Thanksgiving

The first year I cooked Thanksgiving dinner was out of necessity. It was my second year of law school. We had the entire week off. My sister called the Thursday night before Thanksgiving to tell me her back was out and to ask me to please drive to Nashville to help her. A friend and I were living in a professor's house while he was on sabbatical that year. It had a very Frank Loyd Wrightish feel. I was in the oddly positioned "den" of the house when the phone rang Friday morning. I turned off the vacumn to answer it.

My mother was in tears on the other end and asked me to please stop at their apartment in Atlanta on the way to Nashville because she and my dad had something to tell me. She said something else about him leaving and driving to South Alabama. I couldn't really make everything out, but I kind of felt like I was starring in an afterschool special about children of divorced parents all of a sudden. I just remember staring out those full length windows at the spring over which the house was built and wondering how I got there.

I gave up on the cleaning and just got on the road. When I got to the apartment, they were both there and told me that after 33 years of marriage they were separating. I just went numb and tried not to look either one of them in the eye. They asked me to share this news with my sister. "It would be better for her to hear it in person."

By the time I got to Nashville, Sissy had been to the doctor and was scheduled for surgery on Tuesday. She was in so much pain it was barely being managed by the pain meds (nearly all of which cause her to throw up she began to discover that week) and she didn't really register what I was telling her about our parents. It's weird what I remember about that week. I don't really remember my conversation with her, but I do remember the trip her friend Susan and I took to the Green Hills Grille to get take out. Susan ordered tuna tatayki and it was the first taste I ever had of it. I also remember realizing that I was going to have to handle this by myself.

My parents announced that they would be arriving for her surgery as well. As usual, there was some rigamarole about logistics that was going to require that they ride together. When one or the other of them protested, I told them not to bother coming at all if they couldn't spend 3 hours in the car together.

The surgery went fine--it was outpatient and she was back home that night. We made a large pallet on the floor in the den so she wouldn't have to climb the stairs to her bedroom.

The key to our Thanksgiving meal is my grandmother's corn bread dressing. My mom and I made an effort to pick up a few other things on Wednesday, but I knew I would have to try to make Nanee's dressing. I called her and got the recipe. She lamented the fact that she had already thawed out the turkey in anticipation of us being there and I basically told her to stuff it.

The dressing that year was edible, but it was not what we were used to. The corn bread was too sweet. You see, having never bothered to help Nanee that much in the kitchen (other than mashed potatoes--those have been my specialty for years now) I had no idea that the Jiffy mix cornbread is entirely too sweet for dressing. We ate it, and in a back handed way we were all thankful to be together. In reality, my parents never really lived any more separately than they already were (they were already maintaining two households) after their big announcement the week before Thanksgiving that year. Instead, they made the choice to struggle through a very rough time together.

This year, we'll be back at Nanee and Pop-aw's. We'll mix the dressing up in the same big dish pan that we used to use to shell peas. We'll scrounge around for trivets at the last minute and Nanee will have a fit if we put that Elvis one out on the sideboard. Instead, we'll use those God awful wicker ones she is so fond of. Daddy will offer a prayer of Thanksgiving that will make all of us cry. We'll sit at the table in the dining room with the horrible blue carpet and dated wall paper and Nanee will scold us for laughing so loudly. Sissy will oo and ah over the sweet potato balls and Pop aw will say that he can't eat too much sweet stuff or it will upset his stomach. Sissy will once again lament the fact that we don't keep the tea pitcher on the table and get up to get everyone some more to drink. Pop-aw and Mom will only want about "this" much. Somebody will mention the time I got stuck in the pond and Pop aw will talk about taking me to McDonald's and putting ketchup on my french fries. When Nanee asks if anyone wants dessert, Daddy will rub his belly and say not right now. Pop aw will just want a little piece. Mom will ask who wants coffee and get it started. The dogs will get up Daddy will yell at them to lie back down. Etta will be very ashamed of herself because of this. Wiley will still want something to eat.

