History Lessons

We grow up learning the history of our state from a very early age. Even though I've been a Hoosier ex-pat since 99 I could still pretty accurately tell you the story of the Pigeon roost massacre, the Battle of Tippecanoe, the New Harmony community (like Shakers but not Shakers) and other intricacies of that boot shaped place. I know that Clinton is as far east as Prairie grass grows, and that The Region is a real place. I can tell you how my own family came to Indiana after the revolutionary war (land grant), where they settled (Nineveh) and the true stories of how we got to where I sit now in the grand scheme of things.

My kids are learning a different history and sometimes that's weird to me. They are learning the history of the place they are from, Georgia.

They are learning the lessons of tornadoes that caused devastation, and families that created a local art form that is legendary.

What is a little interesting is that it's seeping into my own brain. I knew as soon as we came into this room at the Northeast Georgia history museum that we were seeing some Meadors family work. It's interesting, that little nugget of history has made it into my collective knowledge base of these 8 years.

Each state has it's own thing, it's own history and it's story. It's what defines the people of that place. It's too bad, in a way, that there isn't enough time in school to learn these intricacies of each state. We'd understand WHY sometimes I think, when we cast our eyes across the Union, if we understood what came before.

 For me Georgia always represented a civil war place and that was about it. But having lived here so long, I've learned that the civil war is just one thing that happened here. Just like the Pigeon Roost massacre is just one thing that happened in Indiana, it doesn't define the whole of the place any more than that. When you don't live here, and you see the snippets of this place, it's easy to see it through the wrong eyes. I think that's true of everywhere.

It's one of the 13 colonies, most people forget that. Folks usually think New England - but no, we are one of them.

Some really amazing things are here, were here, and will be here. I think maybe that's why I like it so much. I dislike being so far from my family, my family beyond my walls. I love being in this foreign place that has become my home, that my children call home.

This stupid snake isn't one of those amazing things though. What on earth would possess someone to make this damn thing. 

"Ceramic snake killed by ex-pat Hoosier" is the first thing that came to my mind upon seeing it. Stupid snake.

History Lessons

We grow up learning the history of our state from a very early age. Even though I've been a Hoosier ex-pat since 99 I could still pretty accurately tell you the story of the Pigeon roost massacre, the Battle of Tippecanoe, the New Harmony community (like Shakers but not Shakers) and other intricacies of that boot shaped place. I know that Clinton is as far east as Prairie grass grows, and that The Region is a real place. I can tell you how my own family came to Indiana after the revolutionary war (land grant), where they settled (Nineveh) and the true stories of how we got to where I sit now in the grand scheme of things.

My kids are learning a different history and sometimes that's weird to me. They are learning the history of the place they are from, Georgia.

They are learning the lessons of tornadoes that caused devastation, and families that created a local art form that is legendary.

What is a little interesting is that it's seeping into my own brain. I knew as soon as we came into this room at the Northeast Georgia history museum that we were seeing some Meadors family work. It's interesting, that little nugget of history has made it into my collective knowledge base of these 8 years.

Each state has it's own thing, it's own history and it's story. It's what defines the people of that place. It's too bad, in a way, that there isn't enough time in school to learn these intricacies of each state. We'd understand WHY sometimes I think, when we cast our eyes across the Union, if we understood what came before.

 For me Georgia always represented a civil war place and that was about it. But having lived here so long, I've learned that the civil war is just one thing that happened here. Just like the Pigeon Roost massacre is just one thing that happened in Indiana, it doesn't define the whole of the place any more than that. When you don't live here, and you see the snippets of this place, it's easy to see it through the wrong eyes. I think that's true of everywhere.

It's one of the 13 colonies, most people forget that. Folks usually think New England - but no, we are one of them.

Some really amazing things are here, were here, and will be here. I think maybe that's why I like it so much. I dislike being so far from my family, my family beyond my walls. I love being in this foreign place that has become my home, that my children call home.

This stupid snake isn't one of those amazing things though. What on earth would possess someone to make this damn thing. 

"Ceramic snake killed by ex-pat Hoosier" is the first thing that came to my mind upon seeing it. Stupid snake.

With Clouds That Climb To The Sky

One of the things I miss most about not living in Indiana (besides the people I love) is the sky. If you never lived in a flat place where you could see forever you won't know what I mean. There is sky so big you can watch a storm roll toward you for an hour, or more. You can see clouds that are like living, breathing monuments to some fluffy white deity rolling and changing across the horizon. Clouds climb, they billow, they stretch into shapes and into themselves. 

Where I live is dense with trees. I took that photo above and you can see the horizon cluttered with trees. It was a beautiful day, storms rolling in and the thunderheads were just beginning their dance. Grey clouds came sliding in beside white billowing beauties heralding the pounding storm that was just behind them.

