Tag Archives: humor

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Toogoodoo and a giant pineapple.

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Day 5 of our 40th anniversary trip dawned sunny and warmer.

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Which was such a welcome change I actually got the husband to participate in … and (half) smile … for a morning balcony selfie.

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On the itinerary that day? Charleston.

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By way of Toogoodoo.

At first I thought the nav system in the overpriced Lincoln was drunk…

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But no, the road exists.

Toogoodoo: The name given to the creek and the area by the Bantu (African) slaves who worked the sea island plantations surrounding it. The word translates loosely as “I have plenty/ My life is bountiful”.

A sentiment that resonated with me all day.

Charleston is a southern city I’ve always wanted to visit and in a little over an hour, we were there.

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We skirted the harbor…

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And drove down one of the most famous neighborhoods.

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Filled with lovely homes…

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All facing the water.

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Unfortunately right after we started driving we ran into a detour due to storm damage from the night before. So we zigged and we zagged in our giant monster rental and elected to ditch the traffic for a walk.

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This is the most popular park in town and thankfully pretty deserted off season.

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It sits right at the mouth of the busy deep water harbor…

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And don’t you dare let Fido off his leash.

$1087 seems like an arbitrary sum, but whatever.

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We hopped over puddles and made our way to the park’s most popular tourist attraction.

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The pineapple fountain.

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Pineapples are a symbol of hospitality and you’ll find them everywhere in this friendly city.

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This is probably a beautiful shot in summer when the sun is high…

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But I couldn’t quite capture the canopy angle properly this time of year.

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Done with the park, we strolled.

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Charleston is an old city with beaucoup traffic and very little parking. Take my advice, put on a pair of comfortable shoes and walk…

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It’s the only way you’ll get a real feel for the place.

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We were headed for the French Quarter and the magnificent Rainbow Row so beloved by Instagrammers.

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I couldn’t wait to explore, so of course my husband had to strike up a half hour conversation with this nice gentleman who had a strange car.

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In case you’re wondering, it’s a Figaro built by Nissan in the early ‘90’s. Only 20,000 were made and he said his wife had to have one. It’s a tiny little thing but after battling the in town traffic with our luxury behemoth rental, I’m sure it’s perfectly suited to life in Charleston.

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Miscellaneous missives.

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Furniture shopping continues and my snarky friends are still being helpful. Their latest suggestion?

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Well, it is green.

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The dark eyed Junco is a small bird of the sparrow family that we never see until the snow flies. They’re always the first to appear after a storm and we’re not the only ones looking….

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Lord Dudley Mountcatten keeps a close eye as well.

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Well, that’s rude.

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Trim work has started on the bedroom windows which means the man cave has once again been taken over….

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And reeks of wood stain and polyurethane.

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It’s odd how sometimes you read a passage in a book and it just gets you. This choked me up the other day. I hope it’s true….

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Sign seen at a local restaurant.

😊

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Mini hurricane? Go antique shopping…

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After showering off the sand from our beach walk and spraying my second hairdo of the day in place, I planned on spending the day at the resort since no one in their right mind goes out during a bad storm.

No one but my husband who refuses to waste a vacation day that is.

Here’s a little glimpse of the neighborhood right beyond our door. In the rain…

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As we headed over the bridge from Edisto, the sky did not look promising.

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But my husband was determined in his quest.

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Antiquing for my man is like the U.S. postal service…. Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night will keep him from shopping for crap.

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I told him he could only buy what would fit in his suitcase. Thankfully this did not.

As usual I saw some ridiculous things…

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Fur trimmed sleigh?

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Ah, the vomit clock.

A time honored treasure.

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Its little demon hand beckoned…

But I ran for my life.

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The husband has a weird obsession with vintage wooden advertising yard sticks and was bound and determined to come home with these… even though I assured him they wouldn’t fit in his bag.

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Southern self help book.

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7 sticks of butter? This makes a wonderful last meal before your arteries snap shut and your heart gives out.

We wandered around the store until the storm got bad enough that the owner wanted to close. Husband bought his yardsticks and a few other small items including this….

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No, he doesn’t cook. But it definitely qualified as quirky.

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In particular this recipe – which was so wrong, it was right.

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My only purchase requires a bit of explanation.

Last Christmas our state lottery ran a commercial about the joys of regifting. (Don’t roll your eyes, we’ve all done it.) The ad was a huge hit… funny and heartwarming and everyone loved it.

Take a look.

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So when I turned the final corner of the store and saw this sitting on a shelf?

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I knew it was $8 well spent and couldn’t wait to see my girlfriend’s face when she opened her gift.

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Store closing around us and bad weather moving in, my husband wanted to go out to lunch. Not surprisingly everything was closed because, ya know… mini hurricane.

