That's the story of, that's the glory of love ...

If you grew up in my family and you read that title, one word would pop into your head.

Beaches.

I don't remember how we came upon loving that movie as much as we did. Was it the eternal friendship that the movie portrayed between the two female leads? Was it the reality of the Barbara Hershey character's tragic death in the eyes of our sheltered, preteen eyes? Was it Bette Midler's defiant attitude and showstopper style?

Or was it merely the cheesy, though somehow mesmerizing, music?

I may never know. The fact is, however, that we adored everything about that film. Beth, the oldest of the four of us, ended up buying it, I think, and it was perhaps one of the first movies that we owned growing up. We had the soundtrack, too. Oh yes. We'd all belt out "Wind Beneath My Wings" at the tops of our lungs while driving around the thriving metropolis of Thomasville.

I don't remember which came first, our love affair with Beaches, or our obsession with the talented Mrs. Midler. I'm sure that one led to the other. We rented all kinds of Bette Midler movies, including the most memorable (other than Beaches, of course), Big Business. This comedy was a story about two sets of twins, each swapped up at birth so that the new parents went home from the hospital with one child from each pair. Half of the twin-set was played by Lily Tomlin, the other half ... Bette Midler. We must've watched that movie 12 times.

Anyway, I bring all this stuff up because Bette was on Oprah the other day, promoting her big, new show in Vegas. Seems that she's taking Celine Dion's place as one of the semi-permanent attractions out there, and I couldn't be more excited.

Cal, on the other hand, is less than thrilled.

So any of you out there who'd like to take a trip to Vegas in the next year or so, please count me in. I'm sick of admiring Bette Midler ... from a distance. (HA!!)

Retaliation

This picture I am posting in response to Cal's latest entry on his site.

See what 31 years of chili dogs and flaky ice will do to you?

Weddings! and fabulous memories of my traveling friend.

Rebecca called me last night. You know Rebecca? The "becca" who is so faithful in checking this site, even if it's not been updated in over 3 months? The girl who is such a great friend that she comments on practically each and every blog, just so that I know she's still reading? That's the one.

Anyway, Rebecca called. Being the self-absorbed person that I am, I naturally assumed that she was curious about how the hair turned out. After our initial hellos, I launched into a 20-minute, detailed story about Tommy, his initial hesitations, his eventual agreement that the color thing was the right way to go, the outcome, etc. She didn't burst my bubble. She listened, laughed, agreed, and pretty much paid attention to me for the entire extent of the one-sided conversation.

When I finished, there was a brief silence. Then ...

"Well, the real reason I called was to tell you that I'm engaged!"

My hair, of course, was quickly forgotten.

Rebecca is the third of my three closest graduate school friends to announce in the last few months that they, too, are getting married. Meredith, who you all know about from previous posts, is one. She's getting married in February in Jackson, and I get to be an attendant. Totally excited about what is sure to be the party of the year. Bryan is another; he and I hit it off while attending the same small group Bible study in Athens for several years. The third is Rebecca. Good ol' Rebecca.

Rebecca and I first met at RUF in our senior year at UGA. Although I knew who she was then, we didn't really become close until, 2 years (and a whole lot of future-career-confusion on both sides) later, we started graduate school in the English department together. I knew no one else there, and we sort of clung to each other a bit until we got our bearings. She, Gina, and I quickly became study partners and moral supporters; I remember one day in particular that involved sitting at Jittery Joe's while we all three told each other over and over again how smart the other was. We were trying to get up the motivation to start our Master's theses. We all succeeded, and I'm convinced it's because of the confidence that we gave each other. Strength in numbers and all.

Rebecca understands my desire to be edgy and bohemian. She and I always complained that we would never get to that place where we were successful in our attempts to throw off mainstream; she, however, made it. How jealous I am!

My favorite memories of Rebecca, though, are from our trip to London back in March of 2003. I got an email from her one night saying that she and Gina had found really cheap flights for spring break, and didn't I want to go? I, of course, did, and a week later we were staying in a stinky, bright yellow room on the top floor of a rickety old hostel, living out of our backpacks and having a grand old time. Both of the others had lived in England for study abroad programs, and they showed me around like pros. It was fantastic.

Fantastic, that is, until that Wednesday, when America (with the UK as allies) started bombing Iraq. Suddenly our lighthearted, spring break trip to London turned into a made-for-tv drama. "How will three blond-headed American girls survive in war-torn Europe?" Tune in tomorrow afternoon, only on Lifetime: Television for Women.

We avoided subways for fear of terrorists releasing deadly chemicals. We took pictures of protests and riots in Westminster Square, Oxford, and Bath. We were handed fliers by members of London's Iraqi community. We fielded frantic questions from our parents during calls home. It was thrilling, really!

