Bird Day

Ramblings Post #415
I need a little gravy on mine. I just do. Don't ask why. It's good on the chicken, the pork-chops and the steak. Don't know why, but it is. It's a sad commentary on how I let my taste buds hijack my diet. Sad, but delicious. 

Apparently this week's assignment is the gas up the Cowboy Nation after beating Philly, with commentator after commentator suddenly seeing how the 'boys can beat Kansas City on Thursday. I am a die hard fan, as my mother puts it you would think the team pays me, but let's not get ahead of ourselves here. Dallas has one of the worst stretches of scheduling in the game, with Monday Night game, a Sunday game and Thursday game for three games in less than fourteen days. They've won two, and now are expecting to pull off the upset in the third? 

Um, look, my blood pressure is high enough. Its looking like Jerry might have actually known what he was doing at the trade table after all, but pulled the trigger a little too late to make it work this season. Maybe. The new look D-Line might be able to put pressure on Mahomes, and he's suspect under pressure. No matter, I will have high hopes for next season. 

But this post is about Bird Day. The last under-commericalized holiday we have. I memories of my childhood and trips to the country to see my peoples. A typical Thanksgiving spread would have included at least 3 turkeys (fried, smoked, baked), ham, chicken(fried, baked, grilled), ribs, pork chops, pulled pork, sausage, chitterlings, venison, stewed beef and various gravies. Sometimes we'd get exotic, with bear or snake, but not often. Then came the mac and cheese, yellow rice, white rice, stuffing, mashed potatoes, potato salad, and a small meatloaf (which I never ate), sometimes there is a baked ziti. Then the sides with green beans, lima beans, black eyed peas, green peas, corn, collard greens, okra along rolls, biscuits, cornbread and just regular bread. Desserts - cakes and pies, were in a whole other room. There was more, but this is what I remember. 

Grace was around two and you ate, napped, watched football, hung out with family, ate some more and that was the whole day. Neighbors and other people we knew dropped in, caught up, hung out, told stories and left toting a tin foil covered plate. 

We're not there anymore. Those loving aunts and uncles are cooking on high at this point, family has spread too far and away, finances are what they are, but the memories are a powerful thing. 

Blessings be to you and yours. May the food be good, but the company better.   

I look up at night...

Ramblings Post #404
They were right. We don't really know what we've got until it's gone. It's hard to miss something still there, or in some cases even understand it at that moment, but once something is no longer within our boundaries - something as simple as spot to look up at night and be awed - the loss becomes evident in ways we can hardly imagine. 

As a kid I spent time on grandparents farm, a place down three different bumpy dirt roads beautifully decorated by nature with a canopies of trees that made the trip feel magical to me. It was a quiet place, where they'd lived for fifty years, pumped water from a well and one of the barns was where my father was born. At night there was one light pole that was perpetually dim, I don't know why.

There the night sky was a tapestry. It was magical. Thousands upon thousands of stars.

At my parents house in a small southern town, with light poles here and there by request, looking up at the night sky I could see at best two or three stars.

I now live in the city. 

I want to see the sky of my childhood again.  

A Visit Home

Ramblings Post #392
Life changes tend to sneak up on you. A lot of times we make small shifts over time and before we know it our new normal isn't what we think it is. I made deliberate efforts to stay home and safe last year. And I filled my laptop and TV with distractions and other entertainment. But as this starts to wind down....we hope.... the changes which before were a chore now feel comfortable. Maybe a little too comfortable. Changing back may mean giving up these Oreos and the spot on the couch shole is comfy. Hopefully what comes next is a getting it together montage before the big, well, something or other. I hope the music is thrilling.

Home isn't a place, it's a feeling. And despite being put out by the travel in the past, I have long missed the feeling of being in the presence of my folks. Sometimes aggravating, sometimes a little overbearing, but always with love, my folks. So now that I'm properly vaxxed up, and they have been for a few months now, I loaded up the Pacer and for Mother's Day weekend got on the road to see my Mom.

Now my mother is a practical woman. Last year when before I even broached the subject of coming down despite the pandemic she quickly headed me off at the pass. She said the phone worked - both ways - and wasn't no need to risk our health with all that riding up and down the road. They weren't planning on going anywhere so we should just wait it out. And during the Great Homestay of 2020 I did speak to my people frequently, sometimes two or three times a week, way more than I did usually. So it wasn't like I was out of touch. But the phone is different than actually seeing someone in person. 

So I gassed up Friday night after work and got on the road early Saturday morning, driving straight through. I don't usually like to do that because that was my father's habit when I was kid. Okay he had three fairly hyperactive children with him so maybe he had some purpose. But now when I take a road trip, and I drove more this past Mother's Day weekend than I drove pretty much the last nine months of 2020, I'll stop at a spot on the side of the road because I'm the driver and I can. Stretch my legs if you will. Or anyways, I used to do that, in the before times, in the long, long ago. No, this time once the car got rolling it didn't stop again until I rolled up in my parents driveway.

My parents looked older. I guess they've looked older every time I've seen them, it's just that it's becoming more noticeable. But they're alive and kicking so that's all that counts. My mother even cooked, something she swears she doesn't do very often anymore. And we ate, and talked about the past and remembered better times. I washed dishes, hung pictures and fixed computer issues. We caught up and just were together.

I also forgot that my mother's house contains THE harshest mirrors on the planet. There is no forgiveness in those babies. I mean swore I had been losing weight lately until I saw myself in her mirrors. I was feeling good, getting my steps up, then bam! The mirror in the bathroom I grew up in could even be considered cruel. Might have to go back to wheat bread and brown rice.

Since last year's lockdown, I had been three places other than a grocery store or a drive thru: My brothers house twice, to my old Running Partner's spot where we sat outside in the driveway and to Spanky's house. Other than that, and to get my vaccine shots I have been home. Luckily I was able to find a ranching gig that let me work from home so I can keep the lights on and the phone working. Going to see my parents felt good. And not just because of the hours in the car seeing the countryside for the first time in a while.

Life needs to get better.

Barkeep. Yes, I've been vaxxed up, now give me a tall cold beer. Yes, I have my card....

Oh them Holidays

Ramblings Post #308
When my defacto niece goes back to NYC, she's gonna need a vacation from her vacation. The hanging out all night to the wee hours, the sleeping all day, the constant imbibing. Sure it was fun when I did all that X number of years ago, but it can't still be fun today? Didn't they learn from our mistakes? Oh, right we don't consider those mistakes, more along the lines of a good time with friends. Right. Right. Let me get back to my old folks stuff. Sorry to bother ya'll. 

Back from the wilds of Cackalack, and boy am I old.

