We drove to Charleston for the weekend. We have friends who have a house on the beach there (O…it’s good to know People!) and they’d invited us, knowing full well the stress Terry’s been under and assuming I’d been under some too…good, intuitive and perceptive people. Terry used to work for Bill (he was laid off due to poor market conditions, it was completely understandable and no hard feelings, and we’ve remained friends), and he (Bill) had some very sound advice for Terry and his difficult working conditions. Even if we’d been staying at the No-Tell Motel it would have been worth the trip. However, Bill’s house on the beach was posh and comfortable and a solid 20 yards from the sand and surf, WITH a deep porch and wet bar (well stocked) that came with Todd, who was most willing to keep the rum-and-lemonade glass full. So we could sit in the shade under a fan while watching the children (4 of them ranging from 15 to 11) hurl each other around in the (chilled!) pool or in the Atlantic.
Like I told Terry: “I don’t want to be People, but it sure is nice to know People.”
Sunday morning, Terry and I were up before everyone else, and enjoyed a cup of coffee on the back porch while watching the ships and the sun come up.
After breakfast, Terry and I took Eli to Patriot’s Point, where the USS Yorkshire is docked and open for touring. It was pouring rain, which was FINE because the alternative would have been an oppressive August heat. So we got soaked, but it was Not Hot. Since none of us are made of sugar, we weren’t going to dissolve, tho the weather sure tried.