georgia confidential

mapgirl dark secret #7

I hate basketball. And I reserve a special disdain for college basketball.

Oh yes, you read that right. I seriously, deeply, thoroughly despise it. "Wake me when it's over," is one of my familiar quotes this time of year. "Hoops are for poops" is a mantra that I have taken up over years of NCAA worship in my childhood home.

So this weekend, the person I probably enjoy most in the world, my dad, is coming to visit. My brother just sent me a warning e-mail. 

Subject line: Hoops are for Poops

E-mail:  Pa is headed your way and he is addicted to college basketball.

I can see that whole commandment about honoring mothers and fathers will be sorely tested this weekend.

trifecta

Three of my favorite people were born today.  I wonder what special stars were in the sky to bring these folks into the world:

VGM. The most recent friend, a rare gift in adulthood. Super sharp and focused, epitome of discipline. Also very fun, literate and grounded. Warning: do not use phrase "red headed stepchild" around her. One of the best things about Nashville.

EAN. Artistic and gentle. Steadfast. The same today as she was 30 years ago when we were teenagers. Sickening, really.

My mom.  Other-oriented and full of love. Just back from a trip to Disney World and still talking about it.  Beautiful inside and out. Better today than at any time in the past. Words are not enough. Best. mom. ever.

Happy birthday to all!

now i know how people feel when the super bowl stinks

I look forward to Oscar Night. Save your snarky judgment, I don't make you watch it.

So it's with great sadness that I say, this is so boring that even I have lost interest. I saw and liked most of the nominated films. But it's just excruciating to watch this. You know it's boring when the best idea is to show how good the hosts were 40 years ago.

And so I'm off to bed. Thank goodness for the digital video recorder. Oh yeah, I'll watch the rest tomorrow (and double thank goodness for fast-forward).

30 days already

I can't believe it's been a month since our wonderful Burns Night adventure. I kind of sneaked this post in -- don't miss it. A main goal for 2011 accomplished!

saucy manx

BELFAST -- One of the things I like most about Bittles is that I always meet someone interesting when I go there. The streak continued Saturday as KER and I lent a chair at our table to a man who resembled actor Jamie Cromwell (the farmer in "Babe").

We began to chat, as you do, and it turned out he was visiting from the Isle of Man. He enjoys Northern Ireland for long walks so he and KER (a history of half-marathons, at least one full marathon and counting) really hit it off. They especially chatted about the Isle of Man Parish Walk, a seemingly grueling 85 miles in less than 24 hours. I think this is KER's new life goal.

We didn't spend a lot of time with this Manx gentleman but we learned a lot about the Manx culture. The Manx have a very cool three-legged symbol (armored! with spurs! the Scots are envious) and motto roughly translated: "No matter where you throw me, I shall stand." This appears on the Isle of Man's pounds and the island has its own Royal Mail, which is where our new acquaintance works. He participated in their 2011 charity calendar -- think "Calendar Girls" but with postal accessories. He told us he posed au natural on the calendar cover with other employees, concealed by strategically placed mailbags. I thought this was hilarious and was spinning dozens of off-color postal jokes in my head but he beat me to the punchline:

"Yes, some people teased that a postage stamp should have been sufficient."

just one more

BELFAST -- The three most dangerous words in Northern Ireland are not "What's your religion?" but "Just one more." That's the encouragement to stay later and to keep ordering pints.

I was no stranger to pubs during my time in NI, but it was not the center of my social universe. I did have a couple favorites, so I enjoyed visiting my top three for an outing with colleagues on Saturday. The John Hewitt was our first stop -- it's named after a poet, how couldn't you love it? We had a lovely lunch and a long chat before KER and I continued on to White's Tavern, which claims to be Belfast's oldest pub. It's really the coziest, I think. Oh, these are definitely "old man's pubs," not trendy clubs. This induces a desire to stay. Time stops. We sat by the fire and watched life go by.

The we "just one more"d ourselves over to Bittles.

'epicentre of burns'

ALLOWAY – For more than three years I’ve had a notion to attend a Burns Supper. That’s underselling it a bit: a campaign to attend a Burns Supper is a more accurate description of my desire to go to this Ploughman Poet celebration.  

My friend CRJ is a Scotsman’s Scotman, and when I told him that 2011 was The Year of the Burns Supper for me, he was on the case. CRJ delivered the gold standard of Burns Suppers, an absolutely perfect night.

We attended a black-tie (Scottish = formal kilts) event in the nexus of Burns Country. One speaker referred to our exact location at the Brig O’ Doon House Hotel as “the epicenter of Burns”:  The banquet room faced the banks of the River Doon and a bridge where Tam O’Shanter just may have made his escape; the hotel stood across the road from the Alloway Auld Kirk where Burns’ father rests in peace (and where the witches danced); the Burns Monument was a stone’s throw away, beyond that, the new Robert Burns Birthplace Museum and just further afield, the cottage with the small corner where Rabbie came into the world.

I ask you, how much more Burns could it get?

what I think the application for security guide at scottish national galleries must read like

 Q1: Are you a wee man between the age of 55 and 65?

 Q2: Can you rock a pair of plaid pants?

 Q3: Are you adorable enough to make middle-aged American visitors want to come give you a hug cuddle?

plan b day

My one full day in Edinburgh didn’t quite work out exactly as I’d planned. Fortunately there is so much to see, it was easy to move on to the next thing. And, in the end, even if you’re just walking around, that’s a pretty fantastic way to while away the time too.

New Town was the order of the day, and first and foremost on the list was the National Portrait Gallery. However, and this was a freakish happening, I thumbed through a pamphlet at the hotel during breakfast and in the NPG listing it mentioned something about it “reopening in November 2011.” That didn’t sound good.

hotel sweet hotel

I don’t usually write about my accommodation but in this case, I cannot resist. The short version is, I have always dreamt of staying on the High Street (Royal Mile) in the Old Town. If you are not sure why, please re-read this entry.

 After much searching and weighing of various options, I secured a hotel that got good reviews and seemed reasonable for a place right on the Royal Mile.

I arrived to have the room blow my mind – simply put, it was a stone’s throw from St. Giles Cathedral and I loved it. One slight shortcoming was that my room, although spacious and modern, did not have a city view. I inquired and the staff said after the weekend rush checked out, they’d see what they could do.

What they did the next day was move me to a 2-room corner apartment win the incredible views of the New Town. St. Andrew can see me out the corner of his eye and Sir Walter Scott has turned his back to me altogether. Waverly Station is in full view, and from the bathroom window, off in the distance one can see the castle.

The room itself is comfortable, modern and amazing. Simply put, I plan to write my 7-part blockbuster children’s series here. And I’m not leaving until then.