(Not Quite) Fifty Shades of Bops

 This is my cousin, Bops.

It's hard to tell from the above photo, but Bops turns fifty next week. For the occasion, her swell husband, Mike, saw fit to throw a surprise birthday party last night, and he invited all of Bops's friends and relatives. Bops had gone shopping in Atlanta with her oldest child, Rebecca, and when she got home, she was floored to see her house hopping with activity!

And even though Bops was exhausted from a day at Lenox, the party got her adrenaline going, and she partied down into the night.

Here are Harley and Tootie.

They showed her how fun it is to get down with your bad self. 

This is the cluster of party goers hiding out in the garage before Bops arrived. 

The bar was in the garage, so many folks decided to hang out there for much of the evening. 

However, others thought it was mighty pleasant in the warmth of the fire place.

Last night was just one night of fun with Bops, but over the 46 years that I've known her, I can think of many memories I've shared with her. I don't know if I can come up with fifty (that would be an awful lot to write down here), but I bet I can come close. So in honor of her big 5-0, here are some fun Bops facts:

• Bops's birthday is January 4, 1963. 
• Bops grew up in Hawkinsville, GA and graduated from Hawkinsville High School. 
• Bops was a majorette for the Hawkinsville High School Marching machine. 
• But I get ahead of myself. Long before she was in high school, Bops was a precocious, blonde little girl. She was more outgoing than I could have ever imagined myself to be. Whereas I was scared to death to talk to adults, Bops had no problem doing so. It always amazed me how she was not shy about anything.
  
