Arms Wide Open

A Poem for Karen...

2011-10-13T07:35:00.000-07:00

Karen Hubbard Mitchell

Shoulders back, chin up

brown eyes hone in on the work,
nimble hands flying into action,
industrious soldiers of a sharp, rapid-fire mind.
Digging into life, slicing the challenges

as the swift Detroit River,
carving it's path with great intention.
By that northern town where the water is wide
she cut her teeth on usefulness,
the current that propels her

with steel determination.
The first born of Ben and Ellen,

who by sheer grit alone put education first,

she studies life with ravenous appetite.

She met Bob at university,

down south they went,
the doctor and his bride,

ears not tuned to the cornbread expression,

"Y'all come see us, ye hear."

A big city girl in a small southern town.

(God save the queen!)

She found her way,

transmitting that prodigious ethic

to the next generation,

championing women's advance,

a Girl Scout all the way,
infinity gleaming in her eyes,
grown wide

by the grand arc of those snowy great lakes.

~
Janice Baynes, January 15, 2011

(A commissioned poem offered at auction at the 2010 UUCS Auction. Like it? Come bid on this item and I'll draw you with words too. The auction, our 17th, is set for Saturay November 12, 5:30 - 9ish.)

Remembering Summer...

2011-08-18T10:22:00.000-07:00

The Conductor

2011-05-20T17:07:00.000-07:00

Kaci Cotter, D.R. Middle School Director of Bands

The Conductor

Cacophony in the band room

Random notes flung at the walls

Issued from eager green musicians

Who twine the middle school halls.

Just babies really

Budding in that awkward way

With fits and starts and

Tinny squeals as they learn to play.

But in all that noise

Lie the golden strands

That when timed just right

Open the portal to magic lands.

Ahhh, and up, up she goes,

A massive bird taking flight

Carried by the fledglings

She soars high, gyrating crisp and bright.

And all around in every ear

Blooms this sweet nectar of the gods

Drawn forth by one so skilled,

The wielder of the divining rod.

May 2011

2011-03-08T08:22:00.000-08:00

"Daffodils" (1804)

I WANDER'D lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

By William Wordsworth (1770-1850).

Seeing into the nature of things

2011-01-26T07:35:00.000-08:00

Late day sun washes into the woods, that same sun that washed through primeval forests, warmed dinosaur backs, cradled civilizations from glorious dawns to the last fading whimpers, this same sun falls into the woods by my house, the trees witness to this quiet and ancient dance of which I am a part. Time will push me into the soil too, me and the trees will yield with more rising behind us, pulled forth by the sun. It is the nature of things.

Birds in Snow

2011-01-12T12:24:00.000-08:00

Little brown birds pecking in the snow

along comes the cat and away they go!

De-decorating poem

2011-01-06T15:59:00.000-08:00

After the Needles Fall…

Defrocking the Christmas tree today
Throwing off her garland like a burlesque dancer
Off with it, girl, off, off I say!

I happened on two vagabonds
Lounging on the lawn,
Mr. & Mrs. Claus,
Time for you to hang
By your necks to dry,
Then into the body bag with you!
Until next year.

Miles of golden tinsel,
tangled lights snare everything,
like fish hooks grabbing.
Off with you, into the box I say!

My house was dressed in diamonds
Twinkling, dripping from the roof
Like love so dazzling in the night,
Knotted cords in grotesque clumps
Tell another truth by day.

Ah, the magic of it all
Is for the children
And those who feign incompetence
With holiday décor
The rest of us the elves
Waving our wands
To make it all appear
and disappear again!

Janice Baynes, January 6, 2011

Winter Solstice Celebration

2010-12-19T12:32:00.000-08:00

What a beautiful winter solstice service at the UU church this morning. Although my photography is substandard, the service was anything but!

One of the sources of our faith is derived from the teachings of Earth-centered traditions which celebrate the sacred circle of life and instruct us to live in harmony with the rhythms of nature.

To the heart beat of a native drum the choir sang, "We are a circle, within a circle, with no beginning, and never ending. We are a circle, within a circle, with no beginning and never ending..." and the congregation joined in on the chorus between angelic verses sung by solitary and joined choir voices. The music swelled and took flight over our heads, moving among us and in us as tears slipped down a few cheeks.

Equally touching was Solstice Chant: "Deep, deep, deep into the heart of winter. Deep, deep, deep into the womb of the mother. Deep, deep, deep where there is no other song but the song of my soul." Such music moves me in unspeakable ways, brings to the surface so much that in our work-a-day world is all but forgotten. We were moved and we moved, each with our own candle, our own light, which we planted in Earth bowls at the center of the spherically-arranged seating. We were uncharacteristically reverent.

The readings too -- from Black Elk Speaks; Uvanuk, Igloolik Intuit; and Julie Middleton painted pictures with words, truths as old as the Earth itself, complementing the mystic ethos. Such are the atmospheres orchestrated by UUCS Music Director Keith Plumley in consort with an unbelievably talented, albeit small, choir and supporting cast.

If I have any regrets it is this: that this morning's service and others like it will live only in the minds and hearts of those in attendance as there was no recording made...

---------------------

We are a Circle by Rick Hamouris :: Solstice Chant by Anne Bearheart :: Black Elk Speaks by John G. Neihardt :: Untitled readings by Julie Middleton :: Uvanuk, Igloolik Inuit

Good Ole Times

2010-12-19T12:04:00.000-08:00

I am not much of a teacher but I agreed to teach the upper elementary class at the UU church on the condition that I could do so with my good friend Barbara Cameron. She agreed and we set out with our Mystery UUs curricula. Our first subjects: John & Abigail Adams. Barbara won the kids' trust by giggling at the photo of Mrs. Adams, saying she looked rather "handsome." It was, admittedly, an unflattering image of the first second lady of the United States.

As we were brainstorming as to how we might portray this early American, influential, very scholarly couple, Barb could not get the Addams family tune out of her head and she suggested we re-write the lyrics to that famous tune to suit our own ends. We were laughing and kidding around about it when Zoey, shown in the photo with us here, says not quite under her breath, "Adults are weird!" You're right Zoey.

We did re-write the lyrics and Keith Plumley plucked out the tune on the piano while Barb, the upper elementary and junior high kids, and I sang our little ditty on a recent Sunday morning. The congregation was challenged to guess who our mystery UU characters were. There were many correct answers and some almost correct answers that were nearly as funny as our little ditty. Oh, and the ever-resourceful Kathleen Anderson provided the get ups to authenticate our skit. Just goes to show you, you might see just about anything at the UU church!

Kindred spirits

2010-11-14T15:02:00.000-08:00

Do trees have souls? They cluster in their timeless silence, just there, just being. Stoic they stand, rise and fall with the seasons, an endless stream of life which I can zoom past and never see but at what cost do I fail to see, really see them?

I walk among them, somehow stilled in their presence, stilled as an easy flowing stream. I am starved for their presence, to be in their sacred midst. If you think me a little cooky or outright mad, maybe you're right. But I am a happy nut in this ancient realm! That is "the thing" about them I think, that when I am with them, I am connected to it all. Maybe that's it...

Meet Cracker

2010-11-03T11:02:00.000-07:00

This little guy came to us a few weeks ago now. Jake named him Cracker. He moved right in and made himself at home. No hesitation. No tuna needed!

I took him recently to Animal Allies to get his shots and alteration. And who do I see there but Cleve Seay, a UU! Cleve came around the counter and gave me a hug while Cracker waited patiently in his pet carrier. In the afternoon when I returned to pick up Cracker, Cleve and the staff said he was no trouble at all. Yeah, Cracker would just as easily have moved in on them too. He's a very personable kitten.

Speaking of Animal Allies, I saw where they requested that we remove the "filler" junk from newspapers before donating them. You might have wondered why. I work at a dog kennel and we solicit newspapers for recycling too and I can tell you dogs can't stand up on that slick paper very well and it doesn't absorb liquid very well either. Also, the junk stuff is usually smaller than the newsprint and so doesn't fill the cage as efficiently. Now you know.

