The New Orleans Wedding

Well, I'm finally gonna post some pictures and make some comments about my number 1 nephew's [sorry, 'phews, remember the Christmas present he got me?] wedding.

Chapman and Margaret got married at the end of March.

[I'm late. I know. Embarrassingly late.}

New Orleans.

Undiscovered country.

At least for us. :-)

We drove to NoLa [a new acronym  for me]  or is it NOLA? because we could. :-)

We rented a house on Tchoupitoulas Street that apparently was the hospital, truck, and car windows rolled down and thumping music playing route. At first, the location seemed jarring [coming from our cul-de-sac, quiet world], but after a while, we grew used to the noise of city streets. It took us the whole time we were there to learn to pronounce the name of that street even though locals and my nephew Stephen, who said "the GPS lady said it like this," corrected us over and over. How do I know the GPS lady is right?

BTW: You know why the GPS voice is female? I do.

Spacious, clean, and inviting, the rental lined up like the row house it was with my siblings' and their family's rentals -- we literally were all in a row and in and out of each other's houses for the three night stay that we had. Rather communal and friendly living like that, we were amazed at the neighbors who said hello and at one point invited us to a pig roast.

The beautiful Audobon Park was a mile away, and we walked its tree lined, duck and bird filled pathways on more than one occasion. It's quite breath-taking with its huge trees, splashing waterfowl, and impressive, stately, magnificent houses with spectacular gardens and stone work.

The groom hosted the rehearsal dinner there on Friday afternoon, a crawfish boil, that excited the local guests and made believers out of some of the "visitors." I ate tacos myself, because well, I don't do crawfish. :-) Also on the menu, grilled sausage, corn on the cob, and other sides to complement the fare.

For dessert -- an ice cream that makes you wanna slap your momma. Famous in NOLA, the Creole Creamery served up heaping mounds of the delightful dessert in flavors of  king cake and sea salt caramel. Totally amazing. Indescribable, it's so good.

We had a roaring good time as people ate, watched passer-byers, the 'phews played some yard games --- and my feet hurt in my stupid, not for the park, sandals.

:-)

 Brother Hunter loads up supplies for rehearsal party at the park.

Paul carries the Boom Box, a staple at every party.

  

A few phews and their pretties head out for the festivities.

 Bocce Ball, anyone? Is that Latin?

 Sister Margaret, I, and Hunter pose, while Hunter holds his gargantuan Creole Creamery dessert.

 Other side of family -- Aunt Donna, Cousin Phyllis, Nora, and the groom, Chapman, holding dessert. Not kidding about the cold "hit" it was...

 

Bridget, Angie, and Kayla  

 

 Bride Margaret taste some of the sausage. Unknown wanna-be in photo leans in...
 
 There they are!

 David curbs his enthusiasm.

 Some kind of technology involving Smart Phones, Instagrams, hash tags, and photos from the party magically appeared on this elaborate television screen set up. 

Cool, but beyond me. Phew Bryan did it along with the groom.

 Speaking of -- Chapman, Nora, and Bryan

 

Glenn and Bridget

 Chapman's hilarious t-shirt

(he's known for his amusing choices of t-shirts ]
His bride, who bought it,  called it a "Public Service Announcement."

 Nora and her favorite aunt :-)

the cousins, bride and groom in center, gather for the much detested photo opportunity

[note to them: some day, you'll thank us]

Next up. Wedding Day.

:-)

Unsupervised Men and Other Excuses

Two months since I posted last, and all I can say is --- I've been busy with ---

1. Kitchen renovation -- If you watch HGTV about renovations, it's all true except that there are no people involved similar to or as accommodating as the Property Brothers. There is crying, frustration, and men to be supervised, micromanaged, cleaned up after, and waited on -- cuz they are either tardy or don't show up or wait days in between. Meanwhile, you are eating peanut butter sandwiches, Wendy's, or take out. The worst -- cereal in paper bowls -- ugh!!!

I'll update you on all of that later -- I'm a hair's breath from victory. TYL

 Packing David's lunch during renovation on my handy, dandy Rubbermaid table, full of what I thought I would need. I was wrong.

