I spied a yellow sandcastle mold. This was going to show him, that you don’t give up and that no matter how terrible things…..  

This was HORRIBLE.  

This is how far I got. I was so cotton-picken insane that when I took this picture my ugly-@*@- feet were in it and…  

 I didn’t even care.  

There the line sits just like that 12 hours later.  

My son hasn’t talked to me much. He still has other fishing reels, but this was his super-duper Stratocaster – PennSenator something or other.  

Wish there was a tidy resolution to this fish tale but none as yet.  

Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to …. do something we should never have been asked to do in the first place.  

So there.

Columns / Latest Newspaper Column — No Comments
25
Jun 10

Gardening 101: Never underestimate chutzpah of a weed.

Build it and they will come.

Before this summer, I didn’t know much about farming. Like how farmers get up at dawn to draw water, pick beans and whisper sweet nothings to their tomato blossoms.

Continue reading →

Food / South / The garden / The southern palate — 2 Comments
24
Jun 10

Pole Beans. Not your average canned vegetable.

The morning's haul.

 

My children have been gone all week. It’s been odd. (Will leave that onion to peel in another post.) 

With all this free time on my hands, after prying myself out of bed in the morning, I get in the garden and poke around. 

Here are the goodies I found yesterday. 

I took all those green beans — pole beans, snap beans, whatever you call them — stringed ‘em, snapped ‘em and put them in the crock pot with a bit of water, salt, bacon and the extra special ingredient, a good sprinkling of sugar. 

Cooked them till they were good and mushy as all southern veggies are supposed to be. 

This was done at the suggestion of Michelle as she healed my torn-up backside the day before. During a most wonderful massage at the hands of Michelle, we talked of our gardens. She mentioned fixing up a bunch of beans in the crock pot (she didn’t add sugar, that was my addition).  Her husband and mother LOVED them, but when she tried them…Eeww! Michelle didn’t like them — at all. 

“They didn’t taste like canned green beans, did they?” 

“No ma’am, they sure didn’t.” 

I got it. There is something so very comforting about canned greens beans. Opening a can of green beans, sniffing that wonderful scent, transports me to school lunches on plastic green trays (with four compartments) at Audubon Elementary. 

Makes me happy. 

But so does the taste of pole beans stewing in their own juice, salt and bit of bacon all afternoon. 

Yum. When those beans have come out of your very own garden ~  that’s just plain good eating. 

And rather surprising for me. In fact, the whole gardening, cooking thing  is quite miraculous where I’m concerned.  Not that I’m complaining being the recipient of a minor miracle, especially one that tastes so good. 

Georgia / South — 2 Comments
23
Jun 10

Jekyll Island. Sometimes you just know you are right.

I spent last weekend on Jekyll Island. Now I have been to St. Simons lots, but only driven around Jekyll one time about six years ago.  Jekyll Island has a storied history. We were staying at the Jekyll Island Club Hotel.  

 

The Jekyll Island Club Hotel has its roots in the 1880’s, when the world’s richest and made it their winter home, forming the Jekyll Island Club.  

J. P. Morgan, William Rockefeller, Joseph Pulitzer and Marshall Field. The membership possessed one-sixth of the wealth of the entire world. They built the club, and then a colony of little “cottages,” many of them in the 7 to 8,000 square foot range.  

We were there for the Georgia Press Association Annual Meeting, more specifically the dinner and awards ~ for I love placards, amulets and the like.  

That’s my barometer for choosing half marathons. Do they hand out finisher’s medals?  

I was there to pick up a nice finisher’s medal and we decided to stay a few nights.  

One bit of conversation my husband and I had all weekend was proposed development for the island. Right now 65 percent of the island is a nature preserve, development only allowed on 35 percent.  

Lots of controversy over the development, but for now due to economics - looks like plans have stalled. Even if a point is moot — why miss out on a lively discussion (all weekend) with your mate?  Hubby, like good entrepreneur, thinks land should be allowed to find the highest value for the owner.  

