No, Tasha the White Cat won’t get sold along with the rest of the stuff slated for our upcoming yard sale, but sometimes I’m tempted. She can be the most annoying, whiny, aggravating little thing — and then she curls up right beside you and tucks her head under and goes to sleep and looks so sweet that you forgive her for the 3 a.m. wakeup calls. Even my husband John Pitts overlooks her irritating determination to get on the other side of any — every? — door, no matter what time of day or night and her overwhelming jump-in-your-lap need to have some of whatever anybody else is eating. Too bad she doesn’t have thumbs and can’t help with yard-sale pricing. We usually donate stuff we accumulate and don’t want to a local church-run thrift store, but somehow we still had tons of stuff taking up prime space. We pretty much have an empty nest now with Older Daughter off and married and Younger Daughter off at college — I always tell them that I don’t mind keeping/storing their stuff, as long as it’s stuff they know they want to keep/store. If not, let’s let it be somebody else’s junk. We haven’t had a yard sale for years and years, and I sweetened the deal by offering each of the daughters half of the proceeds if they’d help declutter. You can see the response here — and this is just part of what we’ve got to sell. Except for the kitty. She stays. I guess.
Category Archives: family
Fashion
This is my beautiful older daughter, Liz. We were at a family get-together this weekend and I thought she looked absolutely adorable. Now, you have to know that she is mom to my 15-month-old grandson, Capt. Adorable; a dance teacher; a staffer at her local Little Gym and to top it all off, the most frugal and budget-conscious person I know — a trait she obviously did not get from me, to my husband’s eternal consternation. You usually can find Liz in yoga pants or a Little Gym T-shirt or whatever she found on the floor in her closet from three years ago that is clean fits. Clothes just aren’t her top priority day-to-day. But when she wants to, she can put together a chic and affordable look that’s so cute and definitely says “cool young mom.” From the gladiator sandals to the statement necklace, nothing here probably cost more than $35-$50. I love that she took basic shorts and jazzed them up with an eye-catching yet simple and comfortable top that will withstand anything Capt. Adorable dishes out — literally. Plus, the flat sandals were perfect for tramping around on the grass — it always makes me feel slightly superior tickles me when I see unsuspecting and image-conscious women wear heels to outdoor events — what are you thinking??? I am thinking that Liz has this whole mom-style thing figured out — and I shudder to remember our 1980s young-mom uniform. Stirrup pants and bedazzled sweatshirts, anyone?
Grandparenting
It was that classic moment in “The Shining,” when Jack Nicholson peered through the cracked-open door, combined with every scary babysitter movie ever — I had just put almost-15-month-old grandson, Capt. Adorable, in his crib for the night and gone out to my daughter and son-in-law’s den to watch TV when I heard a door creaking … and there was nobody around who should be opening an door. Yikes! Find out what happened at my weekly newspaper column for the TimesDaily, http://www.timesdaily.com/article/20090626/ARTICLES/906265007. (Hints: Capt. Adorable has been walking since he was less than 10 months old — and he was not happy to be left alone in his crib without his mom or dad around that night.)
Shopping
There’s not a World Market in our little Alabama town, so everytime my husband and I are on the road and pass one, we have to stop and go in. The thing about World Markets is that there’s plenty for both of us to happily browse through. First, we both head to the food section in the back, where my husband gets tickled by the huge nostalgic candy inventory and I investigate the gourmet junk food — are we healthy or what? We linger in the beer aisle and I check out the coffees and teas while he surfs the fiery southwestern choices. After that, my husband eyes the furniture and I ooh and ahh over accessories such as pillows, curtains and candleholders. In truth, his attention starts to wander while I’m still dragging him over to check out this rug or that coffee maker but he’s a good sport and tries to stay focused long enough to veto the paisley-print sheets and the orange batik lampshade. My fantasy is to walk into World Market, tell the clerks, “I’ll take two of everything,” and then live in global bliss ever after. And I’m absolutely sure my dear husband feels the same way.
