Life is like a B-movie. You don't want to leave in the middle of it, but you don't want to see it again. Ted Turner

31 January 2003, 3:12 peeyem

I love Ted Turner. And I know he's crazy as a march hare, but I don't care. I love him. At least you pretty much always know what he's up to.

My first stepmother used to lay out in the sun all the time. It was her mission in life to be brown as a pecan. She had a lounge chair and she would go out in the backyard from 10 in the morning until 2 in the afternoon if the sun was out. She eventually refined her process and would put her lounge chair in a kiddy pool so that she could periodically splash herself. She also, at one point, had a reflective thing that she put under her to attract even more rays of deadly sunshine.

You might be wondering what brought that on.

Well, for one thing, Ted Turner gave a commencement speech one year that consisted of The one piece of advice I can give you is, put on sunscreen and wear a hat. As I've already mentioned, I love me some Ted Turner.

The other thing is that I am having lunch with my friend Debbie tomorrow at Soleil, which, as we all know now, being a more cosmopolitan bunch than we used to be, is pronounced so-lay. My crazy first stepmother's favorite suntan lotion was Bain de Soleil (ban duh so-lay), which she pronounced bane duh sall.

No, I'm not especially interested in whatever happened to her.

30 January 2003, 4:04 peeyem

We have practice tonight, so naturally it is wet out. This season has been the pits on Thursdays. We are about a million practices in the hole and we only have three weeks left. The only thing more aggravating would be having to make up matches.

Ah, well. Instead of practice, maybe I should go to the mall. It never hurts to have a little retail therapy of an evening when it's too nasty out for anything else.

More and more I worry about the spectre of war. I don't believe war is the answer, and if it is, I don't think Iraq is the right target at this time. But how do you declare war on a nation of guerillas that is, for all intents and purposes, independent of any government?

And they tell me the economy is improving, but I'm not buying much of that, either.

29 January 2003, 3:33 peeyem

Nothing like being treated like the princess that I am in my own mind. Now I get to park in a visitor spot in view of the security desk, and they watch me to and from my car and generally act protective. They're screening building visitors.

Once again, I am reminded that I am surrounded by the best people.

29 January 2003, 1:22 peeyem

I seem to have acquired a tiny bit of a stalker. The call was, at first blush, flattering. For about 14 seconds. Then it was just creepy. I mean, it's nice and all to be found attractive by another motorist, but not so much to be ferreted out in one's office building. I have no idea how he got the names of the companies in my building unless he has been inside. I'm sure he's a perfectly nice, albeit socially inept, man. That certainty did not stop me from commencing a minor freak-out that escalated to full-tilt boogie in about 4 minutes flat. I would have found the whole thing far less disturbing had he just followed me into the parking lot and presented himself in person.

Now I'm just scared. Because if he can find me here, he can find me at home. But if he does, it will be me and him and mostly me. Or I will go to Plan B, which is to bail out and run like hell.

Ye gods. It's always something.

27 January 2003, 11:43 ayem

I hate to bitch and moan all the time.

That's not, strictly speaking, true. I hate bitching and moaning much of the time.

Today's rant is brought to you by "international businessmen," which you may interpret any way you wish.

A gentleman (my grandmother, may she rest in peace, used to say gentleman is what we say when that is not quite what we mean) called this morning. He did not introduce himself. The very first thing he said was "how are you doing?" I do not like this sort of telephone etiquette. I answered with, "Fine, thanks. Who is calling, please?"

What he said was, "I'm an international businessman..." and then he proceeded to ramble on about something being published. I told him what we publish, which is to say newsletters. But we only publish the two that we write, and they both have very specific target audiences; those audiences are not comprised of foreign businesses, as American medical coding and harassment law and OSHA and the other stuff we write about are not the same anywhere else, and you'll just have to take my word on that. We do not publish the works of other people, nor do we use outside distributors or go on newsstands or accept or place advertising.

We get a lot of phone calls from a lot of people, and if you have a phone number and a yellow pages listing and a web presence, you expect that sort of thing. And if they identify themselves when they call and are polite, we listen to them long enough to figure out what it is that they are looking for. Others in my office say "no" and hang up, but I usually will try to refer them to someone, and if I can't, I thank them for calling and say goodbye.

