My Rich & Random Life

I Am a Child of Wonderful Parents

2011-09-04T15:28:00.044-04:00

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

2011-08-31T19:11:00.003-04:00

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

2011-08-30T13:27:00.001-04:00

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

2011-08-24T11:20:00.002-04:00

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

2011-08-19T21:39:00.001-04:00

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

2011-08-12T16:33:00.003-04:00

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

2011-08-03T17:49:00.007-04:00

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.

What's Eating My Citrus Tree?

2011-07-27T17:16:00.001-04:00

Have a wonderful Wordless Wednesday.

My Favorite Thing About Summer: Our Family Beach Vacation

2011-07-26T09:35:00.006-04:00

Every summer our extended family gets together for a full week at the beach. We’ve been doing this for the past decade and it’s my favorite thing about this time of year.

We’re a tight-knit clan but live in different towns and have big, full lives. So other than a quick, drive-by pre-Christmas gathering (all the kids have to sleep in their own beds on Christmas Eve so Santa Clause knows where to find them) and the occasional wedding or funeral, the annual beach pilgrimage is our only time together as an entire unit.

I love this vacation because there is no agenda, no schedule. We all just hang out for a week. We are a loud and boisterous family so there is plenty of entertainment. We’re an active family too, so there’s always somebody to swim or walk or fish or ride bikes with. And we’re a family that values conversation, so there is always an (over?) abundance of talking.

The kids are becoming little people. My brother and SIL have a 7 and an 11 year old. My sister and BIL have a 2, 7 and 11 year old. Add mom and dad and me and EC to the mix and there are 13 of us in total. That’s a house full of loud people. We love it.

There’s much I could write about this annual beach vacation and still never capture the joy of the togetherness. I don’t have the talent or the time to do it justice.

What I do have is a hope. I hope we continue to rearrange our real-life schedules and make the personal sacrifices required to allow the family beach vacations to continue. I hope we are all willing and able to spend one week together as an extended family for as long as possible.

Here is a poem the kids and I wrote on one of the beach vacations:

Stung by a Jellyfish

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This post is in participation with the Group Blogging Experience, and this week’s prompt is summer and/or my favorite thing. I combined the two. If you want to blog with us, go to the GBE2 Facebook page and request to join the group. Everyone is welcome.

Hold on, I'm Thinking

2011-07-19T19:07:00.001-04:00

Have a wonderful Wordless Wednesday.

How I Met My Husband

2011-07-12T14:36:00.003-04:00

The bakery was crowded; a line snaked through the middle of the small room. A handsome, broad shouldered, overly starched man swaggered up to the girl as she entered through the front door. “You looking for somebody?” he asked, smilingly. “Depends on who’s asking” she shot back with feigned confidence. He had a small table reserved at the back of the bakery and motioned her to follow. She complied, checking out his backside as he led the way.

They sat and had a nice chat, learning a bit about one another. His crisp clothes, sharp haircut and upright posture worried her, he looked too neat. She didn’t like men who spent too much time in the mirror. In her experience, overly handsome men could be vain and narcissistic.

She sat there politely, listening and watching as he talked with animation. Yes, she was listening, watching and wondering 1) is he going to offer me coffee and a pastry? 2) is he always this neat? 3) what’s the deal with those hands?

His hands were gnarled and scarred. It looked as if each finger had been broken more than once—in multiple places. Those hands sharply contrasted with his otherwise perfect appearance. There must be a good story about those hands.

She wanted to know more about him.

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

2 Men Have my Heart: Wordless Wednesday

2011-07-06T13:13:00.001-04:00

My husband & my dad = ♥♥

Girls Raised in the South = G.R.I.T.S.

2011-06-27T18:19:00.004-04:00

Maybe you've heard of grits the food (delicious!) but do you know about the GRITS acronym? Girls Raised in the South. That's me.

I'm from the south; born in North Carolina and now living on the coast of South Carolina. My rich and random life's journey has taken me all around the world. I've lived in many places and seen many things. Now I'm back to my roots. I'm southern born and southern bred. I'm one of the true GRITS, baby.

