I’m Hot but Happy. 98 degrees yesterday here in Savannah (heat index way over 100); 95 today. Whew. But unless I’m having heat tremors, here’s what I’m happy about today.
1. Seeing Love listed as an ingredient on a product label.
But kale? KALE?? Seriously?
2. The surprising, intricate beauty of looking up in Savannah.
3. My good buddy Riboclavin …
… without a thermometer. Okay, so maybe he doesn’t seem to be enjoying his food 100%, but still, he’s sitting in the sun, getting a vitamin D boost.
4. As some of you know, my grandkids call me “Abu” (Cuban/Hispanic shortened version of grandfather) because I thought “grandfather,” etc sounded entirely too paternally old. Well, six-year-old Daniel and three-year-old Gabriel are WILD over Skylanders. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, DO NOT try to figure it out. It’s far too complicated. But the Skylander franchise is basically taking over the world, of kids. Anyway, I recently told D and G that a brand new, exciting Skylander figure had just come available on the market, AbuForce!
The three-year old bought it for minute until the six-year-old exclaimed, “No way, Abu. You’re joking again.”
“I am not,” I lied. (Why does that trait come so easily to me?)
“Prove it, then,” smart-mouth Daniel challenged.
“Okay I will,” I responded, having no clue how to do so, or even what I meant.
“When?” he asked, a little smart-mouthier.
“Tomorrow,” I easily answered.
Sometimes, angels come your way. I told my friend Robert about my dilemma. He laughed and said he might be able to help. It seems the U.S miltary has a program called Huggs-to-Go, providing dolls for children of service men and women deployed. The figures have a place at the face for pictures of dad or mom, etc. Since Robert is retired Army and currently works at Hunter Army Airfield, he somehow managed to get me two of the dolls.
I presented the AbuForce figures to Daniel and Gabriel the next day. Both, in shock that there really was an AbuForce, melted my heart with their excitement over my little joke.
And the following day, they brought unparalleled joy to my heart when they both told me that they slept with AbuForce.
So today I decided I really needed to do something about my limp, flyaway, graying hair.
I’m frustrated because, well, I’m beginning to look my age. And, you know, that just doesn’t seem natural. So I consulted the online Yellow Pages for area barbers and hair salons and read about an intriguing little place out near Skidaway Island (I’m in Savannah, by the way) called … The Babies Hair Salon.
I drove over, parked Skedaddler (my lil gray Scion) (gray seems to be a theme in my life lately) (just not fifty shades of it) (yet) and found myself being promptly greeted by, believe it or not, two surprised-looking BABIES! Ten-month-old twins Madison and Matthew …
When he saw my hair, I got the impression that Matthew had initial concerns about his and his sister’s ability to help me …
Perhaps Madison had the same concern, but she tried to mask her feelings with a blank stare.
Nevertheless, the duo led me into their salon’s inner sanctum.
“I’m beginning to see a color scheme here,” I thought perceptively and intelligently.
Matthew and Madison took a moment to look through their style books to see what they might be able to do for me.
“This is definitely going to be a challenge,” they seemed to be saying.
I felt my first tiny jolt of trepidation when I realized they were looking at books about cows and sheep.
With determination set clearly upon their young but professional countenances, the twins indicated for me to help them up into their work spaces.
“An odd request,” I thought. “They don’t do that at the Barber Pole downtown.” But, the completely compliant client, I obeyed.
And for about sixty seconds, everything seemed to be going well. Just typical stylist assessment techniques such as cranial observation and exploratory scalp manipulation.
Then, inexplicably, I got the distinct impression that Madison was somehow asking Matthew to consult with the monkeys on the wall about the next step.
But before I had time to investigate, they got to work.
“This might be fun,” I thought, kinda smiling.
Madison gently massaged in soothing hair cream.
Healthy hair.
Then they both started to get a little rough, I thought, for ten-month-olds.
Seemingly out of the blue, I sensed a frustrated Matthew yelling to Madison, “Enough of this, sissy! There’s no way to help this old man!”
“Bite him!” she might have said.
“What going on here?!” I thought in terror. “Are they baby vampires or something? Nick at Twilight?! Whatever. I’m outta here.”
As Skedaddler and I hightailed it back to Savannah’s historic district where I live across from Colonial Park Cemetery, I looked in my rearview mirror and thought, “You know, gray’s not such a bad color. It’s kinda in-between.”
(Thanks to Grandtwins Matthew and Madison for help with this post. And the iPhone’s reverse camera.)
Early yesterday morning I drove up to my north-of-Atlanta hometown of Ball Ground for a short visit with my mom and dad.
My dad–Harold or Tub–is 89 (90 in November–come to the party!), and my mom–Geneva–turned 86 in May. I can’t even begin to tell you how much fun we have when I visit. They taught me (are still teaching me) to laugh, to enjoy life.
Here are Ten Reasons I loved my little visit.
1. The early dinner that awaited me upon my 11 am arrival. Okay, for some of you this will be a bit confusing, but in Ball Ground lunch is called dinner, and dinner is called supper. (Breakfast is called Hardees.)
