Nope, can't go that way.

January, Monday the 23rd, the Birmingham area had been hit with ten early morning tornadoes. Once I woke up enough to find out a tornado had been through our son’s area, I contacted him to see what I could do. Come get the frozen food, he said, if we could get through. We looked at the damage in his area on TV and drove over, making a couple of detours. I took pictures. He decided to send frozen food, and Kate to help with it. Gwen and Catherine could stay and help drag branches to the street. I gave Gwen my blue suede gloves, which she said made the job easier. They had no power, so later that evening, Justin dropped off Catherine and Gwen. I cooked a HH Italian Cheese Noodle, ground beef and onion and canned tomato dish that everyone loved. (I love one-dish meals.)

Lines down, power out, people working in their yard.

Gwen slept in the blue room… she also helped me unfold the cot that Kate was going to sleep on. Catherine had the guest bedroom and Kate bunked in with her.

Tuesday:  Kate’s school had no electricity, so she stayed home. We took Gwen to school, using the Interstate to the Deerfoot Parkway Exit. Deerfoot Parkway had been opened, downed trees sawed through, but traffic was often delayed by heavy equipment and clean up crews. We could see the terrible destruction. The school was not marking anyone Tardy.

Can you see the crunched white car?

We dropped Gwen off at 7:58; then we went grocery shopping (mostly for soft drinks and Little Debbie snacks), rested for a while, me with my laptop and Catherine with her embroidery. Catherine had picked out kitty cat transfers from my stash, and a pillowcase, and I had ironed them on. She now has a project to work on whenever she visits my house!

Trees down parallel to the house.

Realizing how early I was going to have to leave to pick up Gwen for her dermatologist appointment and how long appointments can last, I started supper at 1 PM.

Step 1: brown the short ribs and stew meat, saute onions and garlic, add too much chicken broth, two beef bullion cubes, a bay leaf and a can of diced tomatoes, and leave it to simmer until we get home, which will be about 5 o’clock.

We left shortly after 1 to pick up Gwen from school. It was more difficult, with longer waits in backed-up traffic, to get through the areas with the worst damage.  We made it to the doctor’s office on time.  He said Gwen’s skin problem was a common one, and gave her a couple of shots of steroids in her scalp, which should help with the itching. She also got Rx for samples of a cream and a pill for acne, which isn’t that bad and is not what we really went for. We’ll see if the steriods help.

I called Jerry to go in the kitchen and check the water level in the stewpot… I was so afraid supper would burn up while I was gone, but he said it was bubbling in the middle and there was plenty of water. We finally got home and I got to:

Step 2: Add two cups of (thawed) frozen soup vegetables, a little Basil, and 1/3 cup of Soup Noodles, bring back to a boil, let simmer for 10 or 15 minutes, get out the Whole Grain bread and call it Supper. Everyone seemed to like it and had seconds.  For dessert we had chocolate, heart shaped, Little Debbie cakes.

We had washed one load of dark clothes and one of light, in various corners of the day when we had a few minutes available. The girls folded and distributed the clothes to their owners.

I snuggled into my side of Grandaddy’s bed, with enough drugs in me so I wouldn’t thrash around. So endeth the Longest Day.

Wednesday was a busy day. The phone would ring just as one person left to announce the imminent arrival of another. We think, trying to remember all the comings and goings, that Jerry had one therapist (who came while I was taking the children to school and Catherine home) and two nurses: one who comes weekly to check his vitals and the other who evaluates his progress.

I had a firm appointment with Susan, my massage therapist, for 1 PM. The only open space was in the blue room, so we set up there and closed the hall door. Jerry received his visitors in the living room. The nurses consult, read, and then write in his White Folder.

It was still fairly early when everyone had come and gone, and Jerry was worried that his truck had sat up for so long. He had started it once, driven in the alley, turned it around and backed into his parking place; then it wouldn’t start again.

I pulled my car up so he could attach the cables; the truck started right up. He took it out for a spin. I hoped he had remembered to take his cell phone, just in case. In a little while, my cell rang. It was Jerry on his Jitterbug reporting he had driven out Highway 11, and was now parked at the gas station, Raceway, but he didn’t need any gas. The truck was fine and he would be home shortly. And he was.