One of my life adventures found me and my thick southern accent <bad grammar on purpose> living in New York City and working in midtown Manhattan. I loved it. The Pakistani street vendor had a crush on me and my bagel was ready every morning when I arrived at Grand Central Station off of the 8:05 train - the Hudson River Express. (Wait, maybe it wasn't a crush... maybe he felt sorry for me, or protective of me? Maybe the sound of my voice made him laugh? Who knows. At least I got my bagel).

When I placed my order in a restaurant, a hush would fall over the crowd. Sometimes I heard giggles, snickers. I always got special attention; not many folks sounded like me up there.

Locals either thought my southern accent was charming (in a cartoonish way) or ridiculous.

Regardless of the subcategory they put me in, my accent placed me squarely in the dull category. Dull as in slow, not all there, not on the ball, not quick-minded. I won't go so far as to say I was considered dumb but, well, people had a big reaction to the sound of my dulcet tones.

Upon first meetings, (after recovering from the accent), the person would often slow their speech to match the pace of mine. As if my drawl made me hear slow! And think slow! It was all I could do not to bust out laughing. The condescension. No kidding, some people would talk to me as if I was an 8-year-old. But that was okay. I had a big job and used their low expectations to my advantage.

Did I mention how much I loved it up north? If used wisely, being underestimated can be a powerful tool.

Yep, that's how GRITS roll. Dumb like a fox.

Oh Joy, Colonoscopy Time

2011-06-17T12:52:00.000-04:00

Yep, I'm getting a colonoscopy on Monday. Because I'm not excited about the procedure, I've put off paying attention to the preparation required. Just today, I glanced at the paperwork and got a rude surprise. The paper says I'm supposed to avoid raw fruits and vegetables as well as nuts and seeds.

Yikes. I'm a vegetarian. Sure, I can eat cooked vegetables but no nuts? No fruits?

Before I even read the preparation sheet I had already broken the rules. This morning I had oatmeal loaded up with a banana (bad), blueberries (bad), and walnuts (bad).

Bad, but really, really good.

I have a fresh avocado and baby lettuce begging to be eaten for lunch today. I have half-dozen ripe South Carolina peaches on my counter and at least one was going to be my mid-afternoon snack. Nope.

I called the nice lady at the doctor's office to confess--and to see what my options are. She told me not to eat any more of the 'bad stuff' between now and Monday. Kibosh on the avocado, lettuce, peaches and all other manner of deliciousness. I politely asked her what I could eat.

Her answer was: processed foods. I'm no food freak but really? Processed foods is the answer?

Process foods = healthy colon?

Well, of course not. But that's the way it's got to be. So in preparation for my colonoscopy on Monday, I'll spend this weekend enjoying mouth-watering processed foods.

She didn't say anything about beer...

Aunt Dot, the Warrior

2011-06-08T14:49:00.007-04:00

My sweet Aunt Dot turned 80 years old yesterday. The entire family congregated for her birthday. See, this will probably be Aunt Dot's last birthday. She was recently diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer. It's also in her spine, ribs and even a spot on her liver.

Aunt Dot knew she had cancer; she claims to know what cancer feels like. If anybody would know what cancer feels like, it would be Aunt Dot. In her 80 years, she has successfully battled the dreadful disease 3 other times. This is her 4th time in the ring with this monster.

Every time cancer came knocking, it wore a new disguise. First it came in the form of breast cancer. A radical double mastectomy is hard on a 20-something gal but she's a fighter and came out on top. Cancer free for over 10 years, the insidious beast came slinking back in the form of throat cancer. Evil but curable, Aunt Dot won. Many years later, uterine cancer came for a visit. It didn't stay around long. Aunt Dot, the 95 pound warrior, fought back hard.

Cancer free for over 15 years, her life took on a slow and satisfied pace. Things were good. And now, here it is again. It makes me sad that cancer is going to be what gets Aunt Dot. It seems cruelly unfair.

