Mini Vacations in the South

I left Saturday at 9 a.m. headed for Jonesboro, Ga and I arrived around 5 p.m. CT. That's about when I expected to arrive, actually. I didn't stop for anything but the traffic jam in downtown Atlanta. There was an accident somewhere ahead and it took me about half an hour to get through a two mile stretch.

The trip was relatively uneventful. I gassed up in Henderson, Kentucky because fuel is about five cents cheaper there than it is across the river in Indiana. I popped in my Spanish language CD and for the next two hours I practiced Spanish. That is one very long CD! However, it got me to the Hopkinsville exit where I took a potty break and bought a diet coke that was fairly flat. However, I then plugged in the MP3 player with my old radio shows on it and from there all the way to Dalton Georgia I listened to Suspense. I had no idea I had that many radio shows on my MP3 player! It was really cool to be able to listen to them.

I stopped at the Lookout Mountain exit at 3 p.m. and had a very late lunch. I was going to stop earlier but I got off at an exit that the traffic flow was absolutely horrible and inconvenient. I got right back on the interstate and until I found another place better situated. I ate at Cracker Barrel and shopped a bit.

Once I arrived I was pretty much ready to get out of the car. However, there was a birthday party in progress and we were to go to dinner with my cousin and his family. It was nice to see them. Bed was a welcome retreat and it is a very comfortable bed. Sunday we went to church and then out to dinner with my Aunt & Uncle and my other cousin and his teenage boys and my other cousin's daughter. Nice kids and very entertaining.

I spent Sunday evening crocheting on Sarah's dress. It is taking shape.

Monday, today, we went to Juliette, Ga and had lunch at the Whistle Stop Cafe where they filmed Fried Green Tomatoes. I bought a copy of the movie. I always wanted a copy of it on DVD. It is one of my favorite movies and I'm looking forward to watching it again. I liked the tiny village lined along the street. The vendors are nice and not pushy and the food at the cafe was delicious. No, I did not eat barbecue ribs. I had fried chicken, collard greens, and white field peas with cornbread. I don't eat fried, green, tomatoes, southern girl though I am. I've never cared for them. I don't hate them, just don't find them appealing. However, I ate some here and actually, they're very good. They had a kind of chipotle sauce and the batter they cooked them in were both spicy and gave them more flavor. So, if they taste like the ones at the Whistle Stop, they're good. However, I can highly recommend the mixed berry cobbler a la mode. I could have eaten that right by itself.

It was very odd going into the cafe. I felt like I knew the place because I'd seen the movie and it is a favorite of mine. The sensation of deja vu was mild but present and not unpleasant. I'd like to come back when it is warm.

After we ate we strolled along the street and went into the half dozen shops. It was colder in some of the stores than it was outside. We went into Ruth and Idge's house and it was so warm. The lady there said she hated to be cold. So, take my advice, do this little jaunt on a nice spring day when everything is in bloom and green and warm.

Before we left we drove around the corner because one of the vendors said the big plantation house used in the movie is up for sale and we wanted to see it. I'm buying that when I meet that guy with the pots of money. Really.

We came home and I've been messing around on the computer while the aunt and uncle are at the funeral home visiting friends. I'll load the car soon and be ready to pull out tomorrow around 9 a.m. in the morning for Indiana.

I am off on Wednesday to recover from the drive and just relax a bit.

And that's a weekend vacation in the South for me. I need a whole bunch of them.

A Mish Mash of Maundering Melodrama

There are days when I totally forget my goal to post something every day. I've been going to work like a slave, plopping my butt in the chair and staying there until a specific amount of work is done. It is paying off for the moment but I don't know how long I can keep it up. I'm exhausted by the time I get home. And I'm annoyed because it has interfered with every plan I've made.

The only positive to this is that if I can do what I'm planning, I will be better off than I've been in a year. So, say a prayer that I can finish the items I have slated to finish by the 28th. Better yet, pray for no interruptions for the next two weeks. No phone calls, no walk-ins, no coworker catastrophes, and no boss ineptitude.

A real negative it that I've done none of the "real" writing I had planned. I'm simply too drained. I either read or I crochet, both of which requires minimal movement and occupies the brain in a way that decompresses me. Seriously, crochet is a very calming skill. You don't even have to be making anything important. A single stitch, four large skeins of your favorite color and a hook and you're set... for days if you want. If you hate it, you unravel it and make something else. When you're done, you don't remember what bugged you and you have a beautiful, warm wrap for the cold winter evenings with your favorite book.

I used to do quite a lot of crochet when the boys were small but got away from it. When Jerry died and I was cleaning out the closets I found this huge basket of yarn and some unfinished stuff. I also found one of those large popcorn tins filled with thread. So, I dragged it all out and once I started I realized that grief could be managed if you're under the influence of crochet. And now I'm making things like sweaters and dresses and shrugs! LOL, Sarah has at least 10 shrugs of various colors. A dress is nearly finished. I've made a friend a throw, am working on a afghan for Sarah, and another throw for someone else. It works.

