Embrace The Suck

" I always wanted to be Peter Pan, the boy who never grows up. I can't fly, but swimming is the next best thing. It's harmony and balance. The water is my sky. " Clayton Jones I saw many pretty things on our vacation. (I'm still thinking about the small sunny yellow Fiesta ware pitcher that I couldn't rationalize spending $50. on.) I also saw something that was not so pretty. Me. Naked. Yikes! The bathroom in our Savannah hotel was quite spacious. The vanity was extra large with plenty of space for a coffee pot, ice bucket, shaving kit, and my uber-sized bag of toiletries. Naturally a vanity this size calls for a mirror that takes up most of the wall. This wouldn't be so bad except that it was directly across from the shower. [Note to self: if I'm ever in charge of hotel bathroom decor install smaller mirrors and lower watt light bulbs.] After taking a long luxurious shower to rejuvenate myself after walking around Savannah, I threw back the curtai

"When you're safe at home you wish you were having an adventure; when you're having an adventure you wish you were safe at home." Thorton Wilder Upon leaving Charleston we had a bit of a debate about heading straight home or going a little out of the way to see Beaufort, SC. The only thing I know about Beaufort is that this is where The Big Chill and the Great Santini were filmed. It was hard for me to pass up a chance to see and take a picture of this house but I left the decision up to Sweetie the driver, who was beginning to look a bit weary. [The Big Chill House as seen through the locked "Private Property" gate.] One of the reasons I call him Sweetie is that my love seems to read between my unspoken lines and decide what I would decide if I wasn't so indecisive! Beaufort was quite a place. It oozed southern, charm. The houses were huge and to die for. Think big! Think, two or three story with shuttered windows, great big porches, moss covered oak t

And just like that the rain stopped, the sun came out and the skies turned blue. Sweetie and I headed back to town, still not sure of what we wanted to do - ride in a horse drawn carriage, visit the Charleston Museum, or explore the aquarium. Whatever we chose, Sweetie was clear he did not want it to include a lot of walking. Old cobblestones and old hips are not a good match. We stopped at the Visitor's Center so I could buy some postcards. Sweetie signed us up for a deal that proved to be too good to be true. What sounded like an easy way to garner a hundred dollar visa card was really an attempt to sell us a time share. Oh well, I found the shea butter man at the market, and grabbed a few more souvenirs. Next we headed to Queen Anne's Revenge, a restaurant on Daniel Island that Sorrow recommended. "Oh, it's easy to get there," said the time share pimp. "Just get on 526 and cross the bridge, you can't miss it." Well, that sounded easy enough, excep

Rain, rain go away... ...or not. We may have missed our window of opportunity to see more of Charleston before a storm blew in. Sweetie slept in while I ate breakfast which is the total opposite of what we usually do. I was headed for my camera to try to capture some of the moss covered trees when the rain began to fall. Our hostess says this is a light rain so there's not a problem driving into town. Heavy rains, she adds, cause the streets to flood. Begging the question, how do people maneuver the water filled roads? Thinking we'd brave the rain - what's a little water when you're on vacation - we headed for the car and the road that is something out of a scary movie on a good day. We stopped at the porch steps to rethink this plan. Do I really need the $25.00 jar of lavender scented shea butter I promised the man I'd be back for today? Did Sweetie really want to test his driving skills on a curvy lane where the speed limit is 35 MPH but everyone drives at least 4

[A friend told me once he believed the Camellia to be the most beautiful flower God created. I think he may be right.] There is much to see and do in Charleston, or so I'm told. There are also more people, more cars and less parking places than Savannah. I have no sense of quaint or historic, though Charleston may have been that in its heyday. I'm guessing, it's always been a robust place of commerce - the Custom House sits near the river looking stately and authoritative. I wonder, was that the first thing the slaves saw as they were herded off the ships and into the market. The market today is several blocks long. What I expected to be filled with Charlestonian arts and crafts was actually arrayed with an eclectic selection of goods from all over the world. Yes there were black ladies making and selling sea grass baskets. I asked one woman how many baskets she had made and she just laughed. "I never thought to count them," she said, "but I can tell you it

