it's that time of the year again...

It's Masters time. All of you Augusta kids will know what I'm talking about when I say that it's always a relief for the masters to be over because that means all of the questions stop. I know that tonight I will be asked about 20 times if: a. I'm going home for the masters b. I have tickets to the tournament c. I can get them tickets.
Yes, I am going home for the masters, I'm from the AUG, this is what we do.
No, I dont have tickets. My family learned long ago that I'm a waste of a pass. I get tired of walking around, golf is slightly boring to me, and I sweat more than I like to.
No, I can't get you tickets. I dont know where people came up with this idea that if you're from Augusta, you just have tournament passes lying around.

Those three sentences will probably account for 75% of my bar talk tonight. Oh well. I guess it's a small price to pay. I do love that I live in the city that is home of the masters. People dont realize that it's not just a week out of a year that Augusta revolves around golf. Because of the masters, the city is golf 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year. Here are some fun facts about how my growing up was different from yours b/c I live in Augusta:

I, along with about 90 percent of my friends from home, live on a golf course.

In middle school, the most popular kids in the neighborhood were not always the cutest, the coolest, the richest or the funniest. The most popular kids were the ones with the best golf carts. Emily's was red, monogrammed, and had headlights and a sound system. For real.

By the age of 5, my brother was so good at golf (or at least he was a pro on hole 10, the hole we lived on) that he could beat all of our family from out of town. By about 9, he could beat my dad and uncle. I can't remember what age it was that he got his first hole in one, but I know he wasn't much older than 10.

When I wanted to swim in my pool or lay out in the backyard, this meant that I had to be willing to accept the odds that I might get hit in the face with a golf ball.

My mom had a nervous breakdown a few times a year because of new discoveries, like the stucco was dented in a new place or a car was dented in a new place.

Spring Break was always the same week as the masters. It took some serious getting used to when I came to UGA and the break didn't revolve around a golf tournament.

All of us left town during master's week. We had to, as our houses were being rented out by complete strangers. (p.s. one week renting your house out for the masters can pay for about 4 house payments, my dad tells me)

Once a year, I had to make my bedroom look like a hotel room. This is hard when you're an adolescent girl.

Once we stayed at our lake house for spring break and we decided to drive through our neighborhood. No normal cars. Only lincolns and limos. It was weird.

If you didn't have some article of clothing that had the masters logo on it, then you were in the minority.

It's funny now that I am in school and our spring break is a few weeks earlier, b/c we all go home for masters weekend now. It's so much fun, way too crowded, but fun. I get to see all of my old friends. Granted, most of us dont have a place to stay, still, but we find a place. This year I'm probably bunking with Sam and her family. I dont know yet, but I do know that I am excited to pull into town and see all of those signs leading everyone in the direction of the national.

random thought #2

I guess it's more a question, than a thought really. But, do you tip when you go to pick up take-out? I used to tip. Like a dollar or something. I never really thought about it, i just did it... mainly because there is that awkwardness that exists when a waiter brings you your food and receipt and waits there while you sign it. But, this one time a friend and I were picking up some food from Utage. We waited in line behind a girl who was also picking up some sushi for her sister who had just had a baby. Both of us got our food and receipts at the same time, so we ended up walking out together. As we were leaving she turned around to ask us if we tipped. I wasn't the one who signed the receipt, but I assumed we did. Before I could tell her yes, my friend said, "uhhh, no. I dont tip on take-out" The girl was relieved, because she said she didn't either (and her bill was 95 dollars--seriously).

So, from that day on I stopped tipping take-out people. But, I'm starting to get these rude looks from my friends at On The Border and I think the girl at Utage is about to be over me. I always rationalize my lack of tipping by saying that they really didn't do anything, I mean they bagged up the food the chef made and ran my credit card. That doesn't exactly warrant a tip. But, then I think well what if this is what they do all day? Just give take-out orders. Noone leaves a tip, and I mean afterall, they bag your food up and run your credit card receipt. Maybe I should at least give them a dollar. Anyway, the point is that i'm torn and need feedback (I pick up food at least 3 times a week). To tip or not to tip, that's the question.

