MaternalLee

Pregnancy does hilarious things to a gal. She gets huge and grouchy; hates things she once loved and is compelled to consume revolting foods like V8 vegetable juice and Spaghetti-os. I experienced the rainbow of conditions and symptoms associated with pregnancy this time around, but never realized that relating with my neighbor, Lee would fall into one of those categories.

Things slow down when a woman becomes pregnant, and life's demands are reassessed. For me, all forms of exercise came to a halt, my otherwise healthy diet took a back seat to whatever garbage I could eat without puking, and my obsession with a clean kitchen became more of a theory. Complications early in the pregnancy prevented me from doing anything involving cardiovascular force. The most exertion I expelled was with my 3 year old; lifting him and kicking the soccer ball around, kicking him and lifting the soccer ball.. That type of thing. Around month 5 I began having dreams about sprinting through a grassy meadow, legs extended with the wind blowing my hair and clothes. As I remembered myself my footing became sludgy, and my sprint soon became more like armless swimming. I awoke feeling sad and heavy, looking forward to birth in a whole new way. It occurred to me that my neighbor, Lee and I had more in common physically than we ever had before.


Lee's physique is a geometric and physical conundrum. The angles created by his belly and his hip/upper thigh area are perplexing. The tight drum that is his stomach has the same qualities as a pregnant belly. Pale, silvery stretch marks around the flattened navel, protuberance at the fundus beyond that which seems possible. The harsh meeting of the lowest part of the belly to the groin... Pants which refuse to suspend themselves at an appropriate level revealing a plumber's crack/gangsta sag in tandem. Shirts that don't quite button over the midsection and won't cover the bottom 3 inches of the stomach. All of this occurred to me one afternoon as we were both engaged in the same activity: sitting in the yard doing nothing.

Months 6-9 of my pregnancy were spent in discomfort. My usual activities of gardening, biking, running, hiking and swimming were replaced with sitting, reclining, waddling, and lifting 3 lb dumbells. I was trapped in my body and the least amount of activity made my uterus contract, my round ligaments ache and my sciatic nerves zap themselves into a frenzy, sending lightning pains through my lower back into my knees. I longed to have my body back and promised to work hard at being healthy and fit as soon as the baby came. I noticed that Lee complained about his back and knees all the time. He has a bike that he rides to the store and the library that is electric, but he still has to pedal it up steep hills. Amazing. How could someone with the weight distribution of a reverse weeble-wobble manage to position them self on a bike AND pedal it uphill? I couldn't even look at my bike when I was pregnant. Just seeing the seat made my pelvis ache. I decided to offer Lee a ride whenever I went out.


The next day Fox and I were leaving the house on our way to the library, and Lee was milling around his yard with a backpack. I asked him if he wanted to come to the library with us and he said yes, as long as I would take him by the tobacco outlet and the grocery store. We left the house and were driving down Island Home Avenue when Lee yelled "HEY SLOW DOWN UP HERE!"

I slammed on the breaks imagining I had either hit an animal or hauled ass past a cop, but Lee continued, "Jus up here one er two more houses... THARE! That house right thare!"

He pointed toward a tiny house with a covered porch and a steep driveway.

"Pull up in thare" He demanded.

I slowly eased the truck into the driveway and wondered what we were doing there when Lee explained; "Back in the 70s I put a new toilet in 'at house. I knew th'man who owned it an he give me a lawnmower t'fix at bathroom up"

As I sat there looking at the house, I realized that Lee was relishing the moment. As strange of a point of interest as it was, I completely understood Lee's motivation. He was including me in his life history with an explanation. He continued the story of the man, and how he knew him through his grandmother who lived in Vestal. The man had a few houses in the area that he rented out, and his grandmother lived in one of his properties. He wanted to drive to Vestal to show me his grandmother's old place, but we didn't have time.

Lee told me that one time, back in the 70s, his friend had a baby that refused to nurse and went 17 days without eating. He ordered her to take that baby "up 'ere an see my grandmother", so they went seeking advice about the starving infant. Within a few minutes of their arrival, Lee's grandmother discovered that the baby's tongue was malformed preventing the child's ability to suck. She gave the baby some sort of sustenance and went with it's mother to the hospital. Lee then told me the name of the baby, and I realized that he was still in communication with the child and his mother. The baby's name is Christian, and he is now 12 or 13 years old. Lee invites him and his mother over to eat supper with him a couple times a week and feels responsible for the kid in some way. He even built the kid a bike. As dangerous as that bike is, how wonderfully touching is it that Lee felt like giving it to this kid. He said that he had to "look after 'em" since his granny saved his life.

