Scout About

I’m nervous, excited, scared, hopeful and nauseated at the same time and it’s not just because I consumed a ton of peanut butter-filled Oreo cookies last night before bed. But on that same note, I did just hear on the telly that a girl sold a record 17,328 boxes of Girl Scout cookies. Normally, that would make me smile but right now it just makes me cringe.

Anyway, I’m feeling all of the above mentioned emotions because my favorite boy band of all time, the one I bought all the dolls of, attended a concert to see once and wrote literally dozens of letters to has reunited and will be performing on The Today Show. They keep showing clips of their former glory days and people out in the crowd who look to be about my age are singing pieces of their old songs as soon as the camera pans in front of them for even a second.

Yessirree. It’s THE boy band of the ’80s and ’90s. The one I still believe (for reasons of pride) newer groups cannot hold a candle to. In only a few minutes, the New Kids on the Block will take the stage and, if you just so happen to be in my neck of the woods and hear a rousing, screaming rendition of “Step by Step,” “Hangin’ Tough,” or “The Right Stuff,” rest assured it’s probably me.

Something has really been depressing me lately and I decided that, rather than hide it yet again, I’d bring it out into the open. Mostly because I know (and hope) I can’t possibly be the only person feeling this way right now.

I need some advice. Or maybe I just need some motivation. Okay. I really just need a big hug. Lots of them.

Over the past few months, good news has been coming in at a whirlwind pace for many of my friends. A few of my good friends are now engaged. Two of them, in fact, are getting married today (Congrats Killa and Freezertroll!) and another couple are getting married in late July. Some more good friends are getting ready to welcome new additions into the family and a few more are getting ready to relocate with new jobs and new paths to travel. This is all wonderful news. It’s incredible news. But, at the same time, I can’t help but feel like the little sister tearfully waving goodbye from the house doorstep while her family speeds down the road to bigger things.

Drawing and coloring in the maps was the fun part of geography class. Identifying the features came later. Learning how to follow the map, with time, was a way to blaze new trails and show off what you learned. But, building your own map? Well, that’s something much more difficult to pick up on because it involves making your own features, your own roads and your own decisions.

I’m 26 now. I love the guy I’m dating and I love my friends, but at the same time, I’m sad that so many people have learned the craft of map building and might just forget someone who needs a bit of extra help in that subject. I never struggled in school. I’ve never made anything less than an A, but I feel like I’m failing in this all-important subject of life.

 Do I want to get married? No. But maybe one day. Do I want to have kids? No. But possibly in the future. Do I want to move away and maybe try going back to school for another degree? Yes, soon. But right now, I enjoy sledding in the snow down huge hills. I enjoy going fishing and having the fish pull me around the pond. I enjoy going to local shows, festivals, hangouts, ballgames and driving ranges. I enjoy sitting on porches, reading books, talking to friends about most anything. I still cry at “Old Yeller” and get a big pink moustache after drinking too much Strawberry Crush.

That’s me. That’s who I am. And, in a way, I never want to leave the child inside me behind. 

I still enjoy coloring the map and learning the features of it. In a few years, I’ll get out some blank paper and draw a new one when I’m good and ready.

Until then, please don’t forget me. Don’t leave me behind.

Now, can I have a hug? 

Guess where I’m headed this Sunday. Go ahead. Guess.

This will be my third year in a row to go. That’s clue number one.

It happens every third Sunday in May. There’s another clue.

Despite the fact that it’s delightful and the people are wonderful, I can’t help but feel as if I’ve stepped into another world. That should give it away right there.

I’m headed back into the backwoods to Old Trinity to partake of the annual Episcopalian homecoming! (big nod to Lynnster)

Picture it. Lawn chairs surrounding oak trees and tables and tables full of main dishes, desserts and coolers filled with drinks of all varieties and I do mean ALL varieties. In the background, I’m munching on fried chicken, making comparisons of this particular species of church homecoming to my church’s brand of homecoming and sipping on a Coke while I gaze over at the priest and all the members of the church smiling at each other, discussing Revelations and getting (in my opinion) preposterously sloshed. “It’s the only way we can really discuss the book of Revelations,” they tell me. Maybe so.

