I woke up around 2 a.m. in a panicky sweat. I had just eaten a kitten in a dream, the whole time crying over my plate because it tasted so good but it was so wrong.
I blame the lobster.
In theory, I have no qualms about being a carnivore. Circle of life and all that. But in reality, I’m more conflicted. As I’ve written before, I like meat, but I also feel sympathetic toward my “prey.” I don’t do well with meat that resembles its former self.
Until last weekend, I’d never eaten lobster for this very reason. Not only does the poor guy sitting on your plate look just like he did when he was living, but you have to boil him alive and that just seems cruel. I don’t begrudge someone else a fine lobster feast, but it wasn’t for me.
However, during our Boston trip Dave wanted to try cooking lobster at home. I was feeling adventurous, probably because I have spent the last (almost) five years convincing Camille that it’s important to try new foods. So I endorsed the plan and even went with him to the grocery store.
But things took a turn for the worse at the seafood counter. I couldn’t help but feel a little sad watching the four lobsters get plucked from the tank, placed in bags and dropped into my cart. We pushed them around the store, we piled boxes of baby wipes, graham crackers and macaroni on their heads, and the whole time I’m thinking, “There are four LIVING creatures in your cart! Don’t freak out! Don’t freak out!”
At home they were stuffed in the refrigerator until lunch time, when their misery was finally ended in a pot of boiling water. I was still determined to be a big girl and eat one, but I couldn’t watch them be cooked alive.
Then, there he was. On my plate. Looking at me with his dead eyes. As Lee and Dave began breaking their crustaceans apart, the whole affair took on a tone that more closely resembled a biology dissection than a fancy meal and I realized I would not be able to do it. I didn’t want my lobster to die in vain, so thankfully the boys shared my lobster while I enjoyed the rest of the low country boil.
But the lobster incident has been making me think more about my carnivorous habits, and now that lobster has gotten into my head.
In my dream last night, I was at a restaurant that belonged to a friend – the kind of situation where you have to eat what is cooked and act like you like it so as not to offend. On the menu – fresh kitten. I kid you not. We had to go to the area where all the kittens were playing and pick out which one we wanted to eat. I chose an orange tabby.
When the meal was served I bravely took one bite and it was delicious. But I kept thinking about the kitten and I suddenly couldn’t stop the sobbing.
Then I woke up. I’m glad it was just a dream, but EWW! It has been bothering me all day. I think somehow the lobster that was destined to be mine has found a way to haunt me in his afterlife, planting awful dreams in my head. Karma, I suppose. We did boil him alive. I think I got off pretty easy.
On Mother’s Day, my dear sister-in-law received the best possible gift – a healthy baby. And last weekend we finally had a chance to meet Eli, an adorable bundle of cuddles and coos who couldn’t be any sweeter. We love him so much already.
It was also great to visit with the rest of the family, and Camille loved cousin-time, running around in the grass with Jones or catching raindrops on their tongues. It won’t be long before Eli can join in the fun!
It’s hard to live so far away, but I’m grateful for these opportunities to bridge the distance. The visits are always too short, but we still manage to fit a lot of fun into a few days. Can’t wait to do it again.
When I got the invite to an after-hours Honey Tasting Party at Savannah Bee Company, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I love that store, and any shopping trip downtown usually includes a stop at Savannah Bee to indulge in some of their samples.
But this party was much more than a typical tasting. First of all, I was there with a great group of girl friends and we had the place to ourselves. The employees took turns describing the various honeys for us in great detail and I learned a lot. Like, for example, there is a barge carrying millions of bees floating on the water around Wilmington Island, positioned perfectly to take advantage of the nearby tupelo trees to make the prized tupelo honey.
We sampled each of the honeys (each one was my favorite) and were then served honey-themed appetizers and desserts from local establishments. Hello chocolate filled with orange blossom honey. Nice to meet you.
The finale of the evening was a serving platter featuring raw honeycomb, crackers, fresh apples, cheese and berries. Seriously delicious (and also very sticky).
I was a fan of Savannah Bee Company before. I think I might now be a fanatic.
Happy 58 months, my bear! At this moment you are enjoying one of your favorite activities of the week, your Daddy/Daughter date. You and your Daddy have continued the tradition of Thursday morning breakfasts at Clary’s, the neighborhood restaurant down the street from your school. You love these mornings, and your first words to us on Thursdays are usually, “Happy Daddy Daughter Day!”
