XLo05's 73rd birthday card

“Chickie, my chickie, my craney crow”
The children mark off a space for their home; the old witch comes along, and they follow her, chanting, “Chickie, my chickie, my craney crow went to the well to wash her toe. What time is it, old witch?” The witch answers, “Six o’clock” (any time she chooses). They repeat the whole until she says, “Twelve o’clock,” whereupon she tags as many as possible and puts them in her home. The whole thing is repeated until all children are tagged. The last one caught is witch for the next time.

Hula girl

Meet hula girl, my new bff, from my new favorite coffee shop in downtown Monroe.

My muse (bottom right corner)

My new boyfriend

It doesn't matter that I don't know his name, whether he uses trans fats in cooking, or even whether he's available; I'm in love with a chef. I mean, just look at him. Have you ever seen anything any cuter? When Alberta and I were wandering the streets of Athens Saturday night looking for an art store, I saw him and told him I just had to take his picture because he was so handsome. I'm thinking--pesto with pignolia nuts, the smell of foccacia baking, being served cappucino on Saturday mornings, Puccini playing in the kitchen. Yeah, I'm feeling it. Don't tell me I'm living in a fool's paradise.

Mistakes you make at the beach

Things that don't seem like mistakes at first often are when you are on vacation. I'm not talking about the obvious (just in case, don't forget the spf 50 on your face, feet, and ears).


Maybe overtanning; I've seen a lot of that. But other things that seem perfectly normal at the beach make you delete your travel photos off your digital camera quicker than a sand crab scuttling into its hole. Wearing a bright red Hawaiian shirt or a towel coiled on top of your head because you forgot your hat, for example. Or a red bikini (you're a man in this scenario).



It is incredibly tempting to collect as many seashells as you can put in a plastic bag from the Bi-Lo, which happens to have an excellent wine selection, so you might already have more bags than you can use for wet swimsuits anyway, another potential pitfall. But what are you going to do with those seashells when you get home, once you have one glass bowl full of them on the table in the dining room? I give myself the edict that I can have no more than I can carry in one hand, and when I'm over the limit, I take a picture of the shell instead.

I cheated just once when I found a large scallop shell I could use as a soapdish at home--I dropped my fragment shells into it and carried it from the top with all five fingers, which was the only way I could hold it with one hand. You can see it in the picture of Alberta's feet, next to my beach chair.

One thing you will almost certainly do is eat too much fast food when you're on the road.
Don't worry, these beaches are made for walking, and that's just what you'll do, walk, dammit, until you look good in your swimsuit. My strategy is to fix my eyes on the farthest condominiums from our boardwalk and walk till I get there, even though on the beach what I estimated a half-mile is really about three. It's excellent to fool yourself that way and burn up six times the calories, as long as your companions don't get sweaty and tired and go back to the beachhouse for a shower and lunch.

Souvenir stores affect people differently--I find the bright windows veritable sirens, while Alberta is horrified by them. Who could pass up three beachtowels for $10? But then you read the sign for a free hermit crab with every purchase and you see Alberta is right.

Of course, you can use our vacation as a warning. Or if you're especially alert and disciplined, you might have already realized the countless opportunities for screwing up at the beach. But if you're lulled by the soothing sound of the waves and the crumbly texture of sand under your fingertips as you lie under the July sun, it's only when you get home and unload the gritty towels and throw the "Myrtle Beach 2008" t-shirt in the laundry. When did I ever plan to wear 6-inch flourescent letters on my front, you wonder.Then it's too late.

But those mistakes aren't irreparable,not unless you succumbed to tattoo temptation. Even if you did that, there is a purple Jesus in Rains, South Carolina, and so be sure to pull over on the way back and ask his blessing.

Even then if you were given the choice prior to the trip, when you were thinking soberly, before you fell victim to sun and the wine selection at the Bi-Lo, wouldn't you still eat the fried shrimp and she-crab soup with probably a cup of cream in it, have the watery Happy Hour margarita,and snap up the towel bargain at Happy Jack's?

