Soybeans & Beer...

I've been doing quite a bit of reminiscing, and remembering stories and events from the past. It's all been very interesting. Most of what I have blogged about can be found on my other blog "musings from the marsh...". "musings" has developed a certain tone, and I think this tale to be better suited for this blog ("42")...which has become sort of my 'general' blog. A place for 'everything else'.

It was the early '80's. Around 1983-84. I was attending Georgia Southern College (it has since become a University), and as I did on a number of occasions, I headed over to the campus apartment complex 'The Pines' to hang out with friends. Before I start rolling along with the story, I'll point out that I'm not 100% sure of one of the individuals involved in this little escapade. Here is the cast of characters as I remember them: me, Mark, Lisa #2, one of the neighbors from the apartment below, and (here's the person I'm not completely clear on) Alan. Mark and Alan were the friends whose apartment I was visiting. My best friend, Sandy, was there but took a pass. Also, I'm not sure if Jay or Glenn was residing there with Mark and Alan at this particular time, but it doesn't really effect the story either way. Whomever it was had opted to stay behind. See? Irrelevant.

We were hanging out engaged in our usual time of watching TV and drinking mass quantities of beer. There was probably the usual amount of juggling going on, too. It was what we basically did most of the time when we weren't in class...aside from hanging out at the radio station, which is what I did a lot. BUT...I digress...

Since I've already mentioned "one of the neighbors from the apartment below", I think it has been established that Mark and Alan lived on the second floor. The downstairs neighbor (whose name escapes me) was a bit of a tool, and I seem to remember that there had been past scuffles with him over loud music. I don't know why he happened to be included in this, but he was. (Now that I'm thinking about it, I think there was a certain amount of flirting going on between the neighbor and Lisa #2.) So we were all drinking mass quantities of beer, most likely Milwaukee's Best...at $5.00 a case, who would pass that up? It was your basic piss in a can, but crappy beer + college students = good time. It was during that evenings buzz that an idea was born.

GSC is located in Statesboro, GA, a town most known for the Allman Brothers tune "The Statesboro Blues". I'm sure it has grown since those days, but at the time it was kind of a wide place in the road. A town surrounded by farm land, and the like. There were a few spots outside of the confines of the campus that students would visit. I remember one was a covered bridge...don't recall the allure of the location, other than it being a covered bridge on a dirt road. Another was the center of the brilliant idea. On a quiet road that ran between soybean fields was an old house. Most of the students thought it to be haunted. At least that's what the rumor was. It was a creepy looking place. Two stories high, with scraggly trees around it. A fence with 'No Trespassing' signs on it ran around the little plot it occupied. The only other signs of habitation were a farm house a few block lengths down the road on the opposite side, and a trailer in the other direction that sat a short ways off from the house. It was known to be the abode for the caretaker of the haunted property.

So...what was the brilliant idea? To try and go inside said haunted house. We were a small band of buzzed twenty-somethings. How could our little plan go wrong? Correction. We didn't really have a plan. In retrospect, the only plan we did have was to drive to the vicinity of the house in my Corolla station wagon. The rest would be figured out later. Actually, I think we just ended up making it up as we went along. (The more the story forms in my mind, the more Alan is coming into focus...I'm pretty sure he was in attendance.) Grabbing jackets and flashlights, we piled into my car and were off.

The roads were dead quiet. Not that it was a shocker, or anything. There weren't really any streetlights, so it was extremely dark. If you looked up, all of the stars were present and accounted for. As we neared our target, we made note that the farmhouse to our right was dark. As we neared the haunted abode, the trailer looked dark, as well. Perfect. I did a casual drive by, and turned around to head back the other way a bit. We had spotted a small dirt road that went along a fence. Obviously there for farm equipment, and such. It was decided that it was the best place to pull the car off. We would proceed the rest of the way on foot through the field. We were having a great time at that point. What could go wrong? Aaa, who were we kidding...we were a bunch of idiots...

Lisa #2 was probably the most nervous of the group. Mark and "the tool" were in the lead, and me, Lisa #2 and Alan followed. We were traipsing along between bright green rows of soy bean plants. Rows that had been watered not too long before. It was very muddy...and very sticky. We all had mud caked on our shoes. As we crept forward, we came close to a rickety old barn that stood outside of the fence barring us from our destination. Wait...did you hear that? A faint rumbling. Like an engine being started. *flick* Are those headlights? It seemed that the inhabitants of the trailer were there after all. Slowly the truck (it was a pick-up truck) pulled down the drive and out onto the asphalt of the road, and carefully made it's way past the posted property. All of us dove into the mud below the soy bean plants. They were good cover. Lucky for us. The truck made it past our location, we heard it go up the road a short ways, turn around, and head back toward us. *flick* What the...is that a spotlight? At that point I think we all may have peed a little. Visions of shotguns danced through our heads. My first thought was that they must have seen my car parked behind the fence. They knew we were there. Somewhere. They sat there scanning the field for any signs of life, and we stayed low in the mud and silent as the grave. After a few minutes, I guess they...well, I have no idea what they must have thought. Whatever conclusion they came to, they drove back up to the trailer, went inside, and it went dark once more.

