Saturday, October 30, 2010

How Not to Begin a Road Trip


MY SON, MY HERO, THE FIXER OF EVERYTHING
Let it be said right up front that, except for a very short visit to North Carolina, I have not been out of Georgia for several years. Let it also be said that, although I enjoy many things about living in Georgia, I do not wish to spend the rest of my days looking at only the local Georgia sights; however, one does what one must when a family member’s health is at stake.

So it was with a great deal of excitement that I recently found myself planning a trip with Carl’s cousin while Carl was to stay at home under the watchful eyes of Scott, Greg, and the neighbors. The purpose of the trip was to try to convince a gentleman I’d never met to give up a DNA sample to solve a long-standing Atkins family mystery.

Cousin Pat would be dropped off shortly after noon on a Saturday, we would spend the night with my friends, Karen and Rick, in North Carolina, proceed on our way, and drive back home on the following Thursday.

I decided to pack the car and back it into the driveway in order to make a fast getaway when Pat arrived. All was well until I backed out and heard an ominous CRUNCH. I pulled forward, got out of the car, looked around, saw nothing out of the ordinary, and backed out again. CRUNCH. I pulled forward again, walked all around the car this time and realized I had attempted to go through the garage door with the back car door open. Twice. There was no way that car door was going to shut and neither was the garage door. Meanwhile, Pat called to say she was ten minutes away.

What to do?????

First I reluctantly told Carl. Let’s just say my news did not get a warm reception.

Second I called Scott who said he would be right over. He came and decided he would be able to fix the garage door and make the car door close if he had the right tools so off to his house he went.

Pat and her husband arrived to find Carl in a very unforgiving mood.

Scott came back with his tools. I decided we would take the other car because we didn’t have time to wait for Scott’s repair if we wanted to make it to North Carolina before dark. We took everything out of Car #1 and put it into Car #2. Carl reminded me I would have to gas up............if I could manage to miss the gas pumps.

Just as we got Car #2 loaded, Scott announced that the door was closed and all he had to do was apply some “NASCAR tape” so we wouldn’t be annoyed by wind whistle while on the trip. That’s my son - trying to introduce a little humor into this touchy situation. He proceeded to tape the window. His intended humor fell on deaf ears.

I then decided to take Car #1 after all because it doesn’t use premium gas and I wouldn’t have to bother to gas up before North Carolina (while managing to miss the gas pumps). Pat’s husband patiently took everything out of one trunk and reloaded it into the other while Carl wondered aloud if any of us had ever watched “The Three Stooges.”

Off we went with no further mishaps. When we were approximately half an hour from our North Carolina destination, Pat observed that our overhead lights were on. I said Scott probably turned them on while he was messing with the car and I would turn them off when we arrived rather than fooling with them while driving.

We arrived as planned, got a warm welcome with lots of hugs, and then I discovered THE OVERHEAD LIGHTS WOULD NOT GO OUT. After reading the manual which was no help at all, and pushing every imaginable button with no results, Rick finally got the lights to go out. What a relief!

Dinner was lovely and so was our visit. At 11:30 p.m. we decided we’d better call it a day so we went out to retrieve our luggage. The overhead lights came back on and this time it was apparent they were on to stay. Rick’s suggestion was to get up every two hours and run the engine for awhile in order to keep the battery from going dead. Since I couldn't imagine doing that for one night, not to mention several days and nights, I bit the bullet and called Carl. He said the only solution was to disconnect the negative battery cable every time we stopped the car - except for short stops.

Here is where I must admit I have never opened the hood of a car and Rick was familiar with only Chevrolets. Half an hour later, the hood was open, Rick had found a perfect small wrench, and disconnected the battery cable, promising to lend me the wrench and give me lessons before we proceeded on our way in the morning. Karen provided us with a piece of cardboard to put between the cable and the battery to keep the two from inadvertently touching. After our morning lesson, I was in charge of unhooking and rehooking. Pat was in charge of cardboard. Thus prepared, off we went.

