Sunday, June 13, 2010
a codega would be nice
I'm reading again. Not sure if many know this, but when I read, I tend to take on some magical power from the author/writer and it has the same effects as an antidepressant on my mood and general self-image. But mainly, it makes me want to write. And it makes me LIVE in a novel, where everything I experience is something that, in my head, I write down in the imaginary memoir that I have been writing since I was...oh, I don't know...really really young.
But whenever I think of becoming one, I get this deep inner anxiety and decide to be okay for now with my inner, imaginary novella. And sometimes I blog.
So today I returned from Beaufort, SC. A few weeks ago I realized, very happily, that my family has LONG time friends only 1.5 hrs away. It's like I knew this but it wasn't floating on my present mind. I meant to go last weekend with Robert but complications prevented an enjoyable visit for us, so I swore to return, and did. I arrived in Okatie around 2pm on Saturday, was greeted warmly by Don and Helen, directed to settle into the guest cottage, was fed (Don's special greasy rice) and then promptly escorted to the dock to begin my reason for going: to learn the simple art of casting for shrimp.
Saturday night as my (thoroughly soiled) cotton skirt and tank top soaked in the sink upstairs, we enjoyed a wonderful dinner of rice, stewed tomatoes and zucchini, steamed sugar snap peas, hot bread and Portuguese "Green" wine.
I was staying in the guest house with Don's sister Marjorie...one of the most absolutely delightful women I have met to-date. She was staying in the master bed room downstairs and I chose the loft bedroom (up the 2.5ft wide staircase to the room-on-the-roof) over the two twins downstairs. Don and I went to cast a few more times after dinner, then I sat with them on their screened porch for a bit before retiring to the cottage to watch Law and Order with Marjie and her little dog Sarah.
Breakfast was set for 8am at Don and Helen's. Marj and I had a cup of coffee and talked on the porch about why her tomato plant had never blossomed before walking across the yard. After eating (shrimp and grits, sliced tomato, hot bread with butter and honey) Don and I boarded his golf cart once more, this time to explore his land where his fish pond, pine grove and 1948 ford tractor (that still runs) reside...and to pick blueberries at his daughters house. We were back by 10:15 and I decided to begin packing to head home. When I returned to throw my bags in the car I found several bags of fresh veggies, several pounds of frozen shrimp, more blueberries, a baby rosemary plant, a baby azalea and the coffee can of gardenias I had picked out in the woods as he was proving to me that the tractor DID still run.
And if you can't tell, I have concluded that this was a blissful, perfect weekend. There is nothing else that I wanted to do. I drove home on back roads through Jasper and Chatham County and didn't even mind when, around 12:30, my air conditioner quit working.
At 4:15 I decided to go to the pool. That was when my confidence was heavily challenged, but I'm glad I went. Yes, I'm a social worker, I can navigate almost ANY social scenario and I am NOT afraid of people....at least not when I'm working, shopping, eating or any other relatively purposeful activity....but going to the pool alone is terrifying, going RUNNING in public is terrifying. Yes I feel better for doing it, yes it's good for me, no I have no REAL reason to feel that way, but the truth is....in general, most people scare the living hell out of me (oh wait, is that a direct contradiction?). Anyway, I went to the pool, sat in the corner (in the shade b/c I'm still nursing a burn from LAST weekend) and plotted to get in the water after the snooty sorority sisters and their sperry-wearing wanna-be boyfriends had left...but ended up reading many many chapters, sweating out any water I drank today, doing a smidgen of people watching and then wrapping up in my sarong before navigating my way out of the pool area (all the while certain the three 'kids' in the pool were secretly looking at me and whispering "who the hell does she think she is, and WHAT is she wearing, and ohmygod look at that cellulite")
haha. I know no one really gives a hoot. and I had already inspected the other females at the pool and determined I was NOT older, uglier, frumpier or fatter than the majority of them...okay maybe frumpier (I mean, I did arrive wrapped in a sarong, wearing a long sleeved cotton blouse, ball cap and sunglasses...oh well)...so I am hopping in the shower and wearing something comfortable to go out for pizza with friends and thus will conclude my perfect weekend.
adios, ciao, a tout a leur, buenas noches...see you later little blog
But whenever I think of becoming one, I get this deep inner anxiety and decide to be okay for now with my inner, imaginary novella. And sometimes I blog.
