Papaw

My earliest memories of Papaw aren’t actually of a man, but a chicken. Thousands of chickens. You see, among a million other things, Papaw was a chicken farmer. Until he “retired,” Papaw raised chickens for several poultry companies. He’d get up incredibly early every morning and tend the chickens. And then the cows. And then, as I said, the million other things that are required for keeping a farm up and running – especially a farm in rural Arkansas.


In those days, I thought of Papaw as the strong and silent type. Perhaps it was because I thought he could do anything and shouldn’t be bothered with small children when he had a farm to run. Perhaps Mamaw’s gregariousness just made it seem like Papaw didn’t talk much. Perhaps it was because he liked to watch TV with the volume on mute.

No matter, when I was six or seven, Papaw was my strong and silent grandfather.

Then, when I was eight or nine, Papaw became my knight in a plaid, pearl snap button shirt when he cut me out of a tangled mess that may or may not have involved a rope swing and my long hair. Papaw was my scissors-wielding hero.

In my junior high years, Papaw was the only one, save Jeffrey, who would take those slimy and slippery fish off my hook when we went fishing. When I was 13, Papaw was my fishing buddy.

And then Mamaw died. And Papaw outdid every romance legend I'd ever heard of – even my favorite,  Mr. Darcy. Just before we laid her down, Papaw slipped Mamaw’s wedding band on to his little finger and wore it for her. When I was 16, Papaw had what was my idea of true and everlasting love.

A couple of years later, I realized that Papaw wasn’t invincible. But could be hurt, and did hurt. I never saw it, he never mentioned it, but all of a sudden he needed a hand with running the farm. He sold his cows, stopped fishing, and started relying on others for some of the things he used to do on his own. As the years passed, I heard that awful c-word more and more during hushed conversations. When I was twenty, Papaw had cancer.

Last year, about this time, Papaw decided that he was ready to have constant care and be waited on hand and foot so went to live at Mom and Dad’s. By that point, he needed a wheelchair on bad days, a walker on most days, and oxygen all the time. He went to Mom and Dad’s and took over. Mom cooked what he wanted to eat. Daddy relinquished his hold over the remote control and Papaw became the center of our familial world. When I was 23, Papaw was burdened by pain, burdened by his dependency on others, and burdened by the weighty task of picking the right TV show. But he still laughed. He still smiled. And he still cracked jokes like he was sitting around with his friends listening to live music at the local hot spot – you know, the local hot spot for 80 year olds in the middle of nowhere, Arkansas. A year ago, Papaw was burdened and weary – but not ready.

Last week, Papaw was ready. He was tired of this world and the heavy load he carried. He was ready to see Mamaw again, ready to walk on his own two feet, and ready to be free from his burdens.

Five days ago, Papaw left this world because he didn’t need it anymore.



Now, when I’m 24, my papaw is gone.



Through the years, he’s been my grandfather, my hero, my friend, my perfect love story. And he’s been sick. He’s been burdened.

But now, now he is FREE. He is no longer bound by the troubles and pain of this world but has risen from the ashes of this life to live eternally. Right now, he’s probably mowing the grass that runs beside those streets of gold. Or maybe he’s playing Dominos with Mamaw, Aunt Courtney, and Uncle Marlin. Or maybe he’s sitting back tapping his foot to the sound of the Heavenly chorus. But you know what he’s not doing?

He’s not riding in a wheelchair.

He’s not wondering if he’ll be able to get out of bed himself in the morning.

And he’s certainly not in pain.



I don’t know that I’ll ever not hurt when I think of him. But I know that I’m going to smile too. I’m going to remember his buttermilk and cornbread suppers. I’m going to remember his crush on Paula Deen. I’m going to remember that my papaw is in Paradise.

And I’m going to smile.

There will be more tears, I have no doubt. But there will also be laughter and smiles at the memories. AND THERE WILL BE PEANUT PATTIES. They won’t be as good as his. And if I make them, we may have to eat them with a spoon, but as long as I have my memories AND peanut patties, Papaw won’t really be gone.