Animal Allies is a good organization and I am proud we support their efforts. You can reach Cleve at Animal Allies at 576-6871. The other beautiful feline "helping" cracker explore the box is Oreo, another stray we took in who was just a wee thing when he first came to us. He got to visit Animal Allies too! They do good work and Oreo loves his new little brother.

Coffeehouse Tonight!

2010-10-29T10:03:00.000-07:00

Hope 2 C U there. Always a fun time. Admission is a whole $2 plus a non-perishable holiday food item for the Total Ministries Food Barrel. Maybe there will be some ghost stories at tonight's coffeehouse... You just never know what kind of fun we're liable to scare up ;) A little bat told me there might be some new performers tonight... Fun starts at 7.

Fall nature shots

2010-10-27T17:13:00.000-07:00

Ahhh, fall in the Blue Ridge Mountains. I can not get enough of looking at the trees and hills to which I feel a strong spiritual connection that I can't quite name.

A Classic Tale

2010-10-27T13:53:00.000-07:00

Little Red Riding Hood in a chair
went into the forest without a care
when who did she see but Goldibear
with her coveralls and golden hair.

And Grandma was there too,
in her pink bonnet, thinking of stew!
Grandma, her cane she bore,
stalking game she meant to score.

Grandma's stomach did growl
for there was no meat nor any fowl.
Sly Grandma, had a plan, she did,
Into the pot and down with the lid!

What a fright for Little Red Riding Hood
who knew Goldibear was gentle and good
and so schemed and hatched a plan
to fool Grandma with a can of spam.

"Grandma, let me take this pig home to simmer.
Come tomorrow and we'll have a fine dinner!"
Little Red Riding Hood made a fine feast
and Grandma suspected not in the least.

Meanwhile, Goldibear played in the wood
glad her friend was gentle and good!
To this day Grandma says that was the best pig ever
And Little Red Riding Hood smiles, thinking how clever!

Beautiful and sad

2010-10-10T14:49:00.000-07:00

The service at the UU this morning was beautiful, a moving event carried primarily by the music. The topic, one seldom discussed in Spartanburg County churches, was domestic violence. October is National Domestic Violence Awareness month. I didn't want to look at this topic. Who wants to look at this vile and gut wrenching thing? Who else will look at this subject? We have to look and grieve for the suffering, for the deep and lasting hurt.

Statistics aside, there is still a culture that maintains there are instances when it is okay for a man to hit a woman and brutalize his children. (Female-to-male abuse does happen but is the exception.) There is a culture of male dominance and entitlement around here that makes it acceptable and patriarchal religions don't treat it as a crime against humanity or God.

I grew up here and was indoctrinated with male supremacy by my family, community, and church. It has been with me forever, woven into my world and consciousness as air and rain, as the pungent odor of stagnant water. It was not questioned. The code was transmitted in so many subtle and powerful ways. It took a long time and a lot of spiritual growth for me to recognize my own bigotry, to begin to thaw and emerge from my own attitudes about male supremacy/inherent female inferiority. Women advancing the patriarchy is not often talked about but is a real factor. The sad truth is that many, many more women never surface and live this "truth" their whole lives, pass it on to their children, help keep the boot on their own and all women's necks.

I don't feel that underlying current of male dominance, myself and all my sisters viewed as second class citizens, at the UU church. It is one of many things I cherish about our faith. It is a haven, a bubble of civility, in a region consumed by fear and all it's ugly faces. I'm not sure that those who didn't grow up under the cloud of patriarchal doctrine can truly appreciate the sanctuary that UUCS is. But many of you like me know at a soul level how sweet it is to live free of the stench of patriarchal dogma that binds the feminine spirit in grotesque ways.

I am very proud of our little church for giving this issue the attention it deserves in such a soulful, respectful way. I was laid open nearly from the first note. Sometimes music is the only vessel suited to convey certain soul truths and today it took me to the river of compassion and showed me how to sit there and be present with the awfulness that is domestic violence. Thank you Keith Plumley, Joyce Harrison, Bonnie-Lee Mizzell, Maurice Burgess, Don Rollins, and choir for your gifts to us today!

2010-09-29T13:44:00.000-07:00

Goodbye summer. 'Bout time you left!

Nature shots

2010-09-15T17:25:00.000-07:00

Took these this afternoon. This marsh facinates me, though I have no idea why the wetland trees are dead. It is on Old Canaan Road near my son's soccer complex. I have always been intrigued with the flora unique to bottomlands. The purple flower is back up on the roadside. It is kudzu and it smells like lavendar to me. An intoxicating scent. It is a narrow road with little or no shoulder. I walked in a dicey curve and over a narrow bridge to get these shots.

Jammin'!

2010-09-13T09:50:00.000-07:00

Nigel does his thing on the baritone saxophone in a recent impromptu jam session at our house. This kid was born with music in his bones, loves piano, drums, saxophone, recorder, guitar and the list keeps growing. He plans to play at the next UUCS Expresso Yourself Coffeehouse, which is coming up Friday September 24.

He and his friend, singer-guitarist Torey, plan to do a number (or two?) for us. Can't wait! That's one thing I love about our coffeehouses: all ages are welcome to participate and do. To me it is a reflection of UUCS, where kids of all ages are free to express themselves and feel comfortable doing so.

This month's coffeehouse will be special also in that it will have a nature theme. It is our first themed coffeehouse. I plan to read a couple of my nature poems. I sometimes paint with words because it helps seal the beauty in my memory cells. I stalk the natural beauty with my camera too but my acquisition of photography skills is like when you attach a bunch of photos to an e-mail and hit send: I am getting it very, very slowly!

Pretty!

2010-08-31T10:36:00.000-07:00

Roses & monkey grass greet the morning sun...

Still playing photographer but the manual is in Greek so there is still so much I don't understand. Perhaps the light of understanding will visit my brain as the morning sun illuminating these posies... It could happen!

Coffeehouse

2010-08-30T19:56:00.000-07:00

My friend Kathy Wilson took these candid shots at Friday's UUCS Expresso Yourself Coffeehouse.

Wish I could remember what Barbara was whispering... Keith obviously found it amusing too.

Mary Bracey and Teresa Hall need to take their act on the road. They did Dr. Hook's Cover of Rolling Stone with an especially interesting "drum solo."

Ron Fowler's "cool hand Luke" style is always entertaining. Speaking of "cool hand Luke," Nigel was among several middle school students in the audience, which spanned several generations. A fun evening!

Summer's finale...

2010-08-30T10:43:00.000-07:00

Knockout roses, monkey grass, and geraniums grace the late summer days as a hint of autumn chill slips into the nights. Ahhhhhh.

butterflies

2010-08-22T05:13:00.000-07:00

So many sappy poems written about butterflies that I cannot bring myself to attempt one, although I see their pursuit of the nectar as my own quest for spiritual sustenance...

Universe, may I feel light as a butterfly today and allow the currents of life to move me where I am suppose to go, preferably not smashed on the grill of a car! Amen.

Nature shots

2010-08-18T10:01:00.000-07:00

Nature shots. Love my trees!

Poetry at the UU

2010-08-08T15:26:00.000-07:00

My verse was well received at the UU church this morning. My presentation was packed. Actually, I have not counted precisely how many works I included but there were more than enough, perhaps too many to squeeze into a 30 minute session. Anyway, I got a lot of positive feedback and a lot of questions about why I'm not published. I have anguished over that question too many times and am to the point that if the Universe intends for me to publish, a way will present itself. I have never had much patience for nor perseverance with the business end of the writing business. Anyone know a good literary agent?

An Invitation

2010-07-31T05:55:00.001-07:00

Hello Nice People,

This is to invite you to a presentation -- "Selected Writings: Language of Celebration" -- I'll be doing at the UU Church of Spartanburg on August 8. Many of you have seen and read my journalism but you may or may not know poetry is my first love. I've been writing for years: it and mother nature are the only things keeping me sane.