So today I returned from Beaufort, SC. A few weeks ago I realized, very happily, that my family has LONG time friends only 1.5 hrs away. It's like I knew this but it wasn't floating on my present mind. I meant to go last weekend with Robert but complications prevented an enjoyable visit for us, so I swore to return, and did. I arrived in Okatie around 2pm on Saturday, was greeted warmly by Don and Helen, directed to settle into the guest cottage, was fed (Don's special greasy rice) and then promptly escorted to the dock to begin my reason for going: to learn the simple art of casting for shrimp.
Saturday night as my (thoroughly soiled) cotton skirt and tank top soaked in the sink upstairs, we enjoyed a wonderful dinner of rice, stewed tomatoes and zucchini, steamed sugar snap peas, hot bread and Portuguese "Green" wine.
I was staying in the guest house with Don's sister Marjorie...one of the most absolutely delightful women I have met to-date. She was staying in the master bed room downstairs and I chose the loft bedroom (up the 2.5ft wide staircase to the room-on-the-roof) over the two twins downstairs. Don and I went to cast a few more times after dinner, then I sat with them on their screened porch for a bit before retiring to the cottage to watch Law and Order with Marjie and her little dog Sarah.
Breakfast was set for 8am at Don and Helen's. Marj and I had a cup of coffee and talked on the porch about why her tomato plant had never blossomed before walking across the yard. After eating (shrimp and grits, sliced tomato, hot bread with butter and honey) Don and I boarded his golf cart once more, this time to explore his land where his fish pond, pine grove and 1948 ford tractor (that still runs) reside...and to pick blueberries at his daughters house. We were back by 10:15 and I decided to begin packing to head home. When I returned to throw my bags in the car I found several bags of fresh veggies, several pounds of frozen shrimp, more blueberries, a baby rosemary plant, a baby azalea and the coffee can of gardenias I had picked out in the woods as he was proving to me that the tractor DID still run.
And if you can't tell, I have concluded that this was a blissful, perfect weekend. There is nothing else that I wanted to do. I drove home on back roads through Jasper and Chatham County and didn't even mind when, around 12:30, my air conditioner quit working.
At 4:15 I decided to go to the pool. That was when my confidence was heavily challenged, but I'm glad I went. Yes, I'm a social worker, I can navigate almost ANY social scenario and I am NOT afraid of people....at least not when I'm working, shopping, eating or any other relatively purposeful activity....but going to the pool alone is terrifying, going RUNNING in public is terrifying. Yes I feel better for doing it, yes it's good for me, no I have no REAL reason to feel that way, but the truth is....in general, most people scare the living hell out of me (oh wait, is that a direct contradiction?). Anyway, I went to the pool, sat in the corner (in the shade b/c I'm still nursing a burn from LAST weekend) and plotted to get in the water after the snooty sorority sisters and their sperry-wearing wanna-be boyfriends had left...but ended up reading many many chapters, sweating out any water I drank today, doing a smidgen of people watching and then wrapping up in my sarong before navigating my way out of the pool area (all the while certain the three 'kids' in the pool were secretly looking at me and whispering "who the hell does she think she is, and WHAT is she wearing, and ohmygod look at that cellulite")
haha. I know no one really gives a hoot. and I had already inspected the other females at the pool and determined I was NOT older, uglier, frumpier or fatter than the majority of them...okay maybe frumpier (I mean, I did arrive wrapped in a sarong, wearing a long sleeved cotton blouse, ball cap and sunglasses...oh well)...so I am hopping in the shower and wearing something comfortable to go out for pizza with friends and thus will conclude my perfect weekend.
adios, ciao, a tout a leur, buenas noches...see you later little blog
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
dey - ja - vooooooo y'all
"I knowed it. I seen it comin...blew it right off the blocks"
(I still can't remember where the heck that quote came from but all I know is it makes me laugh..maybe SNL)
Like I said, I knew it would come. And I have been squarely hit by the spirit and am bearing witness to the power of clorox my friends.
So without further ado, I shall reference my clorox material. My history with the stuff. And my hopes that Stella and I will survive this one without any bathroom traumatics.
CLOROX
Now...back to the kitchen floor...my entire living room smells like the indoor pool of a Motel 8. I'm a cleanin machine.
Cheerio-
(I still can't remember where the heck that quote came from but all I know is it makes me laugh..maybe SNL)
Like I said, I knew it would come. And I have been squarely hit by the spirit and am bearing witness to the power of clorox my friends.
