Beach Vacation, Part II Putt-Putt Putting Around...

After leaving Myrtle Beach we made a little stop over at the old homestead.  The Hubster had some work to attend to and I wanted to get a handle on our dirty laundry.  So he went to work on Tuesday (last Tuesday) and I did laundry and re-packed.

Wednesday we left for Emerald Isle.  As mentioned in an earlier post, my uncle rented a huge house for us to stay in.  Huge really doesn't describe it.  Seven bedroom, ten bathrooms-- every shower except for two had five shower heads!  The views were breath-taking and almost all were oceanfront.  The bottom floor had a movie theater in it. An. Honest. To. Goodness. Movie. Theater.   It even had real theater seats-- except they were nice and clean! 

This house even had an elevator.  I refused to ride in it, but there was an honest to goodness elevator!

The pool and the hot tub were awesome.  Everything was just awesome.  It made coming home a little sad.  But I saw my Uncle and Aunt a few days ago and they are already planning a trip for next year!

Golfin' Dolphin

We got down to Emerald Isle just before it was time for supper.  Ribs and Chops were on the menu and they were fabulous.  I wish I had some right now.  After supper we, the cousin's, the cousin's boyfriends and husbands, and friends of cousins, decided to head out for a little putt-putt.  I dont' know what it is about being at the beach that makes people want to play putt-putt?  I wasn't really game, but I tagged along.

It took two large SUV's to get us to the Golfin' Dolphin. 

Putt-Putt makes my sister very happy.

Her happiness makes her pose by trees next to artificial blue water rivers with our cousin Audrey...

And the happiness makes her pose on-top of rocks.  Now that's a keeper!

My cousin Annah strikes a very interesting pose because Putt-Putt also makes her very happy.

Some people, like Marshall, take Putt-Putt very seriously and like to keep score.

And some people, like Christian and Ashton, like to comment on every one's game. Jessica is smiling, but she is dying inside...

Putt-Putt brings people together...

And drags them apart...

It makes my cousin Michael thoughtful by large waterfalls.

Putt-Putt makes some people contemplate the world around them while posing on artificial rocks...

But Putt-Putt can be dangerous and make you bleed.  Poor Brooks!

Putt-Putt can make people pretend to fall...

All-in-all, I think Putt-Putt is good for your self-esteem.  See how happy everyone is?

And eventually, it comes to an end.

Which is a good thing, because I'm pretty sure our party offended the family behind us with all our posing and camera flashing and potty mouths.

But end the end... it was worth it!

Next Post:  Fun at the Pool

Beach Vacation, Part I Sun Stroked...

I'm a little ticked... I carried my camera and every thing ready to pop a picture of something for my blog about the first part of my beach marathon vacation... however, that didn't happen.  Nothing note worthy really took place-- other than I almost died on the beach...

Before the end of the school year I made a vow that I would read Jane Austen.  I took American Lit in college and so Jane was lost to me. My high school, a large rural school, could have never put Emma on a reading list without the uproar of several hundred deer hunters.  So on Sunday, I'm on the beach with the Hubster, his middle brother, his middle brother's girlfriend, and the Hubster's mom and dad.  I'm reading Northanger Abbey and laying out in my new mismatched J.Crew two-piece.

I took extra care not to get burned-- I lubed up on SPF 30 with double protection from the Sun's UVB rays as well as the UVA rays.  I had on my Jarrett Bay sun visor and a huge pair of sunglasses... so what could go wrong?

Sunday was especially hot, but there was a breeze and I was pretty much okay.  The men were in the water, the ladies on the beach.  Between chapters we would talk about clothes, shopping, and what we wanted to do later that night.  After a short time, a few in our party decided to go hang out at the pool.  The Hubster was still in the ocean and I was fine reading, so I didn't go with the others.  Soon it was just me on the beach with my book while the Hubster floated in the green, green water.

Occassionally, I'd look out on him and make sure he was still there, floating just beyond where the waves break, with thoughts of Shark Week still fresh in my memory.  He really loves the ocean. I tolerate it.