Marriage
When my husband John Pitts — who is a super writer and the best editor I know — and I recently celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary, I wrote about it in my weekly newspaper column and asked my husband to talk about the five things he’s learned in five years of marriage. He did, it got great response and I was tickled that I had tricked my husband into writing my column for me my husband so kindly wrote my column for me that week. However, most people noticed that he,in fact, had written it and so wondered why I was so lazy and where my five things were. So here they are: http://www.timesdaily.com/article/20090619/ARTICLES/906195000
But, seriously, the main thing I’ve learned in five years of marriage is something I couldn’t quite articulate in my column without seeming to be critical of my first husband, which I’ve vowed never to do in (newspaper) print. What is that lesson? It’s something I struggled with for years: Saying exactly what I mean and trusting that it’s going to be OK. In my first marriage, I picked up the bad habit of being passive-aggressive. You know, playing the “I’m-upset-but-I’m-not-going-to-tell-you-because-if-you-loved-me-enough-you’d-figure-it-out” game that only leads to disaster. That is not the basis for a healthy relationship, and to get over doing that means you have to rely on trust and faith and respect — which I have in overflowing abundance with my husband John Pitts. Who, by the way, is an awesome stepfather, too. Am I lucky or what?
Children
Art
You got a surprise present in your mailbox this month (no — your carrier isn’t leaving you chocolate-chip cookies again): The cover of the June Anthropologie catalog features an original work from Hatch Show Print, in Nashville, Tenn., and it’s a beauty. Hatch Show Print, on Broadway in downtown Nashville, is the oldest working poster print shop in the country. It began in 1879 and became known for its wood-carved letterpress work for country music, jazz and blues performances — and its iconic balance of layout, typeface, color and Southern culture. The best part is that you can wander into the shop and see posters still being made the same way. I’ve always thought Anthropologie’s catalogues were whimsical combinations of style and design and I was tickled to see one of my favorite Nashville spots featured here. Actually, my parents first told me about Hatch Show Print — because they’re cool like that. Our hometown of Manchester, Tenn., is near Nashville, and Hatch Show Print is one of my parents’ usual stops when they head downtown. They took me along one day and am I glad they did. If you’re headed to Nashville this summer, you owe it to yourself to schedule a visit to Hatch Show Print — chock full of presses and prints and posters and typefaces and wood blocks, it’s unlike any other place you’ve ever seen. Check out Anthropologie at http://www.anthropologie.com and Hatch Show Print at http://www.anthropologie.comhttp://www.countrymusichalloffame.com/site/experience-hatch-today.aspx
TV
Listen, girlfriend, I know we cannot get enough of you lately, but, seriously, you are taking up way too prime celebrity space and I would like you to stop it. Please? Like, immediately? I cannot pick up any gossip magazine without you being on it and frankly it’s starting to bug me. I mean, I’m spending good money because I want to read about Jennifer’s attempts to get Brad back or Angelina’s attempts to get Brad back or how Elizabeth Banks really is not very nice or how Sandra Bullock really is. I don’t want to read about you. And let’s be clear: I’m not being critical of you. In fact, I’m sort of envious. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be a famous multi-millionaire with nannies, bodyguards and Emeril as a personal chef? Sign me up, and I’ll take the hair stylist, personal trainer and free tummy tuck, too. I do not begrudge you fame and fortune. I say good for you. It shows initiative and determination on your part and really, if I’d known having eight children was a key to success I’d have rethought stopping at two. The thing is, however, you are not a celebrity. You are just a regular person who yells at her husband and yells at her kids and makes bad choices. You are, sad to say, just like us. We don’t want our celebrities to be just like us. Oh, it’s true we want our celebrities to pretend they’re just like us. We want to see them buying toliet paper at Costco and slurping down frapps at Starbucks and playing with their kids at the park, but we know and they know and they know we know that they aren’t like us at all. You, however, are just like us but you don’t know it. You are — and I say this with all due respect — sort of boring. We don’t care about your free trips and your free vacations and the TV “stars” who keep popping up in your driveway to install solar panels or take you on motorcycle rides. It’s just … oh, I don’t know … uninteresting. And this whole marriage breakup thing? Please! I can get five women together at a moment’s notice who have marriage-breakup stories that would curl … uh, straighten … your hair. I’m sorry you have problems, but put your big-girl panties on and deal with it. In private, please. I look forward to the day when — just like the rest of us — the only connection you have to gossip magazines is picking one up at the grocery and reading it in the express lane while the person in front of you has 37 items and doesn’t know how to use the debit-card machine. Thank you.