  
  This is Bops (left) at my birthday party.
  I must have been about 3.
  She's trying to get me to smile for the camera.
  I'm clueless.
  P.S. That's Hatcher Way on the far left.
  • Many years on Christmas Eve, all the Lawson relatives used to gather at our grandparents' house on McCormick Avenue. Bobbie and Roger put their Christmas tree in their front living room, and one year, when I was about four or so (which would have made Bops about eight), she declared that she and I would don our black leotards and some other garments of Christmas costuming that she devised. Then we would perform a Christmas dance for the family. I was game, but we never practiced a dance, so when it was show time, Bops wrapped a long skirt around my waist and said, "Just follow my lead." I tried to, but the skirt was so long that while Bops was amazing the crowd with her arabeques and pas de beurres,  I was tripping over my skirt and tumbling to the floor. It was abundantly entertaining for all the adults.
  • Bops and her brother, Tootie, taught me, Sabra, and Harley how to play kick the can, which we played on countless summer nights until dark thirty.
  • Bops grew up at 6 Clark Drive in a house her parents built in Pine Level Estates. We walked to each other's houses frequently by cutting through Harris Hardin's pasture and then through Dennis Vickers's yard. It never occurred to anyone to ask the Vickerses whether they minded us using their lawn as a thoroughfare.
  • I still remember Bops's phone number from those days.
  • When Bops was little, she had some mighty bucked teeth. She could have chewed her way through a locked door if she needed to. But then she got braces, and her teeth looked beautiful. Then, shortly after those braces came off, she dove into D. T. Clark's pool into the shallow end, and she hit her mouth of the bottom, chipping those newly straightened front teeth. That had to have hurt like a $(@@%#*!.
  • We spent many a weekend out at the farm, and Bops's dad, Stewart once tied the side of a washing machine to a rope and then tied the other end of the rope to his car. He would pull that piece of sheet metal through the cow pastures and two of us would take turns sitting on it and riding. On one turn, Bops rode with Harley. As they laughed and bumped along, cow pies flew left and right, but one popped up and hit Harley in the face. He tossed it aside and kept riding, but I remember the grimace on Bops's face as she called, "Eww! That was fresh!"
  • When I was in the first grade, which would have put Bops in about the fifth grade, Hawkinsville experienced an active tornado season. One twister ripped right through the farm and upturned many oak and pecan trees. So one afternoon, Bops came over to play, and she decided that we should have tornado drills. She instructed us to find various places to hide (Bops was always good at instructing us to do things), and then when she yelled "Tornado!" we were to run to that hiding place. We practiced all afternoon. I never said anything, but each time she yelled, "Tornado!" I got a little more frightened that a natural disaster might actually hit, so by the time he had our fourth or fifth drill, I was scared out of my mind. I'm sure she thought it was very exciting.
  • One occasion seared into Bops's memory (literally) was the time she went with her family to the officers' club to eat dinner. I think our grandparents accompanied Bops's family on that outing. Bops was seated at one end of the table, and Tootie was seated at the other. Bops was enjoying her meal, minding her own business, while Tootie stayed at his end of the table heating a spoon over the centerpiece candle. Then, without a word, Tootie got up from his seat, walked to the other end of the table, and touched that hot spoon on Bops's arm. As Bops tells the story, "Mama yelled at me for screaming." She still has a mark on her arm as a souvenir of that dinner.
  • When I was in second grade or so, which would have put Bops in the fifth grade or so, the popular item everyone got for Christmas was a go-kart. That was in the early 1970's, so Harris Hardin had not yet built his house on the pasture behind our house, and we would ride those go-karts all over that pasture. Usually at least three go-karts were going at one time because Bops and Tootie had one, the Ways had one, and we had one. That pasture was the perfect place to ride those go-karts, and the only snag was that some man I never met named Mr. Smith kept calling our parents and telling them we were riding our go-karts through his yard, which we never did (and couldn't have because the pasture was enclosed by a wire fence). Mom believed us when we told her we were not offending the Smith yard, but we never understood why Mr. Smith repeatedly and falsely ratted us out. Years later, after Bops became a nurse, she worked with a medical technician who identified himself as the son of that Mr. Smith. He explained that he wanted a go-kart also, and he would watch us ride every day and beg his dad to buy him one. So Mr. Smith would call our parents and complain to them, hoping our parents would take the go-karts away so that his son would not nag him. Mr. Smith died years ago, but to this day I hold him in contempt.
  • When I was in the third grade (so Bops was in the 7th grade), our families took a road trip together to Washington DC. Our parents hired Laurie Stembridge, who was about seventeen at the time, to come with us to help with the kids. I thought Laurie was a movie star. Laurie, Bops, Sabra, and I shared a hotel room. That was one experience with Bops during which I was not scared out of my mind, but I do remember that Harley came down with the mumps.
  • When I was ten and Bops was fourteen, I accompanied her on a trip to Highlands, NC to visit Aunt Harriet. Tootie, of course, went along. Tootie and I were at odds the entire trip, and our conflicts drove Bops up a tree. I think she was glad to see me hop out of the car when her parents took me home.
  • Around that same time, I rode with our grandparents, Bobbie and Roger, to Ailey to visit our aunt and uncle, Nancy and Tom. Bops went as well. It must have been a summer day because Roger drove with the windows down. All the while he enjoyed some freshly picked scuppernongs. He would suck the juice and goodness out of each one before spitting the gooey seedy part out the window. Unfortunately, Bops was seated behind him, and whenever he spat out the scuppernong goo, it would fly in through Bops's window and hit her in the face. I remember her begging  Roger to stop. I don't remember whether he did.
  • When I was eleven (which would have made Bops about fifteen), I went swimming with Bops, Tootie, Sabra, and Harley at Scott Smith's house, which was right down the street from Bops and Tootie's house. While Bops, Sabra and I played Marco Polo, Tootie and Harley found the plastic skimmer cover and began to sling it over the pool like a Frisbee. I popped up out of the water to yell "Marco!" just as Tootie sent that cover sailing toward the deep end, and it hit me right between the eyes. I can still hear Bops's scream. I don't know who ran to tell Bops and Tootie's mom, but she had to take me to the emergency room, and I got five stitches right between my eyebrows. Bops said, "They gave you a shot right inside your cut!" She thought it was grossly cool. I was scared out of my mind. 
  • When Bops was sixteen (almost seventeen) and I was thirteen, we were hanging out at her house when her friend John Porter came over. Bops and John thought it would be a real hoot if Bops dressed me up, curled my hair, and put makeup on me and then invited over some guy named Wayne Bennett and told him I was sixteen. So John waited downstairs while Bops transformed me into a cool teenager. John called Wayne, who came right over, and for some reason, John and Bops decided that the mature thing to do would be to drive over to the river so we could all walk across the abandoned railroad trestle. I don't remember everything about that afternoon, but I remember crawling along the tracks, looking down on the Ocmulgee River, scared out of my mind. I was so afraid that I was going to lose my balance and fall to my death. How Bops and John crossed that trestle with no fear is beyond me.
  • 
  • When Bops graduated from high school, she went to the University of Georgia, where she pledged Zeta Tau Alpha and had a swell time. But then she met Mike Henry and started dating him, and when they got married, Bops returned to Hawkinsville and finished her nursing program at Middle Georgia College (I think).
    