My son and husband tease me about the clouds endlessly, about my love of them. I once said "We don't have clouds like this in Georgia" when we were in Indiana which they both thought was hysterical. After I got done flipping them both the bird I went back to my cloud worshiping ways in silence. 

Maybe what I meant was, we can't SEE clouds like this in Georgia. Clouds are clouds are clouds. But I no longer have a wallflower's seat at their dance. My view is obscured by the southern belles known as Georgia Pine - their hoop skirts flinging needles and cones and blocking my view.

I'd like a day where I can sit on the edge of an Indiana field and watch the clouds. I'd be glad to snap some beans if you have them, or shell some peas. It's been a while, but I'm a pro. 

With Clouds That Climb To The Sky

One of the things I miss most about not living in Indiana (besides the people I love) is the sky. If you never lived in a flat place where you could see forever you won't know what I mean. There is sky so big you can watch a storm roll toward you for an hour, or more. You can see clouds that are like living, breathing monuments to some fluffy white deity rolling and changing across the horizon. Clouds climb, they billow, they stretch into shapes and into themselves. 

Where I live is dense with trees. I took that photo above and you can see the horizon cluttered with trees. It was a beautiful day, storms rolling in and the thunderheads were just beginning their dance. Grey clouds came sliding in beside white billowing beauties heralding the pounding storm that was just behind them.

My son and husband tease me about the clouds endlessly, about my love of them. I once said "We don't have clouds like this in Georgia" when we were in Indiana which they both thought was hysterical. After I got done flipping them both the bird I went back to my cloud worshiping ways in silence. 

Maybe what I meant was, we can't SEE clouds like this in Georgia. Clouds are clouds are clouds. But I no longer have a wallflower's seat at their dance. My view is obscured by the southern belles known as Georgia Pine - their hoop skirts flinging needles and cones and blocking my view.

I'd like a day where I can sit on the edge of an Indiana field and watch the clouds. I'd be glad to snap some beans if you have them, or shell some peas. It's been a while, but I'm a pro. 

Home vs. HOME

I'm intensely sentimental about the flat place I was raised. I love the endless skies, the fields of corn and soybeans. The drab grey winters are the norm, and I wasn't disappointed in the cars covered with salt (I had forgotten about this) or the general OH GOD THIS IS COLD of Indiana in January. I'm comfortable there, it's like walking back into your tribe. The whipping wind across the fields, the general blah of the weather don't seem to impact anyone - everyone just goes along with life. That's the midwestern way. You make do and go on. It's not too cold, life still has to happen. I enjoyed the week I was there, despite the stress of the fact that we weren't really there for a social trip. My son was fascinated by the way my brother knew so many people, and even people I didn't know I often knew what family we were talking about. That's how it is in places were families settled 100 years ago or more and stayed put.

In Georgia there are probably places like that, but I don't know any of them. I was also reminded that despite the swaddling comfort of the place, I always wanted to get away. I wanted to see other places, be a different person. I succeeded on the first but decided against the latter. I am who I am because of the weird climate & the social norms of the Midwest - and I'm ok with that. Scalding hot summers and blizzards in the winter made me who I am apparently.

What's undeniable is that the place I call home now looks more like this. In fact, this is about 2 miles from my actual home.

That's the oldest standing house in the county, and the forest wraps around behind my own home. The rolling hills and landscaped chocked full of Georgia pines soothe me and make me feel settled now. This is where my coffee cup from the Dali museum waits, complete with a chip in the perfect spot to take a drink. 

My humans are here, the ones whose breathing I often listen to in the night. I can rest for real while I'm here. I sleep harder and I wake easier in this air. 

I miss home. But I love home.

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Home vs. HOME

I'm intensely sentimental about the flat place I was raised. I love the endless skies, the fields of corn and soybeans. The drab grey winters are the norm, and I wasn't disappointed in the cars covered with salt (I had forgotten about this) or the general OH GOD THIS IS COLD of Indiana in January. I'm comfortable there, it's like walking back into your tribe. The whipping wind across the fields, the general blah of the weather don't seem to impact anyone - everyone just goes along with life. That's the midwestern way. You make do and go on. It's not too cold, life still has to happen. I enjoyed the week I was there, despite the stress of the fact that we weren't really there for a social trip. My son was fascinated by the way my brother knew so many people, and even people I didn't know I often knew what family we were talking about. That's how it is in places were families settled 100 years ago or more and stayed put.

In Georgia there are probably places like that, but I don't know any of them. I was also reminded that despite the swaddling comfort of the place, I always wanted to get away. I wanted to see other places, be a different person. I succeeded on the first but decided against the latter. I am who I am because of the weird climate & the social norms of the Midwest - and I'm ok with that. Scalding hot summers and blizzards in the winter made me who I am apparently.

