Tag Archives: Travel

converging on each other…

Posted on by under America, Food, Friends, Memories, Nature, Photos, Travel

It was about six or seven years ago, during one memorable Charleston trip, that we christened our friend Drew with the title, The Lurker. One of the original photo-bombers, somehow, he would just end up in the background of most of our photos. Eventually, we had him “lurk” there on purpose. Over the years, the nickname has lingered, and he still has a talent for silently walking up behind people, or appearing in pictures he wasn’t intended for. It’s a talent that most of us don’t have.DSC_0257

Of course, I wasn’t thinking about this, when I left Clemson. I hit the road at 8 am, and was half an hour past Greenville, enjoying my music, when I noticed a truck starting to pass me. Well, I thought it was. I glanced to my left, looked away, and then looked back again, slightly startled. Sure enough, Drew was looking determinedly at me, from the passenger seat of that truck. I promptly grabbed my phone, to tell my two best friends that “Drew’s lurking at me… from Tom’s truck!”. They thought that was funny, because he had come up in conversation, so technically, he was lurking in the conversation, too. Such talent.DSC_0258

DSC_0260Yes, my girls from Pennsylvania were on their way south. When I lived there, we would drive to Seabrook Island, together, all 10-13 hours of it, depending on traffic. Now, they have to make it on their own. This time, they drove down early, stayed overnight in Charlotte, and were on target to meet me in Summerville at noon. From there, we would leave my car at a friend’s, and travel to Charleston and Seabrook, together. After a year in Australia, I still don’t think we’ve caught up on talking, in our handful of visits, since I returned.DSC_0265

Within half an hour of my destination, I was entertained to see “The Ark” go rolling down the highway, next to me. That was the first time I pulled out my camera and I took it with me everywhere, for the rest of the weekend.DSC_0275

We stopped for lunch at Tbonz, near the Market. Just now, when I finally looked at my picture of the menu again, I thought the menu had been misspelled. Turns out, I never knew that Tbonz’ full name was Tbonz Gill & Grill. For a minute there, I was worried. Spelling mistakes should NOT be in your menu, that’s for sure. Their sweet potato fries were awesome, but don’t order the she-crab soup. Not a winner.DSC_0277

After wandering the whole Market, we crossed the street to look inside of Charleston’s Candy Kitchen. Located on the corner of North Market Street and East Bay, I had never noticed it there, before. Usually, when we cross the streets, outside the Market, we’re further down, and don’t notice what’s up on the corner. As you can see, this is one of the places where you gain weight by looking…. or breathing in the scent of chocolate.DSC_0278

DSC_0283My only purchase was a stick of rock candy. Ah, the memories that come with those treats. Not all good, of course. The main one was from going to Charleston on a school trip, and staying overnight on the U.S.S. Yorktown. We also did the Fort Sumter tour, and I bought some rock candy for that trip. Promptly chipped a tooth that I had just had fixed. Or maybe that was the first chip. I had to have that tooth fixed three times within two weeks, because it just wouldn’t stay fixed. But at the age of 10 or 11, I was horrified by the mishap.DSC_0285

While walking past the U.S. Custom House, on the way to the parking garage, I took another look, and really liked the design on the top of the columns. Don’t you?DSC_0289

After climbing all the stairs to the roof of the parking garage, and making our way back to the car, I was in the driver’s seat again. Charleston isn’t my favorite place to drive, but I am much more used to city driving than my friends, so I always volunteer for this part of things. If my directional sense goes wrong, we get the GPS out. But that always ends interestingly, because I don’t always listen properly to that little voice.DSC_0296

So, last time we used it in Charleston, we almost got seriously lost, trying to follow the directions “Jane” gave us. I’m much better off using my own judgment, and not worrying too much. Charleston is on a peninsula, and sooner or later, you reach the waterfront, and/or come to a bridge. I generally know which direction I should be going, even if I don’t remember the street names.DSC_0301

Having eaten lunch rather late, we skipped the dinner get-together, and went straight to Freshfields Village, at the roundabout in front of Kioway and Seabrook Islands. Goodness, I still remember back before they built that place. And before they built the big bridge on Main Rd. There used to be a “spinning bridge”, instead of a regular draw bridge, and it was a pain, if you got stuck on the road, when the bridge was being “spun” to let boats through.DSC_0303DSC_0304

Instead of dinner, we went to the Marble Slab Creamery, and hemmed and hawed over our choices. I finally decided on Amaretto ice cream, with chocolate chip cookie dough mixed in. The guy working there thought this sounded wonderful, and said he’d have to try it. From there, while I was paying for my ice cream, he asked where we were from, and when I told him Clemson, he said “That’s where I go to school!”.DSC_0306

Turns out, not only that, he’s an engineering student and comes into my cafe regularly. When I informed him that I was the cashier, he KNEW that I had looked familiar. But who really would have thought you’d find your Clemson cashier at an ice cream join, near Seabrook Island? He never “woulda-thunk-it”. He wouldn’t know that I’m at Seabrook, twice a year, every year since 1998.DSC_0308

After all the ice cream was devoured, we headed onto the island, driving “gently” as we went. Yes, the signs really do tell you to drive gently. And after the gatehouse, you HAVE to follow the speed limit (25 mph), or risk getting pulled over by a golf cart, if you go more than 3 miles over the limit. I kid you not. It happened to a friend, about ten years ago, and he still hasn’t lived it down. Most of our group have forgotten how Kelvin drove his motorcycle to Seabrook, only to find that motorcycles weren’t allowed on the island. So, he had to wait for someone to give him a ride to camp. But Gary has never lived down getting a ticket from a golf cart.DSC_0310

