Monday, September 25, 2006


Crazy Train (of thought)

The human brain starts working the moment you are born and never stops until you stand up to speak in public.

Who really cares whether or not Paris Hilton will copulate in the next year. I’m just hoping she doesn’t reproduce.

Jill, Laura, Allison and I spent some time together in a cozy little lodge on a lake where the kitchen served free spicy shrimp and grits at the bar during happy hour. I guess there was a limit to how much you could eat, ‘cuz they eventually told Laura to sit down and let others have a chance to stick their heads in the pot.

Jill navigated us to the lodge in her customary talented way, as in “Exit here,” a direction given to me at the last possible minute. I made the exit without sliding too far into the grass and rolled to a top at the end of the ramp. After a pause she looked at me with some irritation and asked, “Aren’t you turning?” “Right or left,” I asked. It seemed to be a relative question.

When watching the Bama game Saturday with Leland and Kristen we were told it was a low-key event. Reckon why every time Bama had the ball Leland was jumping up and down and hollering for Jesus to leave a stool sample?

Jill’s birthday is just around the corner; she’ll be 20-20. When I asked if she had any wishes for how to prepare her party, she made only one request. “Please get Princess a new dress.” I thought it was asking a bit much of me.

Marital Bliss

Saturday morning was Heaven with a scoop of ice cream. Jill and I slept late, had breakfast served in the room by room service, enjoyed a chilled bottle of champagne while reading the morning paper in bed, then sat a while in comfy robes on the balcony overlooking the lake. At one point she turned to me and said “Thank you for the life you have given me.” Jill, I thought it was you who gave it to me, hon.


Meagan went to the GA game in Athens with a few friends Saturday. It made me nervous, her driving with other teens in all that traffic for 50 miles to get there. I made her call me along the way to make sure they were still alive, a requirement she probably won’t understand until she has a teen on the road herself. Eventually they arrived and intended to have a pre-game tailgate party. Now at UGA that means anything and everything to eat - with beer, so I was somewhat concerned until I learned she was actually tailgating with my Uncle Stanley, a loyal season ticket holder and a responsible, law abiding adult. And then it occurred to me – it was Stanly who taught me at age 14 that fried chicken tasted better with beer.

Book Report

Early reports on sales of Simple Acts and Why We Are Friends are good. You should be able to find both in your favorite book store now. If you like them, please leave a review on either the Amazon or Barnes and Noble website. Every little bit of encouragement helps!

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