2. Nephew's wedding in New Orleans -- great fun, but I'm still searching for a decent photo of me. Until I find that, I'm not posting. JK. Sort of -- I'll update that soon as well.

Jazz Fest, some year, the newlyweds

3. Family History Project with my Sister --- yes, we've been gathering, she's been scanning photos and documents, and I've been typing text for a scrapbook [yes, I said scrapbook -- we bought them ten years ago in anticipation of this project, and we can't let them go to waste -- the digital generation will have to learn to turn pages physically again. I'm sure there are exercises or You Tube videos. Of course, this just means if they ended up caring. No matter -- my sister and I have had fun].

 Aunt Harriett and Aunt Eleanor, 1940, photo taken at World's Fair in New York City

4. Tallulah -- who had needed extensive discipline and therapy after the renovation. She no likey unsupervised men with tools, noise, things out of place, unsupervised men with paint brushes, trash, doors to the outside open and closed doors to her inside, did I say unsupervised men in general?

after therapy

5. Spring

I'll be back.

A shout out to a fellow, blogging friend who sent me a note to tell me I had been missed  - visit her at Simply Darlene.

"In a tumultuous privacy of [an ice] storm..."

Early this morning, the ice dabbed at the dogwood,

and the bird man weathered the icy deck to fill his feeders,

and, [yes, he has on shorts], add hot water to the baths.

"My birds," he said.

The ice decorated the red maple

and fringed the hook for the hummingbird feeder.

The cardinals knew how beautiful they look as they hovered about the deck

and competed with the artifice of the ice.

*snickers*

The ice clung to the Japanese maple.

  Tallulah peered at me, the deck watcher.

Then, she came 

to see this happy fellow at his feast.

The ice storm cometh.

The cat leaveth.

Turn up the heat, will ya? My paws are cold.

Five Lights From Home

On Tuesday my day started as usual except for the “not walking.” For the last weeks, the weather here in the South has been cold, and even though I have bundled up and made some walks, when the temperature falls into the 20s and even lower with wind chill, I conclude, “Eh, I don't have to. I don't wanna.”

So, I don't.

In the early stages of a kitchen renovation, [not time for that story now], I had asked my sister early Tuesday morning to ride with me to look at two slabs of granite that David and I had narrowed down as choices for our counter tops.

At 10:00 am, my sister called and said, “It's snowing. Do you still want to go?” I, a veteran of “burn” stories on snow predictions from teaching school and wishing for a snow day, thought, “if it comes,[rolling my eyes a little], most weather reports indicated it would be 'this afternoon.'” We're used to hyped up local weather as news ---- and most of us take it with a grain of salt. No pun intended.

We headed to Kennesaw, about ten miles northeast of home.

As the snow fell outside Atlanta Stoneworks, the granite place, my sister and I took our time evaluating the two pieces of granite. We chatted up the owners, a family business, and found them charming and hilarious. As we got in the car around 11:15 to come back, she said, “Are you still meeting Celia for lunch? I wouldn't. It's getting bad out here.”

I called Celia, who was already at the restaurant, and I said, “I'm game if you are.” We chose to proceed with our lunch date. We always have trouble finding a time to get together.

After all, it couldn't be that bad – it was coming “this afternoon”; I had plenty of time.

Meanwhile, it continued to snow.

I left for the restaurant, which is located about nine miles from my house, and had a great lunch and visit with Celia. We talked books, family, books, friends in common, Downton Abbey, and books.

At 12:30, David called me on my cell and said, “I'm leaving work. How much longer for you?”

I said, “I'll leave in a few minutes.”

Thirty minutes later, I left the restaurant. I had taken a potty break since, you know, it might take me a little longer to get home.

It was snowing.

I cavalierly wished the restaurant staff a parting “I hope you get home soon” as I confidently walked to my car, looked at it covered in snow, and then saw the traffic on the main thoroughfare in front of me already jammed up. I called David, who was still sitting in traffic near our house [he works about five miles from home], and said, “I'm heading home.” He told me to stick to the main roads, and that he would see me soon.