Digression end.

But, no novel work and that ticks me off.

I leave for Atlanta Saturday. It is a six hour drive for me. I will return on Tuesday and go back to work on Thursday. Wednesday is a day of rest. David will be here while I'm gone. So, the house will be occupied by a 224 lb male with hands that can twist the head off a bull should you be so stupid as to break in. I once saw him shoot a mouse hiding beneath a chair in a lamp-lit bedroom with a pellet gun from 15 feet away. I told him he couldn't do it. He hit is twice and killed it. With something the size of a BB! He hit it twice! Oh, get over it. The mouse was trespassing. But while he owns no other firearms, he does have some other lethal weapons... silent ones.

Just sayin'.

I hope to relax during this jaunt. I'm carrying my Kindle, my laptop, crochet and my writing calendar. I need to just do the things I enjoy without anyone demanding something. My aunt and uncle will respect that. I'll have company and privacy. And she's a really good cook. . . with a dishwasher. I'll even load it!

The steroid course I was on has ended. I have had about three weeks without much pain and a brain that is operating at near normal levels. This week the hip is bugging me again. Not much, just reminding me that it is biding it's time. My back is really bothering me but I think this is because I've spent nearly a week sitting all day. I get up to talk with a client, check the mail, send a fax, return or get a file. I am in the very back of my office building. I have the longest jaunt to the files and front door. So I do get some activity. Some days I hate that walk to the front and will make the trip a dozen times before noon. On the plus side, if someone comes in and goes postal, I have the quickest escape route. The back door is just outside my door or I can shatter the window and step out. My car just 50 feet away.

I have no idea where that came from but it is always in my mind. We deal with some potentially unstable folks. Doesn't everyone these days?

I hate Valentines Day. I'm glad it is over.

Monday is another "holiday". I hesitate to call President's Day a holiday. It is not a Holy Day. It more aptly called an "honor day". I like that much better. I save my Holy Days for things that are truly worthy of the title.

And now, I'm going to bed. I've no idea what to call this post and recently read somewhere that titling blog post was a wasted effort. But I like catchy titles and I usually come up with good ones. Well, I think they're good.

Flight of the Week

I don't know where the week went. I've been so busy at work that I simply turned on the auto pilot and let the thing fly itself. We've landed, safely, at the weekend. I'm actually feeling physically better since they gave me the steroid. I have no idea what it has done to my blood sugar or triglycerides but I'm not thinking about it at the moment. It is nice to have practically no pain at all and feel as if I'm in my right mind for a change.

I've got plans. I work Monday and I'm off Tuesday. That will leave three days in the week to push through. They will be horrendous days of shoveling massive piles of files from one side of my desk, by way of entering the data into the computer, to the other side of my desk.

 On Monday night, the 11th, I have an Online Writers' Asylum meeting That's always fun. Agenda is sent out already.

On the 16th I'm driving down to Atlanta to visit my aunt and uncle. Monday, the 18th, is another holiday and I took Tuesday and Wednesday off. So, I'll stay until the 19th and come home on the 20th. I'm going alone. Dave will have Sarah that weekend and I'll miss that but he's got a friend who will be in town with her two little girls and they'll be doing things together. It will be good for both of them. And he needs to have time with Sarah to himself because he needs to know how to deal with it.

Then, I'll have Thursday and Friday to try and make up for the five days I didn't work. Just in case you didn't realize it, February is already a very short month, as months go, in regard to the kind of work I do. I have approximately 15 days in which to process what normally takes a full 30 day month. So, this will be a feat to rival the Augean Stables. Just so you know, I am not Hercules.

I've been messing around tonight trying to get my home network back online. I can do it one way but not the other. I mean, I can see and access files in my shared folder from the desktop but I can't do the same from the laptop. I think some settings still aren't right, despite the repair. As soon as I can sit down and make sure I'm backed up on the important stuff, I'm resetting everything to factory settings. I'd like to do it this week but if you read over the previous paragraphs you will realize that it is probably not going to happen. Then, I think I'll upgrade to Windows 7 while I still can.

On the 16th I was supposed to meet with a group of local NaNo writers who want to start meeting once a month. Then I realized I had this trip to Atlanta and so I've had to push that back to the last Saturday in February.

Compared to this past week, I suspect that the coming week will reach Mach speeds. Next flight is boarding now. Buckle up.

It Takes A Village

I love British mysteries. I cut my teeth on Agatha Christy and Dorthy L Sayers. For weeks now, I've been watching British mysteries on Netflix. I sit and crochet and watch for hours in the evening. I'm into about the seventh season of Midsomer Murders. It is just one of my favorites.

I don't know how the country of Britain is subdivided. I haven't been interested enough to look it up and assume it is similar to our divisions. In America we have states that have counties with towns and a county seat. Louisiana has parishes but it is six of one and half dozen of the other. Kentucky is a commonwealth but still has counties.

