Diana, formerly of Blue Ridge Gal, now of Snappy Finger, has scheduled a local bloggers meet up for September 26 at 12 p.m. at Franks Pizza on Alt. US 220. That's near the BAC and the pharmacy and across the street from the Eye Care place.
We had a local bloggers meet up in April and it was quite fun, so I do hope you will plan to attend if you're in the area.
Expect good food, lots of laughs, and a chance to put a face to the blogs you read regularly.
Do come.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Saturday, September 12, 2009
My new endeavor
On October 24 I will launch a new endeavor. I am offering a workshop on the business of making money with words and pictures. It will be from 9 - 12:30 p.m. at the Fincastle Library in Fincastle and will cost $50. No pre-registration necessary.
What makes me qualified to do this? Well, if money is the measure of success (I happen to think it's not, but other people do), then I would hope the fact that I've earned over six figures through my freelancing efforts counts.
Other measures of success would include having published more than 1,000 articles in publications like OurHealth magazine, Cooperative Living, Valley Business Front, The Fincastle Herald, The Roanoke Times, The New Castle Record, The Roanoke Star-Sentinel, The Salem Times-Register, and The Cave Spring Connection. I have also won awards for my nonfiction, fiction and poetry.
I will talk about how to establish a successful home office and how to find stories and pictures to sell. I will explain local, regional and state markets, discuss the best way to approach an editor, and examine other forms of profitable writing and photography, including Internet writing.
Handouts will include a list of local and regional markets, suggested reading and examples of successful query letters.
I hope you will join me. It should be a fun 3 or 4 hours.
What makes me qualified to do this? Well, if money is the measure of success (I happen to think it's not, but other people do), then I would hope the fact that I've earned over six figures through my freelancing efforts counts.
Other measures of success would include having published more than 1,000 articles in publications like OurHealth magazine, Cooperative Living, Valley Business Front, The Fincastle Herald, The Roanoke Times, The New Castle Record, The Roanoke Star-Sentinel, The Salem Times-Register, and The Cave Spring Connection. I have also won awards for my nonfiction, fiction and poetry.
I will talk about how to establish a successful home office and how to find stories and pictures to sell. I will explain local, regional and state markets, discuss the best way to approach an editor, and examine other forms of profitable writing and photography, including Internet writing.
Handouts will include a list of local and regional markets, suggested reading and examples of successful query letters.
I hope you will join me. It should be a fun 3 or 4 hours.
Friday, September 11, 2009
343 on 9/11
Remembering the 343 firefighters who died in the Twin Towers in New York City on 9/11, so that others may live.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Thursday Thirteen
Today I offer up 13 more things about Myrtle Beach, SC and then this is the last I'll be writing about my vacation. I know some of you are probably glad about that.
1. A cold day at the beach is not necessarily fun, but a blanket and a hat makes a world of difference.
2. Overheard in a restroom at Tanger Outlet: Woman A to child upon leaving the stall: "Go wash your hands." Woman B: "No! Don't use the soap." Woman A: "Why don't you let her use the soap?" Woman B: "I never let her use soap. She might be allergic to it." Woman A (who obviously is a friend to Woman B). "That is so retarded."
3. Golf courses are pretty to look at.
4. My husband is a hard-working man who needs his rest, and he finds the beach restful.
5. On the economy: shopkeepers told us tourism in 2008 was much worse than in 2009; more people are traveling. Of course, gas prices are not $4.50 a gallon this summer.
6. Sand gets into everything.
7. A soft mattress on a king-sized bed is hard to get used to when you normally sleep on an extra firm mattress on a queen-sized bed.
8. Shopping is very hard on your feet.
9. I am a sucker for unproven remedies for bodily aches, particularly my plantar fasciitis. Once again I dolled out many dollars in search of something for my foot pain. This time I bought "Happy Feet" inserts which have a watery type substance in them. I haven't decided if they help but they have changed my weight distribution; I can tell by the difference in my gait and in my calluses.
10. My fudge is just as good as that made at The Fudgery.
11. Myrtle Beach always makes me think about my mother, who passed away August 24, 2000. My mother spent a lot of time at Myrtle Beach and enjoyed the shopping. In 1988 we were vacationing there at the same time and she bought me a lovely London Fog coat, which unfortunately no longer fits. It was one of the nicer times we spent together there.
12. At Barefoot Landing, we saw tigers in a glass cage. One was white. They were magnificent creatures.
13. During a round of putt-putt golf, I sent my ball into the pond. My husband fished it out. He's my hero!
This is not a real elephant. It was at the putt-putt golf course at the pond.
Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; you can learn more about it here. My other Thursday Thirteens are here. This is number 106!
1. A cold day at the beach is not necessarily fun, but a blanket and a hat makes a world of difference.
2. Overheard in a restroom at Tanger Outlet: Woman A to child upon leaving the stall: "Go wash your hands." Woman B: "No! Don't use the soap." Woman A: "Why don't you let her use the soap?" Woman B: "I never let her use soap. She might be allergic to it." Woman A (who obviously is a friend to Woman B). "That is so retarded."
3. Golf courses are pretty to look at.
4. My husband is a hard-working man who needs his rest, and he finds the beach restful.
5. On the economy: shopkeepers told us tourism in 2008 was much worse than in 2009; more people are traveling. Of course, gas prices are not $4.50 a gallon this summer.
6. Sand gets into everything.
7. A soft mattress on a king-sized bed is hard to get used to when you normally sleep on an extra firm mattress on a queen-sized bed.
8. Shopping is very hard on your feet.
9. I am a sucker for unproven remedies for bodily aches, particularly my plantar fasciitis. Once again I dolled out many dollars in search of something for my foot pain. This time I bought "Happy Feet" inserts which have a watery type substance in them. I haven't decided if they help but they have changed my weight distribution; I can tell by the difference in my gait and in my calluses.
10. My fudge is just as good as that made at The Fudgery.
11. Myrtle Beach always makes me think about my mother, who passed away August 24, 2000. My mother spent a lot of time at Myrtle Beach and enjoyed the shopping. In 1988 we were vacationing there at the same time and she bought me a lovely London Fog coat, which unfortunately no longer fits. It was one of the nicer times we spent together there.
12. At Barefoot Landing, we saw tigers in a glass cage. One was white. They were magnificent creatures.
13. During a round of putt-putt golf, I sent my ball into the pond. My husband fished it out. He's my hero!
This is not a real elephant. It was at the putt-putt golf course at the pond.
Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; you can learn more about it here. My other Thursday Thirteens are here. This is number 106!
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
Myrtle Beach: Memory Lane
Broadway at the Beach at Myrtle Beach is, first and foremost, a shopping center, but it has a carnival atmosphere.
Hawkers line the walking paths, selling light sabres, cotton candy, popcorn and other portable goodies. Music, generally oldies, blasts from speakers hidden in strategic corners.
A big dragon bursts out of a volcano and has a word with you every hour or so.
In one corner, the remnants of the Myrtle Beach Pavilion, destroyed a couple of years ago, offer a glimpse of what used to be. A few of the rides have been moved to a Nostalgic Park there.
I have always loved the organ (German Baden Band Organ). It was built in 1900. I have watched it play for as many years as we've visited the beach. It wasn't playing when we were there.
Here's what it looked like when we were there:
The other treasure preserved at the nostalgic park is the carousel. I vaguely remember riding on this when I was young.
This is a Herschell-Spillman Carousel and it dates back to 1912. It has lots of animals on it, not just horses. It is one of only 15 of these kinds of carousels in the United States.
The area also offers up some old and new arcade games, and we ventured in there. I am a great lover of arcade games. I played pinball and I won two free games on the machine.
I have been playing pinball since I was infant. My parents told me that my father used to put me in a car seat and take me to the bars, where he would set me on the pinball machine. I chased the balls around while he played. It's a wonder I didn't fall off on my head.