Okay, here's where it really gets interesting. All was quiet except for the usual country crickets, and low laughing and whispers from us. Mark was on a mission. He was determined to find an area of fence that he could maneuver. The field side where we were was not that manageable. I think the difficulties stemmed from barbed wire, but for some reason I'm vaguely remembering something about an electrified fence...I could be wrong though. At any rate, Mark and "the tool" headed to the fence that ran behind the house. Mark hit pay dirt and found a section that was passable. Then...

Did I hear something? There was a dull rustling/rummaging sound over by the house. We couldn't see a thing as it was pitch black in the houses immediate vicinity. Something didn't feel right. There was another sound...like the dragging of a chain. Simultaneously, our mental bulbs flickered on. There was a dog on the property. That's all we needed. For the dog to start yapping. If anyone was going to start the chained canine barking, it was going to be Mark. As I remember, Alan took off quickly towards Mark to alert him. Then it happened. An ear piercing scream knifed through the air. Maybe not so much a scream as a blood curdling screech. Like an irate Banshee. Mark, Alan, and "the tool" were hauling ass towards me and Lisa #2. Not only did the house have it's own watch dog, it also had a watch peacock. (Peacocks are known to be effective watch animals because of the noise they make...something we experienced first hand.)

I think we probably would have made the Keystone Cops proud. All of us were assholes and elbows, slogging through the muddy field. Lisa #2 lost a shoe in the muck, and insisted on going back for it. Was she new? I mean, that WAS her standing there next to me when all hell broke loose...right?! Alan helped her get her shoe back, but I think he was about to the point of leaving her to deal with it herself. The lights were on at the caretakers trailer. No idea how long they had been on by the time we started booking it between the soybean bushes. At that point I just wanted to get back to the car and get the hell out of there.

We made it back to my car, and piled in. I do remember the truck coming back to life and start to follow us. They probably had just been sitting inside out of the chill, waiting for something to alert them to our location. They knew we were out there. They were right. The truck was on the road with the spotlight on when we made it back to the car. I was a little freaked out, and I;m pretty sure I wasn't the only one. I managed to get the key in the ignition, fire up the engine, and back out onto the road where I slammed the car into first and floored it. Our mission thwarted, the guys watched out the back window as I sped off. The truck didn't follow. Thankfully. Getting in a car chase with some shotgun wielding farmers wasn't something I was prepared to deal with.

We got back to the apartment in one piece. Mud was dealt with, and mass quantities of crappy beer were consumed. I don't recollect the response given by those we shared our story with...I'm sure they thought we were nuts. (hehehe)

Mark and Alan, I'm hoping that you can fill in some blanks on this. Maybe you remember some stuff too, Sandy. I remember a number of the key points, but I'm sure you three might remember some details that I don't. There might be some of the stuff I mentioned that you remember differently. Please share.

Ah, the recklessness of youth...snerk...

This Day...What A DRAG...

