Thursday morning I left our island abode to meet with attorneys on a loan closing to finally refinance my Newnan home--a sugar-coated thorn in my side that I have determined must be part of my penance for something I did in a former life, or must learn about in this one....and for the record, it has taught me a lot. And for the record, I'm better for it. So I do not dislike the little house.
But what I had thought would be a series of small, unpleasant obligatory maneuvers sandwiched between two long 5 hour drives has turned out to be a much better little story. Today I'm still on the west side of the state, and it was warm enough that I had breakfast with my parents on their porch. And having just torn myself away from reading by the pool for what I suspect may have been more than a few hours, judging by the way the sun has moved, I felt compelled to make a contribution here.
As soon as mother caught wind I was going to be a crows flight away, I was informed of and invited to a champagne tasting at The River Club where my parents are frequent flyers, along with several of their closest friends--this is and was something I'm unable to decline. After learning a bit about five of the best French champagnes (and having most of that information bubbled away into effervescent faerie land), we had dinner and headed back to the big house where Mom immediately abandoned us for the comforts of bed. Alone in the living room and left to our own devices, Wayne and I debated on the best way to bring a nice evening to a respectable close, and decided the most fitting avenue was to have a glass of good whiskey. I added, "beside the fire" but Wayne refused to light even the smallest little fire--for a while, that is, because he was eventually convinced (by only a little daughterly whining) to throw a match and lighter fluid on a 'starter log' that I suppose he determined would entertain me for a sufficient amount of time without burdening himself with the "major responsibilities of having a real fire." I, being a very agreeable and realistic person, was perfectly satisfied with that.
Friday morning (early) Mother rode with me to meet the termite inspector at the aforementioned home of mine. While we were talking in the yard with Jared, my beloved (really) neighbor Parks, came over to see what all the activity was about. He also took a card from Jared that he hoped would result in some sort of attention that would compel his wife Judy to stop her fussing about a roach she saw in their bathroom the night before. Eventually the other two neighbors also ventured out of their homes to investigate as only proper southern folk can do--by pretending to have some particular chore that requires their being at least within earshot--Steve who was walking his annoying white lap dog and Mr. Rice who swore he was moving away years ago, had something that needed retreiving from the car--both very kind men who headed the trifecta of retired couples flanking and facing my Sixth Street bungalow and who, for the years I was there, seemed to make my family feel a lot better about their daughter/granddaughter/neice/sister/cousin being in a house by herself with no man to protect her. The one time Rob visited me at that house, Parks (unsolicited) unloaded every piece of lawn equipment he had in his shed so Rob could mold my yard into something more presentable for a young lady such as myself. This delighted my parents (and the other neighbors).
Moving along. Mom and I had breakfast in Panera--and there I had such a compelling feeling that I need to just get it out. I realized then, that there is something about coffee shops that makes it difficult for me to visit them with others without feeling strange, uncomfortable and very out of place. I am fine alone or standing in line with someone, but no-sit down and not with company. There, that's said.
Last night I cooked dinner for my parents. Carnitas. It was surprisingly a much more daunting task than it normally is when I'm doing them at home--but they were very nice and encouraging about how good the food was. Considering it was finally ready around 9pm I'm sure at least half of those compliments were directly influenced by near-starvation of eating dinner about 3 hours later than usual. Oops. While I was fussing over the fattiest pork shoulder I've ever seen, Wayne turned the television channel to something other than whatever follows Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune. He stopped on something that sounded loud..just loud...and I heard this, Wayne begins, followed by mother:
"what in the hell is this supposed to be"
"well push that information button and see"
"uhhh....Trans formers....huh. I think that's one of those young people shows"
"yea"
"might be good though"
"mm hmm"
(pause)
"we'll just leave it here and see if it's decent, then we can change it"
"sounds good"
We ate carnitas and watched Transformers until Wayne decided he was going to bed because clearly Bumble Bee had been killed and there was nothing more to see as he was not one bit happy about Bumble Bee being hurt and killed. I begrudgingly assured him that the autobot Bumble Bee wasn't dead but Wayne was skeptical until I assured him the same character is alive and well in another Transformer movie I'd seen. After the movie did end Wayne retired and mom and I stayed up flipping between watching haunted house stories and V for Vendetta.
I love my parents.
Then I went to bed and dreamt about being at the beach with my sweet new spousal unit. No surprise I didn't want to get up early today.
And here I am, about to wrap up my final day in southwest Georgia. I nearly finished the novel I brought with me to read--that's probably why I wanted to plug something onto this lonely page. And while reading I remembered a comment Rob made to me the other night about how he expects I should write a book someday. That's the kind of compliment that makes me smile and feel completely unworthy at the same time. I picture us in 10 years, having maybe published two books....and needing to have a room in the house dedicated to all the copies no one ever wanted. Sigh. Damn old fear of rejection is such a buggar.
I think that's about all I had to say. There was a lot swarming around my head the last few days so I feel better now having at least done something, even if most of the swarmers have tunneled off into the far cobwebs of my mind, at least until a time when I won't be able to write them down.
The sun has gone behind the trees and I notice it's time for me to start dinner. I have to redeem myself this evening on that, so off I go.
