2013: Oh, the Places You'll Go!

"You're off to great places! You're off and away!" - Dr. Seuss, Oh, the Places You'll Go

For the first two-thirds of my life, I stayed close to home and on the ground. The furthest afield I'd been by age 25 was an 8th grade car trip to Washington, D.C. for National History Day. Because I'm cool like that. But somewhere along the way, I got on board with the friendly skies and found myself dropping pins in the map well beyond the Georgia borders. Last year - yes! It's last year now! - was no exception.

January
Honolulu, Hawaii
"It's opener there in the wide open air." - Dr. Seuss
Every map of the U.S. you've ever contemplated has misled you - Hawaii is way out in the Pacific Ocean. Way, way, way out there on a 10-hour non-stop flight across four time zones. Good thing the Pacific is a beautiful clear blue expanse and there are acres of leafy forest worthy of Jurassic Park to wander through in search of waterfalls and hibiscus and giant ferns to ease the jet lag. And there, tuna really is the chicken of the sea - it's the only thing that's not outrageously expensive in paradise, so I ate my weight in it. I had cocktail hour in a hotel suite featured on Lost, drank my first mai tai (not my jam), and stiffed a cab driver for the first time in my life. And I fell. More on that later.

February
Absolutely nowhere fast
"Out there things can happen and frequently do to people as brainy and footsy as you." - Dr. Seuss
Footsies can befall terrible fates in paradise. I took a tumble my first full day in Honolulu. Not deterred by this little sprain, I limped a half a mile to a pharmacy to purchase an ace bandage and proceeded to tour myself on foot through the island's botanical gardens, hike up the side of its volcanic crater Diamond Head, and traveled clear across its length to stand on the North Shore and watch the surfers tackle the waves at the birthplace of American surf culture. But I spent all of February off my feet and on crutches to boot when, upon my stateside return, I learned that  my pesky sprain was actually a broken ankle.

March 
"You'll come down from the Lurch with an unpleasant bump. And the chance are, then, that you'll be in a slump." - Dr. Seuss
Somewhere in early March, I was freed from my boot and set back on both feet and told to resume my wanderings as I pleased. It was a short slump in my wide world of travelings, but I stayed mostly grounded and close to home. I did make the journey to the wilds of Marietta and then on to another world entirely where sparkling fairies ran free and a very special one got a pink unicorn for her 4th birthday.



April
Durham, North Carolina
"You'll get mixed up, of course, as you already know. You'll get mixed up with many strange birds as you go." - Dr. Seuss
In tobacco country, I reunited with my best friend Nikki - a fellow strange bird -  for a long weekend in the Triangle. We connected points in downtown Durham, Duke's fantastic Gothic architecture and the Sarah P. Duke Gardens where we were able to picnic with the Longerbeams and their new puppy - because the more strange birds, the merrier. And while Nikki and me planned to recreate some of the epic moments from our 5K training, we drank beer and photographed graffiti instead.

May 
New York, New York
"You're on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the guy who'll decide where to go."
While my traipsing has led me to the west, the mountains, the Midwest and furthered my adventures in the southeast, New England remained elusive. And while it's a little hard to believe, May brought my first bite of the Big Apple. A day in Manhattan doesn't afford much time for seeing the city that never sleeps, and neither, for that matter, did getting caught in an 18-block torrential downpour without an umbrella until 12 blocks in when I doled out $5 to a street vendor. But rolling soggily solo (and with a little help from Google maps), I made it to Times Square, Rockefeller Center, Central Park, Radio City Music Hall, and most importantly, the New York Public Library where even the water fountains are beautiful and bookish. Oh, and I saw Naked Cowboy. Mark that one off the bucket list.

