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Posts Tagged ‘Savannah’

Dear Organizers of the Georgia State Banana Pudding Festival:

As soon as I found out about this festival and realized it coincided with the day my son Dominic and I planned to drive from Atlanta to Savannah, I knew it was on the agenda.

I’ve been to many festivals and fairs. I have expectations. I can manage those expectations depending on the scope of the venture. Claxton Rattlesnake Roundup? It’s an annual, small-town, lookie-loo event. No expectations. McMinnville UFO Festival? Bigger event with a parade and a weekend of planned speakers. Higher expectations.

The banana pudding festival appears to be an annual state event with enough social media presence to get on the radar of someone in Oregon.

I had expectations.

I did not expect to wait 20 minutes on a two-lane road to be directed into a field to park — one of three, all off this same two-lane road.

I did not expect to wait another 30 minutes in line to pay a $10 entry fee. (Who charges an entry fee at a festival like this?!)

I did not expect to wait another hour in line to pay $10 to sample banana pudding along the “Puddin’ Path.”

This is the line for the Puddin’ Path.
Dominic is so happy to finally be able to eat some pudding.

What — and I mean this sincerely — the fuck?!

One hour and $10 to sample eight versions of banana pudding, two of which were inedible? [One was “sourdough” (What? No. Stop.), and one was pecan praline (so sweet that I immediately contracted diabetes).]

And that’s it. Those eight samples equaled the only banana pudding available at the Georgia State Banana Pudding Festival.

You are deeply unserious festival planners. Clearly.

So what did our entry fee get us?

A vendors fair with all manner of offerings, including “sassy sewing.”
A variety of wood creations and whatnot for sale.
A few people with festival spirit.
Hate crimes in merch form.
An obstacle course driven by a blindfolded tractor driver.
The ability to take this photo.

Not pictured: the 30-minute line for two porta-potties. Yes: TWO.

Also not pictured: The person running for Secretary of State who talked to us about his immigration stance, assuming we had the same political beliefs. Sir, I’m not your target audience, for a variety of reasons.

You know what WAS worth it: Spending this time with Dominic grousing about how lame your festival was. We are two of a kind and ended up having a great time.

So thanks. I guess.
Beth

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COMING THIS SUMMER!

BIG DON and LITTLE BUDDY’S

A new theme park for true patriots only!

Now — a theme park for the most important people of all: STRAIGHT WHITE MEN.

Only STRAIGHT WHITE MEN are allowed — preferably married men wanting to get away from the ol’ ball and chain. Leave that shrill harpy HOME where she belongs!

Only AMERICANS — except for TYRANT TUESDAYS when Americans can bring a straight male friend from one of the following countries: Russia, South Africa, and Hungary.

Only the RICH. You must make more than 360 large. NO POORS. Show your bank statement with your ticket.

Nothing WOKE here. WE GUARANTEE. You never have to see a Pride flag or a black face.**

NO DEI either. Our rides are run by the cream of the crop: TEENAGE INCELS.

Get 20 percent off OLD GLORY merch at the GRIFT SHOP and a coupon for free FREEDOM FRIES at the GUANTÁNAMO BAY BISTRO when you give the Sieg Heil at the gate.

RED, WHITE, AND BLUELAND is affiliated with the ALL NEW John F. Kennedy and Kid Rock Big Ass Honkytonk Center for the Performing Arts and Rock ‘N’ Roll Steakhouse. The MARCH LINEUP features Kid Rock, Jason Aldean, Lee Greenwood, Ted Nugent, Billy Ray Cyrus, John Rich, and Monster Truck Action with the WORLD-FAMOUS TRUCKASAURUS. Also, David Copperfield.

‘MURICA!

*For now. I think. If you like this idea, you might be a racist. If you are offended, ask yourself why.

**But if you want to wear blackface, that’s totes fine here at RED, WHITE, AND BLUELAND. It’s not just for Halloween anymore!

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Dear 2024:

You were a mixed bag. A review of my posts this year reflects high highs and low lows.

