Girls' Night

I think I'm southern now. I had grits and biscuits and gravy with my omelet this morning, at a place called the Moose Cafe, served by a woman in camo boots who called me honey. We went this morning after girls' night. It started at a sports bar so we could eat wings and watch the MSU game. I didn't even know MSU was in a game. Amy's much-older sugar daddy showed up to join us. I need to get me one of them. Then we went to their house for a night of ping pong, movie, margs, hiding our noses from the dog's farts, and me saying things like, "Naked pillow fight time!" That's what girls do at girls' night, right? They watch movies and then they have, like, tub time. No? We all slept in one bed, like the Three Stooges, plus a big snoring dog.

Visit from SC

Miss Bobbie and cousin Michael came for a couple nights. We had fun as usual. We played my new favorite game, "What's that smell?" where we try to figure out what reeks in the fridge. Michael won (it was cheese). Yesterday we drove to Black Mountain, traipsed through the mud at the home site, and had lunch in town.


For Christmas Miss Bobbie gave me, among other things, Puffs and a Shelton Fireworks shirt. (Shelton is their maiden name. We're a little bit country. Although there's also a Shelton vineyard not too far from here, so I like to think it balances out.)


Me with my skinhead cousin Michael and Miss Bobbie, just down the drive from the home site.


We usually have lunch at the Veranda Cafe in Black Mountain. It's very cute.


A town with a view.

Christmas and After

Christmas was good, but not the same without Peewee and Grandma. In the morning we opened presents (see below for my favorites), then Amy and Cheri came over in the afternoon for dinner. I forced Cheri to take the career test I made, because she's having a quarter-life crisis. Then Amy and I came up with career ideas. I'm sure it was life-changing. We had a lot of fun and wine and Amy collapsed on the floor a lot (although she made sure to tell me it was because of the laughing, not the wine).

Today my mom and I drove through Biltmore Forest, the neighborhood in Asheville where Andie MacDowell lives. I was hoping we'd run into her so I could ask her why she hasn't made a good movie since Multiplicity (hahaha), and so I could tell her we saw her when she was in England filming Crush, aka, I can't believe how awful this movie is. We're practically friends. Then we went downtown in search of boots, because I've been jonesin' for some western boots. Turns out good ones are like $400. Where do cowboys get that kind of money? Later my mom showed me the Grove Park Inn, because I gave them a GPI gift certificate for Christmas, but had never seen the place. It's a beautiful old stone lodge up on a hill overlooking the city and the mountains.



Harvey in the Christmas tent.


Charlie in the Christmas tent.


Cheri taking her career test (with a Hooters pen—it was a good test).




The Grove Park Inn


These are my favorite gifts:


From my mom—a lotion applicator. Now I can throw away my sunscreen paint roller.


From my grandma—a fork and spoon cat sculpture. This completes my collection.


The pièce de résistance from my grandma—a winter car kit, including:
1 half-eaten bag of granola bars
1 pair of gloves
1 mini bottle of wine, in case I can't wait until I get home to have a drink after work, or in case I get stuck in a snow bank and need something to calm m'nerves
1 porta john
2 packs of gum in case I get stuck in a snow bank and don't want the paramedics to find me with bad breath
5 packs of Kleenex, to be used as Kleenex or in conjunction with the porta john, I'm not sure which
1 compass
1 tiny pencil to write "Help me" when I'm stuck in a snow bank
1 pack of hand warmers

Day Trip

Yesterday we took a drive on the Blueridge Parkway headed for Devil's Courthouse, from which you can see four states, but the road was closed at one point, so we had to turn around. Instead we went to Looking Glass Falls and Sliding Rock in/near the Pisgah National Forest. In the summer people slide down the rock in the rushing river water.

Last night I went downtown with Amy and Cheri. We were driving past the civic center and Amy saw that they had ice skating. So we dragged Cheri in and "forced" her to have fun (she loved it). I didn't fall, but Amy did save my life once, and I almost crushed a little girl.

Today we had lunch at a sushi place downtown, then walked around a bit so Nick could see Asheville. There are a lot of homeless people downtown, and a lot of people playing music on corners. We walked by a junkie couple sitting on a bench, and the man was crying about something. Then when we walked by again, he was yelling at the woman and called her a "Christmas whore." Merry Christmas, everyone!



Tunnel on the Parkway.






Looking Glass Falls




Sliding Rock






This is my favorite building downtown.

