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It’s been a while since I saw “the boat.” The Hubster has this sailboat that he’s renovating at a dock down in Mount Pleasant. Selkie is her name-o. (Selkie: Something about a seal and a beautiful woman, a water legend. Anyway, it’s a broke boat with a weird name.)
At first the boat was anchored out in the creek and every now and again, we’d get in his little dinghy and motor out to it, spend the night, cook a little dinner, wake up to birds and breakfast and enjoy the heck out of it. Beautiful surroundings, fresh air, interesting folks down on the docks.
At first the boat was anchored out in the creek and every now and again, we’d get in his little dinghy and motor out to it, spend the night, cook a little dinner, wake up to birds and breakfast and enjoy the heck out of it. Beautiful surroundings, fresh air, interesting folks down on the docks.
You hear about people ‘going green’ more and more these days.
Another PC term for it is called ‘downsizing.’
Another PC term for it is called ‘downsizing.’
Yes, that’s right, you did not misread the title of this column. I … am Superman.
I am the Man of Steel.
I am the Man of Steel.
For a couple of months now, we have been collecting school supplies for Bob Dunleavy, a Lowcountry resident deployed to Iraq. He wrote to Publisher Ellen Priest about the children and schools that had no supplies.
We offered to help, to get the word out to our readers.
We offered to help, to get the word out to our readers.
We spent Friday and Saturday on Kiawah with the Hubster’s brother and sister-in-law.
A fair amount of time we watched for the resident gator that lolls around on the edge of their yard when she crawls out of their pond. They call her Beulah. Sis-in-law law was gardening a few days ago and was scared very nearly out of her wits when Beulah roared. She described it as a really strong vibration that she (sis, not Beulah) felt as much as she heard it. “It sounded like a lion,” she said. (I’m not at all sure I knew that alligators roared.)
A fair amount of time we watched for the resident gator that lolls around on the edge of their yard when she crawls out of their pond. They call her Beulah. Sis-in-law law was gardening a few days ago and was scared very nearly out of her wits when Beulah roared. She described it as a really strong vibration that she (sis, not Beulah) felt as much as she heard it. “It sounded like a lion,” she said. (I’m not at all sure I knew that alligators roared.)
I am a baseball fan.
Before I ever became a baseball player, I was a baseball fan. In fact, I probably became a baseball player because I was a baseball fan.
Before I ever became a baseball player, I was a baseball fan. In fact, I probably became a baseball player because I was a baseball fan.
I’ve not had the fun of shopping for prom dresses since I bought my own – we’ll just say it was a long while back.
Our all-boy offspring contingent didn’t exactly go nuts over getting together an ensemble for prom. So I missed out on the full prom experience – not that I don’t love being mom to my guys. But girls they aren’t. So when my sister asked if she and her daughter could come down from Rock Hill to shop, I said yes. Sounded like a prissy, girlie weekend.
Our all-boy offspring contingent didn’t exactly go nuts over getting together an ensemble for prom. So I missed out on the full prom experience – not that I don’t love being mom to my guys. But girls they aren’t. So when my sister asked if she and her daughter could come down from Rock Hill to shop, I said yes. Sounded like a prissy, girlie weekend.
Heee’s baaaaacck. In my house. Again. Manchild #2 has been gone for exactly six months. All the way to North Chuck in the Up Chuck region near Trident Tech.
While he was gone I repainted his room, I installed real nice bronze switch plates on the outlets, I bought stacks of hardwood to install after the removal of the aging carpet. The wood now sits forlornly in the garage, ready for me to put it in its proper place. Instead of new flooring the room is now filled with a bed, chair, a couple of tables, suitcases, clothes bags and our youngest, the aforementioned Manchild #2.
While he was gone I repainted his room, I installed real nice bronze switch plates on the outlets, I bought stacks of hardwood to install after the removal of the aging carpet. The wood now sits forlornly in the garage, ready for me to put it in its proper place. Instead of new flooring the room is now filled with a bed, chair, a couple of tables, suitcases, clothes bags and our youngest, the aforementioned Manchild #2.
I didn’t used to be a fat guy. I used to be skinny.
I’m fat because I don’t get around as much as I used to; I’m 50 and feel I’ve earned the right to live a sedentary lifestyle. I also love to eat.
