A unit to call my own

I finally got in that damned storage unit.

CB and I moved all my things in to a different unit, what I've been wanting for over a year that I've tried to get my family to help me with- especially the ones who also have stuff in there. 

 But that's a whole 'nother rant.

CB and I did it alone, by grace and mercy of God.  You know what I love about the God that I love?  He's the kind of guy that has to use unexpected people here on earth as footwork for his good will.  For instance, CB and I thought we could move my stuff in to a unit right beside the original one, E46.  I just assumed that one would be open and waiting for me like I've been waiting for it.  But no, they were all full, supposedly.  The owner rode me through the spaces in his Corvette and it just so happened that one was open...in row B.  How the hell were two people supposed to move a hoarder's worth of stuff into a unit that was three rows away with just a two-door Ford Focus and a Jeep Liberty?

It reminds me of that story in one of the Anne Lamott books about the guy and the Eskimo.  It's something to the effect of:  Two men were talking, one was telling how he was stuck on this mountain for days, maybe in a blizzard, and kept asking God for help.  "Did he help you?" the other man asked.  "No, some damn Eskimo ended up coming along and got me off the mountain."

Turns out that the owner of the storage units was Heaven sent and not only did he let us borrow a dolly, he let us borrow a giant Uhaul for the entire time it took us to get it done.  The Uhaul had come from California and someone scraffitied on the side of it, "Love is" but the rest of the sentence had been wiped off.

"I think you need to quit putting it in writing"

In a bubble of friends there are those that nod, listen, and agree.  And then there are those that are just as, if not more, opinionated than you are and tell you like it is.  But with good humor.

Having lunch with Benable is always enlightening, like free therapy sometimes.  When we talk about certain things, especially relationships, I end up accidentally saying things that I don't filter before they come out and-Eureka!- I didn't realize that's how I really felt about them.  It makes me feel very grown up and mature when I'm sitting Indian style in a booth having these revelations.

Benable claims my mindset for blogging is, "Let me tell you everything I know about life since I don't have anything better to do."  Which, of course, it is.  And that he isn't going to read it because, he "gets enough of it in real life."

It's cute how he acts like he's not interested in my melodrama and theories.

Running down Table Rock

CB and I had a fantastic weekend.  On Saturday we trekked 7.2 miles on Table Rock.  The hike up felt like hell at times, my legs are used to walking on flat concrete.  The incline had my right leg freaking out over the change and spazzing every time I was still.  But coming down was wonderful.  We ran down the mountain when the path was mostly clear.  It was the most exhilarating feeling, going so fast and instantly having to strategize your footsteps.

 There are several scenic views once you get to the top so we were confused which view was "the view" that we were supposed to see.  This led us further and further up.

CB resting at the actual top.  It was divine.

We asked one man how much farther to the best view and he replied that there wasn't much of a view because of the fog.

We ended up at the lodge for "Bluegrass on the Mountain".  I think we were both expecting something worthy of Old Crow or Iron Horse but instead found a group of elderly citizens picking on guitars.  One man played, what looked like, the first harmonica ever invented.  It was cute.

The instagram shot.  Looks like Ireland with the color enhancement.

Reading rainbow

In middle school, a summer reading list was given every year.  If I remember correctly, you were supposed to read a couple books and then write a report on at least one.  I don't think anyone actually took up the paper that you wrote but it was made to be a very big deal, as if you were not accepted in to the 6th grade if you didn't do it. 

When it was mentioned among my friends, I complained and grumbled about it along with everyone else.  Secretly, I was so excited when I was given the list;  I adored reading and writing (as was noted in my last post).  I still have a few of the books and they truly did make an impact on me at that time.  One was about this girl who lived in a trailer with her parents and they kept having a God awful amount of kids that she had to help raise.  She fell in love with this guy with a weird P name like Percy or Parsal, and I don't remember if she saw him as a way out or if she thought she'd end up with the same life as her mother.  Either way, it was a good book at the time because it was all about choices and growing up and becoming a woman.  Relevant reading for a 13 year old girl.

