Sunday, January 23, 2011

Tough neighborhood .

blog entry by Sampson;

There's no telling who we are going to run into down here. Any given day on the beach, we come face to face (and face to butt) with hounds, terriers and rottweilers, shepherds, retrievers and poodles. It is a veritable canine united nations out there. My sister and I are certainly among the smallest... but only in physical size. Like they say, it's not the size of the dog in the fight. It's the size of the fight in the dog. Still, you've got to know when to hold em, got to know when to fold em, got to know when to walk away, got to know when to run! as Kenny Rogers croons.

Lulu is such a mouth. She is always the first to charge at another dog on the beach, yapping, causing a fuss and then bolting back to the humans to be picked up. And where does that leave me? I mean, some of these thick headed breeds think we are rabbits to begin with. I have to put on the tough guy act, growling, circling, snapping. Usually it works...

But the other day, we met our match. This was one baaaad dog. You could tell by the expression in her eyes, not to mention her other unusual behaviors. We steered clear of this one you can be sure. I mean, see for yourself...

Monday, January 17, 2011

Something new every day

We have learned that Southerners are very precise with their language, both in word structure and in tone. For instance, if someone says "Bless yowah heart" sometimes it is a heartfelt statement of compassion or appreciation. Sometimes it means "You are nummer n' a lip full o' Novocaine"... it's all in the tone.

Some of this nations greatest orators hail from the South; politicians, pastors, radio talk show hosts, both past and present. Maybe it's something in the water. But even the "everyday man" will go to great lengths to engage in the verbal gymnastics, to attempt to add clarity to cloudy conversation.

My friend David, who is something of a mixture of sage counsel and local historian, received an email asking him to clarify the meaning of a word. Here is what he received:

Uncle David, I need your input as to the following. I figure you are the only person I know that really has the answer.
Breakfast is breakfast
Lunch is lunch
The evening meal is supper?
What is dinner? Please advise. MS

I mean, this is certainly one of the burning questions of life. We have all wrestled with this timeless conundrum and typically have allowed the question to slip back beneath the waves of conscious thought, unanswered. But that is not the SSOP (Southern Standard Operating Procedure). Here was David's thoughtful response:

"Dinner is the main meal of the day.When I grew up, Sunday dinner was around 1 or 2PM. Saturday dinner could be anytime from afternoon till dark depending on the heat of the day. Otherwise, during the week, dinner and supper were the same-the last meal of the day. So supper can be dinner-dinner can be lunch, but lunch cannot be supper although it can be dinner. Simple Y'all -D"

It has recently come to my attention that there are online courses to help people understand Southern. Perhaps you will find these useful. I know they cleared up many of my unanswered questions. Bless their hearts...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E1NsC98xVN0&NR=1

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5N1Im1xbjWQ&feature=youtube_gdata_player







Saturday, January 8, 2011

Living Deliberately


One of the good things about traveling around the country in a mini-van is that there are only so many square feet of space in the vehicle and, therefore, you must be very deliberate about what comes along and what does not. Connie is very insistent that we bring her massage table along, as I am adamant about my guitar... and of course there are the dogs, but they are not possessions. They're family. Everything else is negotiable.

Every year, as we swing through Maine, we visit the storage unit and stroll through the remaining materiality of our former lives. Things come out of the van and into storage or to Goodwill (such as our porta-potty and the double-wide screen tent.... seemed like good ideas at the time). Sometimes things come out of storage and into the van (such as the Cutco knife set and the shell lamp and shade that Connie found at a yard sale in Portland several years ago) or to Goodwill. More often, stuff of Ryan's or Katie's are added to the storage unit collection or materials flow out of storage and into their households (such as the turkey roasting pan and the Christmas decorations). We have determined that it is far more efficient, and fun, to collect any material things we may need/desire at the various locations in which we settle... from yard sales.

In Naples Florida, we picked up sun screens and beach mats. In Palm Springs, it was camping supplies; Tomales Bay, books and cookware. In Maine, I picked up a case of pickled fiddle-heads and an avocado green, 1970's era crock pot (which was left in Arlington) and in Georgia it was a charcoal barbecue grill and bicycles.

