Balter Beerworks ain't got nothin' on me.

Three years ago I moved in with a co-worker to a loft in downtown Knoxville. Trying to live through a divorce and see who I was on the other side combined with having friends with good intention leave my life abruptly felt so lonely.

So lonely. My life had never been so quiet and lonely.

But I got started making a new life right away. I knew I wouldn't find it in my apartment - I had to get out and start looking. I started small.

I started going to this hole-in-the-wall called the Corner BP. I'd go alone if no one was around. But sometime the Roomstress would come too. It wasn't a very fancy operation, so it was no surprise when it ceased operation the summer after I moved in.

Last fall, plans were announced to re-open the Corner BP, this time named Balter Beerworks - and would also benefit from a $3 million renovation. It became another brewery in downtown, and opened earlier this spring.

For her birthday, and for our last hurrah together, I took the Roomstress to Balter for a celebratory dinner. We marveled at the craftsmanship of the restaurant, gasped at how fancy it all was, and said more than once "Can you believe THIS used to be the Corner BP?"

And I get it. No one needs to point it out - I understand the illustration. I moved in a sad little eggshell of a divorcee... and three years later I'm not. I'm just not. Everyone said it would happen. And I believed them. Sort of. But now here I am. Life may as well have invested $3 million in me.

Actually... I think it did.

It's like graduation day, honestly. And even though I've felt more than a couple of twinges of sadness when I think about moving out of the home I've had for the last three years, I know I'm moving on toward something bigger and better.

i was sad when i had to pull down all my fluttery butterflies

bye guys... thanks for watching over me....

And tomorrow; moving day. After that?

Who knows.

But I guarantee it'll only get better from here. And here's already pretty damn good.

Over and out.

Never let it be said that I don't know how to party

Christmas birthdays are HARD. Just ask anyone who has to share their big day with our Lord and Savior. You get trumped BIG TIME. I mean, virgin birth? Hello? Can anyone compete with that?

So imagine my pleasant surprise to receive an invitation to one Kathleen Callen's big day party. Now, because Kathleen is a lady, I won't say her age, but it was a BIG BIRTHDAY. And her mother, Bonnie, took her responsibility to throw her baby a party for the ages quite seriously.

And the day dawned, bright and early.... and all attendees gathered anxiously.... for.....

A tea party. A tea party that beats down any other tea party EVER.

you got to even pick which cup you liked best for your tea

This was no ordinary tea party. Bonnie did her homework.

menus were involved

There were finger sandwiches, many kinds of homemade cookies, jams, jellies, scones; you name it, Bonnie had made it. There was even, in homage to its recent movie release,

star wars cookies

It was quite a swanky affair.

heck, even the queen made an appearance

After tea, Bonnie invited all of the ladies to come into the kitchen where she had prepared, from scratch, a gingerbread house for each of us to decorate as we like.

it was like santa's workshop but in real life

We spent hours in her kitchen creating our masterpieces. Such a fun afternoon with such fun ladies!

i seriously want to live in it

clockwise, starting with me up top - Stacy Palado, cute girl Kathleen worked with at FUMC whose name I forgot (but had a great conversation with!), Kathleen, Missy Garner, her sister Suzy Booker, and Terri Eitt. 

and mother of the hour, Bonnie, with her birthday girl. thank you for such a fun party!

Not only did we get to take our masterpieces home, Bonnie sent each of us with a personal care package as well.

i was preparing for my disney excursion

basket full of goodies

Super fun day with friends. Thank you Bonnie for allowing us to celebrate such a great gal with such a great party! Your thoughtfulness is truly appreciated!

Happy Birthday (again) Kathleen!

The most depressing time of the year....

I hate putting away Christmas. I hate it. It just stinks. This year, though, marked a milestone - the Santas this time didn't get lugged back to the basement of Sterchi. This year, they went to DJ Smith's house where they are under his stewardship. I'll open them in November of 2016 in OUR house.

Yea. That's exciting!

Here's a shortened version of how Saturday's packing up of all of Christmas went:

Me: Oh, Benny, don't pack regular Christmas stuff in the Santa box. Put it in the regular Christmas stuff box.

DJ Smith, pausing mid-wrap: I already packed some regular Christmas stuff in here.

Me: That's ok. I'll get it when I open the Santa boxes first next year and put it in the regular Christmas box. But don't pack any more in that box. Use the regular Christmas stuff box.

Roomstress: I packed some regular Christmas stuff in the Spode box too. Is that ok?

Me: Yes, that's fine, but did you find my flat Santa box in the Spode box when you opened it?

Roomstress: Flat... Santa?

Me: Benny, that's a flat Santa! Give him here - don't pack him in the Santa box, I have to put him in my flat Santa box.

Benny: What the hell are you talking about?

Me: IT'S FLAT. They all go together. There's a box from JC Penny's that they go in.

Roomstress: I.... no. I didn't find a flat Santa box.

Me: I'm going to need a box for them. OR A FOLDER. Do you have a folder? A folder would be perfect.

Benny: I need another box to start packing in.

Me: DON'T USE THAT BOX. It's a Santa box. Only Santas go in the Santa box.

Ad infinity.

All I've got for today. Over and out.

Disney World junkie

I love me some Disney World. I do. I worked there as a participant in the College Program, and I proudly display my Ducktorate Degree framed at my desk at my current job. I had such a fun time last year with my person, Heath, and her 40th birthday trip to the Land of the Mouse, and came home talking about how great a time it was, Dipsey and Mama decided to take the whole Venable Clan to Disney World for Christmas.

It was wonderful. So much fun.

And walking into the theme park did indeed bring back a flood of memories.

But something this time was different. And it got me thinking.

Of all those children I helped make magic for all those years ago. And some of them were rapt with delight. Some weren't. And some were scared by what was going on, especially so when they realized that they'd wandered off and mom and dad weren't in sight.

I got to know "lost little kid" horror stare real well. Every kid reacts the same. Looking at each face, desperate to recognize someone - anyone! - and frighted of so many strangers surrounding them.

I knew what to do. Most parents will tell their child in the event that they get separated to find someone with a name tag and ask for help. So I'd walk up to and increasingly freaking out child, smile and point to my name tag and make sure he or she knew I worked there and I was going to help them find their parent. Ice cream sometimes helped too.

But that name tag was always the ticket. I once had a frightened child running away from another employee stop short when he saw my name tag and trusted me enough to let me pick him up. Every time it worked - that name tag meant I was here to help, and every child trusted me to help him or her back to mom and dad.

By the way, parents will never thank you for finding their lost child. They're too relieved for anything but maybe a desperate "thank you!" as they clutch their found little duckling closer to their chest, promising themselves that next time they will be more vigilant.

Back to this vacation. Walking in the park. Looking down to the little girl gleefully clutching my hand, eager for her day to begin at Disney with her Auntie. To the first child that ever held my heart in his hand, ready to don a Jedi robe and light saber duel Darth Vader. To the child who, quite soon, will be my step-daughter, whose care and concern are increasingly becoming more and more my care, concern and responsibility.

And with a lump in my throat, I bent down and whispered, "Guys, if anyone gets lost, find someone with a name tag on. They'll help you get back to us."

my handprint from the great movie ride, twenty years later.