Here we saw evidence of more changes. At Broadway, we loved the old clock shop; it's no longer there. The Christmas store is gone, too. They used to have a laser light show; it's been replaced with fireworks one night a week only. Fudge is now $15 a pound. When did that happen? We thought $6 a pound was high. We usually bring fudge home; this year we decided I could make a pound if we were desperate for the treat.
Taffy is also expensive; it's a family staple and we take boxes of the stuff back with us. What used to cost $1.25 is now $7.95. Same taffy, but it sure has risen in price.
The higher prices caught us off guard; we had to revise our spending to keep up with it. Dinners that we thought would be $50 are now $70; it eats into the budget quickly.
Our trip to Myrtle Beach ended quietly and was not long enough; six days is not enough for traveling and unwinding. As soon as I start to catch my breath it's time to pack the bags and head home again. We have never in our lives taken a solid two weeks of vacation; I would dearly love to do so. But with the farm I doubt that ever happens.
Aside from the chilly weather and the screaming child, we had a nice relaxing time. Vacations are highly recommended.
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
Myrtle Beach: The Market Common
On Monday, August 31, we toured The Market Common at Myrtle Beach.
This is a new shopping area.
I was keen to explore this because it is similar in concept the Daleville Town Center. I began writing about the Daleville Town Center from its inception and had been following the development of this proposed "traditional neighborhood" for four years, so I was interested in seeing one that was better underway.
The Market Common at Myrtle Beach was built on the old Air Force Base. It has shops, main street areas, and places to live above the shops. Daleville Town Center has the same plan: shops, living spaces, walking - a ready-built town, in other words.
At The Market Common in Myrtle Beach, the shops are filled with things like Barnes & Noble, Williams-Sonoma, Cold Creek. Not stuff that local marketeers and entrepreneurs might sell, but ordinary corporate normal made-someplace-else stuff that you can find most anywhere else in the United States.
I longed to see a line of stores that were different, independently owned and operated, offering up a world of goods that would be unique to each merchant. I would spend time in a place that offered things I could not see elsewhere, but I had no real desire to see the whitewashed goods I can find at Valley View Mall in Roanoke.
I would have liked for Barnes & Noble to have stayed where it was near Broadway at the Beach, and had a smaller bookstore owned by an independent bookseller, for example. Something like a Ram's Head at Towers Mall in Roanoke. There's a great bookstore that should be in something like The Market Common or Daleville Town Center.
The Market Common in theory seems to be fine, but I do not find it enticing. I wonder if in five years it will still stand. The shopkeeper at Williams Sonoma said it had been a struggle to stay open. There were very few people there when we were visiting.
After we hit The Market Common, we went to Tanger Outlet, where we visited many clothing stores, began our Christmas shopping, and in general wore out the bottoms of our shoes. All the people who should have been at The Market Common were at Tanger Outlet, sticking with the tried and true.
Next we went to The Original Benjamin's for dinner, a seafood buffet that cost $26.75 each. The food was great but I felt like I was in a warehouse.
Tuesday dawned cloudy again, so we walked the beach in hopes of working off Monday night's feast. We debated on renting an umbrella and two chairs from the lifeguard. It was expensive - $30 a day, less if you went for multiple days. In the end we doled out $95 for 4 days of use. Otherwise we would have had to buy an umbrella and chairs. I am fair-skinned, burn easily, and on medication that says "stay out of direct sunlight" on it, so no way could I have just lain out in the sun like other beauties.
By the end of the day I had read through two book by Tamora Pierce and started a third. My husband was resting a lot, which was good, and I was trying to.
Soon we would be taking a trip down memory lane.
Monday, September 07, 2009
Myrtle Beach: The Screaming Child
We will remember the third day of our 2009 Myrtle Beach vacation for the screaming girl-child. Her family put up their umbrella and chairs about 15 feet from us. We rent an umbrella and chairs from the lifeguard - expensive, but easier. So we couldn't move.
The couple had three children with them, two girls, who looked to be twins somewhere about age 10, and a younger boy. The boy stole a bottle cap from one of the girls, who was making a sand castle.
"It's mine! It's mine! Give it back give it back give back!" The whine began in a normal voice and quickly grew in volume. Louder. Louder. Louder still.
The boy pestered her a bit; her parents ignored them. Finally she screamed enough that they paid attention. Their male authority figure (black haired, stockily built, northern accent) called a timeout, and sat the boy in a chair and the girl in a chair. The other girl moved to the sandcastle.
The girl in the chair began a constant tirade against her sister. "Gabriella, don't touch that, Gabriella, that's mine, it's mine it's mine mine mine, Daddy make her stop, it's mine Gabriella don't do that, it's mine it's mine." Again an increase in volume, an increase in intensity, until the girl in the chair was screaming. She screamed. And screamed. And screamed for two solid hours.
I don't know how the adults with her stood it and it was obvious she probably does this a lot. She screamed so loudly that every pair of eyes within a football field's length of us trained on this girl, because surely someone was taking a sword to this child's head.
She screamed and screamed and screamed. I wanted to say something to the parents but my husband restrained me. I was trying to rest and read; who could do anything with that racket? It was nerve-wracking and irritating, to say the least. The female adult never said anything; Dad once in a while said "Shut up" but the girl never listened. She screamed so much I thought she might get hoarse but we were not that lucky.
My husband, who was trying to nap, lay there muttering things under his breath like "take her swimming in the deep water" and hoping that the adults would show some couth and shut the kid up, but alas, that did not happen. Had she been mine, I'd have hauled her off to the motel room after 30 seconds of that screaming and made her stay there. For the rest of the day. And then some.
She screamed so much and so hard and so long that my husband at last said the child must be mentally ill. I told him I did not think that; just poorly parented.
After two solid hours of this, my nerves were so raw you would have thought I had ripped them out of my body and exposed them to the air. I do not dislike children - they often amuse me, with their energy and their enthusiasm - but I do not like screaming little brats.
I do not know what the protocol is for dealing with such an incident. I wanted to ask the father for $25 to reimburse us for the umbrella rental; I kind of figured he owed us that. I couldn't figure out how to handle the situation and so did nothing except pray that they would not settle in the same place the next day.
This they did, and the day after and the day after that. Fortunately there were no similar incidents of length, though there were small disturbances of the whining nature. And at one point one of the little brats... um, girls ... came over to my husband and said, "Excuse me, may I please have the time?" which just floored us both.
I know children will be children, and what occurred on subsequent days did not annoy me or bother me; it was easily ignored. Upon reflection I feel sure that this was Daddy with Step Mom or Girl Friend and his children have learned how to take advantage of the problems in the family structure. However, that is no excuse for poor manners and selfishness.
The couple had three children with them, two girls, who looked to be twins somewhere about age 10, and a younger boy. The boy stole a bottle cap from one of the girls, who was making a sand castle.
"It's mine! It's mine! Give it back give it back give back!" The whine began in a normal voice and quickly grew in volume. Louder. Louder. Louder still.
The boy pestered her a bit; her parents ignored them. Finally she screamed enough that they paid attention. Their male authority figure (black haired, stockily built, northern accent) called a timeout, and sat the boy in a chair and the girl in a chair. The other girl moved to the sandcastle.
The girl in the chair began a constant tirade against her sister. "Gabriella, don't touch that, Gabriella, that's mine, it's mine it's mine mine mine, Daddy make her stop, it's mine Gabriella don't do that, it's mine it's mine." Again an increase in volume, an increase in intensity, until the girl in the chair was screaming. She screamed. And screamed. And screamed for two solid hours.
I don't know how the adults with her stood it and it was obvious she probably does this a lot. She screamed so loudly that every pair of eyes within a football field's length of us trained on this girl, because surely someone was taking a sword to this child's head.
