Monthly Archives: October 2008

Catch Up

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I’ve been out of the loop for about two weeks.  I feel like I’m at a party but not in the gossiping circle.  Ah well, I’ll catch up over the next few days.  I hope that all of you are doing grand.  I’m much better thanks to meds and a peppy attitude.

This evening, I decided to go out on the town and celebrate.  Celebrate what?  Anything, really.   :)

I had to make a quick stop at the store for a few bare essentials.  While in queue with my two items, I caught a glimpse of the woman clerking behind the counter. 

A brunette with tints of gold intermingling with a dark chestnut mane falling to her waist.  Our eyes met, both blue, and a mutual smile overtook our faces.  I chortled and she turned to ring up the person in front of me.

A few moments later, I stepped up to the plate.  She smiled, I smiled and asked how she was doing.  We talked and smiled like two blabbering idiots. 

I kind of got lost in the bright lights and lost track of time.  The bloke behind me cleared his throat and moved to another clerk.

“Three, ninety-nine”

“Really?”  I enquired whilst smiling.

“Yes, really”, she responded whilst laughing.

I pulled out a wad of cash and flipped through the 100’s, 50’s, and 20’s to find a 5 dollar bill.  She watched me intently, as I flipped through the money.  She licked her lips and started making gestures that any idiot could pick up over the age of ten. 

Whilst still grinning from ear to ear, I paid her in full.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”  She asked whilst smiling and leaning over the counter.

“Nope, not at this particular second”, I replied, as I held up my bling bling Swiss watch.  (I’m terrible, I know.)

“Here…Here, let me give you my number”, she said whilst looking around for a pen.

At that particular moment I noticed a wedding band on her ring finger.

With rosy cheeks and the cutest smile, she handed me the number.

“I’m afraid I can’t take this”, I muttered whilst handing it back to her.

“Why not?”  She pleaded, as her smile transformed to a scowl.

“That ring on your finger.”

“Oh that….I’m gettin’ a divorce…he…he treated me like dirt”, she answered whilst fiddling with the plain gold wedding band.

“I’m proud of ya, but as much as I’d like to take you out, I can’t ‘til you at least get separated.”

“Why?”

“It’s called a gentleman’s code of honour.”

“Oh, I like you”, she yelled, as she leaned over within Eskimo kissing distance.

She stuffed her number down my coat pocket, and said, “You’re going to need this".

I looked around to discover an older gentleman behind me motioning and giving me a winking thumbs up.

Most men in these parts wink to show approval.  I never have figured out why.  It’s just one of those southern attributes, I reckon.

Anyhow, I said bye and left.  I went downtown and ran into some old friends and had a blast.  I could not get that chick out of my head though.  Sometimes my code gets in the way. 

Should I have asked her when she got off of work?  Hmm….

Odds are I’d get busted and have a maniac husband chasing me around with a gun.  That’s my father’s job.  I play it cool. 

I over analyse everything.  I wondered while driving downtown whether it was the money, the bling bling, or just me that she liked.  I’m trying to learn to live in the moment.  It’s hard to do for a person who naturally observes the social intricacies of humanity.  I’m workin’ on it though.  :)

New pictures and post coming very soon. 

Camp Greenville Pond

Feverish Hilarity

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Many apologies to the lot of you.  I am such a terrible host to my readers and Google researchers.  I do have a valid excuse though.  I’ve been very…very sick since Monday.

About 3AM Tuesday morning, I awoke unable to catch my breath.  I gasped for breath but was unable to get any air to my lungs.  In a panic, I fell out of bed and slammed my head against the frigid oak flooring of the bedroom.  In the pale moonlight, I frantically searched through the drawers of the bedside table, only realising that my emergency inhaler was in the kitchen.

Still, I could not get any oxygen to my lungs.  I felt as though I was breathing through a straw, if something that large.  I rolled over, still surrounded by bedding, and crawled hastily towards the kitchen.  For every few feet that I’d advance towards the kitchen, I’d have to stop and pant and wheeze and cough.  After a few minutes, I finally made my way across the cold charcoal grey slate tiles that I had laid myself. 

On hands and knees, I found the inhaler in the cupboard.  I used it several times, until I was able to catch my breath enough to stand.  While shaking from adrenaline and fright, I clutched the thermometer and proceeded to take my temperature.   “103.4”, it beeped and read, as I swayed from side to side and laughed. 

While trying to pour water for tea, I observed the morning dew settling on the windowsill with a blueish hue.  I put the water on to boil and picked some parsley from the flowerpot next to the window.

“You will not defeat me today or any other, Asthma”, I slurred whilst chewing on the herb and laughing and wobbling.

Overtaken by fever, I crashed to the slate tiles.

Hours later, I was awakened in a cold sweat by the mobile chanting its rhythmic tune.  I struggled, falling twice, whilst pulling myself to the counter.  My head was pounding its own rhythmic tune, as I answered the phone.

It was my Uncle checking up on me.   He could tell that I was in bad shape over the phone, so I was rushed to the doctors.  They poked and prodded and asked questions.  After a quick examination, the doctor over my case, a  comely lady doctor, tried her best to convince me to go to the hospital.  I didn’t budge from my stance.

Ten years ago, I went into the hospital because of an atrocious asthma attack, and on several occasions, I almost came out in a box.  Hospital doctors treat their patients like lab rats, trying this and that, not caring of the consequences.  In fact, I know doctors that take bets on who will kill over next.  What ever happened to the Hippocratic oath?

