...and then she said,...
Penned by MJ
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7/23/08
North Mills River Camp Ground
Just down a piece from the Friday night events at The Barn, there is a camp ground tucked away amongst the woods of North Mills River road. I pass with a friend parking areas and camp sites ready for the summer gatherers. It is 80 degrees in the shade and I am dressed in sweats ready to face whatever bugs may come my way. We are out to walk my dogs. This in and of itself is a joke.
My beagle, Banjo, with a brain the size of a walnut, had once the potential of being a mighty warrior. Some say now though that “that dog don’t hunt.” It’s true. I have ruined her. She was never trained for leash walking and pulls at the end of the rope with nose buried along the ground more than likely searching out people food. Her next favorite pastime is controlling the remote from whatever vacant cushion she can find. She also hates going out in the rain and will cross her legs for days if necessary.
My other dog, Sandy, now looking to have mange since I discovered a set of shears in the bathroom cupboard, is more happy-go-lucky and weighs next to nothing so even if she does pull on the leash, it doesn’t matter. She’ll go anywhere. She’s just happy for attention.
We travel along a rocky, dirt road for a ways with slow traveling cars creating mini dust bowls around us. I forgot to bring water. We eventually turn around and head back to the river ideally for a long cool drink where real dogs and their owners splash in the coolness. Mine, upon attempting to sort of dabble their paws in the wetness, decide it’s really not their cup of tea. Regardless of their long tongues and heavy panting, they don’t drink…because, more than likely, there is no bowl.
I find myself more exhausted than exhilarated from the excursion. We were continuously fighting the entanglement of the leashes if not around themselves then around our bodies. The bad idea of the sweat suit probably didn’t help and the lack of water was simple stupidity on my part and the expectation of “taking my dogs for a walk” was purely romantic. We did have good conversation though and time spent together so in that respect, not all was lost. Lessons learned, we have decided to make a game of tennis our next big outing. The kids will be left at home.
6/17/08
Etiquette
As I scrawl the names of the guest list onto beautiful linen envelopes, I realize how much etiquette I have lost over the years. With horrible penmanship and knowing that beautiful script is required to even use a calligraphy pen, I dauntingly hand scribe my daughter’s wedding invitations in purple, ball point ink. I volunteered as the frustration of having to do this on her own was clear. How do you address a recent widow of a second husband who kept her first husband’s last name who sometimes uses her maiden name in conjunction with her first husband’s name? And why would I want to be called Mrs. if I am divorced? And why does the RSVP envelope not get stuffed with the RSVP card of which I already muddled my way through in advance thinking I would save time? And why do some people feel it necessary to invite others only because they had to sit through their children’s ceremonies? And does the return address go on the front or the back? Do you spell out post office box? And what about a really long city name and then state knowing that it will take up the entire lower portion of the envelope? And do you lick the inner envelope or just hope you won’t destroy the paper as you tuck? Maybe I’ve just gotten lazy over the years or it has been a lack of opportunity to practice social etiquette. But you know what, when all is said and done, most of these invitations will end up in someone else’s trash bin and who will really care that I didn’t spell out a first name or used abbreviations or even used…purple ink?
6/8/08
Hooker Falls, Pink Beds and Triple Falls
Today was another hot one and one spent with my daughter and her fiancé; they in front of the camera, me...behind…except for one where I look like something the cat dragged in after playing with me for a few hours first. Anyway, if you go to the Pink Beds parking area in Pisgah Forest, you can walk on a wide trail that is flat enough to not lose complete lung power, cross a couple of wooden bridges over small streams and at this time of year (June) see laurel in bloom. We didn’t hike the whole trail even though I think the flip flops were managing nicely. Hooker Falls was really pretty and I was able to take pictures of the sweethearts sitting behind the falls. Very neat. Then we walked up and up and up to Triple Falls. Finally came to a resting place that also happened to be a great lookout point. Final pics and time to head out. 395 pictures and 10 hours later, we parted. When I left, worn out and dragging, I coveted a beautiful motorcycle parked next to my car and the only thing I could think was freedom. I don’t know how to drive one but the man sitting on the bike was very kind to let me know he had an extra helmet and as tempting as it sounded, I declined knowing I probably wouldn’t want to come back. Really pretty bike though. Must learn how to ride one someday.