She screamed and screamed and screamed. I wanted to say something to the parents but my husband restrained me. I was trying to rest and read; who could do anything with that racket? It was nerve-wracking and irritating, to say the least. The female adult never said anything; Dad once in a while said "Shut up" but the girl never listened. She screamed so much I thought she might get hoarse but we were not that lucky.
My husband, who was trying to nap, lay there muttering things under his breath like "take her swimming in the deep water" and hoping that the adults would show some couth and shut the kid up, but alas, that did not happen. Had she been mine, I'd have hauled her off to the motel room after 30 seconds of that screaming and made her stay there. For the rest of the day. And then some.
She screamed so much and so hard and so long that my husband at last said the child must be mentally ill. I told him I did not think that; just poorly parented.
After two solid hours of this, my nerves were so raw you would have thought I had ripped them out of my body and exposed them to the air. I do not dislike children - they often amuse me, with their energy and their enthusiasm - but I do not like screaming little brats.
I do not know what the protocol is for dealing with such an incident. I wanted to ask the father for $25 to reimburse us for the umbrella rental; I kind of figured he owed us that. I couldn't figure out how to handle the situation and so did nothing except pray that they would not settle in the same place the next day.
This they did, and the day after and the day after that. Fortunately there were no similar incidents of length, though there were small disturbances of the whining nature. And at one point one of the little brats... um, girls ... came over to my husband and said, "Excuse me, may I please have the time?" which just floored us both.
I know children will be children, and what occurred on subsequent days did not annoy me or bother me; it was easily ignored. Upon reflection I feel sure that this was Daddy with Step Mom or Girl Friend and his children have learned how to take advantage of the problems in the family structure. However, that is no excuse for poor manners and selfishness.
Sunday, September 06, 2009
Myrtle Beach: accomodations & the weather
On Monday, August 31, we woke to rain, thunder and lightning on our first day at Myrtle Beach. We had arrived on Sunday, August 30, and discovered that we were staying in an unexpected place.
Our motel turned out to be a remodeled Pan American. Had we known this, I am sure we would not have stayed at this facility. When I called I had been given the impression this was a totally new place that opened in 2007.
No matter. As it was, it turned out fine.
The motel, originally only six stories, was now 13 (14 on the elevator, we Americans are so superstitious), and it had been completely remodeled and renovated, and a sister tower added next door. Once we figured out what had happened I relaxed, though I wasn't surprised when mold appeared in our bathroom on our fifth day there. I alerted housekeeping and thankfully they went after it with bleach.
Our motel from the beach. The lower six floors are the older part; we were on the fourth floor, corner room on the left in this photo.
The owners went to quite an expense to turn their older facility into a new modern one, and I daresay it has paid off. This place was nearly full most of the time we were there. It is a kid-friendly facility and maybe not quite what we were looking for, since we are middle-aged couple with no kids. But I would go back there, now that it has been redone.
Sunday evening, after our arrival, we toured the area as is our habit. We were looking for even more changes than those we found in 2007. We knew coming down that the Pavilion, the race track with the great little go carts and our favorite restaurant, the Outrigger, had vanished. They were gone when we vacationed in North Myrtle Beach in 2007.
This year so much looked different I could not tell what had changed. A few things remained - but now Myrtle Beach is mostly beach, shopping centers and golf. The things that made it unique are no more, and that is a shame. Because I can go shopping pretty much anywhere.
In other words, Myrtle Beach is no longer a destination for the "regular folks" but is now a destination point for those who do the big-wheeling. The fellows who play golf and their wives who need shopping as a diversion. The rest of us? Eh. Who cares.
Anyway, our room was pleasant enough. It had two TVs, a couch, table, king-sized bed, full-size refrigerator, stove, microwave, three sinks, bathroom, closet, little vanity/dressing area. It was a nice-sized room for two people.
The place was a little short of amenities - no coffee for the coffee pot - but we bring our own stuff anyway (except for coffee, we had to buy that) so it did not really matter. I suspect this is the way of hotel-staying in the future, fewer little touches.
Our motel is a three-star and very nice. After our adventure in 2001 at its former self, I was much relieved.
Monday brought rain, a herald of the week. Unfortunately we saw very little sunshine as the beach sky stayed overcast and cloudy much of the time we were there. The temperatures never strayed above the low 80s and for much of the time we sat on the beach, I huddled under an extra towel for warmth. The winds blew cool and hard, sending my book pages turning if I loosened my grip on the novel.
Unfortunately, a good deal of the time, the beach looked sad and wet.
Our motel turned out to be a remodeled Pan American. Had we known this, I am sure we would not have stayed at this facility. When I called I had been given the impression this was a totally new place that opened in 2007.
No matter. As it was, it turned out fine.
The motel, originally only six stories, was now 13 (14 on the elevator, we Americans are so superstitious), and it had been completely remodeled and renovated, and a sister tower added next door. Once we figured out what had happened I relaxed, though I wasn't surprised when mold appeared in our bathroom on our fifth day there. I alerted housekeeping and thankfully they went after it with bleach.
Our motel from the beach. The lower six floors are the older part; we were on the fourth floor, corner room on the left in this photo.
The owners went to quite an expense to turn their older facility into a new modern one, and I daresay it has paid off. This place was nearly full most of the time we were there. It is a kid-friendly facility and maybe not quite what we were looking for, since we are middle-aged couple with no kids. But I would go back there, now that it has been redone.
Sunday evening, after our arrival, we toured the area as is our habit. We were looking for even more changes than those we found in 2007. We knew coming down that the Pavilion, the race track with the great little go carts and our favorite restaurant, the Outrigger, had vanished. They were gone when we vacationed in North Myrtle Beach in 2007.
This year so much looked different I could not tell what had changed. A few things remained - but now Myrtle Beach is mostly beach, shopping centers and golf. The things that made it unique are no more, and that is a shame. Because I can go shopping pretty much anywhere.
In other words, Myrtle Beach is no longer a destination for the "regular folks" but is now a destination point for those who do the big-wheeling. The fellows who play golf and their wives who need shopping as a diversion. The rest of us? Eh. Who cares.
Anyway, our room was pleasant enough. It had two TVs, a couch, table, king-sized bed, full-size refrigerator, stove, microwave, three sinks, bathroom, closet, little vanity/dressing area. It was a nice-sized room for two people.
The place was a little short of amenities - no coffee for the coffee pot - but we bring our own stuff anyway (except for coffee, we had to buy that) so it did not really matter. I suspect this is the way of hotel-staying in the future, fewer little touches.
Our motel is a three-star and very nice. After our adventure in 2001 at its former self, I was much relieved.
Monday brought rain, a herald of the week. Unfortunately we saw very little sunshine as the beach sky stayed overcast and cloudy much of the time we were there. The temperatures never strayed above the low 80s and for much of the time we sat on the beach, I huddled under an extra towel for warmth. The winds blew cool and hard, sending my book pages turning if I loosened my grip on the novel.
Unfortunately, a good deal of the time, the beach looked sad and wet.
Saturday, September 05, 2009
Prologue
In 2001, my husband and I ventured to Myrtle Beach for vacation around the end of August. We opted that year to try a new place for us, and so chose the Pan American.
The year before we had driven around and looked at various motels from the outside, though we did not go in any of them. We liked the Pan American at the time because it sat with only three or four other motels in the midst of a residential area. It didn't look like it would be too crowded.
So when the time came for vacation the following year, we booked there.
For those who may not know, there are three "cities" along the beach that stretches from the North Carolina line down to the middle of the South Carolina coast. North Myrtle Beach is one, and it is where we usually stay. It has fewer hotels, less people, and not as many things to do. Myrtle Beach is about 8 miles down the road from North Myrtle Beach. It is full of motels, night clubs, shopping centers, golf courses, etc., and we just drive down there to experience all there is to see and do. And then there is Atlantic Beach, which is in between North Myrtle Beach and Myrtle Beach. It's kind of a no-man's land, although it is being spruced up in some quarters. I have been told that during segregation this was the black beach, though I do not know that for certain.