The gentleman this morning neither identified himself nor allowed me an opportunity to speak, preferring instead to launch into his credentials. When he finally paused for breath, I asked how I could help him and he demanded to be published. Or at least that's what I think he demanded. At any rate, I told him that we are not that sort of publisher. He then demanded to know what we publish. I told him and he started in on me again. I asked him was this a sales call and he took great offense. I asked was there, in fact, anything I could help him with, and again he started listing his credentials, whereupon I thanked him for calling and said 'bye now.

You would think that would have been the end of it, would you not? But no. He called back and said that I had to listen, and I had to let him subscribe to a newsletter, because he has international clients who are pharmaceutical reps and wholesale/retail distributors and the like. And he told me that I had bad manners. Like I care about his opinion of my manners? No. Anyway. I asked him which of his clients did he think would be interested in a newsletter on medical coding specific to the United States? He seemed stymied at that and then started in again on his credentials. Then he said, and I am not making this up, "It is much nicer to listen to me." At that point, I completely lost control and told him that if he dares call back to give me his credentials or to lecture me or anyone in my organization, I will personally make it my mission in life to teach him a thing or two about businesse etiquette and how the phone company hates a harasser.

I hate when people are pushy. It makes me sideways with annoyance.

Sheesh. I have given this too much time already. My head is starting to hurt.

24 January 2003, 5:18 peeyem

On this day a child was born. But they haven't named him yet. He's Leanne's sister Karen's little boy and I thought he was going to be born on my birthday, but no. Anyway, he weighed 6 pounds and some change and was 20 inches long and he's pretty and healthy.

It is extremely cold here. It is, according to the papers, the coldest it's been in a decade. I have been dripping the pipes all week in order to avoid the calamity of water damage, and so far have escaped unscathed, save the potted plants I have managed to kill. And they weren't even outside to start with.

I am most dissatisfied with my lipsticks of late. I can't find a color and texture that pleases me. I have a color I like, but it's too sheer, and I have a texture I like, but it's too RED. I actually have about a million lipsticks and you'd think one would do, but no.

The helicopter hovering overhead makes me nervous.

22 January 2003, 11:45 ayem

On this day a child was born. They called her Susan.

20 January 2003, 12:15 peeyem

Today is my annual day to get up on my soapbox about how I think it's fine that kids today don't know quite who Martin Luther King, Jr. was, because it means they've become accustomed to civil rights.

Of course, there's a lot further to march.

The eye doctor on Thursday was horrified at the prescription I was wearing when I got to his office. When I told him about the reading glasses and bifocals, he finally just couldn't stand it anymore and asked who the other doctor was. I don't need reading glasses and bifocals, I just need the right prescription. You can bet your sweet ass I'll be reporting him and firing off letters all over the place.

Little Riley's third birthday party was Saturday, and it was the first time one of his little friends was there. Usually I see him in stand-alone format, so it was interesting to see him play with someone his own size. He's a cute kid, and one I'm especially fond of. And his parents aren't half bad, either. Uncle Greg was there, too, and Uncle Greg has renovated a church that he lives in.

Tami McC had her third baby on Friday, I think. It was a girl whenever she was born, and she is named Della, I think. I should perhaps wait to report this when I have all the details.

Yesterday was tennis day, and finally, a win! Huzzah! That said, I had a really stellar partner (Rob) to pull my chestnuts out of the fire.

Finally, I am going in just about an hour to get my new contacts, and then I'm going to go get the calendar refill I have finally located. Tomorrow I have to go renew my vehicle registration, which is always a joy and a thrill.

Don't you hate when you bother yourself to go to a site, only to find it's all banal and trivial?

15 January 2003, 3:52 peeyem

So. I can't see.

That sounds worse than it is. I can see, just not as well as I used to, and my vision was never that good to start with.

Last year, when I went to the eye doctor, he stepped my prescription down, despite my telling him I didn't want to lose any of the closeup or distance vision that I had, neither of which was great, but it was at least a known quantity. Anyway. He stepped the prescription down and told me I might need to get some reading glasses to wear with my contacts. Which I think more or less defeats the purpose of wearing contacts in the first place, and that purpose is primarily so I won't have to wear glasses. He also prescribed bifocals for a new glasses prescription.