You and your Daddy have a good time together, and not just at Clary’s. You two still regularly enjoy putting on impromptu rock shows in our guest bedroom, and you love to tinker with the effects on his pedal board. It changes the sound of his guitar, and you’ll try out a few different buttons but always come back to the loudest, most distorted sound. The one you call “Rock it Out.”
I suppose it’s in your DNA. Your Daddy and I both love live music, particularly rock shows. Many years ago your Dad befriended musician Greg Dulli of The Twilight Singers. The band’s current tour included a stop in Atlanta earlier this month, and we all decided to make the trip up so he could go to the show.
We still have about 14 years before we can take you to a rock show at a club, and by then going to a show with your parents will be, like, totally lame. But your Daddy had the brilliant idea of taking you to sound check. You’d get to see what a rock band is really like, but at 5 in the afternoon instead of 10 at night, and without all the sweaty, drunk people.
In anticipation of the event, your Daddy bought you some noise reduction headphones (it’s too late to save our ears, but not too late to save yours!) and he also let you hear some of their music in advance. He played one of their slower tunes, and you said, “But Dad, this doesn’t really rock.” So he switched to a more up-tempo number and you approved.
We showed up at the Masquerade club just as the band members were heading into their tour bus to eat takeout sushi, and they invited us to come inside. The bus was pretty awesome and Greg gave you a grand tour.
Then we went inside the club for sound check, where you split your time between dancing to the music and trying to climb on furniture and stair rails and such. During the course of our time there, in addition to good music you also heard some colorful language that I hope you promptly forgot. Then as we left you tattled on one of the band members for smoking (he totally looked ashamed, too). Ah, you have much to learn about the world of rock ‘n’ roll, my love, but hopefully many years ahead of you for that education.
That outing was just one in a month full of travel which found us on the road three out of four weekends. I remain
very grateful that you are such a good traveling partner. We spent
Easter weekend in Tennessee with Nana and Granddaddy, hunting eggs in
the neighborhood and getting all dolled up for Sunday church.
The
next weekend we went with Lola, Fletcher and their parents to Hunting
Island for our first tent camping trip of the season. We all had a great
time, but Sunday morning I realized just how much you enjoyed it. You
woke up, picked your head up off your sleeping bag and immediately began
to cry.
“What’s wrong, Camille?” I asked.
“I don’t want to go home today,” you wailed. Enough said.
After our rock show experience in Atlanta, we traveled to Athens to spend the weekend with our Valles buddies, watching Nate play ball and then getting dolled up with your “cousin” Nia. You called her your cousin the other day, and when I informed you we were not related you were shocked and disappointed. Sometimes we are lucky enough to find friends who feel like family, so I said you could call her your cousin if you wanted. And you did.
While we were in Athens, we also had the chance to visit the farm of my former UGA Equestrian Team coach, Kat. My time with that team was very special, and I adored Kat. She taught me so much about horsemanship, and despite the fact that I was such a novice, she always encouraged and believed in me.
You dressed for the occasion in your cowgirl hat and pink boots and were excited about a trip to the farm. You’ve had several pony rides already, but have also lately shown an interest in horse care. Kat was so generous with her time and brought the sweet pony Hollywood (called “Woo” for short) out of his stall to teach you a few basics.
It was a pretty cool feeling watching you learn about the brushes, combs and tools from my former coach. You groomed Woo like a pro, and when it came time to clean his hooves Kat told you what to do and you leaned in and picked up his foot like it was no big deal.
Let me stop there for a minute. As much as I love horses, they still make me nervous sometimes. When I hold that hoof I can’t help but think about how easy it would be for that big animal to knock me in the head with it. And you tend to be so timid about things, never wanting to do something that might cause the slightest injury. But Little Miss, when it comes to horses, you have no fear.
Ever the overprotective Mama, I rushed in to help with the hoof-holding as you cleaned it. Then when it was time to lead Woo through the barn, you wanted to hold the lead rope by yourself. “Mama, I’ve got it,” you said.
Kat saddled him up and let me take you for a walk in the riding ring. Your previous pony rides involved a western saddle and no reins, so this was your first chance to sit in an English seat and learn how to properly wind the reins through your hands. You looked beautiful and completely at ease on Woo’s back. Before the ride was through you asked, “So when do I get a pony of my own?”
Sigh. If only it were so easy! Mama wants one too!
Sweet girl, I’d give you the moon (and a bunch of ponies) if I could. But for now you’ll have to settle for all my love. Thanks for being so generous with yours as well. The other day you were giving me a giant hug and said, “Mama, I wish I could hug you forever.”
Melt my heart. I’d hug you back forever too. I love you.
