In this particular instance I'm telling the absolute truth.
Wanting to buy Sarah flowers because she loves fresh blooms in our house and in a moment of complete lust and love, I promised we would always have them.
What that actually means is I remember to get them about half the time.
Today I am determined because it was a rough weekend and the Christmas Poinsettias she'd brought home from work stand as naked on the dining room table as John O'Neill at a Winnie roast.
Grabbing Che, our almost 3 month old baby, I strap her in the car seat, crank the car, turn up some Buffett and hit the south end of Butler Avenue heading north towards the mainland.
As soon as I turn north to leave the island, Che starts to cry ... not a little ... a LOT!
"Damn Baby," I assure her reaching an arm into the back seat to comfort her because federal law prohibits her from being in the front seat with me, "don't cry. I'd give you your pacifier if I could reach but ... I'd be pulled over by multiple cops, frisked, searched and probably arrested because you're crying."
I can't stand it when she cries so I do a U turn at 8th and Butler and head south.
The moment I do, Che stops crying.
"Hmm," I mubble, "maybe this'll work out after all" so at 13th and Butler I do another U turn.
Che immediately screams and in the rearview mirror I see real tears.
"Shit!" I mutter and do another U-bie at 10th.
She stops crying.
"No way," I say in wonderment. "Let's check this out!"
Driving south, I turn at Tybrisa (formerly 16th which sits between 15th and 17th but for some reason the City named it something else) towards the Ocean.
Jimmy's singing about changes in latitudes and Che's happily kicking her legs and flailing her arms.
Eventually I take a right back onto Butler heading north and Jimmy must have left because all I can hear is Che screaming at the top of her lungs.
At The Breakfast Club I hang a left making a beeline to Venetian Drive and take a sharp right south ... Che laughs.
"There's no denying you are my child," I say as we head towards Tybee Market, pronounced Iga.
Grabbing our baby, we stroll inside and get flowers by Wanda and meat from Matt the Butcher.
Che screams the two-and-a-half blocks it takes to return home.
Laying her down, she happily falls asleep exhausted from our outing.
I cut the roses and place them in a vase pondering things.
We live on the southern end of a southern island in the South and while it's a great place, we'd like to head further south.
Somehow Sarah and I have already passed this on to our baby.
That's good.
I wonder how much further south it'll end up being?
My inclination is Che's gonna let us know when we get there.
