I Like Her Version Better

Fiona is on a reading spree lately.  She is loving it, and last night, she was bursting with pride as she read "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" to her sister.

*Something You Should Know First*

[Both Fiona and Neve have spent the majority of their lives looking through certain books that they've narrated themselves.  Until now, they'd flip through these books making up their own stories to the illustrations that sat in their laps.  

I'm afraid that with the advent of Fiona's literacy, there has been some disappointment in, say, Eric Carle's version of "The Caterpillar Who Ate Too Much" ("The Very Hungry Little Caterpillar), among others.]

Fiona and Neve, shoulder to shoulder, the cardboard book resting on their touching legs.  Fiona read each word articulately, in all of her over-annunciated glory, while Neve whispered revisions in her ear.

*Something Else You Should Know- Neve has the cutest lisp in all the land.*

Fiona:  "He... star-ted to look for... some... food."

Neve: "One apple, two pearths, three plumths, four thstrawberries..."

Fiona:  "On... Sat-ur-day... he ate through... one pi-ece of... choc-o-late cake..."

Neve, interrupts, "an iceth cream, a pickle, thsome cheethse, thsome meat for a thsandwich, a lollipop, pie, hot dog, oooh! a muffin!, and a red melon.  Yup, he'th gunna be thsick."

Fiona: "...and one nice green leaf.  And... af-ter that... he felt much... bet-ter."

Fiona, continued reading: "...He was a BIG...FAT... CATERPILLAR!"

Neve, excited: "And then he made a big POOOOOP!"

Fiona: "Wait, Neve... it says it's not a poop.  It's a... cocoon!"

Neve: "Noooo.  He ate too much food.  And he made a big poop."

Fiona: "No, Neve.  Actually (Fiona's favorite word these days), it says here, 'He built... a small house... called... a cocoon..."

Neve: "Oh.  And then he turned into a butterfly?"

Fiona, laughing: "It's not like they have to poop before they turn into a butterfly!  Right, Mom?  Just a cocoon, right?"

Southern Summers For The Non-Fancy

Setting: sitting in living room, reading a book together on the couch.

Fiona: "Mom?"

Me: "Hmm?"

Fiona: clapped the air,
"If we were fancy, we wouldn't have mosquitoes in our house."

Me: slapped her thigh, mosquito guts now on my hand,
"If we were fancy, you wouldn't be eating BBQ potato chips in your underwear."

We both nod and smile in agreement.

I'm Not Even Kidding

Once upon a time, there was spry young puppy named Gus who chased birds and squirrels for fun, took running lunges into lakes in the promise that he could return whatever ball, stick, or frisbee that was thrown farther than the eye could see, and loyally protected the family that sacrificed all to rescue him (and his purebred papers) from the pet store in the mall for my brother's 10th birthday.

He was a good dog, and he still is.  Why am I talking about him in the past tense if he's still alive, you ask? Because he gave up his country living to move to a gated community where he's become old and lumpy and achy and blind and deaf and has a hard time getting to the bathroom in time.  He wears velour jumpsuits and eats dinner at Golden Corral at 4:30.

Once upon a time, there was a spry young man named Scott who lived in a house that he built with his bare hands.  It was made of logs, and it housed his family who he loved very much.  There was a garden that gave them food, and his wife sewed the family's clothes (that her ungrateful tweenage daughter secretly changed out of and into Z. Cavaricci jeans in the school bathroom before homeroom).  He had a dog that embodied the Man's Best Friend thing.  They lived in a veritable Disney Movie of sorts, and this made the young man happy.

He was a good man, and he still is.  Why am I talking about him in the past tense if he's still alive, you ask?  Because he gave up his country living to move to a gated community where... well, he is doing just fine.  He's not old (yet).  He's not lumpy, achy, blind, deaf, and incontinent as far as I know, although we avoid such talk when we're together.  And unlike his aging dog, he hasn't taken to active adult attire or early bird specials.  Yet.

Last week, Gus (in all his lumpy arthritic glory) came face-to-face with a mama deer and her baby.  (Apparently, those gates don't keep the deer riffraff out.)  My father watched as the mother grew protective of her baby, and advanced in Gus' direction.  Just as my father made his way to the scene of the crime, the mama was already in the midst of stomping Gus with all 4 hooves.  (I picture the poor blind dog squinting and confused, thinking, "when did I get so old that a deer could kick my a**?".)

Well, you've heard the saying, "you can take the man out of the country, but you can't take the country out of the man?"  Yeah, that saying meant nothing until...

MY DAD PUNCHED A DEER IN THE FACE.