Had another one of my sleepless nights. (I have been passing out and sleeping through most of the day time hours...annoying, but I am getting some rest.) In the wee hours of Monday morning I was channel surfing and happened upon a documentary film on the LOGO network, 'Trantasia'. Drag queens have always been a fascination of mine. I had a few gay friends growing up, but the number increased starting in my late teens - early twenties. My mother always had an eclectic mix of neat friends, and when she rented the bottom floor of a big purple house in mid-town Atlanta she was right in the heart of 'Boy's town'. The house was about a block away from Piedmont Park, so the annual art festival (she had had paintings of hers in the art show there before), concerts with a picnic in tow, and whatever else was happening were usually on the schedule of events. I lived with her a few times in the early to mid-80's...I was in and out of college for a bit there, and crashed with her during the 'out' periods. During one of my stays with her, I became acquainted with the current Queen of Drag, RuPaul. My mom's landlord, Barbara, knew Ru. Ru came to the house to see her on a couple of occasions when I was home. I happened to be coming or going when Ru was coming or going, so...there ya go. Ru was really nice, but I don't remember her as being the Diva that she is now. I knew about the gay/drag club in Atlanta, but had never been there to see a show. Think that's where Ru had her beginnings. I'm not 100% sure, but I seem to remember it being called "Illusions". (Which might be why the backstage lounge on her 'Drag Race' show is called the "Illusions Lounge".) On a day-to-day basis, I would see a drag queen here and there. However, those days didn't really compare to when I eventually moved to California, and lived in West Hollywood. WeHo (I really hate that abbreviated name for it...) is kind of the Gay capital. Or one of them. I think at one time it was San Francisco, but I think West Hollywood is at the very least tied with SF now. I would see flamboyant, drag, tranny...everything you can think of it's there. A number of years back when La Cage Aux Folles (msp?) was still there on La Cienaga, I took in a few shows. Really spectacular. Those boys really knew how to be girls. (hehehe) There were also a couple of yearly events that took place very near to where I lived. Every Halloween was the big carnival down on Santa Monica Boulevard. That was quite the experience. It was always amazing to see the costumes, and some of those ladies looked amazing! Unless someone said "hey, that's a guy" I don't think that a lot of people would have been able to tell that they were men and not women. The year 'Priscilla Queen of the Desert' came out, there were queens strolling around with ostrich hats on, and everything else imaginable. They really go all out. The other event is the Gay Pride Parade. It would always line up on my street. As much as I support gay rights, I really wish they would have lined up somewhere else. When you are trying to sleep in on a Sunday morning, and are awakened by loud Donna Summer music and shrieking drag queens...well, you're glad it's only one day out of the year.

So...when I came across 'Trantasia', I had to watch. The housework I was trying to complete became sporadic, and then was shelved all together. It would just have to wait until the show was over. Here's the basic premise per IMDB:



"Las Vegas promoters planning a review starring Jahna Steele invited transsexuals to participate in "The World's Most Beautiful Transsexual Pageant," a two-day contest from which eight or so women would be offered jobs in the review. About 20 women arrive for all-night rehearsals and the pageant itself: swimsuit, evening gown, and talent competition, the selection of eight finalists and three prize winners. We follow the women backstage and get in-depth profiles of six: two from Chicago and one each from LA, San Francisco, San Antonio, and Columbia, South Carolina. We meet their families, and we learn about their lives and their journeys of self-discovery and acceptance."

There was quite a mix of personalities, and drag ethics (if that makes any sense). There were a few of the 20 gals that were really turned off because of the sleazy/trashy sensibilities of some of the others. Some consider themselves to be ladies and conduct themselves as such, while others are dressing like street walkers and flashing their hormonally created breasts. At the end of it all, with a few differences (like the changed plumbing...which I don't think the majority of them had), they are people like everyone else. They just happen to have been physically born the wrong gender. For me the most interesting part of the film was when they did their individual bio's on some of the contestants. To hear their back story, and most interesting, to see how their families felt about them. For me the most touching back story was when they were focused on Mimi (Mark). She had it rough in school, but her family was extremely supportive. Her sister was saying that she knew before Mimi even said anything. It's a shame that all families can't be accepting. We're all human, after all. At the end of it all, Mimi was the winner. She and one of the others were absolutely stunning. I can usually tell, but in Mimi's case I don't know if I would know she wasn't a biological female unless someone told me. See what I mean?



That was the beginning of my 'Day of Drag'. The whole day on LOGO was back episodes of 'RuPaul's Drag Race'(which I didn't subject Glenn to...hehe), and the new season premiered last night.



I watched the previous two seasons, so I had to catch the opener for season three. Unlike the other two, I already have a favorite for the win, Raja. He/she totally thinks outside of the box, and does it so well. She won both challenges in episode one. Think that's a good measure of how far she will go. I'm no expert on drag. Can't even begin to know what it's even like to be gay. That being said, I've known a few drag queens and they always talked about how it was about feeling feminine but having fun. There is plenty of room for being camp and over the top, but doing it in a polished and tasteful way. Raven was a bit like that last season, and Raja is definitely like that this season. I think all of the other girls need to watch out.

I recommend it. It's fun, but not without it's drama. Those queens can bite, and they do. I stayed tune for the "Untucked" 30-minute episode that aired immediately after 'Drag Race'. It's of the Queens backstage. The cat claws were definitely out. I'll be curious to see how things progress.

Views & Reviews...

Seems I'm suffering from split blogging. My new blog, "Musings From The Marsh", is clearly going in a specific direction...metaphysics, astrology, astronomy, and the like. Glenn refers to it as my "spooky" blog. This blog (42) has been quiet for a couple or three months. I'm officially shaking it awake, and will be using it for...everything else. There ya go.