Feeling teary and sentimental, I told Lee that he was a great friend to Christian and his mother, and to Jason, Fox and I. He looked at me like I had just punched myself in the face and had a bloody nose, then thanked me for the ride and hopped out of the car.

fountains and fountains

In the land of yard art, yard sales and the torch of independent spirit nothing seems to surprise me much. Everyone in my neighborhood has something extraneous in their yard, be it a makeshift water fountain, multi colored bottles poised on tree limbs, non-functional vehicles, or "sculptures" consisting of household refuse. The degree of the typical Tennessean's "mark" on their yards is exclusive to this place and time.
Since moving to my neighborhood in spring of 2006 I've kept an extensive mental journal detailing the most interesting yards in the area. Today I would like to investigate the two most notable water features.
I noticed the first case over a year ago when there was a warm spell in early March. There was a guy out in his yard lugging bricks to a section of his yard that bordered the busy, semi-retail/commercial street. He was thin and wiry with skin the color of a hot dog despite the season. His hair was long and stringy kinda like a metal front man's, and he was wearing women's, boot cut jeans. I saw him as I drove down the street going 35 mph and had just enough time to remark on the mysterious project he was hard at work on, and the extremely obese woman sitting on the front porch of his house.
The next day I took Fox to the park in his stroller. While he played I could hear someone tink, tink, tinking away at a masonry substrate, and the faint sound of rock music. Fox was getting sleepy and began to whine about chocolate milk, so I decided to treat him to a Mayfield Chug at the Handy Dandy Market. We strolled in and got the milk and Fox settled into the stroller with his treat. As we exited the store, I remembered the guy with the bricks and decided to walk another block so I could pass his yard. I slowed my pace to a hobble which would both make me look more authentically SoKnox (as most pedestrians hobble), and allow me a longer view of the yard without revealing myself as a Looky-loo.
The guy was out with his brick pile and a hammer and chisel removing cement from the bricks with meticulous care. His aviator glasses were dark and mirrored so I wasn't able to tell if he saw me coming; just to be safe I gave him a nod. He paused for a moment, then assuming he had just imagined my signal, looked back at the lumpy brick in his hand. He had started stacking the cleaned bricks in a rectangular column which was roughly two feet high. There were lots of PVC pipes and connectors laying around, and a large, blue tarp anchored by two orange traffic cones. His house looked like it was about 600 square feet, which made me understand why he wanted to maximize his yard by flexing his home-making muscles in the out of doors, and there was no sign of the big woman.
The entire scene was effectively burned into my mind-journal, and I started imagining what he was working on.
The next day Fox and I didn't go anywhere, and that night our friend and neighbor, Dan came over for a visit. "Have you seen that guy on South Haven?!" was the first thing to come out of his mouth!
Relieved that I wasn't becoming a socially deprived stalker, I excitedly compared notes with him and we shared our theories regarding the form and function of the dude's project. We were equally tantalized by this mystery, again, much to my relief.
Dan's wife Adrienne and I called or emailed each other daily with progress reports or interesting sightings at the man's home, and we finally realized what he was creating; a water feature.
He had lined the interior walls of the rectangular column with the tarp, and used extra bricks to weigh it down on the top rim. A water hose had been run through a PVC pipe with an "elbow" joiner on the end, so the water came out at an angle. The pressure was a bit too high and it looked like a geyser on the end of a stick, or a plumbing blow-out accident. In fact, I noticed a few of the bricks were pushed out from the pressure.
The following weekend Dan, Adrienne and I talked at great length about the fountain and it's attributes. The next day I drove by and the entire thing was disassembled! The bricks were all back in a tidy stack, the tarp back on the ground with the cones, and the piping on the tarp. I was more than disappointed. While shopping at the grocery store I thought about the fountain and how it hadn't been so bad! Just a little off! What possessed him to take the thing apart?
Driving home from the store I saw the man hard at work rebuilding the fountain, only this time he stacked the bricks side to side instead of end to end, and had painted the interior pale blue like the inside of a swimming pool. As soon as I got home I called Adrienne at work and told her about the progression. She promised to take that route home to see.
The next day Fox and I walked by the house and beheld the magic! The column was three feet high and the PVC water pipe was sticking straight up in the center of the basin. The pressure was still too high so now it really looked like a geyser! At 20 feet away on the other side of the road we could feel the over spray! Cars driving by were creeping by to get a look!
Over the next two weeks many revisions took place; two flood lights pointed at the water spray, a coat of blue enamel on the exposed PVC, and finally some orange and white "go vols" pom poms attached to the corners. It was almost more than I could bear; I had to meet this man.
We left for a long weekend in Asheville and when we returned everything was different, again. The column shape was gone and in exchange was a low, wide basin similar to the dimensions of a koi pond, and the pipe was so low to the ground it couldn't be seen by passers by. The flood lights had been mounted to two tobacco stakes placed behind the fountain, and the stakes were painted blue. The flood lights provided an interesting effect on the water, but a blinding one on my eyes when I was driving by after dark.
Each day was something new with the fountain. It provided us with tons of conversation and anticipation all summer long, then one day it was gone, replaced by the blue tarp and cones. By winter time there was no trace left of the fountain, neither brick nor pipe.
I had almost forgotten about the fountain till the other day when I saw it.