I’m fat because I don’t get around as much as I used to; I’m 50 and feel I’ve earned the right to live a sedentary lifestyle. I also love to eat.
My sister bought a house (yes, she’s the one person who bought a house this year ) and is having some repairs and renovations done. Last week the work turned to the master bathroom that is upstairs and located directly over the family room.
The need for repair became evident the week she moved in. She’d been about to take a shower, turned the water on and stepped into the stall. She was happily showering away in her wonderful new house when she heard a banging on the door and the screams of her 13-year-old son Alex.
The need for repair became evident the week she moved in. She’d been about to take a shower, turned the water on and stepped into the stall. She was happily showering away in her wonderful new house when she heard a banging on the door and the screams of her 13-year-old son Alex.
I am a terrible patient. I have no tolerance for being sick because in my world, I simply do not have time for such nonsense.
This approach has not always served me well. It has caused me to hemorrhage after a biopsy, sending me to the emergency room for stitches. It has caused me to muddle through a case of mononucleosis at the ripe age of 35 – way past the age of contracting such a thing – without missing a day of work, when others would be out with a headache or a sore throat. It has also caused me to hemorrhage again after a major operation, spilling two pints of my precious blood supply before the doctor plopped my stubborn self in a hospital bed for three days.
This approach has not always served me well. It has caused me to hemorrhage after a biopsy, sending me to the emergency room for stitches. It has caused me to muddle through a case of mononucleosis at the ripe age of 35 – way past the age of contracting such a thing – without missing a day of work, when others would be out with a headache or a sore throat. It has also caused me to hemorrhage again after a major operation, spilling two pints of my precious blood supply before the doctor plopped my stubborn self in a hospital bed for three days.
A couple of months ago, Manchild #2 came home to request that I “give him one of my dogs.” At the time, I was so dumfounded by the request, that I said “yes” without thinking very much about. (It’s part of that trying to do what you can do to help out the kids.)
Later, after I did give it a good think, I decided I would’ve said “yes” anyway.
Later, after I did give it a good think, I decided I would’ve said “yes” anyway.
Last week I watched as Roger Clemens, one of baseball’s most impressive and talented pitchers, was mauled by accusations of steroid abuse during his long career.
Congressmen Henry Waxman of California and Elijah Cummings of Maryland double-teamed Clemens early. Despite fan sympathy and the rather creepy demeanor of former trainer Brian McNamee, Clemens was forced to take it on the chin and was left almost speechless.
Congressmen Henry Waxman of California and Elijah Cummings of Maryland double-teamed Clemens early. Despite fan sympathy and the rather creepy demeanor of former trainer Brian McNamee, Clemens was forced to take it on the chin and was left almost speechless.
A few months ago I wrote about the Hubster and the limb hanging like the Sword of Damocles from a really tall pine tree in our backyard. He spent an entire weekend trying to get this gigantic, pendulous limb down with an odd combination of sports equipment. His quest was unsuccessful and I was regretting bringing the limb to his attention in the first place.
Since that weekend, every time a storm has passed by, he has run outside afterwards to assess whether the wind blew down “the limb.” No amount of wind has brought it down.
Since that weekend, every time a storm has passed by, he has run outside afterwards to assess whether the wind blew down “the limb.” No amount of wind has brought it down.
It’s been about 15 years since my guy and I decided to join the Western dance craze. It was fun. We ran into folks we knew, everybody was dancing and having a good time and feeling good about the sheer exercise benefit of the whole scene.
We went so far as to buy really good cowboy boots. The real ones, with steel shanks, high arches, good leather. And we danced our way through the early to mid-90s. But the craze began to wane a little as some of the clubs closed. (We used to joke that the clubs couldn’t really continue to stay in business because nobody could drink and do the intricate little dances. We, and most of the people we knew, were drinking mostly water, or occasionally going nuts with a ginger ale.)
We went so far as to buy really good cowboy boots. The real ones, with steel shanks, high arches, good leather. And we danced our way through the early to mid-90s. But the craze began to wane a little as some of the clubs closed. (We used to joke that the clubs couldn’t really continue to stay in business because nobody could drink and do the intricate little dances. We, and most of the people we knew, were drinking mostly water, or occasionally going nuts with a ginger ale.)