2008: That’s a wrap!

I feel compelled to write something to acknowledge the end of the year, and the beginning of the next. I have been so focused on “my year” which started back in May 2008 and was technically to end in May 2009 that this New Years doesn't really feel the same as New Years Eves of the past.

Although I have to say that at this point I doubt I will make it to May ‘09 without going back to work sooner. Not because of money, in fact my budget is secure and I’ve been able to live within it and even get ahead of it actually. The reason I may go back to work sooner is because I am having a tough time not working. Perhaps that has more to do with personal things that I won't go into here because it affects more than just me, but suffice to say that these past 7 months have been a true learning experience in self-preservation more than anything else.

Working 5 days a week means you have to live within certain boundaries. You have a routine. You have demands on your time by people other than just yourself. In a lot of ways, it’s a good thing to have so many demands placed on you. It means you're needed, you're useful and people know they can depend on you. Especially if you find that you don’t demand much from yourself. And that’s me these days. While working, there are many things that just happen because of these natural boundaries: you get up early, get dressed, socialize, earn your pay, carve out time to relax, exercise, go to bed “at a decent hour” and you travel a little.

While not working, some of these things have gone by the way side entirely - like getting up early and getting dressed every day. I would say that on average I allow 8.5 to 9 hours of sleep every night compared to 6 or 7 hours while I was working. My bedtime varies anywhere from 11:00 PM to 3:00 AM - but mostly it‘s about 12:30. I naturally wake up after 8.5 to 9 hours of rest now, compared to basically sleep-walking until 10am previously. On average I take a shower and get dressed every other day, sometimes I go even longer than that, like when I’m on the boat. I‘ve gone for up to 4 days without a shower - more than once. It’s such an alien concept, I’ve never been like that before. Well, I guess I’ve never had the opportunity to be like that before. I kinda like it. If I don’t feel like getting dressed, I just don’t.

As for socializing, that has gone by the way-side to a great extent, but I've also found new avenues of socializing that are fairly rewarding too. I have my core group of girls in Charlotte to turn to, but I’ve only seen them three or four times since I left the hotel. I have my Mom at the beach, and a smattering of random marina people who would probably check in on me if they didn’t see me for a few days but knew I was here because my car is in the parking lot. I am much more “social” with strangers, in the sense that I speak to people who I ordinarily wouldn’t in places that I find myself - running errands, in shops, etc. But I would say that this has been the hardest thing to figure out in my time off, the extent of the socializing I, personally, require. I love solitude. I love quiet. I love how my cat follows me around the house. I love not having to answer the phone constantly all day long and answer questions and try to sell people on stuff (the fine art of begging without begging). But the flip side to that is - I can do it, and I’m really good at it and it's basically how I’ve made a living for all the previous years leading up to my year off. Can I really "afford" to NOT go back to that?

On the other hand, I have been able to do a lot more traveling since I stopped working. Between all the trips to the boat, I’ve traveled regionally, visiting old favorites like Charleston, Blowing Rock and Winston-Salem. I’ve explored new places like Wilmington and have really gotten to know Myrtle Beach pretty well too - especially from the water. All these places right in my backyard have lent themselves to hours of exploration. No, it’s not Mexico or the Caribbean or Europe, but I’ve been able to dig deep into these places and really experience them.

But with the New Year starting in just about an hour and a half, I feel like I’ve really got to get on the stick. It’s not without a sense of fear and self-doubt, that I wonder what on Earth is next for me. On a daily basis I wonder if I’m capable of getting back into the fast lane. I have duelling forces in my mind that constantly pull me between “you belong in the fast lane” and “you belong in the slow lane”. If only there really was such thing as a magic hat - like the one in Harry Potter - that would just tell me where I belong and I would simply go there.

Also, I wish I could speak openly about my relationship with Gary here, but I just can’t. Suffice to say that all is not well in paradise and yet my insides get all seized up at the thought of not having him to turn to, to be my best friend, and to be my happily ever after. So much of what I’ve done this year has been with him, and it’s been a wonderful, exciting, adventurous love-filled year. And even if he hasn’t been along on some of those adventures, he constantly harps on me to “give him something to read” here on the blog, and he‘s been incredibly supportive of my writing and without him giving me a roof over my head there's no way I could have taken the year off from working. It would simply have been cost prohibitive.

But the reality is that here I sit, alone, on the boat, on New Year’s Eve - recapping what I’ve taken away from my year off (so far) and he’s in Charlotte with his family. I know that it’s my choice to be here, but the choice was between “bad” or “worse” and in this case, I chose to go with “bad”.

All day today I’ve tried not to think too much about the fact that it’s New Year’s Eve and I’m here alone. I had my tea this morning after 9 hours of sleep, I watched a little Travel Channel, I caught up on emails and Facebook updates, checked my bank accounts and horoscopes, went to the gym, got Chinese take-out for lunch, and have written all evening. The way I (am trying to) see it, the fish don’t know it’s NYE. The birds don’t either, and there are so few people down here on the dock that nobody knows (or cares) that I’m here alone. But I can’t help but think about all the millions and millions of people across the world who are celebrating at parties and gatherings tonight and getting kissed at midnight by their one and only - and I’m just here having a little pity-party for one. I guess I’ll write it off to that whole “character building” thing again, and perhaps for an appreciation I’ll be feeling this time next year, when I look back and say to myself, “Can you believe that this time last year you were ALONE, on a boat, in Myrtle Beach, on New Year's Eve????? Boy how things have changed!!!!!”