I will share works from different eras, some profound, some personal, some downright goofy and some, well, I don't know what you'd call it. It may or may not be your cup of tea but I can guarantee you that you will not have heard it before! This is all original, mostly never-before-published work. My challenge is to narrow it down to a manageable number of works.

Now, some people hear "poetry" and they think of the maudlin I'm-so-miserable-let-me-count-the-ways, wrestling-with-my-personal-demons stuff churned out by so many college students. All honest poets will tell you they have at some point penned some of this stuff, myself included. I won't be reading you any of it though. That is best saved for use on unwanted house guests: "Let me read you some poetry," I say and whip out the anguish laden cauldron of college verse. It's more effective than telling them you've got a case of swine flu!

August 8, 11 a.m. UU Church of Spartanburg. See you then, or not...

Peace & light,

Janice

Fog

2010-07-31T05:17:00.000-07:00

One Foggy Morning

How beautiful is the fog!?!
Luscious gray tongues licking dew-kissed bottoms,
curling silent in the trees,
sacred breath of the divine,
moving on the world as a lover’s whisper,
right and ancient as a baby on its mother’s bosom.

Janice Baynes, July 2010

What a show!!!

2010-07-18T12:07:00.000-07:00

Pilley Bianchi rocked the house! The show this morning was off the hook, a most memorable service. Pilley has such a beautiful voice, such skill at the piano, and a delightful stage presence. She had us eating from her hand! Speaking of eats, the class and grace of the service was matched by the elegant champagne reception that followed. Hope to have some photos of both to put on the blog soon. There were several photographers in attendance. I kept waiting for Pilley to put the back of her hand to her forehead and say in faux exasperation, "Ah, the paparazzi!" An all around splendid affair.

In the News

2010-07-14T15:51:00.000-07:00

The story I wrote about Pilley Bianchi and her appearance at the UUCS this Sunday is supposed to run in the Spartanburg Herald-Journal tomorrow, Thursday July 15, in the entertainment section. I am very excited and anxious to see how closely what they run resembles what I wrote...

I've no doubt that the off-the-hook photography, by Pilley's sister, Robin, was a big factor in the paper's deciding to run the story. These photos are dynamite. We sent a batch so it will be interesting to see which ones they run.

Robin's gorgeous pix and Keith Plumley's finesse have got this cow to market! Wahoo. We'll see how it looks in print tomorrow... I wonder how early the carriers get the newsstand boxes filled with the hot-off-the-press papers. I guess it would be sort of sad if I pitched a tent in the post office parking lot waiting for the paper boy. But then I've always loved camping! :)

Jay Bianchi

2010-07-12T07:53:00.000-07:00

Pilley Bianchi's husband, Jay Bianchi, a gifted jazz pianist, producer, and educator will also perform during the service at the UUCS this Sunday, July 18. Jay holds degrees from State University of New York and the University of Miami, as well as a Performance Certificate from London’s Guildhall School of Music. He currently teaches at the New School University in Greenwich Village and travels and performs with his trio.

He is shown in this photo, taken by Pilley's sister, Robin, with Pilley and their son, Aidan. As captured in the picture, he is an easy going, laid back fellow and they have a fun family life with lots of friends and a free-flowing style all their own.

On the Saturday I was at their Brooklyn home, piano notes drifted through the house as Jay practiced for two gigs he had that day. In the afternoon, he played a private party at the Metropolitan Club, where he was instructed to play only cheery music for three hours straight without a break. In the evening he played a wedding in Long Island.

He and Pilley met at the University of Miami. Jay is originally from Buffalo, NY. Sunday's performance is set to begin at 10:50 a.m.

Our own Bonnie-Lee...

2010-07-12T07:37:00.000-07:00

Violinist and UUCS member Bonnie-Lee Mizzell will join local cellist Ted Lucktenberg in accompanying Pilley Bianchi when she plays at the UUCS this Sunday, July 18. Bonnie-Lee is the granddaughter of Clarence Guthrie, who, although he never formally joined, was among the founding members of our church in the mid 1950s. Her parents, Mary Ann and Herman Mizzell, were very active in the church until her mother’s death in 1985. Herman returned, with Bonnie-Lee, in recent years prior to his death in 2007.

Bonnie-Lee, who recently re-joined UUCS, took violin lessons as a child with several local music teachers, the late Jerrie Lucktenberg among them. Jerrie was Ted Lucktenberg’s mother, who first came to UUCS with her mother, Sara Cadek, in 1960.

“Music has always been close to my heart,” said Bonnie-Lee, a pre-school teacher at Cannon’s Elementary. “Ted and I were buddies in high school and I haven’t seen him in 30 years so this event will also be a fun reunion.”

“Bonnie uses great interpretation in her playing and has this glowing personality--what a gift,” said UUCS Music Director Keith Plumley, who has compelled her to play for Sunday services in recent months, using what she refers to as his “musical gravitational force.”

She sometimes also provides music for local weddings.

On a personal note, I didn’t think I liked violin music until I heard Bonnie-Lee play. One Sunday we were sitting in the sanctuary when from somewhere behind us blossomed this beautiful music, which swelled and filled the room with luxurious sound. Then I saw Bonnie-Lee slowly walking up the center aisle playing the violin. I have no idea what piece she played. All I know is that it was beautiful and lush and I will never be the same.

Local Players and NY Pilley

2010-07-06T10:42:00.000-07:00

Two local musicians with deep roots in the UU church will accompany New York pianist Pilley Bianchi when she performs at UUCS on July 18.

Ted Lucktenberg grew up in a musical family. Both his parents, Dr. George Lucktenberg and the late Dr. “Jerrie” Lucktenberg, made music their profession, both teaching at Converse College for many years. Ted, a cellist, often performed with his parents; they were known as the Lucktenberg trio and enriched Sunday services with their talent in the 1970s. His grandmother, Sara Cadek, who joined in 1960, helped establish the Unison newsletter. Jerrie, who died last year, taught violin at Converse College and the Governor’s School for the Arts. George Lucktenberg, distinguished forte pianist, at age 80 is still performing and also teaches at a Georgia university.

In April, Ted and his father joined Ted’s daughter, Hope, in a performance at the Governor’s School, where Hope, now graduated, was a senior violin student. UUCS Music Director Keith Plumley attended that performance. It was beautiful, Keith said.

Ted, an engineer with Lockheed Martin, and his wife, Karen, established the Lucktenberg Family Music Fund to benefit the music department at the Governor’s School in memory of his mother. He is shown here with his wife and their children, Hope and Stuart.

Stay tuned to read about the other local musician, Bonnie-Lee Mizzell, who will also accompany this performance, which will feature two pianos, one played by Pilley and the other by her husband, Jay. Case Brothers of Spartanburg is providing a Steinway & Sons grand for the event.

Freedom 365

2010-07-04T06:28:00.000-07:00

Every July 4th there is always a lot of talk about saluting our women and men in uniform who defend our freedom. And we do owe them our gratitude. Each of us, however, military or civilian, has a role to play. Gaining and protecting our freedom is best done off the battlefield, picking up arms being our last resort.

Our freedom as individuals and as a nation has it roots in understanding and basic civility. When I say understanding, I am not referring to some maudlin, soap opera, bleeding heart kind of thing. I am talking about being interested enough in our neighbors, fellow citizens, and people with whom we share this planet, to make it our objective to see things from their point of view. Ignorance is at the root of war. Ignorance of other cultures, and ways of doing things that are different from our own. It is far easier to close our minds and coast on assumptions than to engage with people we don't understand. When we close our minds to other perspectives, we seal our fate, entombing ourselves in mistrust and misunderstanding that crystallize into raw hatred, which drives us to commit unspeakable acts in the name of freedom.