Last evening we watched our latest Netflix flick, "9". It was absolutely terrible. Visually pretty? Yes. Story wise? A waste of time. If I hadn't been crocheting during most of it, I would REALLY have felt that I had wasted my time. I won't give anything away in case anyone who reads this is still planning on seeing it. It didn't engage me at all. I didn't care about the tiny robots (the '9') which I was clearly supposed to. Ya know, I don't want to waste anymore time explaining my reasons for not liking it. Next...



The DVD we got before the aforementioned '9' was the pilot to 'Blade: The Series'. I watched all of the episodes when they aired on Spike, and I was extremely disappointed when they cancelled it. The movies with Wesley Snipes were good...not equally, but good nonetheless. Hip Hop artist Sticky Fingaz plays Blade in the TV version, and he's quite good in the role. The casting over all was great. British actor Neil Jackson played the main baddie, Marcus Van Sciver, and played him quite well. He played the vampire role with a nice mix of evil and pathos. When he's describing the vampire way of life to the newly turned Krista, he makes it sound pretty good. He sells the family honor and history card well. Krista, the main femme fatale (of sorts) is played by Jill Wagner, who you may know as one of the hosts of the crappy TV competition show 'Wipeout'. (That show is an extremely bad take off on 'Ninja Warrior' if you ask me, but that's another entry though.) When 'B:TS' went off the air, it was just another example of a decent show going bye-bye while the crap keeps getting picked up. I enjoyed seeing the pilot again, and look forward to seeing the rest. In the not too distant future, Glenn and I will have to get an XBox so we can watch Netflix stuff on demand instead of having to get the DVDs one at a time. Now that we've started watching more series, it's annoying to have to watch them in such a drawn out manner. I prefer the marathon method. We've got another series I really liked in the cue, 'Space Above & Beyond'. Can't decide if I want to wait until we've seen all of 'Blade' first, or if we should stagger the discs between the two. I know we can watch them on the computer, but that's a bit of a hassle. Decisions, decisions...



The Logo Channel has been showing mini-marathons of a show I was completely addicted to, and one that I greatly miss. "Buffy The Vampire Slayer". I'm not even going to mention the feature film starring Ms. Swanson...but then I guess I just did. I'm not going to talk further about it then. (hehehe) The series was far superior. I loved everything about it. The writing, the casting...everything. All of the seasons on DVD have been on my wishlist for some time.

I watched a couple of the episodes Logo was airing the other night, and it made me think of all of the noise about the 'Twilight' Franchise. I haven't read one of the books, nor have I seen any of the movies. I don't plan to either. It just looks like 'Dawson's Creek' meets '90210' with blood suckers. I am a huge Vampire fan, but 'Twilight' doesn't interest me. Sparkly vampires...sheesh...give me a break. Yes, a number of the characters in Buffy are young, and there is a bit of drama that goes on...and yes, there is mortal/vampire love going on...it's all in how it's handled. There is a comic booky/campy edge to things that is kind of balanced with a huge dark streak running through the middle of everything. I think Joss Whedon was trying to make up for the terrible movie...don't think the world created in the feature is how he envisioned things. Think I may have read that somewhere in an interview with Joss.

I have really been enjoying the episodes I've seen recently. I've missed the Sunnydale gang. Spike was my fave from his first appearance. Marsters played him wonderfully. Spike was an evil dude, but you couldn't help but like him. Giles is my second fave. However, he lost favor with me towards the end when he went in on a plan to kill Spike (Spike was being controlled by The First, and any time he would hear a song his mum used to sing to him he would vamp out and attack people). Running a very close third on my favorites list is Willow. Alyson Hannigan played her so well. The quirkyness and the 'Willow Speak'. Brilliant.

The last thing I want to mention on the Buffy front is something I have major mixed feelings about, and there is a part of me that hopes they don't "go there"...but they are, so I'll just have to be torked off. The last reports I got on a projected Buffy feature film were that Whedon and...well, anyone else associated with the original series or the original film will NOT be involved. The new screenwriter, A 29 year old chick, Whit Anderson, says that 'Buffy' was at the center of her TV viewing when it was originally airing. I'm just not feeling very optimistic about what she's going to do with the property. I read a few articles about the new project, one of them a kind of intro to Anderson. The growing impression I got as I continued to read was that those involved with the new feature went out of their way to not involve any of the old guard...behind or in front of the camera. To me it's just too soon to be doing this with the franchise WITHOUT the original cast or Whedon. Yes, the original cast members are a bit older, but they still look damn good. James Marsters, for example. I've seen him on several shows over the past bit, and he's looking really good. Geller and Hannigan look great, too. This is all a big mistake. In my opinion. Whedon has responded to things, and in his response there is one sentence that stands out.

