I Am a Child of Wonderful Parents

I am from what the media calls a traditional family. My brother, sister and I grew up in a loving and humble household with both of our biological parents. Our wonderful biological parents. 

According to the Washington Times, families consisting of a married couple with children under age 18--traditional families--have not been in the majority since 1967, but we never knew that.

Mom & Dad, back in the day

Giant bonus points for the fact that my parents are open-minded and all-inclusive. We mixed it up with every type of person, every type of family unit. We hosted foreign exchange students from various countries. When kids weren't getting along with their own parents, they’d crash with us until the storm blew over. Our house was the holiday go-to place for people who didn’t have anywhere else to go. Our doors were open to anyone at any time.  My parents always had food, jokes, an empathetic ear, a warm make-shift bed or a funny story to share with whomever needed it. We never gave any thought to differences, to privilege, to haves and have-nots. We were blissfully unaware.

I don't mean to give the impression that it was all Ozzy and Harriet at our house, it wasn't. My siblings and I gave my parents plenty of trouble growing up. We're all strong-minded, opinionated and curious. It couldn't have been easy for them. Still, they doled out the right amount of discipline mixed with respect and love. We always knew they were in charge.     

Mom & Dad now

It’s only when I went away to college that I realized how different my parents were, that we were in the minority. We still are; my mom and dad recently celebrated their 52st anniversary. Here's a poem I wrote to honor their wedding anniversary: Anniversary Poem.

My brother and sister are both happily married with families of their own, doing their part to keep the traditional family going. 

Even though we've scattered, we take every opportunity to congregate as a family unit. We do it out of love and also out of fun. We genuinely have fun together. Loud, raucous, unrestrained fun. Those of you who know us *in real life* could probably tell some tales! 

Yep, I am a child of wonderful parents.

Apparently I write about my family a lot. If you want to read more:

My Favorite Thing About Summer: Our Family Beach Vacation

A Father’s Day Poem for Dad

A Mother’s Day Poem for Mom

On Being Raised by a Boy Scout

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This post is in participation with the Group Blogging Experience, and this week’s prompt is children and/or parent(s).  If you want to blog with us, go to the GBE2 Facebook page and request to join the group. Everyone is welcome.

Stormy Weather Erodes Folly Beach

Hurricane Irene caused severe damage to our beach, completely eliminating parts of the shoreline. Even though she just skimmed by us, large storm swells destroyed sea turtle nests that were ready to hatch. Sand dunes are so battered that sea water flows into parking lots at high tide.

The ends of the island took the brunt of Irene’s force. On the west end of Folly, the County Park took the hardest hit. The park is still without water and power. High waves pushed water under the park building and flooded the parking lot. The boardwalk collapsed into splinters. For now, Folly Beach County Park is closed. 

The east end of the island—toward the Morris Island Lighthouse—was damaged as well. The last public access and parking lot is blocked and houses that surround the area are on ‘limited access,’ which means homeowners can come in to make repairs but are not allowed to rent the houses to vacationers. 

We walk our dog on Folly Beach every night. It’s heartbreaking to see the damage Hurricane Irene caused. Since the storm, we have to plan our walks around the tide table because it’s impossible to walk the entire beach when the tide is rising. Even though parts of our beach are washed away, we know it could be so much worse.

I hope our friends on the northeast coast are recovering. 

Read more about our Hurricane Irene Adventures.

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This post is in participation with the Blogging for Fun group, and this week’s prompt is stormy weather. If you want to blog with us, go to the BFF Facebook page and request to join the group. Everyone is welcome.

Sell Already, Damn House

I am abundantly blessed. The word prompt for this week’s Group Blogging Experience is longing and when I search my heart, there’s not a lot of longing going on in there. I’m happy with what I have, I love the people in my life and I’m creatively stimulated by what I do for a living. I’ve tried to think of a deeply meaningful and profound way to approach the subject; maybe a patriotic post about longing for world peace, or a direct post about longing for a robust economic recovery, or a haunting post about longing for a lost lover…

Fail.

The only thing I am REALLY longing for is a new house. The house we live in has been on the market for 3, yes, 3 years. 3 years! We want to downsize our house and upsize our yard. We want to scale down, simplify. We want to organize our life to where my husband can retire soon. But we can’t sell this damn house.

Here’s why it’s bugging me to the point of distraction:

Strangers want to enter our house at a moment’s notice

We live in our house, it’s not a showroom. We have a cat and a dog that live here too. We’re not slobs but we’re not top notch, everything-in-its-place-at-all-times kind of people. When we get notification of a showing, I drop everything and clean like a maniac for as much time as I’m given. It’s mayhem.

At the advice of our realtor, we de-cluttered and moved personal things

The family photos, framed kid’s artwork, craft projects and cool stuff are rotting in the basement; most of it is ruined by the extreme weather shifts. We never dreamed the good stuff would languish in the basement for 3 years! It’s sad.

I want another dog

Yeah, I know. But I do, really badly. We have no yard here and we’re trying to sell the house so it just doesn’t make sense. The timing is off. Still, I want to rescue another dog, and I have for the last 3 years. We’ve always said we’d get a friend for Frosty when we moved. I’ve been waiting for a long time. It’s maddening.

I could keep writing about this but I don’t want to be a complete downer. For those of you in our predicament, I wish you swift and good luck. For those of you that pray, please send up a few. If praying is not your thing, please light candles or dance naked or do that manifest thing or send positive thoughts, mojo, juju, or anything else that may help.

I am longing to sell this damn house.      

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This post is in participation with the Group Blogging Experience, and this week’s prompt is longing. If you want to blog with us, go to the GBE2 Facebook page and request to join the group. Everyone is welcome.