So without further ado, I shall reference my clorox material. My history with the stuff. And my hopes that Stella and I will survive this one without any bathroom traumatics.
CLOROX
Now...back to the kitchen floor...my entire living room smells like the indoor pool of a Motel 8. I'm a cleanin machine.
Cheerio-
Monday, May 17, 2010
afterburn
for the last three days (actually I believe it may have been getting "worse" for a few weeks now) I have been addicted (I wish there was a better, more hungry-sounding word) to reading...but the last few days it's been at it's peak...reading anything I can get my hands on. Like a pregnant woman to ice cream and pickles. The ingredients in my face lotion, magazine articles about things I don't even care that much about, online news (and even some propaganda just for kicks)...but mostly a book. And now I've finished Lacuna and tonight I realized my home has not been caring for itself in my absence...sigh.
Stella has created a nest out of the slew of papers strewn in the corner of my living room. She has scratched them into a sloppy circle with a small space of carpet in the center, and there she stays all day. I come home for lunch and she's there...and she doesn't budge. Now, of course when it is TIME for me to be home for the night she meets me at the door and rolls over, waiting for me to find her "bunkie" and toss it into the bedroom for her to retrieve. Nevermind that she's a cat.
So this is what has happened to me in the grips of the latest Kingsolver--And I'm not sure the book was even that addicting. Good, no doubt (did seem a smidge weaker than her others, but still very good) but it became the simple act of reading that ended up consuming my afternoon today and kept me indoors when the temperature outside was perfect for going for a jog--The picture of my apartment in it's neglect and disarray. a salt shaker on my living room windowsill, bedroom pillow in the armchair, the half-unpacked suitcase from my WV trip LAST weekend sitting open and rummaged through outside my bathroom, no toilet paper, no dishwashing detergent (consequently not that many dishes needing to be washed as I haven't seemed to eat much here lately...a microwaved bowl of soup, reheated pasta, popcorn)...Roberts mother would be appalled, thank God I'm quarantined off from the rest of my life for the time being...anyone would be ashamed of such a state I'm in. I've been determined to clean for a week now...hasn't happened.
I'm sure I will go on a cleaning tear any day now. Maybe even any minute. It seems to always take me a week or so to regroup from going out of town. I should get better at it seeing as how I've been travelling so much lately, but then again maybe that's the reason...haven't been here long enough to regroup before I'm off again, leaving this resort island any chance I get to taste my old life or see familiar faces. Sounds pathetic I know...I should really dig in and live it up while I'm at the coast, but my word...for all it's tourism and social happenings, this place can get lonely.
When I closed the book -- I saved two chapters at the end and plotted not to read them so it was never over...an old habit of mine that hasn't showed up in years, (welcome back you strange little self defense mechanism) -- I went to my bookshelf to finger through and see if there was possibly one in there I hadn't read...stolen from my brother's collection or unburied from the dusty shelves of the SC house...nothing caught my eye. So I called my mother back, then called Rob back, then sat back in my arm chair...and decided to blog.
Now, a grocery list...perhaps if I purchase the cleaning supplies I will feel obligated to use them...ah...psychology...and I'm off to bed. Adios.
Stella has created a nest out of the slew of papers strewn in the corner of my living room. She has scratched them into a sloppy circle with a small space of carpet in the center, and there she stays all day. I come home for lunch and she's there...and she doesn't budge. Now, of course when it is TIME for me to be home for the night she meets me at the door and rolls over, waiting for me to find her "bunkie" and toss it into the bedroom for her to retrieve. Nevermind that she's a cat.
So this is what has happened to me in the grips of the latest Kingsolver--And I'm not sure the book was even that addicting. Good, no doubt (did seem a smidge weaker than her others, but still very good) but it became the simple act of reading that ended up consuming my afternoon today and kept me indoors when the temperature outside was perfect for going for a jog--The picture of my apartment in it's neglect and disarray. a salt shaker on my living room windowsill, bedroom pillow in the armchair, the half-unpacked suitcase from my WV trip LAST weekend sitting open and rummaged through outside my bathroom, no toilet paper, no dishwashing detergent (consequently not that many dishes needing to be washed as I haven't seemed to eat much here lately...a microwaved bowl of soup, reheated pasta, popcorn)...Roberts mother would be appalled, thank God I'm quarantined off from the rest of my life for the time being...anyone would be ashamed of such a state I'm in. I've been determined to clean for a week now...hasn't happened.
