Momnesia

Emmie was the first to get stung. Then Scott, and finally me.

I'm such a dork, I was like, "Cool! I've never been stung by a jellyfish before!"

When Emmie got stung, I freaked out, because I didn't know why she was screaming. She just freaked out and screamed, "Sumpin BITE me!" Of course, I thought: "Shark!"

I grabbed her - float + all - and ran through the water hollering for Scott like a fishmonger's wife, stepped in a hole, almost broke my ankle, fell down, tore my knee open on something in the sand, got back up and kept running - never dropped Emmie.

The lifeguard was more than just mildly amused as she treated Emmie with her spray bottle of vinegar.
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An entire island of distraction on July 4, and this is how we spend our morning

Shoot. Video exceeds maximum attachment size. I'll put it up when we return...
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Emmie wants to watch TV, but we're visiting with our family. I tell her if she'll tell each person in the room a story, then she can watch TV until we go to the pool (in about 10 minutes). She grins, and does it. But I wonder about the significance of the stories she tells to each of us.

She runs over to Opa: "When you was a little boy, I saw your doggie. He was sweet. What was his name?" His name was Pierre. He was a French poodle.

She runs over to Nona: "When you was a little girl, I see your kitty cat. What was his name?" Her name was Angel.

She goes to Scott: "When you was a little boy, I see your bad doggie. He bite me on da on da on da shoulder. " Oh, no, what did you do? "I kick his butt! And he was hurt. But den I gib him a bandaid, and he was happy wif me!"

She come to me: "When you was a little girl, I saw a rainbow. It was beautiful! It likes you. And it tickles me on my neck all da time!"

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We're on our way to Hilton Head Island for the Fourth of July. Emmie is excited about fireworks.

"An' are we goin' play wif spark-a-kers?"

"Yes," Scott and I answer in unison.

"An' is it goin' be magic?" Emmie asks.

"Yes," Scott says.

"No," I scoff. "It's going to be chemistry."

"NOOoo. Daddy said iss goin' be magic," Emmie gloats.

I roll my eyes: "Oh, well, of course that's much more reasonable."

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Scott is watching some crap on YouTube that sounds like Donald Duck being strangled.

"Whatcha watching?" I ask.

"It's Hitler." And so it is - ranting and stark raving mad.

"What's he doing?" I ask.

"He just found out that Michael Jackson died."

...

"... Does he know that HE'S dead?"

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"You a silly, mama. Why you so silly?"

"That's just the way I am, doodle. Never been cool. Probably never will be."

"I like silly. I like you berry mush. But, sometimes, I wish you was a dahtor."

"You wish I was a daughter?"

"NO! I wish you was a DOH-tor."

"A doctor?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Well. So does Wachovia."

"Who's dat?"

"Nevermind. Point is, there'd be some benefits in that. But I'd work longer hours. And I'd miss you."

"I miss you, too. But, if you a dohtor, you could take care ub me when I was sick! An' I not hab to go to da hospital."

"Honey, you haven't been in the hospital since you were born."

"Yeah. But my daddy was berry sick."

(Silence. I don't know how to proceed from here. Is she worried about her father? About herself? Is this idle musing, or a fully-formed train of thought crashing into the station)

"He's not sick anymore, sweetie. He still gets tired sometimes, but we don't have to worry about him anymore. He's all better, and he's not going to get sick again."

Of course, he may very well get sick again, but it's not likely to be TTP again. And I think what she needs is reassurance that mommy doesn't have to be a doctor for her to be safe. I think she may also need for me to take her a little more seriously, just in general.

She sighs: "I know I know." She's heard it all before. Daddy's all better. Daddy's going to be okay. Mommy and daddy are home for good. But those words don't measure up against the sight of seeing your father weakened, bedridden, covered in tubes and surrounded by beeping machinery and medical personnel so sterile that they must sleep in Ziploc bags.

Suddenly, and with a searing pain that makes me thankful for its brevity, I have a crushing vision as to what she might have felt, seeing her father on the verge of death, while her (asshole) mother pawned her off on her grandparents.

I feel like Atlas.

My poor baby!

I don't have any more words. And they don't hold enough meaning for this. Instead, I pick her up and cradle her like a baby. She closes her eyes, smiles, and snuggles into me and sighs softly. We spend a good half-hour in a gentle, silent embrace. After a while, she opens her eyes, raises a soft little hand, and pats my face.

"Danks, mama. You a good mama."

One day, I hope I will be.

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1:30 p.m. - We got our hair did for the wedding at the wonderful Salon Red on the square in Decatur. But they were going through a lot of bobby pins on us. "You know what they should develop instead of bobby pins?" I heard my mouth say before I even realized I was talking. "A hair stapler. So you could just be like, 'How's this? Good? Okay.' KACHUNKA!"

(sigh) Why can't I lose my voice in a tragic shower singing accident?

3:15 p.m. - At the church, getting ready. It's hot as balls, and I'm just trying not to sweat my makeup off or my hair down. Bleh!

3:45 p.m. - Getting dressed for the wedding, one of our relatives couldn't get her dress zipped. That was not acceptable. There was no backup dress, and she was significant in the ceremony. It took 2 of us to get it hooked - and then the hooks popped off and flew across the room! We were so afraid that we weren't going to be able to get it on her, but a last-minute burst of Hulkomania got it up. That would have been Big Drama.

4 p.m. - Photos, and the flower girl is rockin' the good behavior. Did I mention hot as balls outside? Dadgum! There should be a law about taffeta and summer weddings.

6:40 p.m. - Emmie, the flower girl, turned during the ceremony and stage whispered to me: "I hafta go potty!" Ann, one of the readers, who was sitting in the front row, hissed, "I'll take her!" But when I motioned for Emmie to go with her, Emmie said, "No! I don' wanna! If I go now, I'll miss da show!"

6:45 p.m. - During the rehearsal, one of the readers asked, "I can never remember: Is it pronounced Coh-loss-ee-ahns, or Coh-losh-uns?" I told her that I always thought that chapter should be pronounced "CUHLOSHUNS!!!" with accompanying strong-man gestures, like it was a wrestler's name. That was funny until it was time to read the text during the ceremony and all the bridesmaids were trying not to laugh out loud.