My car windows were covered in snow and a kind of icy slush, and as I backed out, I couldn't see that well. I cranked up the max defroster on turbo and pulled from the parking lot. I took a right on a lightly congested road, but as I headed south and home, traffic began to thicken.

Snow continued to fall, and as if someone had yelled “Fire,” cars began to enter the main roads of my route home. I drove about one mile – and then – the gridlock became real.

In my car on a side road near Barrett Parkway, I sat and inched forward, and I waited. Waited. Waited. Waited. Waited. On the car's digital clock, it turned from 1:45 to 2:15 to 2:45.

Meanwhile, David called. It had taken him 45 minutes to get home, and he had heard the news and knew that road conditions and traffic had turned bad quickly.

“Where are you?”

Me: I'm trying to get on Barrett Parkway. It's stacked up. I mean like I've never seen it.

David: Just stay the course. Listen to the radio.

I rarely turn on the radio, but I did – I turned to our local News station WSB and began to hear the horror stories of Atlanta's snowy, traffic mess. Their advice “stay where you are.” I was in my car in front of a car dealership. Didn't seem like a “stay where you are” kind of place. Holiday Inn. No. Testosterone. More cars. Yes.  So, I stayed exactly where I was. 

In my car. On the road.

I was still fifteen cars from turning onto Barrett Parkway, and Barrett Parkway was a parking lot.

The Southern courtesy and politeness of allowing people to pull out from a business in front of you, or with their blinker flashing in front of you to change lanes, or even leave space for a person who needed to turn left into the opposite directions was still intact.

Everyone wanted to get home. We were all in the same situation.

My sister reminded me I had my camera -- I took this picture after five o'clock and on my fourth hour.

At 3:00, I made a right onto Barrett Parkway and began what would be another six and a half hour trip to get home.

Every fifteen minutes, David, worried and frantic, called me to check on me. He couldn't believe it when I told him that I hadn't moved since he called last. As the hours passed and I moved at the rate of a mile an hour, I told him the landmarks I saw. I'm in front of the Wells Fargo. Carrabba's. Car Max. The church.

I set small goals:

I'll be home at 6.

Only fifteen more light changes, and I'll cross this intersection.

If I can just get to the next light.

Five lights from home.

I'll be home at 7. 8. 9. Please 9.

The situation was in God's hands. David and friends of mine prayed for me. I had plenty of gas. My body went into Survivor Mode – I didn't have to go to the bathroom. I wasn't hungry. I wasn't scared. No one slid around me. My car was warm. The time passed. The people in the cars around me were all on good behavior. David kept telling me that he would walk to meet me. Enveloped in love and prayer, I felt strong – and knew that everyone in the cars around me was suffering in the same way. Misery loves company, and I had it. :-)

 This is Barrett Parkway near Old 41. 

Also near 0ld 41- I'm about three miles from home.

At one point, this guy pulled up next to me. 

I was like, really? Snakes?

Don't slide into me, Satan.

 I should have taken pictures of this early on to show how slowly we moved.

 5:40 PM, Trip counter 44.9.

 6:30 PM, Trip counter 45.3.

 8:36 PM, 47.6 trip counter

After this shot, I was over it. LOL.

We kept inching forward.

I knew that it was a time thing. I would eventually make it home.

At one point, the traffic didn't move for almost an hour. A tractor trailer had gotten stuck on a small incline, and a car had stalled in a lane beside it. The mass of cars in the three lanes eventually figured out how to get around it.

We crept on.

When I finally turned into my subdivision at 9:25 PM, my car made it almost to my house. We live on a hill, and I gassed it to make it, but it didn't. David came out to meet me, and we moved the car to the bottom of the hill. Others in my neighborhood who lived near me had left their cars too parked in all kinds of ways on the incline.

I thank God for my safe return.

Today, the neighbors met with shovels on that hill in our “hood “ and together we scraped away the ice and snow so that the abandoned cars could be moved to the safety of garages and driveways. A sense of community and camaraderie reigned.