That's right.  You read correctly.  And spread the word to your deer friends.  You don't mess with Scott's best friend.

(p.s. Gus is recovering and doing fine, give or take a moan or two.)

Bitter Sweet

Today we celebrated our fathers, living and passed.  I spent the day with my husband, my father, my grandfather, and my uncle (and all their lovely wives), over lunch, dessert, and coffee.  I felt so lucky to have all these wonderful men eating sandwiches in my living room.

A week ago, while we were in Jacksonville, Terry spread his father's ashes into the same waters he used to travel in his Bayliner.  In 2002, Ricky (Dad) passed unexpectedly, and we've since waited for the perfect opportunity to have a proper memorial.  For no other reason than just "why not now?", we decided on our last visit to meet Terry's sweet brother and sister at the jetties and just do it.  Casual and heartfelt, the way Ricky would have wanted it.

Terry's dad was amazing.  He had a passion for aviation and flew privately for many years.  He was a successful entrepreneur for most of his life.  He spent the majority of his life with my mother-in-law, who he loved very much until the end.  He was a great dad- tender, funny, and so loving of his three kids.  And each child has inherited unmistakable traits of his.  As I stood behind Jordan, Adrian, and Terrence on the beach, I could see Ricky's physical appearance exhibited differently in each of them.  It was kind of amusing actually.

Adrian has her father's muscular legs (less hair and far more lovely than his, of course),

while Jordan was handed down his father's upper body, particularly his arms and hands (just like I remember them looking when we hugged for the first time),

and Terry with his father's eyes, facial expressions, and distinct sense of humor.

We made a mix of Buddy Holly songs (one of his dad's favorites), looked at old pictures of him, and ate peanut M&M's in his honor.

I know this day is hard for all who've lost their fathers, and my husband is no exception.  Although he says he thinks about him daily, there is something special about the dedication of one day to reflect on all the happy times they had.  And there were many.

Toddler Terry, Lani, and Ricky, Christmas '77.

Ricky in his kitchen couture, during what Lani called his "Frito Bandito phase".

Ricky, still in the kitchen, with unidentifiable man in oven gloves.

Ricky holds Terry (in shorts I had hoped to get him for Father's Day in his current size) at the zoo, '81.

Cummer Museum Gardens*

*Disregard Fiona's pre-tween emo-ness.  She's happy and lovable, I swear.  She was just having an off night.  As you can see, Grandma makes it all better.  Although, the photo of her sizing up the fountain sculpture is pretty funny.

Mermaids, Jellyfish Rescuers, Castle Builders

Cracker Barrel is for US!

Casablanca was driving to Jacksonville, FL a few days ago.  Because we are late to anywhere and everywhere every time, we didn't leave our house until 7:30.  It's a 6 hour drive for the average person, and it's a 7 hour drive for the pokey White's.  And no one has napped.  

7:45

Neve & Fiona: "We're hungry!"

7:50

Neve & Fiona are fast asleep.

8:30

We are entering Macon, GA, and me and Terry are now hungry as well.

Terry: "Isn't there a Five Guys off one of these exits?"

9:30

We are obviously way past Macon, we did not see an exit with a Five Guys, and we are now in the portion of the drive called The Hell That Is Middle Georgia.

Me: "Check your fancy phone for some yelp suggestions.  I'm seriously hungry, and the girls are going to wake up from their 'nap' and be really really hungry.  I don't want to deal with that in the middle of nowhere."

Terry:  "Looks like this place in Perry called "Langston House" got 5 stars and has only 2 dollar signs... everyone writes it's the best home cooking they've ever eaten."

Me:  "Fantastic.  Let's go."

9:50

Terry: "Ok, take this exit and take a left at the light."

Me: "Terry, the only thing off the exit is the Georgia State Agrirama and Fairgrounds.  And even that's closed."

Terry: "Well, GPS is saying take a left here, so let's just do it."

Me: "Does GPS know that the sign says 'Bovine, Swine, and Fowl This Way'?  It doesn't look like much is going on here."

10:00

Security Officer In Entrance of Bovine, Swine, and Fowl Exhibition: "No, ma'am.  There ain't no restaurant on the fairgrounds.  But, sounds like you're lookin' for some Cracker Barrel type food."

Me: "Or whatever.  We'll take whatever."

S.O.I.E.B.S.F.E.: "Go on down to the light and take a right onto the interstate and go down 2 exits and then you'll see a Cracker Barrel down there."

Me:  "Thanks."

We pull away. 

Terry:  "I'd never eat at another Cracker Barrel and be ok with it.  I'm going to look on yelp for something else."

Neve & Fiona wake up.