By the end of our trip, I became an expert at hood opening and battery cables and Pat became an expert at inserting cardboard. We made quite a team. She would also be an expert at hood opening and battery cables if I had allowed her to practice. Maybe next time.

The good news is that Carl missed me so much after a couple of days that he got his good nature back. The better news is that Scott fixed the garage door before he went home the first night and he & Greg recommended replacing the car door with one from the junk yard since both of them are experts at car restoration. In all honesty, this may have been part of the reason Carl’s good nature came back. The even better news is that Scott fixed the overhead lights the day after I returned home and he has now replaced the car door.

And the best news of all is that Pat and I managed to convince a very nice gentleman to give two relative strangers a sample of his DNA although he was extremely reluctant to do so in the beginning. And I am really hoping this stranger proves to be a relative. Mission accomplished!

But that’s another story.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Country Roads, Take Me Home


"Almost heaven, West Virginia. This is the way I feel about my native state. This song takes me there.

On certain summer mornings when conditions are just right, mists from the river far below rise to the mountaintops and create a soft, silvery light. This is the memory I have painted."

I wrote these words as a result of having to do a painting of a favorite song for an upcoming art exhibit entitled The Music in Me.

After rejecting such favorites as Chopin's Nocturne in E Flat, Crazy by Patsy Cline, and Beethoven's Adagio as too difficult to paint, I was in a real quandary. I could have done such things as Heartbreak Hotel by Elvis Presley or Yellow Submarine by the Beatles in a heartbeat but they weren't among my favorites. Likewise such songs as You Ain't Nothin' But A Hound Dog and Jambalaya. I thought of my Dad's favorites, Wildwood Flower and Red River Valley but decided not many members of the current generation would recognize them. I briefly considered Moonlight Sonata and Moon River but no inspiration struck.

I was stuck. Then I watched a PBS special on John Denver and suddenly everything clicked. What could be more perfect than Country Roads, Take Me Home? I love the song and, after all, I am from West Virginia.

The painting you see above is my interpretation of John Denver's song. I painted it with a very limited palette: Yellow, purple, blue, umber, and white. Then, at the end I used a splash of red for the shirt.

If you live in the Atlanta area, you are invited to the opening reception at Tannery Row on October 16 from 6:00 to 9:00 p.m. The address is 554 West Main Street, Building C, Buford, GA.

Monday, July 19, 2010

For Want Of A Nail



OUR NEW FLAT SCREEN TV

For want of a nail the shoe was lost.
For want of a shoe the horse was lost.
For want of a horse the rider was lost.
For want of a rider the battle was lost.
For want of a battle the kingdom was lost.
And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.

The Atkins family recently experienced a modern-day example of the above situation.

We have been in the market for a new TV for quite awhile now. Our current TV belonged to my mother for a long time before she passed away in 1999. It is showing signs of fatigue.

After a long winter and spring of medical situations that have kept us mostly at home, we finally felt like shopping last Sunday. So after researching the many various options available for flat screen TVs, off we went to our favorite Best Buy store.

The sales associate was wonderful and, with his help, we chose a 40" Samsung LED TV that totaled out to $998.99. The helpful sales associate told us about a current offer of free delivery and set-up on purchases of $999.00 and above. Since it was only a penny difference, he was certain we could take advantage of that offer. I always dread having to program new TVs so this was great news. But the computer wouldn't accept it.

After a consultation with his manager, he came back to regretfully tell us that his manager said, "If the computer won't take it, we can't do it." It was such a ludicrous decision that we promptly walked out of the store without buying the TV or the external hard drive we had also planned to purchase for my new I-MAC computer. And I fumed all the way home that any manager worth the title could make such a stupendously poor decision.

After a great deal of thought, I decided that I should listen to what I always preached to my former employees at IBM: "Management can't know all of the problems unless you tell them. Don't complain if you haven't taken the time to tell the person who has the power to fix the problem and given him or her the opportunity to solve it."

