Bambi?

Driving home tonight, I decided to give my car's engine a quick trip past 40 mph and opted for the 280-to-459 route home. Slightly longer, perhaps, but it more than made up for any extra mileage with a lack of traffic lights.

Just as I was approaching the Acton Road exit, I happened to notice something, and glanced at the side of the road. There, caught like the proverbial deer, was...well, a deer, either a doe or a young buck. This is the first live one I've seen along 459, though I've seen the, erm, aftermath up at the Summit exit.

I'm still trying to figure out where they hide all day.

Apartment

After 24 years and 23 days, I have finally moved out of my parents' house.

Well, almost. I've left my baseball card collection in my closet, and a globe with "USSR" splayed across one hemisphere, and a rabbit tam, and a couple of other odds and ends, but 99% of my belongings, plus a few items I've, ahem, borrowed for the next few days are now in an apartment two miles down the road.

I've got to say, it's damned strange to be here. I'm in a two bed/one bath unit, so I have a bedroom, plus a "study", which is mostly holding Tupperware boxes filled with my accumulated library at the moment. That, and my desk, and a clothes hamper. I've yet to hang my diplomas, and I forgot to bring a lightbulb for the one lamp I have for the study, but my tackboard is up and better organized than it's been in ages, and the cable includes BBC America, so all is well for the time being.

I'm sore in places I'd truly forgotten about, like the little muscles in the forearms and lower legs. I've acquired an interesting set of bruises that coordinates well with the fading welts from my allergy test last Wednesday. (As it turns out, I'm allergic to all tree and grass pollen, all molds, almonds, cats, and - big surprise - dogs. The border collie still jumps on my bed, since I've somewhat acclimated to having her around. While I'm glad to have had the test, since the doctor can now begin the allergy shots, I'm a tad annoyed at how long it's taken the welts to go away. Being pasty doesn't help matters, I suppose.)

This weekend has been anything but restful. Since I built up a few hours at work earlier in the week, I was able to take Friday afternoon off to sign the papers and begin moving my stuff. My mother being in Virginia with my sister, I was able to borrow the Mercedes to ferry boxes, since my Cooper holds exactly two full-sized people and Brandon. (Sorry for sticking you in the back seat, Brandon.) The car's cute, but instead of a trunk, it offers a subtle nod to the idea that trunks usually come standard on vehicles, much like its subtle nod to the idea of back seats. Anyway, I made four trips over to my new place, during which time I grew to loathe the idea of being on the third floor.

There are 33 stairs between the sidewalk and my floor. I have no idea how many times I've walked them this weekend. I do know, however, that I have way too much crap for one person, and that 63 pairs of shoes may be slightly excessive. (I can't help it that my foot stopped growing early, can I?)

Once the initial schlepping was past, I hurried over early Saturday morning - 6:30, to be exact - so the Rooms to Go crew could move in my living room and bedroom. I still have no idea how those poor guys managed to get everything up here, but they deserve more than whatever they're making for being put through my move-in. That finished, I returned home, and my dad and I met a friend with a truck, who had graciously offered to come by and help me lug my furniture. As it turned out, "my furniture" included the aforementioned desk and its bookshelf, a tall chest, a hope chest, a wicker chest, and God knows how many boxes of books (I'd count them, but as I said, I don't have a lightbulb in here at the moment.) He and my dad did most of the heavy lifting - I make Dad nervous - and then I was left alone to begin the unpacking and the assembling of end tables.

Sunday, I slept in until 8, then began ferrying my clothes over. This took two trips in the Mercedes. The shoes took a separate trip, and they more than filled the trunk. So I like boots. Sue me.

