We didn’t do anything constructive on Thursday after our wild plane ride with Uncle Mel the night before. Actually we had it pretty easy flying up there but we flew on the spur of the moment. That’s why we got there so late and the airport was locked down tight for the night.
We first decided we couldn’t fly because of the bad weather and then the weather cleared and we took off for the Dawson airport. We called Aunt Kay and said we would be there in one hour.
Aunt Kay and Paul and Uncle Ben had just sat down to eat in the Outback restaurant across Athens from the airport. They had to tell the waiter they couldn’t order because they had to leave and meet us at the airport.
After all that hustling around, we did not get to the Athens Airport and unload our baggage until 10:30 PM. It was too late to order from a restaurant so we grabbed a bag of Wendy’s burgers and took them back to the house.
We had no trouble getting back to the house. It was Uncle Mel, Momma and Cason who had all the problems because once they left the Athens Airport to fly back to Dawson the weather got worse. That’s why they had to spend the night in Dothan, Alabama and land in a cow pasture the next morning near Leesburg, Georgia because, once again, they were denied access to the Dawson airport.
It was such a severe strain on me and Uncle Ben for each of us to have to eat three hamburgers and three orders of fries so late at night that it took us all a long time to get to bed. The next morning Paul got up to go to work and Aunt Kay and Uncle Ben got up to drink coffee with him and see him off. I chose to sleep another seven hours because I was still tired and I didn’t want to spoil my first day in Athens. It would have been a disaster if I had exhausted myself two days in a row.
Aunt Kay finally woke me to see if I wanted to ride over to the campus area with Uncle Ben. Miss Anna had called and asked if Uncle Ben could meet a furniture delivery truck and sign for bedding being delivered to a student’s apartment for a friend.
Uncle Ben says it is much easier to find an address you are unfamiliar with if there is another person in the car helping you spot the address. He says you have to drive without running over brand-new UGA students who are all totally lost and, at the same time, you must avoid auto collisions with the rest of them who have been here a while. According to him, the ones who have been here a few months don’t know how to drive without tail-gating your car and having a cell phone permanently stuck in their stone-deaf ears.
He says I wasn’t much help because every time we passed a Volkswagen Beetle I would hit him in the arm and yell, “Punch Buggy!” It took us a while to find the place because he kept hitting me in the arm and yelling, “What’s the address on that house?” I kept punching him in the arm and yelling, “Punch Buggy.”
He said the last time he punched a girl in the nose he was five years old but I came as close to “Punch Nosy” as you can get on that trip.
Luckily I got back into his good graces by reminding him (about the time we got back to the house) that he was supposed to pick up Arnett’s meal and tomatoes and cucumbers for Aunt Kay. We had to turn around and go to a flea market for tomatoes and we could only find Arnett’s Meal at Piggly Wiggly.
The fancy, hoity-toity grocery stores do not carry Arnett’s meal because only old country people , the ones who really know how to fry fish, understand you have to have Arnett’s meal for frying fish. Anyhow that’s what Uncle Ben declares.
Uncle Ben told the ladies at the flea market that I loved tomatoes more than any youngster he had ever met and he wanted to know if they could bring in about two forty pound boxes of tomatoes the next day for me so we could be sure I didn’t feel deprived of one of my favorite foods during my Athens stay. He said their tomatoes came from Thomasville, Georgia and while they were really good tomatoes, the very best tomatoes came from Albany, Georgia. They frowned at him a little but they couldn’t say anything to such a good tomato customer.
Aunt Kay had made one of my favorite soups from Lima beans, sausage, corn and whatever else she puts in it. My Daddy loves it as much as I do. She also made, “to kill for,” lacy edged cornbread and we all ate enough soup and cornbread to kill half a dozen number one pigs. I don’t know what that means. Uncle Ben said that.
Unfortunately, my Daddy was not here to share in the soup and cornbread so, feeling sorry for him, I occasionally snapped a picture of the soup and the cornbread and e-mailed them to him.
After a while he sent me a message back that said, “That’s not funny. Cut it out!” I guess some people just don’t appreciate it when you you make a small thoughtful gesture of kindness to them.
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