I agree completely ~ with lots of exceptions.  

Jekyll Island quickly became one of the exceptions after tooling around on bicycle with friend and seeing the stunning landscape.  

  

The next day, Hubby and I tooled around for hours on bikes. Felt rather like  a honeymoon in sense that there were lots of pictures of me standing in front of things and shots of him edging up to some ruin. No children and never anyone around to take a picture of us together ~ except lots of water fowl, deer and bunnies.  

 

I could not get over the trees. The old, old live oaks, their limbs straining from the weight of Spanish moss.

Unbelievable.

Half way through riding the trails of seaside wilderness, my husband just said, “You are right.”

Sometimes a land’s highest value is not a strip mall with grocery and t-shirt shop. Or luxury high-rises.

“You’re right.”  Unbelievable.

Not really. He’s a pretty smart fellow.

Life in Madison / Marriage — No Comments
16
Jun 10

It had to be done.

My husband and I disagree on lots of things, but one issue comes along every two or three years. 

The smilax screen on our porch that must be killed — so a new green, beautiful screen can take it’s place. 

This should be done every April, but my husband hates the thought of it. We live on a very busy street and part of his enjoyment of being on the porch is tied to the smilex that weaves it’s way through the decade’s old rusty iron screen. 

There is only one problem with this. After a year or so, the deep down smilax gets strangled by the other vines and dies. 

Leaving brown ugly dead. 

Here’s our marital conflict. My husband would rather have brown, ugly, dead cover than no cover. 

I (though not usually a slave to aesthetics) can’t stand the dead leaves. 

Every two years or so when I can’t take it anymore I cut, hack, get scratched and scraped to the max and strip it bare ~ so beautiful new green vines can cling on the rusty iron. 

Yesterday was D-Day after dear hubby drove off.  (This is what he gets for leaving me alone with the children all day.) 

 

I kept pulling and cutting and finally…. 

All done.

 

We got a great rain last night so hopefully that smilex up early this morning eager to climb. 

Sometime you got to do dirty work when hubby’s gone. He’ll thank me. 

Maybe not tonight, but he will. 

June 15 ~ the day the hedge came down. Let’s see how long it takes. 

Wonder if he’ll speak to me before then?

Columns / Latest Newspaper Column — 1 Comment
16
Jun 10

Summer Vacation ~ if there’s no recording, nothing can ever be proven.

Daydreaming at the computer, I wasn’t surfing the usual suspects: Twitter, Facebook or 105 ways to cook zucchini. I was looking over Orbitz and Expedia trying to find the best single occupancy rates for a week in the Turks and Caicos or for an overnight stay at the Monastery in Conyers. Continue reading →
Music Monday — No Comments
14
Jun 10

Some Men Just Gotta Dance ~ jazz hands and all….

Musical Theater Dance Camp.

That’s where I just deposited my six year-old son.

Joe, along with the musical director’s, Katie Anderson, son McCormick were the only boys in their age group.

A year ago, I probably wouldn’t have been dropping him off, but for the last six months he has been taking hip hop ~ and loving it.

Joe can move.

I recognize this because I’m a mover too.

Last weekend at the AWESOME Randall Bramblett concert at the Cultural Center, I couldn’t help but move in my seat. You hear good music; you move. It’s reflexive.

By the way, in my son’s hip hop class this year there were four boys and a girl.

In talking with Katie and Pointe of Grace business manager, Carol Anderson, we came up with lots of great examples of men we love to watch dance. Gene Kelly, Baryshnikov and Christopher Walken. Carol remembered Patrick Swayze and John Travolta.

Long belong strutting the floor in black suit with Uma Thurman, I remember the John Travolta in white three-piece suit. I so wanted to sneak into the theater to witness Saturday Night Fever ~ just to watch him dance.

Most women wouldn’t refuse a turn with a man who knows his way around the dance floor.

That kind of dancing takes training and study. No matter the ratio of girls to boys in your class.