It had been a long and busy day. Jerry and I polished off the remains of the Short Rib Beef Stew and were revived.

The power was back on at our son’s house and he came over a little later to pick up the frozen food. At first they wondered where the coolers were they had sent it over in. Jerry told them of Kate’s Brilliant Idea: Why unpack the coolers, only to have to pack them up again? Why not just set the coolers in the freezer? Granddaddy was all for it. He was already worn out from taking the paint cans out of the freezer. One cooler wouldn’t fit and the contents were stuck into the chest type freezer wherever they would fit.

You know, my memories of Monday and Tuesday run together, they were so busy. I’m not used (anymore) to getting up at 6, making sure the children had breakfast, and taking them to school. In fact, I never did drive MY children to school. I was Old School and thought they should walk to school like I did. Writing this down has helped me get it sorted out:

Gwen's long hair, braided.

.We had errands and shopping, picking up Rx, putting away Xmas decor, and taking donations to the Salvation Army.  Gwen brought her Kindle and we downloaded a couple of books that were waiting delivery.  She also brought her computer and I ran Spybot through it and cleaned out a dozen or two pieces of adware and malware.

But things don’t always go according to plan.  First off, Gwen woke up feeling poorly on Friday.  She had not slept well, and her mother insisted she stay home from school that day. This meant that I picked her up about noon with the intention of doing a few chores and maybe errands.  We cooked our favorite meal: chicken thighs (browned), covered with mozzarella and red sauce, baked an hour and served over big pasta.  We got the laundry under control–it was mostly folding and putting away by the point.  But the Xmas decor was a deal-breaker.  She brought all the boxes into the living room, and put away the candles, but that was about as far as she could go.  She needed some pain meds and a good long sleep. That suited me fine.  A job like that needed to be approached when one is fresh.

Saturday we actually got the Xmas decor sorted into Keep and Give Away, with an empty box to break down and throw away.  A sealed box labeled “Big Twinkle Snowflakes” didn’t get a second glance; it went straight into the Give Away pile. Plans were made for next years “Choir of Angels” display.  Gwen took a bulky comforter into the attic, vacuumed the bathroom closet floor, and we put the Keep decor neatly away until next year.  The Give Away was put in the car trunk and away we went to the Salvation Army drop off station.  We pretty much emptied the trunk, but they were out of receipts.  Gwen made a list anyway.   We went looking for someplace to eat and settled on Logans Roadhouse.  My food was great: I had appetizers and dips.  Gwen had fried cheese sticks and then her entree came: fried fish.  She began with great enthusiasm, then slowed down to little lady-like bites. “What’s the matter?” I asked.  She didn’t like to say, but finally I understood that she didn’t feel well… felt ‘queasy’, in fact, so we packed up and left.  I was afraid of food poisoning, or a stomach virus or something like that.  “Please tell me if you’re going to throw up,” I begged, “so I can pull over and you can open the door!”  But it never came to that.  I took her home to go to bed; I still had errands to do.  While trying to explain how to be ready for sudden sickness, she said, “I know what to do.”  Good.  I did errands, and just couldn’t help myself: I got her some sweaters for school.

Sunday we went to church; Rebecca invited us to go to lunch with her and Laura but I declined with regrets, after our abortive attempt at lunch the day before.  We all went to our cars, but I couldn’t GET INTO mine!  Where were the keys? I emptied my purse twice; Gwen checked under the car, in the church at the coffee/tea table; at the pew where we sat, but no keys. Gwen finally spied them on the floor of the front seat.

After turning down her lunch invitation, I had to ask Rebecca for a ride home for the spare keys.  Not really: Rebecca and Laura kindly offered to take me home and bring me back.  (Couldn’t call Jerry for them, as he is not driving yet.) We had a pleasant visit on our forty mile round trip.  Gwen ran in the house for the spare keys, she knows where they live!

Monday was reserved for the beautician. Gwen had mentioned that if we had time, she would like to have her hair trimmed and thinned.  It’s super thick and curly, and tangles easily.  My eye just happened to fall on the thank you card from Locks of Love, a donation of her long hair from several years ago.  “Would you like to do Locks of Love again?”  Her eyes lit up and she broke out into a big grin, “Yes!” she said.  So that’s what we did.  The beautician shaped it well and it is short and curly all over, and as cute as can be.