I have known since I got the new contacts that my vision wasn't quite right. I called them and they told me that they would take a little adjusting to. So fine. I waited. And as I told you on Monday, I can't read the overhead signs on 285 in time to get all the way over and off.

Despite your snickers, I am too old to be consigned to the right hand lane.

Last night at tennis practice, I whiffed at least 15 balls, and that's not like me. I sometimes don't get there, but my hand-eye coordination is superb and if my feet will get me there, I can contact the ball.

Tomorrow morning I am going to see another eye doctor.

Today's lesson is if you know something just isn't right, don't let it go, even if it is a doctor telling you to. But you knew that already, didn't you?

14 January 2003, 3:41 peeyem

Fortunately I don't sleep on satin sheets, because it takes a stupefying amount of moisturizer to keep me from wrinkling and cracking these days. I have night cream, for pete's sake. And undereye cream. I'd slide right off the bed.

In addition to the things I put on my face at night, there's also the oil I pour down my back in the shower, because there are places on my back that, living alone, aren't able to get lotion on them. This is primarily a problem because it makes the tub quite slick, and like I said, I live alone, so if I slip and break something, I won't likely be found until several days have passed, and then I'll just be naked and oily and dead.Which is, I know, a cheery thought for those reading who have keys to the house and might be the ones to find me.

The old state flag was banned at Sonny Perdue's inauguration yesterday. Not that I give a rosy rat's ass about which flag they fly. I'm just tired of hearing about it. And if you've seen the new flag, you will see that it still has the Confederate emblem on it. But whatever. The flag has been changed. It's done. A lot of people are pissed off with Roy Barnes because he just up and did it. But does it need to all be hashed over again? Fine. Be pissed off with Roy Barnes. You showed him, by God, you showed him by not voting for him. So let it go. Stop renting airplanes and pulling banners behind them and showing the world that you're ready to walk backwards instead of forward. If you've got that kind of money to start with, how about tossing some of it to Grady? Or to the shelters? Or, shit, to the school system. Hang the flag of your choice on your house and let it go already.

Seems like there was something else I wanted to say, but maybe not.

14 January 2003, 12:02 peeyem

Jennifer Lopez works in my building. On the 6th floor.

Not really, but a Jennifer Lopez wannabe. It's horrifying. Too much ass in too little pants.

13 January 2003, 3:47 peeyem

Or a blank computer screen.

It was a good weekend. I saw two movies, which is not common for me. One of them was The Hours, and it was really good, albeit terribly depressing. The other was Adaptation, which was a good movie, but I didn't particularly enjoy it. I had forgotten Spike Jonze's tendency toward bad hair and dim lighting and grime, none of which I particularly care to spend two hours looking at.

I really need to do something about my vision. My eye doctor did something to my contacts prescription and I am blind as a bat. Things in the mid-range are fine, but close up sucks and so does distance. I was coming home on 285 a week or so ago and realized I couldn't read the overhead exit signs. It's a good thing I know the way, huh? I think I need one distance contact and one close-up one.

I got a DVD player for Christmas. From Grimace, who came over to install it. Only there were not enough jacks or whatever in the back of the television to accomplish this without disconnecting the VCR, which I use all the time to record things. Another friend called and ended up speaking with Grimace about what was needed to make this all work. I'm not sure what the conversation was, but it ended up with one of them telling the other not to worry about it, that he would take care of it for me. And then telling me he'd sort it out for me.

How I got the reputation of being helpless is beyond me. I do manage to get where I'm going each day, reasonably punctually and in all the proper undergarments, and I haven't set the house or my hair on fire, nor have I lost an entire person in a large crowd or been duped into smuggling something into or out of a foreign country.

But I digress. Then I was told what piece to get to make it all work out. And then he would come over and "sort it all out."

Whatever. I went to Radio Shack and told them what I was trying to do, and they sold me the necessary RF Modulator and coaxial cable. I was going to wait for the promised "sorting out" but decided to hell with the male ego and did it myself.

I don't need no stinkin' man, except to bring me another beer.

8 January 2003, 5:01 peeyem

Cooter!