Arrival involves much unloading of cars, running and hugging all the arrivals, and lots of general excitement. For me, it used to involve running up and down the boardwalk in my flip-flops (I only fell once), but a foot injury wasn’t allowing that, this time. It was a beautiful evening, with a gorgeous sunset. And even the deer are somewhat friendly. Or at least, unafraid of humans. I got quite close to this one, to take these pictures. But I didn’t go too close, I was afraid the deer would panic and run me over. That’s something that I would never live down.DSC_0315

People still don’t quite believe the story about Kelvin and I finding a deer head washed up on the beach, so many years ago. Aside from us, there were no witnesses to the event. Unlike when the plane landed on the beach, or the large turtle washed up after a boat collision. But if I got run over by a deer, there would have been multiple witnesses, as everyone was on the boardwalk, in the snack shack, or in the gazebo. So, I behaved myself, and so did the deer.DSC_0326

I know, I know, I’m just getting started. But I took a lot of pictures, so this will get things going. Stay with me, I’m catching up!DSC_0327

i’m at seabrook…

Posted on by under America, Friends, Travel

As you read this, on a (hopefully) sunny morning, wherever you are, I’m probably eating a splendid breakfast in the camp dining hall. Not just any dining hall, because this camp & conference center has a CHEF. If I’m not eating scrambled eggs, grits, or French toast, I might be wading in the ocean, before heading to the morning meeting. You never know. Depends on what time you’re reading this. DSC_0247

If I’m on the beach, maybe there will be dolphins close enough to shore that I could get some good pictures of them. Someday, I’m going to get a longer zoom lens for my Nikon, so I can get closeups of dolphins in and pelicans on the water. DSC_0301

When I’m in the chapel, I will be sitting with some of my best friends in the world, singing our hearts out, before the meeting begins. The weather is supposed to be HOT, so we’ll probably have the air conditioning blasting inside, requiring all the girls to bring jackets or pashmina scarves to wrap up in. DSC_0336

If you’re reading this on Saturday afternoon, I am definitely running around on the beach, in my water shoes, throwing a frisbee. Or playing volleyball, and picking the sand spurs out of the ball, every time it gets hit into the weeds. Or swimming in the ocean, because the weather is supposed to be glorious! And not wearing sunscreen, because I never do.DSC_0349

And if you’re reading this late in the evening, I will be sitting on the bleachers, by the campfire, playing my guitar. The stars will be shining over our heads, and hopefully, there won’t be any clouds for them to hide behind. We’ll go beachwalking, argue over the constellations, and jump up and down like little kids, when we see a shooting star. I always seem to miss them, because I’m never looking in the right direction.DSC_0415

I wish you could all be here, so since you can’t, you have something to look forward to, when I return. I’ll have pictures and a story or two to tell! Oh, and before someone gets after me, I wrote this on Thursday, and I definitely screwed up all my tenses. I’m pretty sure I went back and forth between past, present, and future, but I’m not going to try and correct myself anymore. Grammar-phobes, beware!DSC_0480

words before photos…

Posted on by under Blogging, Memories, Thoughts, Writing

You’ve heard this complaint before, but my photos sometimes get in my way. I am a writer first, and a photographer… somewhere about fifth. Ok, maybe it’s third or fourth, by now. My photos have come a long way since I was a teenager. And then, they’ve probably come just as far, in the last two years alone.

But like I said, I’m a writer first. If I’ve never written a book, how was I a writer, before I started this blog? Well, I’m not even talking about the stories I’ve started, over the years, and never finished. I’m talking about the art of letter-writing. Have you heard of it?

The internet only arrived at our house when I was about fifteen (1995), and my older brother started college. We somehow wired his school e-mail to come to our house, and then I was able to write short e-mails to my one cousin who also had e-mail. It was the DOS screen type, black screen and white letters, and you could only write a letter as long as the screen, no scrolling down. If you had more to write, you had to start a new letter, and heaven forbid anyone pick up the telephone. If they picked up the phone, you lost your e-mail, unable to copy and paste it again. Had to start over, completely. Oh, the wails that ensued, when someone touched that phone.

I’m talking about even further back, though, when I actually wrote letters to my friends. You see, even though I had friends in school, my closest friends were always my cousins, who lived in faraway states like Michigan and Massachusetts. Long-distance telephone calls were expensive and nearly unheard of for kids my age, so letters were the only option. And didn’t we keep the mailman busy!

In high school, I learned how to type, and for only getting half a semester in the subject, I learned quickly. The class ended before I could get very good with numbers, but aside from that, I’ve always been able to type almost 100 wpm. In fact, that’s almost as fast as I can think.

When you’re maintaining close friendships through letters and long e-mails, you don’t have someone there with you, telling you when to stop. You go through their letters, make sure you address every topic, in detail, because who knows when they will have time to reply, and you want them to respond in kind. I lived for my letters, over the years.

What does this have to do with being a writer? Well, here on my blog, my aim is usually to tell a story, whether I use pictures or words. What are you doing, when you write letters to close friends, if not telling them the daily story of your life? You’re trying to make them see, hear, and almost touch what you are living through. And when it’s between close friends, you are being honest, and not even avoiding the harsh details of your life.