I don't know what Will will be doing. Last year, he really liked the sweet potatoes. He generally likes broccoli, so he'll probably enjoy the broccoli casserole. He'll be entertaining us, I can promise you that. I will be very thankful that he's there and that we had one last opportunity (I'm guessing) to sit around that table in that room where we've spent so many hours. Even though he probably won't remember it when he's older, we will. My grandparents will remember having him in their home. We'll have at least a few memories to share with him from that house that holds so much of our childhoods. I'll be thankful I've spent the last 5 years in the kitchen with Nanee, learning all her secrets to that famous dressing.

Happy Halloween

Penguin, originally uploaded by IThinkYouShould.

Trouble in River City

I live in Mayberry. Actually, I live in the little town where the television shows "October Road" and "I'll Fly Away" are/were filmed, but my friend Leslie calls it Mayberry.

Every Halloween the downtown merchants hand out candy during the day to trick or treaters. Well, most of the downtown merchants do that. We don't because we are a bunch of scrooges. In any case, downtown is crawling with little cows, penquins and skunks (it seems the black and white trend has carried over to Halloween costumes this year).

We have to deal with a lot of mentally unstable people in our office, and a gentleman left our office in a huff earlier promising to be back with his "protest signs" pursuant to his first amendment rights. We've been waiting for his return, but so far nothing has materialized.

Or so we thought. I just went to the bank next door and one of the tellers mentioned some crazy man being out there. Ends up he showed up with a sign proclaiming that our office only handed out tricks and she told him to leave.

I'm kind of disappointed that the trouble in river city was so easily resolved.

Scene: Publix in suburban Atlanta; 1:00pm on a Friday afternoon

Young(ish), professional(ish) looking woman (YPLW) orders her sandwich over in the deli area and heads over to check out after grabbing some sea salt and black pepper kettle chips because she read about them on some blog.

Three lines are open: (1) Express lane, (2) Aisle 6 and (3) Aisle 1. YPLW chooses the express lane after scoping out the competition and finding lots of people doing their weekly shopping. She remembers those days of having such a luxury and tries not to be jealous. Kinda like she tries not to be jealous of all the women she sees walking while she's driving to work every morning.

Taking her place in line behind the middle-aged African American woman, YPLW notices that the woman is singing aloud. To John Mayer. "I wanna run through the halls of my high school. . ." etc. Not only that, she's dancing--including adding a sassy little flip of the head every time the music reaches a certain point.

In front of the woman is the wannabe cowboy with faux cowboy boots, jeans with a permanent crease on the back leg complete with a Cloroxed stripe, a case of corona, a case of Sam Adams Boston Lager, a bag of potatoes, two packs of Camels and two packages of pork chops. He keeps looking at the woman like she's possessed, but she just keeps singing. And bopping.

Love Etta

Love Etta, originally uploaded by IThinkYouShould.

My sister had always called Etta "Ettatalia" or "Ettasmellia." She called me last night to tell me that while he was running through his "God Blesses," my nephew said, "God bless Ettazalia."

Thirteeeee

Thirteeeee, originally uploaded by IThinkYouShould.

Movin' on Up

Four years ago, I was still in a bar exam fog. I graduated in May, started bar review classes within days, studied really hard starting July 4th, got the massage of a lifetime on Monday and then sat through two days of hell on Tuesday and Wednesday. Thursday, I finished packing up my apartment. Friday, August 1, 2003, a truck arrived in Macon bright and early and I left that town for the second time in my life to begin anew.

The previous year had been hard--very hard. On top of the hives/steroid weight, I had added another 10 pounds of Big Firm Summer Associate lunches weight. I had lost confidence in my scholastic abilities and interviewing prowess. Therefore, when I got a call from an old family friend offering me a job practicing with she and her husband I jumped at the chance. I was determined that the payoff for living in this small town in metro Atlanta (as opposed to my plan to return to my beloved DC) would be owning a house.

My mom had been kind enough to drive down and scope out the market so that I didn't have to waste precious study time to do so. She narrowed my choices down to three and I took one afternoon to come check them out personally. It was clear to me which one I wanted.

My house was built in the 30's and had lots of hidden potential. It had been a rental house for several years before the previous owner purchased it. She had made some changes (most of which I hated), but it was mostly covered in ugly carpet, linoleum and wallpaper and sporting 11 long feet of white Formica in the kitchen. The driveway was completely washed out when my mom first looked at it, but the lot and the house were the perfect size for me.