I have cousins that I grew up with who have children who have graduated from college. From college! And now those kids are asking to come live with me. Which is understandable as I live in Atlanta and have a house with spare bedrooms and they live in the aforementioned wilds of etc and so on. With their parents. So I feel for them, I really do. But I like my me time, my private hours. Drinking from the big glass, shoes off, video game blaring. Might even watch one of them R-rated movies. So I'm hesitant. No, that putting it wrong. I just don't want to do it. But it's family, and in my family you're not really allowed to be that much of an ass without you feuding with them. It didn't help that my cousin, the girl's mother, was jokingly trying to get me to hook her up with a Sugardaddy in the form of one of my middle aged friends. I was not amused.

While my tip end of the family lives in a more traditional nuclear family mode, that side of us is practically communal living. Because they all live relatively close, and all the adults are working the hours they can get which are kinda funny, the kids have to get in where they fit in, but everyone in the house/neighborhood is related to them some kinda way. If they've got diverse after school activities  - science club, social club, statistics for fun and profit - and your parents happen to work nights, you might sleep at your aunt's house two nights a week, another cousin's house three other nights and your parents house just on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. It sounds chaotic, but if that's what you're used to, what are you gonna do?

So, back to the question before me. Let's do the math. I'm guessing she'll expect free rent, free food, and access to an actual night life? I know it's what I'd be asking for if I were in my twenties trying to figure out where I was headed. And in "Hotlanta" too? I'm fairly certain that the youth, as the youth tend to do, has designs of showing up and setting up shop for the long haul, perhaps even looking for her new "roommate" to dish out a few bucks from time to time, disappear when she 'needs some space' and to not rat-out her occasional very late night/all night out to her mother.

Just writing that makes me feel uncomfortable. Imagine if it happened. 

I told her I would think about letting her stay for job interview trips, which felt like a smart compromise. Maybe kinda. I just finally got a little money, maybe if I agreed to put her up in a hotel room for a day or two instead. I'm too young for this shit.

Barkeep. I need something nice and mellow. That will make me forget I was ever asked this question.

Welcome to South Carolina! Lets get Wet!

Ramblings Post #298
You don't think about some things just because they've always been there, and so you expect that they always will be. But then things happen, like a freak rainstorm that just keeps it coming and you're suddenly an amateur meteorologist. Or if you live on the West Coast, brush fire expert. It just happens.  

I'm from South Carolina, born and raised. It is my home state from the empty back-roads that just seem to the lead to other empty back-roads all the way to the sleepy metropolitan-ish kinda parts of the state that stay open until 'pertinear 10:30! (excepting Waffle Houses and Juke joints). And all of it is about to become beachfront property. 

I kid. 

I called the folks to check on them Sunday, and they are fine. I just recently realized that my parents live near the top of a long sloping hill, partially because the actual road they live on isn't very long and partially because you just don't think about it, it's just where the house has always been. A very, very deep and very wide lake would have be created for them to be in any danger. My grandfather lives a few miles from an actual lake, but I was told that he was good, and my aunts closer to the coast were good too. At least I think they're good, because according to my Mom their only concern seemed to be missing Sunday service. 

It is moments like this where we're isolated from our neighbors, well state neighbors, because in Atlanta people were tailgating for the Falcons game.  Not to say that they're insensitive, but isn't happening halfway around the world, this is two hours down I-20. This is a day trip. Note that I make these comments while I sprawled on my couch upset that that the NFL's Injury Fairy has apparently bought a house in Dallas. At least I thought about it though. One of my co-workers said she honestly had no idea of what was going on just one state over.  

But with the news that the family is safe,  and relatively dry, my thoughts turn to things political. It's the politican season, what can you do? Anyway, moments like this make you wonder, considering the number of roads washed out and bridges closed over safety concerns if...and it's a big IF I know, if something like this will get the Terrorist treatment and spur the a great upswing in government infrastructure projects. The kind of thing that has a tendency to build a hard days work for fair days pay kind of pride in America while proving to a lot of people who failed civics that the government CAN create jobs. Plus a job building a bridge in SC is hard to outsource. I am well aware that a return to the massive job creation of the building of a interstate highway is probably out of the question, but this is an opportunity to pump a little juice into the local economies. 

A Republican state too? This has all the hallmarks of something that will set you apart from the field. Let's see who will jump on this one, or am I being too optimistic?  

Because she was, I am.

I could always see this barn from the window of the bedroom

Our deal since childhood was that she and I would dance at my wedding. Even after time and bad health put her in a wheelchair we still talked about it.

But I never found anyone worthy of presenting, and when I did I let her slip away.

She once told me that she hadn't been worried about death until she was eighty two. She said she'd spoken to a gypsy woman in her youth who assured her that she would make it at least that far.

But eighty two was a long time ago. A long time.

He favorite story about me, was how a small child, after she told me not get my clothes dirty that I went and did it anyway. Then realizing what I had done, I went and picked the switch for her "give me my beating" without asking, because I knew I had done wrong. I got a hug instead.

For last few years she told me that story every time I saw her. It made me smile.

She falls into that special category of people that I have actually known for my whole life. The very idea of her kept me straight at times, in that there are things I could have done that I knew I would not want to explain, or have anyone explain to her about me. She was for me a fixed point in the universe.

For the last fifteen years, every time the phone rang after ten at night, and I saw it was my parents calling, my stomach did little flip flops in dread. She's been doing poorly for a while so you tried to mentally prepare yourself. And still it wasn't enough.

The biscuits I bake are her recipe. One day I'll get the crust on her sweet potato pie right. Those remind me of a little white house with green trim, a pecan tree with thick climbing branches, the big bed with the metal frame and the bunk beds, a big pitcher of sweet tea, barns to search through, the shotguns behind the bedroom door, and night sky that looks like God picked out every star just to be seen from there. The whole place had a sense of peace, it seemed to calm the soul.

Last time I saw her, she looked so small, lying there asleep. My brother and I stood there, watching her for many minutes. Before I left, I kissed her on the forehead and whispered to her that I loved her. I hope she heard me.

My Grandmother has moved on to a better place.

III

When I moved back home after college, I hung out with him. He was my brother's friend, possibly his best friend, but my brother was in Atlanta, so I guess he was looking out for his partner's younger sibling. It is that kind of town.

We used to eat at this restaurant. We'd walk in passing the hostess, to whom he would give a nod, and just choose a table and have a seat. Before long, the head chef would emerge from the back and welcome him as though he was the owner, although he was not. We'd laugh and talk, and the chef would ask what he was having. Inevitably he say "Surprise me," in a bright voice that was reminiscent of Southern Gentleman of some refinement, which I guess he was. Shortly thereafter, food would emerge, piping hot from the kitchen and we would eat. At the end of the meal he would have find someone to pay on occasion, as no one would accept payment for the food and alcohol of which we would have indulged. We were treated like that a number of places.

This was almost twenty years ago. He eventually got married, had children, life was good, the cotton was high, and people were just good folks waiting to happen.  

Lately he'd been going through some things.

Last Sunday he was found dead.

