The term, ‘binge watching,’ has been around for quite some time which probably explains why Paul and I have just begun embarking upon it.
You see, we’re rarely ‘on trend.’
Evidently, our omnipresent red clay just ain’t good enough and so we are now importing dust. A 4,000 mile long plume, whipped up by storms across the Saharan desert, visible from space, is now heading to the southeastern coast of the U.S.
For the life of me I can’t imagine how it would feel to have the street directly in front of my driveway, along with our farm’s sign and even nearby street signs, defaced with obscene and intimidating language designed to torment my family. And yet that is what happened last weekend to a community in our immediate area.
Let me tell you what happened at the Dollar store the other night.
After stepping back into the parking lot with my yellow plastic bags, I stopped abruptly as I noticed the rear wheel of Paul’s Hyundai was flat.
“You got a flat!” hollered Ann, the manager, from the doorway.
Remember how, when we were little kids, many of us wanted to grow up to become astronauts? Then life happens and safer, earthborne options seem more obtainable: law school, nursing, teaching, engineering…stand-up comedy.
You may have seen the charming video making the rounds this week of a senior English clergyman—Robert Willis, the Dean of Canterbury, actually--delivering his online morning prayer from a place we Anglophiles cherish: his outdoor garden, on a stout wooden chair, cup of tea (with saucer!) at his side.
Every time it rains this hard my mind flits back to the early 90’s when Paul, in the first blush of our relationship and also probably eager to get me to shut up, agreed to taking a horseback riding vacation through the southwest area of Ireland.
It’s odd, isn’t it, that truism that ‘celebrities die in threes,’ as recently, we’ve witnessed the passing of three greats within the entertainment industry: comedian Jerry Stiller, Roy Horn, of Siegfried and Roy, and both preceded by the iconic Little Richard.
Cleaned out the garage? Check.
Gone through the closet to make a donation of rarely worn clothes? Check.
Jigsaw puzzle completed? Yawn. Weeks ago.
You learn a lot about people as you wait in line at the dump.
Killing the engine and leaning back in the seat of the truck, Paul’s gaze fell over the man—and it’s always a man, you rarely spy a woman at the dump-- a few vehicles ahead of us.
317 Trade Street Greer, SC 29651
Phone: 1-864-877-2076
