Sister Tater called yesterday to see what fun things I had going on for my birthday. Tater thinks all birthdays ought to be big events. That's because she's still in her 40s. When she turns 50 she'll change her mind.
We celebrated my birthday Sunday night at TGIF on 22nd Street in DC. We'd started out at Foggy Bottom Pub, a tradition with the VietNow group, but had to find a quieter place. It was so crowded we couldn't turn around to scratch our itches in Foggy Bottom. I had gone to get some water for Pam and Eddie, when this fellow, about 6 ft. 4, leaned down over the roots of my dye-job and said, "Why you are sure cute. Are you hear with a boyfriend?" I lied and told him I was, since Tim was supposed to be there but hadn't arrived yet. It was the second time over the weekend that I'd been hit on. (sorry kids if this grosses you out, but yes, even though I'm older than the hills on granny's chest, men still hit on me. To be fair, most of the time they are three sheets to the wind.) The first time happened Saturday night around 11 p.m. I was sitting in the computer/bar area of the hotel when I heard this guy from behind me say, "Hey, how are you?" I was expecting to turn around and see somebody I knew but instead it was a fellow about my son's age. I'm sure he was just so drunk he saw my blonde hair & approached thinking I would be about his age. Then, of course, I turned and he could see my lizard face. I saw him leaving the bar shortly afterwards. I bet he'd figured out he'd had too much to drink real quick like.
Gordon and I just ran up to Don Ault's this afternoon. He and Don got to talking about all their partying days.
"Remember that gal with the guns?" Gordon asked.
"You mean ol' Evie Jean?" Don replied.
"Yeah, her."
"Daddy used to say, Here comes Evil Knivel."
"Remember when she came into the bar with that coat on?"
"I remember when she came down to the bar with that red mmmikini on (Ault's term for bikini), with those pistols strapped to her thighs. She'd climb all over Daddy's lap, wearing that mmmikini and those guns."
"I remember when she came into the bar and took that coat off and didn't have nothing on but those guns," Gordon said.
"You noticed the guns?" I asked.
Then they got to remembering when Don's brother, a Vietnam veteran, came into the bar and decided he was going to shoot the animal heads hanging above the bar. Guess killing them once wasn't good enough.
"He shot up the whole bar before Don got there and took that gun away. We was layed out on the ground, covering our heads. It's a wonder we wasn't all killed," Gordon said.
Of course, there's some that didn't get out of Ault's bar alive. Don told the story of when he came flying across the bar because some fellow at the pool table pulled a gun on the Moore boy. Don put a stop to the killing but the fella turned around the next week and shot the Moore boy anyway.
But every conversation came back to Eva Jean. I noticed a sign hanging between the sink and the refrigerator. "Liars Club. Established 1994."
Despite the drought the hillside is ablaze in oranges & reds and greens of every shade. The pileated woodpeckers were hanging around today, waiting to be fed. And cardinals of every size. Good to be in Tennessee during the fall.
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