Earlier this summer I posted about my summer reading goal.  Since then, a few books have not made the cut and got substituted for something better.  I've read Sex God, Traveling Mercies,  and On the Road, a few from the original list.  I hate to give up on a book or a movie because I have hope that it will redeem itself.  But I could not bring myself to finish Brideshead Revisited, Jesus Wants to Save Christians, or Daybook.  Brideshead was so thick with English dialogue that it just got cloudy and muddied for me.  I'm a simple person, I like simple sentences.  Jesus Wants read like a textbook.  And Daybook was over my head artsy fartsy.  While it was heavily about being a mother and Anne Truitt's normal day to day routine, it also talked about her seeing herself as an artist.  Some of it I found brilliant but overall I couldn't deal with what was going on with her and had to put it down.  (Maybe because of what's going on with my own self as an artist?)  It's kind of like watching a movie and imagining yourself as the lead actress: if you can't see yourself being the heroine or the damsel in distress that gets saved by Leonardo DiCaprio, you might as well quit while you're ahead.

I'm sure they are wonderful books but they did not interest me.  Maybe I'll pick them up another time when my mind isn't so busy.

There are a couple books left and, as I'm sure you mathematicians- or smartasses-out there noticed, I haven't been able to read a book every week like I'd hoped to.  However, I've swapped a couple books in place of the ones that I didn't finish.  Such as The Picture of Dorian Grey, Operating Instructions, and Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith.  I have fallen in love with Anne Lamott completely.  I've soaked her up and breathed her in for a week.  Don't you hate when you've read all of your favorite authors' books and there are no more out yet? 

So that's the latest with the reading list.  As for another list, my sculpture count is up to 6.  I'm adding to my embroidery/people+things/tangible attachment series and hoping to have them exhibited at a local restaurant in November.

Musical adventures

This summer has been a good one for concerts.  Earlier this summer CB and I double-dated with these "old folks" to go see Counting Crows. 

A not-so-close view of Adam Duritz on piano.  The first time I saw them in concert was my freshman year of college at Winthrop.  My high school best friends bought second row tickets at the concert in Charlotte for my birthday.  It was one of the best concerts I've ever been to.  They played with Goo Goo Dolls and it was incredible.  I thought there was some irony in the fact that my uber religious, straight laced friend at the time bought tickets to a show that passed the peace pipe as soon as they sound checked.  Nevertheless, we all had a good time and got on the giant screen a few times when they scanned the crowd.  And John Rzeznik winked at me and I came unglued.

Last Friday night I traveled with mama and the aunts to see Lynyrd Skynyrd and The Allman Brothers.  Another not-so-great photo of Lynyrd Skynyrd opening:

I've always liked their music but never owned any albums.  But I've got to say, they put on a great show.  I'm sorry to say that they outshined the Allman Brothers.  Musically, they were spot on.  They also interacted with the crowd, which I appreciate since I spend about $30 on tickets, $12 for a pint, and $40 for a tshirt.  Priorities though, right?

The Allman Brothers will always be one of my favorite bands but I was a bit disappointed in their show.  They played wonderfully (a little longwinded but, hey, that's a jam band for you) but for it to have been pouring down and as much money was spent on seeing them, I expected a little more.  A "Thanks for sticking it out in the rain for us!" would have been great. But I've chalked it up to the fact the Gregg Allman seems to be a quiet guy when he isn't singing.  And Derek Trucks?  Well, I've seen him twice and never saw his mouth move. (I'm not complaining; I still think he is amazing.) 

They did a beautiful version of "Into the Mystic" which melted my heart and sort of made up for any bad feelings I had about the show overall. 

Mama and the Aunts. 

 These are the kind of pictures I get on my phone when the Aunt who can barely check her voicemail uses a smart phone.

Anytime I've gone to a concert or on a trip with Mama and the Aunts, adventure and a crazy experience is sure to ensue.  For instance, here's a girl that was sitting on our row when I came back from the bathroom.  Her name was Alli and, apparently, her boyfriend was being a tool and talking to her like a dog.  So Mama turns around and tells her, "No ma'am, you aren't putting up with that!  Come up here and have a good time with us."  So she did and a good time was had by all.