A Christmas Miracle

Well, I didn't think I'd make it to Asheville last night. My fear almost came true! I almost got stuck in Detroit and had to live in the terminal. My flight to Detroit was delayed an hour because of the fog, and the gate agent said I wouldn't make my connecting flight. So I called Aunt Lou and Uncle John in Livonia and begged them to take me for the night. Then I got on the flight and the flight to Asheville ended up being delayed about an hour. It was a Christmas miracle. We landed in Detroit and I ran from Terminal A to Terminal C, through the rave tunnel. Remember the scene in Home Alone where they're running through the airport to "Run, Run Rudolph"? One of the stores was playing that song as I ran by. So I got to the gate and NO ONE was there. The monitor said, "Asheville, departs 10:17." This was about 9:30. I thought, Oh, everyone must be wandering around since we have so much time left. Then the gate agent showed up and was like, "You have to get on the plane NOW." Apparently no one was at the gate because everyone was ON THE PLANE. Meanwhile my stepbrother Nick shows up, casually sipping a Starbucks, and says, "But it says 10:17?" And the woman is like, "Do you want to stand here and argue, or do you want to get on the plane?" So Nick and I were the last two on the plane, and HE was the one who almost missed the flight and had to stay with John and Lou. I thought for sure my luggage wouldn't make it and I'd have to wear my sweaty-running-through-the-airport clothes two days in a row, but it was another Christmas miracle. Until they get a direct flight from Chicago to Asheville, I'm flying direct to Greenville and making Miss Bobbie pick me up (she doesn't know this yet). No more of this connecting business.

Today we went to a potluck lunch at the Creston community center in Black Mountain. They served Sloppy Joes. It was just us and one other full-time Creston resident and the Creston sales people. Apparently they've spotted a bob cat at Creston. I really want to see some exciting wildlife. After lunch we drove down to see the waterfall and the moonshine shack.



Me and Nick arriving in Asheville.

The home site in Black Mountain. They've done a lot more since I saw it at Thanksgiving.

I LOVE the moonshine shack.


Nick sneaking some moonshine.


Allison Falls at Creston.


I said I wanted a picture of me and Nick so I could tell everyone he's my boyfriend.


One of the foot bridges to the falls.




Farnsworth holding the umbrella over Robert while he cooks the ribs with a flashlight on his forehead.

Christmas in the South

I leave tomorrow evening for Asheville and I won't be back until the 1st. That leaves plenty of time for cat dancing. My fear is that I'll get snowed in in Detroit and have to live in the airport like Tom Hanks in that movie no one saw. At least I'd have that psychedelic rave tunnel to keep me busy.

My step-brother Nick is coming from Toronto, and we're on the same plane out of Detroit. I think we're sitting together. Our travel agent (Robert) booked our flights. He and my mom ruined the fun by telling us. I've always dreamed of a surprise like that.

I'm sure I'll be writing from Asheville, what with all the free time. My mom said something about Nick and I hauling rocks up the hill. I don't know what that's all about, but I am not interested.

Brendan bought me Sideways (the book) for the plane ride. I think he's trying to trick me into reading by giving me a book about wine. After fifty pages I'll say, "Wait a minute... Am I reading?"

I just dared Jim to put "team snowman-building exercise" in the suggestion box and he did. Jim will pretty much do anything I dare him to do. I could say, "I dare you to do all my work" or, "I dare you to bring me a piece of cake. And a fork! I dare you not to forget a fork!" and he'd be like, "You know I can't pass up a good dare!"

December on the lake

And Peewee in the sun:

Dancing With Cats

Today I received an unexpected Christmas gift from my friend Nick (also my mom's friends' son), so of course I opened it right away. It's a book called Dancing With Cats, and as far as I can tell, it's not a joke, even though it's full of pictures like this:

Apparently there's a whole WORLD of cat dancing out there. These are exciting times for cat owners! Did you know cat dancing is an ancient art? And that it cures depression and makes people more outgoing? And that there are people who actually teach cat dancing? At least in New Zealand, where these two nutjob authors are from. This is what they say in the introduction: "We will probably never know for sure why cats dance with us. We do know that some kind of energy is released in the process that can have a profound effect on human beings and probably on cats as well."

This is what one cat dancer says about her cat: "He's a Scorpio and I have the sun in Pisces, so there's a good deal of karmic support. Also our auras usually match, and numerologically we're both Eights, which makes for a strong psychic bond." I don't understand what any of those words are, but I think I found my new winter hobby.