Eventually, my letter-writing translated into e-mail and Facebook form. When I went to Indonesia in 1999 (or somewhere around there), I wrote e-mails to my mom (and forwarded to several other people), every day, so she would know what my time there was like. Those letters were also forwarded to my own e-mail, so I still have the descriptions from that month, full of as much detail as I could squeeze in. I also took a large number of photos, and they’re in a box somewhere, waiting to be transferred to CD. Someday.

When I went to Ireland, for a two-week mission trip, in 1999, I didn’t have computer access. So, I used the method that I continue to use when I can’t write regular e-mails, I keep an old-fashioned journal. Nowadays, I write them in shorthand, but then, I wrote them in detail. Every night, I documented our day, so that I would be able to type it up and immortalize it, afterwards. And since I was afraid my camera might get stolen, I took a handful of disposable cameras with me, to capture what Ireland and London (we were there for a day) looked like. Those pictures are in a box somewhere, too.

Some of these journals were typed up, afterwards, and sent to people in letter form. Others were posted in Notes, on Facebook. This was long before my blog ever existed, but I still wanted my friends and family to know what these places were really like, and what adventures I had.

The most recent version of the journal-to-blog posts would be from my cruise to the Bahamas, and my week in Sydney. After writing a shorthand version of my days on the cruise ship, I condensed it into a short blog post, some time after I began my blog. Probably when I was feeling jealous of my Aussie friend’s cruise in the Pacific, to Vanuatu, and islands like that. My week in Sydney, of course, was journaled straight onto my computer, with my photos all pre-edited, just waiting for me to get back to Emerald, and an internet connection. It was basically blogging without access to a blog.

Every time I have written up a trip or an experience, you’ll find mentions of me using my camera, but that was never the most important thing. You can look at an album of photos and have no idea what you’re looking at, or what funny little incidences happened with each. I have always wanted to have people see the adventure from my WORDS, and then fill in the blanks with the pictures, afterwards.

Which brings me back to my original complaint, which I probably shouldn’t be complaining about. I still love to take photos, but occasionally, I take so many of them, that I feel required to catch up on posts full of photos, when I really want to do something that’s much more writing-oriented. It ends up feeling like the photos forced my hand, whereas I want the writing to force the photos. Or something like that.

But I’m trying to catch up. A friend wished me a happy weekend, and hoped that I would get out and take some photos. I said, “Noooo, I have too many of them, I need to catch up.”, which probably sounded slightly odd to her. But it makes sense to me. And with my latest post about Tillman Hall, I feel that I’m finally catching up with some of my previous pictures, with my post on Sirrine Hall to follow, soon after.

When that’s done, I can go back to letting the words take me where they will… and the photos will follow, as a side dish. A more pleasing side dish than they ever were, when I was a teenager, but still, not the main course for this blog.

a charleston reconnaissance… waterfront park

Posted on by under America, Friends, History, Memories, Photos

During our time in Charleston, I had a strange obsession with the cobblestone streets and the stone sidewalks. Probably because I kept tripping on the uneven sidewalks, and then the cobbles were beautiful, but uncomfortable to walk on for any period of time. And I wasn’t even wearing flip-flops! I am not normally this clumsy, but when you’re looking for the next photo opportunity, you just don’t watch where you’re putting your feet, and then having trippy walkways just isn’t fair.DSC_0616

DSC_0613The cobblestone roads are a well-known feature of the backstreets by the waterfront, and I always drive over them to reach our usual parking garage. And then, Waterfront Park is only one block away. Built in the late 1980′s, its completion date was slightly after Hurricane Hugo hit Charleston, but it sounds like they still managed to open on time, even with the hurricane damage.DSC_0614

DSC_0617Some of my first Charleston memories involved driving a friend down for the Cooper River Bridge Run and staying overnight in a hotel. That weekend, one friend got a ticket for not using her blinker when she changed lanes twice in a row (the cops were out in force, that weekend), and getting pulled over by that cop scared the daylights out of us. I think I was eighteen, at the time (before anyone asks, there was no alcohol involved on this weekend, because my friends and I don’t drink). DSC_0628

That same weekend, I let my friends cut and layer my hair, in the hotel bathroom, and they actually did a pretty good job. It only took them several hours, though. And that was probably the first time I ever let my friends put makeup on me, and they did a nice job of that, too. My parents still have  a picture, taken in front of the Pineapple Fountain, from the next day, with haircut and makeup.DSC_0629

When my mom and I reached Waterfront Park, I stopped to look at a small amphitheater looking area, which I’ve seen before, but never stopped to examine closely. There were no signs explaining its purpose. Did people give speeches and impromptu Shakespeare performances from the big granite circle? I climbed up to take a look, and let my mom take some pictures. But while I was hollering directions at her, concerning the camera, I realized my voice was amplified once I stood in the center square. Or at least, it sounded like it was.DSC_0633

Mom said my voice went down in volume, after that, but it might have been because I thought I was shouting. Surely, it was actually amplifying my voice, so that anyone nearby would be able to hear it easily? I’ve looked online, and can’t find anything about it. I hopped down to let my mom come up and try, and she was surprised by the effect, as well. Maybe someone who knows about amphitheaters and acoustics could explain it to me. It was quite intriguing.DSC_0637

We took a break on the lovely benches facing Charleston Harbor. From there, you can see the U.S.S. Yorktown, which now houses the Medal of Honor museum, as well as a whole museum of old-school airplanes. I’ve toured the ship several times in recent years, one memorable visit right after I had injured both knees, and then had to climb numerous steep stairs on board the ship.DSC_0639

