Call me crazy but aren’t pickled cucumbers just… pickles?
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Required Lord Dudley Mountcatten photo.
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I’m really enjoying the weird and wonderful things people find at thrift stores FB page… and would totally have bought one of these for the man cave. Feed me Seymour!
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No climate change my *ss.
Ice fishing is big business up here but everyone is wondering how much longer they can survive without the actual ice.
😰
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Saw this the other day and saved it for future reference. Posting here in case anyone else wonders what those all flashing thingamagigs represent.
This is a bridge too far. Seats have gotten smaller, food disappeared, we’re charged for baggage and extra leg room and there are more added fees than my phone bill. Now they want to weigh me? Screw you Finnair. If I want to visit Finland I’ll fly to Sweden first and drive. They invented the smorgasbord and don’t care how much I weigh.
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I’m sorry, but this is not news in my house.
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I would expect no less from New Jersey. It is home to the Sopranos after all.
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*Groan*
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This type of thing drives me nuts. I understand language is a living breathing entity that grows and must change with the times. When new technology is added to our world? Sure.. include it. But these entries?
Or more precisely over the locally famous Ravenel bridge …
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To Patriots Point where we had tickets for a ferry. We arrived early as traffic can be tricky and stumbled on a press conference in the parking lot with the USS Yorktown in the background.
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The mayor and two other officials were rambling on about an upcoming spring yacht race…
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Which we wouldn’t be in the area for nor cared anything about, but my husband being my husband…
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Had to stand there and listen to the whole thing because at the end there was a question and answer period and he asked a question. Why? Because the man has to talk.
While he was doing that I looked around and took photos…
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The bridge from Patriots Point.
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The memorial and half of the Yorktown. I wish I’d known the ship was here, I would have scheduled time to tour her.
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Our ferry.
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The harbor.
And since my husband was still standing at the press conference? I checked out the gift store.
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Where the gifts were decidedly low brow.
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As well as deadly.
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This was absolutely bizarre to me. You’d never see ammunition for sale like this in Maine. It was just sitting there on the floor, in open boxes… where any child could take one.
WTH?
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Press conference over, we boarded our ferry.
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Under the watchful gaze of some pelicans.
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Who pose quite nicely for tourists.
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The ferry had two decks but it was a cold and windy afternoon so we went downstairs to cut the breeze.
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Charleston.
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A U.S. Park ranger gave an interesting lecture on the history of the place we were going to see.
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And though it was an overcast sky…
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It was still a lovely ride once I dragged my wind beaten spouse upstairs to the open deck.
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After 20 minutes…
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There it was.
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Sitting at the mouth of Charleston harbor.
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We disembarked…
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And walked on the very ground where the Civil War began.
Project #7 (8? … 9?… whatever, I’ve lost interest in counting at this point) began with dust protecting plastic being draped.
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Once a mini plastic walled room was in place, work on the ceiling began. I wasn’t looking for perfect at this stage, but I was hoping for better.
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After a mind numbing amount of scraping and dusty, lung clogging sanding…
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A smooth surface was ready for texture.
Our poor contractor tries hard to please and he didn’t want to screw it up by applying too much product, so he set the nozzle to fine and let it dry. It wasn’t close to a match so he sprayed it again. And again. And again. Forced to let it dry in between shots.
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Finally, at the end of the day when he was about to run out of daylight…
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With my husband holding a light so he could see where he was spraying….the optimum amount was reached.
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As usual Lord Dudley Mountcatten did not like the temporary plastic barrier.
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He stared it down, but it didn’t move.
Knowing he gets scolded if he tries to rip his way in, he opted for a more subtle approach.
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The old ‘throw your catnip mouse at the wall and see if breaks through’ maneuver.
He gave up for a while because he knew I was watching but as soon as I left the room?
I heard scratching.
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No mere sheet of plastic will keep Lord Dudley from making his appointed rounds.
Returning to the condo after Boneyard Beach, we met the nightly herd of neighborhood deer.
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They wander the area at will, not the least bit scared of cars or people.
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Southern deer are much smaller than the ones we’re used to seeing up north.
To me these are basically large dogs.
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We wondered where they slept in this area… it’s a beach after all, crowded with houses and very little undeveloped woods.
Did I mention we had dolphins in front of our resort twice a day? Two hours before high tide and two hours before low. They follow and drive the fish and we loved seeing them frolic.
Of course every time I tried to film them they stopped. Pay close attention here and you’ll see one break the surface.
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And speaking of sea creatures, Edisto Island is all about the turtles.
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Brightly painted and prominently displayed.
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Some of them were quite creative.
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On the main drag?
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The sand seemed to be gaining ground.
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And every time we drove by this rental house? We laughed.
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Oops. Major parking dimension miscalculation there.
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Another balcony selfie, slightly squinty as I was looking into the sun.
Since we still had a little daylight when we got back from Charleston, we decided to go back to the Botany Bay Preserve and check out the beach we didn’t have time to explore on our first trip there.
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It’s a half mile walk from the parking lot…
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Through marsh land with some pretty funky driftwood.
After our walking tour of Charleston we realized we’d skipped lunch and were starving. As it was too early for dinner, I did a little phone research and found a seafood place highly recommended by Southern Living magazine. They said the food was superb and to ignore the fact that the restaurant itself was a “dive”.
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Clearly their idea of “dive” and mine differ greatly because while admittedly this place wasn’t the Ritz Carlton, I’ve been in a helluva lot worse.
😉
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Naturally my husband wanted to sit at the bar.
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I’ve never had a strawberry daiquiri served in a mason jar before, but maybe that’s part of their dive-y charm.
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The hushpuppies? Meh.
Not great, not awful.
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My she crab soup?
Mama mia! It may not have photographed well but it was thickest, richest, creamiest crab filled thing I’ve ever had.
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To be honest I was pretty full after just that, but I was on vacation in the low country and couldn’t pass up an opportunity for shrimp and grits.
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I couldn’t…. but I should have, because it was awful. Yes, the shrimp were large and flavorful but the rest was simply a big bowl of slop. Too much pasty gravy, too soupy a consistency… blech.
I ate the shrimp and left the rest.
The husband? He had some type of inferior fish which was dry as a bone.
So much for taking Southern Living’s advice.
Aside from the soup the only thing that made me smile at this place was the poster in the rest room.
My nipples have never felt imprisoned, but maybe that’s just me.
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There’s an article I am not going to explore further.
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What is this ongoing obsession with Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce? A singer is dating a football player and I couldn’t care less…. but a good number of Americans think it’s a deep state conspiracy. I simply don’t get it.
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Yeah, I hate when that happens. If only he’d befriended a wombat instead..
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Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