Anyway, the Pan American was in northern Myrtle Beach (as opposed to North Myrtle Beach) so it was a different location for us.
Unfortunately, the timing of the trip coincided with the first anniversary of my mother's death. I was an emotional wreck, and quite stressed. The hotel, which didn't look too bad on the outside, turned out to be terrible. I have a nose for molds and mildew and some places simply take my breath away as soon as I walk into them, thanks to my allergies and asthma. This motel was one. From the lobby to the room, it stank.
We bought air freshener and bleach but it wasn't enough. There were also cockroaches in the room. My sinuses erupted and by Tuesday night I was having chest pains from the stress of trying to be in such a hostile environment at the place where I have strong memories of my mother (my family has always vacationed at Myrtle Beach). I sobbed into my husband's shoulder and begged him to take me home. Our week-long stay ended very early that year.
We count that as one of our worst vacations.
Cut now to Sunday, August 30, 2009. Yep, last Sunday we left good ol' Botetourt and headed for Myrtle Beach.
We hadn't planned on a vacation but in July my poor husband, hard working and tired, told me he really needed some time away. So I hunted up an email I'd received about great rates at Myrtle Beach. One of the places advertised was in northern Myrtle Beach, not North Myrtle Beach, but the rates were great. Less than $100 for an ocean-front efficiency room with a king-sized bed. The place also rated well at tripadvisor.com.
After the usual 7-hour drive down (we stop a lot), we pulled into our motel. The area looked familiar but we've been to Myrtle Beach so many times it all kind of runs together.
We went to check in. My husband forgot his glasses so he left it to me to hand over the credit card and sign for the room.
I looked at the receipt I was signing. On the name of the motel, it also said dba PAN AMERICAN.
My heart lept up into my chest. What had we done?
The year before we had driven around and looked at various motels from the outside, though we did not go in any of them. We liked the Pan American at the time because it sat with only three or four other motels in the midst of a residential area. It didn't look like it would be too crowded.
So when the time came for vacation the following year, we booked there.
For those who may not know, there are three "cities" along the beach that stretches from the North Carolina line down to the middle of the South Carolina coast. North Myrtle Beach is one, and it is where we usually stay. It has fewer hotels, less people, and not as many things to do. Myrtle Beach is about 8 miles down the road from North Myrtle Beach. It is full of motels, night clubs, shopping centers, golf courses, etc., and we just drive down there to experience all there is to see and do. And then there is Atlantic Beach, which is in between North Myrtle Beach and Myrtle Beach. It's kind of a no-man's land, although it is being spruced up in some quarters. I have been told that during segregation this was the black beach, though I do not know that for certain.
Anyway, the Pan American was in northern Myrtle Beach (as opposed to North Myrtle Beach) so it was a different location for us.
Unfortunately, the timing of the trip coincided with the first anniversary of my mother's death. I was an emotional wreck, and quite stressed. The hotel, which didn't look too bad on the outside, turned out to be terrible. I have a nose for molds and mildew and some places simply take my breath away as soon as I walk into them, thanks to my allergies and asthma. This motel was one. From the lobby to the room, it stank.
We bought air freshener and bleach but it wasn't enough. There were also cockroaches in the room. My sinuses erupted and by Tuesday night I was having chest pains from the stress of trying to be in such a hostile environment at the place where I have strong memories of my mother (my family has always vacationed at Myrtle Beach). I sobbed into my husband's shoulder and begged him to take me home. Our week-long stay ended very early that year.
We count that as one of our worst vacations.
Cut now to Sunday, August 30, 2009. Yep, last Sunday we left good ol' Botetourt and headed for Myrtle Beach.
We hadn't planned on a vacation but in July my poor husband, hard working and tired, told me he really needed some time away. So I hunted up an email I'd received about great rates at Myrtle Beach. One of the places advertised was in northern Myrtle Beach, not North Myrtle Beach, but the rates were great. Less than $100 for an ocean-front efficiency room with a king-sized bed. The place also rated well at tripadvisor.com.
After the usual 7-hour drive down (we stop a lot), we pulled into our motel. The area looked familiar but we've been to Myrtle Beach so many times it all kind of runs together.
We went to check in. My husband forgot his glasses so he left it to me to hand over the credit card and sign for the room.
I looked at the receipt I was signing. On the name of the motel, it also said dba PAN AMERICAN.
My heart lept up into my chest. What had we done?
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
Monday, August 31, 2009
Books: Light on Snow
Light on Snow
By Anita Shreve
Copyright 2004
Audio book
6.5 hours
Read by Alyson Silverman
This is one of the better books I have read in a while. Twelve-year-old Nicky is dealing with a grieving father two years after her mother and her baby sister Clara were killed in a car wreck. Dad uprooted himself and his daughter and fled their life in New York, settling in a remote area of New Hampshire. He turned into a reclusive furniture maker who did not take a lot of baths.
Nicky settled into school and was doing her best to keep to a routine, even though her father would not allow TV or newspapers into the house (he feared bad news). They had a habit of walking in the woods after she came from school.
One snowy day in early December, they heard a cry. Following the sound, they came across an abandoned baby in a sleeping bag. Dad grabbed up the child and they hustled the little girl to a hospital.
Life took different turns from there, what with the attention of the rescue and the ensuing investigation. Also, Christmas was coming and Nicky was anticipating her grandmother's visit. A few people even dropped in to buy furniture for holiday presents.
Twelve is a strange age, a time of growing up. Add the complications of strangers and you have a coming-of-age story that should not be missed.
By Anita Shreve
Copyright 2004
Audio book
6.5 hours
Read by Alyson Silverman
This is one of the better books I have read in a while. Twelve-year-old Nicky is dealing with a grieving father two years after her mother and her baby sister Clara were killed in a car wreck. Dad uprooted himself and his daughter and fled their life in New York, settling in a remote area of New Hampshire. He turned into a reclusive furniture maker who did not take a lot of baths.
Nicky settled into school and was doing her best to keep to a routine, even though her father would not allow TV or newspapers into the house (he feared bad news). They had a habit of walking in the woods after she came from school.
One snowy day in early December, they heard a cry. Following the sound, they came across an abandoned baby in a sleeping bag. Dad grabbed up the child and they hustled the little girl to a hospital.
Life took different turns from there, what with the attention of the rescue and the ensuing investigation. Also, Christmas was coming and Nicky was anticipating her grandmother's visit. A few people even dropped in to buy furniture for holiday presents.
Twelve is a strange age, a time of growing up. Add the complications of strangers and you have a coming-of-age story that should not be missed.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
The Phoenix Bridge
This historic bridge is located about 2.6 miles from Eagle Rock in Botetourt County, Va. It is one lane across Craig's Creek on Rt. 685. The roadway is made of wood.
The bridge was constructed in 1887 and was one of the first steel bridges in this end of Virginia. It is called a Phoenix Bridge because it was built by The Phoenix Bridge Company of Phoenixville, Pennsylvania.
The bridge in on the National Register of Historic Places.
Iron instead of timber use in bridges began around 1840; two iron bridges were built across the Erie Canal in New York about that time.
In 1850 an iron railroad bridge collapsed, which set the use of iron back a bit.However, by the 1860s it was in demand and after the Civil War there was a boom in bridge-building.
Many companies formed to take advantage of the need, including the Phoenix Bridge Company.
The Phoenix Company's distinctive product was the Phoenix post, a compression member composed of four flanged segments riveted together, which is used in this bridge.
It is formed of rolled wrought iron.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
Land of the Bought and Sold
In the Roanoke Times on August 27, 2009 on page 21 (I'm a subscriber), Michael Steele, chairman of the Republican National Committee, had an opinion piece that originally appeared in the Washington Post.
