That’s how we pronounced “TIE-erd” around here in the Deepest South. You know, fatigued (Dad says “fat-a-gewd” because he also says “horse doovers” for those little snacks you eat at parties.)

Yesterday was wonderful. A friend contacted me at the last minute and wanted to know if I’d go to Charleston with her. Since the alternative was pulling weeds, it seemed sensible. We saw a friend who’s husband was in the hospital, and the tiny Charleston cottage where she’s staying, courtesy of some other folks, probably a former carriage house. Land sakes that town is full of charm, beauty, and phenomenal window boxes. I hear it even has an old school cocktail hour, where people dress nice and walk around to other peoples houses and drink Old Fashioned and Mint Juleps and the like. The men wear straw fedoras and seersucker suits (that’s all you can wear there, because it’s hot), and the women wear Lily Pulitzer dresses with kitten heeled slides and elegant scarves. We weren’t there for cocktail hour but we did see the amazing garden/yard things.

See, Charleston has these houses and the Thing about them is they’re all gated and fenced with elegant brick walls or iron fences full of jasmine or yaupon and the like, carefully groomed and the yards behind them are unbelievably gorgeous, like a magazine.

gates:  The place is full of stuff like this.

Anyway, we walked about 300  27  ok 1.2 (but I’m in terrible shape so I went slow and enjoyed the scenery ) miles from the adorable carriage house cottage-behind-a-gate into town, past many other beautiful houses and shops and such to a restaurant called Magnolias, received amazing service from a young man named Scott, and ambled back past a church (I forget the name, there’s about 100 Fine Olde Churches in that town) that we went into and marveled at the woodwork and stained glass (and air conditioning).

After visiting with the friend and hospitalized husband, we took the long way out of town to look at The Battery, all the incredible window boxes… seriously. Charleston takes it’s window boxes Very Seriously Indeed.

Very Seriously.

I’d been to Charleston before, but not beyond shopping on King Street. Spending the day with a couple of friends who knew their stuff was worthwhile, especially since it meant not pulling weeds.

Which got done today. Because Lily, my 14 year old brown and unbelievably stupid (but sweet natured) dachshund decided 4am was an appropriate time to start barking. Anytime she starts doing something other than laying on the floor or snooping around the back yard, she gets stuck in a mental feedback loop and won’t stop until someone stops her by getting her attention. This includes barking, scratching, drinking water, turning in a circle to lay down, or licking her left foot. I have had her examined for physical problems like kidney issues (for the thirst), skin stuff (scratching) and she is perfectly healthy but probably has canine dementia. Since she still goes to the potty outside without being reminded, and seems perfectly happy, I’m not concerned about that, but the 4am barking happens about once a month and annoys the hell out of me, because the only thing that stops it is letting her out of the crate. Which is downstairs from the bedroom I’m in. So I let her out, went back to bed (with earplugs). This was about 4:05. At 4:20, one of the cats got in my face and started yowling. The bedroom door was closed (but not latched). I muttered a foul imprecation and put her out. at 4:35, the other cat yowled in my face, wanting out. The door at this time was open. Another imprecation, this one stronger than the first, and I lightly punted her out the door.  I proceeded to count to about 1000, attempting to go back to sleep, and failing. At 4:50, I sighed, scratched the (nonbarking, well behaved) dog on the head, and got up. 3 cups of coffee and a sigh of resignation later (this being around 7), I went outside and pulled weeds for about 1-1/2 hours. The garden is mostly ready now for Fall planting, I got nice and sweaty and aromatic, and, of course, the dogs are sleeping peacefully.

I want a nap. I took a lovely cool shower with Dr. Bronner’s and the personal aroma has become more pleasant. A big glass of water and a bowl of yogurt with nuts and berries satisfied the inner health-queen, but ye gads I need a nap. #4 is still peacefully asleep because he’s a Teenager. I have a thing to go to in an hour and if I fall asleep now I may miss it.

Ooh! Tonight I have plans to get the much desired blue streak in my hair! Yes indeed! I have a silver streak in the front (the rest is kind of a steely-ash color) that is going to be a semi-permanent (that is, 2 months or so) cobalt blue because dadgummit I CAN. I have long told my kids that the time to experiment with the hair is when you’re in college and not yet looking for the professional work, so I’m going to do just that thing. I’ll let you know how that turns out.



About rootietoot

I do what I can.
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2 Responses to Tarred

  1. jerseechik says:

    I wish something would annoy the hell out of me, but God! There’s still so much of it in my innermost parts.

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