Then ... the climax. Rebecca's purse got stolen the day before we left. Stolen, and in it were our plane tickets, her driver's license, and her passport. The airport couldn't help: "We can't let anyone out of this country without a passport, ma'am. And our flights are booked through April."

It was the weekend (a Friday night), and the embassy wasn't open until Monday. We called and talked to the emergency contact there. We begged. We cried. Nothing. They weren't opening for three, silly little students.

In an act that might've traumatized Gina for all time, we sent her home on our original flight. The airlines told us that, with the flights booked as solidly they were, we'd have a much better chance of getting on a later flight (after a passport renewal) if there were only two passengers. Forever ingrained in my visual memory is Gina, sobbing and throwing her unused British money at us, then sadly riding the elevator up to the terminal with no luggage, just her book. She told us later that she got stopped at every security checkpoint because the guards were so suspicious of an international traveler with no bags.

In the two extra days that Rebecca and I had in London, we read Harry Potter and Bridget Jones in Hyde Park, ate free slices of cake from the Italian owners of a restaurant called Lo Spuntino (they felt sorry for us), and ogled a really cute British businessman at the American Embassy (sorry, Cal).

After I vouched for Rebecca's American citizenship and she got her passport, we headed to the airport for what we assumed would be a long wait for a spot on a flight back to America. Instead, we were allowed on the next flight out (a Muslim flight out, actually, but that's another story) to Toronto, where we spent the night in the food court and flew to Atlanta the next day. Gina was waiting there to drive us home to Athens. An all-American hamburger from The Grill never tasted so good ...

Nearly 5 years later, and I still count Rebecca as one of my closest friends. We live hours apart (she in Chapel Hill after a stint in Asheville, me here in Macon) and never see each other, but all it takes to reconnect is a one or two-word email and we're back to laughing at all of our old adventures. She is one of the select few who made my days as a singleton as wonderfully satisfying and fun-filled as they were.

And now we'll both be married. Me first, her following soon after. Congratulations, Rebecca ... and may our friendship be as exciting in this new phase of our lives as it was before!

Lowlights

Every so often, as you all know so well by now, I get an itching to do something a little bit crazy to my appearance. 4 years ago (4 years!), this irritation culminated in my getting my hair chopped off to the length of about 1 inch. No kidding. Those folks who knew me then can attest to the fact that it was WAY short. A pixie cut, I think they call it. Anyway, after I got over the initial scariness of it all, I loved it. I felt different, bold, individualized -- a far cry from the long-locked ladies of Bibb County.

Now, though, my hair is all grown out and back to what it was when I left Athens. I've enjoyed it for a while and still love the flexibility that comes with the length, but I'm left, again, feeling mainstream and boring and preppy and blah.

A few months back, I started thinking about doing something with the color of my hair and leaving the length alone. I've speculated on everything from going totally brunette to two-toned to doing nothing at all. I finally made an appointment with Tommy (my wonderful and undeniably gay hairdresser) and it's coming up on Thursday. Still no idea what I'll do, and I might stick with my usual.

But wouldn't a change be fun?

I realize it's cliche to post pictures of celebrities, but it's all I've got. Something like SJP's color below is what I'm currently thinking. Not too far from where I am now, but not so boringly blond, either. Suggestions?

Highlights

Yeah, so, it's been a month or so since I've written anything. Funny thing is that right after my last post, I sent my blog address to a number of friends and family who hadn't previously known about the site. Then ... the famine of posts. They probably think I was lying to them. Here I am, though, with --as usual-- no promises to pick things back up to writing on a regular basis. We all know that that would be one promise I could never keep!

Highlights of the Month:

-- Christmas holidays! Definitely the best part about teaching.

-- Being able to wipe out 75% of my Christmas shopping at one place: Gordy's Photography Studio ... wedding pictures for all!

-- Diamond earrings from Cal. You know what they say about diamonds!

-- Surviving the first knock-down, drag-out, screaming, yelling, slamming doors and driving off fight of our marriage. Phew. Glad that one's out of the way.

-- Finishing the grades (yesterday) on 91 midterms, promptly followed by 91 big essays. Tell me again why I'm teaching English?

-- One of those fancy, giant showerheads. Good thing the water bill is on my list of household financial responsibilities; otherwise, Cal might have decide to take that gift back by now.

-- Anna Claire, my niece. Certainly the cutest kid ever. Seriously. Turned two on Saturday.

-- Finally and most hilarious and creative, a fuzzy toilet seat. Cal got sick of hearing about how cold my porcelain toilet seat was, so he went and bought one of those lid covers and cut it to fit the seat. It's hideously tacky, but oh so effective. He did it all without my knowing. A pleasant surprise for my derriere, for sure! Pictures to come when I get home from work tonight!