I will remember the good times, the jokes, the grand plans and the food. The rest will fade shortly, as time has a tendency to erase those memories of moments of weakness that diminish a good soul.

It is my hope that he finds peace.

A Quick Pre-Review - The Ruckers: Southern Royalty

Ramblings Post #250
Methinks that perhaps I am running out of life. Or at least interesting life. Or life worthy of writing about at the very least. Because of my stalled efforts with the State Bar of Georgia, and a certain perverse mix of perseverance and stubbornness, my life has devolved into a repetitive mix of wake, study, eat, practice test, eat, obsess about progress with aforementioned studying and practice test, and sleep. On the plus side, I do plan on adding workout to the mix. On the downside, how interesting can the gym be? 

One of their promo pics.

I don't watch reality TV, and I don't think this show isn't even out yet, but I feel compelled to comment on this because I know, or rather knew, these people. The house of my childhood is right next door to the Rucker family home, a stately manor on the outskirts of Lancaster, SC, where as wee little kids their older brother Aaron and I played in their "tree" house, never succeeded in finding a reason to get the dirt bikes unlocked and swam in their pool to get rid of the red bugs we picked up exploring the woods...the woods we explored to get red bugs just so we could get to swim in the pool. We jumped off the garage because reasons, had pine cone fights and stopped all activity to watch Spiderman at 4pm. Childhood was kinda fun, yes? 

Now to be clear, I haven't seen the Ruckers in forever, not since I ran into one of the older sisters when she was at Spelman, so this isn't an expose of any kind. I have no secrets to impart. But my mother still talks to these girls mother regularly, so I do get updates and news from time to time.

So, what to say? When I first saw the pilot/demo tape, it was called Raising the Ruckers, and the opening included the a family portrait on the beach that looked so majestic I have already stolen it in my mind. I just need to actually have some kids. The family is who they say they are, and it would be my guess that they aren't looking for fame as much as notoriety, which at least to me is substantively different.

Watching the preview one of the things I find it hardest to wrap my head around are the accents, a distinctive southern twang that solidifies that this show isn't from anywhere you've been before. I wonder had my family stayed in Lancaster, would I have sounded like that? The twang these girls have hits the ear with vibrato that demands remembering, and wonder if I'd be the same guy. People comment that I have a continental accent, meaning I sound educated, or more like the people on TV, so the perception of me is forgiving. This accent may take some getting used to in certain parts up north. 

I can surmise with confidence this however: it will probably be the least degrading reality show on
television, more akin to a feminized version of the wholesome Duck Dynasty than anything else. There may be a little drama if it's editors cut it just right, but all the girls come from a good family, and I seriously doubt Mrs. Rucker would allow them to embarrass themselves or anybody else. Having said that I now wonder how long the program will last, as drama is what makes good reality TV, and this one highly doubts the buffoonish antics that make up so much of the genre will be repeated here. 

This being what it is, I do want to wish them well. More, I hope that television doesn't damage them, as the medium has to a tendency to do, and that the family stays family. One day I'll have stop by and see how they're doing. Off season of course, when the cameras aren't there. Wait strike that. Don't want to look like an hanger-on. Maybe I'll just have my mom to tell Mrs. Rucker I said hi.

Barkeep. A round of bright red kool-aid. Because that damn stand never made a dime.

The Holidays are Here. Where is the food?

Ramblings Post #245
There is nothing quite like family. There just isn't. It is said that "home is the place that when you go there, they have to take you in." I don't know if it's true, but it's nice to think so. Looking at it as a whole, I can honestly say I've been blessed with a great family. And that about sums it all up.

I remember a comedian once joked that when he finally could afford to buy his parents a house, he made sure it had a circular driveway. That way, when he forgot why he didn't visit and dropped by, he wouldn't even have to turn the car around to leave. This holiday weekend, I went to visit family.

Now, let me preface this by saying I had been to my parents home just seven days earlier.

Visiting my parents probably is something I should be thankful , as their are many whose parents have passed on.  Still, there is the idea that once you reach a certain age, you should be treated as a adult...and at my parents house, I'm not really feeling the adult-ness. Let's start with the trip out. I rode with my brother, who had originally intended to leave on Tuesday night and get back on Saturday. But complications arose, plans were interrupted, etc and so on, and thus we didn't actually leave until Wednesday. Around 2-ish. Because he (my brother) hates travel schedules. And on the ride down, he pulled one of my dad's moves - around the just getting started mark, he suddenly feels tired. So I end up driving. Now...we end up talking the entire rest of the trip about the frustrations of office life, his plans for the future and more, but he was too tired to drive. As they say in the hood, I got got.

At the folks, I retrieved the power cable for my laptop I'd left the previous week (which crippled me when I found out the replacement could ONLY be ordered). I also introduced my mother to Solitaire on my little pad, which at first she thought was silly but then played 15 games in a row. An old drinking buddy of my brother's and later mine dropped by, looking like a man worn out by his onging his divorce. It looked like he'd dropped fifty pounds, which changed his appearance  to a shocking degree. It was even more shocking to hear from my brother say later that since the last he'd seen him our old drinking buddy had improved quite a bit. Life changes, man.

The next day, Thanksgiving, started with a dutiful trip to the grandparents, both now in their venerable years. And that's all I'm gonna say about that.

Thanksgiving dinner was a quiet immediate family affair, different from the extended family dance I'd grown up with. Afterwards, we did something unusual for my family...my brothers and I had a few beers and watched football. To you maybe it doesn't sound strange, but my father has never been into sports, so there is no family tradition of following any team. My mother is better, having played basketball when she was younger, but the idea of us sitting around the TV for sport really isn't something that happens at my house. There was a certain odd comfort about it.

Black Friday saw no bargain hunter strategy being employed from my mother's house. Instead,  I was
annoyed because I didn't wake up until late, and had to listen to my brothers explanation of why he had roused me : When he travels from home in Atlanta, "everyone always manages on their own". I wanted to explain two things to him - a) he wasn't home and b)he wasn't traveling with his regular travelers, so why would he think those rules applied? Some people get old and loosen up, some get old and turn into travel divas. Go figure.

In any case we trundled out to...well, the boonies to see the other side of my family. Our trip, which was supposed to be fairly quick stop by my mother's childhood home turned into three hours in the kitchen talking to one of my more theatrical aunts, who relayed stories and tales bringing us up to date and then some on the local goings on. This was followed by a trip to see my equally theatrical cousin, which filled in pieces my aunt missed and lasted probably an hour or two more than it should have. I'm seriously thinking about getting a movie camera and making a film called "Stories my Family Told", and just have them tell stories for an hour or two. The whole day was reminiscent of my childhood holidays, with laughter ringing off the walls catching up with the news of family.

