I went home today at lunch and made myself a bowl of chicken and rice soup. The house was quiet, as Kate was working on her media class assignment. I turned on the classical radio station on the radio in the living room and ate supper.
Outside, it was raining steadily. The whole world was covered with a grey gloom. As I sat in the living room staring out at the dark world, I considered that it would be nice to stay home and take a nap.
After returning to work, covered appropriately with sweater, scarf and hat, I still think it would have been nice to stay home and nap this afternoon. Life just doesn't always give you the scene that you need or the opportunity to respond appropriately to the scene it gives you.
The rain is supposed to continue for another day.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Down and back from Clinton
I got to drive back up to Clinton, South Carolina yesteday to help Kate with removing her stuff from her apartment in Clinton and return to Griffin. When I got to the apartment, Kate had not done much to ready herself and her stuff to travel to Georgia. In addition, she was more hungry than ready to pack and get on the road.
So we drove over to Whiteford's, a nearby burger place, and I fed Kate and me for about $14.00. Afterward, we drove back to the apartment and began to demolish her room so as to enable us to pack the mattress and boxsprings in the Explorer, throw the bedsheets and pillows, a plastic chair, and some extraneous items into the Explorer and then start on the Toyota with everything else.
Kate obviously got the better of the deal, driving the Toyota, since the entire rear of the Explorer was covered up with large boxes, chairs, bedclothes, etc.; whereas, the Toyota still had room to peak through the clothes hanging from the temporary rack hanging in the backseat to notice if someone was behind her when she backed up or if someone was gaining on her as we drove back to Georgia.
We finally got ready to leave, and headed out, in caravan, through Clinton, then on to the interstate, back to Georgia.
As I drove on, I noticed that the back hatch door of the Explorer was loose, so I called Kate and asked her to stop at the Georgia Welcome Center. After making the stop and adjusting the back hatch, we enterd the Welcome Center, looked at some of the exhibits and headed back to the cars.
As I said adieu to Kate again, I looked down at the license tag on the Toyota. I noticed suddenly that someone had placed a tiny Florida Gator head over the Georgia Peach on my license plate. As I bent down to remove the offending gator head, I asked Kate if she knew of anyone who might like to deface my car with such a sticker. She could only think of two people who might commit such a dastardly act.
The sticker removed, we headed back to Griffin, and arrived only several hours late.
But Home Sweet Home is such, no matter what the hour. It is good to have Kate back.
So we drove over to Whiteford's, a nearby burger place, and I fed Kate and me for about $14.00. Afterward, we drove back to the apartment and began to demolish her room so as to enable us to pack the mattress and boxsprings in the Explorer, throw the bedsheets and pillows, a plastic chair, and some extraneous items into the Explorer and then start on the Toyota with everything else.
Kate obviously got the better of the deal, driving the Toyota, since the entire rear of the Explorer was covered up with large boxes, chairs, bedclothes, etc.; whereas, the Toyota still had room to peak through the clothes hanging from the temporary rack hanging in the backseat to notice if someone was behind her when she backed up or if someone was gaining on her as we drove back to Georgia.
We finally got ready to leave, and headed out, in caravan, through Clinton, then on to the interstate, back to Georgia.
As I drove on, I noticed that the back hatch door of the Explorer was loose, so I called Kate and asked her to stop at the Georgia Welcome Center. After making the stop and adjusting the back hatch, we enterd the Welcome Center, looked at some of the exhibits and headed back to the cars.
As I said adieu to Kate again, I looked down at the license tag on the Toyota. I noticed suddenly that someone had placed a tiny Florida Gator head over the Georgia Peach on my license plate. As I bent down to remove the offending gator head, I asked Kate if she knew of anyone who might like to deface my car with such a sticker. She could only think of two people who might commit such a dastardly act.
The sticker removed, we headed back to Griffin, and arrived only several hours late.
But Home Sweet Home is such, no matter what the hour. It is good to have Kate back.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Bullocks
Just so everyone can know that there is a ton of bull in our family, I attach this which as far as I can tell is the actual coat of arms of my family. The arms includes the colors of red and silver, which are the colors I wanted to choose for Dunwoody before the colors were ultimately picked. In addition, you can see that there are three bull heads on the arms, with a bull depicted above the arms.
