The Big One

Sixteen years ago I got a phone call from my sister. "I was just talking to Howard (a cop friend in Charleston) and he says we're gettin' a hurricane named Hugo that is THE BIG ONE!" she screamed.

"Yeah, right," I yawned as I hung up.

Before that, back in the mid 80s, I lived in an oceanfront apartment at Surfside Beach. The rent was $450/month. It was expensive for me back then, but so cool I worked hard to afford it. Hurricane season was a nightmare. We were always getting dire warnings and alerts, and evacuating, and moving furniture, and then all would be clear. I got sick of it. After awhile, no matter how dire the warnings, we just kept on going. We'd leave, but we'd leave everything else--the photo albums, the pearls from my grandmother, the cross stitch...

Time passed and I was living in the middle of South Carolina when Hugo came through, but I learned to respect hurricanes that week.

My old oceanfront apartment?

well...the only life forms living in it now are named SpongeBob Squarepants.

For it is under the sea.

I hope New Orleans comes through this one...

Money For Nothing And Chicks For Free

This sweet innocent child (Meredith) still, as of today, believes in Santa Claus.

Yes, Dr. Evilla (Madeleine) has apparently decided that the thought of unlimited amounts of homemade cookies on Christmas Eve is too enticing to pass up.

"I can eat ALL the cookies I want?" she inquires in a stage whisper at least three times a day.

"Yep," I reply.

Today another thought occurred to her. "How can you afford all the presents we get?" she asks.

"We save up," I answered.

"Wow...she breathed. Then she climbed on top of me and stage whispered "HOW MUCH MONEY DO YOU HAVE?"

"That's private, grown up stuff," I sweetly replied.

"Mooooooooooooooommmmmmmmmmmm..." she whined. "Come on!"

Unwittingly she tapped into one of my pet peeves. My parents never discussed money with us, and I was always irritated, since I considered myself a very important family member. So I decided to throw her a bone.

"We have TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS," I replied.

She literally clutched her chest and staggered backwards. "Oh my gosh!" she screamed. "You're rich!"

I Have Nursed A Viper To My Bosom

Madeleine (7 next month) now Knows Everything About Life.

Yes, she now knows about...um...that....man in the red suit and all.

So of course we had the Cozy Chat, where I explained to her that we should not deprive her innocent Baby Sister (5 next month) of all the Mystery And Joy of the Most Magical Season, and of course, she cheerfully agreed that it would remain a Deep Dark Secret.

Bookies in Vegas were giving it three days....For Madeleine, as her mother before her, has a sadistic streak that is mildly frightening. (and how long did you keep secrets when you were seven, anyway?)

Well, Dr. Evilla was in a snit today, and they both came thundering in the room where I was cheerfully adding links to my blog.

"I'M GOING TO TELL HER!" she snarked.

"Go ahead," I shrugged. I wasn't about to grovel. It wouldn't work anyway.

She turned to Meredith.

"DADDY IS SANTA CLAUS," she triumphantly proclaimed.

Pause.

(crickets chirping)

Meredith just stared at her. And then she SCREAMED AND SCREAMED WITH LAUGHTER.

It was one of the best moments of my life.

Watching Madeleine's face as she realized that her evil plot to Steal Joy was not going to work.

So..the mopup begins. Meredith later asked me was Santa real and I said nonchalantly "What do you think?" and she replied "Of course he is." And then Dr. Evilla and I had another Cozy Chat and I promised her 1. She could wrap all the Christmas presents 2. She could help me write the Letter To Meredith that Santa always leaves and the most important one of all 3. She could eat as many of Santa's cookies as she can shove into her gaping maw after Innocent Baby Sister toddles off to bed....if Innocent Baby Sister still believes in Santa on December 24, 2005.

I Can't Be Seamlessly Integrated..And It Bodes Ill

Sometimes I can't believe how geeky I really am.

I grew up reading ponderous books, and I'm afraid that I often talk like an Oxford Dictionary.