Then, as we got home from a almost two hour drive, my brother said "get your stuff, we're headed back to Atlanta". He'd decided at some point that day...or maybe even the day previous...that Friday night he was going to sleep in HIS bed. Which meant gassing up and riding west for the promised land. At 9pm. After he'd been driving all day. I will give him credit though, he made it all the way.  I had a Five Hour in my pocket just in case, but he made it, no stutter.

It was family. It was fun. It was grounding and gave you a reason to soar. It was refreshing. Sometimes, in the dark of an empty house you forget things, important things. This was a good reminder.

So those were my holidays. And now...we study.

Barkeep. A chocolate milkshake. Whipped cream. No cherry. Yes, little bits of brownie would be nice. Or Oreo if that's all you got.

...and then came Sandy

Ramblings Post #205
Back in the day we used to say remark "you got me setup for failure" to indicate that one had been invited into a bad situation. It was kind of a cultural shorthand. These form over time and can be said to bind certain groups, almost unconsciously. I've recently heard a new phrase. This new saying signifies that the person being spoken of was true to the words of their exploits or did exactly what they said they did. It's usually used in the negative indicating  that the person in question lied. The common use, directed to towards someone who has been found to be false is "You ain't about that life." With that I mind, I think I can safely say, that Sandy IS about that life.

Times Square - Midday

I got people in Washington DC, and New Jersey. Sporty is up that way, as is Shade, and Singe is a Brooklyn girl as are few other folk I know. I haven't heard anything to get alarmed at yet, but I'm still concerned. And despite my general assessment from my time there that the whole city is a hype job, basically "a hicktown with more streets and less grass", there exists a psychological - cultural - iconic idea of New York City. It is the big apple. The city that never sleeps. If you can make it there you can make it anywhere.

And it's gone dark.

If you're not from America, you might not get it, and that's understandable. Or maybe you do. It is unsettling to us. 

The odd part is the storm didn't even directly hit NYC. Despite the flooding of Atlantic City, and extensive damage in lowing lying parts of New Jersey, where the storm actually did make landfall, it is the City that is the focus.  There is something about that place that holds our imagination, our hope. The power is out from Detroit to DC, and far north as Vermont, but we seem entranced by the vision of the NY metro now serving as waterlogged canals.  Our fascination is kinda hard to explain.

N-Line, completely flooded.

I'm not sure when we started calling them First Responders, but this is the time we should appreciate the dedication of the firemen, police officers, EMTs, and national guard willing to wade out into the darkness to help their fellow man. That takes courage in a sense that many of us only hope to have. To trundle off into the chaos, into the storm....well, damn.

I've heard from Sporty and Shade, a few others, my family is okay for now...but to everyone else out there my prayers go to you.

Barkeep. Water. But put a round for NYC on me.  Oh, and everybody else too. We still haven't gotten to the snowstorm part of this yet.

Things I meant to comment on...(Life Edition)

Ramblings Post #192
It's been a minute since I popped on here to update the world as to goings on of a prematurely graying, probably could still stand to lose a few more pounds, trying to get his plan together, middle aged African American male in the southern part of the United States. At one point in my history,  this update would have been an exciting tale of intrigue and seduction. Well, maybe not an exciting tale. And not much seduction either, much to my personal disappointment. And intriguing is contextual. So maybe this is just a couple of words on a digital page in a digital bottle out in the middle of a virtual ocean. That scream into the virtual darkness.

School

It would appear that after all this hard work and dedication, there are no more classes I need to qualify for a degree of Juris Doctor. It would appear, kinds souls, that I be done.

The new question is:  What have I done?

Not like it's over though. There is a foot and half tall stack of books in the corner with the words "bar prep material" written all over it. And I keep getting stories of it either being exhausting or mind-numbing. That's it, there is no positive or uplifting version of that story. It’s a matter of semantics : it will hurt bad or you will be badly hurt.  And you still might not pass.

So I got that going for me.

Family

My folks were in town for graduation. It was great seeing the folks, as I haven't ridden down to the old homestead in a minute.  See my elder relatives. Gets me a chili dog from the old spot and chill for minute. And hope my stuff is here when I get back.

House

In an odd stroke of luck, the police called last week to kindly inform me that they've figured out who broke into my house and are issuing an arrest warrant. Which is amazing, considering the success rate for cracking burglary cases is somewhere around 10% or less. Not that I expect to get my stuff back or anything silly like that. Okay, I like to believe that maybe he kept the TV. It was a nice TV. I would like the TV back.

Other than that I bought a book shelf (Ikea) and nice comfy chair to get my stuff organized and ready to start studying for the bar. 

For the past week I've been getting slaughtered regularly in Dwarf Fortress and putting games on the Playstation, but not actually playing them. I have number of games I've purchased over the years, off the bargain rack at GameStop or the used game rack at wherever, that I've never loaded up because I didn't have time to learn a new button pressing  scheme. 

But then bar prep starts soon. So I'm still not gonna have time to learn a new button pressing scheme.  Still, loading them up and seeing the start screens that one day I'll play gives me hope for the future. Okay, not really, but it's something to do.

My Cell Phone

My cell phone is broken. Well, not really broken, as it does makes calls..and texts, and pushes email. And lets me play the little word game on it. And the Google map is useful, it gives traffic updates! But the camera is broken, in that it has slid down in the housing and now half of all the pictures are black. Which is occasionally inconvenient. So I trundled over to the AT&T store to get a new one, because I have the insurance. I won't get the phone without the insurance. I've purchased two phones outright, because I didn't have the insurance, and they were expensive! So, I always get the insurance.

Only now, phone insurance has a deductible. Wait, what? My last phone had no deductible, what's this now? So the guy looks it up, and lo and behold guess what? The deductible is the same price as getting a new phone and starting a new plan.  Son of a...

I didn't take that many damn pictures no way.

Next

So what's Next? Like a lot of folks (due the economy), here I am halfway through the game hitting reset. I realize that there are no rules to life, there was no specific way that this was supposed to be done, but this makes me starting adding up the score in my head. And maybe I'm thinking of it in less than rosy terms because the things and events I had filled the space of my life with (life's little distractions) are gone because I stripped them all away in my effort to get to here. And now that I'm here, well, here is looking a) kinda empty and b) like like I'm in for a lot more work.

Maybe its that I've spent too many hours at my house alone staring at the walls, scared to go out because I might like it, then have to get unused to it quickly once this bar prep starts. Maybe its that I miss people, because the headcount in my house is one, and it doesn't look like its gonna increase anytime soon. I didn't realize how much I needed chicken plucking to keep me sane, and the people I worked with, as opposed to school and long bouts of studying alone, which may have started loosening the bolts on my psyche.  I may have to become a *gasp* coffee shop guy just to get some interaction. Or eat lunch out all the time.  Or something.

Barkeep. Let's extend your vacation. Because it feels like they outlawed hazing everywhere but law school. 