For this post, though, I’m going to focus on the positive.

I got to see both of my sons at Christmas. Joy!

  1. My younger son (Gideon) chose to study environmental science at the university for which I work. That means free tuition, a great education, and I get to see him all the time. He earned two As and a B in his first semester and loves it.
  2. My older son (Dominic) attended Navy A School in Pensacola, Florida, graduated fourth in his class, and is about to go to Norfolk, Virginia. He seems happy, mature and focused.
  3. Ex (Eddie) is dating a lovely woman who was gracious enough to invite me over for Christmas dinner.
  4. My man friend and I got to explore more of Oregon: Bend, hot springs, Seal Rock, Eugene, etc.
  5. Got to see St. Louis family, framily and friends for Thanksgiving. Man, I miss that town and those people. Gideon went with me, begrudgingly according to him. At the end, he had this to say, “I actually had a good time.” Actually. 🙄
  6. Though I miss St. Louis, I love my job and my coworkers. Oregon is growing on me.
  7. Wendy and Wallace visited me this month, and we managed to all spill beer on Wallace. Lucky him!
  8. I’ve been taking care of my granddog (Vince) while Gideon is with his father on winter break. Leo and Vince are getting along. That in itself is a Christmas miracle.
  9. Saw “Wicked” the movie, “DRAG the Musical” and “A Wonderful World” in New York, along with friends Michael, Shane, Jason and Brooke while I was there for my birthday.
  10. Also got to see my birth father. Third year in a row of going out to see him as part of my birthday weekend. Cool, right? Seems fitting. And we are trying to make up for lost time.
  11. 36-hour Tina broke her own record. New moniker: 20-hour Tina. She got into New York at 2 p.m. on my birthday, and I dropped her off at La Guardia at 10 the next morning. In between, we ate at trendy Cocodaq, participated in “Life and Trust,” shopped at Bryant Park, and stayed at the notorious Standard High Line.
  12. I won “Squid Game: The Experience.”
I won the mask I’m wearing, entrance to the VIP lounge, 20% off items in the gift shop, and bragging rights.
Brooke told me I was the only one to make it across the finish line in Red Light, Green Light. All those years of having to freeze in various plays during my MFA years paid off!
Brooke and I enjoy the Squid Game VIP lounge.
Hour Two of 20-hour Tina’s visit
Look at this chicken. In the bucket. (Not Tina, as she’s fairly brave.)
Birthday brunch with Michael — a delight!
I always have to see the Rockefeller Center tree.
And watch the OG Grinch every year.
While I was visiting the boys in Savannah, I picked up a few necessities I can’t get in Oregon.
Leo and Vince
See? Getting along.

I’m hopeful that 2025 has more ups than downs, but I remain thankful for the abundance of joy in my life.

Happy New Year!
Beth

*Johnny Mercer, of course.

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Dear Summer,

Listen: I know plenty of people like you. We were all conditioned to like you because that is when we finally got a break from school.

But imma** be real with you: I hate you. You can GTFO.

I don’t like to sweat. It’s why I prefer exercising in the water.

I don’t want to lie in the sun and bake.

I’m not a fan of wearing shorts.

I moved to the Pacific Northwest where I was promised clouds and rain.

Yet here you are, Summer. Coming in hot.

Literally.

It was above 100 degrees for a few days last week.

My office is on the third floor of an old building with no air conditioning.

My house does not have central air.

Many places here do not have AC.

Why? It was never needed.

Now it is.

For you MAGA idiots who “do your own research” squawking that climate change isn’t real, let me tell you something:

It really f—ing is.

I have a degree in meteorology. For real.

(Ok, I’m breathing. Deep breaths. In with the good air; out with the bad.)

Anyway, no air.

When I got here and noted this travesty, people said to me, “But Beth, you are from the South!”

Yes, and we have air conditioning everywhere. In fact, the AC is so strong that you keep a sweater in your car just in case.

Not here. I even took the usual sweater off my naked cat so he could stay cool.