We came home, made pizza, and then it was time to go visit with Laura and Rebecca on the way to take Gwen home.  Rebecca gave me a reviving glass of red wine, some cheese and crackers and apple slices which set me up for the last lap.  Gwen had collapsed on the sofa.  Is she sick?  She admitted to be queasy again on the to her home.  I do hope she’s all right.  It’s been one Crazy Weekend.

Coxey’s Army was a protest march by unemployed workers from the United States, led by the populist Jacob Coxey. They marched on Washington D.C. in 1894, the second year of a four-year economic depression that was the worst in United States history to that time. Officially named the Army of the Commonweal in Christ, its nickname came from its leader and was more enduring. It was the first significant popular protest march on Washington and the expression “Enough food to feed Coxey’s Army” originates from this march.

Whatever the source of the expression, this recipe used my largest soup pot–well, you rather have to, to melt the kale into it.  Jerry at of it once to be polite, but I’ve been married to him long enough to know that if it didn’t have meat (meat=beef) in it, it didn’t count as a meal.In fact, I caught him, not an hour later, eating a little frozen meal of noodles and meatballs, just for the “meat”!

When my friend Rebecca took me to lunch the other day, on the way home we stopped at Publix so I could get, among other things, some ‘meat’.  I was planning pizza so I got an all purpose fully cooked Polish Sausage.  This is what the left-overs looked like with meat in it: not very appetizing looking, but full of nutrients and very tasty:

While in Publix, I also found they sold ready-made pizza dough in a plastic bag, by the pound!  I was thrilled.  I knew I could slice real thin some of the sausage and Jerry would think it was Pepperoni.  I bought shredded mozzarella and Parmesan, tomatoes, red onion, mushrooms, red bell pepper, etc. for a pizza recipe complete with picture that I had ripped out of a magazine at the doctor’s office.

By the time we had fiished half the soup (where is Coxey’s army when you need it?) I had the pizza dough warming up on the stovetop….stoves are so well insulated these days, they don’t get too hot. This is what the pizza is supposed to look like when I get through with it:

 It appealed to me because I didn’t have to make it Round; it could be any old shape it happened to take after you had pounded on it to your heart’s content.  Mine assumed more or less the shape you see above, but it was Very Elastic and just would not get any bigger.  Maybe I should have let it rise some more, but it’s too late now.  I slid it into a hot oven, bottom shelf for 10 minutes to start the process.

Now here is where I went wrong:  I had chopped, drained, mixed, diced, uncovered and otherwise prepared all the toppings.  With the hot, half-cooked pizza crust at my right hand, I spread the tomato stuff first and then arranged the toppings, being careful to put the “Meat” on one half for Jerry, and the rest of the veggies all over it, followed by two kinds of cheese.  That’s a bigga pizza, I’m telling you.  It went into the oven for another 10 or 12 minutes.  I pulled it out and this is what it looked like:

Why, I wondered, did the picture in the torn out magazine page look more red than mine?  My pizza had all this gooey, yellow cheese on top (which I thought it was supposed to). As a last resort, I read the instructions. Boy, was I surprised. The instructions said to put half the mozzarella on First, under the tomato sauce!  I had never heard of such a thing, but I will certainly do it next time.  I went ahead and cut the thing: the great thing about an odd sized pizza is that you can cut odd-sized slices. It was good. Yum.

]]> http://charlottesretroweb.wordpress.com/2012/01/08/food-for-the-soul-food-for-the-tummy/feed/ 3 33.568597 -86.716486 33.568597 -86.716486 charlotteproctor Image Image DSCN1619 DSCN1620 http://charlottesretroweb.wordpress.com/2012/01/08/reach-out-and-touch-someone/ http://charlottesretroweb.wordpress.com/2012/01/08/reach-out-and-touch-someone/#comments Sun, 08 Jan 2012 05:07:10 +0000 Charlotte http://charlottesretroweb.wordpress.com/?p=1188 Continue reading →]]> I’ve just been round and round with Amazon.com concerning their ‘free’ E-books to Amazon Prime members. I just now, this evening, got around to reading the Review section of the Wall Street Journal found a couple of books that sounded good. I always check to see if they are available on Kindle

“Night Train to Lisbon” by Pascal Mercier was, and I ordered it. This book is supposed to change everyone who reads it, at least according to old and venerable reviewers. It was only 8 bucks and change so I bought it.