But when I was in elementary school, we went on an overnight trip to Charleston, and slept on the Yorktown.  I wonder if schools can still do this? I remember sleeping in the triple or quadruple high bunk beds, which hang on chains. And during the night, we heard a loud crash from above us, which was one of the boys falling off the very top bunk. Ouch.DSC_0638

Also, from the Waterfront Park benches, you can see the rest of Patriot’s Point (where the Yorktown is located), the new Cooper River Bridge, and even, Fort Sumter in the distance. Over the years, we’ve walked the new bridge, seen all the other ships and submarines at Patriot’s Point, and toured Fort Sumter many times. With my ever-growing interest in photography, I’d be interested to see them all again, to see if there’s anything new that I haven’t photographed before.  : )DSC_0640

DSC_0641Even the marshy area by the pier, with the marsh grasses, has memories for me. One year, there were so many of us visiting the area, that we got divided into two groups, accidentally. My cousin was in the group that was throwing a frisbee back and forth on the waterfront, and it went over the railing into the marshy area, at low tide. She climbed over the railing (I’ve seen the pictures), dropped into the muck while wearing her flip-flops, retrieved the frisbee, and then had to be hauled back up by the guys. I wish I could’ve actually seen it happen.DSC_0642

After a decent break, we walked over to the Pineapple Fountain, which is always visually stunning, in person, and in pictures. Another incident that I missed, one year, was a guy friend of mine deciding to climb it, while still wearing his rollerblades. Frankly, I don’t think anyone’s allowed to climb that fountain, but he never got caught. I still don’t know how you climb ANYTHING, while wearing rollerblades. But if anyone would do it, Kelvin would.DSC_0643

DSC_0645Some self-portraits were necessary by the Pineapple Fountain, with no one around to take them for us, and then we went down the lovely tree-lined walkway to the main fountain, in front of Vendue Wharf (which we usually just call the Pier). The Pier is a nice location, especially in summer, for sitting on the swings and hanging out, or for racing up and down the floating dock, at the end of the Pier.DSC_0647

DSC_0658Last time I was there, the “maps” were full of water, since it had just rained, and there was even water under the teeny-tiny bridge. Several blocks are covered in these maps, showing what the layout of Charleston was like, in each different century.DSC_0657

DSC_0651But the fountain (I don’t know if it has a name) is the main attraction, during the summer, for kids. I think I’ll call it the Entrance Fountain, for lack of a better title. Well, I think anyone would love to play in it, even the grownups. Just throw the swimsuits and sunscreen on the kids, take them downtown, and let them play in the Entrance Fountain until they’re worn out. Wouldn’t you like to? Just remember, no lifeguards.DSC_0652

DSC_0653And so, after a long day in Charleston, we walked back to our parking garage, by way of the Art Gallery, which is right behind Waterfront Park. I’ve never been inside, though. Come on, on a nice day in Charleston, would you rather be inside or outside? But while I was careful to not trip any more than necessary on the brick sidewalks, I admired some of the decor outside of the gallery. And you can see how high up we are, on the roof of our parking garage, judging by how far below us the Art Gallery is.DSC_0650

DSC_0660Yes, I know it took me a long time to go through one whole day in Charleston. Usually, I don’t take quite so many pictures, because I’m trying to keep up with my friends, and some of them are fast and determined walkers (Dave! Tom! Slow down!). DSC_0670

DSC_0668But my mom was very understanding, and let me take as many pictures as I wanted to. You’ll have to wait until May, for my next trip down there. I’ll have fewer pics, probably, but maybe we’ll go see something new, or something I haven’t seen in a while!DSC_0671DSC_0674

a charleston reconnaissance… the battery

Posted on by under America, History, Photos, Travel

As we stepped onto the Battery promenade (sometimes called the High Battery), we were glad of our heavier jackets, as the wind was fierce. Eventually, though, the sunny skies would warm us up. The Battery was named for the artillery battery that was placed on the point, where White Point Gardens now stand.DSC_0393

DSC_0398I had already been tripping over the uneven cobbles and stone walkways, and this didn’t change once I reached the Battery. I have a tendency to assume that walkways will be smooth, so I pay more attention to my surroundings than where I’m putting my feet. But all bets are off, in Charleston, because most sidewalks are made of stones that wobble and jut up in unexpected places.DSC_0401

The first house you see in my pictures of the Battery seems to be a miniature White House, with a railed off section on the roof that made me wish I could go up there and see the view. Maybe they have a good spot for sunbathing in the summer weather… then again, I suppose Southern belles didn’t do that.DSC_0403

The next house could be called the Pink Gingerbread house, I suppose, or even the Owl House. I wouldn’t know, but if you look on the upper front porch (way at the top of the house), there’s a fake owl that sits on the railing. I have no idea why, but it’s been there for years and years. I don’t know if the upper side porch counts as a gabled porch, or what, but I love how it seems to have grown right up and out of the roof.DSC_0406

DSC_0409The next couple of houses all resemble each other a bit, with a more rectangular shape and similar styles to their side porches. I love the side porches of Charleston homes, but I always know that they’d never look that cool, set off on a piece of property in the boonies. The narrow style would look odd anywhere else.DSC_0488

DSC_0489I got a closer angle on the next house, when we walked down the Battery on the other side of the road, later that morning. The pale pink house, with its delicate iron porch railings out front, has a long, shady brick driveway, guarded by a large magnolia tree. That shade just beckoned to you, but many of these are private homes, so you can’t just invade their yards (though I’m sure there are obnoxious people that do).DSC_0412