The constant hassling about my growing need to write a new blog has paid off...I guess. I mean, I'm going to write, but I dont have anything specific to entertain anyone with. I thought about writing about my spring break trip, but I found that I couldn't do the trip justice through my writing. Then, after I found out that a family friend, and my old babysitter, had been in a wreck and was paralyzed from the waist down, I started to write a blog about her. But, again, my writing didn't do her justice. But, I will ask for you to keep her and her family in your thoughts and prayers. She is an amazing person and I am lucky to know her. I even started to write another blog about losing touch with people. Why it is that you know how sad or regretful you would be if something were to happen to someone you care about, yet you go months, or years even, without even speaking a word. You're too busy, you'll "do it tomorrow," or maybe there are hard feelings involved. Either way, I want to know why you let people leave your life so easily, but if something happened to their life it would be so hard for you. Anyway, that blog went on and on and was a little more personal than I care to post. So, I'm left to write about how I have nothing to write about. So, here are some incoherent thoughts that crossed my mind this time:

I could write about my adventures at the daycare since I'm there 4 days a week. I could talk about how i heard a 3 year old tell another 3 year old, "you are a bad person." Even at the age of 3, that comment stings. The girl cried for an hour. I told her what I swore I would never tell a child (as it never makes them feel better), "well, why do you want to be friends with her if she's going to be ugly?" I knew the answer: because. I couldn't even believe I asked it, ugh. What's next? Am I going to tell my kids "because I'm the mom and I said so"?

In other daycare -related news, I have learned:
Curious George's "the man with the yellow hat" has a name, it's Ted, and there is no better way to piss off a 4 year old than to refer to him as "the man with the yellow hat" (even though that's the way the story reads). I wish they could appreciate how hard it is to train the eye to recognize any text reading "the man with the yellow hat" as "Ted." I'm getting better though.

Also, did you know that "Ted" stole George? I didn't know that. I just pretended that he found him wandering around one day and rescued him. No, it was on a trip and he found George in a jungle. He tricked him by putting a banana in a bag and then, as George was going to grab it, the man scooped him up. It even talks about how sad George was, and even though the story adds that "although George was sad to leave, he was a little curious," my idea of "Ted" is forever changed.

And, while I"m sure it wont be surprising to hear that 4 and 5 year olds love play dough, it is interesting to note that the daycare has to make it home made because about 50 % of the class likes to eat it. 4 and 5 year olds, not 1 or 2 or 3 even. Sick. F.Y.I. you will never outgrow loving play dough. Yesterday I made a snake, the "scream" face, a blueberry pie and a slice of pizza.

So, you've learned all about it in classes, but gender roles are totally established by the age of about 4. You will find the occasional 2 year old girl playing trucks or the 3 year old boy who carries around a doll, but for the most part the kids stick to their roles. On the playground I watch the boys play pirate ship. They climb the jungle gym to find gold, then come down carrying imaginary bags. Yesterday I told them I thought they left a bag up there and without hesitation Jack Sparrow rounded up the men and they headed back up to the top of the jungle gym to retrieve the lost bag. "We got it, Ms. Megan! Thanks for your help!" Angus told me. The girls play in the playhouse that's next to the jungle gym. The most assertive girl always gets to play the mom and the others are the kids. Yesterday I thought I heard someone crying and ran to the house only to find that the 4 year olds were actually babies crying for milk and the 3 year old mother was searching frantically for a bottle. Girls, I thought. Maybe I dont want 2 of them, I thought. My poor mother, I thought.

I could go on forever, that's why i didn't do an entire blog on it (only 3/4s). I was also going to write about the quirky side of me. Once Kate wrote down a lot of the unique things that make her who she is. I started and I thought that maybe some of you wont be friends with me after you read. But, I am going to do one like that soon. I also thought about sharing some of my favorite songs right now in the hopes that some of you will illegally downlaod them and love them. Here are my top 5 right now:
1. Postal Service-Be Still My Heart
2. Flipsyde-Someday
3. The Fray-All at Once
4. Matisyahu-King without a Crown
5. LL Cool J-Control Myself

Okay, so I finally wrote something,which was nothing, and I am sorry if it was disappointing, but se la vie.