Meanwhile, back on the beach I'm starting to get a little hot.  I'm starting to feel a little sick too.  But I shake it off.  Afterall, I didn't eat much of anything for breakfast and I certainly had had no liquid other than a sip of the Hubster's morning Mountain Dew and a sip of his Bud Light.  I chalked up my bad feeling to the aforementioned and that I had been reading-- which sometimes makes me a little dizzy, especially if I read in bright sunlight.

Eventually the Hubster got out of the water and made his way back to where I was set up.  He laid around while I complained a little about the heat.  I had made up my mind that I wanted to leave and I was going to leave... he came with me.

And that was when I thought I was going to die.  I started seeing black spots and my legs didn't want to work.  I could feel that sick feeling sort of spread from my stomach to the back of my throat.  I was hot and my heart was beating way too fast for the amount of exercise I was putting forth-- we were just walking up some stairs, hardly any cardio at all considering the slow rate we were moving.

I was conveniced that I was going to throw-up or faint... when we stopped at the outdoor shower to rinse off the sand I bent down to center myself.  The Hubster was embarrassed-- I could tell-- and little scared as to what to do with me if I did fall dead. 

After what seemed like a long time, we made it back to the house-- which really is a very short walk.  I got some water and ate a little something and things started to get better-- at least for me to stop shaking.  Later that night we had sometime to go around to all the Wings, Eagles, and Bargain Beach Marts to look at inappropriate tee-shirts and sharks' in a jar.

I'm not sure what exactly happened earlier that day... I'm not sure if I was starting to Sun Stroke or if I just got too hot, but all I know is that I was scared and I don't want to do that again.

Today we are to go to part two of vacation.  I plan to be more considerate of myself this time around.  I'm adding hydration to my check list along with my camera and my sunscreen.

Next week I'll be back at work... the last few days of summer... better enjoy them!

Random Ramblings (The New Fist-Puming Rednecks & Naked Men in Wells)...

Tomorrow at this time I'll be on my way to the Redneck Rivera... otherwise known as Myrtle Beach.  That means about three hours before right now, tomorrow, I'll be frantically packing up myself and the Hubster.  I forgot to pack his underwear one time-- you think he'll let me forget this time?  Maybe he'll just start packing himself. 

Tonight, date night, we will be dining at Mucho Mexico with a few other friends and couples and after that my sister is going to cut the Hubster's hair.  She isn't a hair stylist by trade-- she just learned to groom dogs with my Aunt Arlene when she was in high school and says cutting people's hair isn't that much different.  She now cuts his hair, my father's hair, and her boyfriend's hair exclusively.

The Hubster wants to look, "fresh-to-death" for the beach.  We've got to stop watching "Jersey Shore."

But speaking of that little screen gem, "Jersey Shore," the Hubster and I have decided that no one can really make fun of Southern people anymore, can they?  We're all equal now.  Thanks to the power of TV all of us people in the South, who grew up thinking that we were backwards can now feel that we've been vindicated.  We know your dirty little secret UP NORTH.  How does it feel to have your own version on a Redneck? 

But I digress, tomorrow will start our first day of our annual marathon vacations.  First Myrtle Beach and then onto the Anna Victoria in Emerald Isle.

The following week I go back to work.  I am not sure how I feel about this prospect.  I neither dread it or relish it... happily I have a brand new co-worker that I'll be working with and I'm very excited.  We met yesterday for a few hours and discussed our plans for the coming school year.  I'm very pleased.

I'm hoping to come home from the beach with a good number of photos and stories.  Stay tuned.

But before I leave, I heard a very funny and unfortunately true story...

So we were at Cousin Micheal's barn enjoying a fish fry and celebrating Cousin Wayne's birthday about a week ago when one of the guests starting talking about his sister-in-law, the Sunday School Teacher. The people around this fellow were laughing and acting like they understood the whole story-- my parent's included.