He’ll just be at the farm – waiting for us.

Italy: Day 2, Part 2

Again, this is written from my journal, so it's weird.

At 4:00 p.m., we had an orientation meeting with the tour group and guide (whatever his name is) and then met up with everyone to walk to a group dinner and pizza-making presentation. By that point, we were about to eat each other but, thankfully, we were able to resist. They make their pizza, just like we make ours - crust first. The pizza was simple - tomato and cheese, mushroom, and then some kind of eggplant and green something that I couldn't recognize.  We also had out first bottle of wine in Italy. Over here they sell it in half liters too. Makes it way easier for two people to drink a bottle and finish it.

While we were eating, a man played the piano and another man sang. The singer was very expressive and loud. And energetic. He sang for tips to he tried to engage everyone. Matt and I got a picture with him when he forced our heads together for a kiss. It was the most unromantic kiss in the history of time.

After dinner, we went on a walking tour of Rome - including the underground. The Metro was shady to say the least. Lots of people. Hardly any directional signs. The Metro is built pretty far underneath the ground because the designers had to dig beneath the ruins of ancient Rome. We got off the Metro at Spagna to start our night walk. We first went to the Palazzo Spagna which is home to the Spanish Steps. The Steps, along with the church at the top of the steps, belong to France. Weird. There were lots and lots of pink and red azalea-type plants on the steps with lots and lots of people. But this is Rome, and there are people everywhere. The steps were really beautiful with the flowers and the moonlight. Worth seeing at night, for sure. We then went to the Trevi Fountain. Bernini's beautiful fountain. And huge fountain. It's at least 85 feet high and 65 feet wide. Huge. I didn't realize it would be so big. All of the main sights here have vendors outside selling everything from light-up squishy toys to keychains with Vespas on them. Annoying, but one way to know when something is worth seeing. We got our first gelato at the Trevi Fountain - Nutella and mint chocolate chip. Good, but just ice cream.

We then went to the Pantheon. Seeing that for the first time is something I hope I never forget. We walked around the corner and bam! there is was. Centuries and centuries and centuries old right in the middle of just single century buildings. We couldn't go inside because it was closed for the night, but the outside was incredible. It was originally built as a pagan temple in about 120 a.d. but was converted to a Christian church sometime in the 7th century.

We also made stops in Piazza Navona with the three fountains and a beautiful church. By that point, we were beyond tired. At 10:45, we went to the nearest bus stop to catch notorious bus #64. It's notorious because it is a favorite of pickpockets as the route of the bus hits all the major tourist spots. At length (you know, like 45 minutes), it came. We joined about 3.5 million other people to catch a ride back to the train station. Matt got frisked several times by would-be pickpockets and I didn't need to hold on to the handrail becuase I was up close and personal with about 20 of my newest friends. After lots of awkward touching and apologizing, we finally made it back to the hotel about midnight.

Our room (and the rest of Rome, I suspect) is not exactly up to date with modern features like air conditioning that works. Matt and I slept fitfully for about six hours before rolling out of bed at 6 a.m. to start our first full day in Rome.

Up next: Day 3, Part 1 where we explore the Colosseum, Roman Forum, and Palantine Hill. And get lost...

Italy: Day 2, Part 1

Okay, this is straight from my journal so it's written a little weird. I decided not to clean it up because I wrote it on the ground in Rome and I kind of like that journal entry/diary type thing. Here goes:

Man, what a long day. Matt and I didn't sleep much on the plane (shocker, I know...) and are exhausted. I've been wearing the same clothes now for about 36 hours and am looking forward to bathing tonight. I haven't figured out how that's going to work yet. Details to come.

We got to Rome about 9:00 a.m. local time and got a shuttle to the hotel with another girl from our group, Ashley, from Canada. She actually likes socialized healthcare (shudder). We couldn't check in to our hotel room until noon so we went out into the city in search of cappuccino and breakfast. And an ATM - we just had dollars and needed Euros since most places don't take credit cards.

