Category Archives: Uncategorized

Remembering

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  Memorial Day is pretty much like any other day for my husband, a newspaper sports editor. He does go in to the office a bit later than normal, but there’s no time for cookouts or picnics or parties. So I wondered what he had in mind when he asked if I’d like to help him do something before he left for work today. Turns out he had a different sort of Memorial Day celebration planned. We drove to the Corinth National Cemetery, just a mile or so from our house, where  Boy Scouts and other volunteers had decorated gravestones with American flags today. It’s a beautiful spot — quiet, peaceful and shady — especially with thousands of flags fluttering in the breeze. He and I drifted into different areas, and when I caught sight of him again, he was in a far corner of the cemetery. I noticed him bending over individual markers, coming back up with a flag in his hand, waving the flag around and then bending back down, over and over again: He was picking up flags that had fallen over on the ground, waving them around to air out the wrinkles and then placing them back upright next to the gravestones. “It just seems like the right thing to do,” he said, as I joined him. We didn’t cover the entire cemetery, but we straightened quite a few flags. And we talked. About the origins of this cemetery — the U.S. government established it in 1866 for Union casualties of nearby battles, so there are only three Confederate soldiers buried here. About the older couple we watched place an arrangement at the marker of a young man killed in the Persian Gulf war — was he their son? About the markers listing service in multiple wars — World War II, Korea and Vietnam were a common combination. About the single dried rose left atop one gravestone. And about the thousands of unidentified soldiers buried here, lost to their families. But, today — remembered.

Camouflage Style

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My husband looked at me contemplatively as I got dressed that morning. “Sweetie,” he said, “why are you wearing a camouflage shirt?” I didn’t think I’d heard him correctly. “A what?” I said. “I’m wearing a what?” He nodded his head as if to confirm his fashion diagnosis. “Yes. You’re wearing a camouflage shirt and I just wondered why.” I could not believe what I was hearing. “What’s wrong with you?” I said. “This is not a camouflage shirt. It’s an abstract floral pattern in earth tones — very ‘in’ for spring, I’ll have you know.” He just smiled. “Sure, dear,” he said. “Whatever you say. But it’s a camouflage shirt.” And, really, looking at these photos now, I can sort of see what he means. Just as long as y’all know it is not a camouflage shirt but it a highly stylish piece of fashion art. Or something. Also: I blame the neck wrinkles, tummy bulges and droopy boobs you see here on my husband’s photography and the fact that he would not let me do the half-turn hand-on-hip camera-friendly celebrity pose.  And those are streaks of blonde in my hair, not streaks of gray. Other than that, though, this is pretty much me. Minus the camouflage shirt.

The Folded Swan

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I’m pretty much a small-town Southern girl. More than three cars waiting at a stop light says “traffic jam” to me.  The biggest building I can see from my front porch is the three-story county courthouse on the square a couple of blocks away. Also: I’m lazy and do not like housework. If we even have clean towels in our bathrooms at home, I consider that quite an accomplishment. But at the same time, I love visiting Big Cities and staying in nice hotels. For a change of pace, you know. And for endless clean towels. So when those clean towels come origami-fied as a pair of swans, it’s lagniappe. I mean, is this something I should consider doing at home? And where did this idea come from? Did somebody sitting around a corporate hotel-chain table suddenly jump up and say, “Swans! We must have swans!”? Or is it a subversive effort from the housekeeping staff? Or maybe towel swans are The Latest Thing in hotels and I’ve missed it until now. At least it’s nice to have a cityscape balcony view to gaze at reflectively while you contemplate weighty swan-towel issues.

Jewelry Tree

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My son-in-law is the most amazing artist ever. I’ve been fascinated for years how he can take ordinary household items and create … well … art. He transforms everyday supplies into imaginative and whimsical designs. And it’s second nature for him — he just sits down and thinks for a minute and then makes art. Such as the Christmas presents he made for this year for all the women in his life: This absolutely delightful jewelry tree. He twisted plain ol’ wire into delightfully meandering tree branches and then set them into bases sturdy enough for us to load up all our dangling and clanging jewelry. Older Daughter kept telling me, “You are so going to love what he’s made you for Christmas,” and she was right. And I loved the add-ons, too: Older Daughter had picked out a lovely necklace and earrings from Etsy to go with the jewelry tree. I love my family!!!

Business 101, or I Know Billy Reid!

