Wednesday, September 29. 2004
Miles' dad left for home today. Visits are always too short I guess.
Now, perhaps, my waistline will recede again without his constant "coaxing"—"You're GOING to eat that Apple Cobbler À La Mode, or You're GOING to walk home!" Erm...Yes, I believe that's how it played out. Exactly like that. Big Bully!
Aside from his desserting aggression, we had a wonderful time! Indeed, I think he and I have learned a lot about each other this visit...most notably on the subject of blue cheese.
No doubt many of you are flabbergasted that such a detail should remain concealed for so long—I take all the blame! Not being the most accomplished of conversationalists, I simply did not think to ask.
Fear Not! Though there is opposition on the cheese front, you will all be relieved to learn that our un-love for olives is quite mutual.
Yay! I get to stay in the family!
Tuesday, September 28. 2004
Last night we went out to McDaniel Farms Creamery & Restaurant. I can't be certain if it was the large silo outside the building or the Holsteins painted on the windows…but it sang strongly of home, sweet, Midwestern home. I gluttonously ordered apple cobbler à la mode for dessert…but we won't talk about that, now will we?
Saturday, September 25. 2004
My romantic-fool of a husband bought me a new toothbrush yesterday!
And not just ANY toothbrush: A CREST SPINBRUSH !
I am certain that it was his own adorable way of saying, I'm sorry that I got you so sick and Your breath stinks. What a charmer! Careful girls, he's taken!
Actually, it was love at first sight: this toothbrush gleams with happy promise! I find myself consuming untold amounts of chocolate just so I have to brush my teeth!
I think it's love.
My mom and Aunt Brenda have these gorgeous WHITE smiles…we're talking ethereal, stunning, "wow those are pretty teeth" white. Me? I enjoy the coffee a little too much…
With a little therapy, my teeth might just survive the habit yet.
Friday, September 24. 2004
Our joyful saga begins just 9 days ago, with Miles complaining of an upset stomach. Headache too. "Great," I thought.
This is not to say that I was not concerned for the lad. I was, and fussed over him too—but more than anything I know that Miles possesses a germ factory for a body. He contracts these illnesses in cute, mild forms—but then distributes a highly mutated and ugly form. Charming, no? That's m'boy!
Bacteria-Boy strikes again!
Miles spent Thursday afternoon playing golf, tonight he's bowling, and Saturday he's supposed to play sax all afternoon; he is seriously shirking his nursing duties.
Saturday, September 18. 2004
We had a minor, itty bitty, insignificant, tiny, very little, minute taste of Ivan last night when the winds and rain decided to mercilessly kill our power.
At the time it happened, just after 7:00, we were in the bedroom—Miles was napping and I was reading. The moment it transpired, he jackknifed into a sitting position and manically started complaining that it was too hot, too still, blah blah blah. After that round of blubbering, he began to whine that there was nothing to do and that he was bored: this, from the boy napping during the prime have-fun hours of a Friday night. Meanwhile, I marked my place in the book, and settled down for a little rest and reflection.
I guess, unlike Miles, my nervous system isn't hot wired to electricity. I actually enjoy blackouts. I like the quiet, I like knowing that there isn't a bit of work I could be doing at that very moment .
Anyway, I dozed off and on for about an hour, Miles moaning his dissatisfaction with the situation intermittently. I awoke to the phone ringing and the electric company telling us that the estimated time for restoration was 11:00. Unwilling to deal with a pestering Miles for several more hours, I agreed to accompany him to the Cinema Grill to see I, Robot….AGAIN. It IS a good movie, but twice in 5 days is a little much.
We returned to a house-enlightened.
I "aged" a few pictures taken from our Honeymoon (July 2003) in Charleston, SC. I acquired a frame set that will house them...unlike my beloved mother, I buy frames with the purpose of filling them. Quirky, I know.
Saturday, September 11. 2004
Well I've done a whole lotta nothing today!—and, shortly, I'll be on my way to do more of the same!