My parents, of course, were right there with me that muggy August morning when I watched the truck being loaded. I didn't have the experience of standing and watching the truck pull away since Mom and I drove on ahead to the new house. That didn't stop me from taking a minute to remember the scene 3 short months earlier of watching A's caravan of U-Hauls and family cars pull away while I stood on the porch crying and waving. There was no one there to see me off that morning--just lots of memories.

In the four years I've lived in it, I've built two fences, paved the driveway, pulled up the awful carpet, linoleum and Formica, re-roofed it and painted. I've tried to unearth the character and beauty that got covered up from years of renters and people without a vested interest in things. I've planted and tilled and transplanted and watered. My dad and I (and even my mom one Saturday) have left plenty of sweat in the yard. And I love it. I love my little house. I wish I could pick it up and take it with me when I go.

I think I knew I had to go the day that a client told me she grew up across the street. She said that a little old lady lived in my house and she always baked cookies for the neighborhood kids. Since I'm not 87 and I own an 80 pound dog and NO CATS, I'm fighting hard against fulfilling the destiny of a one bathroom house in my little town. I can feel the lure of it sucking me in and urging me to stay. After encountering a feeble mouse or baby rat yesterday morning while watering, I've even contemplated getting a cat.

It's definitely time to move on.

Summer Solstice

Twelve years ago I was in the throes of beginning my love affair with DC. I arrived on Memorial Day and visited the Mall with my new roommates who had driven in from Texas. I was attending class at American and working on the Hill and loving every minute of it.



On June 22, 1995, after summer had officially begun, I worked as usual. The staff ass and I were going to go to the office softball game after work, but we were banned from driving by ourselves to Anacostia. Instead, she drove me to my dorm in Tenleytown so that I could change clothes and we headed back to the Hill. We met up with everyone at Bullfeathers (the team sponsor) for burgers and beer. I finally felt like a grown up (getting to drink the beer without having to worry about getting carded since I was only 20) and was enjoying that famous intern nightlife for the first time.



I had to jump on the Metro before midnight (just call me Cinderella) and got back to the dorm within 30 or 45 minutes. I had a note to call a family friend who lived in Alexandria "no matter what time" I got in. Considering she had two week old twins, I skipped the phone call. I went to bed excited about my day and anticipating my mom and sister's arrival the next day.



The phone rang at 7:14 am. I jumped out of bed and grabbed the phone on the second ring hoping not to disturb my roommates. Somehow I knew if was for me.



It was my dad. "Have you talked to Laura?" No. I got in too late to call. "Oh. Well, I really don't want you to be alone." I immediately thought something must have happened to my mother. He hemmed and hawed and finally said, "I hate like blazes to tell you this, but Heath was killed in a car accident last night."



Heath was my high school boyfriend. We had broken up the year before when I was home for spring break.



My initial reaction was actually relief. I was relieved that the call was not about my mom. Things quickly shifted and in those first seconds of summer, the course of my life was changed.



I hate early morning phone calls. They always take me back to those awful first moments of June 23, 1995. As I'm going to the phone, I always think, "Is my life going to be the same after this call? Are these the last few moments I'll have of this peace?" I'm immediately back on that third day of summer every single time.

The Famous People are on the TV

The television show they filmed in town several months ago is premiering this week after Grey's Anatomy. From what I've seen on the commercials so far, most of the outdoor scenes were filmed here--except for the college shots. I think those were at Agnes Scott College.

Just remember--those leaves are fake. They filmed the pilot in April. It was very confusing.

Big D

I headed to the Big D (and I do mean Dallas) this weekend to catch up with A. and M.

Oh the humanity involved in flying. But that's another post. Trust me that traveling with a "professional" cheerleading "team" and their MOTHERS warrants its own post.

A. and I met in law school. She was in my small section, and as we sat around on the first day scoping each other out, I thought--now she's cute. Looking at us on paper, one would wonder how we became such good friends. She cute and curly and skinny and flirtatious and trendy. I'm conservative in every sense of the word. We were fortunate enough to have the same walk home which led to some early conversations. Those conversations led to invitations and before we knew it, we counted on each other.

She has always brought out my fun side. Not because she demands a party wherever she goes but because she accepts me for exactly who I am. I am comfortable enough in my own skin to let down my guard around her and have a good time. And she's not afraid to hold a mirror to my face when I need it.