DSC_0413Their purple neighbor (about the color of black cherry ice cream, wouldn’t you say?) was less interesting, but at least it had a different color to tell it apart with. I can’t be certain, but it almost looks like the door color matches the rocking chair on the second story porch. Gives the main color scheme of the house a bigger punch, wouldn’t you say?DSC_0414

DSC_0479The brick follow-up to that one, with the green trim and a tilted porch brought another detail of some of the porches to my attention. Assuming they didn’t have modern ways of draining off the water that might accumulate after a bad storm, many porches have a bit of a tilt to them, making the houses look slightly unbalanced. I was having a hard enough time taking pictures that didn’t make the houses look crooked, but the slanted porches made this worse. But they have no need for gutters, since any rainwater will just slide off.DSC_0416

I paused to see how far down the Battery we had come. You may recognize that small brick building from my previous post, as its across the street from Rainbow Row. Also, these large stone “tiles” that make up the battery, some are not very steady, and if you step on a corner, they’ll shift underfoot. Of course, you’d have to put some serious weight on one end to get it to come up like a see-saw, but it’s disconcerting to feel one of those move under you.DSC_0417

DSC_0418Another pink house came next, but this one captured my attention just because of the winding metal staircase in the middle of the second story porch, which leads to the third story porch. I love winding staircases, whether they’re hid in corners or way out in the open. I am just as fascinated by the one in the library of The Music Man movie as with the one in the library of the Biltmore House.DSC_0421

The house that stands on the corner, right before White Point Gardens (what I formerly would have called Battery Park), is extremely pretty, and not just because it’s easier to see from the corner. Each story of this house seems to have a different design to the iron guard rails in front of the windows. My favorites are the ones on the second floor. This one also has the slanted porches on all levels, for rain run-off.DSC_0419

DSC_0420After visiting White Point Gardens (Battery Park), we walked back on the side closest to the antebellum houses. But first, we passed a bed-and-breakfast with a beautiful wrought iron fence and a live oak that draped over everything, loaded with Spanish moss and ferns. If I could afford it, I would stay in that bed-and-breakfast, just to get a closer look at its front garden and the live oak. Of course, the house was lovely as well, but it was harder to see, that close to the fence.DSC_0474

DSC_0478Many times along our walk, we saw the large pieces of granite that were probably used to mount a horse, rather than find someone to give you a hand up. Often, these stones were accompanied by the horse-head hitching posts. Also, from this angle, you can see the steps that help you get up to the Battery promenade from the street. If they’ve been there since before the Civil War, that would explain the double staircase on each one. I remember a tour guide telling me that the double staircases were so that the men could go up one side, and the ladies on the other, so the guys wouldn’t glimpse the ankles of the women. Shocking, you know!DSC_0480

DSC_0483I had passed the yellow brick house, earlier, but it had large hedges blocking much of the view, and I found it uglier than most. However, it IS for sale, if anyone really wants to buy a place on the Battery. And once I was that close to the house, I could take a picture through the fence. We were surprised to see those large evergreen tree/shrubs are held up by wires… maybe the wind could easily bring them down?DSC_0486

DSC_0491And another joy of walking along the fence-line is to be closer to all the flowers. Many fences were thickly wound with wisteria vines, which are thick and woody like the branches of a tree. They’re only beginning to flower and let out little whiffs of their wonderful scent. Most Southerners, in other areas of the state, look on the wisteria vines as weeds, or something little better, as they wind their way into trees and only bloom in the spring. The rest of the year, they’re either unnoticeable or uninteresting.DSC_0494

DSC_0496I was unsurprised to find the azaleas blooming in Charleston, while they’re only budding in the Upstate. But I can tell you honestly that I did not “improve” the colors on these pink ones. The southern sunshine did that, all by itself.DSC_0499

DSC_0501Next up, I’ll be backtracking to Battery Park (White Point Gardens).DSC_0505

off to the windy knoll…

Posted on by under America, Food, Photos, Travel

While in Pennsylvania, some of us spent our Saturday afternoon wearing our arms out, playing volleyball. The rest of the group went up on the muddy ball field to freeze to death and play Ultimate. This is what the decision comes down to when I’m faced with a choice between my two favorite sports. I actually like playing frisbee in the snow, because you can slide major distances and your jacket gives you additional padding. But when I’m really tired and it’s extremely cold? Besides, I hadn’t played volleyball in forever. And we’re supposed to play volleyball at the March conference. I thought everyone knew that!DSC_1091

DSC_1092When we’d worn ourselves out, temporarily, we abandoned the volleyball court, and prepared to pile into the cars to get ice cream. And then discovered that only three of us knew where Windy Knoll was, and I think every one of us knew a different way to get there. So, we split up and enjoyed the back roads of PA.DSC_1093

DSC_1094The guys riding in my car were from Maine and New Hampshire, and no matter how many times they come that far “south”, they appreciate the fields that seem to have no rocks in them. Or no rock walls separating the fields, to show how many rocks there used to be in the fields. I guess they haven’t seen that dairy farm down the highway? They have tons of rocks.DSC_1098

DSC_1099DSC_1100Windy Knoll Market & Creamery makes their own ice cream, which our conferences regularly travel to enjoy. Also, one Fall, I remember wandering through their corn maze for an hour or so. I have pictures somewhere…. I’ll have to go find them.DSC_1103