In Midsomer Murders the towns are usually different but they all appear to be in one sort of county, Midsomer, i.e. Midsomer Worthy I take to mean the town of Worthy in the county of Midsomer. If I'm wrong my loyal Brits readers will kindly correct me. But you get my drift.

While watching the show the other night I got to thinking. This Midsomer place is a veritable pit of sin and murder. I mean, every show is full of the most awful old bats and nosy neighbors, and vicious gossips. Every show has more than one murder. And the nicest people all seem to have these nasty vices or they seem totally naive about all of it.

So, I wondered... exactly what are those little English villages like? Seriously, they're small. All of the Midsomer villages are picturesque, cozy, and people seem so friendly on the surface and then, bam, someone is bashed over the head with a brick, or lamp, or candlestick. If they aren't bashed with something, they're blasted with a shotgun, of which there seems to be a awful lot of in Midsomer. Every one, including Granny has a shotgun. I know Britain has strict gun laws. I mean, even the DCI doesn't have a gun when he goes haring after the murderer. More than once I thought, "Stop, you fool! Get a gun before you go in there!" But no, he never does. And they never kill him! They don't even shoot him. Generally, they don't even hit him. He walks over and just snatches the gun away and that handsome chap that blindly follows him handcuffs the offender. All neat and tidy, despite the fact that this person just murdered half the town with an ax.

I always thought it would be nice to live in one of those villages. My friend, Jilly, moved to one last year. She seems very happy and so much more involved in the local events now. She's invited me to come for a visit and I've been really wanting to do that. But now I'm beginning to wonder. I've seen what goes on in these little hotbeds of vice.

I must ask her if Simon owns a shotgun.

Is Anyone Watching?

Today is a work holiday for me and I've spent all morning doing virtually nothing. I swept bathrooms, hallway and kitchen. I'll vacuum the rugs soon. I also cleaned toilets. But that's it.

No one noticed my efforts but Sarah, my 6 year old granddaughter. She's been with me for the weekend. She asked me why I was sweeping floors and cleaning the toilets. Sarah's a bit messy for a 6 year old so maybe she didn't understand the need... or health concerns.

I find it odd that she didn't notice the toilet was very dirty but she did notice last night that her dad left the sink dirty. I took a Clorox (c) wipe and quickly cleaned that up. She said, "You shouldn't be cleaning up after him." I just looked at her and thought carefully about my response. One side of my brain wanted to agree with her. Thankfully, the more intelligent side responded. "Well, he's paying rent and helps with other things. That's how people are supposed to do it. They work together." I know for a fact that this was a bone of contention before her parents' divorce in Sarah's home with her non-working Mom and working Dad. I've heard it more than once. Obviously, Sarah did, too.

Does anyone but me see the dirty toilet and sink? Did anyone but me notice the floors needed sweeping? Probably not since no one comes to my home but my family. My sons are blind to dirt. Really. Probably because they never saw it growing up. I was a stay at home mom for about 15 years. I noticed but the male contingent never saw a dirty house. Would I have noticed had it been someone else's home? Um... I'd have noticed that toilet, let me tell you, but it took me days before I noticed it last night. I think I would have noticed the sink, too. So, yes, I think, if a stranger had come to my home, they'd have noticed.

For me that's the problem. I'm overly sensitive to all this stuff. I see all the details of a messy house and it completely disrupts my ability to cope. I think everyone could see it. I know everyone would see it. So, it needs to be dealt with and disposed of quickly. Sometimes, though, I look past obvious things.

I didn't see what a six year old noticed. She didn't really see the dirt in the sink but she noticed a female household member cleaning up after a male household member. She immediately parroted a response with which I happen to disagree. It is a response based on twisted relationships. I have a problem with that kind of mentality. If there's a mess and you see it, you don't leave it for someone else, no matter who made the mess. Should people clean up their own mess? Yes. But in real life they often don't. I've had people clean up messes I made. If I see trash in the floor at my office, I simply bend down and pick it up. I didn't drop it. There are 12 other people there who could have but ignoring it won't make it go away. We work together. I am sure someone in that office has picked up my mess. In fact, I know it.

Is anyone watching? I think so. It is why I hate the house getting dirty. I'm tired a lot when I get home so cleaning lives up to the word "chore" for me. It is difficult for me to do more than 4 hours of housework. But I do it. Now there's two of us but actually, David is only mildly messy. His problem is in the follow up.

It is hard to live with someone else after years alone. I've talked to David about various things I'd like him to do, for himself and for me. He may or may not do them. I work to not get annoyed because the reality is, he hasn't got anywhere else to go. We discuss it and he tries a bit harder but he's not there yet. Surprising since he is pretty OCD and used to have the cleanest room in the house. What happened to him, I wonder? And then I listen to Sarah give orders to her father as if he were her servant rather than her parent. Where did she learn that behavior? What kind of relationship is it that demands all from one and none from the one demanding?

Sarah was playing with a couple dolls not too long ago and was heard to say, "My friends matter more and if you don't like it you can leave." Maybe when you become invisible, you don't notice the dirt.

I mean, is anyone really watching? Yes, they are.