Cheers to that. Happy New Year.

One last thing about Nancy

My dear friend and confidante Nancy has a penchant for the finer things that is unmatched by anyone I know. At 110 lbs. soaking wet, she has a body most women would kill for, and she can wear ANYTHING. She has the most beautiful clothes, jewelry and accessories. She LIVES to dress, and she is spectacularly adept at finding the perfect pieces.

Her closets are brimming with all sorts of goodies - from True Religion jeans to seven different Louis Vuitton bags (among many, many others) to the Cartier watch she sports on her wrist. This is what Nancy is about. In the way that I'm about relaxing on the boat or taking a ride on a jet ski through the marshes of coastal Carolina or cruising through along the Blue Ridge Parkway, or eating in the best restaurants not to be seen but to experience the joys of fine food - Nancy is about clothes and shopping, and she's darn good at it.



I took this picture on the first night I arrived at her house, just before we left to go out. She offered me one of her LV's since my new bag (the light colored Coach which was an absolute STEAL by the way, at almost 75% off the retail price of $500 at the Coach store in Myrtle Beach, my Christmas present to myself) just didn't *work* with my all black outfit. So she starts hauling out all these different bags for me to select a loaner for the night. And that's another thing about Nancy. She is so generous, so thoughtful and would cut off her right arm if I needed to borrow it. Well, maybe that's a little far fetched, but Nancy is a one-of-a-kind and everyone who knows her well sees past her insatiable need for the latest and greatest and sees a beautiful, unique soul who would do anything for the people she loves, and I'm so happy to count her as one of my oldest and closest friends. Thank you for a MUCH NEEDED retreat my friend!

PS - I can't forget about Raven, her dog and trusty companion. Raven is such a precious and lovable pooch. Such a good boy! Such a good boy!

Another memorable evening

After my day in the sun, I went shopping for something a little dressier than athletic bra and sweat pants to wear to dinner later that evening. I don't have a GPS (and don't want one...unless someone insists on giving one to me as a gift) - but I'm pretty good with the low-tech version of a GPS. A map - what a concept!

I found a shopping area with my favorite stand-by Marshall's, and dove in to dig around for something suitable to wear to dinner. I had absolutely NO LUCK on my side and ended up with a tie-dyed shirt (that could pass for a bathing suit cover up AND a casual top for dinner) and a khaki skirt 2 sizes too big for me, but I simply refused to spend a ton of cash on a summer outfit to wear one night in December - when I have plenty of dressy stuff at home, and especially given my fixed income.

Here's one more shot from the balcony, this time at sunset. Beautiful.



One of Nancy's friends picked me up around 6:00 at the condo and we drove to Ft. Lauderdale, about 10-15 minute drive, to meet Nancy at a great restaurant on Los Olas called Big City Tavern. Feeling a little self-conscious in this very posh part of town, I didn't take any pictures of the food or the interior of the restaurant - but suffice to say it was all very well done and my dinner of Rigatoni Bolognese was superior to any I've had before.

After dinner, the conversation soured somewhat as we discussed such things as politics, religion and abortion (just kidding) so we walked around a few cute shops to take our minds off the heavy conversation. These are Nancy's old stomping grounds from when she grew up, and she knew loads of interesting detials about the places we were walking. The whole area was pretty fabulous - in sort of a San Francisco meets Charleston kind of way. While I'm not a fan of say, South Beach, this area, Ft. Lauderdale, is a different kind of place with a more mature sensibility to it. I could just kick myself for not having taken a single picture that night!

On *not* living behind a pane of glass

Monday morning Nancy had to go to work, so I got to sleep in. Consummate hotelier that she is, Nancy had gone out to get a few things like 2 kinds of tea - just so I could have my morning cup while visiting.



I sat on the balcony of her condo sipping my tea and watching the life of South Floridians whiz by 12 stories below. I was amazed at how many people were out for their morning walk or run, all ages, men and women alike. I watched the cars go by on Ocean Drive below, and watched boats float by just beyond the road on the ICW. I could see a group of people in the swimming pool across the street doing water aerobics, and thought how nice it would be to go for a swim.

It made me think about something I read recently - about how so many people live their lives behind a pane of glass, looking out at the world but not participating in it. As I sat there on the balcony, I realized that was exactly what I was doing. Here I was in beautiful Hollywood Beach on this supremely gorgeous day, and I was literally watching it through the pane of glass surrounding Nancy's balcony. I don't want to be one of those people, but I'm afraid it is a natural tendency. I have to force myself to get out and DO stuff, and Monday morning was no exception.

I do know this - that once I'm out and about, I enjoy it fully! It's just the initial step that's the hardest. I've been like this forever, but it's REALLY become apparent in these past 7 months of not having to go to work every day that I've struggled with wanting to stay home (wherever that may be) in my bathrobe and sip tea, or get out and DO SOMETHING that I know I'd like. Especially if it includes communing with nature.

Although I had a bathing suit on the boat, in the flurry of packing I forgot to put it in my bag. So I put on the next closest thing I had - a running bra/tank top, and some capri-length exercise pants, and I set off for a walk on the beach.