The opinion was about health care. It was titled, "Health care GOP style" and it talked about what is wrong with the Democrats' plan for an overhaul.
What struck me out of the whole thing was this sentence:
"Republicans oppose any new government entity overruling a doctor's decision about how to treat his patient."
Ah. But Republicans don't mind sticking their nose in where it doesn't belong in regards to health care, particularly where it pertains to women.
What about abortion? What about the woman who was raped who would have to carry an evil man's child to term under proposed anti-abortion law changes? What would happen then? If the doctor thought her depression from her situation was so severe that an abortion would save her life, you'd say... tough... wouldn't you Mr. Republican? Or if the incested 16-year-old slits her wrist because she's carrying her daddy's baby, I suppose you'd lock her up and force her to term, wouldn't you, Mr. Republican? Because we don't want that girl and her doctor making a decision about her body. It's okay to meddle then, or so you say.
And what about those rules about birth control? Particularly the ones that allow a pharmacist to become an "entity" sticking his nose between a doctor and his patient because he doesn't believe in birth control How about that, Mr. Republican? Maybe you didn't realize that birth control pills are handed out for many things that have nothing to do with birth control? They help many women balance their hormones. Women with endometriosis need them just to get through a day sometimes without searing pain - I know, I was one of them. But that sort of meddling is okay, right, Mr. Republican? So long as it serves the cause, it is okay to overrule.
What a bunch of B.S. The whole thing is a fiasco designed to put more money in other people's pocket. There is not a single politician out there who cares one bit if you or I live or die. Not a single one, not in any party. All they see are dollar signs.
Land of the free. Phtt. Land of the bought and sold, if you ask me.
The opinion was about health care. It was titled, "Health care GOP style" and it talked about what is wrong with the Democrats' plan for an overhaul.
What struck me out of the whole thing was this sentence:
"Republicans oppose any new government entity overruling a doctor's decision about how to treat his patient."
Ah. But Republicans don't mind sticking their nose in where it doesn't belong in regards to health care, particularly where it pertains to women.
What about abortion? What about the woman who was raped who would have to carry an evil man's child to term under proposed anti-abortion law changes? What would happen then? If the doctor thought her depression from her situation was so severe that an abortion would save her life, you'd say... tough... wouldn't you Mr. Republican? Or if the incested 16-year-old slits her wrist because she's carrying her daddy's baby, I suppose you'd lock her up and force her to term, wouldn't you, Mr. Republican? Because we don't want that girl and her doctor making a decision about her body. It's okay to meddle then, or so you say.
And what about those rules about birth control? Particularly the ones that allow a pharmacist to become an "entity" sticking his nose between a doctor and his patient because he doesn't believe in birth control How about that, Mr. Republican? Maybe you didn't realize that birth control pills are handed out for many things that have nothing to do with birth control? They help many women balance their hormones. Women with endometriosis need them just to get through a day sometimes without searing pain - I know, I was one of them. But that sort of meddling is okay, right, Mr. Republican? So long as it serves the cause, it is okay to overrule.
What a bunch of B.S. The whole thing is a fiasco designed to put more money in other people's pocket. There is not a single politician out there who cares one bit if you or I live or die. Not a single one, not in any party. All they see are dollar signs.
Land of the free. Phtt. Land of the bought and sold, if you ask me.
Welcome to Walmart. Get Your Stuff and Get Out.
Not long ago, I attended a free talk sponsored by the Arts Council of the Blue Ridge, on "Freelance Writing in this Market," meaning the Roanoke Valley.
Last month, after a talk on writing I came home energized and ready to move forward.
This time, I came home feeling despondent and thinking it must be time to go pick up my "Walmart Greeter" badge.
The gist of the talk was that you can't make a living as a freelance writer. I happen to know this isn't true, having done it for several years now. But it isn't easy.
"You can make $200 - $300 a month," the speaker said. Extra income, in other words. Payment in the valley ranges from $30 an article to about $150, maybe more for one single publication.
One of the editors there said there are about 26 different publications in the valley.
Let's see how many I can name off the top of my head (I'll put a star by the ones I've been published in):
Valley Business Front*
Roanoke Star Sentinel*
The Roanoke Times*
Blue Ridge Business Journal
The Fincastle Herald*
The Salem Times Register*
The New Castle Record*
The Vinton Messenger*
The Vinton Voice (this is a new start-up that hasn't yet hit the streets)
The Roanoke Co-Optimist (Roanoke Natural Foods)*
OurHealth magazine*
The Cave Spring Connection*
Roanoke Valley Home
City
Bella
Verve (put out by Carilion, I don't know if they use freelancers)
Senior News
The Roanoker*
Blue Ridge Country
Play by Play
Natural Awakenings
The Roanoke Tribune
Somewhere I have read statistics about writing income. I can't find anything online at the moment, but I recall something like 90 percent of writers make less than $1,000 a year. One of the editors at the talk on Tuesday said that only 2 percent of writers can pay their mortgage with their work, and that includes folks who are on staff at newspapers and magazines.
That kind of leaves the rest of us out in the cold, doesn't it?
So maybe it's time I send in my application to Walmart. As Walter (one of Jeff Dunham's puppets) says, "Welcome to Walmart. Get your shit and get out."
Or maybe it's time I say, "Screw you. I'll succeed despite your negativity." And then get back to my writing business.
Last month, after a talk on writing I came home energized and ready to move forward.
This time, I came home feeling despondent and thinking it must be time to go pick up my "Walmart Greeter" badge.
The gist of the talk was that you can't make a living as a freelance writer. I happen to know this isn't true, having done it for several years now. But it isn't easy.
"You can make $200 - $300 a month," the speaker said. Extra income, in other words. Payment in the valley ranges from $30 an article to about $150, maybe more for one single publication.
One of the editors there said there are about 26 different publications in the valley.
Let's see how many I can name off the top of my head (I'll put a star by the ones I've been published in):
Valley Business Front*
Roanoke Star Sentinel*
The Roanoke Times*
Blue Ridge Business Journal
The Fincastle Herald*
The Salem Times Register*
The New Castle Record*
The Vinton Messenger*
The Vinton Voice (this is a new start-up that hasn't yet hit the streets)
The Roanoke Co-Optimist (Roanoke Natural Foods)*
OurHealth magazine*
The Cave Spring Connection*
Roanoke Valley Home
City
Bella
Verve (put out by Carilion, I don't know if they use freelancers)
Senior News
The Roanoker*
Blue Ridge Country
Play by Play
Natural Awakenings
The Roanoke Tribune
Somewhere I have read statistics about writing income. I can't find anything online at the moment, but I recall something like 90 percent of writers make less than $1,000 a year. One of the editors at the talk on Tuesday said that only 2 percent of writers can pay their mortgage with their work, and that includes folks who are on staff at newspapers and magazines.
That kind of leaves the rest of us out in the cold, doesn't it?
So maybe it's time I send in my application to Walmart. As Walter (one of Jeff Dunham's puppets) says, "Welcome to Walmart. Get your shit and get out."
Or maybe it's time I say, "Screw you. I'll succeed despite your negativity." And then get back to my writing business.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Thursday Thirteen
Today I thought I'd take a look at national and local news items and make a few comments. Warning: my liberal thinking is showing.
1. Appalachian Power - yet another rate increase. In the last several years, APCO has appealed to the Virginia State Corporation Commission, which oversees the utility, for a number of rate increases. Most recently it received a 7.7 percent increase. Now it is asking for a 17 percent increase, and has another increase of 3.5 percent pending as well. I wish I could just go to some entity and say, "Hey, my stockholders want more money, gimme." I suggest we all try it and see how far we get. It would be one thing if there were reasons besides profit involved, but as best I can tell, that is the motive.