7 p.m. - I don't know how this happpened, but 6 other bitches showed up at this wedding wearing the same dress as me! Awkward. They kept showing up all at the same time as me and standing near me in photos... like it was planned, or something.

8:15 p.m. - It was so sad. This woman at the wedding wore a black slip with lace inserts, and no one had the heart to tell her that she had left her dress at home. Or maybe they were secretly filming a Whitesnake comeback video? Judging from her inappropriate dancing, that might be likely...

8:50 p.m. - The ring bearer and flower girl have devolved to running across the dance floor and sliding on their knees. So much for THOSE outfits...

9 p.m. - Two of the groomsmen are "dancing up on" the bride. Um... just... no.

9:10 p.m. - The bartender keeps insisting that I give him a high-five before he'll take my order. I just want some Diet Coke, dude!

9:30 p.m. - My parents take the flower girl home with them. Ahhh... a full night's sleep...

10 p.m. - There are some drunk-ass people up in this joint. The food is all gone, the cake has been cut, and the bar is open. From now, it's a full-on keg party. Without the keg.

10:15 p.m. - Note to readers: It is NOT appropriate for a mother and son to slow-dance together to "Let's Get it On," by Marvin Gaye. No. No. Do not even think about it.

10:30 p.m. - Stick a fork in me! I'm done. Sleepy time!

AUGUSTA, GA. - Trivia: In Atlanta, homicide detectives "earn their hat." When detectives solve their first case, they earn a fedora. You'll see it on the evening news. It's classy, classic, and it engenders respect.

AUGUSTA, GA. - Please nominate Momnesia for Best Local Personal Web Page or Blog, and Scott Hudson for Best Radio Personality, in the 2009 Metro's Best Awards! Click the image or here to vote! And thanks! If we win, we get... a plaque! Woo!

AUGUSTA, GA. - So you remember “Dirty Dancing,” right? That movie where the whole family goes to sleep-away camp and no one is at all creeped out as to why mom and dad are making lanyards? There were some other bits in there, too – something about putting babies in corners and how you shouldn’t do it – but mostly it was a movie about a summer camp. And that camp, Mountain Lake Hotel in Pembroke, Va., was pretty awesome: Big cabins, a well-stocked lake, and tons of stuff for the kids to do… stuff to do besides Patrick Swayze in his hotness years, that is.

Well, Callaway Gardens in Pine Mountain, Ga, high-kicks and double-step-rock-steps all over that camp’s ass.

That’s a bold statement to make: that the beloved 1987- end-of-innocence hit cannot hold a candle to what people think of as a pretty but somewhat tame garden. But after spending a weekend exploring the 13,000 acres with three kids, it’s an accurate statement.

While the “Dancing” crew had a lake, walking paths, and lame-o activities like limbo, Callaway offers a veritable theme-park of activities oriented to the natural world and conservation, but with modern twists to keep everyone comfortable and entertained. For example, the cottages and villas – which are adorable and come with screened-in porches and a charcoal grill – have a full working kitchen and blessedly effective air conditioning.



No sweating over a fire pit, or group dining with people you don’t know. No cha-cha-cha-ing to Lawrence Welk or other sleepy older music while your desert sits forlornly on the table. There is also the Mountain Creek Inn, central to restaurants and shops, or the lush Lodge and Spa that offers a menu of high-end services.


But while the accommodations are well-maintained and sparkling clean, the real draw of Callaway Gardens are the attractions: the Virginia Hand Callaway Discovery Center, Day Butterfly Center, Sibley Horticultural Center, Mr. Cason's Vegetable Garden, Callaway Brothers Azalea Bowl, Overlook Garden, Discovery Bicycle Trail, Pioneer Log Cabin, Ida Cason Callaway Memorial Chapel, golf, fishing, tennis, nature trails and daily programs - like the birds of prey show that features trained owls, falcons and eagles, along with entertaining educational information.

During the summer, your admission to the gardens also includes Robin Lake Beach. But it’s not just a lake beach for swimming. They’ve stocked the water with inflatables for climbing and jumping, and the shore is covered with included activities: paddleboats, miniature golf, shuffleboard, a miniature train, table tennis and Florida State University "Flying High" Circus performances.

It’s often hard to please three kids of varying ages. But our shortcomings always entertain children, so jump into the activities with them. When I ran away from a butterfly that was trying to land on me – they’re really just bugs with good PR – no one could have laughed harder than the children. When it began raining just before the birds of prey show, our trek to the amphitheater turned into a glorious walk through the woods, and over a lily-padded pond – where I promptly slipped and fell on the wooden bridge. More laughter. When I decided to take two of them biking the paved path around the lake, and ended up dragging a 45-pound four-year-old up the gentle hills on a 100-pound tandem bicycle, their encouragement kept me from unstrapping the preschooler and tipping the bike into a ravine. “You can do dis, Mama! I know you can!” she said, as I pushed the steel-framed contraption up another hill. I was sweaty and grumpy and Swayze was nowhere to give me a speech about following my heartbeat. Guh-gung to you, giant bicycle of death.


So not everything is coming up roses (ha, get it? It’s a garden? Oh, nevermind), but the scenery is filled with vignette after vignette of photo-worthy spectacles. The children’s interactive exhibits are educational and entertaining. The inflatables are fun for children of all ages. The motorized tram takes you where you want to go, if you don’t want to bike or walk. The biscuits at the Country Store are delicious – as is the view from the overlook. The shuffleboard is hard – no, seriously; have you ever actually played that game? Does anyone really know the rules? It’s like backgammon with giant squeegees – but we left there with a sense of fulfillment that we didn’t feel after a trip to the giant theme parks. Since no one was getting all up in my dance space, I suspect it was the time spent staying active as a family and enjoying the natural world that made the trip so worthwhile. We were tired from swimming, golfing, biking, hiking, and walking – but we were satisfied. Callaway Gardens doesn’t keep anyone in a corner.

The resort offers a number of vacation packages for the summer: the Mini Break Package, that starts at $129, and the Stimulus Package starts at $99. Call 1-800-CALLAWAY (225-5292) or visit www.callawaygardens.com.

If you go: Leave your fancy pants at home.

Best for: Everyone – except those with severe outdoor allergies.