We're beginning to catch on to the fact that the GPS is not working in ???, GA because bovine, swine, and fowl are not 3G yet.  Our "current location" is bouncing around the GPS map like crazy.  Big Brother (aka. the iphone) doesn't even know where we are.

10:10

Terry, steadfast: "Looks like there's a place off this exit called 'Yoders' that has great ratings.  It's a... pizza place?  It's about 8 miles away."

Me:  "Weird.  I can't picture a pizza place around here.  But whatevs.  Let's go before the kids meltdown."

10:30

MELTDOWN

Me: {grumble, grumble}

Terry: "So, the GPS says it should... be... riiiiight... here."

Crickets, crickets, more crickets.  A fox darts across the street.  Bugs are hitting our windshield at such speeds that it sounds like shrapnel on D-Day.  There is not even a structure or driveway of a Yoders past.  

Terry:  "Hmmm, well.  Yup, this thing isn't working.  Now it says that Yoders is a Mennonite restaurant.  And it's now like 45 miles away.  Weird!"

Me:  "GAH! WHY ARE YOU A CRACKER BARREL ELITIST!?  AND WHY WOULD YOU THINK THAT ANYONE WITH THE NAME YODER WOULD MAKE PIZZA IN SOUTH GEORGIA!?"

Terry: "I'm sorry.  Let's go back to the Cracker Barrel.  For you."

Me: "Cracker Barrel is not for me!  It's for us!  Cracker Barrel is what's best for the family.  I'm doing it for THE FAMILY!  Also, I'm not going anywhere that's away from Jacksonville.  I'm only driving TOWARDS Jacksonville."

silence until 10:45

Fiona: "Mommy?  Are you still mad?  Or are you just cranky?"

Me:  "Oh, honey.  I'm sorry for yelling.  I'm a little cranky from being hungry.  You guys must be really really hungry, huh?"

I reach my arm back into the backseat to gently pet her leg.

10:45:05

Sirens and bright blue flashing lights in the rear view mirror.

Me:  "Oh no.  What did I do!?  I wasn't speeding.  Was I?  Crap... is the new registration sticker on our plate?!"

Neve & Fiona: "Are you going to jail, Mommy?"

Terry, holding Banjo in the passenger seat: "Tell me you have your license on you!  Wait, didn't it break in half when it went through the dryer a while ago?"

Me, pulling out the 1/2 broken license from her purse: "Terry, put your window down- he's at your window!"

Terry rolls down the window, and the officer points his flashlight in the front seat.

Officer:  "Hey, ya'll.  Hey, puppy.  How you doin'?"

Me:  "Good.  Was I speeding, sir?"

Officer:  "No, ma'am.  I pulled you over tonight because I saw you cross over the white lines and it looked like someone mighta' been drinkin'.  You been drinkin', or are you just tired?"

Me:  "Neither actually.  I can't believe I'm being pulled over for drinking and I'm bone dry.  I'm so sorry!"

Officer:  "Where ya'll headed?"

Terry: "Jacksonville.  I bet when she reached back to touch our daughter she might have swerved a bit.  It's late, they're hungry, you know..."

Officer: "It's alright.  I just work in public safety.  Doin' my job.  You know where exit 101 is?  There's some good food there."

Terry: "A Cracker Barrel?"

Me:  "Or anything.  We'll take anything."

Officer:  "Yeah, but you better get there quick, 'cause everything closes at 11:00.  Also, you know you can get a new license, right?"

Me, thinking: "I'm so glad my kids didn't have to see me walk the line."

10:50

We drive away.

Me: "HICCUP!  What a nice guy."

10:50:06

Me: "HICCUP!"

Terry:  "Well, I sure am glad you didn't do that when we got pulled over."

Me: "HICCUP!  I think it's because I was so nervous back there."

Terry:  "Ha!  You drive like you're drunk even when you're not!"

Fiona: "What does drunk mean?"

Me: "HICCUP!"

10:57

Exit 101 ahead.  We pass the infamous Cracker Barrel and hit a Sonic instead.  There are confectionary liquids that make everyone happy.  We are back on the road.

1:00

Neve & Fiona are fast asleep.  Terry is listening to a monotone audiobook.  I am in and out of sleep.  I wake up to the sounds of Terry slapping his face.  I'm afraid to go back to sleep.  We put on happy music.

2:00

We enter Jacksonville city limits.  The girls wake up.  They are now fully refreshed and ready to kiss and hug and talk for hours to a very patient and tired grandma.

5:00

All 10 eyes that make up casablanca (Jacksonville) are finally closed.

Let the vacation begin!