I being nosey, had to find out what was funny...
So here it goes... A few weeks ago a man from Carolina Beach found himself in the lower portion of the county-- a good hour and 30 minutes from home.  He parked his Lexus on a little back road and decided to take a walk-- Naked as a jaybird, excepting the red baseball cap he wore on his head!  He would later say that he was "exploring the universe."  He walked or better yet, explored to the end of the road and made his way onto Devil's Race Track Road, where the Sunday School Teacher and her family lives and broke into her house.

How this man walked down the road naked a pretty good ways and no one said anything is still a wonderment to me, but then again, people tend to mind their business and I don't know anyone that would want to question a naked stranger man.  Do you?

So the naked man broke into the house and decided that he had to use the bathroom.  He found his way to the Master Suite where a bathroom was located-- but instead of doing his business in the proper place, he took a nice big number two right on top of the Sunday School Teacher's bed!  He used her granddaughter's stuffed animal as toilet paper.  I think he then got himself a snack from their kitchen.

Upon leaving that house he explored some more, found his way onto another road and got himself noticed when he tried to break into some more houses and a car. Eventually the police were called.  The naked man decided that the best place for him to hide was at an open well nearby.  He jumped into the well and stayed there until the police and fire crews pulled him out.  I read about the naked well man in the paper a few weeks back, but had no idea that this man had gone and done his business at someone's house.  No, that little tid-bit was left out of the papers!

While all this was going on, the Sunday School Teacher was discovering the gift left for her and when the police came to question her and take a look around that was when she made them an offer.  According to her brother-in-law she pleaded with the policeman to bring the naked man to her so she could kill him.  When the police told her that he wasn't at liberties to do such, she then said, "well then, I'll go to him and kill him at the jailhouse." I'm pretty sure she was serious too.

I can't say that I blame the woman.  Right after I burned my bedding, the mattress and the frame, I'd be casing the jailhouse myself. 

They family had to empty out their refrigerator, freezer and practically Clorox the whole entire house and probably repair where the man broke in.  Apparently this man has done this sort of thing before.  I was told that the had priors and that police were looking into his mental health.

When you think you've heard it all... 


Have a good weekend y'all!

Pretty Pink Flowers...

When I was a very little girl I knew very little of what my father's job entailed.  I knew he farmed and farmed a crop that caused him a lot of trouble.  He'd come home and talk of the suckers and clay dirt and I would think he was talking of candy and play-dough.

Turns out he was talking about tobacco.  The crop that in a very few short years I would grow very familiar with-- tobacco. 

It grows green from a very small seed that will result in a baby plant that has to be transplanted by hand from a greenhouse to the field.

The plant itself, depending on what type of soil it matures in and weather conditions, can grow to be almost taller than myself. And once it matures it shoots out this beautiful pink flower, right out the top.

As a little girl I couldn't understand why in the world would anyone want those beautiful pink flowers out of the plant.  I remember one afternoon my parents pulling into a field of tobacco and walking down the rows popping out the tops, those beautiful pink flowers, and throwing them on the ground.  I walked behind them, my sister and I, and picked up the bunches and made wedding bouquets.

How pretty they were! 

They were very pretty until it was time to go.  When I put them down, I discovered sticky hands.  My greatest fear!  I hate sticky and still do to this day.  The tar and the gum wouldn't come off by wiping my hands on my shorts.  It would take a good washing in hot water and Lava soap to rid them of that sticky residue.  I was throughly disgusted by the pretty pink flowers...

I later learned that the pretty pink flowers take away nutrients from the plant and cause the tobacco leaf to weigh less.  Since you sell tobacco by the pound, you want the leaf to have more weight, therefore the pink flowers have to come out... along with the suckers that grow between the leaf and the stalk.

a picture of a sucker on a trash pile of tobacco

To think, once, I thought that my daddy grew candy and had mountains of play dough that he wouldn't share with me!

There is a Man in India that Thinks I'm Crazy...

"Can you read?" a very rude and very heavy Indian accent flooded the end of my phone receiver.  Indigently, I replied that I could so read.  The reason for such a question was because earlier last week the Starter Pool's pump died.  And because of its demise, I was forced to call the company that makes the starter pool which evidently outsources its customer service overseas. 

