profound statements from randy joe

my dad has said some profound things since i've known him. one of those things happened to come in the context of a lecture. a lecture of which steve, my husband, was on the receiving end. but to understand the lecture, you must first know that that my dad loves cars - buying them, selling them, taking care of them - through maintenance and having others wash and detail them. some people consider the eyes the window to the soul. my dad believes the condition of one's car is. so it truly bothered my dad when after a few years of marriage, i came home to visit and the honda that he had given me in college was badly in need of new tires. but i was only home for a short visit and although he inspected the car several times during this visit, he ultimately decided against taking it in for me and getting new tires. so i left on sunday morning on my five-hour trip back to birmingham. about an hour outside of nashville, in the fast lane of I75, my tire disintegrated. i managed to get the car through two lanes of traffic into the emergency lane and i called everyone i could think of, except my dad, who i decided must never, under any circumstances, know about this. i understood the magnitude of the impact this would have on my dad - i knew that there would be a 30-45 minute initial lecture, followed by a lifetime of references to the incident and the assumption from that day forward that steve and i were completely inept at car maintenance - which in my dad's eyes was a serious character flaw - one that in his own child, particularly a girl, might be overlooked, but for a son-in-law could be a deal-breaker. but back to the roadside, a trucker stopped to help change my tire and a state patrolman came soon after. i went to a nearby tire store (on a sunday morning) and paid 7 or 8 times what it normally cost to have a used tire installed on my car. and while it all worked out fine, the tire incident put me way behind schedule for returning home. and so approximately 5 hours and a minute or so after i left nashville, my dad called birmingham and steve answered and of all things, told my dad - the TRUTH. this, of course, sent my dad into a tirade - which began and ended with the following statement (which was also restated multiple times throughout the lecture) - "a car caint run without no tires." i can also tell you that this statement is repeated by me and steve (and a few friends) every time cars are discussed.

i don't know what came over steve during the phone call that made him want to tell my dad about the blow-out, but i know that he learned a valuable lesson that day (in addition to learning that cars need tires to run) - never tell my dad things that make him worry - particularly if those things reflect negatively on your ability to maintain and properly care for your vehicle.

all swolled up and gone to stankin'

aside from all the normal but great "dad" things that my dad has done - like always letting me keep the change or embarrassing me to no end throughout high school - my dad is an entertainer. and not the piano-playing or professional kind, but the have-several-drinks-and-tell-funny-stories kind. but to truly appreciate any stories about my dad, you must be willing to imagine a thick southern accent whenever i am quoting him. and if you are willing to do that, i will share a few of his best quotes in a series of blog entries.
the first story about my dad isn't really about him as much as it is a story that he tells and that many of my friends now quote regularly. it goes back to the early 80s when my dad was on the city council in nashville, georgia - a very small (3-traffic-light, no movie theater) town in way south georgia. as a city councilman in a small town, he apparently often got phone calls about almost anything that wasn't right in nashville. so one night, around 9pm, the phone rang and my dad answered and the concerned citizen said "randy joe (because that's my dad's name), theys a dead dog that been runned over and is layin' up in my yard." and my dad, not sure how this concerned him said "well, what you want me to do about it?" and the citizen says "well, i want you to come and git it. it's done swolled up and gone to stankin'." and i'm sure that i don't do this story any justice by typing it out here, but i have to tell you, since hearing my dad tell this story, nothing in my world is ever just swollen - although sometimes things (an ankle, a river, etc) have "done swolled up" but haven't "gone to stankin" yet. and thanks to my dad, i can't help but smile every time i see a bloated animal carcass resting on the side of the highway.

the principal's office

i was called to the principal's office on friday because apparently there was some concern over what my seven-year-old son mac had written on his florida standardized writing test. at the risk of boring you, i have decided to share the writing in its entirety with you. my only comment is that i find it sad and yet somehow still amusing.

Instructions: Everyone likes to play outside. Write about something you like to play outside.

Mac's response:

I just sit and do nothing. I barly go outside because yesterday I ate dinner at 3:00 in the afternoon because of baseball. thats why I don't play outside is because of baseball. Grrr. It makes me angry. I never ever, ever, ever go outside. Aw man. This makes me so Angry. I can't write - Ok? Alright. But I shoud not go to baseball and...... Oh I can't take it Anymore.