"May you experience each day as a sacred gift woven around the heart of wonder." John O'Donohue Let it not be said that we left Savannah without strolling down River Street like the true tourists we are. There were postcards and T-shirts and souvenirs yet to buy! It was a cool day and being near the river made it even chillier. Not cold. Just the right temperature for wrapping up in my new Pashima stole - at 50% off I couldn't resist. I channeled my inner Po [36500 words] to attempt to take some bird pictures. The winged beauties in question seemed to pose and wait for me to do my thing. [I t seemed a little weird to me that this bird let me get so close to him. Now I see that his eyes were closed! Obviously he'd had his picture taken more than once and was no longer camera shy.] [What you don't see in this picture is the entrance to the candy store. Once I put my camera away this bird headed straight for the door. The smell of chocolate covered pecans was too

Drove around squircles looking for a parking place [Square + Circle = Squircle] Tripped on uneven brick sidewalks Sat on park benches Toured the railroad museum Drooled over old Fiesta ware dishes Discovered a hole in the wall sandwich shop [marinated chicken sandwich - ooh lala!] Drove around Christ Episcopal Church 3 times before realizing we were looking right at it Took a delicious nap Ate dinner at the Pirate House Long day, beautiful day with my Sweetie

Sweetie decided I needed a change of scenery to brighten my mood and, hopefully, dry up my tear ducts. We discussed heading to points south, i.e. Disney World, Lake Wales, and Sanibel Island. We considered points west, like Tallahassee, Pensacola and Ft. Walton beach. We settled on points North - Savannah and Charleston to be exact. A little to Sweetie's dismay we got a later start than he had planned. In my defense, anyone who plans on leaving for vacation at 9am is asking to be a little disgruntled. Don't vacations, by law, begin sometime after 10am? We kind of took the long way to Savannah. We headed west, then north, on some back Georgia roads, a route Sweetie used to take when he was stationed at Ft. Stewart. Then we turned back towards the ocean and headed east on I95. I must say there is a world of difference between the interstate and two lane highways. I think I prefer the latter. If I'd been thinking, I'd have started counting BBQ places in Callahan the home o

If you've ever experienced the loss of a loved one you've also experienced the different stages of grief, even if you can't name them. Grief is like one of those giant wrecking balls they use to knock down buildings. When it hits you feel yourself crumbling and are powerless to stop it. Something new and more beautiful may grow up in its place but right now you're surrounded by a dust cloud of hurt. Shortly after my mother died, I experienced what I call the Grocery Store Effect. I say grocery store because that is where it happened for me. It could just as easily occur in Target or Home Depot, perhaps even driving your car. I'd forgotten about the Grocery Store Effect until recently. After my father's funeral was over, the casserole dishes were returned, friends had gone back to work and the world reminded me that in the big scheme of things my loss was nothing more than a speck of sand on the beach of life, I realized the time had come for me to get back t

"Why does my heart go on beating? Why do these eyes of mine cry? Don't they know it's the end of the world ... It ended when you said goodbye." Skeeter Davis - End of the World Back before I even knew what love was all about and didn't have a clue about love gone wrong, I used to drown my rather dramatic and angst-ridden pre -teen romantic failures with songs like "... it's the end of the world." I'd turn up the transistor radio and wail along with Skeeter Davis, Johnny Mathis and Leslie Gore. What I knew then about the end of the world was anyone's guess. Still the words hit a chord with me, touched my heart o n a soul level. Could I have been, even then, preparing myself for the myriad of goodbyes I would say in my lifetime? A few days ago I mentioned to one of my friends/mentors/ go-to persons that I don't know how to get started again, that my mind says move but my body/spirit are kind of paralyzed. She replied: " I'd start