I walked down to Nancy's Hotel via the beach and marveled at how many people were out and about. Virginia Tech is playing in the Orange Bowl and seems the hotel was their headquarters. I felt very comfortable in my somewhat frumpy beach attire because I figured most of the folks on the beach were genteel Virginians and not the ultra-flamboyant South Floridians.



This hotel ROCKS. It is GORGEOUS, and quite a feat of modern engineering to build the hotel with a giant cube cut out of the center! The sky was so blue, and the water an inviting turquoise. The water was a little cooler than I had expected. I was tempted nonetheless to rent a jet ski and take it out for a spin, but in the end didn't bring my wallet, plus, that's much more fun when you have someone to play with.



I sat in the sand for about an hour, watching the waves and seagulls and people walking by. An hour was all I could take really, the sun was very intense and I could tell I was getting burned that quickly.



I returned to the condo and decided to go looking for a Cuban restaurant I'd seen the night before. I was jonesing for a Cuban Sandwich, and where else besides Havana would I find an authetic Cuban than in this place - the Cuban's home away from home? Sadly, I didn't find the place I thought I had seen, so I settled for a ham and swiss sub from Quizno's, asking for extra pickles to attempt some sad version of the classic delicioso sandwich. Unfortunately, Q's didn't hold a candle to an authentic one, but I enjoyed it none the less at a roadside park sitting at a concrete picnic table under whispy palm trees, again, next to the ICW. Just me and Barbie!



I was lucky enough to see this beauty glide by while enjoying my lunch - a 62ft Azimut. I've only seen these in magazines. A true stunner!

Sunday Afternoon in Hollywood

After an understandably slow start on Sunday, we set out for a late lunch / early dinner by the water. The Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway - that is. Funny that the marina in Myrtle Beach is located on the intracoastal waterway too. It's literally 100 yards from where I sit perched on the boat to the waterway, and is the water-route that snow birds take to the exact destination where I found myself over the weekend.



We went to a little dive called Jimbo's something, and had a buffet of bar food including coconut shrimp, wings and fries. We were attacked by little flying insects thirsty for our alcohol laden blood, but we managed to fend them off with some bug spray the bartender kept behind the bar.



We watched the sun set, and named the boats passing by. I was relatively disappointed that we didn't see anything truly spectacular, but it was nice all the same to sit by the water and have a peaceful afternoon.

Planet Nancy

So as my car is whisked away by the valet at Nancy's condo's driveway, I’m standing there completely dazed from the insane drive I'd just completed as one of Nancy’s friends arrives simultaneously. He helps me with my bags and takes me upstairs while Nancy finished a walk with her beloved four-pawed companion of 7 years, Raven.

We get upstairs and immediately pop open some wine and snack on olives, cheese, salami and crackers. I am informed of our itinerary for the evening - which would include three more friends joining us at “Hard Rock”. So I’m thinking no big deal - Hard Rock Café Hollywood, cool - I’ll bring home a souvenir glass. Low key, typical night out for me.

WRONG. Couldn’t be MORE wrong, in fact. Honestly I don’t know what I was thinking - I mean - this is NANCY for crying out loud. Nancy doesn’t do anything “typical”. Including, most especially including, going out and painting the town red.

I’m told that nothing really gets started at Hard Rock until at least 11. How long has it been since I “went out” and was home AFTER 11:00 I thought - ? Friends, it’s been A WHILE. Getting started on a night out at 11:00PM was like visiting another planet. Let’s call it “Planet Nancy”.

So I take a shower, have some more wine, meet the friends who would accompany us on our night out. It was a mixed bag - a younger couple who were very friendly, a girlfriend who I found out had recently turned forty and in Planet Nancy fashion was still celebrating a good 3 weeks afterwards, and Nancy’s guy friend who cooks professionally, so I automatically had a soft spot for him. All in all - a very fun group.

We set out in Nancy’s brand new gorgeous Acura (seats 8) and drove to the Hard Rock Resort and Casino where there seemed to be a hundred different restaurants and bars in this massive complex. We valet park and all of us jump out, and walk over to a bar that I can’t remember the name of, but it was something like “Pangyee” (pan-jee) - all I could think of was monchichi (mon-chi-chi mon-chi-chi - oh so soft and cuddly) - anyway… Of course there was a line to get in - but on Planet Nancy, “we NEVER do lines” so we walk up to the VIP entrance, Nancy and her entourage, and we are led inside after a brief confirmation of our VIP status and table reservation.

Many years ago Nancy told me, “you’ll never be a VIP unless you act like one” so I just kept quiet, shoulders back, head high, making eye contact with everyone but no one - I‘m sure it was a pretty funny sight, I mean, as if. We proceeded to our “table” which was more like an open booth with comfy sofa seating and a couple of cocktail tables, set back from the main walkway and dance floor. We were swarmed by servers and hostesses falling over themselves to bring our drinks and see to our relative comfort. The arrangement is that with your $500 private VIP table, you get one bottle of liquor and all the mixers you require. Certainly you can order more if you wish.