I convinced the doctor that I could mend myself and would be much better off without the hospital accountant sticking it to me.

Tis now Friday morning, and I am much better.  I reckon I’ve coughed up both lungs and a few other unmentionables, but I’m doing a lot better.  I tried to write on Wednesday, Blog Action Day (BAD acronym for such a good cause), but was unable due to constant coughing and hacking. 

It is strange and ironic that I needed the emergency inhaler that I almost threw away a few days before the incident.  I’ve not had a severe attack in years, so I thought that it was a thing of the past.  There was nobody to blame except myself.  I knew that I was highly allergic to ragweed and that October is the worst month for it here, yet I chose to work around it everyday.  I felt terrible Monday but brushed it off as just a bad day for the old nose. 

It’s funny how the tiniest, even microscopic, things can take us down.  We should respect/fear nature far more than our fellow man.  But, wherever there is something to harm us, there is something to heal us. 

That’s enough ramblin’ from me folks.  I’m off to catch up on some sleep.  Have a grand Friday and weekend all.  I leave you with the most uproarious man on the planet.  He really missed his calling as a comedian.   :)

Phoctober 10/10/08

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It is amazing how time flies.  Thanks to Absolute Vanilla, I got involved in Phoctober last year.  After posting photos almost the entire month of October and receiving a great response, my entire direction changed.  I had always loved photography, but I hadn’t realised until that experience how much I truly loved transforming an ordinary shot into something else altogether.  And, I realised how enrapturing the art of capturing a moment in time can be.  It was a grand experience that changed my life.

So, I implore each of you to take part in this years Phoctober over at Moon Topples.  It may change your life.  If not, you’ll atleast come away from it with knowledge of other cultures and possibly new blogmatey’s.

For my first entry, albeit late, I give you Furman University.  These shots were casually taken while walking around the pond and belltower. 

More photos to come on the morrow.

Lonely Bench Fountain at Furman Rose Garden at Furman Furman Reflexions Furman Sunset duckies Timely Reflections

CoffeeHouse Cara

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While sitting in the local coffeehouse this evening drinking a Guinness, I noticed a ravishing brunette at the table next to me.  She was talking to a curly haired blonde across from her about our fair city, when I overheard her say that she was going to Co. Kerry, Ireland for the holidays with the family.

Immediately, I lit up like I always do on the rare occasion that I meet someone from Ireland or the UK. 

“Pardon me, might I ask you a question?”  I asked with a uniquely enthusiastic tone to my voice.

“Ah, go fer it, as long as it’s not to marry me, for I’m already taken, ye see”, she laughingly replied whilst showing off her ring.

“Are you from Ireland?"  I asked, as I moved to the chair closest to them being careful not to spill my Guinness.

“I’m a Charleston girl, but my parents moved over from Ireland in the 50’s.”

“Really?”

“Yep, are you Irish yourself?”  She enquired, while her friend went to the bar to order another drink.

“Ah no, my ancestors are from County Mayo and County Down”, I answered whilst sipping me beer.

“Well you could of fooled me”, she said with amazement.

“Ah well, I have friends in Ireland and I’ve been a few times”, I muttered whilst smiling.

“Your accent is something else boy.  It’s like a cross of a Southern accent and a…ehm…Downpatrick accent”, she enounced, while waiting on her fresh glass of Harp to settle.

“Well, at least it is not a D4 accent”, I laughingly muttered.

Her friend sat curiously silent, while we laughed and went on about D4.

“So, what do you do for a living?”

“Nope, I want to know more about you”, she replied, whilst crossing her arms.

“Okay, I’m a photographer and a wee bit of a poet”, I replied whilst blushing.

“Are you now?”

“Indeed.”

“Well then, I see you’re not wearing a ring, but I’m reckonin’ that ye got a girlfriend, don’t ya?”

“Nope, I haven’t quite gotten over the last one.”

“Well what’s wrong with ya…are ya not good under the covers?”  She whispered whilst giggling.

“I can assure you that isn’t the problem”, I muttered whilst spilling my stout.

“Can you now?”

(I laughed.)  I love banter!

Perfect, I’ve got the perfect gurl for ya”, she said whilst turning to her friend whose cheeks and ears were glowing red.

“I’ve got to get some air”, her friend said, as she got up and walked away.

“Don’t mind her, she’s just bashful.”

“Back to my first question then, what do you do for a living?”

“I teach youngsters how to play the fiddle, along with playing it, of course”, she kindly answered with enthusiastic charm.

“Brilliant, I’ve always wanted to learn how to play the fiddle.  I can play the harmonica and the dulcimer”, I hollered, as my eyes ignited with delight.

“Dulcimer, really?”

“Yep, my grandmother taught me when I was a lad, although I’ve not played in years.”

“Ah the Dulcimer is a delightful instrument born in Appalachia…Tis sad that so few people know how to play it these days”, she said, as we raised our almost empty glasses to it.

“So, where is your family from in Ireland?”

“Yer not marrying me, you’re marryin’ ‘er”, she drunkenly hollered motioning for her friend and winking at me.

Her friend stomped off to the restroom and we chatted for another hour about Ireland, family, and what not.  Her friend got so drunk that she finally didn’t care what was said.  I went on about my family, plans, and future trips.  She told me to come to Charleston, for I would have better chances there.  I frequent that coffee shop quite a bit, but it was the first time that the craic was flowing as well as the beer.