My favorite meal in the whole wide world consists of 1.) my dad’s creamed yellow corn. 2.) My mom’s fried sweet potatoes. 3.) A tomato and an onion.
The corn is scraped, raw, from the cob and meticulously cooked stove top, stirring constantly to keep it from scorching. It has the taste of heaven.
These sweet potatoes look a little burnt, and they should. That gives them the carmelized flavor. Cooked in a large cast iron pan, there’s nothing better. One stick butter, one cup sugar, sliced sweet potatoes. Orange joy.
Oh. My. Goodness. Thank you, Jesus.
2. The bird clock in my parents’ bathroom.
I like it best when the batteries get old, and the hourly bird calls become eerily elongated.
3. Walking around my folks’ small house (which my dad built BY HAND 34 years ago), looking at the bushes and trees.
4. Eating supper at Cracker Barrel. During the meal a very overweight but jolly lady came over to our table and said to my mom, “Honey, can I give you a hug? You remind me so much of my little grandma.” “Why, of course!” Mama replied.
“”Our hugs come in twos,” my dad said with a laugh. And then was amply rewarded.
I thought about saying, “What about me? Three’s company.” But my mouth was full of turnip greens and chow chow.
5. My mother repeatedly getting her supper choice, “eggs in the basket,” confused with a meal she had about forty years ago at IHOP called “pigs in a blanket.”
“Now what do you call this again, Neal?”
From the Cracker Barrel menu: Eggs in the Basket–Two slices of Sourdough Bread grilled with an egg in the middle of each, cooked to order and served with smoked sausage patties, turkey sausage patties or thick-sliced bacon and your choice of Fried Apples or Hashbrown Casserole.
6. Still at Cracker Barrel, as my dad stood in line at the counter paying (he INSISTED), another lady just finishing with paying her bill, saying to my dad, “Here, sir, let me pay for part of your meal with the rest of my gift card. Happy early Father’s Day?” And my dad, a bit confused at first, trying to PAY her for the gift card, before she finally hugged him and said, “No, no, I want to do this for you for an early Father’s Day present!” (While I stood over to the side between the pulled taffy and the Brad Paisley cd, unsuccessfully holding back laughter.)
As we finally left Cracker Barrel, my mom said to my dad, “You sure are hugging a lot of women today. I gotta get you out of this place.”
7. After loading mom’s walker in the trunk, and getting us all in the car, my mom, saying, “Tub, you should have asked that lady what days she usually eats at Cracker Barrel,” sending the three of us into giggles for two red lights, when I said to them, “I wonder if she would like to adopt us as her other family,” (which really wasn’t all that funny, but still got us roaring all over again, in the way you sometimes do when laughter is in the air.) Pulling off the Ball Ground exit from I-575, my dad said, “Those hugs were a pretty good way to spend an afternoon.” Because, of course, it was only 5:00 and we had already finished supper.
8. The feeling, even at my age, of being HOME.
9. The difficult but important discussion we had on this trip about what my mother would do if my dad died first.
“I just hope to goodness I go before Tub.”
“Now Neever (his version of Geneva), we can’t control those things.”
“What I really wish is that we could just go at the same time,” my mom said with total sincerity.
“Well, that might be possible,” my dad said with a twinkle in his eye, “the way I’ve been driving lately.” And we all laughed, at something so unfunny.
10. Experiencing irony as I was leaving Ball Ground the next day, stopping by a convenience store for a Yoo Hoo and a lottery ticket. The long-time teller printing out my ticket, as she mouthed, “straight to hell,” the lyrics of a country song blaring from the radio, and then handing me my Power Ball and saying, “You have a blessed day, sir!”
…at soccer camp and headed back to his house. Traversing up the driveway, discussing Skylander Giants, we both saw this at about the same time:
A small, dead, open-eyed possum in the neatly manicured front lawn. “Look, Abu! A big rat!” Daniel yelled, as he excitedly unbuckled his seat belt, careening toward the thing.
“I think it’s a possum, Daniel, and I also think he’s dead.” (WHY do I use verbs like “think” in times like this? The possum was dead as a doornail with bugs swarming around its head.)
“That means he’s not breathing,” Daniel explained to me.
“Why don’t you go in the house and cool off, while I get rid of our friend?”
“NO!” Daniel screamed. “We have to show it to Mommy!”
“Well, he can stay here for a few minutes.” (Like the possum was going somewhere.)
At about that time, Olivia and Larkin, the cute twins from next door, came running into the driveway, straight from a pool party. And of course, Daniel had to show them …
… explaining that the “rat, I mean possum, was dead and couldn’t move, so don’t touch it till Mommy comes home because we are going to show it to her.”
Happy happy, bo-bappy. Banana fanna, fo fappy. Fe fi mo mappy. Happy! (Did I do that right? I’ve spent about 45 minutes, trying it out with every relative’s name I can think of. I keep messing up.)
Friday. Happy Here’s Five:
1. A little bundle of joy.
(Grandtwin Madison)
2. This funny ad about rum.
*
“When you hurry through life, you just get to the end faster.”