Shortly after getting settled I must have looked slightly disconcerted as Nancy proclaimed I needed to loosen up. I tried to explain that the 12 hour drive probably had something to do with it, the fact that I had not packed anything suitable for South Florida night life (not that I could have even if this trip had been planned with more than 18 hours notice seeing that I don’t actually OWN anything suitable for South Florida night life either) so I was a little uncomfortable in my all black yet mis-matched ensemble of black t-shirt, black skirt, black tights and black shoes and carrying one of Nancy‘s Louis Vuitton‘s because my new $500 Coach bag didn‘t go right.



Or perhaps it was the music that I wasn't crazy about (still prefer a head nodding 90's techno beat) or the club scene in general that I haven't been a part of for, oh, about 10 years, but I was trying to “loosen up” the best I knew how. The nice bottle of Grey Goose and plenty of Cranberry juice and limes helped I think.

After all, I thought, the VIP hand-stamp we received upon entering the club read “VIDA” - which - if my limited Spanish is correct it means “life” or “to live” - as in “Living La Vida Loca” (living the crazy life) by that guy, oh what’s his name - the Mexican Marky-Mark…? Anyway, I used it as a constant reminder to loosen up, all night.

At 2:45... Yes… 2:45AM - I was really DONE. I looked around and found myself sitting alone at the table as everyone was either on the dance floor or in the ladies room. I went outside the club for some air and was leaning up against a large planter for a couple minutes and watched as hoards of scantily clad party-people cruised by, seeing and being seen. I “drunk texted” Gary and said, “Get me outta here” - which was probably not the smartest thing to do (when is drunk-texting, like drunk-dialing, ever a good idea?).

But all of a sudden I saw Nancy standing outside the ropes talking to the manager-looking dude. I stood there, leaning against this planter just watching, thinking to myself, oh - there’s Nancy. I wonder what she’s doing? But after several minutes I realized this was not idle chat going on, so I stumbled over to see what was the matter. On Planet Nancy, there is never, I repeat, NEVER a dull moment.

It turns out that a couple of girls had somehow chosen our private table to become squatters in (I mean that in the property stealing way, not the bathroom way), and had caused a smidgen of trouble. When Nancy had gone to the ladies room, they followed her and starting slinging insults at her. Anyone who’s been to Planet Nancy knows - DO NOT SLING INSULTS AT NANCY - you will live to regret it. So basically these girls in wife-beater tank tops were calling Nancy (and by default - her entourage) “white trash with boob jobs and botox”. EXCUSE ME?! How many white trash chicks do you know who get botox injections and boob jobs? So on the one hand, being insulted by someone saying you look young and vivacious isn’t exactly an insult, right? But still - it was meant to be harsh and mean. So of course push comes to shove, literally, and then one of the girls BITES Nancy. What the hell????? Yes, somehow Nancy’s right index finger ended up in this girl’s mouth and she BIT her, breaking the skin on BOTH sides of Nancy's finger.

So back to me stumbling over to Nancy and the manager - I see that her finger is wrapped in paper towels and I ask what happened. She unfurls the paper towel to reveal a large clump of more blood soaked paper towels and then shows me her wound. She recounts the story, and by this time she has the full attention of the management, security and paramedics, meanwhile the 2 girls who assaulted her run out of the club and get away.

By this time the rest of our group has found us outside and so there is another re-telling or two of the story, more confirming with the management - although they didn‘t feel it was necessary to comp the bill for the table which we all thought was ludicrous but we were too tired (and hammered) to press the issue, so we finally left.

On the way to the car we stopped at a doughnut cart and got two dozen freshly fried doughnuts and scarfed them down (I had hardly eaten anything all day, and was STARVED by this point - about 3:45am). We then decided to go to Denny’s to eat. I have NO IDEA how long it took us to get to Denny’s, but when we sat down it was 4:15.



We ate breakfast - then staggered out and got back to Nancy’s at freaking 6:00 am. Now, mind you, I got up at 6:00am the day before, hit the road at 7, drove 12 hours, then went out for a night on the town - IN ONE DAY. Naturally I went straight to sleep, and didn’t wake up til 2:30 Sunday afternoon.

Change your latitude...Change your attitude

Thank goodness I can always rely on my Mom for a thouroughly traditional Christmas, because I didn't do any decorating what-so-ever at home. Her decorations were a welcome sight when I arrived on Christmas Eve - her tree is always beautiful.

But after this hopefully soon to be forgotten Christmas, where everyone was pretty much strapped for cash yet I didn’t get the ONE thing I asked for (a $10 micro-plane zester - instead I got 2 different kinds of zesters, which I already own a version of both - oh well, it's the thought that counts, right?).

Besdies the delicious meal Mom prepared, I my Christmas hangover was quickly setting in, feeling let down and restless. Likewise, Gary must have been feeling a little restless too, and despite the fact we hadn't seen each other in about a week - I didn't even get a kiss on Christmas Day when he arrived at Mom's, only his famous one-arm hug. He barely spoke to anyone which is very much out of character for him. I guess the separation anxiety from his family was too much. Clearly preferring to be home having *a blast* with them than sitting around with me, Mom and A.Vee, he took off to go back to Charlotte in the middle of the night after barely 24 hours at the beach. Merry freaking Christmas to you too, honey.

So Friday afternoon (the day after Christmas) I talked to my old pal Nancy for almost 2 hours and decided it was time I paid her a visit. In Hollywood Beach, Florida. And I decided I’d leave the next morning, on Saturday. Yes, on a whim I decided to drive 12 hours south - to the land of 80 gorgeous degrees, palm trees and sandy beaches. What’s that old saying about change your latitude, change your attitude? I was in great need of a change in both, so I set off Saturday morning at 7:00am.

