It was my first time... and it did hurt a little... ok a lot

It happened the beginning of June sometime, and it's July now, so I'm running behind but I want to share it with everyone.

No, it's not THAT kind of thing.

Derek was determined to take me floating down the river, it was something we never planned for, but since I don't' enjoy the water much, he decided through one of his "hair-brain ideas" as he so put, that he would give me a different kind of experience.

He claims the monotony of the pool may just be the culprit of my water-rut, not to mention my slight dislike for it. I'm not much of a swimmer, and the water has always scared me... I mean, remember Jaws ? Or how about that sci-fi classic The Blob, or Lady in the Water, or better yet the girl from the well in The Ring? I could go on and on...

But I digress.

He decided to buy us two cheap float rings from Walmart, and then off we went floating downstream, specifically down the river Oconee near my school. Which is a feat for me because for one, I don't like the river much. I like looking at it, or driving through it, but I don't like being in it. I'm not a swimmer. And secondly, this was an outdoorsy thing to do. I don't do the latter very well, if not at all. But Derek grew up around these type of activities so there was nothing to do but plunge.

I wish I could tell you that I relaxed some, but every time I finally would allow myself to something suspicious splashed in the river or my foot would graze something gross and slimy and a fish or some river creature would brush past me.

The worst part is sometimes it's hard to tell what things are because at any given moment I had mistaken twigs and tree trunks for alligator noses or river snakes (moccasins).

The river is shallow for the most part. There were times when I would be surprised and jump that something is under my butt only to realize a second later that my butt is scraping stones and sand from the shallowness.

The constant worry of being carried away by the current, a possible attack by alligators, and being bitten by poisonous snakes made me very anxious but I put my big-girl panties on and carried on.

After all, if Derek put forth enough thought to give me a new experience, surely it can't be THAT bad. And if not now, then when?

Carpe Diem, right? Seize the day.

We by-passed a few exit landings deciding to go farther since we had the time. That was until we realized we're not seeing anymore boat landings, there were less floaters and kayakers, no electric lines to speak-off, and we were pretty much alone in the company of a wilderness that was beginning to look more like the Amazon forest than Middle Georgia.

Holy Cow.

Along the way we saw several sand bars and stopped at one leading to a hill. Derek thought he might see something familiar on the other side, so on we went climbing this hill barefooted to the top only to find a huge field with weird looking larger bush among it and cow piles everywhere. We were barefooted and we were jumping and hopping to avoid cow piles.

But these cow piles had missing owners because we didn't see or hear any cows.

This field then reminded us of the fields from Jurassic Park. And it was creepy.

We didn't stay long there as we didn't find anyone. Though we did hear a radio somewhere but couldn't really locate it.

The only good thing that may have come out of this is that we were hungry (and didn't bring food) and Derek introduced me to my first wild blackberries, fresh from the bushes. He even gathered some for us to eat making us feel like regular scavengers trying to survive in the wild.

And I'm glad to report that they were not poisonous and had no diarrhea side-effects afterward. Seriously. For the longest time, I refused to eat wild berries because I had a notion that they would tear your stomach apart.

Sandbars. And mind games.

There were lots of sandbars that we opted to walk-on instead of float-by because by this time (which was late afternoon) we both decided that we've had enough floating and it was time to get off the river. Walking on the sandbars made it faster for us to travel and there were several along the way.

Derek delighted in pointing out animal tracks along the way showing me what deer tracks looked like, picking up baby turtles, teeny slimy frogs and especially pointed out tracks left by the alligators and their potential home a few feet away under huge tree stumps and sludgy looking lagoons.

And they were huge. The tracks, I mean.

But no problem, Derek said. Alligators only like to go hunting at night.

And with the sun going down faster than we can get out the river, it looked like the alligators may have company.

We met a few kayakers along the way giving us direction and telling us that (Hallelujah!) the next landing is not that far, only three more bends, a bit of a longer stretch, and that the landing is still in the same county!