By today, I'd completed most of the heavy moving (with the exception of the last remaining box of books), and so Mom took me to Target to complete my list - "little things" like pillows, cleaners, and groceries. We went to Pier 1 to find a couple of lamps for my living room, then wandered next door to Kirkland's and found a boxed set for my dresser for under $30. Once I dropped Mom off, I braved Wal-Mart in search of a co-ax cable and candles, and managed to get several of my Scotland pictures blown up and framed. I did receive bad news, however - two pictures I bought in Scotland, matted but unframed, are 9x9 and 10x12. Anyone know where to buy oddly-shaped frames?

I have yet to complete the unpacking, or to hang my tapestry and sword, but the air conditioning is functional and the dining room is scheduled to arrive next Saturday. In the meantime, I'm thinking it'll be nice to give my new bed a try. God knows I could use the rest before work tomorrow.

Columbia, etc.

It's been a weird few days over here in Columbia.

I had to drive through construction zones on two state borders to get here. Then I drove into North Carolina on back roads yesterday, killing time by hunting for antiques shops.

I've spoken with artists and experienced the drama of Baxter Village's resident street smoker first-hand. I have found a store that sells Doggles, and bought a sterling silver and lapis necklace for $20 at a musty shop in Fort Mill.

I have eaten meals at all three restaurants around my hotel - Cracker Barrel, Fuddrucker's, and the local Tex-Mex joint - and discovered I wasn't crazy about any of them. The waitress at Cracker Barrel shared my affinity for Sudoku, and the one at the Tex-Mex place kept calling me "sweetheart". Once, she touched my shoulder, and I was only slightly creeped out.

I have discovered that a little book of Sudoku is the greatest cure for boredom when dining alone. It works equally well as a soporific at night.

I have learned that a king-sized bed is sinfully large when you're in it alone, and that I never manage to cover more than two-thirds of it at one time.

I've been slightly grossed out by the Best Western cleaning staff, which has managed to overlook the short and curly someone left on my shower wall for the last three days. There's no way in hell I'm picking it off. I'll remove my hair from a tub, but not someone else's.

I ate a chocolate truffle with Balsamic vinegar, and liked it. I saw bottled Tennent's for the first time since leaving Scotland. I also saw an old red phone box strategically placed outside a pub that was flying all the flags of the British Isles, plus, for some odd reason, Australia's.

I have been beaten by a cheeseburger. The sandwich in question was a Main Street Jr. at Ida Roselle's Restaurant in Fort Mill. It was juicy and delicious, but enormous. "This is huge," I told the waitress. "How big is the Main Street burger?" "About a pound," she told me, taking the unfinished half of my lunch away.

I have discovered that three days is about all I can take of road food before I begin to feel gross. The best meal of the trip came today at lunch, at Enzo's in Winnsboro. If you're ever in the neighborhood and want some good Italian or barbeque, stop by. Try the fried mozzarella with pesto and the chocolate chip cannoli.

I have learned how wonderful Hertz Neverlost can be, but that it's not infallible. I've learned shortcuts the system hasn't quite figured out yet, and driven past my destination just to see where the road went. I ended up with a bottle of cold peach cider because the strawberry signs I was following ended at a U-Pick place that only allows picking on the weekends.

I have nearly memorized the order of the songs on the mix CDs in my rental car. I can sing along - harmonies included - with a good portion of Avenue Q. This I do frequently, though I try to tone it down in heavy traffic and at stoplights.

I figure that God has a reason for making me drive home through spring monsoons. I just haven't guessed it yet.

I've discovered that a black Mazda 6 with New York plates is an empowering vehicle. People expect you to be an asshole and to drive like one, and so they let you into traffic without a fuss. Then again, maybe South Carolinians are just nice to outsiders like that.

Last, but not least: I now have two vacuum cleaners in the trunk of my rental car. As I was killing time before dinner tonight, I happened to pass by a Tuesday Morning, which just happened to have a Bissell vacuum at half price. I bought one, plus a French press, and called my mother to tell her about all the money I'd saved. She then had me go back and buy one for my sister, which meant another conversation with the scattered clerk whose ex-husband, the druggie, was only caught when he took money out of an out-of-the-way ATM five times, and whose Bissell works like a charm, and who took all day to put it together in the first place. She also sprays Lysol in her hair in lieu of hairspray.