The Holiday Weekend

Ramblings Post #173
Sleigh bells ring, are you listening, something something, hear them ringing, we're riding tonight, I don't think this is right, walking in a winter wonderland. We mess around a build a snowman, then pretend that he is Parson Brown, he ask are you married, we'll say "no man, but you can do the job if you're in town," something something, dum de do, something something, hum hum hum, something night, walking in a winter wonderland.


I hadn't been home to see the folks in ages. Seriously, ages. We speak on the phone weekly, but for some reason that three hour trip has been harder and harder to square these past few years. Maybe because I'm a little scared that all the stuff I left won't be there when I get back. Scared maybe too strong a term, maybe "actively concerned." But after I didn't head down for Thanksgiving due to my enhanced educational situation, I felt compelled to head down for Christmas.

The Trip.

I live in a bubble, that is Atlanta. What I mean is that when social tension rears its head, it's a sudden reminder of things that happen so rarely I'd casually forgotten the caustic nature of their reality. No, it's not that I forget I'm black, in the south, it's that it's either usually not an issue or I've already taken the steps to minimize it. So when two guys started yelling at each other over a gas pump when I stopped for fuel it took me by surprise.

I'd pulled up, swiped my card and was gassing up. The lady at the next pump smiled at me and then I heard somebody yell loudly. Two pumps over a black guy was yelling at a middle aged white guy in a jeep. My trouble radar didn't go off, so I just watched silently. The black guy was fueling up, the jeep pulled off and I thought it was over. Then the black guy, middle aged black guy, yelled something and the jeep owner stuck his head out of the window and yelled back. At this point, the lady at the next pump dashed over to the black guy to calm him down. Seriously. Random black woman intervenes to keep random black man from doing something stupid.

The driver of the jeep pulls out of the station and goes across the street, so the whole thing diffused itself in a long fifteen seconds. I took note of the other odd couple in front of the station watching the whole exchange. The elderly white farmer in overalls and the young black man with dreads who after the jeep had pulled off looked at each other and shrugged.

I guess you never know. But then I probably should.

The Grand Folks.

I'm lucky enough that two of my grandparents have made it into their 90's. My mother's parents died when I was too young to feel the full effect, but I remember my mother's father as a kindly old gent who smoked a mean cigar and was always happy to comp us the bubble gum at his store.

My living grandparents are a lively bunch for old people, although my grandmother has been trying to guilt me into marriage and great-grandson for almost 20 years. She has other great grandchildren, many other great grandchildren, but the question of me always seems to come up. I like to believe every one of the grandkids still "holding" get this treatment, but I don't think so. My grandfather is planning on buying a golf cart so he cand drive around his property since he can't get around like he used to...when he was 80.

You hate to think that one day they won't be around. But then I think I've been blessed in this area more than I realized.

Christmas Day

Quiet. Family. A smattering of gifts but mostly just relaxing.

Hit Sporty up. Sent out a few Holiday texts.

Then driving back to Atlanta, because it's nice to have the stuff you left in your house still be inside your house when you get back. Driving back in the rain. Listening to the Christmas music...and the odd old school hip hop mix on some station out of Augusta.

The Day After Christmas

I had planned on relaxing and consuming enough water to clean my system out after the huge meals I'd eaten over the weekend. Well, that was the plan when I went to sleep Sunday night. Didn't work out.

Had a hearty All-Star at the Waffle House with my brother as I delivered his gifts to him. My brother is in a long term relationship, which has established its own Christmas rituals, so he didn't make the trip. I probably need to do the same myself soon. But that meal put me in back in the bed until dark...so like 4pm or so. Then trouble called. Or rather, my psuedo cousin did.

We rode over to a house party of a one of his buddies to watch the Falcons-Saints game. Not my usual fare, but I guess it will be soon, with small kids running about while the adults watched football and noshed. I have a problem drinking in front of kids, so I had a lot of soda and ate a lot of wings. And I've found that if the Cowboys aren't playing when something goes wrong or a coach does something stupid I can keep watching instead of cursing through the next three plays and turning off the TV before I start throwing things. So I watched and gave color analysis to the surprisingly underage crowd before calling it a night right after the whistle blew.

So It was a good Holiday weekend.

Kinda.

Barkeep, some of that Pale Moon beer or whatever it was they were drinking last night that I couldn't.

Christmas is Family...

Ramblings Post #162
I've had a long childhood. I came to that realization when talking with some people I hadn't seen in ages over the holidays. People my age have kids in college, and I'm still trying to score free drinks. I've got, or at least been told, that I have a lot of potential. The notebooks and hard drives full of half finished projects are a testament to that. The failed relationships only underline it. I need to do better.




Historically, as a child, my holidays were spent in the car. We'd rise and open presents, eat, then load up and go visiting. Visiting was riding an hour to see my father's parents, my grandparents, where my aunts and uncles would have gathered at the farm they'd grown up on. There we'd spend a few hours before bundling back into the car and visit to my mother's family, where again aunts and uncles would gather to celebrate the season. We visited my father's family first because they were closer. Invariably we'd ride back home in the dark.

Because this ritual continued from childhood through college and onto adulthood, I now dread spending the holiday in the car. But as the younger generation, my people are long lived, you kinda don't really have a choice.

For this year's holiday, my brother and I rented a vehicle to ride home in. A first. This is at the suggestion of my psuedo cousin, who explained the benefits of a lack of wear and tear on our own cars and issues with insurance, all of which made sense. I reserved a economy something and started packing.

Note: Packing for me involved all electronics that might be attractive to unwanted visitors. The PS3, computer, monitor, etc. No need to take chances.

The good folks muffed my reservation, so we got I guess "upgraded" to a mini-van. Which turned out to be not bad, further indicating my advanced age. It turned out to be roomy, handle well and not that bad on gas, which surprised me and my brother. After the ritual running around that accompanies all trips of any distance, we made pretty good time.

The family was good. We only dropped in on my Grandparents, who are getting on into the advanced section of advanced age. It was quieting, calming and made me wish for days gone by. It's hard watching people you've known your whole life get old. I hope it means I've got good genes.

The end of the day came when, after we'd trundled back home, I took a quiet few minutes and opened up the box of gifts Sporty had shipped me.

So, I wrote all that to say that as I grow older, the holidays have come to mean different things to me. And although I loathe the riding around on Christmas, I understand its purpose. My family is important, and due to my educational efforts and the time commitment necessary to make that happen, I've seen little of them lately. It's not about the gifts, it's the thought. It's larger than just me. That and morning after Christmas we awoke to snow, which got us on the road earlier than expected...and proved the handling of that mini-van was nice.

Thanksgiving...

Family Post #2
Sometimes you need to look at the people who were there before you, blazing the trail so you could walk easily. I'm not talking about the figures we read about in history books, Martin Luther King or Shirley Chisholm. I mean the people who paid the mortgage month in and month out, that ones that looked out, the heroes who get up every day and go to work so that small children can experience childhood as it was meant to be. The ones who worked hard so I could dream, the ones who sacrificed so I could have. I'm talking about family.

