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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