August 31, 2005
What Do We Do?
We help.
Posted by hannah at 10:23 AM | Comments (0)
August 25, 2005
Here am I
Right now my mom, stepfather, aunt and uncle are on a cruise ship, floating somewhere off the coast of Ireland. They left last Friday for this two week adventure that is taking them to France, Holland, Brussels, Ireland and Scotland before a five day trip back to the states via the Port of New York. Trust me when I say I was a nervous wreck the night they flew out. As I've mentioned before, my flying fear is ever present, and this extends to people like my mother flying across an OCEAN for the first time in her 62-year life. She called me from their connection in Chicago and told me she was a bit nervous, but that you know, when it's your time, it's your time! (to be said in a chipper manner), and that she would try and figure out how to work a calling card but that I could reach them on the phone my uncle Bill rented for the trip, "But it's $4 a minute, so only if it's an emergency!"
I tacked their itinerary on my bulletin board at work, so every day I can see where they are, and imagine all the fun they're having and crazy stories they're sure to return with. I just hope my mom's digital camera keeps all the photos she takes and that she eventually figures out how to get them off the camera, onto her computer and into an e-mail to send to me. (This may never happen.)
For the past three days there's been a card or a letter in my mailbox from her. On the back of yesterday's envelope there was a little "22" written in the upper corner, so now I'm assuming I can look forward to a letter a day while she's away, and that she numbered them for her sister so she would know on what day to drop which letter in the mail. This is so my mother, that in her preparations for literally the trip of her lifetime, to wanted to ensure that I know she loves me and that she's thinking of me, even an ocean away, in a foreign land she probably figured she'd never see.
In yesterday's card was a passage from one of her favorite hymns (and though she didn't know it, one of mine), "Take My Life."
Take my life and let it be
Consecrated, Lord, to Thee
Take my moments and my days
Let them flow in ceaseless praise
Take my hands and let them move
At the impulse of Thy love
Take my feet and let them be
Swift and beautiful for Thee
- Frances R. Havergal, 1874
She lives every day in this manner - it doesn't matter if she's in Small Town, Ohio or standing on a beach in Normandy. She is, simply, everything to me and I am ever grateful that God blessed me with such a mother. We're more alike than often I know, and my daily prayer is that this remains true and that it remains true for the remainder.
Posted by hannah at 05:52 PM | Comments (0)
Sweet Teegs
J0shua took this one of Montego when he watched her for me while I was in Florida last week. He said she was pretty lethargic the first few days, I guess she missed me, but that she got used to being there and that they had a big time. His friend Mike was in town visiting as well, and I can only imagine what trouble the three of them got in to: two boys and their dog.
He dropped her off last Friday, a few hours after I got home, as he and Mike were on their way down to a Braves game. I could tell Tego was sad to see him go. She's the kind of dog who loves me when no one else is around, but pretty much prefers others over her master. And she prefers J0shua the most. Who can blame her?
Posted by hannah at 04:02 PM | Comments (0)
August 24, 2005
Yardwork
I did something this weekend that I've been avoiding specifically for months, but really avoiding my entire life - I mowed my yard.
I purchased the mower in early July, but had yet to actually use it myself. (It's been used, just by people who are not me), and when I bought it, the male friend who went with me was a little worried that I wouldn't be able to start it. "I'm a strong girl," I told him as I handed him my (fake) Louis to hold. "Watch." I went to pull the starter string (cord? pully?) and it wouldn't even budge. He laughed that kind of laugh where you burst into a laugh with such incredulousness that it comes out like a horse's whinny. He grabbed my hand and pushed my fingers over the handle - the part you have to hold down to keep the engine running. I then proved I could pull the cord with enough strength to start the thing. (And keep my miniskirt down.)
On Sunday, when the grass (and my local municipality) could stand it no more, I waited till dusk, doused myself with bug spray, tied Tego to the porch and pulled my mower out of its storage space.
And then I couldn't figure out how to start it. Pulling the cord? Nada. I checked the gas and it was full. I looked around a few times, simultaneously hoping a neighbor would be in sight and would also be nowhere to be seen. After a few more pulls, I called my friend Mary so she could ask her husband how to start a lawnmower. "He's in the bathroom," she said. "But I'll ask anyway." (Ah, marriage.) Just as I could hear him yelling through the door, "Did she prime it?" I saw a bright red button that said PUSH 3X TO PRIME YOU IDIOT GIRL. I pushed it three times, pulled the cord, and the motor roared to life. Mary and I screamed at the same time, an exuberant shout for all womankind.
It barely took 20 minutes to complete the front yard and I got only a minor scrape on my ankle from a wayward stick or pinecone, so I was exceedingly proud of myself.
Maybe I'll do it again next year.