Saturday we hosted a party at our home for our church’s preschoolers and we had a bounce house. Did it rain in the days leading up to the party? No. Did it rain the day after the party? No. Did it rain the day of the party?
Why, yes. It did. We got in an hour of bouncing before the rain came and forced the party indoors, much to our collective chagrin.
The church party ended right after lunch, but since the bounce house was with us all day we had invited more friends to come bounce in the afternoon. There were periods of sun and rain all day, but as the second party began the skies were still being unkind. But since it wasn’t a major downpour, we decided to “bounce with it,” and piled all the kids AND grown ups inside the bounce house, where it was blissfully dry. And it was actually pretty fun in there.
The skies cleared just in time for the bounce house rental company to come and retrieve their bouncer and break Camille’s heart. She cried like she was losing a beloved friend as they deflated the house and unceremoniously rolled it up and carted it away.
But thankfully, she still had some other beloved friends to play with, to eat popsicles with, and to slide with. A fine ending to a fine day in which we did not let the rain take the “bounce” from our steps.
It’s official. As of today, I have spent more of my life in a relationship with Lee than without him. Seventeen years ago today, on Friday, May 13th when I was 16 years old, he picked me up from a friend’s house and took me to see The Crow at a movie theater in Tifton. It was our first date. He bought our tickets and popcorn. I put my hand on the armrest between us but he didn’t hold it. Not yet. I got a kiss on my forehead as he said good night. He made me a mix tape. He was a perfect gentleman. He still is.
I still have a mental image of the first time we met. I moved to Fitzgerald in the spring of my 10th grade year. My first class of my first day was Spanish with Mrs. Satterfield. I remember meeting my classmates. I remember the handsome boy with the longer, blond hair introducing himself. I still have the image in my head of him turning around and walking away, and I remember thinking I’d like to get to know him better.
But we didn’t start dating immediately. We went to prom together just a month or so later, but not as each others’ date. He was a grade ahead of me, and our paths didn’t often cross.
But my junior year, we both took a creative writing class. The more time I spent around him, the more time I wanted to spend. In that class, all our writing assignments were done on the school’s computers and we used our social security numbers to log in. To this day we still know each others’ social security numbers because we learned them that year, using them to log in to each others’ accounts. We read each others’ poetry and short stories, and I saw a tenderness and a depth in him that I’d not seen before.
That same creative writing class took a field trip to Atlanta, and I remember sitting in the hallway outside our hotel rooms talking with Lee. I haven’t a clue what we talked about, but we talked until the sun came up. It was still several weeks before he asked me out, but by then I think all our friends knew it was inevitable.
We dated for 7 years, 7 great years, but understandably with ups and downs and growing pains. After all, you’re not the same person at 23 that you are at 16, at least you hope not. But thankfully, through all those changes we grew together and we still believed in us. And we’re still changing and growing. And we still believe in us.
After we’d been dating some time, people used to tell me I might be making a mistake. They said being so serious with someone I’d begun dating at 16 would just keep me from experiencing other relationships and learning from other people. I remember telling them at the time, “What if I happened to be one of the lucky ones who got it right at an early age?”
And I was, and still am, one of the lucky ones.
There is a beautiful beach in South Carolina where you’ll find more sand dollars than people and without a single hotel or restaurant to break your view of the coastline – just a long line of dunes and scrubby brush leading to a lighthouse.
The beach is at Hunting Island State Park, and we were lucky enough to camp there last weekend. The weather was just right – warm in the afternoon for a pleasant time at the beach, but cool enough in the evenings for marshmallows (or crafts!) around the campfire.
To top it all off, we got to enjoy this great place with great friends. Camille and her buddies Lola and Fletcher would disappear into a tent or explore the woods nearby while we parents sat around the campfire and … that’s it, just sat. Now that’s a nice treat.
Happy 57 months my treasure (see above), and happy Spring Break! This week is your first ever spring break and we’ve spent the free time heading out to some of our neighboring cities for a few fun adventures.
Monday we went to the Jacksonville Zoo to see, in addition to all the usual animals, the special dinosaur exhibit. You were thrilled with all the robotic dinos and pretended to be our paleontologist tour guide, telling us about each dinosaur before excitedly moving on to the next display.
You brought along your stuffed dino “Spike,” and enjoyed posing with him for photographs throughout the zoo. This picture was one of my favorites, with Spike brightening up the background.
Tuesday was the Charleston Children’s Museum with your buddy Ellanor and her sister Maggie. Tuesday morning you had me call Ellanor’s mom to see if you girls could have matching hairstyles, and settled on “dog ears,” two pony tails in the back. You girls were SO CUTE, and very sweet to each other, I might add.