I'm sure I will go on a cleaning tear any day now. Maybe even any minute. It seems to always take me a week or so to regroup from going out of town. I should get better at it seeing as how I've been travelling so much lately, but then again maybe that's the reason...haven't been here long enough to regroup before I'm off again, leaving this resort island any chance I get to taste my old life or see familiar faces. Sounds pathetic I know...I should really dig in and live it up while I'm at the coast, but my word...for all it's tourism and social happenings, this place can get lonely.
When I closed the book -- I saved two chapters at the end and plotted not to read them so it was never over...an old habit of mine that hasn't showed up in years, (welcome back you strange little self defense mechanism) -- I went to my bookshelf to finger through and see if there was possibly one in there I hadn't read...stolen from my brother's collection or unburied from the dusty shelves of the SC house...nothing caught my eye. So I called my mother back, then called Rob back, then sat back in my arm chair...and decided to blog.
Now, a grocery list...perhaps if I purchase the cleaning supplies I will feel obligated to use them...ah...psychology...and I'm off to bed. Adios.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
mush
Years ago my step-father confided in me as we were sitting on the deck looking at the stars and having drinks way past our bedtime, "Your mother is concerned that you'll never settle down, never be happy, with such high expectations. She thinks you will find fault in anyone and move on..."
(And after my second dog adoption she told me she believed I was surrounding myself with animals to "fill the void of a meaningful human relationship")
The truth is I saw too much fault in myself and still struggle with that, but less often...but that's another story all together. I had relationships, but she was right..."meaningful" wasn't in them.
So my mother wanted to know why...such picky wishful dreaming (there is probably a list of research supported ideas) but eventually I came to a point in life where I knew exactly what I wanted, as far fetched as it sounded to some...and I was getting tired of wasting my time pondering on one thing or another- props -I just wanted to be happy
"you just can't sing a depressing song when you're playing the banjo" - Steve Martin
(And after my second dog adoption she told me she believed I was surrounding myself with animals to "fill the void of a meaningful human relationship")
The truth is I saw too much fault in myself and still struggle with that, but less often...but that's another story all together. I had relationships, but she was right..."meaningful" wasn't in them.
So my mother wanted to know why...such picky wishful dreaming (there is probably a list of research supported ideas) but eventually I came to a point in life where I knew exactly what I wanted, as far fetched as it sounded to some...and I was getting tired of wasting my time pondering on one thing or another- props -I just wanted to be happy
"you just can't sing a depressing song when you're playing the banjo" - Steve Martin
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Happy Birthday and Congrats, little brother
This is a belated blog to commemorate my little bros 26th birthday AND his being offered a job around the same time. Much celebration was had. And for the first time in a long while all the cousins were together and I believe I speak for us all when I say we were a very happy bunch. My family is the best.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
spamburger hamburger
"jennifer jonhson" is getting on my nerves
she keeps sending me emails about auction processor positions and i can't make her stop!
c'mon gmail, learn the spam tags
speaking of head-hunters...of the sort
today while mailing a gift package and netflix, i was approached by a census taker guy. he told me i could make $13/hr working for the census after work and on the weekends. can i really pass that up? i mean, i live on a resort island...so it's not like i'll be traveling into the hood to get people to fill out their forms. i'm not even sure what the work entails, but i'm totally looking into it.....
then i found out his wife works for a company that my company contracts with. yet again another small world moment that happens nearly every waking hour since i've lived here. i'm telling you, by mid year i'm gonna know the entire population of st. simons island. i'm convinced.
well....it's been a while since i blogged and i missed this space, so this was the best i could come up with for now.
"you were there, and it was good in the beginning"
-peteyorn
she keeps sending me emails about auction processor positions and i can't make her stop!
c'mon gmail, learn the spam tags
speaking of head-hunters...of the sort
today while mailing a gift package and netflix, i was approached by a census taker guy. he told me i could make $13/hr working for the census after work and on the weekends. can i really pass that up? i mean, i live on a resort island...so it's not like i'll be traveling into the hood to get people to fill out their forms. i'm not even sure what the work entails, but i'm totally looking into it.....
then i found out his wife works for a company that my company contracts with. yet again another small world moment that happens nearly every waking hour since i've lived here. i'm telling you, by mid year i'm gonna know the entire population of st. simons island. i'm convinced.
well....it's been a while since i blogged and i missed this space, so this was the best i could come up with for now.