"I always hoped that Buffy would live on even after my death. But, you know, AFTER…"

I agree. Too soon to be doing what they're doing. They're making a movie that I personally am planning to pass over on principle.

Cool, Calm, & Moody...

...my stroll today...not me...well, maybe sometimes...a little.

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Yesterday was October 1st. The first day of my favorite month of the year. I decided one of my mellowing walks was in order, so I grabbed the camera and set out. I've been spending a lot of time down by the marsh, so I decided to head the other way. Back towards Stephen King trail and feral cat territory. I started by skirting the edge of the...can't remember what Glenn calls it. Hang on a sec. (venturing into the living room) He says it's a tidal "crick" ('creek' to the people residing outside of the southern states)...empty when the tides out, and full when the tides in. I have two separate terms for the two states of our "crick". When the tides out, it's the "mud flat". When the tides in, it's the "lagoon". It has that "lagoon" feel. Kind of like on Gilligan's Island. The water takes on an earthy green color. Plus, I just dig that word. Lagoon. Since the tide was out, I skirted the edge of the mud flat.

The reeds are pretty thick and high at the moment. Appropriately on the first day of October, the air was much cooler than the temperatures we had before that ranged in the 90's. A slight breeze was blowing playfully through the leaves and Spanish moss, and rustled faintly through the reeds. We had a couple of days of rather heavy rain a day or two ago, and the ground was still a tad soft. I don't know if I can articulate properly how it was quiet but not quiet. Quiet in the sense that there weren't any sirens or car horns. No helicopters sounding like they were going to land on me. No loud music pumping so loud I felt like I was getting a heart massage from down the street. The sound was...right. Natural. Yeah, I could hear someone talking here and there, or here the dull clang of a pan in someones kitchen, but those sounds weren't dominating everything. They didn't feel like an intrusion. They were just signs of life. Like the rustling of the reeds. The flap of wings as a heron who was hunting for food in the mud became startled and decided to find another spot where there were no disturbances. The giggles and unintelligible calls of children riding their bikes past the front of the nearest building. Sounds, yes, but no cacophonous din assaulting my ears. Just cool, calm, and moody...in an extremely good way.

Walking this route, I came across what I call the "Blair Witch stones". This is the route I took on a previous walk I took last year where I first encountered this strange grouping of rocks. This time was a bit different as there wasn't the same amount of foliage growing around them. It looked as though our grounds crew had done some clearing, so the stones were completely exposed this time. I discovered that they weren't just the odd stones I initially saw that looked like someone had just stuck them there. What I learned this time is that they weren't your average stones. They're grave markers. I was looking at a pet cemetery. "Punkie". "Lil Girl". "Tigger". There were more than half a dozen stones there with pet names and dates chiseled into them. There was one odd stone that didn't match the others. It had a dog bone shaped collar charm glued to it. I didn't examine it closely, so I don't know who was laid to rest there. There was something touching yet creepy about my discovery. I snapped a couple of photos and turned to see I was being watched. A jet black cat sat stone still at the base of a tree next to the mud flat's edge. He didn't seem tense. Didn't coil, ready to dash away as I approached. I made no move to walk up to him. Just kept moving slowly along the top of the bank...about ten feet away. He just watched me. Warily. Was he a relative? Did he have a family member lying at rest among those tiny graves? I decided to talk to him. Just let him know that everything was cool and that I was just passing by. I did decide to take his picture. He flinched a little at the whirring sound the camera makes when I turned it on, but it only lasted a moment. He relaxed again and continued watching me. The first picture I snapped was sans flash. The second was with the flash, and he didn't appear to appreciate that one. He/she shot me a glare and took off toward the building, passing in front of me. I got off one of his departure. They vanished into some bushes.

I had reached the end of the last building before the bit of forest housing Stephen King trail. After snapping the last picture I took of 'Blackie', the camera had let me know the batteries needed to be switched, so I set about doing that. I heard something off to my right. In the reeds. A rustle...then the crunch of small footfalls. Turning my head to scope out what it was, I caught the movement of something relatively small and close to the ground disappearing into the reeds. I could make out the creatures path by the swaying and dancing of the reed tops. The batteries had been refreshed, so I waited with my camera at the ready in hopes of catching whatever it was. Nothing exited the cover of reeds. Then I looked down. Something was moving around at the base of the bank just below a tree root. It was a small fuzzy raccoon. It noticed me about the time I noticed it, and it raised up on it's hind legs regarding me with a wary curiosity. We stood there looking back at one another for a minute. Then I remembered I had a camera with me, and seized the moment. I slowly moved in a bit closer to get a better shot. Surprisingly enough the little masked critter didn't bolt. He was coiled like a spring, ready to bound into the cover of reeds at a moments notice, but he stayed put. Even after I flashed off a pic he stayed still. I thanked him and turned and slowly departed. After a few steps I turned and looked back. He was gone.