Universe, let us put down our guards and our guns and love our neighbors as ourselves by opening our minds and hearts to understanding and civility, to the possibility that ours is not the one and only right way. (I've heard it said that war is an acronym for We Are Right.) It is a noble goal, to free our minds from the chains of ignorance not just today but 365 days a year. May it be so. Amen.

Broke Week

2010-07-02T09:16:00.000-07:00

At our house we have instituted "Broke Week." It's sort of like Bike Week only different. We are not broke, thank goodness, but, in order to maximize our grocery budget and free up some space, we are in BW mode. BW means we eat like we're broke, creatively putting groceries together that we already have on hand. Most of us have never truly been hungry and when we say we don't have anything to eat in the fridge/freezer/cupboard, we really mean we don't have anything in there that is particularly appealing to us at the moment. Obviously, though, at one point it did appeal or it wouldn't have found its way into our fridge/freezer/cupboard in the first place.

Did you know that frozen, pre-seasoned chicken breasts can be used to make fajitas and, as it turns out, green beans do go with fajitas. We've had Voila, the meal in a bag that husband kept refusing but, as it turns out, he likes it. Squash casserole, fried okra, succotash, stir fry, pot pies, hot pockets, tuna salad, homemade chili from back in the winter -- we've had a little bit of everything. It's like dressing yourself from the lost & found bin; it's something different all the time!

A fish tale

2010-07-01T12:15:00.000-07:00

Just came back from a few days spent at my mother's house in the country. She lives on a 96-acre farm where I grew up. One evening we had a fish fry. Funny story about those fish. A fellow my brothers know is an avid fisherman, as is his father. The duo are all about the sport and not so much about the eats, which works well for us, who are about fish fries and hush puppies and not so much about the sport of stalking them with a hook and line. They fish, we take the fish off their hands. This system has worked fine until recently when things went terribly wrong between father and son.

The father, who it seems hasn't discovered AA yet, is out at a bar one night and locks his keys in his car. Maybe that was the Universe's way of trying to keep a drunk off the road, maybe not. He calls his son late in the night to come help him get into his car -- apparently the father hasn't discovered Pop-A-Lock yet either. The effort does not go well and the father becomes irate, breaks the car window, retrieves his shotgun from inside, and shoots his son in the leg. Now the son is laid up in the hospital and may lose his leg while the father is in the county jail. In an odd testament to family loyalty, the son gets very upset to hear that officers tazered his father, who, suffering a bad case of DTs, tried to escape.

For our part, this is not good at all as we see our fish supply going down the river! Just when we had a good thing going...

Virgin Flight Narrative

2010-06-17T11:39:00.000-07:00

June 4, 2010

My friend Janet and I set out for Charlotte at 8:30 a.m. She also has a flight going out today so we carpool. We gab the whole way. I know we're at the airport when I see a jumbo jet scooting low across the freeway and disappear behind a brick building.

We arrive at the drop-off for U.S. Airways. There's a huge angel statue out front. Now I am getting nervous, my heart starting to race. Janet is going to park the car while I go to check in. I'm fumbling with my papers. I get to the counter and present them, relieved that everything seems to be in order. There is an automated check-luggage thing like the self-checkout in Bi-Lo but I don't process new information well when I'm nervous, which the man behind the counter sees so he casually steps around and helps me get my info keyed in, puts the barcoded paper band on my suitcase, and gives me a ticket with a number on it so I can claim my bag "on the other side." It's like the arm bracelets in the maternity ward so babies don't get switched.

I am to go to gate 15 the man instructs as my bag floats away on the sheet metal mechanical stream. Seeing my blank expression, he points to the right. Soon I am channeled into the rope maze, the line of passengers snaking along toward security. An old lady in front of me is talking about a new baby, a grandchild she is going to see. She has on lovely bright blue pants with a casual, mostly white button-down shirt and silver hair. The young woman she is talking to is going to meet her husband in New York she says. I am feeling very panicky and willing myself not to cry.

At the security desk, someone takes my paper and ID, marks my paper and waves me on. At the checkpoint I'm told to remove my shoes and sunglasses and place them in one of the cat litter pans along with my laptop, which must be taken out of its case, and my handbag (actually, it is Kathy's camera bag) and then step into the portal, putting my feet on the big yellow clown feet painted on the floor. And so I am herded along. After I'm cleared and go to retrieve my stuff, there is another lap top that looks exactly like mine. I am confused for a minute trying to decide which one is mine. Then I decide it must be the first one, as a nice looking young man is reaching for the other one behind me. I tell him if he opens it up and there's flowers on the screen saver, we've got our laptops switched. He didn't say what I'd find on his but he didn't look like a perve...

Later, down in what seems like a cave to me, the boarding waiting area, I quickly power mine up just to be sure -- yep, flowers. I am early so I have time to go looking for a bottle of water. As I'm heading back up the long, wide corridor, I meet Janet, who has by now parked her car and gone through security. I am very funny about my water. Although my family and many friends tell me water is water, I know better. I don't know how they do it but the Aquafina people have managed to bottle water that truly tastes like spring water. I grew up in the country so I know what spring water tastes like. All I can find is Dasani and other off brand stuff. But I have seen at least one person with an Acquafina bottle. The second person I see with one is a young man sitting in one of the many airport restaurants. He has his headphones on so it is a stretch for me, a sweet southern girl, to go interrupt this nice man to ask him where he got his water but desperate times call for desperate measures. I am disappointed when he says he just flew in from somewhere else, and that's where he got the water, at another airport. Drats! I relent and get a Dasani and go back to the holding area, and now I'm hot because we've walked nearly the length of the airport in search of the illusive Acquafina.

Finally, the time is at hand and Janet is there with me until they call my zone and I'm herded into the chute with all the other laptop-carrying-luggage-wheeling passengers on flight 938 to Laguardia. It is hot in the accordion chute as we inch along. The lady behind me is on the phone, telling someone she is boarding and will touch the plane with her right hand before stepping on for good luck. I think about doing it too as I'm pretty nervous now. At the end of the chute, a few bags are pulled out because they are too big and so checked late -- this flight is completely full so overhead space will be at a premium.

I forget all about touching the plane as I step onto the aircraft. There is a man standing there in a uniform I presume to be the pilot. He smiles cordially and says good morning. I make my way down the aisle between the sea of blue seats where some passengers are already seated. It occurs to me that I should check them all out so I let my eyes roam freely over them, looking for any suspicious characters among my skymates. My heart stops when I see the middle eastern couple, the lean, dark man with an agitated expression, the woman with her mauve colored veil, only her dark eyes visible and they dart about nervously. I know it is not politically correct to be suspicious of them but I don't feel like being politically correct. I don't want them on this flight.

I go on down the aisle, my heart racing but what else is there to do? I find my seat by the window, 29A. I fumble with my bags past a stately looking older woman who is sitting in the aisle seat. As yet the middle seat is empty. I find my seat belt and snap it on. Better to be ready! Puffs of cool air that look like dry ice fog from vents overhead. Thank god it's cool on this thing! People are stuffing bags into the overhead compartment. I keep my two bags with me at my seat. Good thing I'm short as there is not much room. I look ahead but the seats are tall and I can see only the tops of a few people's heads but mostly just navy blue seat backs.

Just now comes the third passenger and the stately well-dressed old woman gets up to let him in. He is a medium-framed young black man with smooth skin and a sweet Gregory Hines face. He doesn't say anything as he settles into his seat. I offer him a piece of gum which he declines. I wonder if he worries that I'll be one of those to talk his ear off the whole flight. Soon he has his headphones on and is writing in a small black journal.

I take out my little notebook too. The plane begins to move. We are backing out, a boat-like waddle. Now we stop with just a small bump, like when you put the t-shift into drive in an automatic car. Overhead they are talking about emergency exits, how to find the oxygen mask, etc. I am not listening. Do not inflate your vest... Oh God, we're bumping forward. They will sell me a pillow for $7. They've turned the lights off. We are bumping along, a sea of concrete with big jets parked here and there flanked by boxcar luggage trains. A white Ford Explorer looks like a bug scooting along in and out of the mammoth planes.