That satellite dish that you see there was inverted, forming a basin in the brick part and the water pipe was in the center. It was a-m-a-z-i-n-g! I was thrilled not only to see the fountain again, but to see the MORTAR between the bricks! It sure seemed permanent! When I took this picture I figured that he was working on the plumbing and was going to replace the satellite to it's original position.
Then the man exited his house with two mousy shi-zus trailing wearing his tight girl jeans, a baby doll midriff-bearing shirt, and carrying a bunch of junk.

It was then that I noticed something about this man that I never had before. He looked like a lady in the face.

"Ladyface"

I have studied these pictures at great length and magnification and I can't figure it out; is he a masculine lady or a soft-featured man? I can gather from the photos that there are: zero breasts

zero package bulge

there are lady jeans

scoop neck, midriff-bearing babydoll tee

manly back but without hair

lap dogs

biceps

has a lady face

As you can tell there are a few questions left unanswered.
While I was out I decided to check out the other contender in the "best water feature in SoKno" contest. Although it does deserve mention with it's mini Christmas tree and garland, it pales in comparison to the satellite idea. I will make an official decision when ladyface gets finished.

3/27/2008 Chocolate Lifestyle

This Easter was the first time my 20 month old son really got to eat chocolate. He had tasted it before on a couple of occasions, each taste making him loose his mind, resulting in some sort of catastrophe and ultimately an early bedtime. It was as if the devil entered his tiny body making him forget about his own physical form and all of the people around who loved him. His pupils appeared dilated, he had jerky movements and a tighter than normal grip. All of his normal, sweet composure disappeared, replaced with the desperation of the runt of a feral dog litter somewhere in India. The urgency in his pleas for more chocolate scared me and made me realize that he was truly my son.

Easter Sunday we all sat down at my mother’s dining room table with a Rockwell-esque feast laid before us; sweet potatos with marshmallows, uncle Steve’s famous green beans, seven layer salad, homemade cranberry sauce, apple sauce, a BIG ass ham, mashed potatoes and gravy, and those dinner rolls that look like the Swedish Chef’s face. My son ate two or three bites of dinner then acted like he was stuffed beyond our comprehension, so we entertained him for the duration of the banquet. As everyone began throwing in their towels, Mom emerged with a pie and a cake, and then presented Fox with his own Easter basket. More of a laundry basket, it hulked over Fox’s head in his baby seat giving him an eye-level view of it’s contents. The composition of the basket broke down like this:
1%-Jack and the Beanstalk DVD-(sucky)
1%-easter grass-(?)
2%-funny bunny easter glasses-(now broken)
96%-foil wrapped chocolate candies; solid, hollow and filled varieties.
The Pagan spirits must have smiled down upon this exemplary nest of goodness! It was the embodiment of the "ideal" choco-fertility offering to Goddess Eostre providing high calorie blessings to fuel reproduction many times over!

Immediately I went for a Recces Peanut butter egg; it was like an automatic reaction over which I held no command. Mom gave me the stink eye and asked me to wait till she could get some pictures. I told her that I wasn’t sure if that was possible, but I’d try.

Slowly the realization set in and Fox comprehended that there was enough chocolate to kill a mule at his fingertips. He tore into a cellophane bag containing a hollow bunny and eggs wrapped in foil, and before I could hoist the gigantic basket to the floor he had eaten four eggs. There were festive flecks of foil gathering in the folds of his clothes, and Fox was consuming the orbs in their entirety.

The display caused me great anxiety and mild disgust. Butterflies filled my stomach as I thought to myself "what the heck is going to happen when Fox is full of chocolate?". It had never happened before, and from what I had gathered by his dabbling in the substance he was going to pull some Tazmanian devil shit straight to the moon!

Immediately I gained control of the situation by removing the basket from his vicinity while he polished off the stock pile he had arranged on the tray in front of himself. When he got to the last egg, he had an entire one in his mouth already, one he was removing the foil from in his hand, and the last one waiting in the wings of his table. As soon as he had swallowed the bulk of the candy in his mouth he jammed the one in his hand in, and seeing that there was one left he started the wild begging.

What’s so bad about having eaten five milk chocolate eggs, having another entire one in your mouth, and another one in your hand? Is the idea that you can’t go on eating chocolate into infinity horrible enough for such a tantrum? Is life not worth living if your chocolate provisions get stolen away from you just like that?



Fox and I know the answers to those questions. Oh yeah and nothing out of the ordinary happened. As soon as he threw the initial "where the hell did all my chocolate go, it was just right here and now it’s gone" fit, Fox was cool. Chocolate is food, after all. Not that it is going to be the basis of Fox’s diet or anything, but during a few holiday seasons I don’t see the harm. Valentines day (season), Easter (season), Mother’s and Father’s day (it really isn’t fair for adults to eat chocolate and forbid their children), Fox’s birthday in July, my birthday in August, Halloween (season), and finally Christmas (season).

That’s it!