June
San Diego, California
"With banner flip-flapping, once more you'll ride high. Ready for anything under the sky." -Dr. Seuss

Mid-year, it was back west for a whole week on the California coast. Things were a bit wild there - a trip to the famed San Diego zoo and up the coast to La Jolla to bark with the seals. But best of all was the chalice of sangria at Casa Guadalajara in Old Town. It was so good, we went there twice. And in between visits, we hit the deck of the Midway and found our way into a narrow speakeasy with walls covered in golden skulls and a ceiling that  bore eerie vintage portraits whose eyes seemed to watch the revelers below. And before I left, I managed to squeeze in a look at the bar boasting to have hosted the sleazy bar scene from Top Gun. It would seem they've lost that loving feeling.

July
Athens Regional Urgent Care Clinic
"I'm sorry to say so but, sadly it's true that Bang-ups and Hang-ups can happen to you." - Dr. Seuss
First there was my birthday and the Hang-up of the Plumbing Apocalypse. But after that, there was a Bang-up of a more physical nature. My nickname isn't Smash for nothing, and  my right foot fell victim to my smashing in late July. In what could only be described as a freak accident, I caught my toenail on the  back of Mom's shoe in a parking lot in Atlanta and divorced it from the nail bed. And from there, I was sped back home with my foot propped on the dashboard wrapped in mounds of snowy white gauze to the urgent care where my toenail was surgically removed. And then sewed back on. Let me repeat that. My toenail was totally removed from my foot. And then SEWN BACK ON. Hello, Frankentoe. And may I say, this trip is one I hope never to repeat.

[Picture omitted to spare the faint of heart. Those with a stomach for the grotesque inquire within.]

August 
Nashville, Tennessee
"You'll find the bright places where Boom Bands are playing." - Dr. Seuss
As you may recall, I've been to Music City before, but I mostly cavorted with the historic and the six-feet-under. This time around, I hit the honky tonks, including Legends Corner. And I can neither confirm or deny that I did my best impression of clogging to a cover of Alabama's "Dixieland Delight." A woman thankful to have both feet in working order should follow the impulse to dance when it comes.


September 
Indianapolis, Indiana
Oddly, I've flown to Indianapolis before, but it was to rent a car and head directly to Kokomo, Indiana. No, really. Kokomo, Indiana. It's not what The Beach Boys promised.

This time, I spent a couple of days in the home of the Colts and found it to be utterly Midwestern. Like, it's just so. very. Midwestern. In fact, the restaurant we ate at was Midwestern nouveau cuisine. I mean, I can't make this stuff up. So essentially, Indiana is the state that's home to things so utterly true, they cannot be fabricated. Like this dessert. It's called a barn-raising. Cross my heart.

October
Richmond, Alexandria & Charlottesville, Virginia
"You have brains in your head and feet in your shoes." - Dr. Seuss

Outside Monticello

Mom, Dad and I took a week in October to drive the Ford King Ranch up to the state that's for lovers and dead presidents and nerdy folks like us. From Richmond to Alexandria to Charlottesville, we saw two historic houses, four presidential residences - and a bonus presidential grave to bring our grand total to five (six if you count Jefferson Davis and his temporary presidency over the Confederate States) - one ancestral resting place, an old train station and the state's botanical gardens because I need more pictures of orchids. For the record, the founding fathers are fascinating and flawed and knew how to pick properties with killer views of the Potomac and the Blue Ridge. And also, to the Kroger in Charlottesville, I am really sorry about breaking the quart of chocolate milk all over the deli floor. And, if you want the whole 66-page photo essay novella, check out Spare-Time Shooter.

November
Lookout Mountain, Georgia & Tennessee
"On and on you will hike and I know you'll hike far." - Dr. Seuss

Lover's Leap

Continuing travels back into the past, I cajoled my dad into driving us to Lookout Mountain where he grew up and spinning a few old family yarns for cataloging. Aside from setting eyes on the famed Kendrick's Switch where moonshining ancestors had a shootout with local deputies and seeing the grave of great uncle Nepolean (apparently the Southern spelling), we also visited Dad's childhood home and the Lookout Mountain Golf Club where Dad caddied back when it was Fairyland and you could hit a long drive clear off the mountain if you weren't careful. We saw Seven States and the innards of Rock City, and points of personal interest like the curve where Charles Bracewell thought he could beat the cops to The Tubes but took the curve on Bailey too hard and broke both axles on the shiny Corvette he drove. Bet your tour guide didn't show you that.

