My sweet William

I fell in love with William Kerns the first time I laid eyes on him, as he, only minutes old, was brought squalling into the nursery, so pink and so perfect. Maybe he sensed my enthrallment early on, because he has always taken as much delight in my company as I do in his.

Last week I went to Caroline's first birthday party. William and a little friend were seated at a small table eating ice cream and cake, while I sat close by, taking pictures of Caroline, and listening to the children's conversation.

The little girl pointed to a young man in the room, and informed William,"That's my Daddy over there."

William nodded, continuing to eat his ice cream, then said,"And that's MY Daddy right there!" pointing to Patrick. Then he gestured to me and said,"And that's my Ellen."

And as they say in the Mastercard commercials, PRICELESS.

South Georgia Golf Classic

Clay Moseley gave Jimmy tickets for box seats overlooking the 18th hole today at the South Georgia Golf Classic at Kinderlou. We went earlier in the day, before it got crowded. The weather was spectacular, not too warm yet, with a slight breeze freshening the air, and we enjoyed sitting in the shade of the tents, watching the golfers come up the fairways, sparkling green and lush from the recent rain.

The marshalls signal for quiet as the players begin putting.

Chilly's

Thursday was one of those slow, serene mornings that drifted unintentionally into afternoon: the kind of day when you say, "I guess we should eat some breakfast," before you realize it's already one o'clock, so you mosey on over to a lunch place. We decided on Chili's, because Jimmy likes the Quesadilla Explosion salad, and the Guiltless Black Bean Burger rings my chimes.

Except for Jimmy and me, Chili's was filled with scantily (but tastefully, for the most part) clad college kids with metabolisms in overdrive, and we didn't have the heart to ask them to crank the thermostat up to a warmer 65 degrees, so we shivered in silence.

There was a bench by the door as we went out, and enticed by the warmth of the sun heating our chilled bones, we plopped down on it like a couple of old moss backed turtles, sunning on a favorite log.

Our little Miss Caroline is one(derful)

Shades of Green (Acres)

Jimmy had not been out of the house for several days, but since he was feeling better, I talked him into riding in the car with me this afternoon while I ran errands. One of our stops was the farmers' market: the vegetables aren't as good as growing your own, but it beats the grocery store.

Several years ago, when we were spending a lot of time at the farm, Jimmy and I tried our hand at gardening, tilling up a small plot of land and planting some vegetables: tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, squash, peas, corn. We didn't produce much of anything but cucumbers (I should have pickled them but I was afraid they'd have a kerosene taste like Aunt Bee's on The Andy Griffith Show), and meager though our output was, we loved it.

During this same time, we had acquired some chickens. Converse Bright had given Jimmy a rooster named Jeff, who seemed lonely, so I drove to Dixie, Georgia, and bought Jeff six hens for companionship. Jeff and his harem of hens roamed freely, laying eggs in the Jeep, and pecking holes in the tomatoes as soon as they ripened.

One morning, as Jimmy left to get into his car to go to work, I heard an anguished, "AARRRGGGH!" Fearing that he had been bitten by a rattlesnake, or attacked by a rabid coyote, I ran outside to the spectacle of an enraged Jimmy chasing after the flapping, squawking chickens, a large stick in hand.

Seeing their reflections in the high gloss of Jimmy's beloved vintage Jaguar convertible, the chickens, in the throes of a fit of narcissism, had pecked off large patches of paint. Had he managed to catch one, we'd have had coq au vin that night, but as it was, Jimmy had to content himself with having a coop built, ASAP.

Cold

Jimmy's recent bout with pneumonia was a setback, so when he started coming down with another cold last Thursday, we were discouraged, afraid that it might go into pneumonia again. His weak immune system's really struggling to fend off infections.

Preventive antibiotics were prescribed, and after being babied all weekend, he seems better. He has an appointment this week at the cancer center to get an infusion of gamma globulin to boost his immunity, at least temporarily. I'm also giving him B12 shots and other supplements. We feel like, with the advent of warm weather and the decline of all these colds going around, if we can just get him built back up, he should have a good summer. This winter was no fun.

Workshop

If you scroll down to the April 11 post, you'll see the photo I'm working from today.

News from Emory

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ruidM0nfUdc

We got the results back from last week's tests at Emory, and Jimmy's still in complete remission!

Art week

When playing golf or a musical instrument or anything else, if you want to be good, you've got to work at it, and painting is no exception. In the last couple of years I haven't painted at all, and wasn't painting much for several years before that. I'm as rusty as a bag of nails left in a puddle.

This week Pam Scruggs and Annette Crosby and I are commuting to Moultrie for a watercolor workshop. We leave at 7:30 and get home late afternoon, and by then I'm so drained I feel like I've been digging ditches. Mentally wiped out. And this is the most time Jimmy and I have spent away from each other in eons, but he's doing great.

At the Mackeys' annual Easter egg hunt

Our grandchildren William, Jake, and Caroline Kerns (and their daddy, Patrick) had a fine time at Mac and Susan's Easter egg hunt this morning.

Reality check

We're in Atlanta, and Jimmy's finished the testing he has to have done every 60 days. As always, it takes a week or so to get the results, but we're confident that all is well.

Back in our hotel room now, I've been reflecting on how to describe what it's like to re-enter this microcosm that was our world for so long, but these pictures say much more than I can.

Happy Birthday, Mary,

...and thank you, Jackie, for bringing this ray of sunshine into our life.

Conchy Joe down in Abaco

My brother William is smarter than any of us: he left the soggy South for the sunny climes of the Bahamas last week.

( Photo by William Mackey)

Where's the Ark?

I was standing on the tee, looking down the fairway of #3 Bottom of Valdosta Country Club when I took this picture, and below are the woods to the left of the fairway.

The only recollection I have of flooding in Valdosta was in the mid-Sixties, but it was nowhere near this magnitude. I DO remember that the stables at the end of Lake Drive were under water, and that Anne Freeman and Cathy Tillman and I, in a fit of insane adolescent stupidity, rode horses in the water and went swimming in our little blue gym outfits. It was in February or March, and about 40 degrees outside, and the water was icy, and we all got sick. Ah, youth.

Faced

I'd heard of Facebook, but didn't know much about it, and assumed it was a sort of cyber-yearbook for school kids. Yesterday I got an email from Mike Strom, a VHS classmate, inviting me to be on his "friends" page, so out of curiosity I accepted.

Today I was telling my friend Ed about it, and asked him if he's on Facebook, which he is. "I just joined last night," I importantly told him, "and I've already gotten four friend requests from people we were in high school with!" "You JUST joined Facebook?" he snorted. "How passe. Facebook's been around for years. Twitter's the thing now."

Passe or not, it's new to me, and it's sort of fun, having names and faces from the past crop up. And maybe I'll think about this Twitter thing next year.

Rain...

The backyard's like a pond, and the rain, still falling, causes Andy

untold misery. He despises it, and must be dragged outside, trembling and cowering.

...and more rain