In the middle of the hive epidemic, we were on the way to class and were discussing what the cause could possibly be. I kept insisting that I was not stressed and she just stopped dead in her tracks and looked at me like I was crazy. She relayed conversations to me that we had in the previous weeks and forced me to admit that I was having a hard time handling everything.

When we graduated, she moved to Florida to study for the bar. We lived next door to each other at that point, and I still remember how sad as was as Etta and I watched her pull away in the ghetto blaster knowing that it was highly unlikely that we would ever live so close again.

Etta and I were lucky enough to have her come live with us about a year later for a few months. Then we had to repeat the driving away scene too soon.

About a year after that, I was on the way to Nashville when she called to let me know that M proposed. A year after that, they tied the knot and moved to Dallas.

I knew their marriage would be good, but my favorite part of the weekend was our conversation about how much better it was than she expected. "I knew M. would be a good husband, but he's a better husband than I ever expected" she said with tears in her eyes. This, from the girl who doesn't cry. I know it's been tough to leave the cocoon that Orlando provides for both of them, but they have certainly grown closer as a result.

And as hard as it was to walk away last night at the airport (as we both had tears in our eyes), I know without doubt that I have been blessed with a true friend of the heart. Just when I think my cup runneth over in that category, God blessed me again.

State of the Union

We used to have an office raffle for the one state of the union ticket that we received. I never won. Instead, I've always watched it on TV.

There was a changing of the guard tonight that most people won't notice. Cynthia McKinney (D-GA) and her gold keds with ribbons as laces were missing from the floor. She always sat on the end of the row so she could greet the president as he comes down the aisle.

And it was also a hoot to see John Boehner walking in with the president. He was a good friend of one of my bosses and would stop by every afternoon around 5:45 so that they could head out to make the rounds together.

I still love politics of politics.

The Hives

I guess the hives have been on my mind because we are approaching their 5 year anniversary.

After ending my first year of law school on a high note and spending the summer studying in Europe, I hit the downward slope big time in my second year. 9/11, not getting a call back from The Firm I Was Destined To Work For, getting a call back and an offer from a firm equally as great as The Firm (and better in most people's minds--including Forbes) but never being completely comfortable with it, my parents struggling mightily in their 30+ year marriage, living in a house that was one big allergen--UGH. I decided to work on my attitude. I made a great orzo salad with shrimp and feta and pine nuts and I went for a walk.

I hate exercising. Hate. It. So, the fact that I took a walk around the neighborhood was big. And that night, I had a hive on my thigh.

In the shower the next morning, I noticed several more hives on my thigh in addition to some developing on my arms. It was the exercise, I joked. I always knew I was allergic to exercise. Julie forbade me from eating any more of my delicious orzo due to all the possible causes in it. It probably cost my food budget for a month--but, I had to throw the rest away.

I took benedryl and they only got worse. I went to the health center; they gave me what is famous on campus as being the "pink pill." It had to be sugar. I finally went back and got a referral to an allergist. All of that took about 1 1/2 weeks--the whole time, I'm covered in hives.

Julie came to Mom and Dad's for a weekend, so I went up as well. As we were returning to their house from Atlanta, I mentioned that part of lip was numb. I was also feeling a little wheezy. That got me my first prescription for an epi-pen.

I finally went to the doc who's accent was so thick that I honestly had a very hard time understanding him. He ran some tests and started me on the lovely drug protocol. 1 Zyrtec, one pepcid and 10 mg of prednisone in the am. 1 Zyrtec in the pm. Needless to say, I slept. And still had hives. All the tests came back negative for anything with a name--no new allergies, no lupus, etc. It just showed that I have a weakened autoimmune system. We changed it one Allegra in the am instead of the Zyrtec and upped the prednisone to 20 mg.

Now, when I'm not sleeping, I'm eating. And I still have hives. Finally, we up it to 30 mg of prednisone and added one of those medicines for osteoperosis (like the one that Sally Field is now advertising).

No more hives. Instead, it's extreme hunger, weight gain, aggression, and sweating. Good grief!

