The Graveyard of June Posts

During the month of June, my dashboard was the place that posts went to die. I either drafted or conceived more posts that never happened than ever before. As we move into the new month, I think that it's only fair that we lay these posts to rest.

Tossing My Cookie
A visit to Deb's lakehouse included a visit to Ike's Sports Bar, a happening little joint in the middle of South Carolina that hosts karaoke on Friday nights. Before my name was called for "Devil Went Down to Georgia," Deb's husband John treated us to a little liquid courage in the form of an oatmeal cookie shot. For the record, it tasted like the candles your grandma burns at Christmas. I performed my little Georgian heart out and spurred a couple of South Carolinian gentlemen to clog through the final verse. And then, as we left, I threw up. On the sidewalk. And then in the bushes - where I remained until STGD came to collect me and noted that I looked like a rape victim who crawled out of the shrubs.

South Georgia
I traveled to south Georgia last week to visit with a new client. A drug and alcohol addiction residential recovery program. It was a profoundly moving day. In the house, these young women gathered around the dining room table to tell us their stories. Incarceration. A lifetime with addicted parents. Broken homes and families. And their amazing comebacks from the brink of disaster. I was humbled. I was moved to tears. I rode back to Atlanta, gazing out the window and thinking of my blessings - both the kind I already had and the ones I acquired that day.

Brangelina
I missed my opportunity to express my thoughts on Brangelina at the Smartini Bar. I'd just like to say for the record that I am equal parts fascinated and repulsed by the Brange. I admire their contributions to making the world a better place - I really do. I mean, they just gave kids in Iraq $1 million. But I also resent the fact that - even when I don't read Perez - I have to know every move they make. I confess, too, that I always feel slightly sorry for Jennifer Anniston - what must she be thinking, with no hit movies in quite awhile and just that endorsement deal for Smart Water? I'm also kind of creeped out by the feeling the Brangelina is trying to start their own eco-friendly, multi-cultural, uber-beautiful super race. In which case, I'm totally screwed.

What's in a Name?
Last Wednesday, I was talking to Justin on the phone, and he had Dillon. "Say hi to Auntie Ashley," he prompted.

"Hi," says Dillon.

"Hey, buddy," I say. "What're you and Daddy doing?"

"Can you say 'Ashley'?" Justin asks.

"Ashhhh-eeee," Dillon says, very clearly.

I get euphoric over the fact that he says my name. He knows me! Except that over the weekend, I test him. "Who am I?" I question.

He looks at me and says, "Sha." Definitively. Clear as a bell. He might've said "Ashley" but my name is "Sha."

Simple Pleasures
Things that make me happy that cost nothing...
* Taking pictures
* Riding in the bed of a pickup truck
* The return of my Southern accent
* Blackberry picking
* Crossword puzzles
* The smell of ozone and wet asphalt during a summer shower

Sex & the Panda
So Eva and I make plans to go to Sex & the City while I'm in town and working at the Atlanta office. She searches out a time that fits with my arrival from the office and her babysitter's 10 p.m. limit. We rush to the theater - sans dinner - and stock up on soft pretzels, popcorn, and chocolate. We find a good seat and watch the previews. Which seem a bit odd - a football movie starring Dennis Quaid. Wall-E. Another sports-themed movie. And fifteen minutes later, the opening credits for Kung-Fu Panda roll onto the screen. For about thirty second, there's total silence and then the theater full of women of all ages erupts like a bunch of magpies. Long story short, the theater goofed. And the new run time? Past the babysitter's curfew. We left, unsexed, uncitied and unhappy.

You were good posts. May you rest in peace.