For one reason or another, my parents’ house is full tonight: Mom, Dad, my brother, me, my sister, my nephews, and my grandmother. I was originally slated to sleep with Grandmaw, which was old hat after last week in the mountains, but she left her C-Pap machine at home and is snoring off and on and, I tell you what, despite the fact that I am a snorer myself, I just absolutely cannot sleep with…
The last bit of my time in the mountains was considerably better than the first bit. Wednesday, my dad and grandmother and I headed eastward in my car (which was a trooper) to scale the mountain and turn around in Cherokee, N.C. The weather was heavy and wet and temperamental, but we braved it anyway. The dampness saturated the colors, but when the fog set in, it was hard to see anything through a lens…
This Christmas, surprise the one you love with this beautiful “Humping Bear” figurine. Today was quite a bit better than yesterday. Because it had to be, I guess. We got a late start but ended up frittering away several hours in Gatlinburg proper, milling around, wandering in and out of shops, and getting rained on. A lot. We’re a slow-moving bunch, for sure. Mom is hobbling around because both her feet are in orthopedic boots…
It’s 2 a.m. in Gatlinburg. I’m out on the deck of our cabin, hoodie engaged, enjoying the ha-ha-not-free wireless we paid $12 for. The world’s tiniest creek is babbling several feet below me. The wind is blowing and my feet, despite being besocked, are cold. My grandmother is just inside, her hearing aids resting on the night stand, a frightening C-PAP machine strapped to her face, the television blaring its early-morning mediocrity to the world.…
Seen in her natural habitat, the Middle Child might seem grumpy, unapproachable, and/or miserable, when in fact she is just, as they say in popular parlance, “balls cold.” My parents’ Explorer’s every nook and cranny is full of stuff. We are taking Christmas decorations and baking supplies, for God’s sake. And a giant bin full of food. Because Gatlinburg is so rural that I heard you have to kill and eat your own dinner there.…
The family re-enacted Thursday’s dinner for me today. It was carb-tastically awesome, of course. And then my mom demanded that we go into the living room and take a family picture. So we mustered up all the maturity we could. And now we’re pulling boxes and boxes of Christmas decorations out of the attic. It looks to be a very long night.
My mom called me the other night, crying. I thought something was wrong. Turns out she had just seen this Mother’s Day tribute on my Flickr for the first time, and it moved her to tears. She got all choked up while leaving me a voicemail, and again when I called her right back. “Well, I just have to know. Were you drunk?” she joked. I assured her that no, I hadn’t been. Or well,…
In honor of my sister’s thirtysomethingth birthday today (she might string me up if I tell the whole internet her age), I have to share this photo. This is one of the greatest pictures of all time. Not only is that blue and white outfit positively smashing, but the miniature VW Bug full of cigarettes adds some much needed surreality. I am obviously obsessively checking the top of my hair to make sure there are…
It rained on my grandmother’s parade. “Story of my life,” she said as we huddled under the church awning Saturday afternoon, watching the rain thin the already light crowd. River Day isn’t like it used to be. I have these (probably embellished) memories of huge crowds of people in sweatshirts and jackets (they used to have it in October when it was cooler) set against a backdrop of autumn leaves and damp blacktopped streets, milling…
My cousin Jay: Man, they all had some pretty handwriting.
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