We each had our travel stories of how long it took to get home, and even though mine was one of the longest for some reason, we couldn't top the stories that have been all over the news of people who spent the night on the side of the road, had been on the road for 17 hours, or walked miles in flip flops, or delivered a baby on the side of I-285.

My nephew Andrew, who just took a job with 911, asked my sister after hearing my story: “What on Earth was Aunt Harriett doing out in this mess? She's retired.”

Good question, Andrew.

And, none of your beeswax. :-)

ETA: My friend Margaret Kirkland sent me this ...
 

Time Flies, and Fruit Flies Like a Banana

Who has time to blog? Not I. I've been busy with it all.

What is it?

I have no clue, but I've been doing stuff.

Christmas came and went.

 I took no photos because we all look the same except for Lukas! the grand phew, who is a little past the age of one. He is bi-lingual, crawls like a dervish, and opens any unattended cabinet in a sixty mile radius. 

I actually don't know why I didn't take photos -- it's probably because others have better cameras -- Bryan, my brother Hunter, and I was too busy being entertaining. Except not.

We did the usual -- ate, played games, ate some more, worked puzzles,  and stared at our, hand- held electronics.

FTR: I don't really have a hand-held electronic. I stared though.

The puzzling level met insanity as they completed five puzzles in five days. 

Manic times!!!!!

 .

We [they] had mad games of  Bootlegger, Telephone Pictionary, Quiddler, and Quirkle. We [I?] about busted a gut playing Telephone Pictionary because my brother Kenneth can't draw, and he made the clue of Petticoat Junction look like "when worlds collide." It's also hard if one is "culturally illiterate" as I was with  "Furbie." I was like -- what is a Furbie? I still don't know what it is, and I refuse to file it in my very full hard drive of a brain.

I wish I had saved some of those drawings; they were hilarious.

My nephew James drew a mean Iron Curtain btw. :-)

We had our photo made, minus brother-in-law Ralph, and the number of twenty- two seems kind of daunting. Every time we get together, I think of how proud my parents would be to know that we have kept this tradition alive for over sixty years. 

 the cousins with the "others"

 the whole clan -- and the Fab Four

Little 'phew at the bottom...

While hanging out during Andrew and Kayla's wedding in September, my nephew Glenn, the Georgia Tech student, almost grad [May 2014], came up with this clever but crazy numbering system for the family .

 We [someone -- Angie and Kayla] came up with the idea of a t-shirt  and -- "Welcome to the Family -- please take a number"  became the mantra.

{at least it's polite}

I'm number four, btw.

Now it's the middle of January.

Egads.

Time flies, and fruit flies like a banana.

ETA: My sister and I have taken on this huge project. We [she really] are in the process of scanning all of the family photos. The collection belonged mainly to my mother's family, her parents and sisters, but also included those taken by my parents ....

We have some cool old ones --

My maternal grandparents, Will and Mima [Jemima], back row left;

 bottom left -- Aunt Eleanor, Aunt Ava, and unknown suitor.

circa 1938

Margaret, Mother, Sally, Kenneth, and me, circa 1984.

My sister and I obviously in competition for biggest hair.

 I won. Bwha.

Good blogs to come -- I've got picture material.

Oh, and my nephew Chapman? He had my name for Christmas, and he took my blogs from the last six years that are about my family and made them into a book. It was such a sweet gift, and he spent so much time laying it out and getting it perfectly done. Love him for that!!!!

 That's all I got.

Looking East 7:38 AM

 

That's all.

It's that time of year ..

for Tallulah to toss the reindeer from the mantel.

 

David and I arranged the decorations for Christmas on Sunday, and Tallulah lurked with her usual suspicious self as she eyed the tree, the mantle, and the wreaths with disdain.

 

 

 

. 

 

Then, when the mantle is complete, she hops to it -- because she can,

 

finds the loathsome, red reindeer with 1999 on its left antler, and

 

 

then waits.

 

Monday morning --- 1999 red reindeer lies four hoofs up on the dining room floor.

 

 

Yes, it's officially Christmas.

 

:-)