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Lunch was at Hardees. And I use the word lunch loosely because whatever that sandwich was it didn’t resemble food as I know it. 🤢

When I finally dragged the other half back to the resort, the pelicans were turned to the wind ready to ride out the storm.

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It’s hard to tell, but the wind was really howling. Watch the palm tree in between the buildings on the upper left.

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The afternoon and evening of Vacation Day 4 was spent playing gin rummy (with a deck that had all 4 jacks)…

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And eating a box of this…

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Which I’d never seen before… but heartily enjoyed. Beer + cheese + pasta = happiness.

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Winds were 65 mph.

It was a long noisy night….

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Pre storm morning beach walk… part two.

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You could feel the drop in barometric pressure, the storm was moving in.

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But we walked.

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With me lamenting the fact that we flew instead of drove to SC because there were some shells worthy of collecting.

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So many shells…

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And the starfish!

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Man, they were everywhere.

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And much larger than what we have in Maine.

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The farther we walked from the resort, the darker it got.

Naturally my husband found the only other person on the entire beach and started a conversation as it began to rain.

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She was collecting dead starfish.

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But as much as I love beach strolling, I don’t love doing it in a downpour so we ran back to the condo.

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Not soon enough judging by my hair.

🥴

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News you can’t use.

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Trust me, you really can’t.

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Please tell me there was a model involved. The thought of disembodied pubic hair strutting down the runway in stilettos is simply too much.

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Gas station heroin?

In my day that used to be Cheetos.

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It seems I owe Lord Dudley Mountcatten a thank you tuna.

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If it’s not safe for work it’s probably perfect for this post.

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Or not.

I admit I’m so out of touch I had to look up fleshlight. My advice? Don’t.

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Send the animated pig brain to Washington. I think they’re a few short…

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Pre storm morning beach walk…

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Not wanting to waste any precious time on our week long vacation, day four threw a monkey wrench in my carefully planned trip.

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We woke to overcast skies, an egret in the pond and a forecast of what turned out to be a mini hurricane. Heavy rain, high winds and dangerous surf are not prime beach resort conditions.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, I burned breakfast. Again…. due to the stupid flat surface stove that had two burners in one.

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High level heat if you turned right, high level heat if you turned left. This proved too much for my under caffeinated morning brain to handle and henceforth, the husband was on his own when it came to eggs.

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But at least the dish sponge was happy.

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Not having walked the beach since we got there, I forced my spouse onto the sand before the storm arrived. That’s his arm to the right of the photo, pointing out which unit was ours. I’m not sure why as we had just exited it and I was unlikely to forget that quickly.

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My husband is not a beach guy, not an idle walker. He needs a destination and purpose…

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I told him pleasing his wife of 40 years should be motivation enough.

😉

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We had the beach to ourselves, but it was cool, dark, damp and hellaciously windy.

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As proved by my epic hairspray fail.

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On the far right side…

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The marina.

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In between?

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Lots of marvelous shore birds.

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Even my husband likes to watch those.

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It’s hard not to smile.

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And then there was snow.

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We haven’t had a lot of snow this year.

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Or last year or the year before that unfortunately … so when the pretty white fluffy stuff does fall and stick?

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I wake up early to photograph it in that lovely pinkish blue morning light.

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And while I do enjoy it…

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Our contractor who still has to replace the siding from the bedroom window replacement does not.

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Can’t say I blame him.

🥴

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Windy beaches, selfies and fake stars.

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After discovering the lighthouse we’d come to see was closed, we decided to walk the Hunting Island beach instead.

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Following the rubber highway across the dunes we hit the sand and were just about blown away.

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I packed for the south, where it’s supposed to be warm…. and I swear the week we spent in South Carolina was colder than Maine.

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The beach was lovely.

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But to be honest it was too cold and windy to enjoy.

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The husband was less than thrilled to be walking in arctic wind, but I persevered.

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For a little while anyway.

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You know it’s windy when the sea foam is bouncing down the sand.

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We left before frostbite set in and continued on.

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Past a shrimping fleet and towards Fripp Island which we were told was lovely.

It might have been, but we’ll never know because it’s a gated private island where we were told to turn around and leave in no uncertain terms.

Didn’t they realize the rental vehicle we were driving cost $100k? That should have counted for something.

I mean really… it had a dashboard star display.

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What more could they want?

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In with the new… and a disturbing foamy bonus.

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When last I left the bedroom picture window saga, the old had been removed and the new was on its way.

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Carefully, across the ice covered snow.

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This baby was heavy, and awkward to lift as there’s really no place to grab.

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You knew it wouldn’t be easy, right?

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Did I mention it was about 12 degrees that day?

Good times.

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Hallelujah, it was in.

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Secured, insulated and awaiting new trim and sills.

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And speaking of insulation..

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Sometimes the spray foam has a mind of its own.

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A rather disturbing mind as it turns out.

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Or maybe that’s just me.

😉

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