The bit of forest that houses Stephen King trail isn't of any impressive size. Just big enough to contain some trails that I feel the need to explore. One day. I did notice during yesterday's walk some signs of a fort on the other side of the mud flat down at the end. (The tidal "crick" is a dead end.) It reminded me of my younger years and how my friend's and I would build forts in the forest. I grew up living in apartment complexes for the most part (in Georgia), so there was always ample forest/trails to escape into/down. We'd get pretty creative with our scavenging and building. Anyway, I saw the signs of that fort and thought they might not want an intruder. I had walked into the trees and down the portion of the trail on this side of the flat before, and it stops at a creek. It appears to continue on the other side, but I had visions of water moccasins or other types of slimy poisonous swamp inhabitants lurking around...made me think better of it. I may get brave one day and take that plunge, but will at least save it for when I have a companion to go with me. As for why I call it "Stephen King" trail, there are two reasons: 1) it's dim and creepy; 2) named it after another dim and creepy trail from my college day's. As I passed the opening to SK trail, I could hear male voices in unintelligible conversation floating out on a breeze. Seems the owner's of the fort were meeting.

Next to the SK trail forest is the land of the feral cat. It mainly consists of a huge area covered by weeds and vines that create a canopy for the wild felines. I've ranted about them before, and know that if I talk about them too much another rant will surface...I'll strive to make this quick. Depending on the time of day, there are either a number of cats hanging around (mainly for the food a couple of old ladies that live here give them...uh oh...prime seed for a rant), or one or two. I would guess that they're 'lookouts'. What are they looking out for? I suspect people and raccoons. On a certain level they seem to have joined forces with the raccoons in the food scavenging department. On a regular basis I would see a whole band of 'coons rooting around in our trash masher with a cat or two standing sentry. Now that the condos have put a new cover on there (I hate it...the door handle has a heavy spring on it, and there isn't any ventilation...every time I open the door to toss my trash in, I get hit in the face with a blast of warm and stinky air), they have no way of getting to the 'goodies'. It appears that this development has prompted the old broads to put out more food, more frequently. I spotted a lot of empty black trays from microwave dinners littering the ground. There were lots of those, but no sign of cats. As I rounded the corner of the cat kingdom, I spotted a furry form. It didn't budge. I was approaching slowly, but the cat still made no sign of moving. I looked a little closer and saw a green eye watching me (seemingly non-plussed) between some blades of grass. I was glad to see that he had a pulse. Finding a lifeless animal would have sucked the enjoyment out of my walk. Then I thought he might be sick, but as soon as that occurred to me he sat up and seemed full enough of energy. So I took his picture and moved on. After that I headed back in the direction of home, and enjoyed the cool evening. Saw some birds flying overhead (herons, and some sort of predatory bird...Glenn said it was probably an eagle), saw several kids on bikes (which made me want to get the bike I have fixed up for riding), and heard the sound of a jazz band in what could have only been a practice session. Couldn't make out which direction the music was coming from. Whatever they were playing it was a bit rough, but they sounded like there was some talent involved.

When I got back home I felt...relaxed, but infused with the energy of autumn. Other fans of the season will know what I mean. It wasn't really a long walk, but I experienced the first day of October on it's natural turf. I do love this time of year...

Guess I'll get to dinner now. Smothered pork chops and potatoes au-gratin.

Back to Music City...

I'll be venturing north to Nashville this coming week. Picking up load two of some furniture and other items from my mother's condo. Initially, we were going to rent a trailer, but decided that we should be able to get everything with Glenn's truck. It'll take some creative packing, but I'm good at that. If there are some stragglers (a few boxes) they'll just have to wait until I go back up for trip three to get the car.

My mom had started giving away some of her things. Gradually. My feeling is that she was gearing up for having to move into a retirement/nursing home of some sort. Because of her Alzheimer's. She said that she wanted to give me her car, so...I'm getting her car. It's a 2000 Audi TT Coupe. Gun metal grey with black leather interior, and silver chrome fixtures. Quite spiffy looking. When I was in Nashville for mom's service, I had an opportunity to drive it. Let's just say that it's not really possible to go for a leisurely drive in the thing. It won't let you. First gear...it wants to 'go'. It flies, and corners magnificently. I just find it interesting that mom bought the thing. I mean, I know why she bought it, but...it just seems like it would be way too much car for her. It is quite manageable for me though. Is it a car I would buy for myself? No. Do I think it's cool, and am I looking forward to having it? Yes. I'm in need of wheels of my own, so I'm very happy to have some on the way. Even if they fly like a bat outta hell. I'll probably have to wait until probate is finished to pick it up, and that's fine with me. Have no inkling of probate procedure, but things like the car and mom's condo have to go through certain procedures. I guess. As I said...no idea about probate procedure. Thanks, mom. I'll take great care of it.