  • But before Bops married Mike, she dated him, of course, and one day my dad asked Bops to drive me, Sabra, and Harley to Macon. He let her drive us in his Pontiac T6000, a little red hatch back we usually called the Farm Car. Bops was not that experienced with stick shifts, but she did fine until we got to Macon. Mike was playing softball somewhere up there, and she wanted to drive by and say hello. But on the way to field, she found herself driving up a pretty steep hill, at the top of which was a stop sign. Well, you can just guess what happened next. I think traffic was backed up all the way to I-75 before she got that car going. I think she was thrilled to give that car back to Dad.
  • Bops and Mike eventually moved in to the little house next to our grandparents' house. To this day we call it Auntma's house, even though Auntma died in about 1976.
     
  • When I was in college, I worked summers at the Pulaski Banking Company, so I would see Bops and Mike a lot. The first summer I worked there, Bops and I took another trip to Washington, DC, where we visited Rena and Johnny, who were living there at the time. Johnny would drop us off at the Metro station, and Bops and I would traipse around the nation's capital all day long until Johnny picked us back up at the end of the day. Eventually, Tootie joined us, as well as John McCune. Tootie brought his girlfriend, Amy, along, but he must have gotten tired of her company by that trip. I remember one night we all went out to dinner and a movie, and then we all came home and went to bed. Tootie and John waited until Amy fell asleep. Then they got dressed again and went out clubbing. Amy found out about it the next day. I think she went home then too.

  
  Well, that was twenty-three facts about Bops. Maybe Mike and Tootie can add twenty-two more. In fact, there's a comment link at the bottom of this post. If you have a different memory about Bops, feel free to post it here. Or post it on her Facebook page so all her friends can see it (but be sure to share it with me).
  
  Meanwhile, happy birthday, Bops!

Rams on Ice and Some Big Fat Hogs

Weekends at the Remler household are always full of something, and this weekend is an excellent example. It started Friday morning as Lawson and the rest of the eighth grade at St. Peter the Apostle School took a field trip. We started the morning at McDonald's for a healthy breakfast of McGriddles, McMuffins, and McFlurries. Nothing like a tummy full of calories and trans fats to fortify us for a morning on the ice.

Don't these boys look like they're ready to attempt some Salchows?

Then off we went to the Savannah Civic Center, where two dozen adolescents strapped blades to their feet and skidded across a frozen arena floor--some more gracefully than others.

Lawson blends in nicely in his camouflage jacket. 

I have to hand it to Adam King, who, within minutes of arrival, had already learned to skate backwards. Riley Sheppard picked up some new tricks, thanks to the help of the volunteer coaches. She, Bridget, and Elizabeth seemed to catch on pretty quickly to those spins.

It was a fun and active day for the eighth grade, and fortunately, no one got hurt, thanks, I'm sure to our three volunteer coaches, who made sure everyone skated safely. 

And many thanks go to Mrs. Newton, who arranged the field trip, as well as to Holly Price, class mom extraordinaire, who organized the volunteer chaperons:  Mrs. Sheppard, Mrs. Thompson, and Mrs. O'Connor. 

 

They're a great group of kids.

But then the day got even better, because Davis came home! This time for a whole month. He stepped off the airplane in his dress blues, but he didn't give me chance to take a photo (I'll get one later). Lawson tried to make up for it, but it's not quite the same thing. 

 

Smashing!

Davis wasn't home twenty-four hours before he started making plans to go duck hunting. He and his cousin Ben got up with the chickens Sunday morning and set off in the Triton to flush those duckies out of the marsh. They got a couple of ducks, but they weren't expecting to flush out three wild hogs also. Unfortunately, Ben ran out of ammo when the big hog charged. Fortunately, Davis had plenty in his shotgun, so he nailed that porker in the head, along with his two buddies.