2. Exit 150 fixes. The issue? An interchange on Interstate 81 in Botetourt County at Daleville that is among the most used in the state. It is a connector link between US 220, US 460, US 11 and I-81. It is also pretty much the only way to get into Botetourt County (population 32,000). As such, the interchange has several hundred thousand vehicles routed through it on any given day. Traffic backups during peak use times are enormous. Tonight there is a meeting at Lord Botetourt High School offering several fixes. Some of those fixes include buying the truckstops (for about $15 million) that are enveloped in the interchange. Botetourt County created this mess by allowing those entities to build - one of the truckstops was put in in the 1990s, and there was already a traffic problem then. The county bears a lot of responsibility for this problem but I don't see anyone pointing that finger. Now that the problem exists, fixing it is on the scale of multiple millions. Bad decisions do have consequences.
3. The National D-Day Memorial in Bedford. It is a shame that this endeavor has been mired in financial difficulties. I have been to the memorial, though not in a while, and it is very nice and well-done, if you like that sort of thing. Bedford, in case you don't know, allegedly lost more men per capita in the D-Day invasion than any other community in the United States, which is why the memorial is situated there.
4. Senator Edward Kennedy dies. Cancer took one of the last survivors of the nation's "Camelot" family. Kennedy was a Democrat of force and renown who in many instances actually worked for the people, a rarity among politicians. Cancer is a killer that knows no distinctions. Unfortunately, in the current health care climate, I do not believe it will ever be cured. There is too much money in it. Another reason for changing health care, something Kennedy wanted.
5. Regulations and rules. In this story, the IRS thinks it will have to cut the limit on contributions to 401(k) plans. I don't make enough money to ever worry about meeting the limits. However, I thought the goal of a 401(k) was to encourage savings.
6. Winning the dough. This fellow won $260 million and wants to do good with it. The MegaMillions is up to $325 million for the drawing Friday night. I have my ticket; do you have yours? What will you do with the money if you win?
7. Bill Maher (love to watch him) calls America "Stupid." I agree with him. On the whole, we are a very ignorant nation. Listen to his list of items that Americans don't know, the percents who think the sun revolves around the earth, etc. and reach your own conclusion. We're so self-absorbed we can't be bothered with "facts." As the country crumbles, ignorance is reaching a pinnacle. What will happen when we get there? (My apologies to anyone who is offended but really... don't you agree, deep down, that few people here are using their brain these days?)
8. Judge strikes "God" in law. This is a fascinating story. A judge ruled that a statue in the Kentucky Office of Homeland Security cannot say "very plainly that current citizens of the Commonwealth cannot be safe, neither now, nor in the future, without the aid of Almighty God. Even assuming that most of this nation's citizens have historically depended upon God, by choice, for their protection, this does not give the General Assembly the right to force citizens to do so now." The judge ruled that telling citizens to pray for help is establishing a religion. Of course it is. I am sure, though, that there will be many folks who will villianize this judge for following the Constitution.
9. Women are getting unhappier. This story by Madeline Bunting is rather eye-brow raising, particularly if you are a woman. She says that the 1999 West and Sweeting study of 15-year-olds shows an "incidence of common mental disorders such as anxiety, depression, panic attacks and anhedonia (loss of capacity to experience pleasure)" was much higher in girls than in boys - 19% to 32% higher, than results of earlier years. And check this out: "an NHS study published this year showed that between 1993 and 2007 common mental disorders had risen by a fifth for women aged between 45 and 64 (there had been no change in men), and among the over-75s, they were twice as likely in women as men."
10. The Clone Wars are here: this story says the US will soon use an all-drone fighting force. Drones are already in use - 5,000 in Iraq and Afghanistan. But what happens when you turn real life-and-death into a video game? Talk about a moral issue.
11. Using terror for political purposes. Tom Ridge in an upcoming book says that President Bush pushed the terror alerts for his own means during the 2004 election. Was I the only person who already knew this? You would think so judging from the media attention this is getting. It was as plain as the oil companies' increases in gas prices during holiday weekends. But then again, this is America, where people (see #7 above) are easily scared.
12. A new milestone in Afghanistan. The new milestone is soldiers' deaths. I don't know why we are still in the Middle East fighting. Obviously this is over oil and resources. It has nothing to do with 911, nothing to do with vengeance. This is about securing oil. It is about making rich people richer from the blood of Middle Eastern people and American soldiers. The fact that we are still fighting is proof to me that this is a "1984" war. It will go on forever just so the people in power (and yes, in America, we have people in power) can play their games and earn their dollars. Trillions of debt? Bring the soldiers home and plug up that hole immediately. It would solve a lot of the money problems.
13. Lastly, we need government-run health care.
Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; you can learn more about it here. My other Thursday Thirteens are here. This is number 105!
1. Appalachian Power - yet another rate increase. In the last several years, APCO has appealed to the Virginia State Corporation Commission, which oversees the utility, for a number of rate increases. Most recently it received a 7.7 percent increase. Now it is asking for a 17 percent increase, and has another increase of 3.5 percent pending as well. I wish I could just go to some entity and say, "Hey, my stockholders want more money, gimme." I suggest we all try it and see how far we get. It would be one thing if there were reasons besides profit involved, but as best I can tell, that is the motive.
2. Exit 150 fixes. The issue? An interchange on Interstate 81 in Botetourt County at Daleville that is among the most used in the state. It is a connector link between US 220, US 460, US 11 and I-81. It is also pretty much the only way to get into Botetourt County (population 32,000). As such, the interchange has several hundred thousand vehicles routed through it on any given day. Traffic backups during peak use times are enormous. Tonight there is a meeting at Lord Botetourt High School offering several fixes. Some of those fixes include buying the truckstops (for about $15 million) that are enveloped in the interchange. Botetourt County created this mess by allowing those entities to build - one of the truckstops was put in in the 1990s, and there was already a traffic problem then. The county bears a lot of responsibility for this problem but I don't see anyone pointing that finger. Now that the problem exists, fixing it is on the scale of multiple millions. Bad decisions do have consequences.
3. The National D-Day Memorial in Bedford. It is a shame that this endeavor has been mired in financial difficulties. I have been to the memorial, though not in a while, and it is very nice and well-done, if you like that sort of thing. Bedford, in case you don't know, allegedly lost more men per capita in the D-Day invasion than any other community in the United States, which is why the memorial is situated there.
4. Senator Edward Kennedy dies. Cancer took one of the last survivors of the nation's "Camelot" family. Kennedy was a Democrat of force and renown who in many instances actually worked for the people, a rarity among politicians. Cancer is a killer that knows no distinctions. Unfortunately, in the current health care climate, I do not believe it will ever be cured. There is too much money in it. Another reason for changing health care, something Kennedy wanted.
5. Regulations and rules. In this story, the IRS thinks it will have to cut the limit on contributions to 401(k) plans. I don't make enough money to ever worry about meeting the limits. However, I thought the goal of a 401(k) was to encourage savings.
6. Winning the dough. This fellow won $260 million and wants to do good with it. The MegaMillions is up to $325 million for the drawing Friday night. I have my ticket; do you have yours? What will you do with the money if you win?
7. Bill Maher (love to watch him) calls America "Stupid." I agree with him. On the whole, we are a very ignorant nation. Listen to his list of items that Americans don't know, the percents who think the sun revolves around the earth, etc. and reach your own conclusion. We're so self-absorbed we can't be bothered with "facts." As the country crumbles, ignorance is reaching a pinnacle. What will happen when we get there? (My apologies to anyone who is offended but really... don't you agree, deep down, that few people here are using their brain these days?)
8. Judge strikes "God" in law. This is a fascinating story. A judge ruled that a statue in the Kentucky Office of Homeland Security cannot say "very plainly that current citizens of the Commonwealth cannot be safe, neither now, nor in the future, without the aid of Almighty God. Even assuming that most of this nation's citizens have historically depended upon God, by choice, for their protection, this does not give the General Assembly the right to force citizens to do so now." The judge ruled that telling citizens to pray for help is establishing a religion. Of course it is. I am sure, though, that there will be many folks who will villianize this judge for following the Constitution.