Later on, we visit the cemetery and a friend’s cake’s grave. Long ago at a particular homecoming, my friend made her famous chocolate cake and brought it to the event and apparently, as soon as the guests began digging in, they made the most horrendous faces and became ill. Well, as soon as the priest made a face, my friend’s mother rushed to her daughter’s defense, chided the priest, took a bite of the cake and puckered up more than anyone else. It was later discovered that the baking soda in the freezer had gone horribly bad and had sucked up the taste of old frozen fish and transferred it over to the chocolate cake. But, when all was said and done, the cake was given a proper burial.

Gotta love those Episcopalians and their homecomings.    

One of my favorite pictures and luckily, he had no reason to come after me after I took it because I didn’t pack the giant attachable flashbulb that is now all the rage for cell phone cameras.

To one of my favorite actresses ever!

She passed away a few years ago without my getting to meet her as I always wanted, but I’m honoring the memory of the Great Kate today and every May 12.

Picture credit.

No doubt, you’re very familiar with Bigfoot. You’ve probably heard many tales of the abominable snowman and the Loch Ness monster. Chances are, you might even have heard of the giant mega cabbage grown by a local’s frequent urination and the Super Storm Shelter.

But, have you ever feasted your eyes on the elusive, the mysterious, the half-pesca, half-monster image of the Ghost Cat???

Lurking in a local pond, the Ghost Cat — half feline fish, half direct descendant of Nessie — preys on fishermen brave enough to cast their lines into his territory. Just one glance into his devilish eyes of death can make mince meat of any ordinary novice of a fisherman, but this past Saturday, BF bravely threw his line into the haunted waters, landed the legendary whiskered spook and now lives to tell the tale.

Remember. You’ve been warned.

Wow. Has it really been a week since I’ve posted anything on here? Have I really been rolling around and wallowing in my New Orleans memories for so long I’ve neglected everything else? Yes and yes. I must confess, I’m still washing the heavenly scent of crawfish off my fingers and pulling bits of beads out of my hair. But in the nearly two weeks since I visited the Crescent City, many great things have been happening around me right here at home.

1. There’s no denying my sister Elizabeth has had more than her fair share of terrible luck lately. The girl should definitely think about purchasing a bicycle and staying away from motorized vehicles. But, something wonderful and unexpected happened the other day to give her a rare smile.

A few months ago, E had to deal with a very unruly patient who made her feel terrible. She came home crying and vowed never to treat him again if she could avoid it. But he kept coming back to the CCU and she kept having to put up with him and his terrible attitude. Well, this past week, the patient, who works for a local newspaper, wrote up a glowing editorial praising the entire CCU staff and even mentioning E by name, calling her a sweetheart. 

2. My aunt had her mastectomy and the doctors found zero spread of the cancer to the lymph nodes!!! She came home and I made her a casserole and it turned out very very well. Yeehaw!

3. We are currently working up the ground to start this year’s garden. I can’t wait! This year, I’m going to make it a little bit bigger and try to hopefully track its progress a little better than last year. I’m going out on a limb and trying lima beans again and this time, I think I’ll pass on the bell peppers and just plant jalapenos to avoid the bells zapping all the fire out of the jalas. Seriously, they’ll do that. I promise to document the planting with pictures and, of course, there will be pictures throughout the growing season.

4. Dixie continues to improve every day. She’s back to singing again, but she’s still afraid to jump and she will never lose the limp she runs with sometimes. But man, am I glad to have my little doggy back alive and well!