(the remaining 30 or so lines of the paper are left blank)

birds and baseball

you know what i love most about little league baseball? perspective on little league baseball. and here is what i mean. my son is seven. he loves birds - all kinds of birds - wrens, sparrows, owls, sea gulls, pelicans, sandpipers - he knows them all and loves to identify them. but when it comes to baseball - well, he likes it okay. and so we go to games about four days a week (and don't forget the practices). his team, the tigers, got off to a promising start, they won their first game. little did we know at the time, it would be their only win (to date). during the second game, the tigers were down by 17 or so points and mac started crying. and not just sniffling or some kind of muffled embarrassed crying but full on bawling. i go to the dugout and he turns around and looks at me with hugely swollen eyes and a tear-streaked face and says "this is a nightmare." a little dramatic, i know. but finally, after some kind of mercy-ruling, the game is called and it's over. until the next saturday when the tigers were due for their next beating. this time, the opposing team happens to be the team that includes mac's two best friends - matthew and tanner. by the second inning, matthew and tanner's team is spanking the tigers and mac is again crying uncontrollably in the dugout - so much so that the coach has asked me to come over and console him. i reach him and all he can say is that he wants to be on matthew and tanner's team. i could hardly blame him, looking at the scoreboard, but it was still extremely embarrassing and not to mention, a complete downer for mac's teammates who were still out playing ball and actually trying, against all odds, to win the game. fortunately, around that time, mac was distracted by, of all things, an osprey. he recognized the bird by its wingspan and its tendency to nest in tall man-made structures like the giant lights that light up ball-fields. and soon, once again, the game was called (again, a mercy ruling) and we were out of there. steve and i, taking with us, our budding ornithologist and our comfort that we were exposing our son to team sports no matter how miserable it might be for us, the team and the teammates' parents. but a day or so after the game, i told the story to a friend on the beach, who happens to be close to 60 and he laughed at my son's lack of interest in baseball and was impressed by his interest in birds and by his ability to recognize and remember characteristics of them. it occurs to me that when you tell this story to someone that is, i am guessing, over about 50, they seem to have better perspective. they don't express concern or sympathy that your son might not be having a positive little league experience. they laugh because it's funny and because they know that in the big scheme of life and things, it doesn't really matter.

not cool

it's inevitable. getting older changes you. you become less fun. teenagers have it right - people over 30 (especially those with kids) are not cool and if you are over 30 and teenagers do think you are cool, you are probably a loser. i thought about this a few years ago while sitting in traffic. i was trying to get into a left turn lane at a busy intersection and some asshole wouldn't let me over. so when the light changed, i gunned my jeep cherokee and cut in front of him, making my left turn almost up on two wheels. which was all fine until i realized that during the turn, somehow the back part of my jeep had flown open and my double stroller had catapulted from the jeep and come to a rest dead in the middle of the intersection. and so it was after i pulled over and walked into middle of the intersection and retrieved my stroller that it hit me that i would never be cool again. and it wasn't as though up to this point i had thought of myself as particularly cool. rather, i had enjoyed the possibility of it. i have long since said goodbye to that notion although i still grieve it on occasion.

crazy mary

i always say that beach people are crazy but when i think about other places i have lived, i know that crazy people are everywhere. and while they may be more concentrated here at the beach, one of the craziest people i ever met was in a small town in georgia. crazy mary. i knew crazy mary because she was the wife of my husband's coworker (that i will call lou). lou and mary were in their late 40s and were by all accounts an interesting couple. crazy mary and i would see each other at work-related gatherings - where one might assume that conversations would be rather dry since the common link among the women was a career that was not our own. over the five-year period when i knew crazy mary, we probably had five conversations - each more memorable than that last. the first time i met her was at a christmas party. it was beside the dessert table that she told me she was disappointed because she was unable to drink that night because of her hepatitis medication - and then she went on to say that "what with the DUI" and wrecking her husband's antique car (that he spent years restoring), it was probably for the best. and you really have to know crazy mary to truly appreciate the conversation - but try to keep in mind that she talks extremely loudly and has a southern accent that sounds fake - like the kind in movies.
the second time i talked with her was at an interview party for residency candidates. we were discussing how we grew up and she said to me "i grew up in alabama and my daddy liked for everybody to think he was real liberal and he was, right up til the time i started dating a black guy. but you know, he was just scared i was having sex with him - WHICH I WUZ." again, you have to keep in mind that words like "black," "sex," and "which i wuz" were said at a volume that exceeded all other voices in the room - at a party - that was loud.
but i think my favorite conversation with crazy mary was my last. it took place outdoors at a pool party. and it went like this.

crazy mary: so i guess you heard about lou's love child.

me (trying to contain my excitement over what might come next): no, i didn't hear about that. (crazy mary unaware of my response and perhaps even my presence).

crazy mary: well, apparently our best friend denise's son chris who is 19 is lou's. i guess lou and denise had a thing right before our wedding. and she just told him that chris is his.

me: really? i hadn't heard that.

crazy mary: well, i figure if youre gunna have a step kid, thats the way to do it is to get him when he is already grown. and i can't hold it against lou. i mean, who would i be to get all messed up about that after what i did on my bachelorette weekend.

unfortunately, we were interrupted (by a girl who was horrified when she caught on to the gist of the conversation) and so i never did get the details on that bachelorette weekend. i suspect it might have made for the best blog entry yet. but i suppose that is how things go for me - we keep moving around and i have to keep finding new crazy people to entertain me.