I was already in a bad mood when I called because, even though the pool is still under warranty, we threw away the pump manual and no longer had the serial number that would ensure us a completely new and free pool pump.  So I wasn't happy.  And even though I wasn't overly friendly, as I generally try to be when calling a customer service hot line, I wasn't being rude either.  So I was quite gotten away with when the grumpy little voice on the other end of the line asked me if I was capable of reading!

Of course he needed the model number off the pool's pump-- which was when all the trouble started.... 
I couldn't see the number-- even though he said it was after the word "CAUTION".  I told him I could see the word CAUTION but I couldn't see a number.  The word after CAUTION was not a number and to be more specific-- the character after the word CAUTION was a colon, not a word-- but I figured that would really tick him off and so I just started reading the entire sentence after the colon to the grumpy man in India who asked if I could read.   Apparently we were experiencing a language barrier.  He should have said "under" instead of "after" because when I looked down a few lines, there was indeed a model number.

The problem was taken care of and now that the pump as arrived, all will be forgotten-- eventually.

It's that Time Again...

June was unbearably hot-- which resulted in us buying the Starter Pool.  July is upon us and at least it has brought some much needed rain along with the heat and humidity.  Summer is in full swing and that means vacations are just around the corner.

Every year we go for a couple of days with my in-laws to Myrtle Beach around the end of July.  My in-laws are the type of people that love to entertain with activities.  When we come down for a few days we end up sight-seeing, eating at very crowded chain style restaurants and shop-shop-shopping until we are literally about to drop dead-- except we still have to visit long-lost relatives that happen to live near by.  It's fun.  But it's not relaxing in the least. 

Luckily, at the beginning of August we also take a tiny break and head to Emerald Isle with my family who vacation in the most opposite fashion.  Relaxing by the pool with a drink in your hand... laying on the beach with a good book... waking up to a giant breakfasts' prepared especially for you... eating a large fabulous meal each and every night in the comfort of your PJ's... it's just the most relaxing vacation you'll ever take with a group of people.

My Uncle-- who is fabulous and owns a couple restaurants (which explains the food mentioned above)-- always rents a place for a week or so and we all go down.  This year he's rented the Anna Victoria.  We stayed across the road from it last year and lusted after it's massiveness.  He said that if we all came down for a couple of days, he'd rent it for us.

So, duh... we all agreed that we'd come down for a little bit. 

I'm not sure I'm going to want to leave!

Dressed-Down Sort of Dressed-Up...

I have a closet in my house that holds nothing but dresses. Beautiful dresses that may or may not have ever been worn.  Some were worn to parties and weddings while others have only been to work or church.  And then there are the few that have the tag still on and have never been worn nowhere.  I've got a bad habit of buying dresses with no place to wear them. 

This week I ordered a pretty little dress from Urban Outfitters.  I had a code to get 15% off and when I saw the little strapless number with the ruffles down the front and read that it was made from vintage material-- I had to get it.

It came yesterday and now I'm dying to wear it.  Tonight, I'm pretty sure that we will be going to one of our 'regular' places... Mucho Mexico.  It is not a fancy place-- just a cheap and fun place to hang out at... drink a beer and have a taco sort of place... and I want to wear this dress.

But I know when I do-- I'll hear the groans from the Hubster-- "Why are you wearing a dress?"  I'll hear the "Oh.  You dressed up" from my sister when we arrive at the restaurant--late of course.  And then I'll have to be all like, "no, this is a casual dress" and no one will understand. 

If I wore pants... or shorts... or even a skirt-- I'd not hear "Oh!  You dressed up."  But the moment you put on a dress-- you've dressed up.

And then there is men... Why is it that men wear the same thing, over and over and no one cares?  The Hubster wears the same type polo shirt over the same type chino shorts with the same type of boat shoe every where we go and no one ever cares! He's even worn this same type outfit to sort of fancy parties and no one cares because all his friends dress this way-- it's like a club or something! 

Oh the pressures of being a woman!