Don’t miss: The breathless magic of the butterfly house, jumping off an inflatable into the lake, the view from the walking paths

Bring: A camera, comfortable shoes, a towel and swimsuit, sunscreen, bug spray, a change of dry clothes, and a sense of adventure

Admission: Daily Admission Rates are $15 for adults, $7.50 for children 6 and up. Children 5 years old and younger are admitted free. Discounts for military and dependents.

Emmie left yesterday to go to a family reunion in Virginia with my parents and my sister. While I trust those three people with her, and I know that there will be 50 other parents (but few children, since we're all grown up) at the reunion to look after her, it was still hard to let her go.

I gnawed on my nails (figuratively) all day, and called various relatives several times before I left work for the day. But then Scott and I had a leisurely dinner with friends without having to watch her like a hawk or cut up her food or clean up her spills like I had twice at lunch with my parents yesterday, and I found myself relaxing a little.

When I left work, there was no hour of driving to pick her up and bring her home. When I got home, there was no arguing about television, bed time, or pleas for "jus' one more mooches an' hugs."

I lay on the couch and turned on "True Blood," something I usually have to reserve for after she falls asleep. And then it hit me: Emmie's on vacation until next week. So is my boss.

"Hey! I don't answer to anyone but myself right now!" I exclaimed to my husband.

Much to his credit, he didn't respond, "And me."



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AUGUSTA, GA - I pass an incident on Damascus Road and decide to call Scott.

"Thanks, I'll call about it," he says.

"It's probably nothing," I warn him.

"Well, sure, but you're being a traffic trooper."

(Silence) "... Okay, really?"

He bursts into laughter.

"Are you going to pull out a Howdy Doody doll?"

"That's what Harley Drew calls it," he chuckles.

"Whatever. Listen, call me when my secret decoder ring comes in."

"Will do."

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This photo ran on augustachronicle.com. It features our editor, Tom Grant, grinning like the Cheshire cat in the white shirt in the middle. LOL!

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AUGUSTA, GA - So I've picked Emmie up @ her grandmother's house, and we're cruising through Jones Creek Golf Community jabbering to each other. We get to the 3-way stop by the lake, come to a complete stop a moment before red car at the street on my left, and start forward again at a crawl.

The red car, pulling an improperly lit trailer attachment, turns left in front of me, laying on his horn. I stop and let him pass, giving him a brief "honk u" in return. So the dude stops the car and gets out, yelling obscenities.

"Das not good," Emmie muttered.

Y'all know me: I rolled down my window, pointed my Blackberry at him, and said, "What was that, sir? I couldn't hear you." Even though everyone on the planet heard him acting like an ass.

He shouted, "I said you broke the law!" before beating a hasty retreat from the sound and sight of my camera flashing.

"What are you doing now, sir?" I asked.

This is that fool running away from my camera. Red car. Red shirt. No, he doesn't have anger-management issues...


Just to be clear, I HAD right of way. Being a rich asshole doesn't get you in front of people all the time. In a world filled with iniquity, traffic laws hold us all to the same standard.

License plate: AUY 6326

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AUGUSTA, GA. - The Metro Spirit is hosting a party, which gives us a great chance to sit around and make fun of each other.

"That's an oxymoron," we hear Bryan say.
"That's your favorite word," Amy scoffs. "You don't even know what that means."
"He looks in the mirror every day. He should know what at least part of the word means," I laugh.

I've never been frogged in the arm by an employer before.

AUGUSTA, GA. - "Remember: We have to vote today," I remind Scott.

"Oh, I already voted. You should vote, too."

"Of course, I will."

We discuss how he voted, and how I might vote. I have an aversion to discussing my voting persuasions with him before my ballot is cast. It irritates the crap out of him. But he'll badger me until I agree with him - or pretend to. I want to maintain am illusion that I make my own decisions, when everyone knows that Austin Rhodes tells us both what to think. (That was sarcasm, in case you missed it)

"Tricia will never forgive you if you don't vote for SPLOST," he grins, trying to persuade me to one side, even when he doesn't know what side I've taken. I decide to remain infuriatingly neutral.

"Well, you know, there's a reason we use secret ballots in America, in case you've forgotten one of the finer point of our democracy."

He rolls his eyes at me and goes back to the news.

Hey, he'd be bored with someone more pliable.

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Head: Troops contact family in flash
Subhead: Communication has changed greatly since days of World War II

Wow. Rockin' good subhead, there, Augusta Chronicle copy editors. Are you employing Captain Obvious full-time, or do you just keep him on retainer for the days when nothing in the media has yet irritated me?

From: Stacey Hudson
To: Scott Hudson
Subject: Just wanted to remind you...

"... that you suck."


From: Scott Hudson
To: Stacey Hudson
Subject: Re: Just wanted to remind you...

"Sometimes you are flat out impossible."


From: Stacey Hudson
To: Scott Hudson
Subject: Auto Reply: Out of Assholes

"This is an automatic reply. Your e-mail has been received. Unfortunately, we are all full up on buttheads here. Please take your crap somewhere else.

Best Regards,
Stacey Hudson"


From: Scott Hudson
To: Stacey Hudson
Subject: Re: Re: Auto Reply

"Are picking up Emerson?"


From: Stacey Hudson
To: Scott Hudson
Subject: Auto Reply: Did You Not Hear What I Said?!

"This is an automatic reply. We have received your e-mail. Unfortunately, we're in the process of mentally kicking your butt.

Best Regards,
Stacey Hudson"

AUGUSTA, GA. - My dad was born and raised in Texas. He once told me that if the Lone Star State ever decided to secede from the union, that he would join them. My dad drank the water there for far too long. So when he sent me this, I was far from surprised. I just sent him back a message that said, "You do know that I'm not from Texas, right?" And I hope he does know that, being my dad, and all. But I have similar (although weaker) feelings about Georgia - having been born and raised in metro-Atlanta. So I kind of get it. When we watched the Stone Mountain Laser Show two weekends ago, and they started in with the tribute to the Georgia Music Hall of Fame, I got a beautiful pain in my heart.

Have you ever looked at a map of the world? Look at Texas with me just for a second. That picture, with the Panhandle and the Gulf Coast, and the Red River and the Rio Grande is as much a part of you as anything ever will be. As soon as anyone anywhere in the world looks at it they know what it is. It's Texas. Pick any kid off the street in Japan and draw him a picture of Texas in the dirt and he'll know what it is. What happens if I show you a picture of any other state? You might get it maybe after a second or two, but who else would? And even if you do, does it ever stir any feelings in you?