After the ATM, we went to a little deli close to our hotel and experienced our first food awkwardness over pressed sandwiches of ham and cheese and cappuccinos. Note to self: I still don't like coffee in any form. Bitterness just isn't my thing. Note to travelers: English is not a universal language.

Once we were "refreshed," we walked around a bit and saw some of the sights close to the hotel - Hotel Noto. Just up the street was the National Museum of Rome (which we never went in because the entrance was quite elusive) and the Basilica San Maria delgi Angeli. We couldn't go in the church because Ashley had on a skirt above her knees, but the grounds were beautiful. Instead of covered parking the way we think of it, their parking spots were covered with some type of vine. See here:

The front of the Basilica is below. It hard for me to imagine that a city thrives around all those centuries and centuries old buildings. But proof is everywhere.

Across the street was a huge fountain. I don't know the name and it isn't of significance on the maps, but it was pretty darn neat.

After seeing a few more of the local sights, we went back to the hotel to check in. Then we crashed. For two hours. On very small and hard beds. Yep, beds - plural. Because the stairways and hallways are so narrow in most of Italy, the beds are twin sized. As in like four feet wide and six and half feet long. And two inches thick. To make a double bed, they just push the beds together. Oh, and the air conditioning didn't seem to work. Joy.

After napping, Matt took a shower and got the whole bathroom, except for about two square feet of ceiling, wet. No matter though, there was no other way. It's hard to keep a bathroom dry when one takes a shower with no shower curtain.

Next up: Italy Day 2: Part 2 where we meet up with our tour group and explore the city by night!

Italy: Day 1

Don't get excited.

Day One of our trip consisted of an early morning, several pond jumpers, and a long plane ride. But hey, Italy ain't right around the corner. It takes awhile to get there. Travelling to Italy was definitely an adventure though.

We started in Baton Rouge. Shout out to Drew for driving us to the airport. We got there super early and hung out. Matt played suduko while I read a book about Paris. We should have been sleeping.

We went from BR, to Charlotte, to Philly. In Philly, we scarfed down a piece of pizza for lunch and then boarded a big ol' plane. It had 8 seats across. Two by the windows on each side and then four in the middle. That bird was huge. Best part - little tv screens on the back of each seat with individual controllers. Worst part - the little old ladies in the seats in front of use who didn't know how to work them and kept calling the flight attendant. Matt and I lucked out (thank you, travel agent) by getting window side seats. He got the aisle, I got the window. Perfect combination. While I don't really care about looking out the window (at nothingness, see below), there is usually a little ledge that is perfect for putting on foot on. It gives me just enough extra leg room that I'm comfortable.

Shortly after take off, supper came. You know, like two hours after take off. But hey, on an eight hour flight, who really keeps up with time? (Me! Me!)

THe special - chicken something. Matt liked it. Our meals weren't bad. Kind of like a Lean Cuisine or Healthy Choice. But with a very tasty brownie.

My vegetarian option. No, I'm not a vegetarian, but I wasn't real keen on eating chicken on an airplane.

Again, the food wasn't bad. But it wasn't good either. After supper Matt was still hungry and mentioned it to one of the flight attendants. He went and ferretted out some pretzels. Like three packs!! For an industry that is falling out of the sky (no foreshadowing intended), that attendant sure was flippant with the pretzels he was handing out. I won't report him though because I like Matt better when he has eaten. Low blood sugar and that man don't go well together.

Our view from the plane? Can you tell what it is? Me neither. It may be the outskirts of Philly. It's hard to tell.

Back to those little old ladies. They didn't sleep. They didn't try to. They didn't even turn off their reading lights (that were pointed straight back at us...) or get out their complimentary pillows. They did, however, keep attempting to watch their little televisions. And call the flight attendant. All. Night. Long. I don't know what they look like, but they better hope not to end up in a dark alley with me. Seriously.