the easter bunny and other crap

i can play along with a lot of things - like santa claus and even the tooth fairy, but trying to tell my kids with a straight face that a giant bunny comes into our home and leaves them candy seems wrong to me. a few years back, my daughter inquired "is the easter bunny a real rabbit?" i was stumped but somehow managed to change the subject. what was i going to tell her? either yes, a giant bunny is able to penetrate a deadbolt and bypass our alarm to get candy into her basket or i could ruin it for her which would have likely lead to more questions about other fictitious beings that sneak into houses in the dead of night to bring treats to children.
but i think what bothers me most about easter (and valentine's day for that matter) is that target and wal-mart manage to fill two aisles with holiday-related crap. am i seriously expected to decorate my home for easter? i think an easter-egg wreath represents all that is wrong with our society - or perhaps it is just a reflection of my inadequacies as a homemaker and member of society. who can be sure? but don't go thinking that i am not a complete hypocrite - my kids will have baskets full of all of my favorite candies and we are going to an easter egg hunt on saturday. maybe, if i am really motivated, i can get them to church on sunday and they can learn about whatever role jesus used to play in easter.

celebrating our differences

i have been thinking about people lately and how much i dislike them. okay, that isn't true. but i was thinking about how often it seems that the very characteristic that you like about someone ends up being the same thing that drives you crazy. for instance, i have this friend, that i will call krista (in the hope that she won't recognize herself if she reads this blog). and krista is one of those people that just says what is on her mind, without hesitation. i love this about her - you can always count on her to be completely honest with you and you never have to guess what she is thinking. the other side of this, however, (the part that i don't love so much) is that i have heard the following statements come out of her mouth (again, without hesitation): "i just don't like fat people" and "weren't you mad at the guy who gave you cervical cancer?" (said to a girl who had just finished chemotherapy). and once, she started a story just like this - "so the other day Dan and I were having sex on the bathroom floor..." what made this funny to me was that the story had nothing to do with sex, it was about the hardware she had selected for her new bathroom. while i do realize that krista is an extreme example, i think that most people are like this. my husband is another example. i love that he is reserved and even-tempered, he is very unlikely to offend anyone or make an ass of himself (opposites attract, i suppose) and he hardly ever gets upset or mad about anything. the other side of that, which of course drives me crazy, is that he doesn't get excited about or really enjoy participating in gossip. i can come home with the absolute best of stories (like "you won't believe what my friend krista said...") and the most i get out of him is "really?". but i suppose that is what girl friends are for and honestly, i think girls are better at talking about people anyway. i used to feel bad about gossiping until a good friend of mine said that i should think of it as celebrating our differences. and really, isn't that what it is?

why i have so few friends - a mystery unraveled

okay, so i just got back from a girls' lunch. it was a birthday lunch - but stop right there if you are thinking birthday cake, drinks, gag gifts or anything fun. it was salads and tea all the way around - and expensive gifts - like the $75 name brand monogrammed beach bag kind of gifts. but i have to back up to give you a more accurate picture of how this went down. i arrived and i knew the birthday girl and two of her eight friends that had come to celebrate.
the tea ordering commenced and i ordered a stella on tap. the ordering of an alcoholic beverage at the lunch did not go unnoticed - although one girl commented that she would have ordered a beer had she known i was going to - nevermind that this was right after mine came and still well before our meals arrived which would have given her plenty of time to order one, which she did not. i ordered the cuban sandwich (yes, the kind with, dare i say it - bread and cheese and meat) and the black bean chili.
during the course of lunch conversation, the girl beside me who is very nice, catholic and from birmingham (mountain brook, to be exact) was telling everyone how she had given up sweets for lent. she went on to say that her daughter had also given up sweets and how hard it had been for the two of them especially since a gourmet chocolate shop had just opened up right down the street, yada yada yada. now, this girl is very nice, but she is the personality type that makes me want to say things that i shouldn't - shocking or at the very least, not very proper things - the kind of things that wouldn't be said at a ladies' lunch in mountain brook. that is the only reason i can come up with for why i belted out with "i don't think god cares if you eat candy." this silenced the table and all eyes turned to me. all i could say at that point, with my face burgundy, was that i had given up vacuuming for lent. this didn't smooth things over as i had hoped and i think they may have suspected that it wasn't true. and as if that wasn't enough, i proceeded to get into an argument with another guest about the local school over-crowding issue that people here seem to be in denial about. as you might have guessed, that didn't go over so well either - although slightly better than the god comment, i have to say. and to think i had been worried that the real embarrassment of the lunch would be that my gift was a crappy $10 coffee mug.
eventually though, after salads, tea refills and the oohing and aahing over fancy presents (save mine), the ladies' lunch concluded. i thought i couldn't have been more disappointed in my ability to blend with lunching-ladies - but the real cherry on top was when i got in my car and looked in the rear view mirror and caught a glimpse of a black bean lodged, not just in between, but on top of one of my front teeth. as an after-thought, i decided that maybe instead of remembering all of the offensive and inappropriate things i had said or my crappy gift, the ladies would just remember the black bean on my tooth. in any event, i don't see any more lunch invitations in my future.