We yield to a small U.S. Airways craft taxiing by. We're moving again, the land boat bobbing along. Stopped again. I see the tower and the sprawling blue-topped buildings. There is a roar, a stead hum and the overhead vents are puffing out frosty air again. Prepare for takeoff. The buildings and tower are sliding by, giving way to trees lining the concrete shoreline. We are stopped again, bobbing a bit. Another plane waits behind us and another behind it. Moving again, turning right. It's all blacktop now. Bobbing along.

There is a huge roar. Oh shit, oh shit were are moving really fast. We are weaving and bobbing. Up, up and away. We are airborne. Rooftops drop away as we incline barreling upward, then a leveling off, the sensation like when I open my eyes when the swing is all the way back and I dare to look down. Not a pleasant sensation. Houses in rows, rooftops like teeth in the trees. Another "drop" and that cringing sensation again. We are banking left. The houses look like tile work. They are getting foggy. There are wisps of clouds whispering by. We are still inclined. It is still roaring. A fellow behind me hasn't shut up since we got on the plane. A child says excitedly, "Look how high we are!"

Gregory Hines still has his headphones on and is writing in his little black journal. I bet he is glad I am writing too and not talking his head off about this being my first flight and all.

The city is smoky below. We are banking into the clouds. The city is gone! The boat gently tilts. My ears pop. There is the city again, just blocks of brown and green with clouds flitting along. They are pretty white clouds in a sea of blue. Are we still climbing? I can not tell. The city is barely visible now, just faint pavers under the milky film of space. I am cool and comfortable. We can buy a beer for, what was it, $8? This information by way of the PA system again. I am so glad to be cool. We can take off our seatbelts and move about the aircraft. I am trying to put out of my mind the two Arab-looking people seated in first class. My ears pop again but it doesn't hurt. I can see the wing of the plane.

The steward is asking the people behind us if they want something to drink. Perhaps they looked thirsty....The plane shutters. Wisps of gray blue sky whizz past. It is bumpy.

"Beverage" he asks, an average-sized white, clean-shaven man in a pale blue shirt and navy pants. He looks like he would work in a bank. Gregory orders something. I peek and the city is barely visible. Now, nothing but clouds. Gregory is stenciling on what looks like a canvass bag. He has an orange juice iced drink in his hand as he works on the pull-down tray, a sheet from his journal lying on the tray between his hands.

He is stenciling, "WOW, you're going to" That's as far as he's gotten. It is all neat block letters. How does he do it so neat with the plane bumping and shuttering? The guy behind us is still yammering "I trained them all...husband...they are sixteen and eighteen...one was sleeping...," come snatches of his conversation. I pity the unlucky passenger who is seated beside him!

It is all gray outside the window. More bumps. Like a train speeding on the rails, jostling a bit, the 'car' rocking... There is the steady drone, the low hum. The waiter is delivering more drinks in little plastic cups. He has snake eyes that dart about and a slightly ruddy face. Oh, there is the city again. I wonder what city it is. Ribbons of road snake through black, solid patches. There are labyrinths with neatly arranged popcorn formations. It looks like we are nearly standing still. There is a river and what looks to be a stadium and tightly packed acres of popcorn, a clover leaf traffic pattern bordered by a diamond. Odd shaped pavers with sharp corners and lots of precise lines, the stones fit neatly together and broken by large swaths of charcoal-green. The pavers fade off into the distance and bleed into the clouds. They remind me of coves of a lake, snaking in and out of the landmass blocks of green-black. Peninsulas of crazy paving jut out into a blue-black river and now a shoreline. The plane gently rocks. We are over the ocean?

On the PA, they are rattling on about great deals on tickets, bonus miles... A huge waterway, more islands dotting the waterway. It feels like we are slowing down. More bumping on the rails. My ears feel funny. Can we already be landing? The pavers are getting larger and there's the clear pert white clouds again. The milky blue is clearing. It is very beautiful. It feels like we are moving very slowly. The pavers have nearly swallowed up the black-green swaths. It is a bright blue sky with many puffy white clouds. Another 20 minutes we'll be arriving at Laguardia...Beginning descent. More bumping. The Hudson River? I have to pee! A nuclear smokestack, that unmistakable shape. Tributaries like blood vessels snake into the pavers. a large swath of black green and a wobbly u-shaped lake. I really have to pee!

Back from the tiny bathroom. I could not get it to flush... Seat belt check. All electronic devices off. Return trays to upright locked position. I can see rooftops and swimming pools, bright aquamarine dots amid the rooftops. Must be a ritzy area. I can see shadows beneath the clouds, see the glimmer of sun on cars. Big puffy white clouds, a body of water with white wakes like jet trails. Those are boats! Rows and rows of buildings. Bumps. A baseball field. More baseball fields. More pools.

"Where are you from," Gregory asks. "Spartanburg, SC," I tell him. "I'm a freelance writer going to NY to meet a pianist and write a story about her. My name is Janice."

"I'm Archie," he says. He goes on to tell me that he's from Houston, Texas, where his family still lives. He is returning from a memorial for a friend in Dallas. He lives in Brooklyn and is an art director for Arnold, an international advertising agency. "I don't mess with the writers. I just let them do their thing," he says.

"I just wanna see that gecko run up Flo's dress," I tell him. He laughs heartily and then says Flo is one of theirs, out of their Boston office.

"I'm surprised there isn't advertising in bathroom stalls," I say, "not that I want there to be. Perhaps I shouldn't be telling you this..."

"Actually, they are already putting advertisements on urinal cakes (those blue deodorant disk things)," he says.

"What do you advertise on a urinal cake," I ask.

"Men things," he replies.

"Oh, okay. My boys would like that. Put a video game character on the cake and maybe they wouldn't miss so much," I say. It takes Archie a minute to realize what I mean. Then he starts laughing. "It would be way better than cheerios," I suggest.

He is quiet pleasant with an easy smile and a smooth way about him. We fall silent again. I don't tell him I've never flown before.

Making our way into New York City. Over water again. I can see the boats at a marina and dark swaths in the water. The tight brick work of rooftops. The big wing bounces, we're weaving and bobbing, the swing sensation again. Skyscrapers, two big bridges. This must be Manhattan. Banking. Touchdown, so sleek it is hard to know exactly when we went from bird to land boat again. Braking hard. We're almost stopped. We're here!

There is a rustle to grab bags from the overhead as passengers flood into the aisle. A few people get in front of me. I've lost Archie.

I have my laptop and my camera bag, which I have to maneuver sideways down the aisle. The pilot stands at the cockpit door, cordially bidding us farewell. I step off the plane onto the accordion chute and there is Archie, waiting for me.

"Just wanted to tell you it's good to meet you and I hope you have a fun time in New York," he says with his sweet smile.

"Thank you Archie. All those things I'd heard about New Yorkers being rude and all, see, you've proved that wrong already."

"I'm a transplant," he says chuckling as he makes his way up the chute and into the open airport.

I make my way to baggage claim and wait for my bag to pop out of the chute. Some redneck dude is hitting on a petite girl wearing a cowboy hat. "We are all cops, see, and we are in a motorcycle club and we come up here every year," he is telling her. He has a macho swagger in his denim sleeveless shirt, which sports a rebel flag and a logo that says "Hogs." His strawberry blond mustache makes his mouth look vulgar as he talks. He has tattoos on his arms. I think he's disgusting and I wish he would shut up but he is trying to impress the girl and so yammers on as we all stand about watching the yet-empty carousel. Then the bags begin to spill out and I am reminded of the famous scene on I Love Lucy of Lucy working on the chocolate assembly line. Will I be able to grab my case before it gets past? I stand on the ready, now having elbowed my way past the cowboy, who is considerably taller than me so he will be able to see just fine from the back of the pack, if he's paying attention.