6/7/08
Forever Young
The perfect evening for an outdoor celebration. My son graduated from high school last night among air horns and silly string. He is celebrating the final chapter of this part of his life while I look forward to my first high school reunion this year, 25 years later. I have decided to allow my friends and family a reprieve of my incessant mental dialog that they neither ask for nor deserve in their, I am sure, peaceful lives. With that in mind, you dear reader have the ability and the very right to not finish reading any of my thoughts with no fear of guilt or needing to respond. What a wonderful outlet this is to be able to meander aimlessly and not feel like I might be burdening anyone! My gift to my son was homemade chocolate chip cookies and the written words of the song once sung by Joan Baez, Forever Young. I have not made cookies in a very long time and it was nice to bake again, even if only for a couple of hours. Not quite knowing how to navigate the situation of do I or don’t I invite the soon-to-be ex and his parents, I invited them all to attend. Here is the really cool thing. My husband was always one to say he would do one thing and then not follow through at all thus bringing me to a constant stage of confusion…consistently inconsistent if you will. I am happy to say, he has changed! After I extended the invitation to attend the graduation, I received no reply AND no action which means he is now consistent! Personally, I think that is a wonderful step in the right direction for him.
6/4/08
WEEDEATING & LIFE
Web Master Guru told me since I’ve been too busy to actually go gallivanting about town, that I could in fact write about nothing in particular. However, recently going through a marital separation has given me a lot of food for thought of which some insight has successfully, painfully and slowly developed. Surely you have heard that a divorce is much like a death? I didn’t really understand that until just moments ago while weeding and wishing I knew how to use a blow torch. My yard has become a place of reflection about my marriage. I have noticed a parallel of thought that announces itself almost as soon as the rusty pruners are unsheathed. At what point did I allow my pruners to get rusty? How long has it been since that bush got buried by that vine? When did the timber wall begin to rot and fall apart? How long did my marriage suffer? Mine was such a gradual decline of upkeep and commitment that I barely noticed the weeds taking over. So, deep in Juniper, I began pulling and tearing and clipping all unwanted seedlings from their roots. That’s when the big bang hit me. This separation has not been just about the absence of another person. I have lost an entire family. It’s like one day I woke up and they had disappeared. They no longer existed. My aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews, my grandmother, my parents and siblings….everyone was now gone. Divorce is not just a death of A relationship like I always assumed that phrase meant….but a death of a family. These people that I have loved for so long will probably never be in my life ever again. Gone. And the emotional turmoil from this separation has been as if my family have all died and left me...because…in a way they have. I believe THAT is what is meant when divorce is compared to death. It was my insignificant struggle with control over nature that manifested this significant illumination, and oh how I have hated my yard. I think my next visit with it will be much more patient and kind.
WEST FIRST
I like pizza. I used to make it but have not taken the time for that pleasure in a long while. Last week I was able to meet my daughter’s future in-laws and we enjoyed some fabulously yummy creations from a restaurant called West First located in downtown Hendersonville. There were six of us so we ordered three pizzas. The perfect amount it turned out along with salads, an appetizer, and drinks all around. We had your basic 3-cheese, a vegetarian medley and (believe it or not) a barbeque chicken which immediately became my favorite. The restaurant is on a side street between Main and Church, has an upstairs, a full bar menu, and a great fire breathing oven downstairs where the thin crust pizza is perfected. The only small drawback was when one of our party found a small circle of plastic in her salad. Not the best thing to happen but the manager graciously removed that item from the bill. If you like sweet tea, you can’t get it here. However, they do offer refreshing iced tea in various flavors. I think its fun to go out and try new dishes that I can’t figure out how to make at home. So, take a chance and eat some BBQ on a pie! I’m sure glad I did!
4/12/08
ASHEVILLE BALLROOM
The last time I went dancing there was February 16…until last night. And what a great night to go! Surprisingly, I didn’t close the place down but actually left early because my feet were starting to hurt…which was a good sign that I spent most of the evening dancing. When I arrived, I was reminded of the very first night I went dancing there. Someone had told me the ballroom was throwing a “theme” dance and it was “tacky” night. So, I dressed (you got it) in my blue jeans and boots and went as myself. To my anguish, my friend had remembered the wrong night. Tacky night was the night prior. Everyone else, I mean EVERYONE else was dressed to the nines. And there I was in all my glory. Once I got over my fear of being kicked out, I stuck it out through my embarrassment and had a great time…to boot.