In every man, woman and child on this planet, there is a person who wishes just once he could be a real live Texan and get up on a horse or ride off in a pickup. There is a little bit of Texas in everyone.

Texas is the Alamo. Texas is 183 men standing in a church, facing thousands of Mexican nationals, fighting for freedom, who had the chance to walk out and save themselves, but stayed instead to fight and die for the cause of freedom.

We send our kids to schools named William B. Travis and James Bowie and Davy Crockett, and do you know why? Because those men saw a line in the sand and they decided to cross it and be heroes.

John Wayne paid to do the movie himself. That is the Spirit of Texas.

Texas is Sam Houston capturing Antonio Lopez de Santa Ana at San Jacinto.

Texas is huge forests of Piney Woods like the Davy Crockett and Sam Houston National Forests.

Texas is breathtaking mountains in the Big Bend.

Texas is the unparalleled beauty of bluebonnet fields in the Texas Hill Country.
Texas is floating the rivers of the Hill Country on a hot summer day.
Texas is the beautiful, warm beaches of the Gulf Coast of South Texas.
Texas is beaches you can drive on and have many memorable bon-fires with close friends.
Texas is that warm feeling you get when someone asks where you're from.

Texas is the shiny skyscrapers in Houston and Dallas.

Texas is world record bass from places like Lake Fork.

Texas is Mexican foods like nowhere else, not even Mexico.
Texas is chicken fried steak and world famous Bar-B-Q.
Texas is the Fort Worth Stockyards, Bass Hall, the Ballpark in Arlington and the Astrodome. (guess now the Reliant Stadium too)..

Texas is larger-than-life legends like Michael DeBakey, Ann Richards, Denton Cooley, Willie Nelson, Buddy Holly, Gene Autry, Audie Murphy, Tommy Lee Jones, Waylon Jennings, Farrah Fawcet, Janis Joplin, Sandra Bullock, Kris Kristofferson, Tom Landry, Eva Longoria, Darrell Royal, ZZ Top, Eric Dickerson, Earl Campbell, Nolan Ryan, Sam Rayburn, Howard Hughes, and let's not forget GEORGE STRAIT- PANTERA, the Big Bopper, Tex Ritter, George Jones, Clay Walker, Mark Chestnut, to name ONLY a few.

Texas is great companies like Dell Computer, Texas Instruments, EDS and Compaq, Whataburger, Southwest Airlines , Bell Helicopter and LOCKHEED MARTIN AEROSPACE, Home of the F-16 Jet Fighter and the JSF Fighter, Valero.

Texas is NASA.

Texas is huge herds of cattle, beautiful horses and miles of crops.
Texas is home to the world famous King Ranch.
Texas is home to the most amazing sunsets of gold over an empty field.

Texas is hundreds of deer running around neighborhoods and fields.

Texas is skies blackened with doves and fields full of deer.

Texas is a place where towns and cities shut down to watch the local high school football game on Friday nights and for the Cowboys on Monday Night Football, and for the night In Old San Antonio River Parade in San Antonio.

To drive across Texas is to drive 1/3 the way across the United States.

Texas is ocean beaches, deserts, lakes and rivers, mountains and prairies, and modern cities.

If it isn't already in Texas, you probably don't need it.

No one does anything bigger or better than it's done in Texas.

By federal law, Texas is the only state in the U...S. That can fly its flag at the same height as the U.S. Flag. Think about that for a second. You fly the Stars and Stripes at 20 feet in Maryland, California , or Maine , and your state flag, whatever it is, goes at 17 feet. You fly the Stars and Stripes in front of Klein Oak High or anyplace else at 20 feet, the Lone Star flies at the same height - 20 feet. Do you know why? Because it is the only state that was a Republic before it became a state.

Also, being a Texan is as high as being an American down here. Our capitol is the only one in the country that is taller than the capitol building in Washington, D.C. And we can divide our state into five states at any time if we wanted to! We can become a republic again at any time the voters of Texas choose, and we included these things as part of the deal when we came on. That's the best part, right there.

Texas even has its own power grid!! And don't even lie to yourself... Did I mention Live music capitol of the world?

If you are a REAL TEXAN, you won't even need to be told to pass this on.
GOD BLESS TEXAS !

I dreamed on Friday night that I met the actress who played Flo @ the TV diner - you know, the "kiss my grits" lady. In the dream, I was so excited to meet her that I just kept laughing this random, high-pitched "eh eh eh eh!" Like Flipper. And everyone looked at me warily and kind of started edging away from me, like at any moment I might spontaneously combust.

That's it. Nothing more happened. Just know that if you invite me to a F-list-celebrity-rich soiree, I might not be able to control myself.

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Emmie's involved with a little risky business.

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Tom: "I keep getting these Facebook updates from you when you're driving..."

Me: "I'm not driving. I'm at a stoplight."

Bob: "A green one?"

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The "Pumpkin Bean Soup" @ Kinja. It's more like porridge. And... bland.

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Off Hwy 81 in Newton County, Georgia.

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AUGUSTA, GA -

Emmie: "I know wuss makin da clouds! Dat CLOUD MACHINE!"

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Check out this SlideShare Presentation - updated with more recent and more comprehensive statistics!

Head: Obama picks Sotomayor for Supreme Court
Subhead: She's a self-described 'Newyorkrican' who grew up in a housing project

For Jeebus sake! I'm not Latino OR a New Yorker, and when I saw this headline I almost banged my forehead against the screen in frustration. The term you're looking for, Oh Intern Who Seems to Have Taken Over Subhead Writing for the AP, is "Nuyorican," a kind of compound word that you find in Latino communities, like "holope" for "hold up/robbery." Copy editors: it is not enough to know a lot of vocabulary and grammar. You must also have social and cultural knowledge in order to place these words in context.

I'm laying on the bed, eating some pasta, watching a "Law + Order" marathon, and working my way to the top of Mt. Washmore. Emmie comes in and climbs on my legs, which are hanging off the bed. My knees DO NOT bend that way.

"No, honey," I say. She keeps climbing. "No, honey."

"Why?"

"Because you're hurting my knees."

She keeps climbing.

