Life in Madison — 2 comments
16
Aug 10

Location, location, location. The key to selling real estate and lemonade.

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Lemonade stands. The last bastion of childhood entrepreneurs everywhere.

I never had much luck with them. Guess that’s why I didn’t pursue a degree in business.

First you have to manufacture the product. Market it. Then sell the heck out of it. 

My daughter had begged to have a stand for weeks. She had a friend over this weekend so I let them run with it. Giving them the go ahead was like waving a red cape before the bulls charging into Madrid’s Plaza de Toros de Las Ventas.

Alright. They look innocent enough. But behind those demure smiles beat the hearts of Steve Jobs and Sam Walton. My son the artist looked at their success and started making braclets to sell. They didn’t sell.

But those girls moved the lemonade.

I got them started by mixing up a gallon of Crystal Light. That was all I had but thought surely that will hold them for an hour.

Five seconds. I double pinky swear. It only took five seconds for the first car to pull up.

I looked. And I looked again. There was someone out there.

Michelle Robinette ~ first customer..

Then another car stopped. Then another.

Kathryn Cardwell and Mary Claire.

Fifteen minutes and the gallon was gone. I gave them a jug of lemonade made a few days ago that was in the fridge while I ran to the store.

I went back another time for more cups and ice.

I finally had to drag them in after 5 p.m. ~ three hours after they poured that first glass.

They made over 40 dollars and donated over half to the church.

The only piece of advice I gave them was sell low. They did and sweet people paid high.

That’s the beauty of a small town. And a killer location.

Any former lemonadenistas out there?

Columns / Latest Newspaper Column — No comments
10
Aug 10

Take It From a Pro…Do Not Go in There.

 “Please don’t drink anymore coffee,” pleaded my daughter. 
 “If I don’t…I can’t stay awake. And then we shall perish.” 
 
Family / Life in Madison — 3 comments
05
Aug 10

First Day of School.

Things were on schedule the first day to get out the door on time. Then I remembered to take a picture.

Isn’t that covered in the How To Be a Parent With No Regrets Handbook?

Always photograph your child on the first day of school.

Here are the two little ones before we hopped in the car.

Joe picked this location and wanted to be hugging the little tree.  (A little fir that miraculously escaped death this summer from the heat after looking as if he had been singed by some ferocious forest fire.)

Two things are evident in this picture. They genuinely seem happy about school starting and they dressed themselves. Don’t they devote an entire chapter on that in the How To Be a Parent With No Regrets Handbook?

Notice the beach chairs. I have yet to put them in the garage after returning from the beach this weekend. Laziness? Could be…but more likely a silent statement that even though school might be in session on the calendar, I refuse to give in on summer yet. I’ll show them. (Who, I’m not exactly sure. Not like I can stop the earth from tilting on it’s axis away from the sun – but I can still protest.)

Then here is our 16 year old leaving yesterday morning.

He has that racing-away-from-the-paparazzi look.

I clearly told him to wait for me to get my camera. At that point, he started to run.

So there you have it…Snap away while you can.

Another school year has begun.

Next year I’ll try the sports action mode on my camera.

I show him.

Running — No comments
03
Aug 10

You’ve Got to Have Goals…even flexible ones.

I decided on a new goal today. 

I’m not signing up for a marathon this season. (Personal decision maybe to be explained in later post.)

There are a few half marathons this fall/winter — just signed up for today. The Atlanta 13.1. Where the party meets the pavement or at least that’s what they advertise. We’ll see…..

No triathlons this summer.

I needed a goal.

After much careful thought and prayer, I decided the next focus of my life should be:

to do a split again after 20 years.

I used to be very flexible as most people under four decades are.

But age and the constant pounding of the running I love so much has made me one very tight rubber band.

Bill Rodgers, the great marathoner and part-time flake, said that for the masters athlete stretching is almost important as continuing in your sport.

“Yes, it’s true you don’t see racehorses stretch. You also don’t see racehorses sit behind a desk eight hours a day, or run on asphalt, or run after being sedentary for the previous 40 years. I don’t see racehorses eating spaghetti either, but that doesn’t mean runners shouldn’t. So maybe when we’re all bred solely to run fast and spend our days trotting around dirt tracks, we can forego stretching. In the meantime, all runners, at least of the human variety, should stretch.” The Complete Idiot’s Guide To Running ~ Bill Rodgers

Since most definitely, either literally or figuratively, I am not a racehorse — I shall stretch.