What's undeniable is that the place I call home now looks more like this. In fact, this is about 2 miles from my actual home.

That's the oldest standing house in the county, and the forest wraps around behind my own home. The rolling hills and landscaped chocked full of Georgia pines soothe me and make me feel settled now. This is where my coffee cup from the Dali museum waits, complete with a chip in the perfect spot to take a drink. 

My humans are here, the ones whose breathing I often listen to in the night. I can rest for real while I'm here. I sleep harder and I wake easier in this air. 

I miss home. But I love home.

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We Had to Do ALL The Things

But FIRST we had to do the important things. Important being hugs with Grandma and Grandpa - or Papa as Julia has decided to call him. We'd never been to their new place and it was an adventure of things to do, as Grandma's houses always are.

Grandma had COLORING BOOKS! Who KNEW other people could have things like COLORING BOOKS?? And she had lots of them.
We had dinner at one of our favorite chains from back when we lived there, and I swear I don't recall the food at all. Was it because it was just average or I was just so excited to see my parents? I don't know. It was Max and Erma's and we got burgers but eh, it's just a burger.

The twins thought Grandpa was awesome. We had to wait a while, which went really well, oddly. the waitress brought us sidewalk chalk to entertain little people.

We aren't good with waits usually, as Miles and Charlie won't tolerate them well but this time it all went well.
Of course the best part of any trip to Max and Erma's is the Sundae Bar. Right?

I wish my kids could've seen the OLD SUNDAE BAR because it was AWESOME. Max and Erma's has cheaped up the Sundae bar for sure, but hey, the kids didn't know the difference. It was still fun.

Julia thought it was awesome, obviously.

We decided that it wouldn't be right to come to Indy without heading for the Children's Museum, so we made that our plan for the next day.

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We Had to Do ALL The Things

But FIRST we had to do the important things. Important being hugs with Grandma and Grandpa - or Papa as Julia has decided to call him. We'd never been to their new place and it was an adventure of things to do, as Grandma's houses always are.

Grandma had COLORING BOOKS! Who KNEW other people could have things like COLORING BOOKS?? And she had lots of them.
We had dinner at one of our favorite chains from back when we lived there, and I swear I don't recall the food at all. Was it because it was just average or I was just so excited to see my parents? I don't know. It was Max and Erma's and we got burgers but eh, it's just a burger.

The twins thought Grandpa was awesome. We had to wait a while, which went really well, oddly. the waitress brought us sidewalk chalk to entertain little people.

We aren't good with waits usually, as Miles and Charlie won't tolerate them well but this time it all went well.
Of course the best part of any trip to Max and Erma's is the Sundae Bar. Right?

I wish my kids could've seen the OLD SUNDAE BAR because it was AWESOME. Max and Erma's has cheaped up the Sundae bar for sure, but hey, the kids didn't know the difference. It was still fun.

Julia thought it was awesome, obviously.

We decided that it wouldn't be right to come to Indy without heading for the Children's Museum, so we made that our plan for the next day.

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You Can Go Home

We decided that we needed to go home. We haven't been in years, and no one's parents are getting any younger. My mom isn't all that well, and Julia's NEVER been there to see them. So we loaded up and took our Labor Day weekend to head home.

Travelling is never without it's peril, to be certain. The girl HAD to go, and so we stopped and this was our option.

I chose NOT to flush. Sorry Shell Station. Fix your toilet.

The trip between Georgia and Indiana varies between boring as hell and beautiful.

It starts out beautiful, for sure, with the rolling hills of Tennessee and so much to see. Especially FIREWORKS!

When I was a kid, these were the places you HAD to stop. They had the "illegal" fireworks. Well, they aren't illegal in Tennessee. But the bottle rockets and big boomers you can't get anywhere else, you could get them at these places. We always had such big Fourth of July celebrations, these places were a MUST DO when I was little. However, it was late and we weren't even in Kentucky yet, so onward we zoomed.

I would testify in court that Cracker Barrel is the friend of travelers everywhere. You get hot food that isn't fries and a burger and you don't feel like you're dying of grease after you eat. Their bathrooms are big and roomy and perfect for a mom with two ten year olds in pull ups (Thank you Cracker Barrel). Although I do miss them having their soaps and stuff out. They used to ALWAYS have out lavender soaps and lotions in the bathrooms, nice ones.
It was a such a nice touch, though. You're all gross from hundreds of miles of travel, you have a nice meal and then this luxurious treat in the bathroom - wonderful calming lavender.

For me, after changing SO many diapers for SO many years, it was something I always looked forward to.
I still love you Cracker Barrel but I wish you weren't so cheap you didn't put out hand lotion these days.  I still love your crackling fire in the winter. So I guess we're square.