In the middle of all of this, we went to Orlando for spring break. We were heading to a party with some of M's grad school friends, and boy did we owe him. He had been to more than his share of law school parties, so we were happy to return the favor. A and I went to the restroom after dinner before heading to the party and I asked if my eyes looked swollen to her. It looked as if I had water blisters under my eyes. Oh god--

Within an hour of so, my eyes were practically swollen shut and half of my bottom lip was swollen. There was a Will Smith movie not too long ago where he had a similar reaction. There I sat at this party--we were icing my eyes and telling everyone I got in a fight--and I looked like a freak of nature.

The next night, we were downtown and I just remember my ass itching off. I went to the restroom and my butt was literally COVERED with hives. Between that and A & M getting in a fight, I was just ready to go home that night.

Soon thereafter began the sweating--oh lord the sweating. I would get to class and be freaking out because I was just dripping in sweat. A would force feed me water and fan me, but nothing would help the sweating. I started having to wear black every day since I would sweat through everything else.

By the time I started work that summer, I had put on 30 pounds from the time I interviewed. And I sweated--all the time. Is it any wonder I didn't get a job? One day, I had on a silk shirt, so I had stuffed some toilet paper in my pits in hopes of not ruining my shirt. Shortly thereafter, another summer associate came by my office and asked if I could help him figure something out on the computer. I went in his office and checked it out. As I headed back to my space, I saw the wadded up toilet paper in the hall. Nice one.

Anyway, they never really figured out what caused the hives. I'm obviously prone to such reactions, and I think the stress was too much. By the time I started my third year, I didn't have a job, a clue what I wanted to do or the GPA I started my second year with, but my parents seemed to be ready to make it work and I wasn't saddled with a job I was going to hate. After a horrible summer of tapering off the roids and suffering in the polluted city, I moved into one new space--and then another--and enjoyed getting to know my new dog. I took the anniversary of 9/11 off and mourned as I could not the year before. I bought some fat girl clothes and slowly stopped sweating so badly. I tried to have some fun and savor my last months of freedom and weekday shopping.

I'm still not sure what the lesson of the hives was supposed to be. Maybe that I need to quit internalizing everyone else's troubles and expectations. Maybe it's that I need to follow my gut when I'm making decisions. Maybe it was that an entire box of cereal is too much to eat in one sitting--especially if you're sitting in your bed at 10:30.

Every now and then, I have a hive first thing in the morning and I'm filled with a sense of dread. However, so far (knock on wood), I've only had one swollen lip and no big outbreak of hives. I can't really say I miss them, but they sure did give us a lot of laughs in a year that was not very funny.

Not exactly what I envisioned

I decided that I would go to law school when it became apparent that I could not make it on Broadway. I figured that I would act in the courtroom instead of on the stage. When I envisioned my legal career, it included wearing beautiful suits and arguing in front of a judge or closing some big deal in a big fancy conference room.

Then I went to law school. My vision of practicing law at that point included sitting at a desk most of the day researching and writing. It still included getting in front of a judge every now and then, but most of my visions included me sitting at a desk.

I had a job the summer after my second year of law school that actually combined my two visions. I hated the job. I didn't necessarily hate the work--I didn't think-- but during my third year of law school, when I tried to envision what I would be doing in a few short months, I drew a blank.

I can assure you, that in none of those visions or dreams did I ever envision a day like today.

I spent most of the morning finalizing a brief I've been working on this week. That goes along with my vision of life as a lawyer. However, just as we were getting lunch, all hell broke loose.

Part of our practice involves helping incapacitated adults. One of them has been progressively deteriorating and he became threatening today. We ended up calling 911 and after being restrained by six police men with tasers, he was rolled out on a stretcher to be committed.

That's not exactly what I envisioned.

Randomness

• Did anybody else TIVO President Ford's funeral? No? Just me? Ok.

• I survived not only the virus of death that managed to close our office on Friday morning, but also two tornadoes in three days hitting my little town. Etta and rode out the one last night in my "basement," a/k/a really tall crawl space, with my laptop streaming live video of the news

• They have finished their filming of "October Road." Apparently, there are some college fraternity stories involved. I went in to the local lunch place to pick up our called in orders several weeks ago, and they were slammed. Sitting at the counter--right next to the cash register--were three of the male stars. I've looked them all up and none of them were really recognizable. One has recurred on "Seventh Heaven," one of the few shows on television that I've never really watched. Another had a credit for that Eminem movie. Some typical (for my hometown) soccer mom who is swimming in the shallow end walked up to them and asked if they were with the "movie." They said yes and she proceeded to ask who was in it. "You know, we all want to see the famous people." They told her that they were the male actors filming today and then the 7th Heaven guy apologized for disappointing her. They were very nice and enjoyed hearing that the house in which they had filmed the frat party belongs to our former mayorwho once shot his neighbor's burglar alarm off of the house because it kept going off while they were on vacation.