Well last night was similar. I obviously didn’t read their Web site correctly. I went to their calendar but it didn’t say specifically that that dance would not be the normal $10 charge, but $25 (ouch). It did not specifically say the theme was French something-or-other. It did not mention that I might want to actually dress up! It did mention reservations were required which I guess should have clued me in. Fortunately, my jeans were dirty so I did dress up…although still in pants. I’ll try to do the girl thing next time. The specialty of the night was a production put on by a local dance company. Fun to watch and made me wonder if I should next learn how to Flamenco dance. It might be fun to learn to flip a hand fan around so seductively. But thinking about it, not sure what I’d do with that ability. That’s right up there with belly dancing. Anyway,
The ballroom is always dressed beautifully and the dancers are the jewelry. And you don’t really need to eat dinner before you go as they offer a buffet of yummy finger foods. Last night, my $25 went towards (among other delicacies) shrimp cocktail and chocolate covered strawberries. I could have died happy last night! They sometimes offer an hour long dance lesson prior to starting up the crooning of the likes of Humperdink, Dino, Elvis…and, believe it or not, Mambo #5 and the Electric Slide (thank you 1990’s country western bars). It’s a non smoking, non alcohol, family friendly, great night out that ends at different times each night….so check the calendar first…and call them to find out specifics!!!
4/11/08
THE GREAT HALL
Copper is such a great color. Now attach it to a set of drums. Last night I explored the Grove Park Inn in Asheville. It was a 45 minute commute for me and well worth the effort. As I strolled past hundreds, if not thousands of blooming tulips and made my way across the brick and cobblestone drive, the music of the house band (Mandy’s) filtered out to me as if echoing a different era I was not privy to. From the entrance I entered into The Great Hall. It was indeed. Massive rock walls, fireplaces as large as some rooms in my house, leather chairs and oak tables, well placed low-lit floor lamps, incredibly high ceilings boasting stenciling and proportional sized chandeliers. One corner even housed a well stocked bar and there seemed to be a concierge willing to help at almost every turn; it truly seemed the amenities never stopped. With all of this, there still remained a cozy atmosphere with a balmy night making its way in through the open porch dining area. All I could think was Casablanca meets the Blue Ridge.
I snuck past healthy palm trees and happy people and made my way to where the music was coming from on the other side of the hall. I took a front row seat in a comfy couch and let the sights and sounds engulf me. I had foolishly not eaten dinner before leaving at 7:15 and had given thought to ordering an appetizer when I arrived. When I found out a glass of wine was going to cost me $10.08, I chose a tap water with a lemon please and the lemon was to be my sustenance. I had to pace myself and the $20 I had in my pocket for the whole evening. However, the smell of steak coming from the Sunset Terrace dining area nearly did me in.
Guests and locals mingled together in a friendly environment. From my vantage point, I witnessed the sunlight fading beyond the terrace walls and the hazy hills began to vibrate with their own twinkle lights. A young prom couple came from the terrace, appropriately dressed for this grand room and yet I felt comfortable in my Wranglers….which are for me, my little black dress. Elegance to boots and flip-flops; all walks are welcome.
Babies dance with their mommies to the music of Jim Croce and James Taylor and others sing along to Margaritaville. The tambourine enticed me to ask Jonathon to dance. I was rejected by a four-year old. So much for me stepping outside my comfort zone. The palm tree was cooperative as I lost sight of my boundaries and began swaying to an old Dean Martin song within its fronds. The music abruptly stopped, and I pretended to fluff the greenery. I grabbed my water and slunk to my next story in Elaines. All and all, add an olive and it was a great mix.
ELAINE’S
It was not just Elaine’s last night. It was Elaine’s Dueling Piano Bar. This event is something that happens every Wednesday through Saturday, from 8 PM to 1 AM. Oh my gosh, what a hoot. The white “pianos” were called Slam Grands, and I had never heard anything like them before. The pianos were not necessarily duking it out between themselves so much as the musicians duking it out with the audience. And they were indeed musicians. Sorry guys, maybe not the greatest vocalists but that really didn’t matter. Through their array of tones, they comically found the heart of the song every time and there was never a pause in the music. The two musicians were true performers and very energetic, with an ability to involve the people. Random interpretations of popular songs from the 1960s to today, their talent and memory was impressive. This being a much more rock-us environment than The Grand Hall, I would say don’t go if you are weak of heart, and do not enjoy loud music and rowdy people. I don’t sing well at all but that doesn’t stop me in the car. Last night, I sang out loud right along with everyone else, and I didn’t care. I think breaking free of my inhibitions earlier with Jonathon helped.