The Secret Side of Me

So . . . did any of y'all readers of the feminine persuasion grow up prim and prissy but, later in life, decided that being a tomboy is kinda fun? Me too! I love diggin' in the dirt, fishing (I'll even bait my own hook, thank you very much), would love to go huntin' (actually took the safety course, just got to buy the license now . . . and learn to actually use a firearm), and all that kinda crazy redneck stuff that I didn't have a clue about until I moved to Georgia.

I guess I'd to call my alter(ed) ego Bertha Mae because it sounds like such a good redneck name. She's the side of me that those who actually know me may be surprised to learn about. Let me show you why.

This is what I drive:

I love my vehicle! Except. I'm so short that the Chick Magnets tell me I look like a midget trying to get in and out of it! It's a pretty sweet ride, even if it is a hog when it comes to gas. But one thing I found out is that mini-vans are not for moms with five teenagers, especially when four of them measure 5'6" or taller. Good grief! They're all legs! I actually drove a mini-van for about 16 years . . . {shudder}. Now, here's the catch. Bertha Mae would like to drive something like this:

. . . so she can do tricks like this:

Or fly through the air like this . . .

Or almost tip over backwards like this:

Woooo-hoooo! Ain't that cool! When I . . . I mean Bertha . . . went to the Monster Truck Rally in January with Mister, she was happier than a tick on her redbone coon hound! What a thrill that was! And now she's threatening to trick out the Expedition to a Monster Truck when it's worn out so she can get out there with all those other trucks. She's just got to come up with a sweet scheme . . . you know, like Grave Digger has his whole theme going on. Any suggestions?

What's more, Bertha just seems to have this thing for trucks. Just guess where else she likes to go! That's right! Atlanta Motor Speedway to watch the NASCAR Truck Series! She just thinks she's so very lucky to live only 45 minutes from Hampton, Georgia! I mean, how fortunate can a girl get! Watching the cars race around the track is alright, but those trucks are something else! Especially when there's a big crash . . . but only if nobody gets hurt. But, she's not been there in a while.

Now, for those of you who know me, you might realize that I'm more of the big-night-in-downtown-Atlanta sort of girl. For instance, just a few months ago I won tickets on the radio to my choice of several restaurants in Atlanta. Earlier in March, Mister and I chose to eat at:

All I can say is 'whoa'.

We had passed by here many times, and I was curious what kind of place it would be. Well, let me just tell you. First of all, when you arrive there is someone to park your car for you. Someone with an accent. I think that must be a requirement if you work in downtown Atlanta. Anyway, once you arrive and get a table (after you give them your name, serial number and rank), they place your napkin in your lap for you. I noticed that while the waiter was helping me get settled in, Mister quickly seated himself and placed his own napkin on his lap. You know, he's the manly-man. He didn't need any help.

Now, there is something that you must beware of if you ever dine here: if you have one of those 1/2 pint bladders like the people at church and have to go to the bathroom during your time there, they fold up your napkin again for you and lay it beside your plate. Okay. Well.

Now, when you first sit down, there are no utensils. This little guy comes around setting up your table for you. Utensils, a plate of vinegar and oil, a basket of bread, and whatever else needs to be there. Very interesting. And he comes back later. It seems that his sole purpose is to equip you with whatever you need for the evening. I wonder . . . was he supposed to be tipped too? Oops.

This place is an upscale Italian restaurant. Johnny Carino's it ain't. Olive Garden it ain't. And, unless you speak fluent Italian, even the waiters struggle to tell you the names of the dishes. I just used the pointer-finger method of telling him what I wanted to eat. But that's okay . . . the food was absolutely delicious . . . and not terribly overpriced. Except.

We decided to share a dessert. Oh my! For $6.50 I was expecting a HUGE chocolate lava cake with vanilla bean ice cream. Yummy! Right. It was the size of . . . . of . . . . of . . . . one Little Debbie snack cake (Berhta would've been happy). And we had to share. Good thing I was pretty full from dinner and didn't mind sharing the scrumptous little thing. I guess most of their guests are snooty rich women who are watching their figures.

After our filling dinner at Vini, Vidi, Vici, we used the tickets I had won on the radio to go here:

Have you ever seen this play? I am speechless! It was so hiliarious! If you haven't, then high-tail it, sister, to the ticket booth! Grab some girlfriends along the way. Just beware if you decide to take your MISTER! OR if Mister decides of his own free will that he wants to go. I was going to be nice and not subject him to the tragedies of what happens to women when they hit menopause, but he decided that it would be funny and wanted to go! Poor man. He's got a wife, three daughters, a mother, a M-I-L, two sisters, two sisters-in-law, five nieces, and an abundance of female co-workers! And we're all NUTS! And you'd think he'd want to stay far, far away from such entertainment. Well, all I can say is that it came back to bite him in the rear! During one of the songs, the woman who acts the part of the movie star in the play came off of the stage and proceeds to run her fingers through his hair! She then tops it off with a big, red kiss on his forehead! Here's the evidence:

The play on words in every song is just hilarious. But . . . just a word: in case you do decide to go see Menopause: The Musical, there are a few parts thats some might find offensive or objectionable, and there are a few curse words as well. I was rather surprised about this, but it really wasn't any worse than anything on the television. Please use your own judgement.

Now, even though I had a great time that night dressing up and eating at a fancy restaurant in downtown Atlanta, I don't think that this was Bertha Mae's kind of night. She's more into:

. . . and eating glorified burgers, naked dogs walkin', onion rings, and french fries. Oh, and a frosted orange drink. You know, one of those places where you can actually pronounce everything on the menu. Of course, her last visit there was after going here . . .

Yes! A really good friend gave her and Mister tickets to go see Tennessee duke it out with LSU in December at the SEC game at the Georgia Dome. She'd never been to a college football game, and you could have probably guessed it, too, had you been there to witness her behavior. I'm tellin' you . . . you just can't take that girl anywhere! She's loud, rowdy, and really gets into things. GO BIG ORANGE!

Lest you think that either Bertha Mae or I are loaded with ca-ching, let me assure you that, for the most part, all of the events that we . . . I . . . she . . . whatever . . . have attended over the last several months have not costed anything.

As I've been thinking over the last year or so since my dad died and my daughter graduated, I have been given many opportunities to do things I've never done before. For example, last summer I was able to attend a conference with my husband at the Evergreen Conference Center and Resort at Stone Mountain. Our accomodations for that night were paid for. In October, we attended a concert featuring Loreena McKennitt at the Fox Theater. I've lived here since I was twelve and had never been there. It is a beautiful place! Even though I did have to pay for my ticket to that concert, it was still a new experience for me. And then you've just read of the opportunities I've had since this past December . . . an SEC game, the Monster Truck Rally, seeing that musical, and eating at a fancy restaurant.

I'm just amazed at what doors are opened to us sometimes when we need them most, and I am so thankful for that. It's funny now that I think of it . . . both sides of 'me' were given many new memories to help me through some trying times.

While it may seem strange to some to thank God for allowing me to watch football and monster trucks, well, it goes much deeper than that Him allowing me to do something I think is great fun. The truth of the matter is that I am thankful . . . for a little distraction from a hectic life, spending time with Mister, and seeing more of the great city down the road from my little world.

I hope that you enjoyed a little peek into a little piece of my life and the 'other' me. I hope that you'll leave a comment to let me know about the 'other' you!

Talk soon!

J.L. and Bertha Mae

P.S. I don't use Bertha Mae's initials because, well, just look at them and you'll see why. She's very sensitive about that. Please be understanding and don't ever call her by her initials. I can't be held accountable for her actions.