After a relatively long night (not really, it was the shortest day of our lives - 17 hours instead of 24), we landed in the Rome airport. It was crowded, run down (but clean), and completely not American. We found our transfer to the hotel fairly easily and caught a ride with another girl on our tour into the city. And then the real adventures began...

Stay tuned for Day 2!

Marked one thing off my resolution list!

I'm sure most of you know that I passed the bar (finally!), but I figured that it wasn't official until I blogged about it and marked it off my year's resolutions.

See:

2. Pass the bar.

Done.

Just before we left for Italy, the swearing-in ceremony was held. Mom, Dad, Mar, Jeff, Kat, and baby Henry were all there! And Matt too, but that's a given. I mean, all that's tying him up these days is golf, but that's for another post.

In case the stricken through text and my word didn't convince you, here are some pictures. After all, a photo is worth a thousand words and since I can't bill for the time it takes me to type out all those words, I opted for the photos.

Kat and Jeff were there! On a Thursday no less!

Mom and Daddy! And Daddy's smiling!!

Matt shaved! Just for me. Yes, I do feel special!

The only picture of Marla. #photographerfail. But I'm so glad she was there!

Katie Grr had the same tough journey as me. Thank goodness we made it out alive. And licensed.

Finally! Baby Henry smiling at me!

Six pictures. Six thousand words. I just saved us both a lot of time. You are welcome.

Trivial Pursuits

Lately I've been somewhat obsessed with grooming. I know, it isn't a bad thing for me. I could stand a little bit more girlyness. When I say "obsessed," I should say that I'm obsessed with thinking about it. I haven't actually done anything. My eyebrows could stand some fine-tuning, my face would be better if I wore more than just mascara to work, my hair desperately needs some TLC. But you know what, I've got plans. Next Tuesday I'm getting these not-so-luscious locks put back in their place and getting some brow work done. Even more rare though, I'm going to take myself to the nail salon on Saturday. I've worked hard on leaving my nails (and nail beds) alone these past couple of months so I could look nice and now, it's finally paying off.

Come Saturday I can proudly walk into the nail salon and not getting reprimanded for the shabby state of my cuticules or the actual lack of nails on my fingers. Granted, I probably won't understand half of what my manicurist says to me anyway, but that's beside the point. I understand looks of disgust just fine.

Anyway. I need to decide on a nail color. Normally, I'm a clear, light pink, let's-not-draw-attention-to-my-hands kind of girl. But I'm in the mood for something bold. I've got a wedding to go to Saturday night and I'll most likely wear a navy blue dress. Here's what struck my fancy while I was perusing the world wide web:

I have no interest in nails like these. Pinterest, you can keep them.

I'm leaning towards the gold. I'm not sure why, but man, it's pretty. Though, I'm a fan of the purple and green too. What do you think? Got any other polish suggestions for me and my navy dress?

Turtle slain; Giselle arrested

WARNING!! Gruesome photos to follow. We request that parents escort young children out of range of this broadcast.

There she is, looking all sweet and innocent, snuggling with Turtle. Don't be fooled. She was actually plotting the soft animal's brutal murder.

Just a few hours after this picture was taken, the residents of *42 Wallaby Way woke up to discover that Turtle had been viciously attacked and had perished during the night.

The authorities were called. Poor Turtle was taken away and evidence collected.

Literally, the stuffing had been beaten out of Turtle during an attack of unknown duration. All evidence indicates that Turtle never knew it was coming.

Here's the point of maximum impact. The death blow.

The only suspect, Giselle Hoffmann, has been taken into custody. So far, she's been charged with second-degree murder. Giselle has refused the assistance of counsel and is fully cooperating with the authorities. The people of Wallaby Way are confused and stunned by Giselle's charges, but aren't surprised that she's been arrested for a violent act. It seems that Giselle has a habit of roughing up helpless animals. One person showed us this picture of another recent alleged victim of Giselle's but refused to give the victim's name.

We can only hope that authorities are correct in their belief of Giselle's guilt and the culprit has been apprehended. Now we must wait and watch to see if Turtle will get the justice he deserves.

*Address changed to protect the innocent