I thought I was seeing Ben Jones of Dukes of Hazzard fame when I was leaving the bank today. Fortunately I noted him getting into a Volkswagen Golf before things got out of hand. I don't much think Cooter drives a VW. And not that I would have made a scene or anything, you understand, but it's not every day you run into one of the stars of Dukes of Hazzard.

Had to order another quarter mile of silk ribbon today. We have run out of copies of our book and are getting the rest of them bound. I'm hoping to have to do a second printing.

It has been an unrealistically beautiful day today. Sometimes I can't believe my good luck.

7 January 2003, 12:41 peeyem

I went. It was both easier and harder than I thought it might be. Easier to slip back into the fold, harder than I ever imagined it would be to see the men in my family cry. You expect your aunts and grandmothers and mothers to cry; we're women, it's one of the things we do.

It's hard knowing that the one thing any of them want is the one thing you can't give them. It's easy to understand in my little mind that it's awholenother day on the calendar. It's simultaneously hard to understand that in my heart.

Randy Mimbs noted during the service that of all the children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren only two were missing, and those two predeceased him. It's a feat, I think, to be such a force that everyone wants to come back to see you off.

And then there's the delightful strangeness of being around a bunch of people who look like you and move like you.

I picked up my nephews, Blake and Britt, in Forsyth on my way home. Their mama and daddy don't believe it, but they have really good manners and a nice way about them. And they have big imaginations and are hysterically funny and talk constantly. And they think I'm 23, which doesn't hurt at all. It also doesn't hurt that they have faces like angels.

I had not seen Beverly in years, and yet, there she was, same familiar face, same big heart, and most of all, same wide streak of silly to match my own. She has two children, and they are funny and smart and cute.

Ricky's children were there, and that's a gift of the best sort. I had not seen Ricky in several years, and he looked wonderful.

And HT and Arlene not only looked good but smelled good, which Arlene told me is because, it being a Saturday, they bathed.

And everyone else. All there, healthy and happy and pretty to look at and grown up well and kind. That's the biggest gift of all.

3 January 2003, 2:24 peeyem

Me, Papa, and Beverly, Christmas 1968

Daddy called last night to tell me Papa was near the end. This morning I had an email from my aunt Jo Ann and a message from my sister that he had died at 6:30 this morning.

His name was Horace, but they all called him Hawk. Daddy says he's being buried in a suit. Funny. I never saw him in anything but overalls and, in recent years, blue short pajamas.

The world's a different place for me now. I am going home.

2 January 2003, 5:18 peeyem

I am, inexplicably, dressed in black from head to toe. I think it expresses my inner scream.

2 January 2003, 1:47 peeyem

Hey! It's a whole new year. Ain't that schwell? A friend of mine said at this time last year that 2002 was going to be better than 2001, it just had to be. I feel that way about 2003. 2002 was hard. I seem to have cried a lot. And been stay-home sick twice, which I'm not accustomed to. Neither of which I enjoy so much. On the other hand, I got the fabulous Bose radio/CD player and the refrigerator which make me very happy. Some big people who are very important to me had some little people. Some other big people made steps in their careers and bought houses and found their serves again. The little people I know and love are growing up so well and strong and funny and sweet that I could just eat them with a spoon. And waking up this side of the dirt everyday is nothing to sneeze at, either.

I'm leaving my driver's license picture up because I am so tickled with it.

Today is my mother's birthday, and I believe I overshot myself with the flowers. I called a florist in Albany to order some and she asked how much I wanted to spend. I have no idea what the value of money is in Albany, so I told her the amount I'd spend here and asked her to make it bright with no carnations, and not a houseplant, because Miss Jan will tend to kill your house plants with pretty good haste. I also told her to have the card say, "Happy 28th Birthday. Love, your 4-year-old daughter." Anyway. She just called (mama, not the florist), laughing. She said that she had called the florist and said that she had received some flowers that were for someone else, because she doesn't have a 4-year-old daughter, and she's certainly not 28, and that the florist had asked if she has a daughter named Susan. But all of that's not why I believe I overshot myself. She said the arrangement was a little over 2 feet in diameter.

I hab a hed toad. My head seems to be floating a few feet over my body and my eyeballs are hot. Also, I have to keep squinting to focus. By this time tomorrow, I should be completely delightful with snot.

This has taken over half an hour to write, and it's not even good, or cogent. I might better have a little liedown.

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