Google maps clocks that trip at 11 hours, 23 minutes and 697 miles. That doesn’t include stops for gas, food, bathroom breaks and leg cramps. I was afraid I was going to get a blood clot (???) so I stopped about every 2.5 hours.

Besides driving home from Madison, Wisconsin, after I graduated from UW, this was the longest solo drive I’ve ever been on. That trip from Madison I broke into 2 days, but this trip I decided I‘d do in one day - each way. That is a LONG ASS DRIVE. After the first 200 miles I was all, “Woo-hoo! I’m 1/3 of the way there, then realized that no, in fact 697 divided by 3 is 232.3 so I delayed my celebration another half hour. Then at 348.5 miles I was STOKED! Half-way! Which is roughly Jacksonville, at the very tip top of Florida. The rest of the trip went a lot faster. Jacksonville, Daytona, Vero Beach, West Palm, Ft. Lauderdale then FINALLY - dang! FINALLY after 12 hours - I arrived at Nancy’s condo in Hollywood Beach!

Here’s the view from her condo on the 12th floor of her building:



She lives 2 buildings down from where she works with the Big S Hotel Co. She walks to work except for days where its raining or too windy. Nice!

Christmas Show

Tonight Mom, A.Vee and I had tickets to “The Magical Spirit of Ireland Featuring the Incredible Irish Tenors” at the Palace Theater in Myrtle Beach. As usual, Mom was behind schedule so since I had the tickets, I went ahead into the theater to save us three seats, thinking I’d just slip out when they arrived and bring them to our places.

I bought these tickets online, and while it made an impression on me when the seating chart came up on the screen and showed we were going to be in 3 of the best seats in the house, despite having bought the tickets only 3 days prior to the show - I didn’t think anything of it except that maybe a large group must have cancelled at the last minute and we got lucky.

So this afternoon I thought I’d beat the rush on Will-Call that was sure to ensue before the evening performance, and picked up the tickets early. The lady behind the counter mentioned that guests start to “line up” at 5:30 to get a seat. I hesitated, but said, “Oh, we already have our seats…right?” She shook her head and said, “Did you purchase your tickets online?” I said yes. She said, “It says it on the website, but a lot of people don’t notice, but it’s a general admission show.” Slightly disappointed, but still OK with this, I said oh well, and called Mom to let her know they should probably leave a little early to get to the theater. Mom doesn’t “do” last minute plans all that great, but with 4 hours notice I thought maybe I could buy 5-10 minutes.

This is the third year we've gone to a show the week of Christmas down here at the beach. Last year we went to Dixie Stampede's Christmas Show, which, at the time, was fun and a unique style of entertainment, but then again, I'm a sucker for anything with horses in it. And I must admit they do a beautiful job with a live nativity scene replete with a-dor-a-ble baby lambs and goats, donkeys and even camels! The year before that, though, was by far the BEST Christmas show we've seen down here - it was the one at the Alabama Theater and it was LOVELY and I remember leaving there filled with all kinds of Christmas spirit!

But I digress. So I arrive at the theater and there are already a good 30-40 people in line. I approach a clean cut guy wearing a very nice suit and say to him, “You look official - the rest of my party isn’t here yet, should I go ahead and get in line anyway?” He steps back and I hear him say something in a nice Irish accent to the affect of “I’m in the show - you’ll need to ask that nice lady over there.” Hmmm… You’re in the show? Then what are you doing out here? OH - I see - there’s a photographer and he’s taking pictures of the folks in line with you and this other guy in an identical suit and tie and I’ll bet he’s Irish too. God! Dollywood Strikes AGAIN! What’s with all this money-grubbing-let’s-make-a-buck-off-every-Joe- Schmoe-rampant-cruise-ship-style-exploitation?!? I go over to the “nice lady” taking tickets and ask her the same thing.

She says I can get in line and go in, and when the rest of my party arrives I can come back out, give her their tickets, and we can all be seated. Whatev.

Inside the theater, there I am, waiting for my party to arrive, already in our seats, surrounded by out-of-towners dressed in jeans and hoodies and pretty much nobody under the age of 60 in sight. I observe that the “theater” is incredibly small. Like, smaller than a movie theater. I text back and forth with Gary a few times, bemoaning my mother’s curse of being late to EVERYTHING, then, at 6:00 on the dot, the lights dim and I panic, because the rows are very narrow and I’m on the inside of 3 elderly people, and I can just imagine what it will be like when Mom and A.Vee get in there, trying to feel for their seats in the dark, taking off their coats, and get situated.

6:01, the show starts. Although I was at least 6-8 rows back, I may have well been on the stage itself we were so close and it was such a small theater. Six girls, probably in their early twenties, appear on stage in VERY short dresses which could easily be taken for bathing suits with skirts, wearing black tights and big, clod-hopper Irish Dancing shoes. They were doing the typical Irish Lord of the Dance number, legs swinging at the knee and ankle as they leap higher and higher in the air... But since there were only 6 of them, and because we were so close to the stage, it was more like watching a small group of cheerleaders. I swear - that’s exactly what I was thinking, then they started shrieking loudly to accent certain moves - and I SWEAR it sounded like they were doing a cheer.