It’s not over yet. Tuesday will be hot too.

And I remember last year when we had 107-degree temps for a week in August. Fun.

So, Summer, please go. Fall, you’re the one that I want.

Kthxbyeeee,
Beth

*Glenn.
**Stealing from kids today.

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Dear Oregon,

I think we are going to be ok together. I’m feeling optimistic.

It’s probably because the sun is back.

Or the fact that I realized I’ve had nearly two full weeks of social activities, including:

Line dancing with Henry, a friend from college who was passing through.
Karaoke with coworkers and friends old and new.
Games with long-time friends from my Savannah days.
A huge wine-tasting event I was able to attend for free with another coworker.
Line dancing at a new-to-me club in Salem: Silver Spur.

About that club …

It was packed with folks aged 25-35.

Hence, not folks like me. 😂

I enjoyed the people-watching.

But then this happened:

I have thoughts.

  • This is LINE DANCING, not a sporting event. No need for the national anthem. (I would argue that we don’t even need it at sporting events.)
  • This is HOURS into the night. Why play it THEN?
  • Is this girl signing the anthem? If so, is that RIGHT? It looks made up. Like this lady. (Based on this, I think she’s full of it.)

In addition to the fascinating fauna people, the flora is pretty great too.

Double-flowering plum trees are everywhere.
They are lovely until a stiff wind comes by.

In general, I’m happy. Everything is going to be ok.

Thanks for being patient with me.

Your new friend,
Beth

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Dear Fellow Southerners:

I don’t think we know just how weird we are until we get around people who “ain’t from around here.”

Y’all* know I was just in Savannah. While there, I had to load up on things I can’t get in Oregon.

  1. Collard greens. When I find them in Oregon, the leaves are small and anemic. I’m used to ones the size of tobacco leaves.
  2. Barbecue sauce. Vinegar-based. Don’t give me any of that sweet Kansas City crap.
  3. Crab Shack hot sauce and seasoning. They also have a mustard-based barbecue sauce that’s pretty good.
  4. Applewood-smoked bacon. There is no comparison to meat from the Ogeechee Meat Market.
  5. Pimento cheese-flavored popcorn. Yes, please.
  6. Fresh okra. I asked for it at Roth’s the other day, and you would have thought I asked for a package of human fingers.
  7. Coffee from Dunkin’ Donuts. That is not a Southern thing, but there’s no runnin’ on Dunkin’ in the PNW. Probably because of Starbucks. I don’t want DD ground coffee. I can get that. I want the in-store brewed coffee. So I froze a Box o’ Joe and packed it.

More than half of my 44-pound suitcase (!) filled with groceries.

One morning this week, I woke up singing “BFE” by Kane Brown. That was the morning I decided to have fried okra for breakfast. That’s right: cut, bathed in egg, coated in a mix of seasonings, flour and corn meal. For breakfast. I made it slightly healthier by popping it in the air fryer.

And so I’m singing the song, dredging this okra in breading, and I realized this:

You can take the girl out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the girl.

I smiled, and kept on going.

My okra was amazing.

Look at it!

Clearly, I ain’t from around here.

And that’s ok. It makes me appreciate my background even more.

All y’all have a good day, ya hear!

Your Redneck Friend,
Beth (the devil who went down to Georgia 😂)

*Legit contraction not limited to the South anymore.

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Dear St. Anthony,

I’d love your help in finding the parking access card, building fob and door key for my Airbnb.

Veronica the Cleaner took a pic of the bundle last Sunday to show that the guest returned it.

But when Amit checked in Friday, it was nowhere to be found.

There were no guests in between.

Unless I hosted ghosts. Or aliens.

I try to offer a five-star experience, so I set to work to try to fix the issue, even though I was in Savannah trying to spend some time with Gideon on his spring break.

The fob was the immediate concern. Well, the property manager only works Monday-Friday, and she was off Friday. NO ONE ELSE can distribute them. Fob is a no-go until Monday.