Posted by hannah at 05:52 PM | Comments (3)
August 22, 2005
Mojo on the Beach
Florida was fantastic, but I now miss Mo like crazy. Sometimes I wonder why I left Ohio at all, especially on days like today when it's hot, I'm cranky and Atlanta just seems to like keeping me down.
Posted by hannah at 01:41 PM | Comments (0)
August 17, 2005
Daiquiri Deck
Mo and I are sitting at Daiquiri Deck, in the middle of the village, getting brain freezes on fronzen margaritas and green parrots. It's hotter than Hades and even spf 30 hasn't kept the tan away. Our days so far have consisted of beach in the morning, shopping in the afternoons, swimming in the evening and early nights in. When we were here five years ago, this bar was our mainstay. Now it's where we come in the middle of the day to cool down because the sun's rays are too strong. What can we say, we're old. Having a great time. Wish you were here and all that jazz. Someone pass the zinc.
Posted by hannah at 03:56 PM | Comments (0)
August 12, 2005
On the Road
As we speak, my friend and former roommate, Mo, is speeding down I-75 on her way here for our vacation to Florida. We took a similar trip together five years ago, but in 2000 we took a detour to Orlando and spent two days (and one million dollars) at Disneyworld. I remember at the time how excited I was to get back to Columbus and record the trip in the online journal I was about to start. As it turns out, I don't think I ever wrote about that vacation, but it certainly would've made for some interesting reading.
Mo and I are incredibly different people at 29 than we were at 24 - neither of us are any longer citizens of Columbus and Mo is now on staff at a flourishing non-denominational church in the 'Nati where it is so obvious that she belongs and was been called to be there, and that is a thought that those two girls who partied in Downtown Disney never would've fathomed - but she is as important to me now as she was then. She is the kind of friend people search their entire lives for, the kind of friend people tell you they are blessed to have, and I know how lucky I am that even though we live 500 miles apart, I'm still the person she wants to make the long drive to Florida with.
Posted by hannah at 04:43 PM | Comments (0)
August 11, 2005
Car Wheels and Those Three Days
I'm meeting friends for dinner at Zocalo in about two hours, before we venture over to the Botanical Gardens for the Lucinda Williams concert. I just got an e-mail from Allison that said simply RAINING CATS AND DOGS, so who knows if this show will even happen.
It's strange - four years ago I would've been unable to sit still at the prospect of seeing Lucinda in the flesh in mere hours. But now, several years, relationships and live shows later, I feel just sort of "eh" about it. I didn't even bust out any of her albums to prep for the show. Now, in my defense, I've had a lot going on lately - prepping for my Florida vacation next week, book club, going to the gym. (I have to actual schedule this is my planner or else I won't go, so it counts as something that keeps me "busy.") Still, no pre-concert butterflies.
The first time I saw Lucinda live was March 2001 at a South by Southwest show in Austin, Texas. I was there for "work," but really was there to hang out with Al and her (now husband) Chris (the CHRIS) and other friends. On the second night, the night Ryan Adams and Lucinda headlined the day with a large venue show(each were promoting their upcoming relesses Heartbreaker and Essence respectively), I was in total infatuation with one of the guys in the group. Because it was my first Lucinda experience, and I was standing next to someone I really, really liked, and there were several Shiners and about a hundred Marlboros consumed, the Lucinda and this relationship have always been intricately intertwined.
That night and weekend (three days, as it turned out) developed into a relationship that was utterly defined by Lucinda's music. Over that next year or two, I saw her live several more times and I was always thinking of him. (As we lived thousands of miles apart and saw each other not-too-frequently.)
After we "broke up" (or ended whatever it was that we were ending), Teri told me that it's not really a good thing when you can see your relationship in Lucinda's songs, as they are often (though not always) yearning, painful lyrical tributes to sick love. Four years, a move to Atlanta, and a new relationship later, I get that. And I will admit, I don't miss the days I would hide under my covers, her albums on repeat, relating all too well to her sadness and lonliness put down in song.
Tonight, as I hear her play and wonder how anyone can be so simultaneously talented and despaired, the Atlanta skyline will peek out from behind the trees of Piedmont Park and I'll know that I changed the locks and I no longer envy the wind.
Posted by hannah at 05:02 PM | Comments (1)
August 09, 2005
The Bride
Sarah bought her wedding dress on Sunday, and we chose our bridesmaids' dresses as well. The wedding is Feb. 18, on a beach in Jamaica, so she (and we) needed something light and something that would travel well. It's difficult to find a wedding dress that isn't 1,232 layers and hot as heck. But luckily The Dress made itself known, and as soon as she put it on, we all knew it was the one.
Mary and I both had pretty firm ideas on what kind of bridesmaid dress we wanted to wear, and luckily our visions were pretty similar. I love what we chose.