Hurricane Irene is Growing Wild

My cousin, my mom and I are having a girl’s weekend at the beach. We’re mourning and celebrating the life of Aunt Dot—and having a big time. One thing we’re not doing is keeping up with the news.

If it wasn’t for Facebook and telephone calls, I wouldn’t know that Hurricane Irene is coming to the coast of North Carolina and South Carolina. So whether I stay at Ocean Isle Beach, N.C. or go home to Charleston, S.C., I’ll likely face an angry tropical storm, or worse.

Hurricane Irene is growing wild; she’s up to a Category 3 storm with 125 mph maximum sustained winds.

Over the telephone, my husband and I made plans; we try to have a week’s worth of supplies on hand when a storm is coming—enough to get us through a week with no electricity. He’s going to find candles and matches, our transistor radio, flashlights, and batteries. He’ll also get our canisters of propane filled, get a full tank of gas in his car and get cash.

I went to the grocery store here on OIB for basic canned food that can be eaten hot or cold. I also got peanut butter, fresh fruit, bread and water. We’ve already got enough dog food and cat food at home.

For now, my plan is to drive from Ocean Isle Beach, N.C to Charleston, S.C. tomorrow morning. When I get back to Charleston, we’ll fill the bathtubs with water and canvas the outside of the house. We’ll bring outdoor furniture, potted plants, yard art (not that we have any, ha) and anything else that can go projectile inside. 

So we’re as ready as we can be. If the storm continues to grow wild, on into a Category 4, we’ll hit the road and travel west. Wish us luck.

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This post is in participation with the Group Blogging Experience, and this week’s prompt is growing wild. If you want to blog with us, go to the GBE2 Facebook page and request to join the group. Everyone is welcome.

 

Happy Birthday to Me

I had a birthday. It was a good one.

Last year on my birthday, I helped my best friend bury her husband--who was also a dear friend of mine. It was a tragic, heartbreaking day.

This year my husband made sure the day was special. During breakfast, he announced he was taking the day off so we could do anything I wanted to. It was my day.

We went to all my favorite places and did all my favorite things. We had a blast. All through the day, he had small gifts planted in unusual places. 

My guy is not Lance Romance, mind you. He's not the guy that plans extravagant galas to celebrate my birth (or our anniversary or anything else for that matter). But it's the little things that make my heart go pitter-pat; our desire to spend unplanned time together, to spontaneously see where the day takes us, to simply enjoy each other's company.

It's the joy I see in his face when he knows he's making me happy. And he knows how to make me happy.

Wine + chocolate + nuts + candles + a Stephen King book  = a great birthday. Thanks, baby.

The Bittersweet Vacation

Today is the last day of our annual beach vacation. It’s a once-per-year tradition that I cherish. My extended family is a riot and we don’t spend enough time together.

The reason it’s been a bittersweet vacation is because my mom’s sister—my sweet Aunt Dot—passed away during the week. Mom would not leave Aunt Dot’s side so she didn’t start the vacation with us, which seemed odd. Our annual family congregation is the high-water mark of Mom’s year; she says she’s never happier than when all her chickens are under one roof.

It was weird, being at the beach trying to have fun while Aunt Dot was suffering and Mom was with her. Yet Mom insisted we continue with the annual pilgrimage. She insisted we come to the beach and make merry. She didn’t want to let anyone down, especially her grand-kids, so we came without her.

After 2 days, Aunt Dot died. My brother, my sister and I made the car ride from the beach to her funeral. Anticipating this possibility, we had tucked funeral clothes into our bags, right next to our bathing suits and beach towels.

The drive to the funeral is the only time I can remember being alone with my siblings, just the 3 of us, as adults. It was a special time, which added to the complexity of contradicting emotions.

Once we arrived at Aunt Dot and Uncle Jerry’s house, we were greeted by distant relatives that we only see at weddings and funerals. I know that’s fairly typical of big families but it would be nice to see them more often.

After the funeral, visitation and family gathering, the sibs and I made a late night road trip back to the beach. Mom and Dad joined us the next day, so by Wednesday we were all together.

I’m waxing nostalgic because that’s how I feel. It was a wonderful and sad and hilarious and frenetic and heartwarming and heartbreaking week.

We’re already planning next year.   

If you want to know more about our summer vacations -

My Favorite Thing About Summer: Our Family Beach Vacation

Here are posts about my Aunt Dot and her courageous battle with cancer -

Aunt Dot, the Warrior 

Waiting on Death, Celebrating Life 

Waiting on Death, Celebrating Life

My instincts tell me not to write this. I don't want to be maudlin nor do I want to appear insensitive but we are waiting on death. My Aunt Dot is dying; her transition will be any day now. She has squared off with the monster for the last time, and now she is going to a place where there is no indignity or pain. 

She has buried two of her own children. Now it is her turn. 

In one of our many frank discussions, I asked Aunt Dot if she thought she would see her kids or my grandparents (her parents) when she died. She said she's not sure but she hopes so. We speculated about that possibility, and what the Bible says about dying. We talked about God and Heaven. She told me that if she does get to see and recognize people up there, she'll find a way to let me know. She said she would send me a sign and I would know what it was about.    

The spunk this resilient lady displayed throughout her life is inspirational. Her matter-of-fact way of living, and now dying, is uniquely Aunt Dot.

Joyously, our family got together to celebrate her 80^th birthday recently. I wrote about her the next day. Aunt Dot, the Warrior.

I will not be able to write about her again, not anytime soon. My heart is heavy. Waiting on death is a terrible thing. Instead, we will celebrate her life--now and always.

Aunt Dot recently became a great-grandmother. The circle of life.

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This post is in participation with the Group Blogging Experience, and this week’s prompt is instinct. This is the best I could do under the circumstances. If you want to blog with us, go to the GBE2 Facebook page and request to join the group. Everyone is welcome.