So, on Monday morning, I went to speak with the Best Buy store manager. I explained to him that we have been satisfied Best Buy customers for more than fifteen years, that his store had lost over $1,100 in sales the previous day and that we had almost become ex-Best Buy customers because of a penny.

Needless to say, the problem was taken care of. I was escorted to the hard-drive department where I was given all the support I needed to purchase the correct drive. We then visited the TV department where my order was entered with a delivery cost of one penny ($998.99 plus .01 = $999.00). I purchased an extended warranty, bringing my total expenditure to a little more than $1,300.00. Best Buy is happy. We are happy. And I was thanked profusely for giving them a second chance. Our new TV was delivered and set up shortly afterward.

Concerning the manager who made such a stupendously poor decision? I'm perfectly sure he has learned a very important life lesson.

For want of a penny a customer was lost.

For want of a customer a sale was lost.............You get the drift.

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

The Male Mind

Sometimes I really do wonder how the male mind works.

Out of the blue a few days ago, my darling husband asked me if crossword puzzles are getting easier. "Not that I've noticed," I replied. He brought it up again the next morning so I asked why he was suddenly interested in the difficulty of crossword puzzles.

Carl: "Because I've noticed that you can work practically any crossword puzzle you pick up."

OPEN MOUTH; INSERT FOOT!!!!!!!

Sallie: "Apparently it didn't occur to you that you are married to a well-read, intelligent woman who has a large vocabulary and can spell practically any word that has ever been written?"

Apparently it didn't.


P.S. I'm waiting for him to notice that I sometimes work them in ink.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Have A Nice Day

Moving from Ohio to North Carolina in the 1980s was quite an experience for Carl and me.

We knew it was beautiful and our winters would be much milder.

Since we'd heard about Southern hospitality all of our lives, we anticipated making new friends quickly.

We didn't anticipate having to learn a new language.

We arrived in Raleigh in March amidst the most glorious flowering landscape we'd ever seen. We thought we were going to melt by the first of June. It was HOT! And I do mean daily, relentlessly, and everlastingly HOT till after the middle of September. Fall lasted till mid-December though and, sure enough, snow was so unusual that schools and businesses sometimes closed in anticipation when not a single snowflake had fallen.

But where were all those friendly people we'd heard about? We couldn't find anyone who wanted to go beyond "Y'all come and see me sometime; hear?" No patio parties, no getting together after work, and no invitations to dinner. Nothing beyond an initial introduction. We did, however, quickly learn about The Wo-ah of Nawthen Aggression and how those nasty Yankees had stolen Great-Great-Aunt Tillie's silverware.

As for that new language? We drove all over the area looking for Marsville and couldn't find it. Turned out to be Morrisville. I looked all over IBM for someone named Leon Hennison. Turned out to be Henderson. Someone yelled, "Hey Sallie!" in the hall one day and I answered, "What?" I thought they wanted something.

We eventually got used to having people carried somewhere and dogs hasslin' but we never did quite wrap our minds around people getting up with us. "Bye" was replaced by "Have a nice day." And we eventually made good friends, although it took a lot longer than we expected. I freely admit that telling people our ancestors were originally from Virginia while keeping our West Virginia and Ohio roots firmly in the background might have had something to do with that in certain circles.

Last week, one of our Atlanta columnists wrote an article about appreciating small things and I suddenly realized what "Have a nice day" really means. Last Friday I read the newspaper and had morning coffee with my husband of many years. I painted till 1:00 p.m. with my Southern Colours artist friends. Late lunch at my favorite Mexican restaurant with my husband, son and grandson was delightful. A brief nap was interrupted by a call from a wonderful friend and that segued into an impromptu visit from our next-door neighbor. All of a sudden it was 6:00 p.m. and only two hours were left before a TV program I was looking forward to called "Who Do You Think You Are." It's about genealogy - one of my favorite things to do.