"I said 'no,' Emerson... Young lady, I said NO."

"Why?"

"I just told you it was hurting me."

"But you da mommy."

"But I'm not invincible."

She freezes and looks hard at me.

"Wuss bincible?" She asks.

"It means nothing can hurt me."

"Yeah!" She squeals happily. "Cause you da mommy!"

(Sigh)

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We're leaving the bowling alley at 2 a.m. Emmie doesn't see the curb and skins her knee.

"Eeeeeh! I can't take it anymore!" she whines, and I snicker as I buckle her into her seat.

"Okay, honey. Dial it back, please."

"I got a boo-boo on my knee," she complains.

"That's awesome," Jim compliments her.

"No!" she says. "It's hurty."

"We didn't say it wasn't hurty. We said it was awesome," I said. "We'll take pictures of it later."

""NO!" She insists. "Iss NOT awesome. Iss not good. Boo-boos are not good."

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We're driving to midnight bowling and the sky is overcast...

"Mama," Emmie moans from the back seat. "I miss the stars."

"Oh, well... The clouds are covering them up right now. We like clouds, too, right? They're nice and fluffy."

"They're pollution!" Natasha, 8 years old, insists.

"Way to spin the positive back there," I say.

"Really," Jim seconds.

"I know what the problem is," Emmie yells, excitedly.

"What?"

"The stars are SLEEPING on da clouds!"

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"I want to know who was sitting around one day and thought, 'Let's take tiny plastic pets and put them in tiny pink cages and sell it as The Littlest Pet Shop,'" I rambled to Lindsey, a nice, quiet girl I hardly know. By the end of our chaperonning duties at this tween birthday party, she will probably know my bra size and least favorite foods. I will probably still only know her name. That thought does little to shut me up.

"Well, everything smaller is cuter, I guess," she comments, mildly.

"Right. Little ax murderers..."

"Oh, in a My Little Maximum Security Prison?" she smiles.

Oh. Well. I couldn't have said it weirder myself.

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AUGUSTA, GA - "My friend went to Australia and she said there were dead kangaroos just everywhere," Amy said.

"Really."

"People would hit them and just keep going."

"Weird."

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AUGUSTA, GA. - "Yeah, we used a whole roll of tape playing with this today. Not all on her face, obviously." I said.

"No, of course. The other half was taping her butt together," Amy joked.

"OH, I didn't even THINK about that!" I said.

Dangit. Opportunity knocked. I ignored it like a band of missionaries waiting on the porch.

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Because THIS unlucky fellow will forever been known as The Putz Meister

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"Do you know what number we use to call the police?" I ask Emmie.
"Uh, what?"
"911."
"Oh. 911."
"But only in emergencies."
"Yes. Only in 'mergency."
"What number was it?"
"911."
"Very good!"

"Danks. And what number call Bob the Builder?"
"Well... I don't know." I admitted.
"Mama. We. Need. Dat. Number."

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E-mail to A.W.
Subject: "An invitation to join me on Facebook!"
Message: " Joooooiiin uuuuuuuuusssss!"

E-mail to me
Subject: "Re: An Invitation..."
Message: "I will never join your evil cult!"

Subject: "Re: Re: An Invitation..."
Message: "Fine. But you will be the last to know when the zombie invasion begins."

Subject: "Re: Re: Re: An Invitation..."
Message: "I am not afraid of zombies!"

Subject: "Re: Re: Re: Re: An Invitation..."
Message: "Then you will die."

Scott and I are talking about water boarding. Is it torture? Is it legal? Is it acceptable for us to have different standards for soldiers in a standing army v. members of a self-supporting militia? Perhaps no other subject inspires such feelings of naivete, helplessness, and inadequacy within me.

"Back in World War II," he began (where he always begins, by the way). "If you came in behind an enemy army and tried to sabotage the supply line, there was no Guantanamo. You were lined up against the nearest wall and summarily shot."

"I guess that's war," I conceded, reluctantly.

"That's war," he agreed. "That's what happened when you come in behind an enemy and try to infiltrate the rear."

I start snickering. He glares and continues.

"It's bad when an enemy soldier is caught doing it. It's worse when it's a civilian," he says. "WHAT?"

I snort. "You said 'infiltrate the rear."

He cackles. But I sense the discussion is over. I guess we're not really on the same intellectual level. He an amateur historian. I'm an amateur 12-year-old boy.

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I'm pulling away from my parking space when Emmie takes Scott's hand: "I know what we can do today," she says.

"What?" he asks.

"We can make Mommy a present!"

That sounds great to me!

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"Sweetheart, it's almost time to eat dinner," I said, as Scott was grilling asparagus and reheating leftover pork chops from Saturday.

"No dank you," she said, shaking her curls.

"Oh, come on," I teased her. "I know you're hungry. Daddy said you played like crazy all day long. There must be something you want."

"Wull..." she pondered. "I might lite some steak..."

Psh! Wouldn't we all!

AUGUSTA, GA. - Half of the fun of Trivial Pursuit - especially a 20-year-old edition - is the fake answers people come up with when they don't know the real ones.

"What U.S. city is named for a British Prime Minister?" Amy and Jim asked us.

"Blairsville, Ga.," I laughed. The real answer is Pittsburgh.

"What did Ted Kennedy wear around his neck at the funeral of (that girl who was killed in the car accident)?" I asked them.

"An albatross," Jim chuckled. The real answer is a neck brace.

Oddly enough, that albatross came up three times in the game.

"What Samuel Cooleridge poem featured an albatross?" I asked them, rolling my eyes. Why not ask the name of the play that featured the characters of Romeo + Juliet?

"Rime of the Ancient Mariner," Amy answered, easily.

And then I got a question: "What is the largest web-footed bird in the world?" After eliminating emus and ostriches, and pondering geese (which, in my limited experience, can grow large as a VW), I guessed the Emperor Penguin. It was as good a guess as any. But the answer: the albatross!
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Plasma Car Winner - Kenny Adams, from eVince Unlimited!

Episcopal Day School Jump Drive Winners:
- Tom Spain
- Linda Walker

Rhineharts Gift Certificate Winners:
- Michelle Simons
- Austin Rhodes
- John Makekau
- Lori Blackman
- Debbie Van Tuyll
- Amber Carlson
- Lisa McCollom
- Roberta Terry

Congratulations to the winners - but, thanks most of all for donating blood!