Stretch my way to a split.

So starting today, August 3, 2010 I am on a quest to do a split once again. We shall see how long it takes.

I’ll even post an after picture as proof. (For I certainly won’t be doing it in public.)

And no before pics. It may come as a surprise but I do still have a shred of self respect.

Life in Madison / Triathlons — No comments
02
Aug 10

Ever think about competing in a triathlon? Just watch…

  

I’m back.

I have been very, very neglectful of my blog. Not intentionally mind you. In mid-July, life just put on Rollerblades.

I’ve been trying desperately to stay upright. Though I did take a nasty spill while running last week at Sandestin. My goofy left foot didn’t clear a slight bump.

For so many years, a group of Madison residents have made it down there in late August to race the Sandestin Triathlon.

Don’t think I’m going to make it this year. But when Joe Cardwell forwarded this Youtube link to a video he put together, I had to share.

If I can do these triathlon things, anyone can. So pick a race and get swimming, biking and running…and remember to keep smiling.

Long live the Cotton-Patch. Hope I’ll be out there next year.

And the last part  really is the E Untold Story. And Joe, whatever you did to my husband’s hair — thank you.

Columns / Food / Latest Newspaper Column / The garden / The southern palate — No comments
26
Jul 10

What’s in a name? That which we call a tomato by any other name would smell as sweet.”

And taste as heavenly.

 Every now and then I fall hopelessly in love. I’ve tumbled hard for a spider, a redbird who chirps relentlessly when I forget to fill his feeder and a squishy pair of flip flops. (The latter being a painful subject having found one recently in my pup’s mouth.)

Continue reading →

Columns / Latest Newspaper Column — 4 comments
09
Jul 10

No worries, Mate. Things are good for at least a year after the expiration date.

Rain beat against the windowpane. A storm at the beach is beautiful to watch with the white dunes, swaying sea oats and churning sea. But pretty is a two hour thunderstorm. The past week, I’d spent way too much time in my bedroom watching a dripping Jim Cantore pace about in a L.L. Bean Weather Channel rain slicker. He might get in a lather about rain and wind at the beach, but try as hard as I could, it didn’t affect me the same way.
The garden — No comments
08
Jul 10

Just when my back was turned….

Haven’t been in the garden much lately. 

It’s horrible.  

I need to be tending to my children.    

Yesterday look what I found.    

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Poor wee thing.

  

What to do?

It’s a baby watermelon hanging by a thread off a cliff.    

Even a greener than Granny Smith farmer like me knows this probably won’t end up well for baby.    

Try as I might, don’t think there is anyway to untangle the vines with out doing irreversable damage to it’s lifeline.    

Only thing now is to wait and watch.    

Only problem is this is who my daughter discovered directly under baby.  

A relative perhaps? 

This guy (or gal) is directly under hanging by a thread baby.   

 Alright. So I haven’t been weeding lots lately. 

If heaven forbid, anything should happen to baby, there is no way Miss Farther-along Watermelon could miss the carnage.   

Too much drama for me.  A mini garden soap opera.   

Guess nature will take its course.   

No telling how As the Watermelon Turns will eventually end –   

My very own horticultural cliff-hanger.   

    

Family / Golf — No comments
01
Jul 10

Miracle Miles Putt-Putt Golf Tournament. I lose…again.

Every year my husband’s family gathers at the beach for a week. That’s not so unusual for a family to gather at the beach.  But every year this crew holds a putt-putt golf tournament for the coveted Miracle Miles Cup.

Picture a dented challis. Don’t have a picture of it for it is still in Charleston. Last year’s winner didn’t bring it.  Guess he thought it wasn’t going anywhere so why bother.

I won a long time ago…and had it in my grasp a few years ago. Only to choke it to a violent death with pitiful putting.

The winner’s name is engraved on the cup and the prize gets to reside with winner all year long….

You see, there are these two guys, the two Jims, who assume they are going to take the cup home every year.

Once the play started, I did okay. Lots of two putts and in…then like always there were holes I tanked…and my chance to take the cup back to Madtown faded away.

This year not unlike years in past, the cup went to a dark horse. Papa Jack. My father-in-law. And if I couldn’t win…Yay for Papa.

I’ve decided on a new strategy for next year.

Learn to golf. (Novel idea, I know.)

Some dear brave friends promise they can teach me to play on a public course  — and not do any injury to myself or others.

We’ll see.

Fore now, I only have myself to blame.

Because I really, really stink.

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.

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