In the past, the trip home for the holidays was mandatory. Nothing could stop or hinder it, nothing could have impeded it. Then as I got older, things changed. It was okay to miss one. In the past loading up whatever I was driving and heading into the wilds of lower South Carolina were a must. It was in some ways a re-affirmation of my identity. Who I was, where I came from, who my people are.

In 2008 I wrote about my trip to see my family.

When I was younger, going to my aunt's house for Turkey day was a magical trip. They would start cooking on Sunday. Two or three turkeys. Chicken. Ham. Venison. Ribs. Rice and Gravy. Macaroni with Cheese. Stuffing. Green Beans. Butter Beans. Peas. Candied Yams. Buttered Rolls. And this is just what i can remember eating. There might be ten different desserts. Going to their house was a feast, there would be enough food for a hundred, with family and relatives you might not see again for months. Folks and neighbors would float in and out all day. It was time to catch up, to hear all those funny stories ....one day I'll speak on my cousin Ray...and reconnect with the folks who will care for you, no matter what. My brother thinks it's more important than the insanely over commercialized Christmas. I think he's got a point.

Earlier this year, one of my aunts on that side of the family had a stroke, and so we visited them. The usual buffet was set out in the kitchen, okay maybe food for fifty this time, and we all passed in and out of her room so that she could have visitors. She's come a long way, but she's got a ways to go yet. But her sense of humor hasn't been affected one bit. She cracked jokes with every other sentence, keeping us in stitches as we all made the best of what it was.

It's moments like this, when family means something.

Now, almost three years into law school, struggling with the daily grind of work and education, and the minutiae of existence that bogs us all down, I am once again not going home for the holiday. My auto, on the verge of being paid for, is of course having issues. And my brother's car is having issues, but then he's been payment free for a while. And finals are around the corner. And the job is in transition. Life is happening.

People were headed that way I could have gotten a ride, but nobody's coming back for a minute, and I've got study sessions and work...not to mention I'd like my stuff to be there when I got back. My house hasn't moved, the neighborhood is still "in transition". I couldn't have gotten down there and back on a reasonable schedule without way too much rigamarole, getting back too tired to do those things I need to do. My mother agreed, but then she's big on the school thing, and the keeping my stuff in my house thing.

I miss my grandmother, who I really wanted to see this year.

From 2008:
I also renewed the deal I have my grandmother that we're going to dance at my eventual wedding, which to her means she can't "go anywhere" and has to keep active. It's the same deal we've had since I was 15, although now she razzes me about great grand babies now instead of wives. I remember when I was a kid, that house my grandparents lived in seemed so big, and now it seems crowded whenever you have more than four people in the kitchen. And just like when I was kid, even from her wheelchair (sigh), I watched grandma take a few minutes to make sure my granddad's hair was okay.

When I talk about love...65 years like them is what I mean.

Life isn't fair. Just because.

Family is important. Today I'll probably head down to my uncle's for some turkey and see a cousin or two. Then head back to the house and start going through my flash cards, and over my outline...which I need to retype from scratch...and get my mind on what I need to do, to get through this next phase.

Still, it would have been nice to stand outside my grandmother's house and look up at the Milky Way. From her place you can see it.

Barkeep. My people drink brown.

Weekend recap: Making a run...

Ramblings Post #117
Somethings in life you gotta do. You gotta double down on 8s or 9s. You gotta own at least one time in your life, a leather jacket (even if later you join PETA). You gotta go see family. You gotta honor them that look out for you. Life is too long believe you can make it on your own, and too short for you to learn all you need to learn. Oh, you gotta, one time you gotta, look chance in the eye, take a deep breath and go for it.

It's not often that I get outside of Atlanta. I have friend who regularly posts Facebook photos from her jaunts to China, or Switzerland or where ever it is her job takes her, and another whose life has let him be able to honestly give himself the nickname "Globetrotter". I think he's in Stuttgart, Germany right now. I, on the other hand, joke about how I might have to renew my passport to go outside the perimeter ( the affectionate nickname for the highway that circles the city). Which is odd because I dream of traveling. So me heading out to town for family was kinda of a big deal.

I stayed in Friday and tried to do a little writing. That didn't work because I got distracted - making dinner, calling Sporty, eating dinner, internet, picking music to write by. Okay, so I did a little writing, maybe three paragraphs, but I need to get up to 5 or 10 pages a sitting. Not a day, a sitting. But I went to bed relatively early because I had a big day on Saturday.

As a suggestion, in the summer time, make sure the AC in your car works prior to long trips.

My plan was to get up between 6 and 7am, clean up the yard a bit - they only just finished repairs from the break-in, clean up the house and be on the road by something like 9am. So, at about 11, I got on the road. Yeah, Right.

The ride through the GA was hot. Like Africa hot. Picking cotton hot. Ya'll stop playing hot. I stopped in Augusta for water running about 20 minutes ahead of schedule, and decided to take I-20 to I-26 to Hwy 301 all the way to the little town of Santee, a few towns over from where I was going, instead of my normal ride through the back country. This way I could keep the breeze going by not having to slow down in all those little towns whose budgets run on speeding ticket money.

You ever go back someplace you hadn't been in a while, and something has changed...weirdly. Because for some strange reason, there was traffic on I-26. Like bumper to bumper Atlanta rush hour style traffic. On your standard, in the middle of nowhere, no city for miles highway. On both sides. The entire state of South Carolina has half the population of the city of Atlanta, and the only time I-26 is supposed to be crowded is USC is having a home game. Only this is miles and miles from the USC stadium. No accident, no construction work, just traffic. For no good reason. This is the highway where, as a youth, due to the lightness of traffic I regularly clocked speeds in excess of 100 - 120 mph (the car I drove closely resembled that of local law enforcement). This highway isn't supposed to have traffic!

I-26 on a Saturday afternoon, ain't supposed to look like this!

And if you've just driven for three hours, with no AC, at the apex of summer, and suddenly run into stop and go traffic, let's just say you aren't always the happiest person in the world.

Note to self: get AC fixed.

I finally arrived in my own personal sauna, only 40 minutes or so late.

My grand mother and grandfather were fine, with her imploring me for her great grandchildren (although there were at least six or seven in attendance) and him razzing me about not coming to visit more often. I saw my aunts, a few cousins from the DC area who don't get down much - including one with a surprise wedding announcement, and uncles who only now are starting to look a little old. My mom pulled out pictures of my grandparents 50th wedding anniversary - this year was their 70th - to embarrass more than a few of us with the candid awkward photos of youth. (My brother has hair!)

Family pictures would go here, but...
I'm still awaiting photo approval from some cousins.

After a few of hours joking my peoples and refreshing family connections, I went back to my parents house and from the heat and hunger passed out, er..went to sleep. Slept good too.