I snag my bag and double check to be sure it is in fact mine. Yep, that's her. I head to the passenger pick-up area. There I see the middle eastern couple. I am feeling much more generous towards them now, now that we are safely on the ground again. Then I see the grandmother in the bright blue pants being greeted by an open armed young woman with a considerable girth. The new grandchild hasn't been born yet. I call Pilley. They are five minutes away she says. Traffic is terrible.

"How was your flight," she asks.

"It was great," I say. "I met this really cute guy. He was so nice..."

"Are you having dinner with him tonight then," she teases.

I call Jeff to tell him I'm in New York.

Pilley and her husband, Jay, soon arrive and we are off, merging into traffic, into the jaunty, throbbing rhythm that is New York City.

The Sultry South

2010-06-11T12:01:00.000-07:00

A friend invited me to go with her to a festival in Tryon today. A local band, some of whose members I know, will be playing and there are rides and fun things for the kids. She is a good friend and she has fun kids who get along well with mine. Sounds great. Only it's 92 degrees and gloppy today. I don't do gloppy. I melt like a snowman in a furnace on days like this. I'm not going.

Another friend said she was going to trim her hedges today so her husband can (finally!) get the shutters back on the house after they took them down some time ago to paint them. I like the heat, my friend said. She appears a sane person but how can that be? I tell her I don't understand it, that she likes the heat, but that I believe her and I'm not moving from the couch, in front of the fan.
I grew up in a house without air conditioning. In movies it is sometimes portrayed as sexy, the sultry south. I'm here to tell you there ain't nothing sexy about soggy drawers! A Spartanburg writer once wrote, "The only thing between hell and a Spartanburg summer is a screen door." Truer words were never spoken.

It isn't faith and tradition that keep families together in the deep south: it is air conditioning and sweet iced tea! Without them, there won't be much harmony in the household on days like today, when you want to jump into a kettle to cool off!

More NY pix...

2010-06-08T13:19:00.000-07:00

Top photo: Look again and you will see the acrobat who is in mid-jump, a pedestrian Evel Knievel, who drafted tourists to be his "cars." Count them! This is at Union Square, which is also shown in the next pix. In the third pix, "Molly" and "Mystic," sisters, grace the fire escape window. Bottom pix, Pilley has recycled a public restroom sink trough and made it a planter. She admits to being a "dumpster diver" and has a lot of really cool stuff around her house that she acquired in this manner.

NY pix

2010-06-08T12:58:00.000-07:00

Top photo: At the Flat Iron building. Next, Pilley has given the fire escape a homey touch with a basket of petunias. This is off her kitchen. Just like on TV, she raises the window and says hello to her neighbors, who are having drinks in the garden, shown in the third photo. Isn't that charming! Last pix, from a pier on the East River, which is only three blocks from Pilley's house. That is Manhattan in the background.

I'm baaack!.

2010-06-07T11:56:00.000-07:00

Hello Nice People,

Got in from NYC yesterday. Had a blast. At right, Pilley hailing a cab. She is very gracious; even though she's lived in NYC for more than 20 years, she is still southern in her manners, doting over me, her weekend house guest. I'll confess I was intimidated when I first looked at her impressive website and researched her on the web and saw all the things she has done and is doing with her music. I was scared to talk to her. But, on meeting her, I very quickly understood that she is accomplished, yes, but snobby, not at all.

I still have so much writing to do and so many pictures to show you but I'll get to it a little at a time. I am still processing the whole experience. In the meantime, the kennel is very busy now with summer vacation in full swing. So I'm helping out some there. Please stay tuned... BTW, must give a big thank you to Kathy Wilson who, also a very gracious southerner, loaned me her "baby," her Nikon. U da best, Kathy!

What a Day!

2010-06-04T17:54:00.000-07:00

I left the house about 8 this morning but it seems a long, long time ago. It has been a day of many new experiences, not the least of which was my first time flying. After becoming quite nervous while being herded along, feeling panicky, like we were sheep being led to slaughter, I soon evened out once we were in the air. It went by amazingly quickly, I with my little notebook writing furiously just about the whole way. I had a window seat and so spent much of the time peering out the window, watching the land become a distant jigsaw puzzle, all the pieces so neatly fitted and then the landscape was overlaid with white puffy clouds which gave way to a milky haze.

I sat next to a really cute guy, but we didn't talk much until shortly before we began our decent. His name is Archie and he is an art director with an international advertising agency. Lives in Brooklyn. Originally from Houston, Texas. He was really gracious, even waited for me when we got off the plane to wish me luck and tell me it was good to meet me. What a doll of a man! And did I mention he was really cute...

Okay, so after I make my way to baggage claim and grab my borrowed bag when it pops out of the chute, I call Pilley and tell her I'm here. She and her husband, Jay, come to collect me at the airport and we're off, darting in and out of traffic, so many yellow taxis everywhere. We're in Queens, they tell me. We cross over a bridge and there is a huge cemetery. I would guess it would be expensive to die here, or at least be buried, given the price and scarcity of real estate in New York, I say.

The buildings are low and gritty as we get into the old warehouse district, Brooklyn. There is graffiti on the pillars of an overpass. We pass a school, which Pilley says makes here think of a prison compound. Jay says it actually isn't bad. School is still going here, doesn't let out until mid June or so but they don't start until mid September.

"Do you have friends here," Jay asks.

"I do now," I say.

We park on the street and walk across to their house, which is a brick building that doesn't look at all like a house. It looks like some non-descript industrial building. We enter through a weathered brown door. Then through another door and up a narrow, old wooden stairwell. At the top of the landing I meet Molly, the calico cat, who eyes me suspiciously. I later meet her sister, Mystic, a smokey gray.

Inside the house, it is so quaint, with lovely antiques and a cozy down home feel with hardwood floors and a big poplar-colored wooden kitchen table with benches. The house reminds me of the old houses in Brevard that have been converted into restaurants. It has that come-on-in-and-sit-a-spell warmth, not at all like the chic, polished, sterile environment I imagined.

I quickly changed into shorts as it was a hot afternoon and the slacks I'd worn to fly in had to go. Afterwards, Pilley and I sat at that rustic kitchen table and talked, like old friends catching up. Keith was right, she is like that, like someone you've known your whole life. Meanwhile, Jay had gone to pick up their son, Aidan, from school. After they returned and Aidan and I exchanged pleasantries, Pilley and I set out.

Soon we were out and about on the streets of New York. We went by Fete but most everyone, including owners Jung Lee and Josh Brooks, were out, getting ready for an event (in Long Island ??) tomorrow. What a glamorous office, with big double paned glass doors with brushed steel handles that led into a posh reception area. We took lots of pictures.

Oh, and guess how we got there? We took the subway! That was way cool. We went into the scruffy tunnel and boarded a train. Then, at another stop, boarded another train. I was completely lost. We went to a beautiful park near Madison Square Garden, Madison Square Park I think it was called. Then to Union Square, where we got some apples and watched a shirtless, tattooed man with a ponytail do acrobatic tricks for the crowd.

Before that we went to this fancy shop, ABC Carpet and Home, which had lots of shiny, pretty, glittering things with really big price tags. We ate on the street at an adjoining restaurant. I don't really know what I ate but it was good. Oh, and in that restaurant, attached to that fancy shop, I looked up on the wall and there were steel tractor seats. Wait til I tell my brothers I went all the way to New York to see tractor seats on the wall!

A waiter saw me with the camera and told me I wasn't supposed to be photographing in there but I pleaded with him, "But I'm from way down south and here I've come all this way to see tractor seats on the wall." He just waved his hand, turning away, and said "I didn't see anything."

D Day!

2010-06-04T04:10:00.000-07:00

Today is the day. I've had a manicure, a pedicure, colored my hair, have done my research and chosen, ironed, and packed my clothes. NYC here I come, ready or not! Thank you for all the well wishes. I'm sure I'll have plenty to tell you when I get back!