Plan to make the round-trip in about three days. Meaning go up one day; load the truck; drive back the next. Should be completely doable. Not really looking forward to the long drive (about 9 to 10 hours each way), but it really isn't that bad. At least we won't have to worry about dragging a trailer behind us. That would reduce our speed and tack on some more time. I am looking forward to seeing my aunt and uncle again. We'll be crashing at their place. My brother, Mike, and a friend of his will be there, as well. He's renting a trailer and driving down from Maryland. That's a major reason why I'm traveling up for my second trip when I am. Figure it makes the most sense. It'll be good to see Mike, too.

As for the above picture, it has absolutely nothing to do with Nashville. I went for a short walk to the mailbox, and took a detour down by the marsh. Saw a rather large grey heron (at least I think it's a heron...there are a lot of them around here) sitting on top of one of the decaying dock posts I photograph quite a lot.

The Healing Power of Trees...

Today was supposed to be a day where I continued my war on dust and disorder. It's taken quite a bit longer than I would like to get every room in the condo cleaned and pressed, and thus far I haven't seen the light at the end of the tunnel. My thyroid keeps me in a lethargic state for the most part, so I jump on the intermittent periods of energy I do get to knock out some house work. For those who spend a bit of time in your own kitchens, you know the constant battle of the soiled dish. I get things cleaned up and next thing I know they're messy again. It drives me crazy until I get it to the state I want it in again. By the time I'm done, my energy is sapped and the tasks I promised myself I would do that particular day are shoved to the back burner because I'm pooped. There are two rooms I've been wanting to tackle for days (and days) now, but I keep having to pass them over. All I have to say is...argh...

Well, today is Sunday. It was supposed to be spent tackling one of the rooms I keep having to pass over. I was sitting here at the computer checking my e-mail. Glenn was in the living room (where he had been for a few hours at that point) glued to football. Any motivation I thought I was going to muster to get my scheduled job done wasn't...mustering. Heading out for a newspaper run was also on my list, and that's when an alternate day plan came to me. I hadn't gone for one of my drives around the island in awhile, so that's what I decided to do. There are a number of smaller neighborhood streets more central to the island that I hadn't investigated yet. Yeah, that sounded good.

After grabbing a paper and hitting the drive-thru at Mickey-D's for a mocha frappe (my beverage of choice for my drives), I headed to a park I had remembered from previous drives. Had never stopped there before, so the time was ripe. I had made note of it every time I had passed it (which was a bunch by this time) because of the trees. I've always dug trees, and the trees in Savannah are pretty special. Covered with lots of Spanish Moss (which is actually not moss...*see blog entry dated: 5/4/10), and gnarled in a very enchantingly majestic...majestically enchanting...way. (I'm sure you catch my drift...) So I headed around the periphery of the island until I reached my destination.

Whenever I had passed it, I took notice that there were never many (if any) people hanging out. No children climbing on the various jungle gyms or swinging on the swing sets. No picnics being consumed. No teenagers sitting around on picnic tables talking about things they wouldn't even inscribe in their diaries. When I pulled into the dirt lot, there was a group of about a dozen or so people actually consuming food under the roof over the one covered picnic area. Some smaller humans were crawling around on the slides and such. I purposefully pulled to the opposite end of the lot, and turned off the engine. I swapped my sunglasses for my regular ones and looked out the windshield. What a beautiful spot. Huge trees dotted the park, their branches creating an abstract woven canopy overhead that let in enough light to keep things from feeling oppressive. There were quite a few of them, but they were spaced nicely so I could see from one side of the park to the other. However, all around the edge was a jungle of more trees, vines, ferns, and other flora that I couldn't identify. (Note to self: make that trip to the used book store to use some of that trade-in credit to get a book on flora and fauna indigenous to Savannah.) I grab the camera and keys and lock up shop. Time to commune with some nature.



I stepped up to the edging that separated the parking area from the rest of the park. I'm met by an errant breeze that carried the barely audible sound of rustling leaves with it. You know, I don't know what to call the energy of the outdoors here in Savannah, but there is a sense of peace I get. I started snapping pictures of the nearest trees, and slowly made my way around the edge of the park. Don't know how to articulate the feeling of calm that was descending, but it was incredibly noticeable to me. So much so, that it made me pause to consider that.