My point is that there is no reason to assume that my bull-headedness is anything other than a genetic predisposition. Of course, my grandfather raised cattle and my father was a salesman and I, of course, am a professional bull-thrower.
It just tends to flow from generation to generation.
Cold morning, December morning
I slept soundly for some time last night, sleeping in the bed above our bedroom, so as not to disturb Cindy this morning when I awoke. And as is the norm in these cases, I awoke around five this morning and felt my heart pounding in my chest and tried to settle myself back into a position where I could get back to sleep.
Ordinarily, I have to minister to my mind at these times and allow my thoughts to roll here and there and resolve themselves enough to allow a bit of additional sleep. But too often, I thrash in bed long enough, caught in the web of my thoughts for a long enough time so that I lose the ability to invest in a bit more rest.
Nevertheless, I was able to come down stairs this morning and get on the internet again, for a second morning. I am not sure why, all of a sudden, I am able to get on the internet at home. I suppose there is a router somewhere in the neighborhood, close enough to allow me to connect to the cyber-universe around me.
It is kind of humbling to consider that at this time, someone somewhere in the world could be taking note of me and my ramblings. And a little scary sometimes. As I have taken the time to write these notes, not as regularly as I would have liked, I have been surprised to find other people reading my words and responding.
Now we are caught in the holiday season. There is a bit more restraint this year and the economy is pulling our attention enough so that it is difficult to immerse oneself in the tide of consumerism. And that is a good thing. Perhaps we can think more on the important things which the season brings.
Perhaps tonight Cindy and I will drive over to Peachtree City to do a little shopping. Perhaps tomorrow we will shop some more. On Sunday, after church, we are scheduled to ride up to the Governor's Mansion to hear our choir director, tax commissioner and friend, Sylvia Hollums, sing in a presentation at the mansion. Afterward, we will drive down to the Varsity for supper. That sounds like a lot of fun. I am definitely looking forward to that.
Well, I look at the clock on my computer and I note that it is probably time to take the dog out to do his business, and then eat some breakfast before I dress for work. I think I will heat some water for a cup of hot tea. I can feel the cold outside through my pajamas and the window and the storm window and the wall. I assume that means that it is quite cold out their this morning.
I wouldn't expect anything else on the morning of December 5th.
Ordinarily, I have to minister to my mind at these times and allow my thoughts to roll here and there and resolve themselves enough to allow a bit of additional sleep. But too often, I thrash in bed long enough, caught in the web of my thoughts for a long enough time so that I lose the ability to invest in a bit more rest.
Nevertheless, I was able to come down stairs this morning and get on the internet again, for a second morning. I am not sure why, all of a sudden, I am able to get on the internet at home. I suppose there is a router somewhere in the neighborhood, close enough to allow me to connect to the cyber-universe around me.
It is kind of humbling to consider that at this time, someone somewhere in the world could be taking note of me and my ramblings. And a little scary sometimes. As I have taken the time to write these notes, not as regularly as I would have liked, I have been surprised to find other people reading my words and responding.
Now we are caught in the holiday season. There is a bit more restraint this year and the economy is pulling our attention enough so that it is difficult to immerse oneself in the tide of consumerism. And that is a good thing. Perhaps we can think more on the important things which the season brings.
Perhaps tonight Cindy and I will drive over to Peachtree City to do a little shopping. Perhaps tomorrow we will shop some more. On Sunday, after church, we are scheduled to ride up to the Governor's Mansion to hear our choir director, tax commissioner and friend, Sylvia Hollums, sing in a presentation at the mansion. Afterward, we will drive down to the Varsity for supper. That sounds like a lot of fun. I am definitely looking forward to that.
Well, I look at the clock on my computer and I note that it is probably time to take the dog out to do his business, and then eat some breakfast before I dress for work. I think I will heat some water for a cup of hot tea. I can feel the cold outside through my pajamas and the window and the storm window and the wall. I assume that means that it is quite cold out their this morning.