DSC_1104DSC_1105As soon as I hopped out of the car, I had to get some better pictures of the building than I’ve taken before, and really wished I could get a better vantage point to show you the rolling hills of PA. They’re quite a sight, whether they’re bare in winter or loaded with crops the rest of the year.DSC_1106

DSC_1109DSC_1110I hurried into the building, because it was quite cold outside, and then took a few pictures on the way back to the ice cream area, where the rest of our group had formed a mile-long (ok, it just seemed like it). No one else was in the seating area, so we were able to fill it up. I was looking for something close to Moose Tracks ice cream, though I’m not sure why it was necessary. I was going to have Moose Tracks at the snack shack, that evening. Instead, I had Peanut Butter Overload and Tin Roof Sundae (which had chocolate covered peanuts).DSC_1111

DSC_1112DSC_1113I actually hadn’t noticed the different cones you could choose from, until one of my friends pointed them out. I love cones, but I tend to get a dish, because it’s cleaner. I know, I’m boring. When I’m really in the mood for a cone, I get one dipped in dark chocolate, at the Marble Slab. In the summer, when I can be OUTSIDE. But I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen a pretzel cone or a chocolate chip cone, before.DSC_1115

DSC_1118DSC_1116Then I went back to checking out the variety on the shelves in the main part of the store. You can’t walk down the candy aisles or the dried fruit aisle and not want to buy just about everything. And the soda aisle… my family loves Pennsylvania Dutch Birch Beer. If you’ve never had it, it’s a bit like root beer or cream soda, but not quite. I’m not sure how else to explain it.DSC_1117

DSC_1121DSC_1123While living in PA, I also discovered the Kutztown brand of soda, and I particularly love their Sarsaparilla flavor. I’m guessing Aussies don’t have these, so they’re pronounced either “SASS-puh-rilla” or “SARS-puh-rilla” (I use the latter).DSC_1125

DSC_1124DSC_1127I had to stop and figure out what Bumbleberry Jam was. Blueberries, strawberries, and raspberries, with lemon juice, sounded pretty good to me. And also for the Aussies, the pretzel aisle. Americans love their pretzels, but I think the Pennsylvania Dutch have perfected the craft of making them.DSC_1129

DSC_1131DSC_1132You will be thrilled to know that I left Windy Knoll, only having bought myself some sassafrass hard candy, which tastes like the flavor in gum drops (at least I think it does). I can’t say as much for some of my friends, who were really into the gummy candy. If I had remembered, I would have made another trip to the local grocery store, so I could buy candied ginger by the pound. I had a special jar for that, when I lived up north.DSC_1133

DSC_1134DSC_1137Well, I hope you enjoyed this trip as much as I did. I really ought to go dig up some more pics from when I lived there, since I don’t have them time to go up there as often as I’d like, at present.DSC_1135

a boatload of boxes… & some books…

Posted on by under America, Books, Photos, Thoughts

My room is a wreck. It looks a bit like I’m moving out… or maybe moving in… or maybe both. Actually, I’m just trying to empty my storage unit (the one in PA), a bit at a time, because renting a U-haul is still too expensive. Last I checked, it was still double the price to go south as it is to go north. My wallet hurts, just thinking about it. So, every time I go north for a conference or to see friends & relatives (sometimes I do all of those at the same time), I stop at the unit to get a load of boxes and other things.DSC_0024

This time, I didn’t have an awkward cart to fit boxes around, so I was able to cram my CRV to the limit. At first, I thought I’d overestimated how much I could fit, bringing down more boxes than I should have. And then I figured I could manage, if I beat a couple of them into submission. At that point, I didn’t want to take them back upstairs on the storage elevator, so I just hoped I wouldn’t break anything. Fortunately, one of the back boxes, despite saying FRAGILE in big letters, seemed to have a sleeping bag in the bottom. The breakable stuff must be at the top of the box. I bashed in the back of that box, in order to get my back window closed. DSC_0026

Filling the car to the brim also resulted in another long trip where I couldn’t see out the back window, but since when is that unusual? I’ve done that, many and many a time. Of course, my “favorite” trip was probably one where I could see out the back… but I had a very long dresser in the car. So, I had to put the driver’s seat almost up as far as it would go, and drove for 10 hours with the steering wheel trying to eat my rib cage. Considering how much I enjoy leg room, when I drive, this was not comfortable. Nor was prying myself out of the seat, at every stop.DSC_0027

I managed to find my bulletin boards, so those are waiting to be loaded with pictures and other odds and ends. Several boxes are labeled Christmas Stuff, which some people might think was funny. How many single people have several boxes of Christmas decorations? Yes, I can decorate an entire Christmas tree, and several mantels, all by myself.

