My time has not been my own with catching up at work, having jury duty, and working after to get shit done after a day of jury duty. But I am eking out some time to finally post about the fabulous Steeplechase weekend!
I arrived Thursday afternoon completely shattered. It was a long, hot flight, and I was sufficiently sleep deprived as to be short on sugar and patience. Mom had told me that she and Dad would be in a H.G. Hill Board meeting and I should call their phones when I landed. They would be on silent but vibrate and I should try calling Dad's first. Jay Bradford was on my flight and suggested I ride home with him. Billy Lyle was coming to pick him up, and Jay's parents' place is only two or three streets away from Mom and Dad's. I called Dad's cell three or four times. Mom's three or four times, and sent text messages to both. Instead of getting them out of a meeting, I accepted Billy's gracious offer to take me home. En route, Mom called to say that Dad was already at the airport. I finally got dad who was still in traffic on his way there, but turned around and headed home. All of this might have been better coordinated had they thought to tell me that Dad had a new cell number.
It was nice to be home. I forget how lush Nashville is. And with the recent rain, even more so. It was sunny when I landed, and storming on the way home, and then humid and quiet by the time I made it to Sheppard Place. All I really wanted was a nap. Less wanted, more needed. Terribly. Previously just short on sugar and patience, I then running on fumes and ready to snap. Dad came home and welcomed me warmly. We chatted briefly, but if anyone knows the necessity of a nap, it's Papa John. Mom showed up and of course we needed our warm welcome homes. But really, I needed a nap. Ellen would be joining us for dinner, and Mom wanted to make reservations at 7:30 at the Club. That was fine by me. That would give me 15 minutes to sleep, 15 to get ready, and 10 to get there (it's just a block away). However, Mom felt the need to make the reservations while standing over me—me being in sleep shorts in my bed, head down, eyes closed. She brought in the cordless phone from their bedroom at the other end of the house to make the call next to me while I was trying to sleep. And, of course, partly for being nearly lobeless a headset can press uncomfortably against her earring, but moreso because the antenna from the phone might muss her hair, she has to use the speakerphone on the handset.
I was ready to crack. Barely holding it together. Impressing the importance that I have a nap before I take someone's head off. I manage to eke out 15 minutes to touch the dreamspace and pull myself together, and she brings a megaphone into my bedroom. My God I had forgotten how crazy my parents are.
And it wasn't just that. How could the accomplished socialite get to her [shall not be revealed] age and not know how to make a reservation? "Yes, we would like a table for four at 7:30. Under 'Hardcastle." That's all you need. But no, when Mom makes a reservation, she feels it necessary to share her life story, or at least the previous several hours. And painfully, in real time.
I kept muttering from bed "Just tell him how many and when. He doesn't need to know why."
"Really, I don't need to be here for this conversation."
"Can you please continue that call in the other room?"
Finally I reached the breaking point, and I am still impressed by my restraint. Any other Hardcastle man would have gone ballistic at this—I've seen it too many times. But still I had to yell to get her to understand, "Mother. I love you very much. GET OUT!" Basically, my 15 minutes of nap time were spent listening to a conversation that was the audio equivalent of watching someone fold up a map incorrectly. Arrgh.
I write all this not to dig on my mother, but to tell the story. Are we all completely annoyed by our parents? I mean, I love them dearly and we get along great. My family is tight, and that is saying something for all we have been through. And I certainly feel blessed when comparing my familial relationship with my cohort. I love my mother, but does she have to act like such a... mother all the time?
Luckily, we could not get a reservation until 8:00 and I got my 15 minutes of unconsciousness and was a much happier houseguest.
Dinner was fabulous and I got to see some familiar faces, and the added bonus of some quality time with my newly eleven niece Ellen.
Next update: Day 2: The Hunt Ball.
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