Fair to Middling

When I think of some of the happiest times in my life, many of them focus on either my time in high school or my friends from that time.  My high school experience sure doesn't resemble the ones you see in most movies or read about in books.  If anyone brought a gun to school, used drugs or turned into a She-devil, we didn't know about it. No "Carries" or Vampires.  A few criminals but even they could be sweet.  My time there was happy and I felt good about myself and my choices.  This past weekend I sat and talked with many of the girls who helped to enrich that experience for me. It was a time when half the sentences began with "y'all listen" and ended in an exclamation point. We laughed at ourselves and each other as we shared recipes that began "start with a piece of white bread" and  "top with Ritz crackers".  I heard phases like "then come to find out" and "don't that beat all".  As I listened to these funny, smart and relatively happy Southern women,  I wondered why I was not traumatized by high school or why the memories are not painful or at least confusing.  But these women seemed to feel the way I did about it.  On the way back to Georgia, it came to me.  I realized that the best way to grow up is to be mediocre. I don't mean that in a bad way.  It just seems that life may be easier for you if you fall somewhere in the pack growing up.  If you were the prettiest girl, you had no where to go but down. Every wrinkle, sag and extra pound will be detrimental to your self image.  If you were the ugliest, heck, even if you grow up and get rich and have everything fixed, Bless Your Heart, you may still hear some of those names in your head(or from your mother!).  If you were the smartest, then even if you are the Governor, Chief Justice of the Supreme Court or President of the PTA, either that little voice in your head or some well meaning Christian lady may still be telling you that you failed.   If you were the dumbest, well, dumb breeds dumber and dumber breeds dumbest, but you're probably so dumb you don't even know it.  The sweetest girl in class better have moved on to be with Jesus 'cause even if she was still as sweet as a jug of Luzianne Tea, somebody will find something wrong with her. And no one will believe the biggest Hussy has changed even if she is Head of the Adult Choir at First Baptist.  So, I think if you are pretty enough to get a date to the prom and smart enough to go to college, well, then you have a really good chance of being OK with yourself and your life. I think that's why when I have gone to my Class Reunions, the Most Beautiful, the Homecoming Queen, the Class President or the Valedictorian are no where in sight. Maybe those people are not as happy about how their lives turned out.  Maybe its us, mediocre, in the middle, who end up having the best memories and are not afraid to face each other or the facts of our lives.  If you moved up, nobody is surprised. And if you moved down, well, nobody is surprised ('cept maybe you). So to all my didn't win anything in the yearbook or didn't date the captain of the football team (who after a few years is almost always bald and turning to fat) friends, I say ain't we lucky. And thank you from the bottom of my heart for the memories, years ago and this weekend..

Get Your Hillbilly On!

Sometimes I wake up in the morning and think "Where am I?".  And then I remember.  I live in the mountain of North Georgia.  I live in Jasper, end of the world as we know it, Georgia.  What Jasper lacks in cultural events, nice stores, a movie theater, a warm and friendly downtown with fine dining, a Fresh Market, Target or attractive men, it makes up for in.....well, its got a couple of real mountains in it.  And tons of deer, black bear and wild turkey.  Unlike Alabama where you pass a dead dog on the highway every few miles, here road kill sounds more like the meat menu in some Western Restaurant. We got your bear, deer, possum, hedgehog, groundhog, wild boar, turkey and squirrel. They have plenty of dogs here but most of them are chained up to a tree in the front yard. Recently I have taken to painting hillbillies on tin pieces in my small art booth.  My standard by line is embrace you inner hillbilly.  In a quest to say something funny about Jasper, I have come up with a list of ways to help me tell you about my town.  You know you are in Jasper when: l.Your neighbor has the taxidermist on speed dial. 2. The biggest mall in the county is Wal-Mart. 3. A personalized car tag means you made it yourself. 3. Blue book value of your truck depends on how much gas is in the tank. 4. Most family trees don't have a fork. 5. The directions to everyone's house has "then turn off the paved road". 6. Everyone has two outfits, one for church and camo. 7. The tattoo parlor offers financing on site. 8. The last words most of the guys around here ever yell are "hey, watch this!" 9. We have 8 full time pharmacies and 24 road side signs advertising pain clinics. 10. Raid is considered a condiment on the kitchen table.  And finally the number one thing I have found to be true in Jasper is that when the guys have a stag party, they actually bring a deer.

Oil and Wildflowers, That's Texas

This past week, I spent visiting my sister in Texas.  My ex husband paid for my ticket.  It seems my divorce is so much like my marriage.  I love him, remain faithful to my vows, act nice when I feel like screaming.  He on the other hand, ignores me, sometimes is angry at me, and pays for everything I need.  If you don't count the fact that we haven't spoken in a year and haven't had sex in over three, its my marriage all over again.  I have never really liked Texas.  Too hot and too much wind.  While there it rained though and I thought about turkeys who get so confused that when it rains they stare up at the sky, often drowning.  So it would appear with Texans since they always seem to have a drought.  I did find it amazing that almost every little "ranch" or piece of property from Corpus to San Antonio now has a oil rig on it.  Every day folks are becoming millionaires over night as the sign off the leasing rights to this otherwise almost barren land. These rigs are not on government land, they are on private ranches snuggled in beside the cows, next to old sheds and on patches of hard dirt that have been passed down through generations and where owners smartly kept the mineral rights in tact.  This is the "we're drilling more than ever before" that the President talks about.  It has nothing to do with the government but instead is private enterprise at its best.  When you walk the "ranches", the hard dirt and dryness of Texas, you find yourself lost in the wild flowers that cover the grown.  Here Indian Blanket, Blue Bells, Rubeckia, Corn Flowers and Chickseed grow in abundance. And with the flowers come the butterflies who bounce across the top of the fields like magic dots.  Yellow and white monarchs and black swallowtails, huge gold and brown moths.  A beauty that I will long remember mingled with the loving thoughts of my sister.

Two Rights Make a Wrong

This past weekend I was entertained by three of my dearest, life-long friends.  Susan I have known since I was three, Kitty since elementary school and Maye since high school.  Susan was and is the beauty and cheerleader.  Kitty, always so cute and the funniest, best story-teller ever.  Maye, our former Jr. Miss is still brilliant and a walking dictionary.  Almost yearly we find some way to get together and share a meal and a laugh.  Only with people you love dearly and who love you could you talk about Tourrets, Jesus, Weight Watchers, Fried Chicken, a French Restaurant, high school boyfriends, divorce, politics and farming before breakfast.  If you can talk politics and religion with three a little over middle-age women who have not had coffee, you know you are with your peeps.  The problem with being with your peeps in the hen house is that there was so much clucking going on I found it hard to concentrate.  I drove and felt like I was losing my mind half the time. By Saturday I noticed often we had to hold up our hand up to get a word in. We talked in circles and up and down and back and forth. By Sunday the stress had taken a toll.  Everyone was tired and needed a nap.  In the afternoon I got completely loss driving roads I knew well. Someone packed and took home my toothbrush. One of us couldn't find our cell phone and I left mine and had to drive back to Marietta to get it. I blamed age, lack of sleep, emotional exhaustion, early on set dementia, medication and stupidity.  The truth is my head was over whelmed and my ears were worn out. I had loved every minute but I was so glad to get home and in my bed. This morning after a good night's sleep, I took out the box of cute shoes that all of us had bought at Belks on sale and low and behold, I had two right shoes.  Maybe it is the dementia thing.