9. Women are getting unhappier. This story by Madeline Bunting is rather eye-brow raising, particularly if you are a woman. She says that the 1999 West and Sweeting study of 15-year-olds shows an "incidence of common mental disorders such as anxiety, depression, panic attacks and anhedonia (loss of capacity to experience pleasure)" was much higher in girls than in boys - 19% to 32% higher, than results of earlier years. And check this out: "an NHS study published this year showed that between 1993 and 2007 common mental disorders had risen by a fifth for women aged between 45 and 64 (there had been no change in men), and among the over-75s, they were twice as likely in women as men."
10. The Clone Wars are here: this story says the US will soon use an all-drone fighting force. Drones are already in use - 5,000 in Iraq and Afghanistan. But what happens when you turn real life-and-death into a video game? Talk about a moral issue.
11. Using terror for political purposes. Tom Ridge in an upcoming book says that President Bush pushed the terror alerts for his own means during the 2004 election. Was I the only person who already knew this? You would think so judging from the media attention this is getting. It was as plain as the oil companies' increases in gas prices during holiday weekends. But then again, this is America, where people (see #7 above) are easily scared.
12. A new milestone in Afghanistan. The new milestone is soldiers' deaths. I don't know why we are still in the Middle East fighting. Obviously this is over oil and resources. It has nothing to do with 911, nothing to do with vengeance. This is about securing oil. It is about making rich people richer from the blood of Middle Eastern people and American soldiers. The fact that we are still fighting is proof to me that this is a "1984" war. It will go on forever just so the people in power (and yes, in America, we have people in power) can play their games and earn their dollars. Trillions of debt? Bring the soldiers home and plug up that hole immediately. It would solve a lot of the money problems.
13. Lastly, we need government-run health care.
Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; you can learn more about it here. My other Thursday Thirteens are here. This is number 105!
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Definitions of the Day
It seems to me that a lot of folks, including the media, blogs and elsewhere, are using words and concepts without truly knowing the definition of what they are saying.
In the interest of clearing that up, at least in my mind, I thought I’d look up some things in my Shorter Oxford Dictionary.
torture - The infliction of severe physical or mental suffering; anguish, agony, torment; the infliction of severe bodily pain as a punishment or as a means of interrogation or persuasion; a form or instance of this.
socialism - a political and economic theory or policy of social organization which advocates that the community as a whole should own and control the means of production, capital, land, property, etc.
fascism - The principles and organization of the Italian Fascists, the Italian Fascist movement; a similar nationalist and authoritarian movement in another country; loosely, right-wing authoritarianism.
In the interest of clearing that up, at least in my mind, I thought I’d look up some things in my Shorter Oxford Dictionary.
torture - The infliction of severe physical or mental suffering; anguish, agony, torment; the infliction of severe bodily pain as a punishment or as a means of interrogation or persuasion; a form or instance of this.
socialism - a political and economic theory or policy of social organization which advocates that the community as a whole should own and control the means of production, capital, land, property, etc.
fascism - The principles and organization of the Italian Fascists, the Italian Fascist movement; a similar nationalist and authoritarian movement in another country; loosely, right-wing authoritarianism.
fascist - A member of a body of Italian nationalists which was organized in 1919 to oppose Communism in Italy and controlled the country from 1922 to 1943; a member of any similar nationalist and authoritarian organization in another country; loosely, any person with right-wing authoritarian political views.
authoritarian - favoring or characterized by obedience to (esp. political) authority as opp. to personal liberty; tyrannical, dictatorial
right-wing - Orig. those members of comparatively conservative opinions in a Continental legislature, by custom seated on the right of the president. Now the views and aims of any party or political group favouring conservative views. Also, the more conservative section of a philosophical, religious, etc., group.
conservative - characterized by a tendency to preserve or keep intact and unchanged; characterized by caution, moderation, or reluctance to make changes; avoiding extremes
nationalist - a person devoted to his or her nation
liberal - free in giving, generous, open-handed, unprejudiced, open-minded, esp. free from bigotry or unreasonable prejudice in favor of traditional opinions or established institutions, open to the reception of new ideas; holding opinions less traditional than those accepted as orthodox; favorable or respectful of individual rights and freedoms, esp. favoring free trade and gradual political and social reform that tends towards individual freedom or democracy.
left-wing - the radical or socialist section of a group or political party; the more liberal or progressive section of a right-wing or conservative group or political party.
oligarchy - a form of government by a small group of people
republic - the state in which supreme power is held by the people or their elected representatives as opp. to by a monarch, etc.; a commonwealth.
democracy - government by the people; a form of government in which the power resides in the people and is exercised by them either directly or by means of a elected representatives; a form of society which favours equal rights, the ignoring of hereditary class distinctions, and tolerance of minority views.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Kreativ Blogger Award!
Amy over at The Virginia Scribe gave me a Kreativ Blogger Award.
The Kreativ Award states that I need to list seven things about myself that people might find interesting. Amy listed 10 so I will try to match her. This may only be things you don't know about me, however.
Here goes:
1. I have an Associate Degree in General Studies from Virginia Western. I graduated with honor from the 2-year college in 1989. I actually had been eligible to graduate for a few years and no one told me. I thought I was still a few classes short when I transferred to Hollins.
2. I mixed up a soy protein shake once and added fresh blueberries and kiwi fruit in it and it made my throat swell up. To my knowledge I am not allergic to any of the three but the combination apparently was too much for me.
3. I once had a white poodle named Major. He died when I was 17; he was chasing my car and keeled over. My brother saw him die; I didn't find out about
it until I returned home. This was before cell phones.
4. I keep my fingernails clipped extremely short so that I won't bite them. They drive me crazy once they hit a certain length, which is to say, any length at all.
5. I hate to argue.
6. My favorite name is "Susan." I have no idea why. I just think it is a lovely name.
7. When I fiddle with tarot cards online or elsewhere, the Hermit card ALWAYS comes up. Apparently I like and need my solitude.
8. I try really hard not to eat chocolate after 2 p.m.
9. I hate to sweat unless I can immediately take a bath. Then it is not so bad.
10. I have a crooked toe on my right foot. It used to be straight, though. I am not sure why it is crooked now.
I am not going to award this to anyone; if you want the award, take it, and if you list things about yourself, let me know!
The Kreativ Award states that I need to list seven things about myself that people might find interesting. Amy listed 10 so I will try to match her. This may only be things you don't know about me, however.
Here goes:
1. I have an Associate Degree in General Studies from Virginia Western. I graduated with honor from the 2-year college in 1989. I actually had been eligible to graduate for a few years and no one told me. I thought I was still a few classes short when I transferred to Hollins.
2. I mixed up a soy protein shake once and added fresh blueberries and kiwi fruit in it and it made my throat swell up. To my knowledge I am not allergic to any of the three but the combination apparently was too much for me.
3. I once had a white poodle named Major. He died when I was 17; he was chasing my car and keeled over. My brother saw him die; I didn't find out about
it until I returned home. This was before cell phones.
4. I keep my fingernails clipped extremely short so that I won't bite them. They drive me crazy once they hit a certain length, which is to say, any length at all.
5. I hate to argue.
6. My favorite name is "Susan." I have no idea why. I just think it is a lovely name.
7. When I fiddle with tarot cards online or elsewhere, the Hermit card ALWAYS comes up. Apparently I like and need my solitude.
8. I try really hard not to eat chocolate after 2 p.m.
9. I hate to sweat unless I can immediately take a bath. Then it is not so bad.
10. I have a crooked toe on my right foot. It used to be straight, though. I am not sure why it is crooked now.
I am not going to award this to anyone; if you want the award, take it, and if you list things about yourself, let me know!
