Wilmington Weekend Update #28

When the blog threatens to bore there's only one thing to do: wake the kids up at 5:30 AM, load them in the car, and board a flight to Memphis. Ensue hilarity!

So it was Friday, July 31st, Abby, Sellers, and I found ourselves aboard a commuter jet bound for Atlanta. Margaret was too busy setting up her new office to come (more on that later), and two was the maximum number of kids a dad can successfully hustle through three airports without spending time on the white courtesy phone.

Since we'd left the house without breakfast, we used our layover at ATL to eat where else? Atlanta Bread Company! (We have one in Wilmington, but it I mean, come on!) When you think Atlanta, you think bread (don't you?), and the pastries did not disappoint. Coffee wasn't too bad, either. Next time I get a hankering for some yeasty goodness, I'm Georgia bound!

Stoked on croissants we made the Memphis leg without incident. There Momma picked us up and ran us straight home for ham sandwiches, gourmet pickles, and fresh fruit. Abby was finally reunited with her favorite dog, Binky.

After lunch we ran off to Target for children’s clothes and then to the caterer’s and cupcake boutique (Muddy’s, for those of you in Memphis) to prepare for our welcome-home party that evening. I was thrilled to see Mimi and Marius Carriere and their son Beau, who at age ten sat on our floor and played bongos prior to our wedding. I swore I would never say things like, “My, how you’ve grown!” but Beau is a strapping frat brother now, about twice the height I last saw him, and those words came tripping out of my mouth. Crazy kids and their rock and roll music! In my day we had respect for our elders! Did I just say that?

Sellers is simply amazed at the eggs laid by Momma's zebra finches.

Saturday was our one full day in Memphis. We started with an early wake-up. Granne took Abby off on dog rescue errands while Sellers and I enjoyed the new radio controlled race car his Granne picked up for him at Target. Mom's housekeeper Dew came out with an armload of plastic cups to use as pylons, a trick that entertained us at least as much as it did her own five grandchildren.

After the first dog mission Momma, the kids, and I went off to the Children’s Museum of Memphis, where we began by experimenting with the miracle of flight. Abby enjoyed the sawed-off jet donated by Federal Express, while Sellers was enthralled by the wind tunnel and the flight simulator. Together we crashed a simulated Cessna about ten times before we had to give others a turn. From there it was on to a children’s Habitrail (Promus Corporation), a pint-sized grocery store (Kroger), the paper airplane lab (International Paper), Curious George’s World (Scholastic), and the Auto Zone Garage. But their favorite part was definitely the gift shop.

From there we detoured to Sonic for smoothies and then on to a veterinarian’s office to check on a couple more rescue dogs. Abby of course plans to be a veterinarian one day, and she was almost as fascinated by the veterinary exams as Sellers was by the peeling paint in the hallway.

Then it was swimming time. Just as I got exhausted flinging Abby and Sellers into the deep end Dad returned from the hospital and took over as the human diving board. In the meantime Granne syringe-fed a starved puppy.

Finally we got cleaned up and headed on my own Memphis pilgrimage, a ritual far more critical than visiting Graceland: dinner at Pete & Sam’s restaurant. (If you’re from Memphis, just skip this paragraph.) Pete and Sam opened up their southern Italian restaurant 52 years ago in a Travel Lodge near the airport. It has changed locations once and had one fire, but while the old red and black velvet flocked wallpaper is gone (mostly) the menu hasn’t changed since the day it opened.

In Memphis, pork barbeque is considered a regular pizza topping like, say, pepperoni. Pete & Sam’s barbeque pizza shall always be for me the standard by which all other pizzas are judged. This, as you might imagine, has caused me consternation in cities like New York, Chicago, and Rome, but barbeque pizza is my birthright. Their house salad, bread, ravioli, parmesan spinach, and iced tea (no, we don’t even offer it sweetened in Memphis, y’all, that’s what the little sugar packets on the table are for!) stand equally as platonic ideals. Abby placated me by eating a baby barbeque pizza. Sellers fell asleep after the bread, but at least he’s been there. Best of all, Mossie, who helped me put plaque on my little arteries since I was Abby’s age, was there to work her magic on a whole new generation.

Abby and Sellers feed the koi before we take off for Nirvana.

Mossie embraces her fourth generation of customers.

There it is, the meal I prize above all others. So much for my gourmet posing.

Saturday opened with homemade blueberry muffins, bacon, and a trip through the attic to haul out a bunch of stuff to put in our attic here in Wilmington. Sellers was gratifyingly amazed at my rock collection, canteen, and Roger Moore-era 007 die cast car. Abby was intrigued by my shoeboxes of junior high school love letters. As I pored over miscellaneous lumps of clay, glass bottles, and commemorative decks of cards I realized Momma didn’t dump nearly as much of my stuff at yard sales as I thought. At age 40, I’ve finally moved out of my parents’ house. I just can’t wait to get a new 9-volt battery in the Simon game and show Sellers how it’s done.

Sellers wakes up Saturday to greet his doggie friends.

We still had time to frolic in the pool before Dad and I went to the UPS store to ship my junk and Tops Barbeque for one last good porky artery-clogging. Then we rushed to make it to the airport in time for our 6:30 PM flight back to Atlanta. Which turned into a 7:50 PM flight, then 8:50. The kids were troopers, entertaining themselves in the airport with reading, checkers, and Popeye’s chicken. When we finally got airborne we had a close-enough view of the weather system that was making our lives difficult.

Our wimpy-assed pilot said we should go around the weather system.

Abby and Sellers, flying late into the night but still looking oh so fresh.

Unfortunately our flight home from Atlanta wasn’t nearly as delayed as our flight from Memphis. Here I just have to praise Abby and Sellers for literally running through ATL wearing backpacks half their size. Abby was crying and clutching her stomach when we made our gate, but we did get on board that plane. I was on call Sunday (which was fast approaching), so being left in Atlanta was simply not a choice, no matter how good their bread is.

Abby was smart and grabbed a nap on the plane. Sellers, invigorated from his dash through the airport, wanted to play astronaut. I just have to say, it’s not as easy as you might think to play astronaut at 00:30 flying over South Carolina. I tried to pretend I was in suspended animation, but Sellers wasn’t buying it. He also beat me handily at checkers. Twice.

By 01:00 we were safely back at ILM, where we awaited our bags then staggered to the minivan for the drive home. That day’s call was, mercifully, not bad.

Still fresh.

Mom, we're home! We made it! Mom?

Julian was upset to be left home, but he did get his heart’s deepest desire, to be stranded alone with his Mommy, forever. We have now answered the question of whether Julian can get enough time with his mom. No. He can’t. But for the brief moments Margaret was able to peel him off her she put some finishing touches on her new office. Below you can see some before-and-afters. All the artwork, by the way, she painted herself.

Check in/Check out:

Waiting area:

Hallway:

Exam rooms:

Patient bathroom:

Staff lounge:

Margaret's office:

And that’s pretty much everything to date. In less than a week we’ll take off for our annual Collins-Hill-Fraker family vacation at Pawley’s Island. In the meantime, if you’re going to Memphis, I can get you directions to Pete & Sam’s, and I’ll let Mossie know to save you a table.