Three years ago I went with Allison to this same bridal salon (New Natalie's*), and I remember so clearly sitting on the benches and watching her try on dresses, and it was the same sensation. When she tried on Her Dress for the first time, we all just knew it was the one.
Being surrounded by all the white and tulle didn't make me long for a husband or marriage, but it sure did make me long for a wedding. I wish there were a way to work that out. Anyone want to throw a wedding with me?
*If you live in Atlanta and are in need of a wedding gown, I highly highly recommend you get yourself to New Natalie's. Why pay three to four times as much at a boutique when warehouse-style NN has all the same dresses for so much less? It seems like a no brainer to me, but all those brides trying on gowns at Saks might not have gotten the memo.
Posted by hannah at 02:36 PM | Comments (4)
August 08, 2005
Fly Away
I’m not sure where it came from, but over the course of the past few years, I have developed a fairly severe fear of flying. It’s gotten to the point now where even thinking about myself on a plane causes my heart to beat faster and my head to feel swimmy.
It’s a strange, unusual thing and it becomes even crazier when you realize that flying has always been a big part of my life. My father received his pilot’s license at the age of 17 and bought his first plane in 1981, when I was five years old. We flew everywhere – to Ohio for our summer vacation; to Florida to visit his father on Spring Break; to Conroe or San Antonio on a random Saturday morning for pancakes. As I got older, it was a special treat for me to take friends up and fly over our neighborhoods, picking out our houses among the trees. I understood things like turbulence and weather patterns in a real, scientific way. When I was in college he would fly into Miami’s small airport and take me home to my mom’s for the weekend, or all the way back to Texas for summer break. I have spent many clear-skied days in my father’s Cessna, and even a scare in 1990 didn’t stop me from flying with him. As a child I would put on the headset and sing into the mouthpiece, loving the way my voice sounded through the earphones. (Due to this habit, I was almost always disconnected from everyone else’s headsets.) When my bother went off to college, and it was just my dad and me, and I finally got to sit in the front seat, I would follow the plane’s shadow on the ground for as long as I could. (Even today, that is one of the visuals I use to calm myself on take-off – the sight of his plane’s shadow growing smaller and smaller as we rose higher and higher.)
My history with commercial flying isn’t shallow either, as after the divorce my mom and I had to get to Ohio somehow. In my college years and adulthood, travel has been a fairly large part of my life. When I was with the Brand I flew to California, the Florida Keys, Chicago and Minnesota. In this job I take several trips a year, one of them always outside the country.
When my girlfriends and I went to Spain in spring 2001, my only concern about the trip was whether I would get jet lag or if the plane would show crappy movies. Soaring over the Atlantic, I slept soundly, awaking to see the Spanish countryside below our wings.
And then… somehow fear. At first I was just a little jumpy when there was turbulence or on take-off. But now it’s progressed to where I can’t even think about flying or visualize myself on a plane 30,000 feet above the ground. Flying to Texas for Thanksgiving last year I somehow ended up on a Continental Express Jet and the turbulence was so terrible after take-off that I became that person who cries. I CRIED, I was so afraid. And I wonder, who was that girl who would fly all the way to L.A. and not think a thing of it? Was it the ignorance of youth, or has something that radical changed in me?
And as a Christian – as someone who genuinely believes in God’s plan and eternal life and that I have nothing to fear from death – I feel like a failure and a fake when I feel the terror creeping in. But even though I pray for peace and certainty that His hand is on me; even though I rationally realize I have more reason to be afraid tearing up I-75 on a daily basis; even though, even though, even though… I can’t help but be afraid.
Between September and February, I will be flying to: Orlando, Puerto Rico, Houston and Jamaica. I can’t even begin to describe to you the kind of anxiety I feel when I think about being stuck on a plane, over the OCEAN, for four hours. So instead I try to focus on the sandy beaches and infinity pools that await me on the other side. I try to focus on the blessings I’ve been given, the opportunities that afford me these journeys, but yet still the fear is there.
My first trip is in a little less than six weeks. I don’t want to dread it, but I’m not really sure how to get over it.
Posted by hannah at 05:53 PM | Comments (4)
August 02, 2005
Ferry Landing
Originally uploaded by Hannah Beth.
I went to Savannah on Saturday, and I'm not sure if you know this, but Savannah sure does have a lot of ship traffic. Maybe it's that whole "river city" thing.
It's such a great town, much like New Orleans without the implication that you have to take your top off to have a good time. It's old and smells wet and river-y all the time, and the t-shirts for sale mostly have to do with getting drunk, but it's also haunted and romantic and they feed you Grouper fingers.
Posted by hannah at 09:20 AM | Comments (1)