I'm hitching a ride to Charlotte with a friend who also has a flight out today, just an hour or so after mine, on the same airline, so I'll have some company at the airport. And then Pilley will pick me up at Laguardia this afternoon. I can't believe it's really happening. I am very grateful for the opportunity and have my arms wide open to embrace it and take it all in. Peace & light.

Around the house

2010-06-03T10:46:00.000-07:00

Learning to work the camera and post pix to this blog in one whack. Hoo-ah! "Bitty Cat" curses his cuteness as it makes him a perpetual object of our affection. The purple flowers, whose name I don't know, and the lovely lillies came from my friend Jan Jerome's yard. Love my tangerine impatients and goldilocks too.

Our House...

2010-06-03T10:07:00.000-07:00

Been practicing with Kathy's Nikon. Caught these two doing what they do best. The fun artwork I rescued from a church closet during a spring cleaning. If it's yours and you've been wondering what happened to it, here's your answer. And, no, you can't have it back!

2 days 'til NYC!

2010-06-02T14:55:00.000-07:00

Got a pedicure and a manicure today. First time ever. Can't believe how good they look! The lady had her work cut out for her with my knobby toes on hillbilly feet and bitten fingernails but she managed to make both look darn near presentable.

Then this evening, after my manicure, I wasn't about to go sticking my hands in the meatloaf ingredients and so got Nigel to do that. My football-playing, first-born child grimaced the whole way, grossed out by raw beef and tomato sauce, plus a slimy egg and some other stuff. :-) But it was that or sweep the kitchen, which fell to Jake by default.

Jake and I refurbished the I've-seen-lot-of-action suitcase and got it looking pretty good. We worked on it at the kitchen table late last night.

They -- and husband -- are so ready to get rid of me for a few days so they can enjoy their "man time" in which they watch shoot-'em-bang-'em-up movies, eat pizza and all the white bread they can lay their hands on (I know it is evil so we have bread wars around here...), fart and scratch themselves freely. Charming!

3 days 'til NYC!

2010-06-01T19:41:00.000-07:00

Did a "dry run" packing today, to see if the case I was looking at would hold all my stuff without the clothes coming out with more wrinkles than an elephant's trunk. It won't. The other one I drug down from the attic is huge. I thought how very funny that would be, me lugging that behemoth behind me, for a two-night stay, as Pilley meets me for the first time at the airport. You could have all sorts of things in a case that size -- a Labrador Retriever, a dorm refrigerator, maybe a park bench, a deluxe set of encyclopedias...

So my globe hopping mother-in-law loaned me a medium case, which I hope will be like Baby Bear's bed, just right. This bag has seen more action than the back seat of a '69 Mustang, though, so a little saddle soap will be in order.

My good friend Kathy Wilson loaned me her really nice camera and I practised some with it today. My photos aren't as good as hers yet, though. I'll keep practicing. Maybe I'll get the hang of it...

6 days 'til NYC!

2010-05-29T09:40:00.000-07:00

Am catching up on some domestic work I've been neglecting. I'm all about recycling and being kind to mother Earth but I draw the line at recycling underwear! Time to do the laundry! I don't have a wash room per se so I fold clothes on my kitchen table. I tell people who come into my house that, if there's underwear on the kitchen table, there's a 98 percent chance it's clean (there is always that minute possibility that the guest has walked into something kinky but that's only a remote, outside chance. Still, there are never any guarantees in this life are there...?)

Speaking of kinky stuff and things that go bump in the night, if you didn't make it to the UUCS Espresso Yourself Coffeehouse last night, you missed another good one. I could just watch and listen to Joel Anderson play violin all night and the banter between him and Don Rollins is fun to watch, both of them natural hams.

My own hubby and son, Nigel, did a wicked rendition of George Thorogood's Bad to the Bone with lead singer Jeff on guitar, Nigel with his sultry baritone saxophone, and a supporting drum line played through Nigel's ipod. Both are so electronically adept and George would be proud!

Another "Partridge Family" act was Nana & Two Grandchildren, Abby Fowler (I wish she were my grandmother!) on keyboard, granddaughter Paige playing flute and big brother Tristen on trombone. The trio was simply charming and they played so well together as did Teresa and Chuck Hall, who found their groove playing a Steve Miller tune.

The patient, good-natured audience suffered through yet another of my scripted monologues, my lame attempt at humor, this one about my upcoming trip, and Jeni Allred shared some of her verse, this time calling on her sunny muse. And of course there were many other talented performers, too many to name here, and we rocked and rolled our way along for two and half hours. The good news is these coffeehouses will run through the summer, the next one set for June 25.

8 days 'til NYC!

2010-05-27T13:35:00.000-07:00

Never did find any shoes. What can I say -- I have awkward feet! But I'll manage... I had a little fashion show of sorts and got the family's opinion on my wardrobe, not that I'll listen to them anyway. After much stressing and some alterations, I likely won't be taking the cool little black party dress as I'm told folks don't dress up anymore to go to shows in New York. I had it hemmed really, really short, going for a Tina Turner look. (It looks great but you learn very quickly that bending over is not a good idea in a dress like that!)

No worries, though. I put together a sheer black spaghetti-strap top with some classic jeans and wedge heals, going casual-chic, going to a show! Didn't tell you: we're going to see Tony n' Tina's Wedding, an off-Broadway musical which premiered in 1988. It is the second longest running play in off-Broadway history and has ran longer than 99% of all Broadway Musicals in New York. Pilley Bianchi, the generous hosting musician extraordinaire in this saga, was the musical director for that show for seven years. OMG. OMG. This is just way too cool!

11 days 'til NYC

2010-05-25T06:47:00.000-07:00

Off to shoe shop this a.m. Asking Universe for sole satisfaction today. :)

Coffeehouse this Friday

2010-05-24T06:55:00.000-07:00

Hello Nice People! The UUCS Espresso Yourself Coffeehouse is this Friday, May 28, at 7. I'll be doing a bit about my upcoming trip to NYC. Do ya think NYC is ready for me?! And Jeff will be doing some licks on his guitar, although he is quite "shy" and so has devised some special techniques to combat his "stage fright."

Admission is only two dolla, plus a non-perishable item for the Total Ministries food barrel. See y'all there!

12 days 'til NYC

2010-05-24T05:34:00.000-07:00

I am, of course, very excited and pleased about the buzz this little blog is causing around the UUCS. Everyone wants to know when my trip is: June 4-6 -- twelve days 'til liftoff! The amount of energy I'm pouring into preparing is more in line with a two-month sojourn to Paris or Madrid or some other exotic overseas local. No worries though, the Universe has taken care of my urge to over pack with baggage fees! Universe is crafty that way sometimes...

I have been shopping for clothes, which, contrary to the feminine stereotype, I generally deplore. One of the first things I'd check off my wish list were I to win the lottery is 'personal shopper.' Just bring me stuff that looks good and is comfortable and spare me ever having to go to that *@#! mall again. I have been in and out of so many stores lately, mostly coming home empty- handed because I just couldn't find what I wanted; usually I don't really know what I want but figure I'll recognize it when I find it. Maybe that's an effective strategy. Maybe not.

I did find this really cool little black party dress at a consignment shop but later realized it is very hot, not in the good way but in the I'm-sweating-like-a-pig way. (And no, I'm not in menopause -- I've been a sweater all my life. Ughh!) I was going to return the dress but then decided to take it to my alterations lady just to see what she thought about possibly removing the skirt's inner lining. Before I knew what hit me, she had the scissors at it so it is mine now come what may. In the meantime, my mother-in-law, who "does" NYC every year, says people no longer dress up to go to the theater, wear jeans and such these days. Drats!

I've been shoe shopping because everyone tells me you walk a lot in New York. So I need something comfortable and cute too. In one shop, the friendly salesman said, "That's you!" with every shoe I put on and I got the feeling he'd have said the same no matter if I'd tried stilettos or waders. (BTW, an inexpensive way to aerate your lawn is to invite all your girlfriends over for line dancing on the lawn, in stilettos! But you have to limit the booze -- they have to stay upright for the trick to work!) I'm still looking for some good walking shoes. One shop had really nice shoes but I came out empty-handed with a bad case of sticker shock: $140 is NOT a sale people!