5. Since I’ve gotten back from N.O., I’ve taken up something I never thought I’d ever attempt. Golf. Not mini golf, mind you, but full-fledged 18-hole wind up and let er rip madness. BF is helping me and he’s a very wonderful and patient teacher and should join the PGA tour, but right now, I throw a party if I can manage to loft the ball up in the air and not on the ground which I’m currently referring to as “golf bowling.” I’ve gotten some practice balls and have hit quite a few good ones today, but I still have to look around the course/range to make sure no one’s looking at me before I take a swing.

6. Ever seen any of these before?

It’s a corn holder!! It’s the perfect size to hold your corn on the cob! A very cute and clever invention if I do say so myself.

Feel free to add happiness to the list. The more the merrier!

Because a good friend of mine just got some hard-earned great news!

It’s Feist! And I can’t think of a better way to celebrate this great news than by beating fireworks out of barrels!

Congrats, friend!!!

Though I split the drive in half on the way down here, I have no choice but to get up today, leave this wonderful city and drive the entire way back to reach Hooterville in time for Monday morning’s happenings. Leaving early, of course, is a must, but before I get back onto I-10, I make one last round of Jackson Square to pick up some souvenirs and while I’m walking, I give my sister a call to notify her that I’m planning on getting on the road sometime in the next hour.

Well, my sister has even more important news for me. The night before, they had to take my brother to the emergency room because he drank this extremely caffeinated drink and, as he has never handled caffeine well, it was causing his heart rate to speed up and his blood pressure to skyrocket to the point that he couldn’t breathe and was going numb. They fixed him right up, though, but I’m beginning to wonder……My sister had a fender bender about two weeks ago and my brother went to the emergency room yesterday. Is it my turn now? Suddenly the road home appears even more daunting. 

All the old familiar sights begin to flash before me: armadillos, exits, magnolia and palm trees and the exit to Canton which I must pass up this time. Ugh. No breakdowns.

As I’ve still yet to see a Starbucks anywhere, I call information and find one just off the interstate in Jackson, MS, so I pull off and grab my coffee there so my trip can truly be called complete.

Look!!! It’s a vintage!!!

Now, for anyone from my neck of the woods who is making the trip back home from New Orleans on I-55 and has reached Jackson, MS somehow thinking he or she has made some real progress and can now breathe a sigh of relief….um, don’t celebrate prematurely. Once you pass the capitol of the Magnolia State, you are soon met with a sign that mockingly says, “Nope, skippy, you’re still a good 200 miles from Memphis. Party’s over.” The magnolia trees lining the road that have been there since you got on the interstate are suddenly laughing at you, the armadillos rise from the dead to snicker and you wonder where in the world southern hospitality has gone.

But, seriously, you get through it and when you see the Welcome to Tennessee sign, you’ve never been happier to see a welcome sign in all your life.

About 130 miles later, Hooterville appears in the windshield and soon the familiar driveway and the familiar house and here comes the most difficult part of the whole process. The recovery. The coming down from the clouds, the touching back down to earth and the returning to normal form again.

Shockingly, it feels like getting over the flu. You ache and long to see the palm trees and the Quarter again. Your sinuses and allergies throw themselves a pity party because you’ve gone from 80 degrees to what seriously feels like about 60. You talk about the trip and relate certain especially bad and especially good instances to family members and friends, share pictures and show off collected treasures, but it really only serves to give you symptoms of withdrawal.

And then you realize. You just came from a city that, not too long ago, was placed on a heart monitor and oxygen and not given much of a chance to live again. For four days, you were a witness to a genuine miracle in the making. It’s still in the making because, as you noticed just to the right of your hotel, there’s still much work to be done, but it’s still a miracle.

New life abounds. A city. A Quarter. A wedding. A perspective. And giving it all the breath to keep going….new hope. Renewed dreams. Renewed beliefs. Enough to power the sinking city to rise again.

And I got to see it. I got to see a traditional New Orleans funeral take place right before my eyes. A city and its people who once had to bury much of the future under tears, fears and hopelessness were now hopping, skipping and jumping back from the cemetery singing ”The Saints” and preparing to live again.