Yes you would. If you would have done it any differently, you'd be with the Outward Bound crowd or the Lonely Planet travelers in Costa Rica saving the rainforest, and it's too late for that. You and I are are not nearly that serious.

We do have some other holiday snaps; no, not the Monty Python kind of holiday snaps. Alberta, Susan, and I documented vacationers who, years if not decades past adolescence, threw ice cubes to attract each other in a public restaurant and paid for one buffet platter but got four plates of crab legs. We're saving those, however. We're sure the photos are our ticket for admission to Quantico, where we will reveal our ideas for a Special Buffet Surveillance detail, of which we will be the chief operatives.

Meanwhile, you go ahead and opt for excess. It'll be fine.

Condiments awaiting Fourth of July celebrations

My orange and yellow house

Now that it's summertime

Well. I know I embody the Greek ideals of proportion, but I just thought I'd throw on a string of electric lights, too...

Blue beach bike

I've been tagged by Alberta

As part of Alberta's sinister ploy to make me blog more, she has tagged me. As I understand it, I must answer the following six questions, tag 5 other people,and then pour gasoline on a household object, fling it into the air, and shoot it like a clay pigeon.Okay,the last is my own innovation, but it IS Memorial Day and here we are without any fireworks. Fine,Alberta, here goes:

Here are the rules:
1. Each player answers questions about themselves.

2. At the end of the post, tag 5 people by posting their names.

3.Go to their site/blog and leave a comment telling them they've been tagged. Invite them to your site/blog so they can read the tagged post.

4. Let the person who tagged you know when you've completed your tagged post.
You have to answer these 6 questions:

What were you doing ten years ago?
What are five things on your to-do list?
What are five snacks you really enjoy?
List some places you've lived.
List some bad habits you have.
Name some jobs you've had.

1. What were you doing 10 years ago?
Like I remember.Amaryllis and Magenta were four, so I'm guessing that writing their names on masking tape and sticking it on their backs every day because their day care workers could never tell them apart took up a good deal of my time. Also that year, I learned to use desktop publishing programs, researched landlord/tenant laws in order to deal with the psychos I rented from. On the positive side, that was the year I found I loved opera late at night with all the lights turned off, found the perfect green to paint the living room, and refinished the hardwood floors.

2. What are 5 things on your to-do list?
Hike up Stone Mountain, sell my house, learn to hand-tint photographs, take the god-awful silver polish off my toenails, buy a bike and ride it, go to the Dalmatian Coast. Is that 6?

3. What are 5 snacks you really enjoy?
Weight Watchers ice cream bars if Mr. Alberta hasn't eaten them all, Wheat Thins, lemon gelato, bananas, coffee.

4. Name some places you've lived.
south central Mississippi; New Orleans; near-Memphis, Tennessee; Georgia; under the bush across the street with my imaginary friend Linda (but that was a long time ago)

5. Name some bad habits you have.
Denying reality, making excuses, being too exacting with Amaryllis and Magenta, putting on lipstick while I'm driving, being shy.

6. Name some jobs you've had.
Wrapping gifts, baby-sitting, working for a newspaper, PR photographer, motion/efficiency research in a Pringles factory, waiting tables, weeding for a mail-order nursery, teaching GED math/life skills (basically calculating how much you can spend at Target if items are on sale AND you have a coupon), Alternative radio station DJ, filing transcripts, hardware salesperson, teaching English, and modeling.

Yes, I WAS a model--Bennett George took my picture sitting on the grass inside a ring of mushrooms and put it on the cover of the alumni magazine, mostly, I think, because I had long hair and a flowy white dress and he was probably high. That's it for the jobs, but I fully plan to become a published (and paid) writer.

5 people I plan to tag:
Magenta and/or
Amaryllis
Yellow Chicken
Funto
Maggie
Hannah