Shortly the two clean cut and nicely dressed Irish guys from outside with the photographer came on stage singing a melo-dramatic “Danny Boy” (when did that become a Christmas song?) and then breaking into a very lame stand-up comedy routine. I could just hear the Grandma’s and Grandpa’s in the audience saying, “Don’t you just love their accents!” It was about to make me puke.

As it turned out, those two guys make up the “Incredible Irish Tenors” of the “Magical Spirit of Ireland”. Those two and the cheerleaders. Then they broke into some Irish drinking song which I could not identify, then one more round of the cheerleaders, and by 6:10 I’d seen enough. I got up from my seat, excused myself past the three elderly folks, and walked out of the room.

I got Mom on the phone, she said they were just parking. I told her I really wasn’t sure they needed to come in, briefly told them what had transpired thus far. Mom reminded me that I had paid $90 for the tickets and she absolutely hated for me to lose my money and suggested I see if I could get a refund for at least one ticket. I hadn’t even thought about trying to get a refund, since it is clearly printed on the tickets “No Refunds/No Exchanges”. But I walked over to the box office anyway, and said in a polite, but firm tone, “I’m really sorry, but this is NOTHING like what I expected for $30 a seat. It’s like a school play in there, and I am wondering if there’s anything you can do to refund my money?” The lady behind the counter jumped to her feet, mentioned something about how a lot of people think they’re coming to see “Lord of the Dance” (which I totally wasn't) but she’d give me my money back anyway. I didn’t want to be ugly, so I pretty much kept my mouth shut since she was, in fact, giving me a full refund. But DAMN! That show was RI.DIC.U.LOUS. And SUCH a rip-off. I’ve known plenty of Irish guys - REAL Irish guys, and I could just hear them laughing their *arses* off at all the hoards of ugly-shorts-and-sandals-wearing American tourists paying $30 bucks a head to see that crap. It really made me kinda sick to my stomach. As I walked out the door, the gentleman manning the information booth calls out to me, “Enjoy the Show!” - completely oblivious to the conversation I’d just had standing directly in front of him, and I just smiled broadly and walked out.

We went across the street and had steaks at T-Bones instead, and no doubt had a MUCH better time than had we stayed for the magic. Next year we're DEFINITELY going back to the Alabama Theater!

Character Building

Last night I walked over to the marina offices after dark, Christmas music playing on their muzak system wafting through the air. It was surreal, like something out of a depressing movie like Nick Cage’s “Leaving Las Vegas”, minus the 147 gallons of liquor . There are wreathes on the dock gates and the marina office door, but the hotel is pretty much deserted with only 2 or 3 rooms with lights on. Not a soul in sight. Yeah, it made me a little sad to be here by myself, but times like these, being alone, I’m OK with it and I know that having been alone so much of my adult life (while surrounded by tons of people) I feel like this sort of experience, not being afraid to be alone, is what has built much of my character. I finally feel like I really know myself now. It’s a good thing, knowing yourself well enough and being comfortable with your own company. But let me tell you… When I am confronted by human beings, I have really surprised myself with how nice I’ve become. As someone who takes great pride in being a Gen X cynic, being out of society’s grasp for these past 7 months I have allowed perfect strangers to engage me in conversations, and have gladly and enthusiastically lingered over a random chit chat with just about anyone who speaks to me. I am still not very good at starting a conversation with random strangers, but I certainly will say hello, good morning, etc., to anyone I see without being spoken to first. And I’ve also become more appreciative of people in general - and I genuinely take the time to speak without getting antsy like I’ve got someplace much more important to be than to chit chat with the likes of them. I am hopeful that when I re-enter the workforce I will be much more “present” with whomever I speak, and give them a lot more credit for taking the time to be pleasant - or even chatty. This slowing down, and this recognition of simple humanity - is probably the greatest gift I’ve received while taking time off from work. We just get so caught up in our day to day details of work that we truly become immune to the real meaning of “being” and I am so glad to have had the opportunity to REALLY experience it.

Back to the Beach

I’m back! Back at the beach that is! Coming to you live from the boat, and sitting perched on my lounge in my pjs, laptop appropriately on my lap, in the warm confines of my beloved Happy Place! I haven’t done much since I got here 2 nights ago, which is of course the point of being here, right? Sipping cup after cup of tea, gazing out over the water. The marina is cold and quiet. Only two other cars in the parking lot. I saw some marina folks this afternoon, they had to cut off the power to make an electrical repair on the dock earlier, but no inconvenience except that they called me this morning at 9:30 to let me know they’d be turning it off. Of course I was still asleep. No big deal, at least they called.

This afternoon I thought I’d go over to the beach to make sure it was still there, and was disappointed to find that I couldn’t walk on my favorite stretch of beach due to some heavy equipment wheeling around in the sand, laying what appeared to be pipelines for sand dredging and whatnot. Pretty interesting sight, but I would have much rather’d walking.