I still needed to get a new access card and key and to change the code on the lock.

I have friends in Atlanta, but that’s a big ask.

As I was flying through Atlanta on my way back to Portland, I decided to see if I could extend my layover.

The noon flight was sold out. Standby didn’t look promising. The 3 p.m. would get me there at 4, but my PDX flight left at 7.

Three hours to get out of the airport, run these errands, and get back through security?

My blood pressure is skyrocketing just thinking about it.

ANXIETY INTERLUDE.

I could either sit in the airport fretting for hours or get on the road.

I canceled my SAV-ATL flight and rented a car.

I have two sayings:

Experience is what you get when you don’t get what you want.

Bad decisions make good stories.

I got quite an experience and a story.

All was well until I entered Atlanta’s orbit. I am from Atlanta. I know traffic.

We always say, “Atlanta is an hour away from Atlanta.”

This was worse than almost anything I had ever seen. Add one hour to the journey.

Peachtree Street was a hot mess.

I mean … WTF?!? Seventeen minutes to drive 2.6 miles.

I got to the condo, grabbed the extra set of keys, and found a hardware store. That was the easy part. PASS!

Next I tried to change the code on the door lock. Somehow, I have the wrong programming code saved in my phone and no tools to take off the lock to get at the info inside. FAIL.

I went to the parking garage to get a replacement access card. The person who can do this works Monday-Friday. NO ONE ELSE can distribute them. Of course. FAIL.

So if you are keeping track, you can tell that I got virtually nothing accomplished. I wasted time, money and energy.

I am a glass-is-half-full person, so let’s look on the bright side:

  • I earned Skymiles and Expedia OneKeyCash on the car rental. Clearly that’s better than keeping my actual money. 🙄
  • I got to test drive a Subaru Forester. It’s THE car for folks in the Pacific Northwest. I’m trendy!
  • I got to catch up with my friend Jennifer on a two-hour call. Two hours! Y’all know that’s huge for me.
  • I met Amit, who is lovely, and now has a brand-new door key. Hope he gives me a good review. I did go the extra mile. 😉
  • I got my heart pumping thanks to road rage. Can we call it a Traffic Tantrum? (My agita!)
  • I really got to SEE Peachtree Street. Never paid much attention to most of the buildings before.
  • And also Peachtree Center Avenue, onto which I detoured.

Then I had to race to the airport.

It was … not a fun trip. And not productive. But at least I tried.

Tony (if I may be so bold), it would be great if you could somehow make the wayward items turn up during Amit’s stay.

Speak to the aliens, please. Have them beam them back down.

Thank you!

Your pal,
Beth

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Dear Dominic,

I’m so glad you were able to call me yesterday. It was the one present I wanted on Christmas, but didn’t think I’d get.

Hang on. There’s something in my eye.

OK.

I’ve sent three letters to you at Navy boot camp, and you had the nerve to tell Gideon on the call that you really wanted letters from him and your dad.

“Not that I don’t love your letters, Mom,” you said.

Sure.

And yes, I’ll send plenty of pictures of Vince. That dog misses you, for sure.

I do too.

It’s crazy that so much has happened since I saw you for Thanksgiving.

I mean … so much. The Monday after Thanksgiving, you passed another PST, got your orders the following week, and shipped out about 10 days later.

To be a Navy SEAL is a difficult path, and few make it. You are stubborn, though, and will follow through if it is your idea and something you want.

I’m proud of you.

I miss you.

I love you.

Hope to hear from you again soon. Be careful.

Love,
Mama

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Hi everyone!

It may or may not be a surprise, but Dominic made it to and through graduation.

During COVID, he just checked out of school. (Let’s be honest: He wasn’t exactly a star student before COVID either.) He just wouldn’t turn things in. He’d procrastinate until the very end then scrape by.

“So what are his plans now?”

Many, many people have asked. If I had a dollar for every time … well, you know.

I understand that it comes from a place of genuine curiosity, but I really am tired of saying, “I don’t know.”