I'm coming home tomorrow. Let the rain begin!

A most excellent birthday weekend

My travel plans worked out last week, allowing me to come home Friday night in time for my birthday. Not that I have anything against Frankfort or the Derby, but I didn't particularly want to spend the weekend alone in a hotel. That's just depressing.

For a couple of hours, however, I thought I might not make it. I knew we were due for some thunderstorms, but I had no idea how intense the band was, nor how quickly it would hit. I had left Danville by 10:30, cleared 127 and the Cumberland Parkway, and gassed up before turning back onto I-65 for the straight shot home, and then it began to rain. Less than an hour later, roughly 20 miles from the Tennessee line, I pulled off at a Wendy's for lunch and managed to get inside just before the deluge. Lightning struck near the building, making the restaurant's power blink and my cell phone go haywire. When the manager turned the TV back on (who knew Wendy's was investing in flat screens?), she turned it to the Weather Channel, and we began to hear reports of how bad this system had been: tornadoes in Oklahoma and Arkansas, wind damage, hail...the list went on of thing one would rather not drive through. As soon as the rain lightened past flood conditions, I sprinted back to my rental car and tried to make tracks south, hoping to outrun the weather heading east. Of course, I was stalled getting back to the Interstate because half the traffic lights were out and everyone had to play chicken at lunchtime, and once I did get back on, the rain returned with a vengeance. Two or three times before I reached Nashville, the rain was so bad that everyone around, including the semis, slowed to under 40 mph and drove with hazards on. Driving through 20 miles of roadwork did nothing to improve my nerves, but everything cleared north of Nashville, and the skies were beautifully blue in Birmingham. Go figure.

Of course, what was lovely about coming home sans wet rental car was finding my new MINI in the driveway. Since Jen's taking the Beetle to grad school, my folks found a great car for me. It's adorable, it sips gas, and it has all the bells and whistles - the auctioneer who bought it knew what he was doing! The only downside for the time being is that I'll have to take it to Atlanta to get it serviced properly, but that's not for another 10,000 miles or so.

The weekend only got better from there. I did have to get up for a 9 a.m. Requiem rehearsal - which meant driving through the mess I'd skirted the day before, plus fog - but my mother made breakfast (including mimosas, maybe not the best thing to drink before rehearsal!), I unwrapped a new necklace to wear, and Coke always helps when you don't really want to be conscious. It's been two years since I last sang the piece, and I was surprised how much I still have memorized, including those awkward tenor lines for which the altos were recruited in high school. Thanks, Dr. Thomas!

When I came home, Mom declared we were going to get a new GPS (since I could never make my TomTom work again), then go furniture shopping, even though I don't technically have an apartment yet. First, we drove down to Alabaster to check out this warehouse...

Note to self: never, ever go furniture shopping at a place that bills itself as "Between: Alabama Thrift Store and Save-O-Lot" [sic]. Not only was their location sketchy to the nth, they couldn't even spell their neighbor's name correctly. Their brochure was a study in how to butcher English. I swear, I see fewer mistakes in my ESL clients' papers, and they've got a legitimate excuse to make errors. Pathetic.

We quickly turned around and headed back to Rooms To Go, picked out my rooms, did some shopping for Jen's apartment, and headed home. (We bought yesterday...my mother doesn't mess around.) I vegged for the rest of the afternoon, including a most lovely nap, and then it was off to a very late dinner at Hot and Hot Fish Club. I hadn't yet been, but the chef worked with Frank Stitt, and it shows. Great restaurant, if way out of my usual price range. (Shrimp and grits...yum.)

Yesterday, we had orchestra practice at 3 p.m., then a concert at 7. I've never quite done the Requiem twice in one day, but whatever. It was a benefit concert.