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Oh my goodness, y’all. Did you read today that fashion designer Billy Reid won the prestigious Council of Fashion Designers/Vogue Fashion Fund award as an exceptional and exciting emerging talent? And did you notice that he was described as Southern and country and small-town? Well, he lives in MY Southern and country small-town of Florence, Alabama, and I know him! I’ve been to his house! His sister-in-law and her husband are my periodontists!! He sometimes remembers my name!!! It tickles me no end to see somebody I know — somebody I know as just a regular normal person — all dressed up and under the lights in photographs with Anna Wintour and Karl Lagerfeld. Good for him. He really is a nice family guy with an elegantly classic yet at the same time sentimentally laidback sort of style. It’s like J. Crew meets Holly Golightly and they go have tea at Grey Gardens. See for yourself. I’ve even picked up a couple of Billy Reid pieces at his super-super-way-out-of-season discount sales, which is the only way I can afford designer duds. But the two sweaters and the skirt I did buy are some of my favorite clothes — Reid has high standards for quality and workmanship, which, of course, accounts for the high (for me, at least) prices. And he’s a great neighbor, too. His shop — with company headquarters on the second floor — is smack dab in the middle of downtown Florence, and he’s become a huge community asset. He hosts parties, supports causes and encourages local musicians and artists. He and his family came to Florence — his wife’s hometown — after post 9/11 frugality sunk his fledgling fashion business. He regrouped and started again, and now he’s hanging out in New York with the fashion elite. See where determination and hard work will get you? And talent. And creativity. And financing. But the one thing I really admire Billy Reid for is his incredibly marketing savvy. He knows how to style his brand and get that brand out there. Everything that represents him and his business is consistent and authentic — you know it’s Billy Reid as soon as you open the envelope or read the Facebook post or see the print ad. Seems to me that no matter what business you’re in, that’s a tremendous advantage.

Caffeine and Cash

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At first I was so pleased that my husband and I got these offers in the mail. I mean, it’s a free $5-purchase at Starbucks. Thank you, Our Bank, for such a nice surprise. Y’all rock. However, on a closer read, I quickly became less happy. For instance, to receive the gift card, you have to use your debit card as a credit card, which I rarely do. And it naturally makes me suspicious — why is Our Bank pushing the credit-card angle? Obviously something’s in it for Our Bank and to distract us from asking questions, Our Bank is dangling a coffee-flavored carrot in front of us. Hmm … Also, note that these two cards require two different numbers of purchases to receive the gift card. The one for my husband, who maybe has used his debit card at a Starbucks perhaps twice ever, says “20 purchases” and the one for me, who knows every Starbucks employee in three states, says “33 purchases.” Thirty-three? Really, 33??? I’d love to see the calculations that came up with that number. And, finally, there is probably only one Starbucks near any of Our Bank’s locations, not to mention the fact that Our Bank markets itself as a hometown homegrown business — the sort of opposite of Starbucks. I wonder how well these Starbucks offers have gone over with Our Bank’s customers. Not great, I’m betting, although coffee and money are two essentials in my life.

And now for something completely different. Have you ever wondered what really happens on the other side of Friday-night lights? I’m talking about the center of high-school football: Sports desks at local newspapers. Read my weekly newspaper column to get an inside glimpse of the sprints, the tackles and the fumbles involved in getting info from dozens of games to press in the space of about a couple of hours. And you thought play-offs were stressful!

Black is Slimming — In Fact, It’s Practically Invisible

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It’s been cool here in northwest Alabama/northeast Mississippi these past few mornings — sort of like fall might actually be here, after all. We’re paying attention to frost warnings, unpacking football-game blankets a couple of weeks early and flicking the heat on … just to make sure it’s working, you know.  We — OK, me — even have rooted around in the dark corners of our closets to retrieve those jackets and sweaters that migrated to the depths during those long 100-degrees-plus summer days. But I came up empty. I knew what I was looking for: A lightweight but warm and snuggly black fleece jacket that fits perfectly over T-shirts. I knew I had one. And possibly two. Or maybe three. No luck, though. Were they hiding? Had they jumped ship and sailed out of the house in bags destined for give-away? Or yard sales? Had a daughter borrowed them and they never found their way back home? So many possible answers! But still no lightweight and warm snuggly black fleece jacket. So I turned to my trusty you-can-find-whatever-you-need shopping destination: T.J. Maxx. And of course I found the exact jacket I was looking for. At a price less than what I typically spend at Starbucks. So I brought my new jacket home, cut off the tags and hung it up in my closet in the designated “lightweight jacket” section — where of course I discovered two other practically identical jackets. One still with the tags. This may be why my husband will often look in my closet and shake his head and say, “I used to have money. Then I got married.” But I have three or possibly four lightweight but warm black fleece jackets. So there.