"you were there, and it was good in the beginning"
-peteyorn
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
cause life is short but sweet for certain....
Last Thursday was moving day. I took a half day at work and met the little bro (who graciously packed my house on Wednesday and drove the truck to the island...b/c he's the best). Stefan and I hauled that truckload up into my (now smaller) dwelling space--and what will be my official home...at least until Jan 31st 2011--and there-began my nestling into a 1br/1ba condo on Barnes Plantation (no relation...however I can't deny the name may have been an unconscious selling point additional to being the nicest I saw)
Later that evening I met Robbie at the Jacksonville airport with two Fat Tire beers and enough time-worn affection to warrant an acknowledging nod from the security guard assigned the duty of shuffling parkers away from the pick-up curb. An hour drive back to my apt and the three of us successfully sought out a good dinner of oysters and shrimp at Catch 228 in Red Fern Village across from my place.
Location location location greets me again. There is nothing better than being less than 10 minutes from work and an even shorter walk to restaurants and shops on a cool south Georgia island.
Lots of unpacking and a few days of nursing a wheezy beaux later Rob and I meandered into town for some shopping and stopped at Coastal Kitchen for food and ale remedy on the porch....I might add we just happened to stay there a bit beyond happy hour after chumming up with the bartender and her bro who happens to work at a local kayak rental place and promised to show us around next time Rob is in town....
...between a late lunch and early dinner we took a quick break to stroll down between the boats in the marina below the restaurant.
Then after a few more hours and a few peel-n-eat shrimp (and a few more brews) we found our way home (eventually, since Rob was driving and I wasn't giving very good directions.... "what? you dont know the island?")
Sooo! What a great weekend! And what a great start to a new life in a new place.
Heres my shout-out:
Many thanks to Mom, Wayne and Stefan for the moving efforts and more support than one girl could ever ask for. I have the best family. If I go into that any further I might tear up.
Thank you Rob for supporting and sharing this new part of my life with me.
Regards to all of my friends and fam (Nana, Jackie, Sheila, Suzie) who have been so encouraging while I was in search of a new job and a new home. You know who you are!
Many warm thanks to my adoring real estate agent and former neighbor Parks (the only man I've ever baked for!) and his lovely wife Judy (who sweetly visited me at work yesterday! what an awesome surprise!).
...and a not so common thank you to the mistakes I've made, the detours I've taken and the lessons I've learned thus far down this road I have come to call my own. I appreciate everyone who has stuck by me through those times as well-
I'm absolutely positive I would have never made it to where I am without these wonderful blessings in my life.
Later that evening I met Robbie at the Jacksonville airport with two Fat Tire beers and enough time-worn affection to warrant an acknowledging nod from the security guard assigned the duty of shuffling parkers away from the pick-up curb. An hour drive back to my apt and the three of us successfully sought out a good dinner of oysters and shrimp at Catch 228 in Red Fern Village across from my place.
Location location location greets me again. There is nothing better than being less than 10 minutes from work and an even shorter walk to restaurants and shops on a cool south Georgia island.
Lots of unpacking and a few days of nursing a wheezy beaux later Rob and I meandered into town for some shopping and stopped at Coastal Kitchen for food and ale remedy on the porch....I might add we just happened to stay there a bit beyond happy hour after chumming up with the bartender and her bro who happens to work at a local kayak rental place and promised to show us around next time Rob is in town....
Then after a few more hours and a few peel-n-eat shrimp (and a few more brews) we found our way home (eventually, since Rob was driving and I wasn't giving very good directions.... "what? you dont know the island?")
Sooo! What a great weekend! And what a great start to a new life in a new place.
Heres my shout-out:
Many thanks to Mom, Wayne and Stefan for the moving efforts and more support than one girl could ever ask for. I have the best family. If I go into that any further I might tear up.
Thank you Rob for supporting and sharing this new part of my life with me.
Regards to all of my friends and fam (Nana, Jackie, Sheila, Suzie) who have been so encouraging while I was in search of a new job and a new home. You know who you are!
Many warm thanks to my adoring real estate agent and former neighbor Parks (the only man I've ever baked for!) and his lovely wife Judy (who sweetly visited me at work yesterday! what an awesome surprise!).
