Muses

Wondering Why Alaska and Florida Decided to Switch Places.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all.” Okay. I don’t care about being the fairest. Overly fair skin is the crux of the problem.

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The Atlanta ING Half Marathon. A Hill-acious Good Time.

This is one EKG you'd like to see flatline.

Yesterday, I overcame serious stuff messing with my head. 

For the past two years, I signed up for the ING Half Marathon, drove into Atlanta the day before to pick up my race packet  ~ and slept in race morning. 

The weather the last two years had been horrible. Freezing rain with wind. 

Race morning I got up in plenty of time, pinned my race number on, left the house and realized…I completely underestimated the time needed for parking, Marta, porta potty, gear check-in and getting to the corral on time. 

Then driving over the train tracks on Hwy 278 out of town, I realized I didn’t have my race watch. 

Panic. 

It was so late, I decided to conquer this too. Left watch.

After sprinting to the start… 

I began running up hills. We ran up every hill in Atlanta. There never was a downside to these hills. 

Running  past the Martin Luther King Memorial, we turned a corner and met a huge hill. 

 Auburn Avenue = hill. Turning on to the Carter Center Parkway = long hill. Euclid heading into Five Points = long hill. 

My iPod saved me from total meltdown. No watch, no iPod and hills = headcase, did not finish. 

Irony of the race. At halfway point, “Halfway Gone” by Lifehouse came on iPod. Okay, it really started at the beginning of mile 6, but I played it twice. 

Next song was “More than a Feeling” as in Boston. At this point around mile 7, Half marathoners split from Fulls. Not “feeling it” today, thank God I turned left with the Halfs. 

But starting down Highland, the feeling became nostalgic. We entered an area that thankfully, looked so much the same. 

Manuel’s Tavern, still there. Thank God. 

Crossing Ponce, I held my breath and looked left. The Majestic, still there. Thank God. Johnny and I ended up there with friends at 2 a.m. the night we met. We sat on the same side of the booth. 

Atkins Park, still there. 

The American Roadhouse, still there. Many breakfasts. We ate there Monday, September 6, 1993. I told the waitress this time tomorrow I would be  holding my baby. She looked at me. The doctor was inducing labor the next morning — the day after Labor Day. 

Running past the Roadhouse, there was an overwhelming urge to pull the door open and smell those potatoes. 

Then we ran down to Piedmont Park… 

Up tons more hills. Turning on North we started through Georgia Tech running by the Lamda Chi house which I saluted as a former lil’ sis at SMU.  Running two sides of Bobby Dodd Stadium. North Avenue = hill. Turning onto Techwood = hill. A few more hills…

To the finish. 

I got my medal, got on the train and started the trek back to Madison. 

I conquered those hills yesterday. And I conquered the heck out of my head. Darn it. 

“Find Me a Four-leaf Clover Quick. I Just Knocked off a Ladybug.”

 Who doesn’t need a little Luck o’ the Irish? 

 Today I noticed a wee ladybug resting on our storm door. Dear sweet things, they don’t bite or sting and are so pretty to look upon. Finding one is good luck. I picked her up for who doesn’t want good luck crawling all over them? (more…)

A deadline. Please pass the laundry detergent.

Deadlines.

It’s amazing how much laundry gets done when there is writing to do.

Anyone reading this regularly knows I’d rather vomit 48 straight hours than do a load of laundry. It’s top of my time waste list.

Except when there’s work to be done.

I could sit here and analyze why I wash and dry and fold when I need to be writing.

Those truths must remain locked deep in my subconscious for another time and a professional. Today I write.

I’m setting a goal. First draft done before I can get up. Before fingers removed from keyboard.

This does not include reheating coffee. For my body must  function to write.

Potty breaks must coincide with reheating coffee.

I can do this.

Here’s to a very green productive day and piles of stinking gym clothes over my left shoulder.

When, oh when, does rainy Intercession end?

I’m not a violent person.

But rain-filled days with my children, parents, in a small house and Internet service from 2005 (hence the lack of any blogging or pictures with blogging this week) ~ has driven me there. Or just this side of Albuquerque close.