I rose the next morning and did a repeat in reverse to slide back Atlanta in time for co-workers wedding. They're both long time employees of the "Chicken plucking factory" and so there were a lot chicken pluckers in attendance. So it felt a little like I was at work. The invitation said 4pm. I got back, got showered, rode down to the Southside and showed up right at 4pm. Um...right.

The invitation said 4pm. For the uninitiated, had the real start time occurred between 4pm and 4:30, we'd have been on what African Americans considered "Colored People Time" or CPT. We breezed past 4:30 with the ambiance music still playing. Any start time after 4:30 for a 4pm event...well, then we just on N-word time. The actual ceremony started at 4:49pm. I know the exact time because I had turn off the game on my phone and the exact time flashed before my eyes. Please note the wedding party came in, the reverend ad-libbed, the vows were said, and the wedding party receded 5:14pm. I know this exact time because that's when I sent a text Sporty - former co-worker so she knew these folk - to voice my irritation.

Sporty found my irritation funny. Apparently the reception is the long part.

I briefly checked into the reception, then faded out. It would have been cool to hang out with the co-workers for a hot minute , but I was not in the mood for repeating myself from the day before. Took my well traveled butt home and crawled in the bed for some much needed Air Conditioned rest.

This week I'm gonna start getting some structure back. I beginning to think I need structure.

Barkeep...whatever you can put in a glass about yea big.

Muddle on, muddle on

Ramblings Post #93
It is what it is and it is what its gonna be. Sometimes life deals you the cards you've been waiting on, and it all falls together perfectly. Most times however, life deals you a mess, but you've got to play anyway. So learn to play like you've got a pair. At least a pair, because high card is straight BS.

So this weekend I had my last spring hurrah before finals, which really wasn't, saw a little family and woke up to find the NFC east had been mucked up beyond all recognition.

Saturday, after three hours of sleep on Friday, I awoke and muddled through a morning and afternoon of reading. I don't think anything stuck. I was a surprisingly unproductive day considering I did so much, but I would read, then read, then throw in some laundry, then read, then take out the garbage, and read...and I don't remember any of it. My prof who used to post the PowerPoint for class on Friday has moved it to Monday, so even that typing which gets me in the right frame of mind I wasn't able to do.

And I spent most of the weekend looking for the affidavit to get me out of jury duty...because the day I'm assigned is the day of one of my finals. Two weeks later and I would have just had to spend the day relaxing at the court house hoping I didn't get picked.

But Saturday night, I head over to the Estate for the Final Four - Jones/Hopkins party. I'm bar tending, which is usually a pretty sweet gig. But because one of the "new" hosts had decided to let some chick he was trying to holler at open a second bar, it was different and I didn't really need the hassle. Now, just so we're clear : I don't bar tend at these little private functions for the money. It's a nice bonus, but it ain't why I does it. I do it because it's a great way to meet people, and I love meeting folks.

So that wasn't cool.

And my understanding , because they didn't get the fight for the party in the end, that Roy Jones needs to offer refunds for his showing.

Sunday I spent reading more that I don't remember, and reviewing more that just now escapes me. I should have washed the dishes, cleaned up, reupholstered the couch, something, but reading was a waste of time...

At some point, I found out the Eagles had traded Donvan McNabb to the Redskins, which is troubling, but why I don't know.

Had dinner with my brother, who's online career is starting to grow a little bit. He's writing for a few sites with name recognition now, and might actually be able to make a career out this. It's a cobble together situation right now, but I'll give him credit, he is working it.

Additionally, from my defacto niece, who is 18 and a college freshman, I found out I'm not that far from still being cool, as I did know Waka Flocka Flame is a person, and not a new drink. My brother joking referred to to Waka Mocha Maraschino a couple times. Why I know he is would be a whole different story.

Tonight is study night for real. I got no choice. The power points are up, I gotta have salad for dinner...Zaxby's house salad is nice...and at some point I need to check on Sporty.

And I am, as my father used to say before his current, well, live action "meme"...I can't complain. Because ain't nobody listening anyway.

Christmas in the City/Country

Ramblings Post #77
It's Christmas time, oh, sing the joy of the holiday and let us rejoice in the company of men as we celebrate the birth of Jesus. Or...it's Christmas time and there is a sale at the mall, my list is long, my money short and let us come together to shake our booties, get bent on good liquor and get one last shot of freaky sneaky before NEXT year, when we'll never do something like that again...again.

It's Christmas Eve, and I'm broke. I spent my last few pennies on my Grandmother, my mother and Sporty. The last one of these had an emergency and I came through for her, but that means as one of my facebook friends put it..."due to the recession, the period for Christmas gift giving has been extended to Easter." I cut it close, but not so close as I forgot family. You gotta take care of family.

In a few hours I'll gas up the Pacer, pack up the gifts and head down to South Carolina for two days of holiday cheer. My mother is gearing up for her hip surgery, so other than the one trip to see my Grandmother, I might not have to spend the holiday in the car! Yay, me!

And if I'm really lucky, when I get back all my stuff will still be here. As I've mentioned several times before, I live in a neighborhood in "transition"...with no real neighbors. Which seemed like a brilliant concept when the transition was actually in progress, but now with it stalled, it just makes the house a tempting target. Oh well, you roll the dice.

I hollered at Sporty, and when I asked if her schedule while in town would permit any hang out time with yours truly (I'm fairly certain her girls have got her booked up trying to catch up) she said she would make time. Which means to some degree she thinks I'm important. Which felt good. And it will give me a chance to give her the book I made for her as her Christmas present, although she says I've already done too much for her already.

We'll see.

But the next week is looking right, come payday I'll be straight, I got a NYE party already lined up thanks to my RP, and I might have to start throwing out food I've got so much.

Barkeep. Give me some of that Eggnog Alizè!

It's starting to get a little cloudy

Family Post #3
Sometimes, people just get old is the way the nurse explained to Bill Murray's character in Groundhog Day. And I guess it's true. At least until we get that stem cell thing worked out...thanks George. And sometimes tomorrow actually comes, and then what? I guess I'll find out soon.

My grandfather has lived a full life, one of adventure and family, at once both full and yet confined mostly to the low country of South Carolina. And now apparently at ninety plus, we're not quite sure of his real age, one has to be realistic about how things are going. He's been for most of my life, well heck all of my life, pretty much a force of nature. Now, not so much.

You always knew it would be someday that they might leave you, but you just kinda figured someday was always in the future.

I never realized how orderly my life was until I tried to change it or until change came to me. We all prefer the gradual easing into new concepts, so seamlessly that we struggle to even remember how we functioned before now. But now it seems like everything is shifting at once, so many things in flux that the effect is that of a never ending earthquake tremor that you just keep hoping will end so you can get back to whatever normal is. Only earthquakes, or really in this case, life-quakes rarely leave things "normal."