And so the saga continues...

Gaaah Lay, David!

2010-05-18T06:32:00.000-07:00

David Monn, who is considered by many to be "The" NYC event planner, creates atmospheres dripping with elegance and style to the umpteenth degree. He dressed the New York Plaza in spectacular lights for the 100th year celebration; orchestrated the Guggenheim International Gala; helped Tiffany & Company find just the right look for the Blue Book (jewel) Collection debut and the list of fabulous parties and ritzy events he's given the magic touch goes on and on. He's entertained celebrities, royalty, presidents and CEOs; is a contributing editor to Departures (travel) Magazine and is the expert event planner Martha Stewart called when she wanted to put together a wedding special, which also featured famous dress designer Vera Wang, among others.

What David has to do with anything is this: Bianchi Musica -- Pilley Bianchi and her team -- is among the entertainment creme de la creme that David calls upon to lend musical elegance to these fabulous parties. Now I never thought I was affected by celebrity but as it turns out, I am.

The closest I've ever come to meeting a real life celebrity was when then UUA President Bill Sinkford graced us with his presence upon UUCS's 50th anniversary. All the pillars of the church, the movers and shakers, were scurrying around getting things ready. Seeing these folks -- people for whom I have great respect and am awed to work alongside -- so affected by the anticipated visit threw me. I had no frame of reference with which to process this. So when the big day came and Sinkford spoke at our little church, I was clueless as to what to say to this man who loomed so large. I shook his hand and heard myself say, "I just love you," in my pronounced southern drawl, which always gets more pronounced when I'm nervous. But then this highly educated, very well-spoken, urbane man could not think what to say either! What does one say when a swooning southern girl professes her love to you on first meeting, nary a mule nor milkcow nor shotgun in sight!? "Well," he said, his voice faltering before he bailed out, turning his attention to the next person in line.

I'm not sure NYC is ready for me... Gaaah lay, wud jew look at thaaat?! And so the saga continues...

Red Alert: Don't touch that button!

2010-05-16T18:16:00.000-07:00

I did it again, held the door open for a computer virus to come in. I foolishly ignored the Norton box that kept popping up, something about needing to shut down the computer or did it say it needed to run a scan? I can not for the life of me hold the computer mechanics lingo in my head and so can't tell husband what the hell happened when he sits down at the computer and can't access the internet. I was finished with what I needed to do and so was sunbathing, thinking nothing more of the little "episode" in which the impostor firewall windows thingy kept popping up saying I needed to run this program as it has detected a virus or a Trojan horse or a demented cow or something. I don't know. Of course, that little thing WAS the virus! What a dirty rotten trick. Who dreams up these things? Imagine what they might accomplish if they set their creative talents to constructive schemes!

Husband is a patient man, God help him, and didn't give me the tongue lashing I know I likely would have given him had the situation been reversed. He ran diagnostic checks, defragmented, cleaned some cookies, got on his hands and knees and pulled wires out of the back of the computer and finally got on the horn with tech support, who ultimately did not solve the problem either. This is how he spent his Saturday night. He called for back-up and the remedy was found, by my father-in-law. I have no idea what it was. All I know is that it worked and I am grateful and my research may resume, with this mantra playing in the back of my head: Norton good, anything else, bad. Trust only Norton. Norton is my friend. Got it!

It's a date!

2010-05-14T08:20:00.000-07:00

The ticket has been bought. I'm going to NYC June 4-6, arriving Friday afternoon and returning home on Sunday. So now I gotta go shopping and find something to wear! And I have to get to the tanning bed to get the white shine off these legs -- don't wanna blind all those New Yorkers with these alabaster, cabbage Patch kid appendages!

Pilley and I have exchanged a few e-mails and have already had some giggles. This is going to be sooo much fun!

Pilley Bianchi

2010-05-12T07:49:00.000-07:00

Okay so who is Pilley Bianchi, other than this fabulous pianist and the one who unwittingly precipitated this whole adventure? She is the owner of Bianchi Musica, which specializes in providing just the right music for high-end weddings and other posh events. She often works with Jung Lee of Fete, from the TLC show "Wedded to Perfection." A quick view of the Fete website and OMG, this is some high class, gorgeous stuff. The designs Fete creates couldn't be any more beautiful or glamorous if Claude Monet and Sophia Loren had crafted them, with Martha Stewart and Ethan Allen assisting! So you know Pilley's artistry is off the hook for her to be getting gigs like these.

According to her website, which is equally impressive, Pilley has appeared as a keyboardist/featured talent on MTV, vh 1, BET, Oxygen, and HBO and is a 2010 judge for the Independent Music Awards and much more. But before all this, she took piano lessons right here in Spartanburg with Converse College's Carol Starnes, who is something of a legend in local music/piano circles and highly respected among her colleagues. A fitting follow-up, Pilley went on to study at the prestigious Eastman School Of Music, which only admits a small percentage of applicants each year, and then to the University of Miami for her masters.

You could say I'm bowled over by all this glamorous success and you'd be right. Wow, oh, wow! Don't you just love meeting people whose light is fully on and watching them shine in all their glory?! More will be revealed...

Wheee!

2010-05-12T06:20:00.000-07:00

I reeled for days over this prospect, me going to NYC to meet this pianist, Pilley Bianchi, and write a story about her. There was a painful few days of lag time when I didn't hear from Keith. The more time passed, the more remote and ridiculous the whole idea seemed. I had about decided that I would be relieved if she told Keith it wouldn't work. I don't need to go to New York to write this story I assured Keith. "Yes, but it is so much more glamorous," he said. Yes, Keith, it is.

Then he e-mailed and said he'd talked to her and she was enthusiastic about the idea. Oh.

"I am excited, terrified, giddy, guffawing, elated and did I mention, TERRIFIED," I wrote back. "I had just about convinced myself that this was a completely insane idea, like something I had dreamt, that would never happen and shouldn't, calming myself with this pseudo Zen thinking, and then I get this e-mail and there goes my serenity! My insides feel like that lottery gadget with all the little balls jumping....Trying to remember to breath...Where's that paper poke? Has to be one around here somewhere...Whew, whew, whew, innnhale, exxxxhale..."

This was on April 29. The next day I had my first contact with Pilley, via e-mail. More heavy breathing and lottery balls jumping. Then this morning Keith e-mails me the flight confirmation. This is really going to happen!!!! More heavy breathing. Wheeeee!

Me in NYC!?!

2010-05-11T05:44:00.000-07:00

This whole NYC business started just over two weeks ago when UUCS Music Director Keith Plumley, who I had been putting off a bit regarding "an idea" he had for me, said he wanted to send me to New York to meet and write a story about this fabulous pianist from Spartanburg who will be playing at UUCS this summer. I immediately told him I couldn't do it, couldn't afford it. "No, no. I would pay for you to go," Keith said. "But I just don't know if it will work with your busy schedule."

"I, I, I could probably find some room," I heard myself say, my throat tightening, my stomach doing somersaults. This was before the service. I have no idea what the minister's sermon was about that day. I was reeling, reeling, reeling, alternately ecstatic and terrified, smiling and tearing up. OMG, OMG, OMG this can't be real. Is he serious? I knew the answer to that. Yes, Keith was serious. But I've never even been on a plane before. And NYC! Me in NYC? Breath, breath... Wheeeeeeeee. I wanted to shake my head vigorously while blowing my breath out audibly, letting my jowls flap in the breeze. I had a hard time being quiet during silent meditation!

This is only a test

2010-05-10T07:46:00.000-07:00

This is a test of the emergency broadcast system. This is only a test. Had this been an acutal emergency, we all would have ran naked into the streets screaming "Mama Mia, Mama Mia, Please don't let me go."