The girl picked out a new friend in the country store, and we found an ADORABLE Halloween Costume for her. (NOT SHOWING YOU YET)

We didn't arrive at our destination until 3am or so, and then we discovered, I'd over estimated our ability to cram us all into two queens. Lesson learned, this won't work in the future.

And with that we were home. 

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You Can Go Home

We decided that we needed to go home. We haven't been in years, and no one's parents are getting any younger. My mom isn't all that well, and Julia's NEVER been there to see them. So we loaded up and took our Labor Day weekend to head home.

Travelling is never without it's peril, to be certain. The girl HAD to go, and so we stopped and this was our option.

I chose NOT to flush. Sorry Shell Station. Fix your toilet.

The trip between Georgia and Indiana varies between boring as hell and beautiful.

It starts out beautiful, for sure, with the rolling hills of Tennessee and so much to see. Especially FIREWORKS!

When I was a kid, these were the places you HAD to stop. They had the "illegal" fireworks. Well, they aren't illegal in Tennessee. But the bottle rockets and big boomers you can't get anywhere else, you could get them at these places. We always had such big Fourth of July celebrations, these places were a MUST DO when I was little. However, it was late and we weren't even in Kentucky yet, so onward we zoomed.

I would testify in court that Cracker Barrel is the friend of travelers everywhere. You get hot food that isn't fries and a burger and you don't feel like you're dying of grease after you eat. Their bathrooms are big and roomy and perfect for a mom with two ten year olds in pull ups (Thank you Cracker Barrel). Although I do miss them having their soaps and stuff out. They used to ALWAYS have out lavender soaps and lotions in the bathrooms, nice ones.
It was a such a nice touch, though. You're all gross from hundreds of miles of travel, you have a nice meal and then this luxurious treat in the bathroom - wonderful calming lavender.

For me, after changing SO many diapers for SO many years, it was something I always looked forward to.
I still love you Cracker Barrel but I wish you weren't so cheap you didn't put out hand lotion these days.  I still love your crackling fire in the winter. So I guess we're square.

The girl picked out a new friend in the country store, and we found an ADORABLE Halloween Costume for her. (NOT SHOWING YOU YET)

We didn't arrive at our destination until 3am or so, and then we discovered, I'd over estimated our ability to cram us all into two queens. Lesson learned, this won't work in the future.

And with that we were home. 

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To The Jerks Robbing Our Neighborhood

I have an important message to the robbers who are terrorized my neighborhood over the past 9 days by breaking in and ransacking houses.

You are going to get shot.

See, it's like this.

My cracker neighbors are ALL armed. The Marines at the end of the street can pretty much be counted on to have an ARSENAL and well, the men of my street are not amused by you.

You can count on this.

So between the Marines at the end of the street, the Navy guy next door and every other cracker IN the neighborhood having a weapon and now, you are their #1 Interest.

If it were me, I might go rob someone elses houses. You might get out alive. Or not.

It's Georgia after all.

To The Jerks Robbing Our Neighborhood

I have an important message to the robbers who are terrorized my neighborhood over the past 9 days by breaking in and ransacking houses.

You are going to get shot.

See, it's like this.

My cracker neighbors are ALL armed. The Marines at the end of the street can pretty much be counted on to have an ARSENAL and well, the men of my street are not amused by you.

You can count on this.

So between the Marines at the end of the street, the Navy guy next door and every other cracker IN the neighborhood having a weapon and now, you are their #1 Interest.

If it were me, I might go rob someone elses houses. You might get out alive. Or not.

It's Georgia after all.

It Has Been A Year

It has been one year, since despite having the soul kicked out of me at one employer......that I signed papers and made this our home. And the past year has been one of change and growth and so many positive things that I could never list them all here.


We had summer and then quickly fall then winter. Our first winter in our own house, watching the snow pile up out the windows. There were days that it was like magic.

And there have been holidays and birthdays and anniversaries........but you know what have been the best days? The days I stumble out of bed on the weekend to make coffee......quietly.


In our own house.

Or we've taken a couple of balls and gone into the backyard with nothing to do but run, and kick, and play.

I don't even know where to start, explaining the sigh of relief I feel some days, closing that front door - knowing that this is our kingdom......this is our refuge. This land belongs to my family. It's quite a bit of land considering the market these days.

It's a place where for the first time in a long time, I feel settled and grounded.

The nature of the world has become transient, like we're some giant Bedouin tribe without direction. The difference is that the Bedouins have each other. They know where they are going and where they came from. It had begun to seem for a while that we were just moving moving moving.......always moving.

No more.

I'm not saying we're here forever.......but I am saying that I am home. I sleep like the dead, safe in the country air and forest standing guard.

And if it is my fate, to drink cheap wine out of snowman goblets on my deck.........then I say......
Bring it.