Yesterday passed in a blur. Last evening, Miles had an engagement to play with a band at an outdoor affair. He, weary from the demanding workweek, and I, not of the mind to spend a Friday night alone, spent most of the day eager for rain. Alas, it came and showered us all with reason enough not to venture out of doors.
Obstinacy plied us with coffee and kept us from pursuing an early night. I began my day today sometime after 11—true, I projected flames of seeming wakefulness before 9, but they were quickly extinguished as I caught sight of the yet unmade bed in passing.
Wednesday, September 8. 2004
I had a sort of out-of-the-blue thought today. I am sure all of you are acquainted with, on some level or another, the distinctive Southern drawl. It is a dialect of dawdling proportions to say the least. Can you imagine a Southerner in the role of Mary Poppins???? Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious might have made the record books as the word with the most screen time, clocking in at just over 4 hours.
That being said, I do find the sprawling syllables rather charming, particularly when the speaker happens to remember proper English. I can only wish that my generous dialogues were to blame on leisurely speech—but no, I happen to be the pack-rat of conversation, padding every word with at least 5 others to beat the point dead.
Monday, September 6. 2004
Yoga—I need to resume my regular practice. There was a time that I practiced every morning and every evening, and I knew sheer bliss. The fast-moving world tends to deride the yogi belief of the mind-body connection…such a shame. You must trust me that it isn't good to have your mind and body acting independently from one another…they have a higher resale value as a group package.
As it is, our society is riddled with incongruities such as the emergence of appetite—we should know not appetite, but only hunger. Appetite is the want while hunger is the need. Please have faith when I say that our internal systems never truly want their fuel supply in the form of a Twinkie…that's your mind screwing with ya.
So…why this subject? Why now? Well it just so happens that I read an article today: Why Yoga Works When Diets Often Fail. Yoga isn't a celebrated high-calorie burner, however it does succeed in validating the model lose weight without trying! claim of our dreams. Learn to listen to your body…it's smarter than your mind, no joke.
Anyone still with me? You think it's tough to read me when I get off on a tangent?—poor Miles has to hear it…and constantly! I assure you that my tangents last longer than a few sparse paragraphs. Indeed, days later, I might still be infused with the same theme.
He's a casualty of my mind, but I'm ok with that—at least he's kept informed. He recently admitted, quite begrudgingly, that although he doesn't really listen to anything I say, he does hear it.
Can anyone tell me: was there a compliment in there somewhere? His delivery made it sound as though it were meant to be taken as such…but I'm just not finding it.
Sunday, September 5. 2004
The phone rang early this morning. Well, early in relative terms—it being a Sunday and all. While its shrill cry failed to penetrate my wall of slumber, I awoke to Miles stumbling from the bed in an effort to slay the ringing beast.
I overheard snippets of conversation involving the weather—Clue #1: It was definitely a Midwesterner. That narrows the field by... not much at all. Most of our telephone calls happen to arrive from America's Heartland.
My second clue, the early hour, all but locked in the caller's identity. However, I was fuzzy-minded from sleep and unwilling to invest serious effort into thought—by God the coffeemaker wasn't even on yet!
Then...THEN!...Miles said the caller's name....Roger. NO! Maybe Miles knew of another Roger other than my father! I assumed that was the case. No, I hoped that was the case, for otherwise I would soon be summoned from my nice, warm bed to the stark cold of the phone.
Finally, the definitive moment arrived, and I knew, dejectedly, the caller to be him: "Sure, Roger! I'll get her for you, hold on!" "Hi Dad!"
He's really a very loveable man, and I do enjoy our calls...heartily so, in fact; I do hope I wasn't overly short with him. I've not been known to be a morning person, and I cannot seem to recall the conversation. Once, during college, he called my dorm room at 5 or 6 in the morning!—my best friend Sarah and I were alarmed, thinking that there must certainly be an emergency for someone to call so early…
But, no.
The poor, dear man—he really should know by now that if he plans on catching me before coffee, he's got a coin-flip's chance at my disposition.
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 "Charleston, July 2003")
 "The Governor's House Inn")
 "The Gibbes Museum of Art")
 "Lighting Charleston")