I wouldn't expect anything else on the morning of December 5th.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
The chosen
Tonight I could not sleep.
Tomorrow we drive back home
And leave the rumbling of the surf
On the beach behind us.
Tonight my eyes were drawn to the horizon,
As far as I could discern it
Through the deep purple of two thirty in the morning,
And there I could see a bright, distant light
Cutting strongly through the darkness,
Showing the position of a fishing boat
Plying its midnight trade
On the rolling waters of the Gulf of Mexico.
And the light drew my interest
And caused me to take leave of my bed
And step out on the lonely balcony.
To feel the ocean breeze
Flowing across my face
And smell the sea's raw perfume
Rising up from the beach
And take note of the awesome host
Of stars thrown across the firmament of the skies.
And I wondered what those mariners were thinking
As they reached into the depths of the ocean
To pull their livelihood from its bounty:
Did they take nautical notice of the starlight above them
And chart their position
To find their pathway back home?
Did their hearts get caught, like mine,
In their throats from the beauty
Of the starlight strewn across the blackness of the heavens?
Or did their ability to discern the light above them
Become entwined with the nets they cast
Into the darkness washing beneath them,
Their hopes tethered by their concern
For the fishes swimming below?
How much better, in my sleeplessness,
That I could sit out on that wooden chair
And consider the brightness and depth of those stars
And the vastness of the heavens above us
And take note of the simple differences of position
Lying between myself and my brothers
And the distant heavens
That caught us up in the arms of the cool Winter's night.
Tomorrow we drive back home
And leave the rumbling of the surf
On the beach behind us.
Tonight my eyes were drawn to the horizon,
As far as I could discern it
Through the deep purple of two thirty in the morning,
And there I could see a bright, distant light
Cutting strongly through the darkness,
Showing the position of a fishing boat
Plying its midnight trade
On the rolling waters of the Gulf of Mexico.
And the light drew my interest
And caused me to take leave of my bed
And step out on the lonely balcony.
To feel the ocean breeze
Flowing across my face
And smell the sea's raw perfume
Rising up from the beach
And take note of the awesome host
Of stars thrown across the firmament of the skies.
And I wondered what those mariners were thinking
As they reached into the depths of the ocean
To pull their livelihood from its bounty:
Did they take nautical notice of the starlight above them
And chart their position
To find their pathway back home?
Did their hearts get caught, like mine,
In their throats from the beauty
Of the starlight strewn across the blackness of the heavens?
Or did their ability to discern the light above them
Become entwined with the nets they cast
Into the darkness washing beneath them,
Their hopes tethered by their concern
For the fishes swimming below?
How much better, in my sleeplessness,
That I could sit out on that wooden chair
And consider the brightness and depth of those stars
And the vastness of the heavens above us
And take note of the simple differences of position
Lying between myself and my brothers
And the distant heavens
That caught us up in the arms of the cool Winter's night.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
The Season begins
Yesterday, Brother Frank, with Maggie and Lily in tow, arrived around 4:30 in the afternoon at Fishtales Manor on the beach at St. George Island, and soon, we were on our way into town for the opening meal of the Holiday Season. Everyone was here who was going to be here and it was time to drive down to Boss Oyster for the first big feast.
Nine years ago, I opened the menu at the restaurant and noticed the Oyster Roast, which included three dozen Apalachicola oysters, roasted over an open fire. At that point, when you entered into the restaurant, you walked between the kitchen on your right and a fireplace on your left, upon which the cooks roasted the oysters.
Now, you are seated and you order and they bring your a pile of oyster shells and an oyster knife and some melted butter and other condiments which are unnecessary in my mind.
Last night, Kate and I shared my roasted oysters, and Kate opined that she would like to share a pile of roasted oysters with me on Friday at lunch.
So, today is Thanksgiving, and I am particularly thankful for family and the ocean and vacations and the bounty of the sea. Later, I will eat turkey and grandmommie's dressing and green beans and whatever dessert is on the table.
And Susan has made more brownies and there is dark beer and the weather is warm and breezy and I can take a triptophan nap in the afternoon.