What these boat people never told us was precisely how long these bends were, because as we rounded them, they definitely bended for what seemed like miles, and we were paddling for what seemed like hours.

But we got there.

And we had no plan. You see, this little unplanned adventure was never meant to go as long as we had anticipated and at most we thought we may have a couple mile walk ahead of us back to the car which was in the landing where we started the float.

Since, neither of us had a cellphone, or cash in hand, we went the biblical way and walked to our destination.

Except in the biblical times they probably had ample clothing.

We had our flip-flops, our bathing suits (swim trunks for him, and two piece bikini for me), and two large floaties.

We walked in the middle of the forest where this landing is located, through a stretch of tedious gravel road, up the hill to a quiet neighborhood, and on to a highway, walking briskly trying not to get angry that I am almost naked, carrying a dumb floaty, getting honked at and stared at from the road. And not to mention becoming dinner to several insects that gnawed my skin raw and that I rubbed furiously.

Not to mention, it was a race against daylight and neither of us had a clue of how far it was until the car.

Eventually, we recognized where we were walking to as I walked by two state prisons (and having jail birds hoot and holler at me in my bikini and our now deflated floaters that I had to makeshift into a drape), past Central state hospital, next to a Veteran's assisted home facility and through the ghetto, where we were the only two non-black kids walking through.

All I could think of was how someone was going to surely do something as this was the bad part of town and before long, the night owls and all the trouble they bring would come out.

Drug dealers, prostitutes, gangsters, and people that were up to no good would soon come out, and we would be there to greet them... or get in their way.

But we obviously made it, thanks to Derek's friendliness and making the black people laugh and we made it to the car. After hours of walking and hours floating and paddling down the river finally caught up with us and gave us both bodily pains like no one can imagine and head-splitting migraines.

Oddly enough, I had a pretty good time, in general. Even though I was a bit upset and scared, and achy, Derek and I managed to entertain ourselves teasing each other and laughing the whole way even if it was in the expense of how much I'd like to hurt him afterwards.

We laughed so hard and agreed that someday we'd tell this story to the next generation...

I guess we live to tell another story.

There are strange people in this world...

A few days ago my great friend Erin and I explored Madison, GA mostly because Erin was researching for an article about a certain Confederate Sgt. that was brutally assassinated. How do I know such things? Well, it's because on another excursion Erin took me to, she found a grave plot along US 441 stating along the lines of... "he was brutally assassinated in Morgan County".
Erin is bonkers for these type of stuff, so naturally she went on a research haywire conjuring up plans of tracking down descendants, finding treasure, scandals, mystery... that sort of thing.
I didn't mind tagging along because it reminded me of the days when I wanted to be Nancy Drew. Turns out, my inner Nancy Drew found a partner with Erin's icon, Harriet the spy.
So here we are ready to embark on finding something cool going around historic Madison stopping first by the archivist's office, only to find they didn't come to work that day, and finding the same for the town historian. They must have gone on a date.
Well, we weren't going to let a perfect day go to waste and we instead discovered many of Madison's charming little antebellum houses, quaint streets and an equally quaint shopping district downtown.
We went to a lot of stores until we discovered a new favorite, The Laughing Moon, owned by these two little (and cute) old ladies, and a store full of neat and fabulous and random things. We shopped and most proud of finding Erin two absolutely gorgeous and floral tops.
If you knew Erin, she almost never wears florals. And I'm now happy to announce that Erin is in fact a good looking girly-girl. Not to say she doesn't look great as a non-girly girl, but boys when you see my friend in all the florals and feminine silhouette... well, let's just say she's a knocj out.

But the main story today is not really about Erin's shopping finds (sorry.)

What does an Old creeper, a bum, Selena and Britney Spears have to do with each other?

We stopped by the Chophouse for a quick bite and ate on the patio to enjoy the sunshine. It was pretty quiet as we had lunch in the late afternoon.
A few tables behind us sat an older man wearing a loose cut-off t-shirt, a hat, and a pair of cut-off jean shirts and sunglasses. His beer belly was poking out a bit from under his shirt and he was sipping a beer.