I hereby want all of my native North Carolina friends to know that I finally get it.

I had a nice day.

Monday, March 15, 2010

Inspiration Strikes!




……………..But execution isn't always as easy as one might imagine.

Most artists find inspiration lurking around every corner, including yours truly. It seems there is a painting everywhere we look. Well, almost everywhere.

Our Southern Colours Art Association is notorious for finding ways of challenging each other to stretch just a little bit beyond our usual capabilities. Last fall, we decided to paint BIG self-portraits. One of my previous blogs includes a picture of me with my very large (3 foot X 4 foot) blank canvas just waiting to be filled with a very large me.

I was inspired! Without even trying, an image filled my mind, complete with a title: "Different Time, Different Place, Same Face." I envisioned a painting of myself as a child in the background and myself as I am today in the foreground. I could hardly wait to begin. I would first do the painting at one-half the size just to make sure my composition was correct and my theory would translate to an exciting painting.

And then the first roadblock reared its ugly head: I had no suitable current picture of myself and I couldn't ask anyone to come and take pictures because Carl and I both had succumbed to what was probably the worst cold and flu either of us have ever experienced.

Mistake #1. I tried to paint when I really felt like just lying in bed.

Mistake #2. I started with little Sallie Anne in the background when I didn't have the second picture to work from.

Mistake #3. I tried taking pictures of myself in the mirror.

Mistake #4. The only halfway presentable one (see above) was taken in our bathroom on a day when I was wearing no make-up and hadn't done anything with my hair. In addition to that, the color was terrible. Since it was the only photo I could possibly work with, I decided to use it.

The first thing I discovered was that little Sallie Anne was way too big and way too bright. Nevertheless, I forged ahead to:

Mistake #5. Trying to make a composition work that was wrong from the very beginning.

After finally recovering from my ailments, I took my half-finished painting to Southern Colours for a critique. Little Sallie Anne would have to be toned down. The more I worked, the more she looked like someone who had died and come back to life as a very sickly ghoul. I decided to take her out, thereby destroying my original inspiration, including the potential title. I forged ahead with the painting of Big Sallie Anne.

Above you see the half-finished painting. The crowning blow was that it was storming that day and, before I could close the trunk lid, rain blew in and spattered the whole thing. Was it God telling me to just give it up?

Whatever it was, I haven't touched it since. There it sits in my make-do studio, looking at me. Two guests have noticed it and commented favorably on big Sallie Anne while little Sallie Anne stares forlornly over her shoulder gathering sympathy. No one, however, has suggested keeping her in the painting.

So should I drag it out and work on it some more? Or should I just chalk it up as a lesson learned?

By the way, my very big canvas has already been filled with the image of my face that you saw in my previous post about that same blank canvas. I didn't happen to be wearing make-up that day either. But that's another story.


Sunday, January 3, 2010

It's A Whole New Year!


Remember Snickerdoodles?

They won a Betty Crocker baking contest way back when and an entire generation of children grew up eating Snickerdoodles.

Lilburn, Georgia, began the new year with unusually cold temperatures. It was 18 degrees when we woke up this morning. Brrrrrrr. This is how Snickerdoodles once again entered our household after a hiatus of at least thirty years.

We decided that a wonderful way to spend the day would be to light the fireplace and sit and enjoy it while Carl read the new book he got for Christmas and I began my cross stitch of "Santa Of The Forest" - a project that will probably take until next Christmas to finish.

Perhaps because Christmas cookies were very scarce in our household this year, Carl decided he would like cookies he remembered from a long time ago - thin, crisp, and had cinnamon on them. It had to be Snickerdoodles.

I found the original recipe on the Internet and unexpectedly spent an hour in the kitchen. Santa Of The Forest was put on hold for a while but what better way to start off the new year than pleasing your husband by recreating a memory?

Happy New Year, everyone.