They're in the back yard flaying those pigs right now. My gross-out meter is in the red, so I remain in front of the computer until they present me with some bacon.

I just hope that pig doesn't break the branch of my little oak tree.

Keeping the Home Fires Burning--In a Different Way

Devoted Remlerville fans likely remember Thanksgiving posts of years gone by, in which I've highlighted detailed accounts of our Friday night wienie roasts and subsequent infernos. I believe the most famous Lawson fire took place last year as the blaze consumed tires, plastic chairs, car batteries, barrels, and a fiberglass boat.

This year's pyromania took a much more subtle approach. The wienie roast took place in the back yard in town, and not much got burned other than logs, hot dogs, and marshmallows. Still, Thanksgiving wouldn't be Thanksgiving without setting something unusual on fire. This year, it was snack foods.

Sometime over the last summer, someone in my family (I think it was my mom) emailed me one of those forwarded messages that listed lots of innovative things you can do with regular household items. You know the things I'm talking about:  cleaning windows with coffee maker filters, using binder clips to help you stack soda cans in the fridge, placing a wooden spoon across the top of a pot to keep it from boiling over (still haven't tried that one).

Well, one of the handy tips on this list was the following:  "If you're ever camping and you run out of kindling, you can always start your fire with Doritos."

Now, I've always been a fan of those mouthfuls of nacho cheese goodness. In fact, I've taught my children that Doritos are God's little triangular way of letting us know that he loves us and wants us to be happy. So if my favorite sandwich side dish could take the place of lighter fluid, I wanted to know about it.

Then Stephen said, "I've read that when arsonists want to get fires going quickly, they start them in the chip aisle because the chip bags have gas in them to keep the chips from getting crushed." In retrospect, I should have been a little suspicious of that rumor, having never known of a grocery store to burn to the ground. But Stephen's claim had me curious about chip bags as well. So prior to the excursion to Hawkinsville, I made a trip to the Sandfly Piggly Wiggly and purchased two bags of chips (one regular and one sour cream and onion) and one bag of Lay's brand Doritos. The experiment was on.

First of all, it was hard to keep Lawson out of the Doritos. That little apple didn't even fall off the tree. But because I had purchased the family size bag, we had enough Doritos for the experiment and for Lawson to load up on carbs and sodium prior to the tremendous Thanksgiving turkey dinner.

Our initial experiment was with the potato chip bags. We put the bag of regular chips on top of a log and waited for it to explode. The experiment was underwhelming as the bag simply caught fire and burned up in a few seconds.

So then we fashioned a foil enclosure for the sour cream and onion bag of chips, our hypothesis being that if the bag didn't catch fire, it would eventually expand and explode. Watch what happens...



You can see Lawson in the background munching on Doritos and then snatching them away from Sabra when she tries to rescue them for our next experiment. Didn't Sabra do a good job with that folding? The bag did actually make a popping sound, but we didn't catch it on camera, which is odd, considering we did catch all the conversation surrounding the fire, as well as Lawson's crunching. When Dave Cannon unwrapped the foil, he found no potato chip bag, only chips. And we all appreciate his volunteering to sample them two or three times before confirming that they did indeed taste like plastic. So much for experiment number 1.

Experiment number 2 was a little slower going because Doritos are not as easy to light as one might think. One cannot use a simple Bic lighter because one might singe one's thumbs. If we had one of those Aim 'n Flame lighters, that would have been perfect, but, finding no such lighter on the premises, we opted for matches that worked much better.
So there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. Doritos do burn. Not only that, but the heat makes the trans fats ooze out of the chips and form a black oily puddle while a strange, gray smoke--nothing resembling wood smoke at all--curls from the chippy embers. At least for this holiday season, I am grossed out by the nacho cheese chip. So the next time you're in the mood for snack foods, I would recommend pretzels or popcorn, but not the crunch fire starters by Frito Lay.

As for the rest of the holiday, we had an exciting time:

• We're all glad Betsy's okay. Lesson learned: run swiftly and carry a big stick. 
• We're thankful for a large family and the delicious meal BB cooked and served to us.
• We never tire of playing corn hole and horse shoes.
• We were especially thankful to have Davis home with us for the long weekend, and we congratulate him on his hunting prowess.
• When the kids get cranky, just put them on the roof.