...and a not so common thank you to the mistakes I've made, the detours I've taken and the lessons I've learned thus far down this road I have come to call my own. I appreciate everyone who has stuck by me through those times as well-
I'm absolutely positive I would have never made it to where I am without these wonderful blessings in my life.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Prince
here's my newest two friends of the island...Prince and his Uncle Arnold out at the farm....and if I'm lucky I'll be mucking stalls in my spare time this spring/summer, soaking up the smell of hay and equines and shaping up the arms! With an added perk of working with this little Tennessee Walker...
Sunday, January 03, 2010
Leaving town
There's something refreshing about moving to a new place. And sometimes it's a bit bittersweet...In my case the only bitter part is moving farther south and I am a little sad to leave my sweet neighbors Parks and Judy, and Scott, Whitney and Harper...but I'm exceedingly happy to be leaving the town I have lived in for the last nearly four years. I haven't lived somewhere for this long since I moved to Georgia 10 years ago, and I believe the time to move on came and went several months ago...it's just taken me a minute to catch up.
So today I am packing the things I will need for my first week at work at a new job on St. Simon's Island. I will be the new Social Worker for Marsh's Edge, a beautiful retirement community on the northern corner of the island near the horse stables (<--for anyone who has ever been there you probably know where I'm talking about). At first I was a little reluctant to pursue another job in social services because the place I worked last was a 2yr nightmare...I try not to think about it too much, but it was a very bad experience that I know I'm still getting over. Nevertheless, I am hopeful that this will be a better company to work for and am thrilled to be finally living on the coast, where I have always wanted to reside for a while.
The only things in my house that I found myself packing more than a few of (as far as housewares go) were my coffee mugs. I'm not sure why I'm so attached to them, but I've been collecting handmade mugs for several years now and there are a few that I wouldn't feel right leaving behind, even temporarily. It might be silly to find comfort in material things, but each mug has a story that's close to my heart. There's the mug I was given as a housewarming present when I first moved to Newnan. It was from REI coworker Chip McCuiston who owns "The Signature Shop" with his wife Carr...a folk art gallery that always carries a wide selection of local art. The next mug is also from their shop, but was a Christmas gift from another good REI friend and coworker. Next up is the very 1st perfect coffee drinking mug I found at Mountain Made in West Virginia...stopping at that store happened to delay our leaving Thomas just long enough for the new-found Rob to get off work and ride with us to the airport, where we missed our flight due to slow snow traffic and had to spend the night in Pittsburgh. Last but not least the mug I found just this fall while exploring a hidden art gallery in Boone, NC with good buddy Jess. We were on our way to the Wooly Worm Festival and traffic was so bad we detoured on a mountain road that had equally bad traffic, so we decided to take a break and peruse. She spotted them first, and found what became her perfect coffee mug...and I purchased it's sister mug because I thought it was a good mug too.
So that's my mug story! Haha. And here I close. After today I will no longer be a resident of Newnan, Georgia and am looking forward to a fresh start in a new town with the smell of salt in the air, palm trees and live oaks sagging their branches like big outstretched arms.
"You say goodbye, I say hello. Hello hello."
So today I am packing the things I will need for my first week at work at a new job on St. Simon's Island. I will be the new Social Worker for Marsh's Edge, a beautiful retirement community on the northern corner of the island near the horse stables (<--for anyone who has ever been there you probably know where I'm talking about). At first I was a little reluctant to pursue another job in social services because the place I worked last was a 2yr nightmare...I try not to think about it too much, but it was a very bad experience that I know I'm still getting over. Nevertheless, I am hopeful that this will be a better company to work for and am thrilled to be finally living on the coast, where I have always wanted to reside for a while.
The only things in my house that I found myself packing more than a few of (as far as housewares go) were my coffee mugs. I'm not sure why I'm so attached to them, but I've been collecting handmade mugs for several years now and there are a few that I wouldn't feel right leaving behind, even temporarily. It might be silly to find comfort in material things, but each mug has a story that's close to my heart. There's the mug I was given as a housewarming present when I first moved to Newnan. It was from REI coworker Chip McCuiston who owns "The Signature Shop" with his wife Carr...a folk art gallery that always carries a wide selection of local art. The next mug is also from their shop, but was a Christmas gift from another good REI friend and coworker. Next up is the very 1st perfect coffee drinking mug I found at Mountain Made in West Virginia...stopping at that store happened to delay our leaving Thomas just long enough for the new-found Rob to get off work and ride with us to the airport, where we missed our flight due to slow snow traffic and had to spend the night in Pittsburgh. Last but not least the mug I found just this fall while exploring a hidden art gallery in Boone, NC with good buddy Jess. We were on our way to the Wooly Worm Festival and traffic was so bad we detoured on a mountain road that had equally bad traffic, so we decided to take a break and peruse. She spotted them first, and found what became her perfect coffee mug...and I purchased it's sister mug because I thought it was a good mug too.