December
Grand Rapids, Michigan
"Waiting for...the rain to go...or the snow to snow." - Dr. Seuss
I started the month waiting through jury selection and subsequent trial. But when it came time for the holidays, I hitched a plane to Cleveland and the on to Grand Rapids for a yuletide celebration with Jason's family. We arrived to freezing rain falling in biting sheets, and we combated the cold the best way we knew how - with delicious food and bourbon. All that icy rain froze solid when the temperature plummeted, and we woke Sunday to a powerless winter wonderland. Pro tip: this is not the time to wash your hair if your hairdryer (like most) requires electricity. Good spirits could not be deterred, and we powered through with a well-built fire and Cuddle Duds, a fleecy winter hat, a very warm scarf and Thinsulate-lined gloves (thanks to Jason's mom for the #winterswag). It was the most snow I'd ever seen, and the most fun electricity-less day I've ever had. I suspect the very charming company had something to do with that.

I went some wonderful places in 2013, and a few places where I was "all hung up in a prickle-ly perch." Beyond all those points on the actual map, I charted a few important places on my personal map, leaving some places that were low and lonely and finding new ones that made my heart sing. I suspect Dr. Seuss would advise me in 2014, "You're off to Great Places! Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting. So...get on your way!" And I am on my way, already looking at 2014 as an amazing adventure waiting to be had. Onward!

Overcoming My Slothly Ways

Lest you think that on every weekend, I'm as industrious as I was on this one, let me update you on today's productivity.

* Finished Ready Player One, a book that, if you grew up in the '80s and have any affinity for the video games of yore, you must read.

* Updated my GoodReads accordingly and demanded that my best friend and at least three others finish and or read it poste haste.

* Browsed the library book sale and scored 30-plus books and a few movies  for a mere $20.

* Successfully avoided gameday traffic.

* Added all new books - and there are quite a few from the recent carnage at Borders - to the shelves in the stubrary. Alphabetized and everything.

* In the process, identified at least four books that can be donated to next year's library sale. Including my copy of Sophie's Choice. The. worst. book. ever. (Okay, so maybe Heart of Darkness is the worst, but I've already gotten rid of that one.)

* Assembled my brand new vacuum cleaner, my very first non-hand-me-down model. And, yes, it's only been riding around in the back of the Rav for a week. Details, details.

* Used said vacuum cleaner to clear away the growing colony of dust bunnies in the corners of my room

* Also used vacuum with hose not properly attached, whirling aforementioned dust bunnies into the air.

* Cleaned both bathrooms, which I'm sorry to say, gave me great concern over the amount of hair I seem to shed.

* Emptied the dishwasher. Loaded the dishwasher. Emptied the dishwasher. I sense a theme here...

* Did four loads of laundry which equals no less than eight trips up and down the basement stairs

* Listened to newly procured Adele's 21 album. So late to the party on that one, but it's a masterpiece.

* Changed the sheets on both beds, meaning tonight's sleep will be Snuggle-rific.

* And speaking of sleep...

32

Photo: Leo Reynolds

According to Wikipedia, 32 is a happy number. It's also the number of pages in a standard comic book. And the Fahrenheit temperature at which water freezes. Today, it's also my age - a way of marking the passage of time. The last few years, that particular pastime has been full of frustrations at those things that weren't part of the equation. Those things that, in my own mind and heart or in the eye's of others were subtractions. But this year, I choose to look at the math a little differently. This year, I'm going to look at what adds up to 32 reasons to celebrate myself.

