A recent memory:part two

After The Lost Sea, we headed back toward Chattanooga, but made a stop at the Mayfield Dairy plant in Athens, Tennessee. They offer free tours of the facility, and we were excited. After watching a short video about Mayfield (that really made me thirsty) we donned our hot red hairnets and started the tour. We were only able to see the milk production because of construction near the ice cream area, but it was so worth it, just to see the label machine. The tour guide went on and on about why Mayfield uses yellow jugs, but we saw the filling machines putting milk into clear jugs. Another person on the tour asked what that was all about, and the guide quickly responded that the dairy also fills milk for other "secret" companies. (This was something I knew, but it was neat to see proof.) She explained that the clear jugs let some vitamins escape, and the milk doesn't go through one of the extra processes to remove odors. Logan was observant and pointed out the label machine. We both saw the labels going on that "secret" company's milk...Great Value.......WalMart! That was hysterical to see how they wouldn't say the name! After the tour, we bought a generous serving of ice cream (Brownie Batter and Banana Pudding) and looked around the gift shop. We even got to meet Scottie Mayfield! A great day!

A recent memory:part one

In September, Logan and I packed up Vanny and headed to The Lost Sea! Nestled in the mountains of Sweetwater, Tennessee, there is a cave you hike thru to get to a deep underground lake. From there, you ride on a boat that moves around 5 mph or so, and it has a glass viewing window on the bottom. There are trout in the lake that were introduced originally to see if there was a way out of the cave, but the fish never left and the staff now restocks the lake with fish every few years for visitors to see. In order to get into and out of the cave, you must walk through a very creepy, very long, very yellow tunnel. It immediately made me think of something out of the LOST tv show. All in all, a great place to "sea"!

Watermelon Helmets

I can't remember when this tradition started, I like to think it was about 6 or 7 years ago or so, because I can't remember doing this any younger than high school age. My parents would buy a few watermelons, and we would cut them in half and scoop out all of the fruit with an ice cream scoop. Then, we would take turns wearing the rind on our heads, while others took pictures. I refused to wear it on my head every year, so pictures of me with a "watermelon helmet" are few and far between. It was so sticky and cold to wear! Here are some nice memorable shots from July 4, 2008 of our watermelon helmets - these are some of my favorite photos I have ever taken!

And here's one of me from this year!

In a pickle...

This story is short, but one of the funniest things that happened to someone at my middle school, so I thought I would share. When I was in the 6th grade, in 1996, there was a gym uniform we had to wear: a tshirt and shorts. Every day in gym we would change and line up to do role call and exercises. One day, we were waiting for everyone to come out of the locker rooms, and a girl in our class was walking up and down the bleachers. The bleachers were wooden and were operated by an electronic control. The janitors had a key that they had to use to open and close them. This particular day they had opened them to half - capacity, meaning you could sit on them, but the rows were closer together than usual. Back to the girl walking the bleachers. She was walking on the wooden part, and she was singing. Just as she sang "I believe I can fly", we realized she didn't truly believe that, because she fell. And, not only did she fall, but she got her rear end stuck between two wooden rows. She wasn't really hurt, but there was no budging her. She didn't get out until the key was located and the bleachers were opened completely. The class felt sorry for her, but we all were pretty amused as well. We were not picking on this girl and laughing at her.........rather, this was the girl who picked on everyone else, so to see her put in that situation was almost payback. This girl falling has become the image I see in my head EVERY time I hear the song "I believe I can fly"-and when it plays, "I believe I laugh"!

Those are so not leaves...RUN!