A few years ago I was discussing Madeleine's unfortunate habit of refusing to be potty trained.

"If she can't get that under control," I mused to Roger, "it bodes ill for her transition into the 3 year old room."

"BODES ILL?," he snorted. "Yes, I guess it does BODE ILL."

The other day Roger returned from football practice. (he is a coach). It was a balmy 110 this day.

"I hope you didn't make your boys run," I commented. "Yep," he replied. It's cut time. We have to see who can take it."

"Well," I said, "I'm surprised, in an increasingly litigious society, that the school will allow y'all to let them run in this heat."

"Litigious society?" he snorted again. (I'm afraid he snorts a lot). "I'm jes a dumb ol' coach--talk plain, willya."

Thursday I was discussing a new certificate (1 year) program with my dean. "I hope that the requirements can be seamlessly integrated into the 2 year existing program," I said.

She was too polite to snort. She just looked at me.

I'm afraid I'm not seamlessly integrated.

Ghost Stories On A Southern Summer Night

I love the South.

Here's one reason...

Sittin' outside shootin' the breeze on a warm summer night. Tiny lights twinkle in the trees and cold beer is on the picnic table.

A prim and proper lady is telling a story. She lives in a huge old house circa 1870 with columns and a rose garden.

She is wearing pearls and a tastefully preppy outfit. Her hair is frosted and styled in a perfect flip.

She is a banker.

"One night afta we moved in," she begins, "Joe was out doin' somethin' and I woke up and there was a ghost at the end of mah bed."

We lean in to hear the story. A cigarette is lit. This is tobacco country, we don't lynch smokers.

"What did he look like?" I breathe.

"Well," she continues, "he was dressed like a Confederate soldier."

"And then"....I urge her.

"Well," she says, "Ah always heard that you're s'posed to say 'In the Name of the Father and Son, leave this house!' So ah did. But he wouldn't leave!

So I said it again. He still wouldn't leave.

So....Ah said 'WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT?' And he vanished."

She gets up to leave, dusts off her Lilly Pulitzer. "Night y'all.....Got early church tomorrow."

The "Son Of Sam" Syndrome

Y'all remember Son of Sam?

Ok, I'm showing my age, but this guy terrorized New York City back in 1977 or so, killing a bunch of innocent people.

His excuse? He was taking orders from a big black dog named Sam.

Well, Madeleine is, I'm afraid, taking orders from an adorable young friend of hers named Darienne.

Darienne and Madeleine are best buddies.

Darienne apparently has almost mystical powers over her young followers.

I first began to suspect the "SOSS" (Son of Sam Syndrome) when Madeleine came home with a carefully preserved lock of Darienne's hair. She labeled it and taped it to a piece of paper.

When I quizzed her about it, she explained that Darienne had distributed locks of her hair to her followers for good luck and to remember her by during those long, lonely evenings without her presence.

Well--OKAY THEN!!!

Two days ago, Madeleine gets into the car and excitedly announces that Darienne has decreed that they will be forming a ROCK BAND. (Somebody watched "School of Rock" over the weekend). The name of the band is "Rock Angels" and Mad will be playing the electric guitar. They will be rehearsing twice a week at Darienne's grandmother's place of business.

Meredith was originally assigned to take tickets, but after hysterical pleading, was promoted to drummer.

Well--OKAY THEN!!

.....The next thing I know, Madeleine comes parading out in a pair of jeans that were drawn with strange symbols. For you see, Darienne had decreed that ROCKERS MUST HAVE DECORATED JEANS.

I was awarded "coolest mom" award today, as Madeleine proudly informed me that all of her friends had drawn on their jeans too, and their moms had all had conniption fits, and I was cool with it. (shrug) They're from last year--old, worn, and too short jeans, so whatever.

Tonight was the last straw! (Wait--there's a joke here! Just wait for it!!!)

Roger just showed me a treasure trove of straws.

Darienne has decreed that all of her friends must save their drink straws for her.