Author: LAT

the first taste is free

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A co-worker lent me his golf cart so I could give my recent visitors the true suburban experience. I live in a city that has more golf carts per capita or more miles of golf cart path per capita or some ridiculous stat like that.

Here's my stat: I am one of the less than 3% of residents who don't have a golf cart. I drive a hybrid car — which feels like driving a golf cart. And I'm probably the only person who answered a recent city survey question, "What can we do to improve the golf cart paths?" with the answer "Stop having golf carts on them, so it's easier for us walkers."

As you can tell, I am not in the golf cart spirit.

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aerial view

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We had an absolutely perfect day for a helicopter tour of Atlanta. We also had just the right guide, a bon vivant named Ken, who knew how to keep us laughing about the fact that we were getting INTO A HELICOPTER which would hurtle us through the air, above skyscrapers and over areas without soft landings, such as Georgia 400.

Yes, the helicopter ride had seemed like a good idea for a Mother’s Day gift, because the thing you probably don’t know about my mom is, she’s game for anything. I think once you’ve been on a multi-day station wagon odyssey with three small children, there is very little that scares you.

072 So we clambered into the helicopter, which seems remarkably small as you approach it. We clamped on the headsets so we could talk – or in my case, not talk but instead have an internal dialogue reminding myself that it was probably pretty unlikely that we were going to die. As the ground fell away I wondered if that MARTA station, quickly receding in size, would be my last view of this earth.

This happens to me during the first 30 seconds of any non-airplane ascent – a Ferris wheel, a glass elevator, all give me a short burst of panic. But my mom had settled in to the co-pilot’s seat – I don’t think I could have handled that – and Ken was beginning his barbed patter about the denizens and buildings of our fair city.

He explained why the King and Queen Buildings are named that (their tops resemble the chess pieces) and it was very cool to look down on that.  Ditto the Governor’s Mansion, and some of the big money houses near Buckhead (an area I don’t know at all!) We followed Georgia 400 down into Midtown, and I liked seeing these familiar buildings from a different vantage point.

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mapgirl dark secret #7

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I hate basketball. And I reserve a special disdain for college basketball.

Oh yes, you read that right. I seriously, deeply, thoroughly despise it. "Wake me when it's over," is one of my familiar quotes this time of year. "Hoops are for poops" is a mantra that I have taken up over years of NCAA worship in my childhood home.

So this weekend, the person I probably enjoy most in the world, my dad, is coming to visit. My brother just sent me a warning e-mail. 

Subject line: Hoops are for Poops

E-mail:  Pa is headed your way and he is addicted to college basketball.

I can see that whole commandment about honoring mothers and fathers will be sorely tested this weekend.

trifecta

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Three of my favorite people were born today.  I wonder what special stars were in the sky to bring these folks into the world:

VGM. The most recent friend, a rare gift in adulthood. Super sharp and focused, epitome of discipline. Also very fun, literate and grounded. Warning: do not use phrase "red headed stepchild" around her. One of the best things about Nashville.

EAN. Artistic and gentle. Steadfast. The same today as she was 30 years ago when we were teenagers. Sickening, really.

My mom.  Other-oriented and full of love. Just back from a trip to Disney World and still talking about it.  Beautiful inside and out. Better today than at any time in the past. Words are not enough. Best. mom. ever.

Happy birthday to all!

now i know how people feel when the super bowl stinks

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I look forward to Oscar Night. Save your snarky judgment, I don't make you watch it.

So it's with great sadness that I say, this is so boring that even I have lost interest. I saw and liked most of the nominated films. But it's just excruciating to watch this. You know it's boring when the best idea is to show how good the hosts were 40 years ago.

And so I'm off to bed. Thank goodness for the digital video recorder. Oh yeah, I'll watch the rest tomorrow (and double thank goodness for fast-forward).

saucy manx

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BELFAST — One of the things I like most about Bittles is that I always meet someone interesting when I go there. The streak continued Saturday as KER and I lent a chair at our table to a man who resembled actor Jamie Cromwell (the farmer in "Babe").

We began to chat, as you do, and it turned out he was visiting from the Isle of Man. He enjoys Northern Ireland for long walks so he and KER (a history of half-marathons, at least one full Isle-of-man-flag marathon and counting) really hit it off. They especially chatted about the Isle of Man Parish Walk, a seemingly grueling 85 miles in less than 24 hours. I think this is KER's new life goal.

We didn't spend a lot of time with this Manx gentleman but we learned a lot about the Manx culture. The Manx have a very cool three-legged symbol (armored! with spurs! the Scots are envious) and motto roughly translated: "No matter where you throw me, I shall stand." This appears on the Isle of Man's pounds and the island has its own Royal Mail, which is where our new acquaintance works. He participated in their 2011 charity calendar — think "Calendar Girls" but with postal accessories. He told us he posed au natural on the calendar cover with other employees, concealed by strategically placed mailbags. I thought this was hilarious and was spinning dozens of off-color postal jokes in my head but he beat me to the punchline:

"Yes, some people teased that a postage stamp should have been sufficient."

just one more

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BELFAST — The three most dangerous words in Northern Ireland are not "What's your religion?" but "Just one more." That's the encouragement to stay later and to keep ordering pints.

I was no stranger to pubs during my time in NI, but it was not the center of my social universe. I did have a couple favorites, so I enjoyed visiting my top three for an outing with colleagues on Saturday. The John Hewitt was our first stop — it's named after a poet, how couldn't you love it? We had a lovely lunch and a long chat before KER and I continued on to White's Tavern, which claims to be Belfast's oldest pub. It's really the coziest, I think. Oh, these are definitely "old man's pubs," not trendy clubs. This induces a desire to stay. Time stops. We sat by the fire and watched life go by.

The we "just one more"d ourselves over to Bittles.

‘epicentre of burns’

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ALLOWAY – For more than three years I’ve had a notion to attend a Burns Supper. That’s underselling it a bit: a campaign to attend a Burns Supper is a more accurate description of my desire to go to this Ploughman Poet celebration.  

My friend CRJ is a Scotsman’s Scotman, and when I told him that 2011 was The Year of the Burns Supper for me, he was on the case. CRJ delivered the gold standard of Burns Suppers, an absolutely perfect night.

We attended a black-tie (Scottish = formal kilts) event in the nexus of Burns Country. One speaker P1260102 referred to our exact location at the Brig O’ Doon House Hotel as “the epicenter of Burns”:  The banquet room faced the banks of the River Doon and a bridge where Tam O’Shanter just may have made his escape; the hotel stood across the road from the Alloway Auld Kirk where Burns’ father rests in peace (and where the witches danced); the Burns Monument was a stone’s throw away, beyond that, the new Robert Burns Birthplace Museum and just further afield, the cottage with the small corner where Rabbie came into the world.

I ask you, how much more Burns could it get?

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