June 7, 2010

Today was a perfect day. It is now 7 pm and I was just outside. There is a sense of relief when the sun goes down and hot gives way to warm. It is now breezy and a comfortable 26 Celsius. Funny that I now think 26 C is comfortable. But it does seem like a nice Hawaiian evening. Yeah, just like that except the beach is a 4-hour drive east, or south but that one has oil all over it, or soon will.

Earlier I ran over to Piedmont Avenue and back. The sun was still up and although it was 6 pm, it was scorching. I was sweating like a human being (who has a disgusting sweat disorder) and annoyed by all the traffic. It took me longer than I thought. Irritatingly, the sidewalks along East Rock Springs keep ending and then continuing on the other side of the street. As Georgie likes to say now, "What the!" So I was on the road a lot, with the excellent Atlanta drivers. I went through 20 oz of Gatorade but was still parched. I ran past the beautiful homes. Lovely large brick houses with nice yards for under a million. Hard to believe.

I don't usually run that way but I had to go to Smith's Olde Bar to pick up tickets to Blue Rodeo, playing in concert tomorrow night. The poster outside reads: "Direct from Canada, Blue Rodeo!" It is hard to see how that will be a selling point. Hey, that band is from Canada, let's go! No, Canada is not cool in the south. Harmless, and maybe and a little silly but not cool. Oh sure, the democrats admire our health care and some Yankees who have found themselves marooned here have an almost positive view of the great white north. But, Canada is such a long way away and just sort of... irrelevant.

Now the sun is down and the fireflies have begun their nightly performance in the front yard. The girls are in bed chatting up a storm. Most nights recently, the girls and I have gone outside to watch the fireflies. From a distance they look like the end of a cigarette, glowing while someone takes a drag. They hover, slowly falling closer and closer to the grass then have a burst of energy and rise sharply. That's the moment their tails light up. It's like they have little afterburners. They are really active just before dusk until it is dark then they seem to disappear. Who knows where they go. One was in our living room recently. Weird looking thing, almost like a elongated beetle. Gudrun didn't believe it was a firefly until I took it outside. It flew around for a while until one of his compadres came by and they flashed each other. Dirty little buggers.

Today was Georgie's first day of camp and Elise's first day in her new class. It all went swimmingly, though drop-off was a nightmare. All the CDC and Emory parents were on site at 8:30, their SUVs choking the parking lot. One Cilfton mom told me once, "I won't drive a car again" and then jumped in her BMW monster. She then drove off down the road, talking (texting?) on the phone, and ran over two (o)possums and a squirrel. People like her probably are the ones responsible for all the roadkill. They can't possibly see those critters from way up there. I thought Vancouver was SUV crazy until I came here. SUVs and huge pick-up trucks. Now if the US would stop keeping the price of gas so low, these folks would really start to sweat.

My friend Jim and I headed out to Tucker after our girls were happy in class. His daughter Maya is in camp with Georgie. Tucker, Georgia is just outside the perimeter. Our destination was the Heritage Golf Club. We had no illusions about playing such a fancy course, we just wanted to use their practice facility. And god knows, we could use the practice. We had heard they have a big putting green, sand bunkers, chipping areas and a driving range. Heritage was until recently owned by NBA legend and Atlanta resident Doctor J. He had a dream to bring in all sorts of celebrities and celebrity tournaments here but that dream died when the place went bankrupt. Charles Barkley and Hank Haney did visit during the ill-fated "Haney Project" attempt to cure Barkley's yippy swing. I think the hard times on the course actually benefited us. An attendant came to ask if we needed help carrying our clubs. We told him we were just driving range scum but he still treated us well! Turns out Jim has a friend who works there and has offered to get us on for next to nothing. Well, nothing for Jim, 25 dollars for me. It might have been my questionable attire. Jim looks the part of a golfer while I look more like a greens keeper. I am Bill Murray to his Chevy Chase. Before we actually play there though, I am going to have to stock up on golf balls. There are some big lakes there and reportedly a Sawgrass-style island green.

We had a great time getting ready for our game tomorrow at East Lake. We putted on the 15-on-the-stimpmeter greens, hacked out of the bunkers and slashed many outrageously bad shots down the range. A few good ones thrown in for good measure too, most of them care of Jim. It is customer appreciation day tomorrow at our "home course" and we will be playing a free round of golf, along with about 500 other golfers. Jim and I have played there three times and my score gets worse every time. I swear I am playing better but the scorecard does not lie.

Jim gave me some photos he took of our last field trip. I am becoming increasingly aware that my time here is short and Jim has been a good friend and golfing buddy. The photos are nice shots of Maya and Georgie having lunch at Chic Fil-A, and some of Jim and his wife and girls. Chic Fil-A is basically a chicken sandwich fast food joint. It is huge here and they even sponsor the college football opening game, held in Atlanta. Our field trip was last week with Maya, Georgie, Elise and Maya's little sister Alexa. The dads and the girls. Gudrun was back in Vancouver and Jim's wife Lore was at her job at the CDC. Before lunch we explored a new park, with trails that Maya was especially keen on. Georgie was less enthused when we came upon a snake. It was either a very large garter snake or a teeny tiny pit viper. I will stick to the pit viper story, though I know they don't exist here. (They are fresh in my mind because I just read about a little Afghan boy, bitten by a pit viper, deathly ill, refused treatment by the US military... then a change of heart, a Blackhawk airlift, touch and go for a few hours in the field ICU and an eventual return to good health) There are vipers here, not the least of which is the deadly copperhead, a snake that I can't seem to stop mentioning in this blog. Note to self: take "snake whacking stick" on next walk in the woods. Maybe then I will take a page from my old favourite comic strip, "Bloom County" and in error beat the life out of a spark plug cable from a '73 Ford Pinto. Just like Opus and his buddies did.