So that's my mug story! Haha. And here I close. After today I will no longer be a resident of Newnan, Georgia and am looking forward to a fresh start in a new town with the smell of salt in the air, palm trees and live oaks sagging their branches like big outstretched arms.
"You say goodbye, I say hello. Hello hello."
Saturday, January 02, 2010
what's that scritch scratchin
It seems that's every new year has a different twist to it....some years I can remember staying in bed as long as possible trying to will away the side effects of the last nights imbibery, some I've been solo and sober from dusk to dawn...last year was a mild headache, good food and hanging with fam for the weekend. This year I was up before everyone else (probably b/c I was in bed before everyone else too. oops!) and yesterday afternoon mom and I went trekking in the woods to explore for old homesteads on the land around their house (and found one!)...lots of old cotton plantations in that area. Very interesting indeed. Particularly watching mom climb over a barbed wire fence.
I debated all day yesterday on whether to leave for Newnan then or wait until today. And eventually I decided I needed to hit the road, so I left their house around 9pm. That put me home around 10, and I unloaded the car, searched for some paperwork I needed to mail today and plopped down at the computer to check email and whatnot.
About that time I heard a noise. Shuffling and bonking around somewhere in or around my house. And my house is small, so I only knew the noise was coming from the side I was on...plus it was windy outside so I thought it might be a tree branch on the siding. But anyone who's ever had a critter in their house knows the unmistakable sound of...well, having a critter in your house. I crept into the kitchen to get a better idea of where it was coming from. Eased over to the kitchen door and waited to hear it again, but what I heard wasn't coming from outside, or even above me...it was scratching and scuttling around closer to...or perhaps even in...my oven? Well, I knew it couldn't actually be IN the oven, but it sure sounded like it was very very close to being in the oven. Then I heard a little clang and deducted it could be in the drawer under my oven. Now, I'm not an easily scared person when it comes to rodents so at first I was just a tad annoyed, but THEN I could hear it breathing. Yes! Breathing! Sniffing around like a doggie on the trail of something good....and quite frankly that's what it took to freak me out. Being after 11pm at that point I knew better than to think my neighbors would be up, or that they wouldn't panic if they got a call from me so late....so I sent a message to the only person I knew could help....too bad he lives 300+ miles away.
Instructions were to open the oven and let my cat do the work. Buuuuuut unfortunately my cat is also far away in South Carolina staying with her uncle Stefan until I'm settled into an apartment on the island. It is just little old me in the house for now, so that plan, while good, couldn't work. As the noises continued I began visualizing the Christmas tree scene from the Griswalds movie...me opening the oven drawer, squirrel leaping out and attacking my face...a fire starting somewhere...a toupee flying by...you know, carnage. I decided a non-confrontational approach was best, so the next set of instructions I got were to go into my bedroom, stuff a towel under the door and try to forget about it until morning. That sounded pretty darn good to me, so that's what I did. One towel, a dirty t-shirt and a moving box full of books were promptly used as a rodent barricade. I drifted off to sleep around 1am after flipping through the latest Coastal Living and a brief convo with RR while he corralled hound dogs at the house he's staying in for the weekend and settled in himself...thinking this is the only time in my life I'll wish I had his cat Almost in the same house as me.
This morning the sun was trying it's best to get through the closed curtains in my bedroom and I sunk further under the comforter...the house was chilly and quiet, no scampering, scuttling or scratching...and especially no heavy rodent breathing. I stretched out my feet to the bottom of the bed and in my grogginess thought I was pushing my foot up against my cat who usually sleeps on the bed with me. And after a few more seconds I remembered my cat wasn't here.