1. Daughter - Perhaps my first role in life...one I arrived almost a full month late for, but when I showed up, it was with a total devotion to my parents that I carry still.
2. Little sister - It came fast on the heels of daughter, being a sister, and the fierce loyalty and love for my older sister and brother with it.  
3. Friend - I'm still friends with some of my earliest friends - Sarah, who I've known since I was three; Niki, who's been one of my dearest friends since first grade.  That loyalty thing again.
4. Loyalty - So let's talk about that thing loyalty. Once I'm won, I'm hard to lose.
5. Smile - From the earliest pictures, I can see my smile. Even if the baby face doesn't look like me anymore, that smile - big, open, happy - is there.
6. Laugh - Loud, cackling and anything but ladylike, it's frequent and heartfelt. And contagious.
7. Writer - I found one of the great loves of my life early in words and stuck with it.
8. Pictures - My eyes see, and I can show what I see.
9. Honesty - I cannot tell a lie. Never could.
10. Hugs - Hugs are little bits of love passed on through a squeeze. I believe in 'em. And I give them out with reckless abandon.
11. Compassion - No one ever cries alone.
12. Left-handed - My wronghandedness has always been a badge of honor - especially when I have the telltale smear of pen ink on the outside of my hand.
13. Humor - I can laugh at me.  That's important.
14. Courage - When I got to a point in my life when I really needed help, I admitted my frailties and found the strength to ask for help.
15. Clumsiness - My bruises and scrapes (literal and figurative) have been the reason for many a side-splitting story.
16. Dandelions - I know they're weeds, but even weeds need love.
17. Hopeful - Despite the trials and tribulations, I never lose hope that better things await.
18. Creativity - The inner-workings of my brain are mysterious and magical.
19. Faith in mankind - While it gets me into trouble from time to time, I have an unfailing (some would say naive) faith in the goodness of man.
20. Aunt - A more recent addition to my list (four years and counting), I lavish love on my nieces and nephews.  And promise to teach the left-handed one to tie his shoes.
21. Volunteer - The notion of giving of one's self and one's time entirely for the benefit of someone else carries the power of change.
22. Adventure - Some would question my inclusion of this...not an innate quality of mine...but a learned one that has led me to push my boundaries and discover the world outside of my comfort zone.
23. Openness - No mystery here, which I often lament. But you can trust that what you see is what you get.
24. Simplicity - While I can get caught up in an overstimulated need/want frenzy with the best of them, in the end, I can enjoy the simplest of things: clouds, a particularly lovely tree, a drop of water on the edge of a petal, that you can buy something called Fluff in a jar.
25. House - The bane of my existence for some time, it's still something I accomplished. Like a grown-up or something.
26. Nostalgia - All that came before, hazy with hindsight, is precious.
27. Shoes - What, you say?  How can shoes be on this list?  Because they've evolved into some extension of all the facets of my personality.  A shoe for all seasons.
28. Grace in the profane - One of my grad school professors used this phrase all the time...and I like to think I've learned how to see the grace even in the dimmest of circumstances.
29.  Curiosity - Mostly this leads to the accumulation of more useless trivia knowledge, but occasionally, I find a way to turn it into something meaningful.
30.  Encourager - I will be your cheerleader and your champion.  Your triumph is mine; your failure is a reason for me to swoop in with hugs (see #10).
31.  Singing - It's a terrible racket. But I do it because it makes me happy - with the windows down and the radio up, and it's one thing that's taught me not to apologize for those things that bring me joy.
32. Love - In an ever-widening circle of people, from those who have known me for decades, to those who have come into my life in recent years and months, there is love.  I never run out of that.

So that's my list.  Happy birthday to me and all my 32 years.

Smashville

Early on in life, it was clear that I would not be known for grace.  By age 11, my sister nicknamed me "Smash" for the collection of bumps, bruises and scrapes that constantly marred my arms, shins and knees.  These injuries were of the sort one expects from a growing adolescent.  Problem is, I never outgrew them.