3. Corn bread. Here’s some I made to go with cabbage and sausage the other night.
4. This great quote about talking your JOY.
5. Grandtwin Matthewfeeding Tyler.
May your weekend overflow with joy talk and joy walk.
Friday, Friday, Friday. Do you connect it with happiness? Here are five reasons I do.
1. Aspiring to being an optimist (even though I was SO SO ready to start a Depression Blog the other day when I tore a fingernail. Sad but true. I’m fine with optimism and happiness and contentment as long as I don’t feel any actual pain. But let me hurt, and for some immature, sick reason, I spiral down. TMI?)
2. Faith.
3. Oatmeal with real butter.
4. Susan Boyle singing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”
As I mentioned in the previous post, this past weekend brought two terrific parties, a street celebration Saturday night and then on Sunday afternoon the Sixth Birthday Celebration for my Grandson Daniel.
Before I escort you to Weekend Party Two, let me just explain that Daniel is one very COOL little boy. And here are Eight Sunglasses-Prominent Pics of D-man to prove it:
(With kindergarten teacher Ms. Lancaster)
(With little brother Gabriel)
Okay, maybe the twin girls froze him up a bit and reduced his coolness by a tad.
But NOT on his birthday. Here he sits, with his green faux hawk (aka fohawk) before his backyard party begins, “patiently” waiting for the Spiderman inflatable to blow up.
Almost there.
“I love it!”
Here’s Batman perched in the trees:
I have NEVER seen a balloon so huge. And the Spiderman pinata, ready to be lowered:
Soon the backyard fills with school and neighborhood friends.
A great hit at the party–the appearance of the folks and animals from Critters-to-Go. The kids (and adults) are fascinated.
“Okay, kids, now let’s all play with snakes!” (Neal’s first thought: “Is everyone here INSANE? What happened to the PRETEND superheroes theme?) Then out of the corner of my eye, I see courageous Batman hiding out in the trees away from all this.
Initially, Daniel’s not so sure. See? He’s a smart boy.
Every First Tuesday Savannah’s City Hall opens its doors for free tours. I know, I know, touring City Hall doesn’t sound like the most exciting entertainment venue around. But hold on just a second, compadre. After a hefty helping of Gabriella’s Zesty Chicken (on mashed potatoes) at Zunzi’s, I wobbled down Bull Street, remembering just in time to look up before I reached the river, and saw this …
… Savannah’s incredibly beautiful City Hall.
Completed in 1905 …
… City Hall features two figures who adorn the front, just below the clock and gold dome. And those two pretty ladies represent Commerce and Art. If you know anything about Savannah, you will find those figures so, so timely. Because what was true in 1905 is certainly true today: Savannah is both a big business city (Savannah Port and Gulfstream, for example) as well as a cultured, artistic town (SCAD, Savannah Music Festival, festivals galore).
Come along.
The original clockwork is now in the lobby:
I really loved the wood floor.
Looking up to the interior stain glass dome:
Some important Savannahian. (I want a bust made of me. Where can you go to get that done? Hobby Lobby? Michael’s?)
The plaque below looked historically official, so I stood there trying to read it to make people think I’m smart and all, but then I started daydreaming about the Vanilla Taffy down at River Street Sweets, so I took a picture of the plaque (which sorta still made me look smart because why else would you take a picture?).
Here I am with the really interesting tour guide (and SCAD grad), Luciana Spracher. She knew her stuff!
Did you know Savannah has a flag?
View from a back window of city hall:
Very cool open style elevator cage:
Something important looking:
I pretended to know the mayor. But you can only stand in front of her office for so long before people start to wonder what you’re doing.
TANGENT: A couple of months ago, I attended an event at the Savannah Civic Center with our mayor, Edna Jackson.
Okay, okay, maybe I wasn’t exactly with the mayor, but you can’t tell that from the above photo with her and Savannah State’s President, Dr. Cheryl Davenport Dozier.
*******
Luciana led us into the Savannah City Council chambers. For some reason I just got so excited.
Here I am sitting at the mayor’s desk. (Does she know people do this?)
What a fun (and educational) tour! Thanks, Luciana.
Friday, Friday, thank you for heralding happiness this week.
1. Driving back up on Wednesday to Statesboro and Georgia Southern University for the annual Retirees Recognition Ceremony. Retirees who have given ten years or more service to GSU have their names on plaques that are put on the wall at the Builders of the University Terrace.
And here I am with fellow retirees and good buddies Linda Arthur and Phyllis Dallas:
And who said there’s no such thing as a free lunch?
(Okay, maybe I put in a few years for that lunch. But the ham was good.) What a beautiful day!
2. Aspiring (great emphasis on “aspiring”) to live the rest of my life by thisquote from the novel I’m currently ready–The Light Between Oceans: “It isn’t safe to put off what matters.”
3. Walking down stairs …
… without falling.
4. The incomparable aroma of onions sauteing in olive oil.
5. Attending SCAD’s 15th annual International Festival in Savannah’s beautiful Forsyth Park.
NealEnJoy 