Last time I saw him, he was grinning and showing off the ring tones on his new cell phone. My grandfather with a cell phone.

I worry now for Grandmother. They've been together 70 years, and I wonder if this won't be that which prematurely ends her. They seem inseparable.

Everyone in my family older than myself, I've known my whole life. And I'm not young anymore, so that statement resonates even more lately. I guess it only stands to reason as I slip onto the backside - or depending on your attitude, the good part or groove - of middle age that my parents and their parents would suffer the passage of time as well. I find it hard to believe that this wondrous consciousness just winks out of existence when the body fails us.

When I learned to drive my grandfather gave me one great piece of advice: Keep moving. It's one that I've been able to apply to more than driving. When you hit a rough patch in life, you keep moving, keep doing what you're doing no matter how little traction you seem to get, even if it's just creeping along, and like driving through a terrible patch of weather...you get to the other side where things smooth back out.

Life happens. Even when we've made other plans...but I got a whole lot of living left to do.

I talked to my brother and appears he's back on the right track. But it does make you think.

Barkeep. I know I'm not drinking...but a little moonshine from the good still.

Oh the Holidays.

Family Post #2
Where would I be without my family? I don't really think about it, until I realize that a lot of people I know have lost a parent, or both and are literally doing what they have to do - not just financially, but emotionally. My peoples is getting on in years. It's why despite the idea that this traveling for the holidays is getting old, I still making the effort. I mean damn, it's family.

For the first time in a while, I had five consecutive days off. I don't take a whole lot of time off, because I'm afraid I'll forget to go back to work. But then it really wasn't a vacation like break for real or nothing, because it was the holiday and so of the five days off, I spent three with family.

God love family.

My Christmas present to myself was that I got to spend an hour hanging out with my Grandmother. I know it sounds corny, but so what. She's my grandmother and so you can be mad.

I didn't get back into town until Saturday night, driving in the fog and wondering why folks was driving so damn fast. Maybe they had to go to work on Sunday. When I got back I hooked up with Spanky for a hot minute and had dinner at the City Cafe on 10th street. She's just finished renovations on the house, and it looks good. Kinda like it should have when she moved in, but that's a story so long even I'm not long winded enough to tell it. Again. This soon. Right now she's on a pendulum between modern woman and "fell and bumped her head", another long story I'll have to figure out how to tell soon. I have such interesting friends.

Sunday was the now usual Fish Fry at my RP's house for the game. He's a little scared it's starting to get out of hand, when people he didn't tell are starting to call and ask what time to be there. He's trying to keep in small, 10-15 people but he's so well known - and folks always figure what's a few more people - that these things, as I said, get out of hand. I reminded him that the season is almost over, so just ride it out for now. Unless we turn around it's 65 folks at the door.

I was good for the first game. Carousing, making drinks, laughing. Atlanta won so the house was happy.

Then the Cowboys played. Sporty and I chatted on BBerry during the game, as I lamented my teams complete fucking sell, snatching defeat from the mouth of victory. Her team did get in, so that's good. On the bright side, if you can call it that, my football season is over so I can concentrate on Law School. So I got that going for me. Yeah right. And now for the SuperBowl party, I don't even really need to watch the game. Great!

Just a reminder, in a couple of days it's back to pure sobriety for a few months. Maybe four this year. My liver can't wait. And school too! Wow...

Then I stumbled back into work. Never should have taken that damn time off. This short little period has been the "oh, we do need to get this done before the 31st for tax reasons" in repeat form again and again and again. I so contemplated not going in today, but that little buster who is my backup already took off, so I was trapped. I swear, I'm gonna start buying lottery tickets regular at this rate.

Barkeep, something smooth.

Ah the Holidays...

Family Post #1
Sometimes you need to look at the people who were there before you, blazing the trail so you didn't have to. I'm not talking about the figures we read about in history books. I mean the people who paid the mortgage month in and month out, the leaders who went to college, the heroes who get up every day and go to work so that small children can experience childhood as it was meant to be. The ones who worked hard so I could dream, the ones who sacrificed so I could have. I'm talking about family.

This weekend, after spending the first part of the week sweating out two legal memos, I went and spent some time with family. I loaded up the ride, scooped up my brother and headed into the wilds of lower South Carolina to re-visit where I come from. And maybe remember why I'm headed where I'm headed.

I would say I first went to visit my people in the country, but that wouldn't be right, because ALL my people is from the country. So let's just say, I went to vist my maternal folks first.

When I was younger, going to my aunt's house for Turkey day was a magical trip. They would start cooking on Sunday. Two or three turkeys. Chicken. Ham. Venison. Ribs. Rice and Gravy. Macoroni with Cheese. Stuffing. Green Beans. Butter Beans. Peas. Candied Yams. Buttered Rolls. And this is just what i can remember eating. There might be ten different desserts. Going to their house was a feast, there would be enough food for a hundred, with family and relatives you might not see again for months. Folks and neighbors would float in and out all day. It was time to catch up, to hear all those funny stories ....one day I'll speak on my cousin Ray...and reconnect with the folks who will care for you, no matter what. My brother thinks it's more important than the insanely over commercialized Christmas. I think he's got a point.

Earlier this year, one of my aunts on that side of the family had a stroke, and so we visited them. The usual buffett was set out in the kitchen, okay maybe food for fifty this time, and we all passed in and out of her room so that she could have visitors. She's come a long way, but she's got a ways to go yet. But her sense of humor hasn't been affected one bit. She cracked jokes with every other sentence, keeping us in stitches as we all made the best of what it was.

It's moments like this, when family means something.

Then before it got too late, I went to visit the paternal peoples. My grandfolks are nearing 90, and my grandfather still won't sit still. He's such a busy body, my grandmother made the old boy get a cell phone. Yes, my 90 year old grandfather has joined the cell phone generation, showing off his new phone and even playing me a few of his custom ring tones. This was one of life's jaw dropping moments.

I also renewed the deal I have my grandmother that we're going to dance at my eventual wedding, which to her means she can't "go anywhere" and has to keep active. It's the same deal we've had since I was 15, although now she razzes me about great grand babies now instead of wives. I remember when I was a kid, that house my grandparents lived in seemed so big, and now it seems crowded whenever you have more than four people in the kitchen. And just like when I was kid, even from her wheelchair (sigh), I watched grandma take a few minutes to make sure my granddad's hair was okay.

When I talk about love...65 years like them is what I mean.

How deep in the country was I? Well my people have a gas stove...powered by the gas tank in the yard. At night you can see the stars in the sky (and if you think that's easy, go outside and try it). Furniture and fixtures from the 1970s...and that's the new stuff!!! I mean thirty five minutes from town...where the town is forty minutes from a slightly bigger town...which is an hour from any reasonable sized city. Both times.

I've been to the middle of nowhere. It's where I'm from. And my family is still there.

Barkeep. I think my uncle used to drink that Crown. So set'em up.