Marriage
Thank you all for the kind fifth-anniversary thoughts. You are so sweet! My husband John Pitts and I had a super weekend of looking back at our oh-so-wonderful wedding (and all the friends and family who made it so) and looking ahead to what new adventures await — a nice mixture of nostalgia and optimism! We do make a good team. In fact, he helped me with my newspaper column this week. You can read the whole thing at http://www.timesdaily.com/article/20090612/ARTICLES/906125000, but the best part is the advice he gave — my husband’s five things he’s learned from five years of marriage:
1. Just like Einstein, you spend a lot of energy grappling with issues of time and space. In our busy lives, of course, we have to make time for each other while also giving each other the space to breathe. But I also have learned not to call home when it’s time for “Survivor” or “So You Think You Can Dance,” and not to complain too much when she takes up “my space” in the closet. Einstein would tell you, if he were here: it’s all relative.
2. In a restaurant with a television, always sit with your back to the TV. This has brought as much harmony to our relationship as anything I can think of. I’m easily distracted, anyway, so this assures much better eye contact. Besides, it’s fun to hear my wife try to describe the action from a baseball game that’s playing behind me (“There’s a guy with the ball, then there’s a guy running and sliding and everyone is jumping up and down.”)
3. Be careful with the smart-alecky remarks when your wife is chopping something in the kitchen with a big knife and you’re standing nearby. I’m just sayin’.
4. It’s good to learn how to navigate in your spouse’s world. Even though I don’t like coffee, for instance, when we visit the coffee shop they can still make me something that I like: Steamed milk. Yum!
5. And the Biggest Lesson of All: Even though I want to, my wife is not always looking for me to make everything all right. Sometimes she just wants to vent, to cry, to have real emotions in the presence of a person who loves her and respects her and understands. Of course, sometimes she does want me to make everything all right. How to tell the difference? I’m working on it. Check back in another five years.
Anniversary
Friday is our fifth wedding anniversary, which is a pretty amazing thing. My
husband John Pitts and I first met more than 30 years ago, when we were journalism students at Middle Tennessee State University in Murfreesboro, his hometown. Our relationship timeline goes something like this: Dating, breakup, dating, breakup, Cathy wants to get married and John doesn’t, Cathy gets married to somebody else (pause here for 16 or so years until Cathy gets divorced), dating, breakup, dating, breakup, John wants to get married and Cathy doesn’t, dating, breakup, dating, breakup and then somehow both of us want to get married at the same time. Success! And the thing is, even
through all the breakups (except for the 16-year married-to-somebody-else thing) we’ve been best friends. We argue, we laugh, we edit each other’s copy, he takes out the garbage and I remind him of family birthdays — what a team! Our wedding was so much fun, and I had the best bridesmaids ever in my two daughters. We had started out planning a surprise wedding — inviting folks for a party and then springing a ceremony on them — but the girls wisely talked us out of that idea so we had a wedding sort of squeezed in between two parties: We had a cocktail party first at this wonderful historic home in
downtown Murfreesboro and then everybody walked over to the church for the ceremony and then walked back to the home for a reception. Bonus: We stayed in another historic house that was a bed-and-breakfast directly across the street — so convenient. One of my best memories from the wedding was looking out at the congregation and seeing all our dear family and friends gathered there for us. I don’t think younger brides realize how special that is. Or how special it is to marry the person you care about most in the world, the person who makes you laugh and doesn’t mind when you cry at movies and tells you how to make your writing better, even if that person does listen to Rush Limbaugh. Every day.