• Is it wrong that my dog lies perfectly still while I fast forward something on TIVO, but when I delete something, she jumps up and runs to get in the bed? Or that my nephew's favorite song is the General Hospital theme?
  

Christmas 2006

Things about Christmas 2006 I would like to forget:

• Waking up on 12/22 and throwing up from taking too much cough medicine
• Going to work anyway and throwing up at work
• Having to ask my dad to drive down to pick up my grandparents and myself
• Taking Etta out 4 times during that night to have soup ass
• Getting incredibly frustrated because my mother made a few, non-fatal mistakes in the grocery shopping
• Getting frustrated and snapping at my grandmother on Christmas Eve at lunch
• Waking up Christmas morning with no power
  
• Pop-aw's "episode" on Christmas night
• Getting a call from my dad that Etta was throwing up blood
• Getting up 3 times with Etta on 12/26 to have soup ass

Things about Christmas 2006 I would like to remember:

• Hearing and seeing Will say "Sissy" and knowing he knew it was me
• Having my 85 and 82 year old grandparents present and healthy for yet another
  Christmas
• Cooking with my grandmother and learning yet another secret to her famous dressing
• My sister's exclamations of joy upon biting into the Christmas Eve tenderloin
• Will's OCD and excitement over his new car on Christmas morning
• Will's new ability to give hugs and his impeccable timing in giving me one as I opened my present from him--and seeing how it affected my dad
  
• Carrying out the traditions of Christmas morning for the 31st year of my life

So much of my life has changed since I was a child--different houses in different towns. However, our traditions of Christmas have followed us no matter where we landed. Being able to have that for one more year, being able to watch my grandparents love my nephew and vice versa, being able to watch my parents continue to work on their relationship after 38 years, being able to watch my sister be a mother--these are the things I am thankful for each time we are together.

Christmas Spirit

My dad is/was a choir director, so Christmas has always meant music to me. I sang all through high school in the Serenaders--a show choir at school. We did 30 performances between 12/1 and midnight at 12/24. We sang at Kiwanis, DAR, elementary schools. The week before Christmas we sang every single day at one of the local banks at 11am and then at McDonald's at 12pm. Our last performance was before the midnight mass at the Catholic church on Christmas Eve.

Far and away, my favorite performance every year was the men's prison Sunday school class. However, it wasn't our performance that was the highlight; it was the prisoners' performance. We would sing for them, they would sing for us, and then we would all sing together. My pediatrician, Dr. Harrison, and Mr. Mac taught the class and arranged for us to come. Mr. Mac would lead the group singing. They had a songbook that everything from "Amazing Grace" to "If You're Happy and You Know It." Hearing the beautiful harmonies and voices that filled that room and imagining what led those men to this place would always make me so thankful for what I have. It also made me hopeful. I would look in their eyes and hear their stories and believe in the power of redemption. And isn't that what Christmas is all about?

When I lived in DC and while in law school, the song "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year" became a big joke with Leslie and me. Her parents were pretty recently divorced and mine soon temporarily lost their minds. Spending the holidays shut up with these people who clearly did not like each other (in my case) or ping ponging back and forth between them (in Leslie's case) was clearly "the most wonderful time of the year." Anytime one of us would start complaining, the other would just break out into song (well, I broke out more than Les. She's not the breaking into song type). I always missed all of the singing that I used to do and thought maybe that contributed to my scrooginess.

This year, between my community chorus commitments and church choir commitments, I've felt like I'm back in the Serenaders. However, I told my mom on Sunday that I still felt like I was missing out since I hadn't been to the prison. I was talking to another Serenader this afternoon who is 8 years my senior. We never sang together, but when he mentioned lacking the Christmas spirit, I said, "we need to go to the prison." He knew exactly what I was talking about.