This is what sweet, brave Aunt Dot says about it:

I'm not afraid to die. I've had a long and happy life. How long do you expect me to live, Langley? If it's not cancer, it'll be something else. Something else soon. Everybody is going to die and I'm not afraid. I just don't want to hurt. Now let's have some fun.

So really, cancer is not winning. Aunt Dot is the ultimate winner. Her final days will be filled with love, family and friends.

Her positive outlook and plucky attitude make an indelible impression on everyone she knows. She is an inspiration. Yes, Aunt Dot will live on in our hearts and our memories for as long as we breathe.

True Friends

2011-06-07T11:01:00.002-04:00

"It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

And so we were. Stupid may be harsh, but we sure were silly with each other.

A few weeks ago my oldest (um, length of time we've known each other...) friend preformed a one-woman show in front of thousands. She's a pro, in fact we met in the theater department in college (Appalachian State University - go Mountaineers) and continue a lifelong friendship. The night was big for her, and several old friends traveled to see the show and offer support. It was a blast, she wowed the audience. In addition to the joy of hearing Starr sing, I got to see a handful of friends I have not seen in over 20 years (don't bother doing the math, we're old).

Starr, my singing friend, earns a nice living with her voice. She has a second home at the beach near my house. As things work out sometimes, she is at her beach house this week. Another friend from the ASU theatre department came through town with her husband last night. The first time I've seen Kim since college was at Starr's show. Now I had an opportunity to see her (and her wonderful husband, she picked a good one) again in less than a month. Happily, we managed a dinner together. It was hilarious. And heartwarming. True friendship is when you can pick back up, right where you left off, no matter how much time has passed.

I am blessed with true friends.

Welcome to My Blog

2011-06-07T10:15:00.001-04:00

One year ago I started my first blog. I used WordPress because, well, I don't know why. I just did. Days later, I started what I thought would be an experimental blog on Blogger. Experimental because I was just dipping my toe in, learning by doing. Opinions vary wildly so I reasoned that blogging on both platforms would force me to choose which fit me better.

After a year, I can say that I like Blogger better. You can read about all the reasons here, if you care... WordPress vs. Blogger, the Conclusion.

Since that time, I've freshened up my original, experimental Blogger blog and given it a niche: Langley Writes About Writing.. The feedback has been tremendous. So much so that I started another niche blog on Blogger: Hearts in Fur Coats.

And I abandoned my WordPress Blog, which makes me sad(ish) and leaves me in a quandary. Sad(ish) because I wrote a lot about my family ♥ and want those stories and memories to stay published (if just for us). In a quandary because I want to write about things that don't fit into a writing blog or a pets blog.

Welcome to my solution. I'm moving my WP blog over here. I'm littering Blogger with yet another random, niche-less blog. A catch-all, mixed-bag, (insert your own cliche) blog that will cover all manner of drivel.

So, to make this intro post mind-numbingly long (and further indulge myself), I'm including the text from my very first post:

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Hello World

Hello world is an appropriate enough beginning, so I think I'll leave it at that. In fact, it bears repeating. Hello world! It's about time I got into this blogging business. I've got a lot to say and you *might* find some of it interesting. If not, let me know. All feedback is appreciated and I know I can learn from what you have to say.

So this is me jumping in. This is a blog about my rich and random life. I say rich because the opportunities and experiences in my life have exceed my wildest dreams. I say random because the opportunities and experiences are so varied that the only way to describe them is random.

A college professor once told me:

"Langley, you're pretty good at a lot of things but not great at any one thing. People who are only good at one thing have an easier time in this life. Their path is clear. You'll have tough choices to make."

That's pretty heavy to say to a college kid. At the time, I really didn't get what she meant. Was that an insult, a compliment or simply an observation? Now that, um, several years have passed, I know exactly what she meant. And it was an insightful observation. Because I am pretty good at a lot of things, I've done a lot of things, which results in a rich and random life.