Thanks for running a marathon of “My Strange Addiction” last night. My strange addiction is “My Strange Addiction” (among other shows of its ilk). And it hasn’t been on in ages.
I thought it was a new season, but apparently I just stumbled across episodes I hadn’t seen. (Not sure how that is possible, but yay for me.)
Today we have been married longer than many of my students have been alive.
Yikes.
One of your friends wrote on Facebook about her parents being married 58 years. She said, “It has never been perfect, but it has always been interesting.”
Yeah. What she said.
The last couple of years have been TOUGH for us. Hormonal teenagers, a big move, new jobs, a PANDEMIC — many factors have made it difficult.
I try to remember why we’ve lasted this long.
It can be summed up in two photos:
This is actually when my obsession with bad taxidermy began: Eddie and I were replicating specimens while waiting for a kids field trip to begin.
Clearly the same sense of humor.
In fact, this time five years ago, we were in Italy. One of the highlights of the trip was taking photos with a man sleeping next to us at a restaurant.
We ended up seeing our new friend the next day. He was looking a bit worse for wear.
Interestingly, later in the trip we became somewhat of a zoo exhibit ourselves.
Yes, those are the fish that eat dead skin.
In addition to the funny factor, you also are willing to go along with my crazy plans.
Halloween 2012: I handled the costumes and makeup. I’m crafty once a year.
We also find the same things horrifying. Like a house full of dolls and tchotchkes. Shudder.
Your face says it all.
Thank you for two great kids and many years of good memories. Hope we can keep on laughing!
How did you live through the learning-to-drive phase?
Dominic now has his learner’s permit.
This was not an easy process, but I bet it pales in comparison to actually teaching him to drive.
He was supposed to go get his learner’s permit weeks ago. We made an appointment. He filled out the application. We got the appropriate letter from his school. I sent him the link to the manual and the sample tests.
We got in the car to go to the DMV.
Him (looking at his phone): What is this sign? (Shows me the following image on his phone)
Me: It’s a warning sign. Why? Him (still looking at his phone): The line down the middle of the road is black, red, yellow or white? Me: Look, you have to answer these questions yourself. First, I’m driving right now. Second, you should have studied the manual! Him: Where did you say that manual was? Me (head exploding): You are kidding, right? Him: I didn’t think it would be hard. Me: It’s going to be hard if you didn’t look at the manual. Him: I think we are going to have to cancel the appointment. Me (steam escaping my ears): Yeah, I guess so.
So we made a new appointment. He promised to study the manual this time.
On the way to the new appointment, we had the following conversation.
Him: I’ve been doing well on the practice tests. This guy said he failed the test 17 times. He finally passed after taking the test three times in one day. His advice is to read the manual. Me: Well, duh. Him: (Silence) Me: You did read the manual, right? Him: I’m reading it now. Me: (Nearly crashes the car from shock and blind rage)
Y’all, I’ll be honest: I did not have high hopes for a successful outcome.
We got there, showed proof that he filled out the application and got our temperatures taken.
After loads of paperwork, he was off to take the test.
While I was waiting, I realized my license expires at the end of this year. So I renewed it while I was there. Bonus!
As I was doing that, Dominic ambled over.
Him: I passed! Me: Really?! That’s GREAT! Him: It was really easy. In fact, some of the stuff I studied in the car was on the test. Me (rolling my eyes): You got so lucky.
On the way home, he called his father to tell him the news. No answer. He called his brother.
Him: I passed Gideon: You passed? Him: I passed my learner’s permit test. Gideon: Oh. Nice.
They hang up.
Me: He was so … what’s the word I’m looking for? Him: Unenthusiastic. Me: Yes.
We had a good laugh.
I pulled over when I was nearly home and let him drive the rest of the way. He did a good job. He even praised me for my patience (!).
Today, we had to pick up his yearbook from the high school. I let him drive. On Peachtree. Anyone who knows Atlanta knows that’s like letting him drive on a NASCAR track. (Not as bad as I-285, but bad.)
I’ll be drinking loads tonight. And I’ll be thankful to be alive.
I swear he took a turn on two wheels.
He didn’t change lanes quickly and drove in the middle of the road for a bit.
He couldn’t figure out how to work the turn signal. (I mean, he’s not alone. Veteran drivers can’t seem to figure that one out.)
So how did you do it?
Any tricks or tips you want to share?
I’m all ears. (And white knuckles.)
Thanks,
Beth
*Thanks, John, Paul, George and Ringo. This tune is now stuck in my head.
Outdoor dining where we could load up on loaded tater tots (and feel our arteries leaden)
The trip also had things we didn’t need:
People without masks
Pickled pigs’ feet
A ridiculously tight valve on the kayak that made it nearly impossible to deflate (Luckily, Mama can charm passing fellow rednecks.)
The loaded tots (Seriously.)
It’s funny to me your brother was bent out of shape and jealous when we got back. I invited him. He didn’t want to go. As usual.
Dominic: I thought you were just going for a day. I didn’t know it was an overnight trip. Me: You didn’t listen. I tried to tell you about the cool cabin, but you weren’t having it.
Anyway, I enjoyed spitting cherry pits off the balcony with you while we listened to Alan Jackson (in true redneck fashion).
I hope you’ll do things like this with your kids if you ever have them. Or at least remember these times when I’m old(er) and (more) decrepit and unable to haul a deflated kayak up and down a hill.