I know Dr. Harrison is getting very old. I'm pretty sure Mr. Mac passed away (I sure hope they sang "if you're happy and you know it wear a smile--TEE HEE" at his funeral). I just hope that someone is continuing that wonderful tradition that has touched so many lives and set the standard for the Christmas spirit for us all.

They're Gone

and all I have to show for it is this lousy parking ticket.

They must be planning on coming back, though. The Maritime Travel Agency has the sign that dangles from the side of the building back up, but the window still says it's a vet office. Also, the same day they were filming, a little old lady came across the street to the children's consignment store about the same time I did. As the owner of the store and I were talking about it, she mentioned that they would be back in two weeks. It's been quiet this week.

I think I was bemoaning the fact that I missed Etta's chance at getting discovered. Who wouldn't love that face? They dog that they had for the shoot was cute--in the way that all dogs are cute. Really, he was a shaggy black mutt. And entirely too well behaved to be going to the vet. Etta, with her gentle leader on, would have given a much more believable performance.

Little buddy had his first overnight stay away from his mom on Saturday night--and everyone survived. Unfortunately, he was sick, and his Aunt Sissy is an idiot who gave him his medicine at 9:00pm. Therefore, he was ready to go from about 12:30 to about 3:00am. Etta really wondered what in the world we were doing awake at that hour. So much so that she didn't really seem to mind when Will followed her under the covers. She always tolerates him very well, but she didn't even move while he crawled all over her. Luckily, he's feeling better now.

Got to get to work on the Thanksgiving meal. The only firm request I've gotten is sweet potato balls. Nanee's dressing is a given, though. Hope everyone has a great holiday next week!

There are famous people outside my window

UPDATED TO ADD: Now the famous person is gone. They turned this building across the street into "K[something I can't read] [something else I can't read] Vetinary Care" and she walked in the fron door about 4 times. There was one guy propped up against the wall reading a magazine or something for the first 2 shots. Then they added in another guy who crossed in front of her before she went in the door. Finally, they shot her coming out of the building. Then she hopped in a white van and left. Then they shot some lady with a shaggy black dog walking out of the door twice. Now, they are shooting a truck parked on the street. Now, everyone is packing up their orange leaves and heading to the next shoot. Excitement.

end of update

Famous is a relative word, I guess. The "October Road" crew is setting up a shot (complete with a guy carrying those confounding orange leaves around) across the street from my office right now. In fact, they are all congregating in front of the window I used to stare out of all day before we moved across the street (ah, the things I've seen out of that window). I never watched "That 70's Show" so I wasn't sure I would recognize the most famous person in the show. I saw a girl in scrubs under her camel color coat, and from behind, I thought it could be her. My secretary confirms that she is the one. I can't wait until they start shooting.

When I was in Prague, Janey, Nettie and I went to dinner one night for our farewell dinner at a restaurant right on the river. As we were walking back home, Janey gasped and kind of took off running. She spotted a horse lying on the sidewalk. It was a prop for a movie they were filming right under the bridge. Nettie got very excited because she had never seen anyone famous. She figured if she were with Janey and me and there was a movie being shot, she was sure to see someone of importance. About that time, Gerard Depardieu walked right by us. We stood on the bridge and watched them film for a while. Maybe this will be more exciting.

They're Back

Several months ago, a TV crew chose my hometown to shoot a television pilot for a show called "October Road." The show is set in the Northeast (I live in Georgia), so the crew had to do some work to make the scenery work. I was zoned out and driving home one afternoon and wondered aloud (to myself) what kind of tree is that that turns orange in April? It's the Hollywood kind.

Anyway, there was much excitement in Mayberry as the filming occurred in various locations throughout town. However, the pilot was not picked up and the excitement died.

Until--now there is a possibility that it will be picked up as a midseason replacement. As I was driving to work this morning, I was frustrated by the extension of my 3 minute commute. I could not imagine what was going on at the old courthouse building since all of the offices moved to the new "justice center" several months ago. When I returned from court in BFE a few hours later, the crew had the lights, etc set up and I figured it out. They're back!

I can't remember who is in it other than one of the girls from That 70's Show. Maybe you can hold out hope as your new favorites get cancelled that "October Road" can become you're new favorite. The scenery's nice, anyway.