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Everyone on Facebook is getting on my goddamn nerves:

"Oooh, I biked 400 miles after work today!"

"Oh, I'm so cool! I went to the gym and ran for two hours straight on the treadmill!"

"Yeah, I wanna be special, so I went to the gym and bench-pressed your mom 2 million times in reps of 500!"

Screw YOU! I ate two doughnuts today and sat on my ass for three hours straight, editing photos and compiling an e-mail blast. I've been walking every day I can, and I wish I had more of a 9-5 job, but I will never join the leagues of the competitive exercisers on FaceBalls.

That was probably more "personality" than I needed to display. But I don't care.

AUGUSTA, GA. - Emerson and I have been working on spelling short words together. She learned "B-A-L-L" and then I changed it to "W-A-L-L." She's clearly been thinking about these changes.

"MOMMAMOMMAMOMMAMOMMA!" Emmie ran shrieking up to me with her sketch pad in her hand.
"What, sweetie?" I asked.
"I know how spell anudder word!" she said, eyes wide and mouth in a huge smile.
"Oooh, what word?" I asked. Call? Fall? Hall?
"DOLL! She shrieked. "D-A-L-L!"

Well... you can't argue that she's entirely wrong.

AUGUSTA, GA. - I was at a meeting yesterday with a client and his agency rep. The rep and I have become friends outside of work, and I adore him and his wife - and their three beautiful children. But sometimes friendship is not advantageous in business...

"Let me write down your e-mail," the client said.
"Sure! It's stacey dot hudson..." I began...
"@zombielover.com," the rep finished.

LMAO!

But NO.

And... hee!

Emmie clicked her fingers for the 1st time and gasped delightedly: "I tink my snaps are here!"

She snapped, albeit softly, several times and cackled: "Now I can snap anywhere I want to snap! Dis is awesome!"

Waiters everywhere tremble.

Check out our ad info, but more importantly, check out my big brain in making this thing work!

Of course, me also make stupid, and forget to put source of data. Me fix now.

AUGUSTA, GA. - Alice and I are both wearing black wrap dresses and turquoise-tinted necklaces. Amy and Erin are wearing the same jeans. This is all kinds of wrong.

AUGUSTA, GA. - Parenting has become a spectator sport. We set the bar extremely high for what is "good" parenting and start judging the moment we hear someone did something that could be considered one drop dangerous. Read the rest of the article here.

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AUGUSTA, GA. - I was trying to get laundry moved over and dinner completed, and in the meantime, Emmie climbed on top of the washer when my back was turned.

"Emmie! How did you get up there?!" I laughed. Really, the thing is twice as tall as she is!

Emmie gave me a fierce look and raised both fists in the air: "I YAM 'TERNAL THUNDERRRRR!" she roared.

Um, what?

"You're turtle thunder?" I asked, uncertain what she'd just bellowed so triumphantly.

"NOOOO!!!! I YAM 'TERNAL THUNDERRRR!"

"You're eternal thunder?" I asked, amused.

"YEEESSSS!" she yelled.

"Okay. Well, Eternal Thunder needs to get down off the washer, please." I said.

"NOO! I YAM ALL POWER!"

"Well, All Power, you're about to get a time-out." I grinned, my hand on my hip. She giggled.

"Okay, mama. Sowwy."

"That's alright. If you'll just go charge daddy's razor so I can use it on my legs, All Power, I'd appreciate it."

Do you think Justin Timberlake is in town?!

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AUGUSTA, GA. - I think it probably says horrible things about me that my proudest moment so far as a parent was yesterday, when my sister was singing "The Diarrhea Song" over the phone to Emerson, and Emerson made up her own lyric:

"When you pants fall down and you unnerwear is brown - diarrhea!"

I was like, "Aw, her first rhyming couplet!"

"The Diarrhea Song" from the move "Parenthood"

Alice's boyfriend had to get a squirrel out of their apt. today. He cornered it in the bathroom with a bucket and tossed it outside. None of their 15 cats even blinked a wicked eye at the thing.
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AUGUSTA, GA. - A woman passed out outside the office about 30 minutes. Pedestrians walked around her, until someone from the office saw her lying on her back, spread-eagle, on the sidewalk. Her flip-flops had been kicked off, and her purse was tossed away from her. She stared, unseeing, at the sky, while white foam frothed from her mouth. A horrible "hhhhgggg.... hhhhggggg" sound told us she was struggling to breathe.

Jason ran in: "Hey, there's some lady, like, dying out here on the sidewalk."

Erin called 911. I rolled her on her side so she could breathe and stroked her back while she regained her breath. Heather went through her bag for medication and ID. Her name was Sara. She had no driver's license, but she had some kind of ID. No meds. No medic alert bracelets or dog tags.

We'd never seen her before - or never noticed her, anyway. She was clean, but her clothes were 20 years outdated and her cheap, thin polyester shirt easily showed through so her bra straps were visible from the in the back.

Her name was Sara. She was alone.

It took the paramedics - it seemed - 20 minutes to get there. In reality, it was probably five. But knowing there is a fire station at 10th Street really pissed me off. I wonder how long it took for the dispatcher to relay the information.

They checked her blood sugar with a small device, and by the time they had loaded her up on the the gurney, she was regaining her faculties, sitting up and rubbing her forehead in confusion. Most likely, it was an epileptic seizure. It would explain the lack of driver's license, the obvious suddenness of the attack, and the relative fast regaining of consciousness. It doesn't explain the obliviousness of passersby.

The paramedics milled around afterwards, laughing and telling jokes with the firemen while the ambulance wheeled her off to MCG.

She never said a word.

AUGUSTA, GA. - We're all itching to read a new book that none of us can find: "Pride & Prejudice & Zombies." I scoured Atlanta for it last weekend and finally ordered it through Amazon. Amy tried to find it this weekend. No luck. It's on back order everywhere.

Amy: "We asked for the book at the counter, and the funny thing was that the clerk said, 'I'm sorry, what was it called? Pride & Prejudice & Donkeys?'"

Alice: "Oh, that would have been even funnier!"