We were just minding our business and chatting away when out of nowhere the man says:

"Hey ladies, I'm gonna have to not let you buy me a drink... haha."

Erin and I just looked at him, giggled politely.

"No really, you can't buy my beverage."

Like we were really thinking about it...

After telling him, no-no we won't buy a drink at all and just when we were to resume our own little conversation, he proceeds to take of his hat, revealing a balded head and smiles at us maniacally and says something like:

"I got a haircut and I told them to cut my hair like Jack Nicholson's... do I look like Jack Nicholson?"

(Our happy hour man look-alike)

Actually, he did look like Jack Nicholson... creepily so. And he creeped us out just like Jack Nicholson in "The Shining" would.
Erin concluded that it's probably how he picks women up, or at least flirt with them all the time.

Then a homeless black man was walking down the street and waved at me... I waved back.
Mostly because I wasn't really thinking about it. It was a reflex thing. My hand just went up.
He then walked towards our table and sat down. I guess he took it as an invitation instead of a friendly gesture. But I'm pretty sure my hand motion went in the way as "wax-on and wax-off" would and nothing like a come hither and dine with me type of motion.
And he wanted to bum a couple dollars off me.



And he thought Erin looked like Britney Spears. And I looked like the Mexican crooner, Selena. Yes, the one that Jennifer Lopez Played way back when she was still a starlet...
"Mike" who's last name will be withheld kept telling us interchangeably that we were gorgeous.

I couldn't really understand what he was saying... But here were some memorable ones that I understood and some that Erin translated for me:

(To me) Oooooh-weee, that mole. oooh wee. I straighten up for you...
(To Erin) You married? You date a black man before? Cause you gorgeous.

The restaurant crew was pretty worried about us and kept checking on us regularly asking if Mike was bothering us.

First the waitress came, and then suddenly, I turned around and there was a pretty mean looking man, apron and all, standing behind me and staring Mike down.

Then came the manager who asked (by sugar coating the word begging) if he was soliciting.

We both knew that the man was harmless. He even showed us his I.D. saying over and over again that it's hard because in his words he was a made the manager come out and ask him to leave. That it was hard for him to live a daily life because of his status.

I understand where his coming from. It would be hard to trust a homeless man with an opportunity to do something, much less a decent living. But I'm not quite that sympathetic to his plight when he approached us with bloodshot eyes and the smell of liquor on him.

He said he did some landscaping work sometimes. He was able-bodied enough to walk around, and he had all his limbs intact.

I do not mean to be crass, but I feel like he's putting himself in that position and color is not so much a deciding factor to his fate.

The n-word as my boyfriend puts it, is a derogatory word. It defines a low, good-for-nothing bum, who is not interesting in succeeding in life or making opportunities happen. The n-word applies to both black and white people and all other colors in between. A black person is someone just like the rest of us who is educated and dedicated. Someone who strives for a better life.

I'm sad to say that although I feel sad for his situation, I do not sympathize with him. Mainly because I feel like he has put himself in that situation. Food is priority. Never the thirst.

Erin made a deal with him that if she bought him a burger and a drink, that he would eat it elsewhere.

And then Erin, being Erin, decided to kid around one more time and tease the man about us bringing him out in town. He was ever excited and wanted to know how long we were in town because he has a couple of friends.

For safety purposes, Erin and I in fact told him a white lie. We were just passer-by's going through Madison, nowhere near town so he won't be tempted to find us.

So, on went Mike and his burger...

"We friends, aight?"

Yes Mike. We Friends.


A'floatin down the river

After a strange day of attempted discovery, exploration and strange people, Erin and I decided we would chillax by lazily floating down the Ocmulgee River. Which towards the end we decide we'd just actually anchor our butts, floaties and all, and enjoy my one beer (to Erin's several) and watch the sunset.

It was my second time floating the river... the first an experience courtesy of my beau. And I was not yet comfortable doing so. We didn't nearly go as far as I had reached my first go round but it was late. The water was inviting, the scenery serene... It was the perfect summer day.