Tonight I was to meet up with Mom and A.Vee for a Christmas show at the Palace Theater (more on that later) so I got dressed for the first time since I’d been here but left a little early so I could go weigh in at Weight Watchers. I’m pleased to report another 1.5 lbs gone! Woot! It’s a bloody miracle given the gluttonous indulges I took part in on Saturday night at a party (more on that later too). I’m feeling pretty good, and just glad “the holidays” are almost over. This year I haven’t been much in the spirit, with only a few minor exceptions. Like watching Rudolph the other week, and tossing my quarters into the Salvation Army kettle.
I didn't even put up a tree or any doecorations. The only way you'd know it's Christmas at the house in Charlotte is by the Christmas cards I've received from friends and family. Thank you for those!

Going-Away party for Amy

Saturday night I had the bitter sweet pleasure of going to a going-away party for my dear friend Amy. She’s moving to Maryland on a transfer with the Big M Hotel Co. It’s a really big step for her, feeling like she’s finally put down some pretty deep roots in Charlotte. I can still recall when the first in a long line of hotel friends left the comfort and safety of our happily dysfunctional family, transferring to another city for a great opportunity. I was soooooooooo sad when she left, so forlorn that nothing would be the same at work. But I soon found out that it’s just a fact of life in the hotel biz that people come and go. The real test is when, 5, 10, 15 years later you’re still friends and in touch on a regular basis. Just today I have spoken to 2 friends I’ve known from other hotels, 13 years ago and 7 years ago respectively. Sadly, that original friend who was the first to leave my life, she and I did not stay in touch, but I still think of her from time to time and wonder what she’s up to.

Amy, on the other hand, is one of those lifers, and so yes, I’m sad to see her leave Charlotte, but I’m not all broken up over it because I know she will be a part of my life for a long, long time. And she’s a great texter. But we had a great time at the party, hosted by her sister Rebecca who is such a hilarious little handful in her own rite - at her KILLER new condo in Charlotte‘s 3rd Ward. We had great food and drinks including an official Wine Tasting by a real wine rep. Loved Rebecca’s Christmas Stocking - this pretty much sums her up: LOVE IT - BTW


This was my contribution, a selection of cheese and fruit including my favorite blueberry stilton!



We had all sorts of yummy-ness - including these little lovelies:


Actually there was a T-TON of food, and I hate I didn't get a picture of Allison the Wine Girl, but she was happy to take pictures of all of us, and to stay and enjoy all the girl talk going on. It was really a great party! Rebecca you ROCK for letting us all converge on your place to say our fare-wells. And Amy, I'll see you in a few weeks! Love You!!!

Kitty Bath

One night last week Kitty was out stalking mice and came back inside with something stuck to her back leg. Upon close inspection I realized she must have rolled around on the ground on top of a… worm. Said worm was stuck in her fur to such a degree that I could not just pull it off. So I thought I’d soak her leg in some warm water then - wait a minute - I’ll just give her that bath I’ve been meaning to!!!!!!!!!

And she really did surprisingly well! I filled up the sink with warm water and added the cat shampoo directly into the stream of water making a perfect Kitty Kat Bubble Bath. Secretly I think she kind of enjoyed it, but she didn’t want us to know. On the other hand, she may have just been petrified and forgot how to move, but she let me suds her up and rinse her off with a cup. Unfortunately, the rinsing was what led to her undoing, and I had to call for reinforcements from Gary to get her rinsed off as she climbed up the front of my fleece jacket and was nearly over my shoulder by the time we got her (and me) fully rinsed off. I was not able to get her head soaped up or even wet for that matter, but I’ll try the next time.



Bless her little heart - with her winter coat being so full and fluffy, soaking wet she looked like an entirely different cat. Her skinny little legs were like toothpicks, and her tail like a string - totally different from how she looks dry. I wrapped her up in a towel for a few minutes and just held her close, rubbing her little neck and shoulders trying to get her to relax… but she really preferred to do her own drying, by licking every inch of her little body. I tied to capture her funny, skinny legs, but she wasn’t much in the mood for posing.

She was completely dry within a couple of hours, and the next morning was back to being full and fluffy again. Such a good kitty!

Baltimore Bound for Wedding Bells

January 10th I’ll be attending the wedding of my friends Kathryn and David up in Baltimore! I’m so excited! I’m planning on doing a “North East Tour” on the way up and back - with stops at Dad & Connie’s, Abby F.’s, Debra’s, and Robin’s house. None of these people know I’m coming, so if any of you are reading this, SURPIRSE! : ) I’ll fill you in on the details soon!

Writing Gig!

For my three regular readers, I owe you an apology for being such a slacker over the past month or so with not having posted much of anything for sometime. Part of the reason is I just have not been inspired, what with dealing with my annual bout of S.A.D. (that's Seasonal Affectation Disorder, of course). But more importantly, I landed a real freelance writing gig - FOR PAY - so I’ve been writing A LOT lately, just not here on AYOITL. It’s been fun and I love that I don’t have to come up with topics. They give me a list and I just send them in! LOVE IT!

BOO-YA!!!!!!!

Spider Solitare Smackdown time Dad!

Check out this score!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Rain Rain Go AWAY!

For much of the two weeks leading up to coming down to the boat, it has rained. And rained. And rained. And rained somemore. For those located at points north of the Carolinas, I feel your pain with all the record snow falls. I do. But I would take snow over rain 99 out of 100 days a year.

One day I really thought we might have to go out for lumber and build an ark. Here are some pictures I took of our flooded front and back yards.