"Emmie, please put your clothes on," I said, wearily, for at least the third time, as I strode past her to get myself ready for a family birthday.
"I don' WANT to!" She shrieked.
"You don't want to see Gran-Gran and MeeMaw? At Nona's house?" I asked, gently. I know she does.
"NOOO!" She shrieked again.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?" I asked, dryly. I'm pretty sure DFACS can hear her. "I can't hear you."
"Wull, can you hear dis?" She asked, and slammed her bedroom door in my face.
Oh, snap. Where did she learn that?!


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Look at these adorable stepping stones at Distinctly Different Antiques in Surrey Center - only $10!

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Younger, I wondered
Does grey hair grow all over?
I tell you: It does.

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Amber Carlson (heeeelll, yes, I called you out) and I are conversing out of our car windows at each other like the domesticated suburbanites we are (really, you could replace everything we said with "moo" and it would be just as accurate).

I had only just coaxed Emmie into the car, and I was trying to get everything done before the Dinosaur Jr show tonight. I'd been teasing Amber about her slackness in not going, but she's breast feeding. No fun for her for a while.

"Hey, Emmie," Amber says, with a sneaky grin on her face. "Your mommy is going to a dinosaur show tonight."

"No!" I point at her as Emmie turns to look at me quizzically.

"You should ask her if you can go, too," she finishes, and pulls off, laughing in unison with her oldest daughter.

"You're going straight to hell, Amber!" I shout after her... and turn to deal with a VERY excited pre-schooler.

"Look! Dose are fire ants!" Emmie points.

"Do you know why they're called fire ants? Because they bite you and it burns like fire," I explain. I leave out the part where it itches like mad for a week, but Em still looks frightened. She backs away from the small mound.

"I didn't mean to scare you, sweetie," I laughed.

"I don' wan' be fire," she whispered.

We encountered an unknown animal yesterday at the Welcome Center just inside the Columbia County line.
On the way back to the car, it attacked Emerson. The Thing, which had previously been sleeping, opened its eyes and stopped Emmie at the sidewalk. After, she climbed onto a concrete bench while I tried to coax her back into the car for the last 20 minutes of our ride.
But The Thing trapped her in place, an unreadable expression on her face. Em didn't blink, didn't react to my trying to engage her.
"Okay, Doodle," I called, laughing. "I gonna leeb you!"
I skipped to the car and opened the door. Usually, doubt registers on Emerson's face about that time. But The Thing narrowed its eyes. The Thing likes a challenge.
"Come get in the car, sweetie! We have to finish watching your Scooby Doo movie!"
No dice. The Thing eats speech-impeded dogs for breakfast.
"Daddy's missing us, Doodle-bug! Let's go see him!"
Bah! The Thing has no father. The Thing was spawned directly from the union of an erupting volcano and a radioactive meteor strike.
"Young lady, I'm going to start counting. You'd better get in this car! One..."
Threats? The Thing looked mildly interested. Would there be blood and entrails?
"Two..."
The Thing took stock of the angry creature in front of him, noting its ineffectual claws and teeth, its delicate skin and its organs unprotected by armor. The Thing would make short work of this creature.
"Three!"
The Thing sighed and looked away in disappointment. The creature standing on the pavement was not going to be fair sport.
In fact, the creature was backing its car slowly out of the parking spot while shouting more words. More words. More words. To The Thing, they sounded like yip!yip!yip!yip!yip!yip! The Thing did not like loud noises. The Thing turned away, looking for a new interest.
Faster than could have been imagined, the creature was upon The Thing, arms outstretched, eyes blazing. The Thing seemed to have underestimated the creature. It's powers increased in its anger! And it was too late to position itself for a fight. The Thing would have to run for it!
A mere three steps later, the creature had The Thing tucked securely under one arm. The Thing kicked, screamed, and hit, but was no match for the creature.The Thing was tossed into the car on a cushioned, elevated platform of some sort, and the creature slid menacingly into the front seat.
"Get in that car seat and put your strappies on right NOW, young lady," the creature commanded.
The Thing snarled. It swung. It connected with the creature's head. But the creature was undaunted. It removed all articles of entertainment from The Thing's surroundings and buckled the seat belt so that The Thing was incapable of escape.
The creature sighed. "When we get home, you're going right to bed, young lady."
The Thing roared in frustration and rage. But The Thing saw it was outmatched. It retreated behind the four-year-old's innocent visage as the perfect camouflage. Plotting its revenge upon the creature, The Thing closed its eyes and slept again.
"Thank God," I sighed. "Let's go home."


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"Das not fair! And if you not be nice to me when we get home I goin scream at you like dis: AAHHH! You hear dat? Lithen: AAHHH! Das whas goin happen."
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We've been at Borders for a couple of hours, now, and the pile of books we've gathered is now slipping out of our hands (damn you, Borders, and your $3.99 sale). The two younger children have devolved into turning flips and racing each other down the aisles. It's definitely time to go.

"Okay, troops, line up!" I call, marching my legs. Like magic, they fall in behind me, marching in rhythm. Wow. That's a first. "Fall out!"

We march through the bookstore, winding without reason around display shelves, until we reach the counter and get in line: "Halt!"

I'm so proud of myself for getting my little soldiers organized. They are standing neatly in line, quietly anticipating the purchase of their new toys - uh, I mean, books. Of course we bought them books... My daughter is grinning at me and when I look over, she gives me a salute: "Aye-aye, Captain!"

Dang Skippy, I think.

"Ma'am?" The clerk calls, waving to get my attention. "Um, you might want to march your troops over to the other end because that's where the line starts."

Oh.

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(Peering out the back window of the car)

"Sir! Sir! We got free trucks behind us! We gotta go even more faster! Or dey goin' spank our butt!"

"What?! Who spanks your butt, Emerson?" I ask, alarmed.

"Da ancient trees!"

Huh?...
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"Guess what?! When da talking broccoli growed up, I'm gon' EAT it! Hey, mama, why you got dat pen in yer hair?"
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"University Medical Associates - how may I help you?" a distant female voice asks.
"Yes, I'd like to speak to the billing department, please," I answer.
"I'm sorry, but you've reached the answering service," she says.

"Oh, well, may I leave them a message?" I ask.
"No. You'll have to call back during business hours."
"... I'm sorry - What?"
"Call back during business hours, please."