I've been living with a lot of stress for a long time now. In some ways I've gotten used to it, as sad as that sounds. It has heightened quite a bit in the last number of months, mainly because it's about to be alleviated. That sounds silly, huh? The primary source of my stress is going to be remedied soon, so that makes me even more stressed? Go figure...maybe it's because of the anticipation factor. I dunno.

Aside from the usual stress points, I'm still processing a lot in regards to my mom. It hasn't been a month since she passed, and I still don't...I still haven't...I'm still processing...

That comes off like such a throwaway..."I'm still processing". It's the truth though. Don't know how I feel because I can't. Every time I feel like I'm going to have the emotional release that's probably coming, I stuff it back down. I've let so much go...so much old stuff, but in some ways I feel like I've gone back in time. I'm not allowing myself to express how I feel. To just plain feel how I feel. It wasn't something that ever mattered before. The way I feel. It feels that I've kind of regressed into that place I was in before. I know that things will happen in their own good time. It will take however long it takes for me to 'process' things. A major factor in it is that I wasn't ready for this. Who ever is, right? Since I got the news, my mind has felt like I've been on a speeding merry-go-round. My brain is swirling with...everything. I don't know how long it will take for the merry-go-round to stop, and for my brain to spin into focus. I guess, how ever long it takes.



I needed that park today. I needed that peace. That calm. The trees were there. Beautiful and green. The spirit healing whispers of their leaves and branches drifting lazily on the breath of the day. It was warm, but not unbearably. We had some rain yesterday, so the brown pine needles and leaves covering the ground were spongy under my feet. Every now and again I would hear the rustling of a forest critter moving around. As I continued around the park's edge, I came across the occasional mesh seated park bench. Looking across to the other side I could see picnic tables and posted grills positioned here and there. None of the aforementioned appeared to be maintained regularly. Not to say that things were in great disrepair. It just didn't seem that many people came there. For me, it just added to the mood of the place. It also meant that this newly discovered mental refuge wasn't frequented by a lot of people. That's okay. Obviously, not many people knew of the magic of this place.



I'm going to plug in here that I did have a slight hiccup to my time at the park. I got off a couple of shots and the camera started to beep at me...the memory card was full. Had meant to purge what was on there before I got started, but...ended up going home. My excursion felt a tad anticlimactic, so I changed my shoes, spritzed on some OFF (the mosquitoes here really suck...no pun intended...okay, maybe a little), and headed back. My return trip is pretty much where this entry starts. Moving right along...

In a way, time seemed to stand still while I was quietly soaking in the serenity. For the first time in...I can't say, my mind was open. Free. Quiet. By the time I left that park, I felt more centered than I have in quite awhile. In a way, I think I received some subconscious answers to questions I didn't consciously ask, and in ways I can't explain. Was it subliminal messages in the whisperings of the trees? The rhythms of Mother Earth transmitted up through roots and out through leaf and branch? Or was it just information that's been floating around in the recesses of my mind that found it's way out of the dark?

Before I get too deep...or seriously metaphysical...I'm going to end by saying that I did really need that visit to the park today. Whatever my mental transition was and whatever it was that influenced the change, I feel so much better.

They're BAAAAaaaaaaaack......

It's been roughly four months since my last sighting. This vehicle was a tad smaller than the last, and the confederate bikinis were now displayed on a single plastic torso instead of the two headless manikin bodies strapped to the front grill of the last truck. Not as many versions of the 'Stars & Bars' could be displayed, so it didn't have quite the same grandeur that the last display had. Still, they had a couple of 'winners'...one with Hank Williams, Jr's mug in the middle (I couldn't make out the writing encircling his head...expect it's something that would make any redneck proud); another with the word "REDNECK" scrawled across it...well, just take a gander at the picture. They're all there for you to see for yourself. Can't be sure, but that looks like a big fish on one...giving a redneck nod to bass fishermen everywhere. I, of course, didn't get close enough to view all of the wares they were selling. After all, I was the chick creeping around in a truck snapping pictures...maybe they'd think I was competition? Don't think they'd act too kindly if they felt someone might be trying to horn in on their business. In addition to the prominently displayed bikinis and flags, I'm pretty sure they would have a variety of shirts, lighters, and belt buckles. Items for the discerning redneck. Gotta love the south...

I expect they'll be back again since the gift giving holidays are just around the corner. Maybe next time I'll venture over for a peek...and some close-up shots...