Sometimes you have to learn things the hard way. Case in point...wasps DO NOT like being smacked around with a broom. Oh you want details? Okay...
My family was living in Ruston, Louisiana, home of good ole Louisiana Tech, misquitoes, Cottonmouth snakes, and peaches. Our house was in the middle of the woods ( actually, I believe the name of the road we lived on was Woods Road ). Our nearest neighbor was about a mile away, and they were the Mitcham family, owners of the largest peach orchard in the county. I was good friends with their daughter Sarah, but on this day she wasn't around, so our friends, the Crowton's came over to visit. Their father was the football coach at Tech, and I sometimes babysat for their kids, who were not much younger than myself.
The home we lived in had dog kennels in the back from the previous owners dog-boarding business, and there was a great doghouse in the backyard he used for his own dog. It was hand built from wood and looked like a real house, with a working window inside and everything. However, because the backyard was woods, and the grass grew an inch a day ( I am not kidding ) my mom didn't want us to get bitten by cottonmouths or rattlesnakes, so she had the movers pull the old doghouse to the front yard so it could be used as a playhouse. When they moved it, they discovered recently hatched snake eggs, and that was the end of playing in the backyard.
This particular day, Janessa and Tara wanted to play in the playhouse, but we had not played in it for a while because of cool and wet weather. However, it was in the front yard, so mom said go ahead. We went in, and Janessa said there were lots of spiderwebs in there and she wouldn't go inside. She was 3 or 4 years younger than me, so I grabbed the broom and started knocking down spiderwebs. I saw what looked like leaves stuck to the side of the wall of the playhouse, so I hit them with the broom. Yeah, not leaves. It was a wasp nest, and although cold, they were pretty mad at me for destroying their happy home, and they came zipping out of there like lightning. Janessa was wearing a nylon nightgown ( her mom let her wear what she wanted, and when you are 5 you don't have any reservations ) and she got stung thru her gown. I ran so fast, screaming and hitting at the wasps, and when I went inside I let at least 3 or 4 in the house. The moms inside chatting went nuts, some trying to calm Janessa and the other stung children, some chasing after the wasps in the house, and some getting all the other kids inside. I was only stung a few times, on my arms, and nothing more than pain resulted. Janessa got stung the most, and they ended up going home and getting her calm. She was okay, just scared. A little meat tenderizer on the stings and a few hugs later I was okay. I will never forget the view of those wasps coming at me, though, and the hesitation I felt before I realized that they were not leaves falling to the ground after being hit with a broom, but they were pissed off insects ready to attack. I am just lucky I didn't get stung in the face...

Sometimes, being first alphabetically really sucks!

This is one of my most embarrassing moments,........... here goes............ It must've been the second or third grade, I don't remember if we were living in Louisiana or Texas (too much moving around), but I remember crying about it afterward. Okay, it was the end of the school year, and there were all sorts of presentations and events going on. This particular day, it was awards day, and the teachers were giving out certificates to students with top scores in every subject. Needless to say, it was a long presentation, longer than an 8 year old's bladder can take. I believe it was the spelling award that was up, and there were about 50 kids recieving that award, so they told us to get our certificate and make a line across the gym so that everyone could clap for all of us at the end, to save on time. My last name is Aldrich. That was the first one called out. I don't know if you know this, but it's a lot harder to keep from wetting your pants when you are standing up than when you are sitting down. By the time they got to letter "C" I was getting antsy. At "H" I was struggling. At "P" I almost was. I made it all the way to "S" and that was it. I ran top speed across the gym, in front of the whole line of kids just praying I could make it to the restroom and manage to get myself out of the cute one piece jumpsuit with leggings that I had chosen to wear that day. I made it, barely, but I was vaguely aware (as I sprinted by) that the audience was chuckling, and they knew my destination. I didn't go back in the gym, I was too embarrassed, and that day I wished that I had been the worst speller in the class!

Geen Gapes and Spite

When I was little my Grandpa was still around. Papaw, I called him. I was the only grandchild he ever met, and he spoiled me rotten. If I was ever sick, he would ask me what I wanted from the store and I would ask for "geen gapes (green grapes) and spite (Sprite)". There are only select memories I have of him, and they are all intensified by the few photos there are with papaw in them. I remember he and I used to play with a silver four-door matchbox car and a maroon matchbox model T. Those were the days when matchbox cars were made to last, not made out of cheap plastic like they are now. We also played with a small green plastic tree and my baby dolls. Odd little toys, but I was only 2 years old. The other things we played with were a set of metal jacks and a rubber ball that has lost its bounce over the last 24 years. Papaw kept his jacks in a small plastic tool box that looked like an army medical kit, I still have it to this day. I remember telling Papaw that smoking was bad for you, so he quit smoking for me. He didn't live much longer though, time and smoking had taken its toll on his body. He died a few months before my 3rd birthday, and I only wish that he had gotten to meet his other grandkids, (my seven younger brothers and sisters), but I know that he loves them just the same.
Maybe he's up in Heaven right now, looking down on us all, watching me play jacks, while he munches on "geen gapes and spite".