The other was one of a detective series that I have never read and when I saw it was Free ($0.00) to Amazon Prime members, I figured ‘What did I have to lose?’ The Kindle price was $5.99, and $5.99 was exactly what I had to lose.
I registered a complaint, with the order number, described my problem and chose to Chat with a member of the support team, who would be with me in about two minutes. I had about decided that there was something wrong with the way I had ordered the book that negated the Amazon Prime offer, but still yet, I wanted to understand and if possible to get my money back.

Sure enough, after a little polite Chat back and forth, I am told that if I ordered it through my Touch, it would have been free.

What??? Do you mean to tell me I can’t order books online, sitting at my desktop? What about my laptop, is it verboten, too? Sadly,that is so. It seems that my Touch is not only an e-reader, a book of many contents, but also a Smart Book.

The upshot of it was that I was going to get my money refunded, and that’s the bottom line.  I just hate to turn on the Wireless and use up the battery searching for and ordering books, but I guess that’s the way the world is going to work nowadays.

December was jam-packed full of activities, both exciting and scary–some at the same time. But we were not alone. After I had a little cough and got over it, Jerry got my little cough and didn’t get over it. By the time he agreed to go to the ER while it was still daylight, he couldn’t walk to the car… not enough air. For the first time in my life I had to call 911, for us.

While visiting Grandma Gladys several years ago, on two separate occasions she slipped to the floor and I had to call 911 to come help her back up into her wheelchair, or bed, as the case may be.

But this was the first time I needed help at home. Well, more than one vehicle responded, lights and sirens announcing to the whole neighborhood that something was going on. They checked him out and heard our story and asked: ‘Do you want us to take him to the ER or do you want us to take him to your car?’

That was a poser. I didn’t know I had a choice, but it just seemed simpler to get him in my car… I know where the ER is, there is no traffic on the way, so I opted for transport to my car. They put him in a desk chair with wheels and rolled him through the house to the back door, across the back porch, one step down to the parking lot and into the car. I don’t know if it was the right decision, but we made it to the hospital in record time, wherein I ran calling for help, a wheelchair for my husband who was having trouble breathing.

It all sounds rather dramatic, but you have to tell the hospital staff what your situation is or they won’t know what you need.

They took over care of Jerry and I went to park the car. There is absolutely NO parking–all the parking is reserved for the Cancer Treatment Center, but none allotted for people like me. I parked where I always do, in the Professional Office Building Parking lot, Level C, or as I think of it in order to remember it: Sea Level.

I trudged and limped and made my way back to Emergency, pausing now and then to call one of the children, or to answer a call. By the time I got back to Jerry, he was comfortably attached to hospital O2 and being given a breathing treatment, which is the same med he receives by nebulizer at home.  He began receiving antibiotics and three kinds of steroids. They said he had a little pneumonia and I don’t remember much after that, except that the out of town son called the in-town son to come to my aid. I have never been as much in need of someone as I was then. It was late, Jerry was stable, so we said good-bye as the nurses wheeled him off to his home away from home for the next few days.

Our in-town, first-born son, Justin, went with me back to the ER where we retrieved Jerry’s middle-sized O2 bottle and his clothes. I waited at the entrance while Son #1 brought his truck around, and gave me a lift to my car parked so far, far away, on Sea Level. I don’t know what I would have done without him.

In a few days, Jerry was all better. I was talking to the doctor who was saying when to come in for a follow-up visit, and all I could think of was Sea Level followed by long hikes to the elevator to the Plaza to another elevator, down another hall. ‘Could we possibly have a wheelchair,’ I asked plaintively. ‘We can do that,’ the doctor answered, scribbling out yet another prescription. ‘I want a Junior size, a small folding one,’ I hastened to add.

While Jerry was hospitalized, my cough came back with a vengeance and quite a lot of mucus, so I took myself off to the doc who said I had Bronchitis. That was a new one for me. I was given an albuteral inhaler and instructions. Albuteral is the same med Jerry uses in his nebulizer, and what they call “Breathing Treatments” in the hospital. So now we were both sick.