Christopher Walken, freaky evil guy in movies — the man who wanted “more cowbell” and more recently portrayed  ”Colonel Something or other” on SNL  — started out as a dancer, training in musical theater.

You don’t believe me? Just watch this if you haven’t seen it.

Or watch it again if you have, it’s that great.

Some men just gotta dance…Thank goodness.

Columns / Latest Newspaper Column — No Comments
10
Jun 10

Dear Mrs. Hunter, each night Riley and I still look for your light.

Mrs. Evelyn Hunter passed on from this world. A week has gone by and it’s starting to sink in a bit. It was inevitable she leave us. We all do. Birth. Life. Death. That’s the way of things.

Continue reading →

Life in Madison / Running — No Comments
5
Jun 10

The 2010 Torture Trail ~ My maiden voyage running through the countryside of Eatonton, Georgia.

I always wanted to do this race. Everyone says how hot and hard it is…
 
How hot and hard could it be? I’ve run the Peachtree well into the double-digit number of times and that is July 4.
 
We left Madison in a fog ~ 100 percent humidity ~ or at least it felt like it. But once it broke, it was a beautiful morning.
 
We checked in and got our numbers. My number was 114. The best number ever.

I did make it to the porta-potty. And upon exiting, heard a “Jamie Miles” from the back of the line. It was my neighbor, Rob Jones and fellow freaky-fast guy, Rodney Whitaker.

My son and I were running the 10K for the first time, so we asked Rob for advice. He said, “The last mile is a gradual up hill and then a steep hill back into town. So save some.”

No sweat.

After the race I went looking for Rob…to ask why he didn’t mention all the other monster hills in there? Or that the entire race was a rollercoaster?

Then I went looking for some ice cream. Yes, they do have ice cream at the finish…Yay.

And I heard another, “Jamie.”

We found her hubby, Dennis and another Madison face…Steve Rom. And sorry ~ I talk way, way too much during these things.

Dennis and Steve (like Rob Jones) had great race times though the dress handicapped Rob.

It was a great family morning.

Look forward to running the beautiful hills and streets of Eatonton next year.  In spite of all my protests…..if it wasn’t a bit hot and hilly I would have been terribly disappointed.

And I got the great shirt. Which is why I do these silly things in the first place.

Faith / Free-for-all-Friday / God Found in the Everyday — No Comments
4
Jun 10

The Lucky Ones. I’m even worrying about the jellyfish.

Photobucket
I used to think they were the unlucky ones. The sea creatures at aquariums.    

Ones caught and sentenced to a life circling around and around in a bathtub.    

Lately not so sure.     

This could turn into a rant on the greed of oil companies and greed of us ~ but no.    

It’s about the beauty of the jellyfish. Most have seen them washed up on shore all drying and sticky. Our inner child still whispers, “If I touch it ~ will it sting?”    

I’ve swam through jellyfish at that silly triathlon each August. Last year no jellies :) , but three summers ago there were tons. Got one right across my left check (face). It felt like a switch across my other set of cheeks long ago ~ probably for disobeying my mother in a manner my children do every day with no consequence.    

It stung ~ for a while. Got stings on ankles, arms, all over.    

Here’s a picture of the picture of me leaving the water after that swim.    

Not fun.

Not pretty picture. I look in pain and mad. Well, might not look mad, but I was mad because I thought I’d tanked the swim because of the jellies.    

Here they are in the nice blue of the Georgia Aquarium on Wednesday.    

    

Beautiful.    

I can’t see them whether in a manufactured sea pit or from my son’s kayak without thinking how beautiful they are in their environment.    

How graceful, how unearthly.    

Then to see them up on the shore…they look…well, pitiful.    

Find your inner jellyfish.  Where are you nothing but fluid motion? Your brain just flows ~    

When not there, you are just a sticky pile of goo on the sand.  

Like living immersed in the Holy Spirit. I guess…    

Fluid.   

Find the environment, where you flow.   

And could BP find a flippin’ way to stop that expletive gusher?