Neighborhoods

This weekend was mellow, following Friday night when I went to Goose Island brewery with Colleen and Brendan. I mixed my drinks, then the next day I thought I was going to die. If I could leave one piece of advice for the next generation after I die, it would be "Don't mix your drinks."

Today I neighborhood hopped with Russelle. We had lunch in Andersonville, hot toddies in Lakeview, snowball fight and a play in Lincoln Park. Russelle's roommate is the stage manager of a show called Forbidden Broadway, so we got in for free. It makes fun of all the big Broadway shows. It was funny, but I didn't get most of the jokes. Because if given the option to see, like, the Lion King or NOT to see the Lion King, I would choose not.

Spider Jazz (dot com)

Last night Brendan and I braved the weather to see our coworker Jim play jazz piano with a singer named Spider Saloff at a cozy placed called Katerina's. We got there and pushed ourselves through a huge party—everyone wearing name tags—that turned out to be a singles meet-up. No wonder they all stared at us when we walked in. We were going to sit at the bar, then noticed the tiny tables-for-two right by the stage and had to sit there. We shared a bottle of wine and some snackies (I made sure to tell Jim we're not dating). Spider Saloff was a character. She reminded me of Carrie Fisher (now, not 70s) and had, like, three martinis going at once. I made Brendan dance with me to a song Spider had written for an off-Broadway show that she starred in, then was later replaced by drag queen Charles Busch. It turned out to be the longest song in the world and we were the only ones dancing. I kept whispering, "Does this song ever end?" At one point I turned around and realized that the singles had left and the place was empty, except for us and a table full of Spider's friends. After their set, Jim sat with us and we griped about how much we hate our jobs and the people we work with. Spider came over to meet us and I really wanted to ask her to sign my chest. How can you NOT ask a 50 year-old woman named Spider to sign your chest? Then Jim had to go home to the wife, and Brendan and I stayed to watch the salsa band and I made him dance with me again.

Thanksgiving in Asheville

First of all, this is my "bedroom"—the alcove in the hallway. Like I always say, "There's no reason to make your bed if you're sleeping in the hallway."


The view from the deck at the rental house.


The sisters "accidentally" dressed alike on Thanksgiving.


New shirt from Cheri and Amy. Flag from Cancun/Miss Bobbie.


Thanksgiving dinner. My mom ruined this picture with her Popeye impression. And people wonder why I'm weird.


Cut to: Black Mountain. Here I am in my future bedroom at Creston, the development where the new house is. Over there is where my bed will go. That wall over there will be the velcro wall. And that corner over there is where the dumbwaiter will go, so my mom can send me hoagies and malts from the hoagie and malt shoppe upstairs.




My mom and I demonstrating the layout of the new bathroom.


Robert's "secret view" from down the hill. To the tune of "Secret Love" from Calamity Jane: "And my secret view's no secret anymore."


On the carport.


Miss Bobbie, Robert, mom, stepbrother Dave


This cabin on Creston's property was built by the groundskeeper and his friends when they were teenagers so they could have a place to drink moonshine.




Robert drove us up this road that had holes and bumps and made the car smell like burning rubber, just so we could see the local swimmin' hole. Later we found out it's supposed to be a walking trail.


View from Creston.


The Creston community center at the top of the mountain.




Dancing to the Eagles.


I don't know, I think they were disco-ing.


Amy in the middle of her laughing fit.


We went for a short hike at the Pisguh National Forest. I think. I don't know where I was.




Then we played tackle football at the high school and Cheri let/made me wear her Asheville Police Department sweats. We had some good plays, like Amy's brilliant plan: "Okay, run right up to Cheri and pants her, then go to the right" (it didn't work; Cheri was on to us). I kept blaming my exhaustion on my bad heart, because I had been told before my trip that I might have an old woman's heart. So I was like, "Oh, guys, I better play quarterback again this time. You know, my heart..." But I had a stress test yesterday and it turns out I'm fine.


Cheri and I enjoying our beer and bacon 'n' cheese fries (haha) at Gusmo's Mojo Cafe. (Cheri didn't give me permission to post this, but Cheri, I love this picture. Even more than the one of me fake-pooping over a hole in the ground.)


These two goofballs surprised me with these T-shirts. I was touched. I think they wear them every day under their clothes.




Fog over the Blueridge Parkway.




We tried to go to the Linn Cove Viaduct, which is the most complicated concrete bridge ever built, according to the builders of the Linn Cove Viaduct, but the road to the visitors' center was closed. So we turned around and went to Linville Falls. Of course I fell and bruised my back in the first five minutes, but luckily no one saw.