I sit here trying to write.

My daughter just came in and sitting incredible close ~ asked, “Can I blog?”

I might become violent.

Now, reading the sentences about her coming in…She is trying to correct my sentence structure.

HELP!

She asks…”Can I Twitter?”

No.

“Can I Twitter or can I blog?”

I’m remaining calm.

“Mama ~ are you going to write down everything I say?”

Yes.For I am about to go batty!!!!!!

She reads last sentence. “What does that mean?”

When, oh when does Intercession end?

 She comments on her dry skin.

 What about my drying brain tissue? Is anyone besides me concerned about that?

I’m going to find the lotion and something to drink.

Her parting words to me gesturing lightly to my chin…”Let’s turn that frown upside down.”

Alright ~ that made me less violent for the moment.

A Perfect Start to a Springtime Break.

The first official night of Intercession break deserved a celebration.

Some-mores!

This is also a very good way to get the children to pick up all the sticks that litter the yard.

I sent them off with the Radio Flyer wagon, and they came back with loads of sticks.

We started a fire and WOW those little dry sticks became a huge conflagration.

Don’t tell anyone ~ but I started scanning the back for the hose just to make sure it was close. But soon enough, the flames settled down and into the perfect marshmallow roasting fire.

Some-mores for dinner! What a great way to start a school springtime break.

Later in the evening my 6 year-old said, “Mommy, don’t ever give us some-mores for dinner again. I need something more for dinner.”

Alright then, Mother-of-the-Year plummeting into a Twitter #momfail moment.

Actually, that’s a most fitting way for a week off of school with the children to start.

Happy Intercession.

“Where’s Jake?” Hmmm.

Today, was a family day. Well, minus our eldest.

I got up very early and ran 15 or so miles.

Came home and my husband said, “I had no idea where you were. Jake is gone…do you know where he is?”

“He went to soccer. Didn’t you take him?”

“No. I just woke up and he and you (stare, stare, stare) weren’t here.”

“Well, he told me he had to be at the school at 7:45. I told him I had an early run scheduled. He asked for my phone to set the alarm. I assumed he’d wake you up and you’d take him.”

“I haven’t seen him.”

Hmm.

And for the first time in my adult life. Well, my adult life since my now 16 year- old son has been born ~ I didn’t know exactly where he was, but I didn’t PANIC.”

Believe it or not, I have an active imagination.

We stumbled upon “Silence of the Lambs” last night and this morning in the pitch and cold walking the dog, it was a brisk walk (and not because it was cold) to say the least.

But I didn’t fret about Jake.

I just knew he bummed a ride to the high school.

Of course, there was that moment in Bishop coming home from Athens at 5:10 this afternoon,  I thought…where the heck is my son? I think he has been all day at a soccer tournament ~ but what if? I thought I’d call another mom who was probably at the game.

Then I remember I signed “the pledge” not to call or text.

I didn’t call.

And he came home an hour later…by himself.

He’s growing up. He can figure these things out by himself. How wonderful.

I’m so happy.

I think. This is normal right?

The Great Hang Up. No MoTexting 4 Me. (While driving.)

John Michael Robinette helps with the Hang Up effort.

Halley Hudson, a freshman from Pepperell HS in Floyd County signed the pledge and wanted to take a sheet home for her mother to sign, “Because she won’t stop texting and driving. She drives with her knee,” said Halley.      

Drives with her knees. Okay. I’ve never done that. Well, maybe a few times when my cell phone rang while I was holding a cup of coffee. All of a sudden, it’s uh oh ~ I’ve got a cup in one hand and a phone in the other…Just how am I going to steer this 2 ton piece of motorized machinery?         

Yesterday, my son was helping with the effort when I showed up a little before noon.         

My son. I wonder if he looks this interested in class?

I read over the document very carefully, and signed.            

“I understand that driving while distracted is dangerous to me and to others on the road.   

Understand: “To perceive and comprehend the nature and significance of.”  