I must say, in the picture above, I’m liking that you had boiled peanuts in your cart. That’s my girl.
Yesterday we hit the beach for our first all-day-long beach trip of the season. Beach toys, sea shells, kites – we couldn’t have asked for a nicer beach day.
Although we’ve been enjoying these vacation days, your school days have been pretty exciting lately too. Your class celebrated the first week of spring with a picnic in Forsyth Park, and we were lucky enough to have Nana join us as well.
The most thrilling part of that field trip for you was the visit by Queso the therapy dog. Queso has visited your classroom twice and you are smitten with her. She lives near the park so her owner brought her over to say hello. It’s a good thing Queso is so well-trained and calm, because she was immediately swallowed up by an enthusiastic pack of pre-k kids.
Finally, a line was formed and civility was restored, and you had a chance to give Queso’s owner the picture you’d drawn of her dog, and you had your one-on-one moment with the beloved Queso.
You also enjoyed spending that afternoon with Quinn. We hear more about Quinn than any of your other school buddies, and I snapped this picture of the two of you lounging on blankets in the grass, looking at books. You call him your boyfriend, but I’m not reading too much into that because you say you have 6 boyfriends. (By the way, I asked you if your 6 boyfriends could have other girlfriends too, and you said no.)
Your second field trip was to a Savannah Music Festival show featuring a Cajun band. You got to ride a trolley downtown, and asked Quinn to sit next to you.
The two of you sat together at the show too, and pretended to be cats curled up in your theater seats while you waited for the show to begin.
After the show, it was a pedicab ride to the park (these pics are beginning to make it look a lot like a date). Your Daddy joined the class for a picnic before the trolley ride back to school.
Remember those 6 boyfriends? Well one of them is Will who is in first grade and has been a family friend for several years. He now comes home from school with us most afternoons which as been a ton of fun for you. Will LOVES to draw and tell stories, and his stories often have a dark and mysterious side. I think it’s so interesting how his stories and his drawings have influenced your own. Here’s a picture you recently drew (during Sunday School at church, no less):
That circle in the middle? It’s a ferris wheel of skulls (every other skull has eyelashes so you know it’s a girl). That person to the right is a monster. To the left you added a unicorn, and thank goodness the unicorn is there because it’s shooting magic on the ferris wheel to save all the people. Love it.
Your Daddy and I also had the chance to get a glimpse of your militant, tyrannical side this month. Everyone in your classroom at school has a job, and the jobs rotate every day. Your favorite job is Calendar Helper, in which you temporarily take over for the teacher, leading the class through a calendar
lesson. Basically, you get to be bossy and not get in trouble for it. We wanted to see you in action:
Oh how you made your Daddy and me smile. What will you be when you grow up? A drill sergeant? A teacher? President? Illustrator of horror novels? Whatever it is, I am so looking forward to watching you discover what your future holds. Thank you for another great month, bear. I love you so very much.
This weekend was a super beginning to a week of spring break. Friday night was spent with good friends, Saturday was productive, and today was most egg-celent.
Camille slept with her bunny ears last night so that when she woke up this morning, she’d be ready for “egg hunt day.” After a very nice Palm Sunday service, our church held its annual Easter Egg Hunt in Orleans Square. Camille brought her basket along with “Ellis the bunny” to help her in the hunt.
Tonight, she had an egg hunt encore with good buddies Elsie and Kit. The girls moved so quickly it was hard to document the moment, but they sure had fun.
And Kit sure enjoyed her blueberry cake for dessert!
If you don’t already have the book Bats at the Beach by Brian Lies, then you need to read Lee’s review on Dadaesthetic and then go buy the book. It’s a favorite in our house – a fun tale about what happens when we humans go to sleep and bats have a beach party.
Camille was recently given a fairly wide-open school assignment to do any kind of project on a favorite book. She picked Bats at the Beach and we pretty quickly settled on a re-creation of a beloved scene – when the bats roast “bugmallows” over a fire. Imagine marshmallows on a skewer with cricket legs sticking out of the sides. Deelish.
Camille’s version: Caterpillarmallows
First, skewer three marshmallows.
Use thin pretzel sticks for the legs, and then two small sections of dried spaghetti for antennae, topped with craisins.
Use an edible marker to draw on a smile. Add two chocolate chip eyes, using dabs of white icing for “glue.”
And voilà! One adorable caterpillarmallow (and one proud chef).
Now, make 22 of them for all your classmates and teachers. According to Camille, her project was a hit!