A few days home

Last week I spent a few days in S town.  I had forgotten that that was the week workers starting gutting mama's house, so I shared the king size bed with mama at meme's. 

Here's a picture what-was our old porch:

 

Mama Cat and Kitty Kate cat are still hanging out while men tear the house apart.  They're going to rip this porch too so I hope they find somewhere cool to stay in the meantime.  This is Kitty Kate (apparently she/he is also known as Peanut and some other name). 

 

I spent Thursday cleaning out my two closets. Enough junk come out to fill the bedroom and living room.  I pride myself on being able to throw things away that I consider junk.  I only save things that are sentimental and everything else goes in to the "donate" box or trashcan.  However, it took several hours to clean out my closets because I kept finding old stuff.  For instance, here's a picture of Mama and I wearing the same outfit when we were in first grade.  She kept it all those years and I still remember being so angry that I had to wear it.  Needless to say, I think it's adorable now and I'm sure one day my kid will be wearing it as well. 
 (Check out those bangs, eat your heart out Zoey Deschenel.)

 

Remember Benable, from the annual Lunch and Treat dates?  Here he is our tenth grade year of high school.  He left after this to go to Math and Science Governor's School.  And he has always been running for something.  It's no wonder that now he is in law school.

 

Hanson tape.  Hanson was my first real, crazed obsession when it came to music.  No, my second; I've wanted to be Gwen Stefani since I was in 5th or 6th grade.

 

Among the other things I found that I hadn't seen in quite a while were:

• My college degree, which I'm pretty sure I lost the week I graduated college.  (Now I imagine that one day it will hang in my office beside my MFA degree.)
• The aerobie (frisbee) that I look for every time I pack for the beach.
• All of my cat's balls that he hid/lost when he stayed with mama.
• Sketchbooks and paintings gallore, starting from elementary age.  The oldest one is a painting on a whiteboard of Tim McGraw.  I wish I had a picture of it.  Do you realize how hard it is to draw, much less paint, a cowboy hat??
• Books, books, books, and more books.
• About 5 or 6 journals.  I've had the best time reading through them.  I laughed until I cried one night when I read, "The most stressful thing in my life right now is Mrs. Carey (7th grade teacher), she never shuts up!"  I remember Mrs. Carey being tall, with hands that were always stretched out, and wide nostrils.  She did talk a lot but she was sweet.  If she was all there ever was to be stressful about then I'd say I was okay.   

One journal was full of words with their definitions.  Apparently when I read something and I didn't know a word, I'd look it up and write it down to use later.  I guess in front of an English teacher or some other adult to make myself sound smart.  What a nerd.

I don't remember myself being as boy crazy as I seemed to have been.  Every boy I loved (for a week at a time) was "sooo fine" and wonderful.  I don't think I actually talked to most of the boys I was in love with.  Other than boys, I wrote about my friends, the things I wanted to be when I grew up (a writer), how much I loved/was aggravated by my family, what I thought about God, sketches of people, how my friends and I wanted to start a band, how hard math was, etc.  Aside from wanting to be a writer, I'm not so sure that I don't write about the same things in my journal now.

In a way, reading the things that I wrote made my proud of myself.  It made me feel proud that, although I wouldn't say I've made it yet, I am heading toward something good and I've always set the bar high for myself.  This has caused me anxiety in the past but now it has led me to believe that even if I think I'm getting off of the trail I'm on, I'm really not.  It's all meant to be the way it is so if I think I'm falling behind or falling short, it's all part of the process.  Even if I screw everything up, I'm still where I'm supposed to be.

Z the diva:

And lastly, I spent some time with the Picklesymer, pictured above.  While we were watching the Olympics, she claimed she wanted to be a swimmer, a jumproper, a rockstar, and a cow at Halloween.  In her mind, all those things are absolutely possible.  And why shouldn't they be?