Some boxes had dishes, some have candles (I haven’t opened it yet, but it sure smells good), and some are from my office. I just removed whatever boxes I had room for, knowing that I couldn’t really be picky about what was in them (aside from the bulletin boards, which were necessary). My favorite boxes, though, are the two that held books. Ok, maybe there are others, but I think these are the only two. The rest of the book boxes are probably in the very back of the unit, near the shelves.DSC_0028

If you’re a fellow bookworm extraordinaire, you will appreciate the excitement of opening two small book boxes, curious to see what’s in them. I felt like I’d hit the jackpot, no matter what was inside. One contained a bunch of picture books, from “coffee table books” that I bought in Ireland (back in ’99) to beautifully illustrated Caldecott Medal-winning story books. That one also contained some of my yearbooks, which is kind of frightening. But I was too distracted by the second box, to pull everything out of the first.DSC_0029

I’d lucked onto a box of mostly hardbacks, with some classics mixed in with some history. When I pulled out That Devil Forrest: The Life Of Nathaniel Bedford Forrest, I really wanted to jump up and down. Except I was sitting on the floor, so that didn’t work very well. Since I’ve been on an American history binge, lately, I’ve been wishing I had access to some of my other history books. And I really want to read about this famous Confederate General.DSC_0036

After that, I found A Devil of a Whipping: The Battle of Cowpens, by Lawrence E. Babits. If you’re not familiar with the subject, this book is about an American Revolutionary War battle, not one from the Civil War. Cowpens is an hour or two up the road, here in South Carolina, and I have some mixed up memories of visiting it with my grandma, before she went into the nursing home. I don’t think we actually went anywhere but the gift shop… was that because of time constraints or what? I can’t remember. But I bought a ceramic mug and a book, and had some time with just my grandma. I remember the togetherness part, if not what else we did while we were there. Just because of that, I should read the book (finally) and go visit Cowpens, again. And yes, it has that strange name because it was originally referred to as “The Battle of the Cow Pens”, as I recall. Eventually, it turned into a town name.

I have a bad habit of picking up every old copy of Little Women that I find, in thrift stores, if it’s in hardback. I think I need to give away several copies of it. But during one of those thrift store trips, I once came across a set labeled “World’s Greatest Literature”, and I took a whole stack of them home with me. It included The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin, Washington Irving’s Sketchbook, Emerson’s Essays, Wakefield’s Vicar of Wakefield, and several more which aren’t in this box. I still haven’t read any of them, but I know I should, because they’re classics. My memory says that Ralph Waldo Emerson was a good writer, even if he was a bit of an idiot. Anyone who thinks John Brown (of Harper’s Ferry fame) was a saint (he was a murderer) is definitely an idiot.DSC_0038

Once upon a time, I started to read David Herbert Donald’s Pulitzer Prize-winning Lincoln, but I never finished it. It is quite a tome, you know. But though I’ll probably still read it, eventually, the book I really want to read is Donald’s Lincoln Reconsidered. Over the years after he wrote the original, I believe he learned some new things and rethought others concerning the myth of Lincoln, and wrote his newer book, accordingly.

Other classics like the Sherlock Holmes books are in this pile, and maybe I should re-read them. I remember when I first read The Hound of the Baskervilles, someone warned me that if I read it before bed, I wouldn’t sleep. I think I did it anyway, just to prove them wrong… I can’t remember exactly. DSC_0042

Over the years, I’ve come across numerous books written by Thomas Costain, or books that he edited, and I’ve picked up most of them. I don’t remember why I started doing that, maybe because he had some good collections of stories that he had edited. The funny thing is that while my mom has read them all, I’ve never read any of them, though I continue to collect them. I suppose I should try some of them now, right?  : )

I’ll let you know if I come across any other interesting books and things. This unpacking of boxes is quite fascinating, because it’s been in storage for over two years now, and I don’t remember some of it. Which should make it easier to get rid of some of it, right? That’s part of the plan, at least, to donate anything that I really don’t need. Including some of the books, if I decide I really don’t need them. Not easy to do, part ways with books, but I manage to do it, now and then.DSC_0043

too tired to think straight…

Posted on by under Travel

Of course, I had to think, somewhat, when I was at work. But for once, I was perfectly happy to go back to my rote replies to everyone. Occasionally, someone would distract me, and I would turn back and say “How are you?” (instead of “Have a good one!”) to the person that was about to walk away from the register. They just looked at me like I was nuts, and I pretended I was speaking to the next customer. It seemed to work.

With the regulars, I found myself able to make normal conversation, and when they asked me how my weekend was, I loved saying “It was great, but I’m tired.”, followed by the explanation that “I drove to Pennsylvania and back again.”.  That gets some really good responses, especially when they know where PA is.

I have a few posts that I was preparing to write, even before I left for up north, and now have enough photos for another post or two. But once I arrived home and carried more boxes into the house, I found there wasn’t much brain capacity left. It’s not like my drives took much longer than usual, I made it back in 9 hrs. That’s good time, with no traffic holdups or anything. But I did play a few hours of volleyball on Saturday, which made me extremely sore on Sunday… and then the 9 hrs in the car caused all my muscles to seize up.

As my friend said, over the weekend, “My back hurts in places I didn’t know it could hurt. The bottom… the top… the middle… the sides.” (Sharon said it, Jon).

I just thought I’d let you know I made it back safe, and I have plans for writing, as soon as I catch up on sleep, and have some mental energy to burn. Even though the weekend wasn’t nearly long enough for me, I had a wonderful time, and can only hope that you had just as good of a weekend.

road trips are my “SQUIRREL!”…

Posted on by under America, Travel

It’s Friday. That means I’m getting up at the crack of early to go to work. My co-worker and I have switched shifts, so that I can finish work at 2pm. So, I’ll be driving about 9-10 hours to spend 1.5 days with my friends at a conference, and then drive all that way back on Sunday. Sound like too much for you? I figured as much.

You may not understand how much road trips are to me. I just LOVE to travel, LOVE hitting the road, LOVE the freedom of the road. Don’t get me wrong, my backside is a bit sore after all that time sitting down. I’m only human.