The art and the science of yard saleing is highly developed throughout the country, but the two most accomplished practitioners we have met are Jerry of Petaluma, California and David of Saint Simons Island. Both gentlemen have an uncanny ability to sense value and to immediately bond with the sellers. They have the vision, foresight and intelligence to buy, fix and sell. That said, they are quirky, amassing a "clinking, clanking, clattering collection of caliginous junk"( to quote the Wizard of Oz.)

Jerry has a collection of a dozen wheel barrows and rusted antique farm equipment scattered around the property. David has 3 or 4 vehicles, including a Jaguar, a Mercedes, a Jeep and a 1921 Excalibur, 12 cylinder, 400 HP roadster and a dozen power boats, canoes, kayaks and inflatable zodiacs. Their homes are fascinating collections of technology, trinkets and treasures discovered and collected from OPS (other peoples stuff). And it is amazing what people sell.

This morning Connie and I got up early to go yard saleing with David and Mary Helen. We were looking for another crock pot to replace the one we left with Katie and Elnur. Mary Helen made coffee, David scouted out the locations from the morning paper and Connie and I climbed into the back seat to enjoy the show.

There are two major roads on the Island, one runs north/south, the other east/west and so the procession of vehicles of Yard Sale Crusaders is a veritable parade. The faces are familiar and there is a sense of competitive comradery among them. But they often specialize. Some focus on books and DVDs, others clothing or furniture, still others are looking for art. David was scouting for building supplies this morning and, as always, fishing gear. Mary Helen sought a set of night stands. Connie wanted a very specific stainless steel slow cooker.

At the third stop we drove up to a shabby, low probability yard sale on a dead end street. The 40 year old male proprietor was wearing a fleece vest against the chilly 50 degree weather and a Georgia baseball hat. David immediately engaged him in conversation and quickly ascertained that he knew the value of his stuff and had marked items to sell quickly. There were collections of brand new neck ties, shirts in wrappers, shoes and sneakers still in the boxes. There was original island art, paintings and pencil sketches. And there was a brand new, stainless steel slow cooker. We haggled a bit on the price and settled quickly. Connie was pleased and I was headed for the car to store our purchase... when several vehicles including a police car quickly pulled up and stopped in front of the house.

Several men sprang from the first car and pointed a camera in my face. The flash went off and he announced "You have just purchased stolen property. That's my crock pot!" I froze in place expecting the cop to slap me in irons, but instead he walked up to me and said "You can keep that... it's ok." The incensed man then proceeded to run around the yard taking pictures of everything and repeating "That's mine. And that's mine!" while the Proprietor yelled "Bob, get off my property!" It was a bizarre scene and we quickly exited with our prize.

I am curious to see if my picture gets published in the Glynn County Police Beat in the Brunswick Newspaper, perhaps headlined "Crazy Yankee Caught with Hot Crock Pot". What is the criminal penalty for receiving stolen slow cookers in this state? What is this world coming to? I may next be blogging from the Milledgeville Georgia State Penitentiary for God's sake! It ain't right...

Who has more fun than people?



Tuesday, January 4, 2011

It's our birthday!

Let's toast to us! We're 11 years old and going strong, although with all this travel over the past 4 years, I've gotta say that sometimes Lu Lu seems a bit confused. Then again, she has always been a little spacey... ethereal . Actually, according to MummaLuv, our real birthday will be on 01/11/11. Yesterday she gave us both a bath so we would look good. Hope that means they are planning a party for us!

We left Maine in October and have been up and down the East Coast several times, just got back from Christmas in Arlington, Virginia with Katie, Elnur, Kristen and Ryan. Good times!! We stopped back in Saint Simons Island for a night and the weather has been so good and the people so nice that Glendog is having a hard time getting MummaLuv back in the van. He always threatens to duct tape her into the passenger seat. YEAH! Like that's gonna happen...

Besides taking rides in the van (40 states so far), we enjoy chasing things (doesn't matter what... anything that runs), treats, walks on the beach and singing. Everyone in the family has been on the receiving end of one of our singing birthday telegrams. In fact, just last week we sang to Molly in Kentucky and they taped us! It wasn't our best performance, but it will give you an idea of what remarkable dogs we truly are... if I do say so myself. So Happy New Years People and Pets! Stay healthy, eat well, exercise often and sleep at least 10 hours a day!

Licks and Wags,
Sam n' Lu