Girl with the Awesome Menu

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I have to admit that I don’t know anything about Sweden beyond that Swedish muppet guy and the wonderful breakfast I order at the Original House of Pancakes in Birmingham’s Five Points that comes with powdered sugar, whipped cream and strawberries. (Now, that’s a breakfast.) Or I didn’t know anything before I got addicted to those internationally bestselling  Stieg Larsson’s “Girl With …” books. If you haven’t picked these up, you’ve got to. And keep the coffee pot handy because that’s basically all they do in these books: Hack into computers, track down killers and drink endless cups of coffee. I can’t get enough. And luckily my food-loving book club read the first book in this trilogy — and extra-luckily our hostess for this meeting is our friend who specializes in creating marvelicious meals for the rest of us to enjoy. She went all out for our “Girl with the Dagon Tattoo” night and created a Swedish smorgasbord that I believe Larsson himself would have felt right at home with. We had smoked salmon, pickled herring, beets, potatoes, ligonberry preserves, pickles, cheese, sandwiches and of course coffee and cake for dessert. Oh my cookies. It was delicious, and she made us feel so special. We always nominate her for Best Hostess Ever and we threaten not to leave whenever she has us over. You’d think she’d learn, but we’re glad she hasn’t.

Press Releases and Peaches

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Have I told y’all that I’ve got a new job? Well, I use the term “job” loosely because it’s really just fun that I get paid for. And I’m using the phrase “get paid for” loosely, too. I’m the new marketing director for a local arts association that oversees an art museum and a renovated historic theatre. It’s part-time — only a few hours a week — and of course  it’s non-profit, so you can see that this is not the path to great personal wealth and riches. Of the money kind, at least. Because in terms of great personal satisfaction, this job rocks. The staff offices are in the museum, so we’re surrounded by creativity, talent and general wonderfulness every day. And the folks on the staff are exactly the type of people you want to work with: Dedicated, enthusiastic, generous and fun. Plus, I get to do what I love doing: Write. My prime responsibility is writing press releases and public service announcements and getting the word out about our exhibits, theatrical productions, concerts, workshops, tours, openings, etc. I’ve been building a media-contact list, talking to artists and newspaper and magazine folks and generally learning my way around the art world — which, by the way, is a fascinating place. Fascinating. One thing I’ve been thrilled to discover is that my work clothes from two years ago when I “retired” from fulltime newspaper-newsroom room still fit — but only because all those low-waisted skirts I borrowed from my daughters now sort of hang out around my waist since there seems to be some sort of impediment in my middle zone. But it’s OK, since I now have some spare cash I can put toward a new wardrobe the electric bill. (Oh, hi, Dear Husband! I didn’t see you reading here.) Read more about tackling a new job in my latest newspaper column.  And Younger Daughter sent me off to my new job in style the other morning with broiled fresh peaches served with a dollop of creamy Greek yogurt. Oh, yum.

Writing

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Oh my goodness — I definitely got up on my soapbox today in my weekly newspaper column. Usually I write about my kids or my grandson Capt. Adorable or my husband or my friends or the weird things that happen to me as I try to impersonate a got-it-together grownup adult woman, but this week as students get ready to head back to school I’ve been hearing stories from teachers in art and music and theater about having to cut back and do without and it just made me mad. We must support arts education in our schools. I know times are tough and, like we do in our own families, we have to sacrifice and make unpopular decisions. But dropping arts education cannot be an option. Read more at http://www.timesdaily.com/article/20090807/ARTICLES/908075005/1031?Title=We-want-our-arts-music-education and tell me what you think.

And my husband, John Pitts, the sports editor at the Tupelo, Mississippi, Northeast Mississippi Daily Journal, has a new blog up at his paper’s Web site,  http://nems360.com/. Click on http://nems360.com/blog/3079620/Sports+Buzz for a glimpse into SEC and Mississippi sports — and sports news from all over — and a look into my husband’s eclectic and cluttered mind. Even if you’re not a sports person, by reading this blog you’ll be able to knowledgeably drop a sports comment into any conversation and sound as if you know exactly what you’re talking about. My husband’s guidance turned me from someone who only went to football games for the halftime show into someone who can say with authority, “Its’ all up to the special teams.”