"... Um... I can't leave a message with the answering service?" I ask.
"No, ma'am."
"Then... what do you do?" I ask, thoroughly confused. Did I call the wrong number, maybe? "Is this the answering service for University Medical Associates?"
"Yes, but this line is for emergencies."
"But... isn't that what 9-1-1 is for?" I ask.

*Click*
She hung up on me.

So I ran by Augusta Prep to pick up some paperwork, and once I got there realized that I had absolutely no idea where to pick it up.

"That's okay, I thought. "I'll just ask in this random office. Everyone is so nice here!"

And suddenly I was on my face in the foyer.

After a stunned second, I leapt to my feet and realized that I had completely missed the step up into the entrance.

Brushing my palms and the knees of my trousers, I darted from that (thankfully) deserted foyer into the nearest office.

The woman behind the desk smiled warmly.

"Did you see that?" I giggled.

"Oh, no. You didn't fall did you?" She asked, eyeing my pants for injuries.

"Spectacularly!" I laughed.

"Are you hurt?" she asked.

"Just my ego," I quipped. I couldn't stop chuckling. How ridiculous I must have looked!

"I'm so sorry!" She said, with obvious concern.

"Hey, I'm just sorry you missed it!" I laughed. "It was maybe the best fall ever!"

And I limped back to my car, trying desperately to hold my head up... while keeping my eyes on the ground!

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Tossed my clothes in the dryer this morning to knock the wrinkles out. Ran back shortly to see what the loud clattering was about to discover that I had left them on their hangers.

Smooth.

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I am carrying a single car key on a Tinkerbell key chain.

Scott: "Did you lose your regular keys?"
Me: "No."
Scott: "You did."
Me: "No."
Scott: "Where are they?"
Me: "Uh..."
Scott: "That's what I thought."

• If Larry the Cable Guy was a ventriloquist, his dummy would be Al Gore
• He’s not really Dave Coulier from “Full House.” “My wife thinks that one is hilarious.” Trivia: It’s said that Coulier was the inspiration for the Alannis Morisette song “You Outta Know.”
• He has never taken acting classes: “I think I do an okay job. It’s not like I’m makin’ Shakespeare.” Trivia: Hey, some people think that Shakespeare didn’t make Shakespeare.
• His fans are miscategorized. Trivia: “I know you’re trying to be funny,” he said, when asked how many trailers will go into foreclosure after their owners buy tickets to his Augusta show. “But the majority of blue-collar fans make above the minimum of average income.” My bad.
• In his spare time, he studies the history and politics surrounding the Civil War. Trivia: A “copperhead state” was a state that chose neutrality in the conflict. And here I thought that was Switzerland.
• Late at night on the Blue Collar Comedy Tour bus, Larry said that Jeff Foxworthy is a spooner – “but he likes to stick a fork in every now and then.” No word on whether or not Foxworthy is smarter than a redneck.
• Larry drove a black Dodge on a 12-inch lift until he did a mockumentary for country singer Toby Keith’s concert tour. Keith got his tour sponsor to send Larry a new Ford F250 in metallic silver.
• Larry immediately drove his new truck to a friend’s garage, put it up on a six-inch lift and put 35-inch-(somethings – tired? Rims? Squirrels?) on it. He put his old Dodge up for a charity auction for juvenile diabetes and raised $23,000. “And I miss that truck. I almost cried when the guy drove it out of my driveway,” he laughed.

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"Sophistry," I announce to Alice, after a 20-minute search for the correct word.
"What?"

"Sophistry," I say, smugly.
"I've never even heard of that word," she says, and commands me to spell it.

"Sophistry?" she asks again.
"Well, it could be soff-istry," I say. I don't know. I've only ever read it, not heard anyone else pronounce it.

"And what is it?"
"It's a fallacy in argument and reasoning, like using one point, idea or example to back up another, when really they're quite unrelated," I say.

"Like what people say irony is?" she asks.
"Like what people think irony is, but, ironically, it is not!" I laugh uproariously at my retarded joke.

Alice is not amused: "Okay, I'm hanging up now."

A.W.: "I don't do Facebook."
Me: "Why not?"
A.W.: "It's too Big Brother-ish for me."
Me: "No, it's not! What do you have a cabin in the woods and some bomb-making supplies, or somethin'?"
A.W. (laughing): "No!"
Me (sputtering): "Bu- I - Look!" (displaying unmitigated sophistry) "NPR is now following me on Twitter! This means I am very cool. Ira Glass and I are TIGHT!"
A.W.: "Ira Glass is my husband."
Me: "Well, you better ask him why he's cheatin' on you with me."
J.C.: "Did you guys see where they're going to do This American Life live and they're playing it here?"
A.W.: "No."
Me: "I sent Alice an e-mail with information on interviewing Ira Glass and she just deleted it."
A.W.: "I couldn't do it. I would open my mouth and just nonsense would spill out."
Me: "And that's different from every other day because...?"
A.W.: "Because it's Ira Glass. It's not sittin' around here talkin' to you fools."

This is why I love where I work.
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The Chronicle sent an intern over to the office to get our rates for U Magazine.

The problem is that when she walked in, we recognized her from when one of us worked for the daily. When she left, she went back across the street.

Real slick, big daily paper. Your tactics are both way advanced and super professional.

Next time, don't send a little blonde white girl to request rates for an African-American publication.

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Emmie and I played in the rainstorm this afternoon.

It began as a quick walk - or, as she calls it, a "wikwok" - and ended with us both soaked to the skin. But once she was wet, it didn't matter HOW wet she got... So we kept playing and we both ended up soaking wet!

We hopped into a hot bath together the moment we got back.
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Sometimes I meet people and think: "This person is awesome! I should know them more. I should invite them to dinner, or whatever something that real adults do to start friendships, and maybe we'll be bosom friends like Anne Shirley and Diana Barry.

And then I snap awake and remember that one can only have bosom friends before one actually has a bosom. So that idea is about 20 years too late...

... So the moment passes, and no one invites anyone anywhere and the friendship never progresses. But out there in the world are some people I like very much, who laugh with me at my self-deprecating jokes instead of widening their eyes and quietly making a note that their children should never be allowed to come over and play with mine. Somewhere out there are intelligent women who don't worry about their weight, who read books more than they watch TV, who care about their effect on other people's lives, and who can say The F-Word and still be classy!

One day, we should all get together.

One day.
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Hee!
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