I don’t know because Dominic doesn’t know.

He’s in teenage limbo where he has not yet found his passion and purpose.

I always knew what I wanted to do. I’ve always had a plan. I am not the kind of person who drifts through life.

But some people are, and that’s fine. He’s one of them. I’m not trying to impose my will on him.

He might work for a year.

He might go to college.

He might go into the military.

His friends know what they are going to do, and that adds pressure.

He’ll figure it out. The frontal lobe is still developing.

In the meantime, at least he’s passed this milestone. I’m proud of him.

And I’m as interested as everyone else in what’s next.

Beth

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Dear Friends and Family,

(You know the drill: Part 1, 2, 3 and 4.)

During my conversation with my father, he told me that he didn’t actually live at the address where I sent the letter. His ex-wife, Jan, still lives there with her son, my half-brother Brad. (They also have a daughter, Erin, my half sister.) Jan opened the letter, shared it with Brad, and he shared with David.

(After I asked Jan* about this part of the story, she said that when Brad called David, David talked about his crazy day. Brad said, “Dad, it’s about to get a whole lot crazier.”)

David now lives in Long Island in an apartment off my uncle’s house. (The apartment used to be my uncle’s dental office.)

Y’all. I mean. Can you IMAGINE Jan’s reaction? Brad’s? David’s?

I might have had to take some time to process, but David called me within 24 hours.

The call consisted of high-level catch-up, as you might expect. He seemed happy to know about me.

And Jan reached out to me on Facebook to welcome me to the family.

And Brad texted me to start a conversation.

How lovely is that?

David and I started talking regularly, and we decided we would meet when I visited New York for my annual birthday trip in December.

I flew into La Guardia and rented a car as the LIRR train schedule did not cooperate.

Brad: Have a good time! 
Me: Thanks. I'm on my way. Nervous.
Brad: So is he!

David was waiting on his porch when I pulled up. He said he felt like a kid at Christmas. I did too. (Add some flop sweat that Santa doesn’t usually get.)

He had a present for me:

I suddenly became very aware of my nasolacrimal ducts. Why? When I met Kathy, she gave me a present.

It was a gift David had given to her for her birthday when they were dating. She kept it all these years because it was the one thing that connected the three of us. And I had told him about it.

Oh Lord: There’s something in my eye. Hang on.

OK. Proceeding.

He took me to the main house to meet my Uncle Terry and Aunt Rosemary.

As it turns out, they and their family and David spent plenty of time in Savannah because they have a place in Hilton Head. Again, I could have run into them AT ANY POINT and not known about our connection.

Also, I would be staying the night in Uncle Terry and Aunt Rosemary’s house.

Y’ALL. These people JUST met me. I am a stranger. So this tells you a little something about how my existence was received.

The four of us went out to dinner and had a wonderful time. When we got back, David brought out a cake for my birthday.

I lost it (but tried not to).

He got me an ice cream cake (Carvel FTW!) without even KNOWING I am not a fan of regular cake.

It was … a lot. (I know I keep saying it, but cut me some slack. It IS a lot!)

The next day, we went on a drive to key places of interest for him and the family.

We laughed. We argued good naturedly. We got to know each other.

We went to the Long Island Aquarium.

As we were watching the sea lion show, I thought about how completely bizarre it was to be there with him. This is the kind of things dads do with their daughters when daughters are children. But here we were, making up for lost time.

Oh look: My lacrimal sac is acting up again. One moment.

I’m back.

It was bone-chillingly cold. My father doesn’t have any body fat (one area where I did NOT get his genes), so we didn’t linger at the lions.

We went back to his place to continue chatting. Before long, it was time for me to head into the city for the rest of the birthday trip.

I had plenty of thoughts to keep me occupied on the drive, along with a debrief phone call from a blogger friend.

I TOLD YOU it was a wild ride.

Just a little bit more to go if you want to join me. The final part is coming soon.

XO,
Beth

* Yes, I talk to Jan. Another weird and wonderful part of the story.

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