It’s been quite a few years since I considered a 9 hour trip to be a big deal. I tend to laugh when people complain about driving 4 hours or less, which I consider to be peanuts. Of course, it’s all in your mind, how the trip affects you. I can get just as sleepy near the end of a short trip as at the end of a long one. But when you KNOW that you have a long trip ahead, you can just sit back and enjoy. Enjoy what, you’re wondering?

When I’m on a road trip, I’ve left my worries behind, I have the expectation of something wonderful at the end of it. Often, it’s time spent with my friends, at a weekend Bible conference. We play games, stay up late, play volleyball and Ultimate frisbee, spend hours talking and shrieking with laughter, and hearing the Word of the God from wonderful speakers.

When I’m on a road trip, I can crank up the music and sing my head off. I can talk eat a little healthily, and make more than one stop at Starbucks, if I want to. I can admire the scenery, and let my thoughts wander (not to be confused with not paying attention to the road ahead). I can hash out any problems that I can deal with or sing my head off, and get them to go away for the time being. There’s joy on the trip, and there’s joy at the end of the route. There’s even joy when I get back from that trip, because I can tell people all about what a wonderful time I had.

My current destination is where I used to live, when I was in Pennsylvania. So, not only am I headed where my best friends are located, I’m headed to a place that was home to me for several years. I know everyone around there, and love them all dearly. And some of them are getting older, so every chance I get to see them and spend time with them, is a precious time.

Do you remember Jack Sparrow telling Elizabeth that the Black Pearl isn’t just a ship? He told her that it was freedom to him. And while I don’t approve of all of his piratical attitudes and notions (nor of his personal hygiene), I can understand this. And yet, as much as I love my car, I don’t see my car that way as much as the actual act of traveling. Whether I’m on my own in the car, just me and my music, or sharing it with my friends, once the rubber hits the road… freedom has arrived.

So, let’s hit the road, already!

i think i like to write…

Posted on by under America, Books, Exercise, Travel, Writing

I made myself read another chapter or two of The Book of Three, before coming downstairs and getting on the computer. I slogged my way through, and perhaps the story is starting to grow on me, especially after Gurgi showed up. But then I find him to remind me a lot of Gollum, so I’m waiting for more of the differentiating characteristics. Yes, I know he’s hairy, like a wolfhound, but he started off by trying to strangle Taran, talks in a very strange manner, and does a lot of whining about the cruelty of the masters. I do know, of course, that he’s a lot nicer than Gollum, so I’m waiting for the whole story to improve, too.

You see, I’m getting more addicted to my blogging and writing, and it’s affecting my reading goals for the year. Dreadful, isn’t it? I’m three books behind schedule on Goodreads, which is unheard of, for me. Do you realize, it took me two weeks to read Ben Shapiro’s Bullies, despite it being a completely fascinating and awesome read? That’s how into my writing I’ve been getting, that I write and write, or edit and edit some more, and then I’m too tired to read. I think my usual program of getting all the fiction in at the beginning of the month was a good plan. Now, if I could just find some fiction that I want to read!

Going to the gym has cut into my free time, as well, but I don’t consider that a bad thing.  : )  My original goal for the year was to get hooked on going to the gym, and it’s working. I still have no specific weight-loss goals, but I can see the difference in my clothes, and enjoy it when the scale decides to change with them, too. It’s a nice feeling when I can see improvements in my endurance and strength on the track, as well as the other machines. My foot continues to act up, as if it’s annoyed with me for giving it a regular pounding, but even that is getting better, when I run.

At work, I’ve been working on the… well, I suppose it’s actually “small talk”, right? Blast it, I hate small talk. I like to have interesting conversations with people, not just the bubbly, frothy stuff. But when you only have a minute or two with every customer, you have to either stick with the run-of-the-mill “How’s it going?” and “Have a good one!”, or for the regulars, you come up with different things to ask them. Try and show some interest in what they’re doing, or ask them an interesting question that gets (or startles) a response out of them.

It’s tricky, because I’m used to being able to have longer conversations with people, and this short stuff frustrates me. I manage it with a few of them, though, because I know a little bit about some of their projects, or know when they’re exhausted from grading a million papers, before being able to work on their own research. Some of them never seem to stop, even to sleep, while some occasionally get their weekends off. I suppose if I knew what they actually did in those labs of theirs, I’d have even more fun, but short, conversations with them.

But if I’m looking for a good conversation, I should be getting it soon! I have a road trip scheduled for the beginning of March, so I get to start work early, leave early…. and drive to Pennsylvania! Ok, I know that most of you wouldn’t be thrilled by that kind of schedule, but I just love the fact that I’m going. And that it’s a road trip. I love road trips! Even if I have to get up for work at 5am, in order to not have to take the work day off. I’ll arrive at my destination by midnight, get to enjoy the remaining 36 hours of my conference, and then drive back on Sunday. Could it be any more awesome?

No, I’m actually not being sarcastic. I enjoy long road trips, getting to listen to music, and just enjoying the freedom of the road, with no responsibilities, aside from not getting in an accident (or getting pulled over). If I get to spend 1.5 days, or more, with my best friends, see other friends that I haven’t seen in months (I used to live there, remember), and hear some wonderful messages from the Word of God, then the weekend is a total win for me. I know plenty of people that would only see the terrible amount of driving involved, and that would ruin it for them.

I think I’ll stop now, as I have a few blog posts coming up with subjects I don’t want to teeter over into. I can be a danger to myself, (or maybe just to my blog) when I get to rambling!