The Old Guy
I've know him now for about 10 years, this old man.
He was old when I met him, but still spry. Still working full time, even though he was hitting 80. He was writing a book and needed an all-around girl, an editor/typist/go-for who would help him out with this years-long project.
The day I went to meet him, I arrived at his house. I was smartly dressed, and courteous. I called him "Sir" and "Mr."because he had earned those titles and I have a deep respect for my elders. As we sat talking about his project, his wife came in and told me she'd backed into my car.
My brand new car, a 1999 Ford Taurus. The rest of the interview is a blur in my mind as I wondered what kind of damage was done. I do remember he wanted to start working immediately, as in, right that minute, when I thought I was only there for an interview. I gamely settled into what would quickly become our routine.
He sat on the couch, books spread all over the coffee table, while I perched in a winged-tipped chair. It was very Victorian, the way we were working. He didn't like a laptop between us and insisted on dictating while I wrote it all down by hand. His thinking was slow and deliberate, and there would be long pauses between sentences. I don't mean seconds, but minutes, enough time that I sometimes would wake with a jerk when he said something because I might drowse in the warm house.
Sometimes he took so long I would check to make sure he was breathing. I took in every inch of the living room. I stared hard at a bizarre picture over the fireplace mantle, a scribble that ultimately depicted the manager scene, complete with bowed heads and angels, if you could finally figure it out. I puzzled over an oil painting of an old woman. The painting was dark and black, the colors so faded you could scarcely tell they were there. I decided at some point that the woman was the old guy's mother. The two pictures did not go together at all. One was modern "art" and the other was not.
We worked this way almost twice a week for about seven years. He thought and occasionally dictated while I sat poised with my pen, ready to write, and prayed I did not fall asleep. It was not solid, not every week, and there were times we skipped months. He took a long break to recover from heart surgery. I had my annual illnesses in spring and fall. He agreeably waited until I was well enough to get back to work.
Occasionally we strayed and he would work on another writing project, an opinion letter for the local daily, something like that.
He continued to go into his office every day. I admired him for his efforts, working when he really didn't need to. Not giving in and giving up.
We had one spat during the course of working, when I was going through something and found my patience thin. We'd work for three hours and sometimes only come up with two or three paragraphs. It frustrated me. It was painstaking, deliberate work and sometimes as I waited for the next sentence I simply wanted to yank the words right out of him.
He seemed to comprehend that I was, truthfully, bored, and he made an effort to be more ready for me, to have his thoughts together better, and our hours planned so we could proceed. I gave myself a talking to about my attitude and we moved on, him thinking, me waiting, and eventually the book, all 600 pages of it, became a reality.
When our work was complete I did not hear from him much. I did not think about him growing old and feeble. I saw him as he was when I left him. I did not remember that old age is a wicked taskmaster, and at some point the crack of the whip breaks every one.
I saw him over Christmas, and he was looking much older. He was using a cane, and I could tell his vision, which had always been bad, was worse. He was still driving but I had long thought he should have handed over his keys. His is 90 years old, after all.
He called me this week to tell me he had a little project. He needed his girl for about 10 hours of work.
I found him much changed. He is confined now to a wheelchair, his eyes gone so that he cannot read unless something is in 24 point type, and even then he struggles. He hasn't shaved in about two months, I guess because he can no longer see to do it. His voice is still strong and he still has his wits, his sense of humor, and his desire to be a part of the human race. He has enough money that he can hire someone to stay with him and his wife, who is also quite unwell, and he can bring in someone to read to him, and call for me when he needs a hand.
But even the wealthy cannot stay the hand of time, and it has caught up with him.
It makes me sad, but happy, in a way, because he is still fighting. He will not go gentle into the night, this old guy. He seems to have accepted his blindness and the lack of use of his legs, but he is still fighting.
I wish I could tell you his name.*
*I have too much respect for him and his privacy to reveal who he is.
He was old when I met him, but still spry. Still working full time, even though he was hitting 80. He was writing a book and needed an all-around girl, an editor/typist/go-for who would help him out with this years-long project.
The day I went to meet him, I arrived at his house. I was smartly dressed, and courteous. I called him "Sir" and "Mr."because he had earned those titles and I have a deep respect for my elders. As we sat talking about his project, his wife came in and told me she'd backed into my car.
My brand new car, a 1999 Ford Taurus. The rest of the interview is a blur in my mind as I wondered what kind of damage was done. I do remember he wanted to start working immediately, as in, right that minute, when I thought I was only there for an interview. I gamely settled into what would quickly become our routine.
He sat on the couch, books spread all over the coffee table, while I perched in a winged-tipped chair. It was very Victorian, the way we were working. He didn't like a laptop between us and insisted on dictating while I wrote it all down by hand. His thinking was slow and deliberate, and there would be long pauses between sentences. I don't mean seconds, but minutes, enough time that I sometimes would wake with a jerk when he said something because I might drowse in the warm house.
Sometimes he took so long I would check to make sure he was breathing. I took in every inch of the living room. I stared hard at a bizarre picture over the fireplace mantle, a scribble that ultimately depicted the manager scene, complete with bowed heads and angels, if you could finally figure it out. I puzzled over an oil painting of an old woman. The painting was dark and black, the colors so faded you could scarcely tell they were there. I decided at some point that the woman was the old guy's mother. The two pictures did not go together at all. One was modern "art" and the other was not.
We worked this way almost twice a week for about seven years. He thought and occasionally dictated while I sat poised with my pen, ready to write, and prayed I did not fall asleep. It was not solid, not every week, and there were times we skipped months. He took a long break to recover from heart surgery. I had my annual illnesses in spring and fall. He agreeably waited until I was well enough to get back to work.
Occasionally we strayed and he would work on another writing project, an opinion letter for the local daily, something like that.
He continued to go into his office every day. I admired him for his efforts, working when he really didn't need to. Not giving in and giving up.
We had one spat during the course of working, when I was going through something and found my patience thin. We'd work for three hours and sometimes only come up with two or three paragraphs. It frustrated me. It was painstaking, deliberate work and sometimes as I waited for the next sentence I simply wanted to yank the words right out of him.
He seemed to comprehend that I was, truthfully, bored, and he made an effort to be more ready for me, to have his thoughts together better, and our hours planned so we could proceed. I gave myself a talking to about my attitude and we moved on, him thinking, me waiting, and eventually the book, all 600 pages of it, became a reality.
When our work was complete I did not hear from him much. I did not think about him growing old and feeble. I saw him as he was when I left him. I did not remember that old age is a wicked taskmaster, and at some point the crack of the whip breaks every one.
I saw him over Christmas, and he was looking much older. He was using a cane, and I could tell his vision, which had always been bad, was worse. He was still driving but I had long thought he should have handed over his keys. His is 90 years old, after all.
He called me this week to tell me he had a little project. He needed his girl for about 10 hours of work.
I found him much changed. He is confined now to a wheelchair, his eyes gone so that he cannot read unless something is in 24 point type, and even then he struggles. He hasn't shaved in about two months, I guess because he can no longer see to do it. His voice is still strong and he still has his wits, his sense of humor, and his desire to be a part of the human race. He has enough money that he can hire someone to stay with him and his wife, who is also quite unwell, and he can bring in someone to read to him, and call for me when he needs a hand.
But even the wealthy cannot stay the hand of time, and it has caught up with him.
It makes me sad, but happy, in a way, because he is still fighting. He will not go gentle into the night, this old guy. He seems to have accepted his blindness and the lack of use of his legs, but he is still fighting.
I wish I could tell you his name.*
*I have too much respect for him and his privacy to reveal who he is.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Humming Bee Moth
When I was on the Farm Tour a few weeks ago, several us spied this insect while we were sitting on the front porch of the Fincastle Winery.
I had never seen one of these before. According to this Wiki article, it's a type of hawkmoth.
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