Now, I didn’t get to talk to many Morgan County students because I got there just as a herd of freshman had been ordered to class,  but here is another quote from a Pepperell HS student. Sophomore Dayne Elrod admitted he won’t stop texting and driving. When asked how much he texts while driving he said, “about everyday on my cell.” He said he pretty much does it the whole time he’s driving.    

Unfortunately, MCHS know all too well, the consequences. Last December, a 2009 graduate of Morgan County, Caleb Sorohan was killed in an accident caused while he was texting. The school is selling bumper stickers in Caleb’s memory to help all remember how tragic the consequences can be.  

So I signed and did really well yesterday. Though my hand was itching as I approached the square with all the after school traffic backing up.  

 Green rubber bands serve as a reminder…NO TEXTING or CALLS while driving.         

Now I know it’s hard.  Waiting in my driveway to pull out I see semi-truck drivers holding out their phones texting. This morning I saw a guy in an Expedition turning by the post office looking at his phone extended — texting. I’ve seen many of you driving with that cell up to your ear.   

I’m a writer ~ not a talker. I don’t talk a lot on my cell, but this texting, tweeting stuff is near and dear to my heart.    

As a parent, with this issue — and any issue — if you’re gonna talk the talk, you’ve got to walk the walk.  My children are watching ~ our children are watching.         

The stakes are so high.  Is any message, email, phone call that important that it can’t wait 5 minutes? And if the answer is “yes,” take the time to drive 50 yards and pull off the road. Is this that hard?         

Remember if you’re gonna talk the talk…just be sure to not to do it while in DRIVE.         

I only tell you this because I care.

I want you all to be here for a long time.

After 25 Performances, the MCT is a Living Monument ~ Under a Master Gardner’s Care.

The Sky’s the Limit. A Chat with MCT’s Kathleen Bryant.

Last week, I sat down for a moment with Kathleen Bryant, Artistic Director of the Madison Community Theater. She is quite the busy woman. We talked during her lunch break at Morgan County Middle School where she is the drama teacher. This school year, Bryant was named system-wide Teacher of the Year.

Okay, how did all this start: The MCT was incorporated in 2005, but we started in 2002. We started under the name Children’s Community Chorus. Our first show as “The Tale of Three Trees.” It morphed from there. Our Board decided to change the name to Madison Community Theater to include all ages, especially the older children. Shortly after we changed the name, we got non-profit status. 

After 25 performances, is this what you envisioned when you started: Honestly, I went to a very large Methodist Church in Louisville, Kentucky. They always had a children’s musical camp. They produced a children’s musical that was Christian-related. I thought ~ I’m going to do this in Madison. For several years, we just did a summer show. It was crazy, working everyday, all day for two weeks to pull it together. But there was such interest, we added more shows.  We have evolved into having an actual season with a straight play in the fall, big musical in the winter, sometimes something smaller in June, then a July camp.

So if  wasn’t a vision at the beginnging, could you articulate a vision now? “The Sky’s the Limit,” we always tease. We have so little as far as space. We don’t really have a theater. WE don’t really have the technology that the other counties have, but we pride ourselves on finding a way to make whatever we need to make on stage happen ~ happen. We’ve had flying people, pyrotechnics, minimal sets and elaborate ones. It doesn’t matter where we are or what we have ~ the skies the limit.

You’ve given so much of yourself to this program for a number of years, why? What drives me in this whole thing is finding good stories and presenting it to the community. Growing up in Moultrie, Georiga, we had a very developed Fine Arts and Cultural Center program, but we had to wait till high school to do anything. There was nothing for kids. This is a theater program to open the door for younger kids. The vision is to keep the door open for younger kids.

What is your theater background? My training is vocal and performing, so I come to this as a performer. But anytime I go to an International Thespian Society (ITS) or InternationalTheater Association I am in training and going constantly to any professional workshop I can to learn. All that has helped me grow as a director.

It is not about becoming a star; it’s about personal growth on stage. Building something that is maybe bigger than somethings they could do by themselves. To see young people develop is unbelievable.

Check out the MCT website http://www.mctheater.org/.