Something about traveling seems to inspire my gracelessness, and my latest business trip was no exception.  You may recall my 14-hour cross-country adventure or the time Captain Fail Pants went to Washington.  I kept the klutz alive with my recent jaunt to Nashville.

• The reserved rental car, advertised as a Chevy Impala, was a minivan, resulting in a confusing conversation about getting a car from another rental place in town and a cross-town drive to pick up said car.  So much for leaving on time.
• At 3:45, I tweeted, "Nashville-bound and stuck in maaajor traffic accident on 285 listening to Wheatus 'Teenage Dirtbag' and wishing I'd stopped for Combos."
• At 4:30: "Officially lost an hour on 285 and #sittingstill #swearingtomyself
• And at 5:15, when the standstill from the overturned tractor trailer blocking four lanes of traffic had stolen an hour and a half of my life: "This is the part where I start to lose it completely. Almost 2 hours lost. #iwillnotcry"
• I didn't cry.  I did eat two McDonald's cheeseburgers and an order of large fries, which fortified me until I arrived in Nashville, seven hours after departing from home.  
• The next morning, I discovered instead of shampoo, I had two shower gels, and so, I washed my hair with shower gel.
• The first pair of pantyhose I put on ran from top to toe.  But my awesome mother advised me to pack a second pair, just in case.  Mother knows best.  And knows that her daughter is a complete disaster most of the time.
• At the tradeshow set up, the literature stand was broken and the tradeshow floor was sweltering and I tried unsuccessfully for 10 minutes to get the TV working only to realize it wasn't plugged in.
• I finished the setup, stood back to admire my handiwork, sweating, and realized…that the materials that were urgently FedExed to my hotel so that I would have them for the tradeshow were, in fact, still at the hotel.
• At this point, a complete, swirling monsoon descended on Nashville.
• I forged across the street to the parking deck, holding my umbrella like a battle shield against the wind.
• In my hurry to get out of the rain, I tripped on the lip of the sidewalk and fell crushing my umbrella.  Literally broke it.  Bent the handle into a frown - which technically could've been a smile if turned the other way, but let's face it: that was a frown.
• Dude standing there says, "Are you okay?" and in total embarassment I popped to my feet and assured him I was fine.  Then I limped away, toting the ruined umbrella and cursing.
• Second pair of pantyhose? #totalled
• Both knees #totalled
• I pulled out of the parking space and came down the ramp...which was blocked by a paving machine.  I waited impatiently until one of the workers directed me around the mammoth piece of equipment.
• Turned the wrong way out of the parking deck and had to circle the block on one-way streets.
•  Drove back to my hotel, pulled into the turnabout, waved away the over-eager valet and ran inside, red-faced and sweating and asked for the package.  They asked for ID. I showed them my tradeshow badge like it was press credentials.
•  Back at the parking deck, I left the crumpled umbrella in the passenger seat and focused on getting across the street in one piece.
•  Inside, I stopped in the ladies' room, ditched my busted up hosiery, wiped the blood from my knees and took stock of my reflection - I looked like Gilda Radner working the Weekend Update desk.
•  Later that night, I tried to escape my luck with a nice dinner with my clients.  Instead, I got confused coming back from the restroom, and they caught me talking to myself - announcing that I'd taken a wrong turn - right beside our table.
•  And though the second morning went smoothly, by the end of the day, my high-heeled shoes had nearly crippled me.  Though I had planned to go back to the convention center to change clothes for the drive home, I couldn't bear the thought of another step.  Which is how I learned that desperation is changing clothes in a rental car on the fifth floor of the parking deck.
• Only later, closing in on midnight, exhausted from head to toe and fighting to stay awake, did I realize that desperation is really being willing to listen to "Candyshop" by 50 Cent on high volume.

And so, I arrived home, once again riddled with bruises and scrapes, with a dilapidated umbrella in the front seat and a new appreciation for gangsta rap.  And a host of reminders that Smash lives.