Thanks for taking me to “shoot the hooch.” I cannot believe I grew up in Atlanta and never did this before.**
I almost feel like I need to turn in my Southern girl card.
But not quite, as I adapted like a champ.
Ratty visor? Check.
Brewery coozies? Check.
Cooler filled with beer? Check.
Bungee cords to tie our tubes together? Check.
Bikini to get some sun (even though I know better)? Check.
The sun was hot. The beer and the water were cold.
It was a perfect day.
Perfect until I fell in, that is. (No, apparently I CAN’T reach your speaker carabiner.)
So there I was, dangling in the water, contemplating how best to get back in the tube when something touched my leg.
SOMETHING TOUCHED MY LEG.
My human brain knew it was just river weed.
My lizard brain lost it.
I started scream laughing. You started scream laughing. At me.
Here’s a dramatic re-enactment of me, slippery from sunscreen and still screeching, trying to get back into the innertube.
In addition to making sure to stay in the tube next time, we also will have to do a better job of tying you to the cooler float so you don’t end up in someone else’s pod, flouting social distancing expectations.
And it was then, 30 minutes in, that someone finally explained why religious folks would support Trump:
It’s not about four more years. It’s about 37 more years. It’s about two more Supreme Court justices who are pro-life, pro-Israel, freedom of religion and freedom of speech.
Without that, according to him, “We won’t have the freedoms we grew up with.”
“What freedoms are those?” I was wondering when the dude brought out his saxophone.
I’m not kidding.
Jentezen Franklin plays “America the Beautiful.” He didn’t follow with “Baker Street,” sadly.
I guess he didn’t want Cain to upstage him.
This was getting a talent show kind of vibe, so I was excited to see what Bishop Harry Jackson would do.
But he just promoted his new book and explained racism to a room of mostly white people. Y’all were polite, but unenthusiastic.
Bishop Harry Jackson didn’t show off his musical talents.
Interestingly, he was the first person to mention the president by name: 45 minutes into the event.
Pro-life: Just unborn babies, apparently
Pro-marriage: Only between a man and a woman
Pro-freedom: Religious freedom to discriminate
Pro-constitution: A Tea Party battle cry regarding the expansion of the federal government (maybe)
She talked about squash plants and chipmunks. I was a little confused. But then she said:
Some things never change. Some things do change. There was a change of the guard in 2016.
And then she said something about Planned Parenthood “ripping little babies up.”
I see. Abortion. That’s the main driver.
OK, then. Let me say this about that:
No one is hyped to get an abortion. It’s a last resort. Also, no one is “pro abortion.” So let’s agree on one thing: The goal is to reduce abortions. How do we do that?
As we’ve seen with prohibition and the “war on drugs,” making them illegal won’t work. People will find a way, but it makes it very dangerous for women. So to me, the solution is to put more money into sex education, healthcare and contraception.
If you are pro-life (and really, aren’t we all?) then you should be supporting organizations like Planned Parenthood that actively help women with the above needs.
Alright.
Moving on to the next speaker, Richard Lee, who is as orange as the evening’s celebrant: the Cheeto in Chief.
He didn’t address abortion like everyone else. His main beef seemed to be with what is being taught in school: “garbage.”
Oh, and the Antichrist in the form of Democrats.
The Democratic Party has been taken over by the Antichrist. It’s an evil party.
I thank God that he sent Donald J. Trump to us. He is a gift to the church of Jesus Christ.
As much as you seemed to like this statement, I could tell you were restless. He willfully went over his allotted time and joked about it.
You were ready for the final act: Pastor Paula White. I found out later she is married to Jonathan Cain. Ah. He’s her third husband. With overlaps in relationships. So she’s truly taking those commandments seriously.
I feel like Mother Nature with Heat Miser and Snow Miser.
I’ll explain.
They are old enough to handle Father’s Day on their own, but ignorant enough that I felt they needed reminders. And it had to be over text so you wouldn’t know.
But, as you know, they fought Friday night. As you also know, Gideon holds a grudge.
So this was the exchange yesterday:
Not only am I bothered by the unfortunate and consistent lack of punctuation and correct capitalization, I’m outraged at the fighting over text.
I know today ultimately will be a good day for you (I’ve got some things in reserve to make sure), but I wanted you to know what happened behind the scenes.
It doesn’t matter what your skin. It doesn’t matter where you’re from, Or your religion, you jump right in To the great American melting pot.
Yeah. A bit idealistic, no?
People are actively protesting because skin color DOES matter. (When people say, “I don’t see color,” my eyes nearly roll out of my head. Of course you see skin color just like you notice if someone has brown hair. The key is not attaching JUDGMENT.)
And immigration … well. It’s like people want to say, “That’s it: America is closed.”
I feel like storytelling via music could come in handy here.
I remember when I first truly understood the concept of white privilege. I had walked a couple of blocks in downtown Atlanta and overheard three separate conversations among black people where the subject was race.
I went home that night and asked Eddie if he thinks about being Hispanic on a regular basis. He said he did. He’s been pulled over and asked to prove he’s legal, for example. He’s Puerto Rican, FFS.
And that’s when it clicked: I rarely thought about being white. And that’s a privilege. Now, of course, I’m hyperaware.
Not everyone has that moment of clarity. So I think it’s time for some lessons in your trademark accessible way.