I should walk on the beach to prepare for the day of eating and sleeping. This is a long day and the beginning of a long time of eating and drinking and thinking about the many gifts we receive, even in hard times.
Nine years ago, I opened the menu at the restaurant and noticed the Oyster Roast, which included three dozen Apalachicola oysters, roasted over an open fire. At that point, when you entered into the restaurant, you walked between the kitchen on your right and a fireplace on your left, upon which the cooks roasted the oysters.
Now, you are seated and you order and they bring your a pile of oyster shells and an oyster knife and some melted butter and other condiments which are unnecessary in my mind.
Last night, Kate and I shared my roasted oysters, and Kate opined that she would like to share a pile of roasted oysters with me on Friday at lunch.
So, today is Thanksgiving, and I am particularly thankful for family and the ocean and vacations and the bounty of the sea. Later, I will eat turkey and grandmommie's dressing and green beans and whatever dessert is on the table.
And Susan has made more brownies and there is dark beer and the weather is warm and breezy and I can take a triptophan nap in the afternoon.
I should walk on the beach to prepare for the day of eating and sleeping. This is a long day and the beginning of a long time of eating and drinking and thinking about the many gifts we receive, even in hard times.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Enjoy your Thanksgiving, Plan B
I have passed over the bridge, driven down the long stretch of US 19 from Griffin to Tallahasee, then across I-10 to the second Quincy Exit, then down through the piney woods and saw palmetto to where the long paved county road winds its curves through the woods and suddenly shows the light of the Gulf of Mexico at the end of the road.
And I have sat on a bench at Boss Oyster and enjoyed a basket of fried oysters, served with cheese grits and corn fritters and a cold pint of amber ale.
There is nothing wrong with that.
Cindy and Kate and I are sitting in an internet cafe, where we could get a connection.
Last night, I made Scallops Barbara Jean's for the family. Surprisingly, even with a pound of butter and eight strips of Broadbent bacon, it seemed remarkably light. I guess it helps to have the contrast with the fried oysters, which we ate for lunch.
Anyway, with the exception of trying to get used to the pillow under my head and the mattress, I have slept quite well. I wonder why.
Cindy says it is the pounding of the ocean. I personally think it has something to do with being surrounded by my family, eating a sufficient amount of seafood and drinking more beer than normally. And being away from the pressures of work helps.
I look forward to eating oysters again on Wednesday night. However, I have plenty of time to enjoy other aspects of Franklin County.
The weather is cool, but not that bad. The wind, when it dies down, is enjoyable.
A tanker truck ran through a traffic light and hit the bank in town. That was probably the biggest news of the month, I would suspect.
While, you sit in your home, eating yourself into a turkey coma, I will think of you all, eating my turkey and dressing in front of a big sliding glass door, watching the surf come in and roll out.
So much fun.
And I have sat on a bench at Boss Oyster and enjoyed a basket of fried oysters, served with cheese grits and corn fritters and a cold pint of amber ale.
There is nothing wrong with that.
Cindy and Kate and I are sitting in an internet cafe, where we could get a connection.
Last night, I made Scallops Barbara Jean's for the family. Surprisingly, even with a pound of butter and eight strips of Broadbent bacon, it seemed remarkably light. I guess it helps to have the contrast with the fried oysters, which we ate for lunch.
Anyway, with the exception of trying to get used to the pillow under my head and the mattress, I have slept quite well. I wonder why.
Cindy says it is the pounding of the ocean. I personally think it has something to do with being surrounded by my family, eating a sufficient amount of seafood and drinking more beer than normally. And being away from the pressures of work helps.
I look forward to eating oysters again on Wednesday night. However, I have plenty of time to enjoy other aspects of Franklin County.
The weather is cool, but not that bad. The wind, when it dies down, is enjoyable.
A tanker truck ran through a traffic light and hit the bank in town. That was probably the biggest news of the month, I would suspect.
While, you sit in your home, eating yourself into a turkey coma, I will think of you all, eating my turkey and dressing in front of a big sliding glass door, watching the surf come in and roll out.
So much fun.
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