I gradually got better, Jerry came home, and I had just settled into our getting-ready-for-Christmas routine — I was embroidering pillowcases for everyone and had to finish, when Jerry comes up and pulls on my sleeve and says, “I can’t pee.”

Well, we’ve been through this before, too, in 2008, in Albuquerque, NM, so we knew what to do. It was a brief (as these things go) visit to the ER for a catheter and an analysis of his precious bodily fluids. The doc confirmed Jerry had an infection and he was sent home with two Rx, each to be taken for 10 days on a strict schedule. This was December 21. Thus began the Longest Ten Days.

About this time, we began to get calls from Visiting Nurses and Physical Therapists, alerting us to their impending visits.

On the 23rd, our youngest son, Forrest, came home for his winter vacation through the New Year, and flew in to help us hold it together. Late on the 24th, he took me to pick up the Christmas Feast that Mr. Publix had prepared. Jerry went to bed early, and *someone* had to wake him up to, first, line his stomach with milk, and then take the strong medicine. Same thing at 7 in the morning, 3 in the afternoon, and 7 at night. It could be food, sometimes it was Jello with whipped cream. Jerry complained he was being fed too much, but the instructions for aftercare said to feed him lots of butter, cream, sour cream, half and half, etc. (WE can’t eat all that, but HE needs the energy it gives him!)

Christmas Eve, my friends Julie and Steve were having an Open House.  Jerry was doing OK, watching the Military Channel.  He said it was all right if we went there.  I thought it would be a 20 minute thing, but so many friends showed up, so much wine (Forrest was driving, I had some wine) and food was served, so much talk and laughter abounded, before I knew it, over two hours had passed.  It was a good break .

Christmas Day arrived and all the children and the two grandchildren came over to enjoy the lunch from Publix and open presents.  Jerry sat in his big red leather chair to survey the scene.  I gave him a Pulse Oximeter for Christmas, and he gave me silk handkerchiefs to embroider.

There was more than enough food to browse and graze on all day long; big manly sandwiches, little crust-less lady sandwiches, fruit and cheese, and little frosted cupcakes for dessert.  Everyone went home, Jerry went to bed and I began cheating on his schedule, waking him at 10:30 for his 11 o’clock medicine.  I wanted to sleep, too.

It finally worked out that Forrest took care of the 7 A.M. dose, and I could sleep in.  On the 31st, we celebrated Jerry’s taking the last of all his Ten Day Antibiotics.

And now it’s the New Year.  Jerry and I are Home Alone again.  We are both well.  The Physical Therapist will be back on Tuesday to see if he has been taking the three 6-minute walks a day that she prescribed.  The Visiting Nurse will be by to see if he is taking his breathing medication regularly, and minding his manners. And the Other Therapist (I’m kinda vague as to what she does) may be back.

I’m glad December is over.

Thank you for your intriguing list. According to my scan through it, there is not a single first time author to be found. Bravo! All of the ones I wanted to read are available on Kindle, which is a real plus, as I have lately been reduced to reading the Sookie Stackhouse series. This is not because of an overwhelming desire to read about vampires, but my granddaughters are caught up in the Twilight craze and I don’t want to seem to be too snooty to read about them, too. I wouldn’t be caught dead reading Twilight. No pun intended. Stephen King said Harry Potter is about facing your fears, finding inner strength and courage to do the right thing; Twilight is about the importance of having a boyfriend.

I don’t know if the previous librarian warned you about me, but the fact of the matter is that I tend to write long, chatty emails about our book lists and exactly how I feel about them. I’ll read anything about Australia because I visited there for a month once in another lifetime. (In a Sunburned Country) That’s one thing I feel strongly about.  Lacking anything better, I have been reading about an Australian detective, Cliff Hardy.

Another thing I feel strongly about (and so does my friend, but she is too well-bred to say so) is a burning desire to never again read a book about Southern ladies, what characters they are, and racial relations in the bad old days. We live here, for crying out loud! We know that already. Sometimes I think, no matter how old we are, how well read, we need to continually broaden our horizons. Nineteenth Century China sounds about right for that. (Snow Flower and the Secret Fan)

See. There I go again, being outspoken. You mustn’t take it personally. I’ll always be odd man out in this group or any group–I lost all my credibility the first time we chose a book: Julie/Julia, the movie, had just come out and everyone loved Meryl Streep, of course, so the majority wanted to read that book.