You know that feeling you get sometimes....that nasty insta-surge of adrenaline that's almost painful? Like when you're driving and it's been a little too long since you took a break from the pavement and your eyes do that crossing thing like you're about to dose off, then it scares you awake with that feeling; Or if you've ever almost been hit by another car...or if you almost lose your grip while bouldering...or if you hit an unexpected root on a really fast decent on a mtb trail...or if you almost trip and fall while walking in public.....OK....that was the feeling I got bright and early this morning that woke me directly from a very warm and comfortable dozing spell. Then I was afraid to move...evidently whatever it was last night had gotten out of the oven, found my room, infiltrated my barricade and gotten up on the bed with me--and whatever it was, I had just nudged it with my foot...what if I woke it up? Surely after nearly kicking it, it was only a matter of time before I was attacked....
But the attack never came, thankfully. And eventually I gathered the nerve to peek out over the covers and discover the two magazines I had left at the foot of the bed the night before.
Ah...such is life.
I debated all day yesterday on whether to leave for Newnan then or wait until today. And eventually I decided I needed to hit the road, so I left their house around 9pm. That put me home around 10, and I unloaded the car, searched for some paperwork I needed to mail today and plopped down at the computer to check email and whatnot.
About that time I heard a noise. Shuffling and bonking around somewhere in or around my house. And my house is small, so I only knew the noise was coming from the side I was on...plus it was windy outside so I thought it might be a tree branch on the siding. But anyone who's ever had a critter in their house knows the unmistakable sound of...well, having a critter in your house. I crept into the kitchen to get a better idea of where it was coming from. Eased over to the kitchen door and waited to hear it again, but what I heard wasn't coming from outside, or even above me...it was scratching and scuttling around closer to...or perhaps even in...my oven? Well, I knew it couldn't actually be IN the oven, but it sure sounded like it was very very close to being in the oven. Then I heard a little clang and deducted it could be in the drawer under my oven. Now, I'm not an easily scared person when it comes to rodents so at first I was just a tad annoyed, but THEN I could hear it breathing. Yes! Breathing! Sniffing around like a doggie on the trail of something good....and quite frankly that's what it took to freak me out. Being after 11pm at that point I knew better than to think my neighbors would be up, or that they wouldn't panic if they got a call from me so late....so I sent a message to the only person I knew could help....too bad he lives 300+ miles away.
Instructions were to open the oven and let my cat do the work. Buuuuuut unfortunately my cat is also far away in South Carolina staying with her uncle Stefan until I'm settled into an apartment on the island. It is just little old me in the house for now, so that plan, while good, couldn't work. As the noises continued I began visualizing the Christmas tree scene from the Griswalds movie...me opening the oven drawer, squirrel leaping out and attacking my face...a fire starting somewhere...a toupee flying by...you know, carnage. I decided a non-confrontational approach was best, so the next set of instructions I got were to go into my bedroom, stuff a towel under the door and try to forget about it until morning. That sounded pretty darn good to me, so that's what I did. One towel, a dirty t-shirt and a moving box full of books were promptly used as a rodent barricade. I drifted off to sleep around 1am after flipping through the latest Coastal Living and a brief convo with RR while he corralled hound dogs at the house he's staying in for the weekend and settled in himself...thinking this is the only time in my life I'll wish I had his cat Almost in the same house as me.
This morning the sun was trying it's best to get through the closed curtains in my bedroom and I sunk further under the comforter...the house was chilly and quiet, no scampering, scuttling or scratching...and especially no heavy rodent breathing. I stretched out my feet to the bottom of the bed and in my grogginess thought I was pushing my foot up against my cat who usually sleeps on the bed with me. And after a few more seconds I remembered my cat wasn't here.
You know that feeling you get sometimes....that nasty insta-surge of adrenaline that's almost painful? Like when you're driving and it's been a little too long since you took a break from the pavement and your eyes do that crossing thing like you're about to dose off, then it scares you awake with that feeling; Or if you've ever almost been hit by another car...or if you almost lose your grip while bouldering...or if you hit an unexpected root on a really fast decent on a mtb trail...or if you almost trip and fall while walking in public.....OK....that was the feeling I got bright and early this morning that woke me directly from a very warm and comfortable dozing spell. Then I was afraid to move...evidently whatever it was last night had gotten out of the oven, found my room, infiltrated my barricade and gotten up on the bed with me--and whatever it was, I had just nudged it with my foot...what if I woke it up? Surely after nearly kicking it, it was only a matter of time before I was attacked....
But the attack never came, thankfully. And eventually I gathered the nerve to peek out over the covers and discover the two magazines I had left at the foot of the bed the night before.
Ah...such is life.
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