What a great week! So many activities that it’s hard to keep up with the blogging. I am a bit tired, but as Letterman used to say, it’s the good kind of tired.
Read all about it and step inside the social circle
Tuesday – My neighbors and I went to dinner, the early dinner, of course. They noted that I was at home by 5 p.m. (unusual for me) so they made sure to include me in their 5:30 outing. They are always so genuinely interested in my goings-on and so caring about what is happening in my little neck of the woods. Sometimes their interest is particular to my patch of property and its current state.
This week the big headline is my deck. Toward the end of the dinner I realized (and commented) that maybe I should have gotten some kind of permit from the city or authorization from the homeowner’s association for this project. “Yes,” one of my neighbors said archly. But another suggested that (a) that’s the responsibility of the contractor and (b) there is no change of footprint or major cosmetic change, so it’s not under the association’s jurisdiction. I’m agreeing with her.
Wednesday – A couple from work and I went to see Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers at Philips Arena. This was such a stress-free concert outing, it just might spoil me. My friends drove and procured the tickets, which happened to be in a suite. This reduces the hassle by a factor of 100. Our parking was convenient, we had dinner in a luxury area, and the suite gave us a fair vantage point away from the masses. It’s a long way from the lawn at the World Music Theater in Tinley Park, Illinois, where I think I first saw TP.
I may have seen the Heartbreakers more than any other band and I do enjoy them every time. The most exciting was probably when the Replacements opened for them and Stan Lynch was still drumming with them. (I’m going to refrain from a Stan Lynch testimonial but I must report that it’s just not as good without him. “Refugee” remains a kick-ass song, but it’s less so without Stan at the drum kit.) The best story was when I met MG. The best view was when MCC and CHM and I got floor seats in Chicago.
The crowd at Philips Arena loved Petty. And why not? He’s been a solid draw for more than 30 years. People were standing and singing along to nearly every song. I kept thinking how smart the whole show was. He played a great mix of older songs, a heavy dose of “Full Moon Fever,” and buried the new stuff as a “mini-set” in the middle of the evening. Personally, I liked the new stuff; he sold me on the new disc.
I also thought about how good Petty looked, and how that was likely by design. He didn’t just pick out a yellow shirt, some fancy stylist determined that he looked good in yellow, so he sported a beautiful yellow shirt. The lighting was high-tech and the set-up was simple. He has this down to an art.
My poor colleagues had to endure my incessant yapping about TP on the drive home. They’d seen the documentary “Running Down a Dream” so they knew something about this history; my obsession probably was the biggest revelation. I would recommend that movie to anyone with even the slightest interest in Petty or the band. I guess the highest praise I could give is that even after all these years, all the times I’ve seen him, the concert made me want to sit up all night listening to all my TP albums. It really did.
Thursday – A group of women from work went bowling for charity. Only a fraction of the people who signed up actually attended. This was instructive for me because I’m going through a pouty phase caused by people saying they will attend social things and then backing out. The bowling event was not planned by me so I was less injured by people’s failure to show. It’s hard being the social secretary. I’m resigning from the position … after I organize a night at the ballpark for our workgroup.
Friday – When I first arrived in these parts, I sat next to a guy, WH, who was about to become a dad. I was counting the days until the arrival and have enjoyed hearing tales about the boy’s development. The baby is now 10 months old and I recently mentioned to WH how much I’d love to see the little one. So I got a nice invite to dinner. The minute WH’s wife opened the door, baby in her arms, the infant looked at me and burst into tears. What a welcome!
The storm was soon over and the baby turned out to be a sunny little guy with amazing dimples. He is about 20 minutes away from his first steps and was just a joy to be with. His parents moved here from Germany two years ago and at times had short side conversations in their native language. I kept pointing to objects and asked, “How do you say this in German?” Apparently the words for “ball” and “banana” sound the same in English and German, so I told them I learned two new German words during the evening.
German language and culture were the bulk of our discussion. “So what part of Germany are you from?” I asked. My colleague’s wife answered, “Schleswig-Holstein,” which sounded like it had about 47 syllables when she said it. I must have worn a strange expression because both she and her husband began to laugh.
I asked if the baby had any lederhosen yet, and they said, “Do you know what lederhosen means?” Turns out it means leather pants. Look it up! WH, a motorcycle enthusiast, joked that he has lederhosen, but none for the little one yet. It’s more of a Bavarian thing, he explained, and is a tradition that is dying out.
Fascinating discussion and wonderful food with a great family. And I am adding Germany to my “must visit” list.
Saturday – There is nothing I enjoy more than having a wonderful meal with a wonderful person in a
wonderful city. Tonight I ventured into Inman Park for a visit with LQ. She is about 10 years my senior but looks like she is 10 years my junior. She attributes it to a stress-free life. I laughed, but she said something to which I can really relate: “I don’t really have any stress! I have no husband, no kids, I had a happy childhood, I love my family, both of my parents are still around.” So true. I can say the same. I am so blessed.
I drove out of Inman Park, with its trendy eateries and lofts. I love seeing the skyline of the city and watching the traffic course around me. I passed Turner Field, with its giant Coca-Cola bottle. I turned southwest, drove alongside the airport, where jumbo jets used the interstate as a flight path. I kept going until my exit, continued into my quiet suburb and coasted into my cul-de-sac.
Tomorrow – the airport and home for a week.
Georgia Confidential 