Frankfort day

The longer I walked around Frankfort yesterday, the sadder I was to be missing the Derby celebrations on Saturday. This town goes nuts for it - from Derby hats to mint julep cups, the Governor's breakfast, and free 7 a.m. libations, Frankfort becomes one big party for "the most exciting two minutes in sports." I'm sure it's even nuttier elsewhere in Kentucky, but the fever doesn't quite reach Birmingham - which is probably good for me, as I don't look so great in hats.

Having only one full day in Frankfort, I resolved to cram as much into it as I possibly could. Beginning at 7 a.m., I did the following:

1) Breakfast at a downtown diner that reminded me the Yankee Doodle, minus the attitude.

2) Got the car and drove out to Switzer Covered Bridge, which would be lovely if not for the graffiti.

3) Drove back to town and finally found a parking place outside the New Capitol. Why was it so crowded on a Thursday morning, you ask? As it turns out, all the baby lawyers were being sworn in yesterday. "I just passed the bar!" the guy before me in the security line gleefully announced.

4) Headed up the road to Rebecca-Ruth Candy for a 9:30 a.m. tour and sample of the bourbon balls.

5) Drove north to Buffalo Trace for an 11 a.m. tour of the distillery. Now, I find the production end intriguing - I had the chance to see a couple of distilleries in Scotland last year - but I can't handle the finished product. Whiskey gives me a monstrous headache (and I'm not talking about a hangover - one taste of Johnny Red started the pounding). It's come to the point now where the smell can send up warning signals, so when we spent a good ten minutes inside one of the warehouses...yeah. At the end, the guide offered the three of us on the tour samples of Rain vodka and Buffalo Trace. The lady and I demurred from the bourbon initially, she because of some remnants of bourbon-inspired sickness in her misspent youth, me for the headache reason, but eventually we both tried it. I took a tiny sip, strongly recalled other whiskies of my past, and set it aside. "What happened?" my guide sadly asked. I had to explain that it was very nice, but that I simply couldn't handle it. Rain's not bad, though.

6) After the tour, I called a fellow I'd met at the wine bar the night before who works at the Salato Wildlife Education Center, and he arranged for his boss to show me around. Salato's neat - they have lots of hands-on exhibits, as the hordes of grade-school munchkins were demonstrating, and they keep animals out back. My favorites had to be the bears - sort of like big, deadly puppies, my guide and I concluded - and the wildcats. UK's mascot, Blue, lives there, as does a companion. They were curled up, dozing in the sun, when we walked by, looking for all the world like slightly overgrown housecats. Adorable.

7) By this time, it was past 1 p.m., so I headed back downtown for a quick lunch before touring the Old Capitol. Our guide was very nice, but the poor thing couldn't quite pronounce "yeoman" or "Marquis de Lafayette".

8) I thought I would check out a tea room before they closed, so I drove a few miles back out of town. They had, in fact, closed, but still got me a pot of tea. The place was cute, but had an overabundance of doilies.

9) Thirst quenched, I drove back to Frankfort and browsed the shops for a bit. By now, it was close to 4 p.m., my feet ached, and I was beat. I crashed in my room with one of A&E's crime shows in the background, then got up and did a bit of editing for a friend before heading out for dinner.

10) I had hit the best restaurant in town Wednesday night, so I was at a loss for dinner. I didn't want to eat in the hotel - it's sad to do that, and anyway, the prices were ridiculous - so I drove out to a seafood place on the river. At the wine bar, one of the restaurant's employees had warned me against it, but I was curious. Let's just say he was right. I don't want to sound snobby, but those were the most obviously pre-frozen shrimp I've ever eaten, including the ones I've defrosted myself.

11) Hunger satisfied but nose going nuts with its reintroduction to oak pollen, I took the long route home, then holed up with my computer and began making notes on Frankfort before finding my emergency pack of antihistamines and going to bed.

It's off for a brief stop in Danville this morning, then home, hopefully before the rental car place closes...