It was pointed out that the movie was based on two books, both of which I had read, and the group unfortunately chose the one by the New Yorker who used the F word in every sentence. That really put the ladies off, and half (I kid you not) did not finish the book. The membership universally hated the book, not understanding the irony, the relationships, the ethos of Brooklyn, the Bronx and Manhattan, or food snobs. They all hated that I had recommended it.  I don’t get out much anymore,but I do know a lot of New Yorkers in the book trade.  It is really too bad the ladies missed out on Julia Child’s lovely memoir, My Life in France.

Looking forward to the New Year and some interesting reading.

Faithful reader

• Clara and Mr. Tiffany by Susan Vreeland is our January selection.

• Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See is set in Nineteenth Century China. This should broaden our horizons!
• Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout sounds like a farce to me.
• In a Sunburned Country by Bill Bryson, about Australia!
• How it All Began by Penelope Lively, another lively-sounding story.

I don’t know how the other ladies will vote, but these sound interesting to me, each in its own way.

Before we went on our odyssey We wanted our lunch and everyone cooked. The menu was: for Gwen, Ramen Noodle soup; Grandma had a hot dog and potato salad; Grandaddy ate sauerkraut and wieners. We are a family of loners!
We finally left home about the time the parade was due to start. Birmingham’s Veterans’ Day Parade is the oldest (since 1947) and biggest Veterans’ Day parade in the U.S.of A. I figured we had time to catch most of it.

We saw hundreds of people walking towards the parade route, and NO place to park. But I persevered, driving around and round until finally I saw a spot on 1st Avenue North, near 23rd Street. We got our chairs from the trunk of the car, and Gwen carried her heavy jacket. I left my purse in the trunk and took my water bottle, keys and camera. And cell phone in case of emergency. We walked a city block before spotting the festivities over on 2nd and high-tailed it in that direction. We missed the Boy Scouts, a lady told us, LOTS of Boy Scouts!

We plunked our folding chairs down and made ourselves comfortable.  When everyone else is standing, it’s easy to get front row seats.  We watched many JROTC units, and applauded every veteran.  Alabama’s military academies sent their units in sharp dress uniform while the Reservists, National Guard and active units wore more casual desert camouflage.  The Daughters of the American Revolution turned out in force in decorated, but closed, automobiles.

There were many open, decorated “floats”, too, many of them carrying Veterans from the Korean, Vietnam, and more recent conflicts.  They all carried the message of pride in our vets, and pride in our country.

I had told Gwen earlier that although I could see she wasn’t enthusiastic about going to this parade, I thought that she would enjoy it more than eight years ago, mostly because she was eight years older.  She looked doubtful, but sure enough, we hadn’t been watching the passing parade for long when she turned to me and grinned: “You’re right, Grandma, this IS fun.”

Gwen has always been a student of the 40s and the 50s, and she looked for vets of WWII, and other signs of that vintage. So we were both tickled to see that the Rosie the Riveter Association had a float, complete with a woman in a coverall and kerchief on her head: There are not many WWII vets left, and those that were had the place of honor in an automobile or on a float.  My husband served during the Korean Conflict, as they called it in those days, and was stationed in Japan.  I saw a couple of white haired gentlemen vets, walking the whole long way, in their carefully preserved dress uniforms.

Oh, yes, and our Field Trip also had assigned homework: look up “Buffalo Soldiers”.  Wikipedia had a wealth of information that Gwen read and shared with us at the dinner table.

These two aged navel vets were a parade unit unto themselves.  They received a fine round of applause.

And last but not least, the 2011 Veterans’ Day Parade was ended with a group of Clowns on bicycles, followed by a big ol’ firetruck that probably had “The End” on the back of it, but I didn’t stick around to find out.