Give A Little

This afternoon I made a grocery store run for a few items I wanted for dinner. For the past couple of weeks, each time I've been to the store the same man has been standing outside ringing the Salvation Army bell and standing next to the familiar red pot. Each time I go, I make sure I have a handful of loose change so as I pass by I can greet him and put my coins - clink clink clink - in the pot. He shows sincere appreciation each time. I don't know if he recognizes me, but I've been to the store a bit more than usual in the past few weeks and I definitely recognize him.

Something unsettling happens to me when I make this small gesture. If not kept in check, I would haul off and bear hug this guy, then tearfully walk into the store and do my shopping, sobbing. Fortunately I keep it together by holding my breath and calming myself down by thanking God for everything I have and for feeling so abundantly fortunate, despite all the downs (as in - ups and downs) going on these days.

I'm pretty sure there is also a guilt component to this overwhelming emotional response I have, too. Here's this poor guy standing out in the cold or the rain ringing his bell all day long as far as I know, and I'm heading in to buy whatever amount of food I please off shelves that are fully stocked, whereupon I will take it all home and unload it on my granite counter tops and find spaces for it in our bulging fridge and cabinets. Then I will prepare this food using my expensive cookware, and eat it unceremoniously in front of the TV, without giving Thanks for a single bite of it, meanwhile there are plenty of people who will go to sleep on sidewalks and under bridges tonight IN CHARLOTTE and around the world, hungry.

I wouldn't have imagined that a few bucks in spare change slipped into a red iron pot could elicit such a huge sense of guilt and gratitude in me at the same time?

For the past few Christmases I've made donations to local and international non-profits "in honor" of a few people I would have ordinarily "bought" a present for. I've decided that I will be stepping up that effort quite a bit this year. I'm going to do this mainly because so many more people are in need this year than in the recent past, meanwhile I have just about everything I could possibly need, and then some.

People BEHOLD!!!!!!!!

I give you....



STAIRS!!!!!!



Now if we could just get those painted by next summer, that'd be great!

My New Assistant

She doesn't take dictation very well, but she's great with a mouse!

Another Favorite Christmas Special

This one's not so much for the kiddies, but I watched in awe as some of the most beautiful women in the world strutted their stuff down a runway at the newly renovated Fountain Bleu Resort (to the tune of over $1 Billion!!!!!) in Miami Beach the other night.

These women, with legs up to their armpits, knock-out boobs and perfectly tousled hair - they inspire me! Not that I will EVA be 5'11", wear a size 0 on a 36-22-32 figure - but I'd like to be as close to that as I can without having to go to the hospital.

To his credit, Gary was non-plussed by these Amazonian Goddesses catwalking and blowing sexy kisses to the audience. He was more interested in watching an episode of "Chuck" online. I, on the other hand, didn't look away for a second! Crazy.

Christmas Cheer

Last night my all-time favorite Christmas special came on TV. The endearing Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer. For my entire living memory I have watched this Christmas special every year. As a grown-up (er, groan-up) watching this felt and clay coming-of-age animated tale reveals many emotional triggers to me now. It makes me wonder if, as a child, I picked up on the themes used throughout the show: struggling with being “different”, that “going it alone” is hard, “going home” is best, and humility can lead to redemption. Or did I watch through the lens of “happily ever after” and simply sing along to all the songs. Which I know all the words to. By heart.


For the innocents who have yet to accumulate any baggage in their short sweet lives, they are likely riveted, as I most assuredly was, with the adventure Rudolph sets out on as he attempts to come to terms with his freakish, glowing red nose.

Along with Hermy, the elfin Dentist, the loner prospector Yukon Cornelius, they do battle with the scariest creature of my childhood memories - the Abominable Snow Monster, then find themselves at the behest of the great winged-lion King Moonracer, who implores them to ask Santa to find homes for all the indigent inhabitants of the Island of Misfit Toys.

Their stories are sad, pitiful even, evoking sympathy from the audience who surely, in this time of the ubiquitous Salvation Army bell-ringing, knows a little boy or girl who would simply love a Charlie-In-The-Box, a train with square wheels, an elephant with spots, a bird that swims or an ostrich-riding cowboy.

On Christmas Eve, Santa declares “We’ll have to cancel Christmas. I’ll have to tell everybody it’s off this year.” Our collective hearts sink. We revert to a child’s mentality and feel so let down, painfully, dreadfully disappointed. I mean, What on Earth will we DO if CHRISTMAS is CANCELLED?!?! Fortunately we are soon jerked to attention by the ruby glow of Rudolph’s nose as Santa has an epiphany! Christmas CAN go on despite the “storm of storms”! In an act of great humility, Santa affirms that the very thing that made Rudolph a freakish outcast among his reindeer friends, which caused him to leave Christmastown in the first place, is the one solitary thing that will save Christmas!
And our hero, Rudolph, with no trace of resentment or gloating in his voice whole-heartily obliges. Oh - and he gets the girl (Clarice) to boot! With a single tear trickling down my cheek I think HOORAY for Rudolph! Christmas is SAVED!

I recall every Christmas Eve, for the longest time, I would stare intently at the night sky outside my bedroom window when I was supposed to be going to sleep. Waiting, hoping, praying… for just a tiny glimpse of that bright glowing red nose (and of course the sound of sleigh bells would have been a major bonus). That excitement, that anticipation, was so pure. Oh to be so utterly filled with joy and innocence again.