E

Saturday I wanted to get Kate an MP3 player to listen to music and shut out the noise that is bothering her so much on the school bus. She mustn’t inconvenience her mother and grandmother to take her and pick her up when the bus runs right in front of her house. Silly me, I thought the cheapest and fastest way to accomplish this was to pick up one at Wal-Mart. So I did, but to our dismay, the thing didn’t work. So I packed it and the receipt up to return on Sunday. We had laundry and stuff to do at home.

Actually, I read some of the online fan fiction this young teenager loves so much. I steeled myself to be shocked … her parents are sure the internet in general and fan fiction in particular are inventions of the devil… but I was only bored. The spelling was accurate, which was a big plus when compared to most adult sports talk boards. The story was full of anticipation, but anticipation of just what they weren’t sure. It was a vampire story–they are all the rage now, and I can’t say a thing about that, either, as I am reading Charlaine Harris’ Sookie Stackhouse vampire series. (They are great, set in the South, with characters we know and in-jokes, too.)
Grandma’s Famous Hamburgers and chips were our supper. Grandaddy and I had one each and Kate ate two!
Sunday after breakfast and newspapers, we went out on errands. I returned the defective MP3 player and got my money back, bought a few necessities, and headed out to meet Grandaddy at Academy Sportswear. He needed more long-johns and I remembered that there is a whole wall in front of the store with MP3 players and other accessories for the serious jogger.
Since we had gone out in different vehicles, I pulled out the trusty cell phone and called. That store is a dead zone. Went outside to get a signal, telling the security guard to tell my granddaughter where I was if she turned up: she had run off to look for Grandaddy. We finally got connected. He was in the rear of the store, with Kate. We met at the checkout line.
Next, we had to decide where to eat. I pointed in the general direction of the new Red Lobster and Olive Garden restaurants; Kate could see Red Lobster from where we were. We were mightily impressed. She rode with Grandaddy. The parking lots were full; everybody was out for Sunday dinner.
I parked behind Red Lobster and started dialing for dollars. Found Jerry, talked him back to where I had landed, and he parked
his red truck beside my green car. A short debate ensued, but we really wanted to visit Olive Garden, so Kate will have to wait for her seafood another day.   The service and the food was excellent. The glass of red wine we adults had wasn’t bad, either.
Back at home, Kate took a nap while I read the instructions and plugged in the COBY MP3 player. I transferred all of Kate’s music and charged up the battery.
She listened to her music on the way home, and I hope it will help with the external noise sensitivity that has bothered her so much lately, and make the school bus rides more tolerable.

Here are a few of our favorites:
Back home again, we just had time to freshen up and take off for the high school annex where the picture-taking went off without a hitch. The photographer took pictures of Gwen in the drape for the yearbook, and in a faux fur wrap, looking like the Snow Queen. I’m sure we will get some great pictures to mark this rite of passage.
We had driven home through Five Points South, and the sight of the new Chick Filet restaurant there had made us hungry for chicken. On the way home from picture-taking we had a good lunch at our neighborhood restaurant. On arriving home about 3, I had a three-hour nap.  It had been a good Girls’ Day Out!

  http://www.alabamatheatre.com/ 

One of Gwen’s favorite movies, “The Wizard of Oz”, was showing this afternoon, so we undertook the next step in her cultural enrichment!

http://www.flickr.com/photos/army_arch/3628484235/

Before the movie we rubbernecked and took pictures; everyone else was taking pictures, too. 

From the theater website above: “The large turquoise urn on the grand staircase is one of only 11 built and one of only 6 still in existence today. It was manufactured in 1851 by the Minton Ceramic Company in England.”

Here are some more pictures of the interior:

Alabama Theater.0 VIEW SLIDE SHOW DOWNLOAD ALL

After the movie, we checked out the balconies, and the stars on the Walk of Fame and I took some more pictures:

		Alabama Theater.1 VIEW SLIDE SHOW DOWNLOAD ALL

Gwen told me that her great-grandmother had gone to school with Pat Buttram, so I took her picture with his star on the Walk of Fame. Other stars include, but are not limited to: Truman Capote, Harper Lee, Jim Nabors, Fannie Flagg, Kate Jackson, Tallulah Bankhead, George Lindsay, Wayne Rogers, Nell Carter and Louise Fletcher.

When the Mighty Wurlitzer rose up from the stage, she was suitably impressed.  Intro music before the show was all old movie tunes.  We had a lovely time.