Savvy South Carolinians: Alan Sheppard

Just because I can, and because I was recently telling Nostalgic Nana how much I prize my hairdresser, and because I know you'll like him, allow me to introduce Mr. Alan Sheppard, sole proprietor of Tha Cut'n Shed in Leesville, South Carolina. 

Once a month I drive sixty miles round trip to have my hair cut and colored by a man I consider to be one of the best working in the Midlands of South Carolina. It's been my routine for many years. 

As maybe you can tell by the distance, this place is out in the boonies. Rural, y'all. Alan's customers gladly do the driving. There are no walk-ins (the shed is not visible from the road) and appointments are made well in advance.

How rural is it? Well, let's just say you may want to have Dan'l Boone on speed dial in case you get attacked by a b'ar. Here's how it looks on the final approach to Alan's salon shed:

I could have my hair (my best feature by far) done closer to home, but not like this, and not for the very reasonable price Alan charges. 

The Bride Wore What He Made For Her

Alan has been married for thirty-five years to his lovely wife … she for whom he made every component of her wedding ensemble. As in, he designed and sewed it. Himself. For her to wear on the day she married him. 

He learned to sew while in the Navy. 

If I asked TG what I wore on our wedding day, he would say "A white dress." And he'd be right.

But Alan Sheppard can describe every last flounce, frill, and furbelow on the outfit he made for his girl ... right down to her shoes -- which allegedly had ribbons that laced all the way up to her knees -- and even her hat, which had a picture-frame brim.

He also put together her bridal bouquet.

"We were flower children," Alan offers by way of explanation of his unorthodox behavior. It's so cute! And romantic. I'm all about that.

Anyway, when I get all the way down that road I showed you a while ago, this sight greets me:

A possum may or may not be on hand to point the way but I know to turn left.

My Kingdom For A Pine Forest

Tha Cut'n Shed is like the Isla de Muerta: it can only be found by those who already know where it is. And I know where it is. But in case I forget, there's a handy arrow.

The shed comes into view right about that time. Alan's green truck too. Which, I don't know why it's parked there because his house is apparently just down the lane ... but the trees are so thick I've never seen it. He may actually share a camp back there with Dan'l Boone.

The shed's wraparound porch is chockablock with Alan's beautiful potted plants. He especially loves to grow cacti.

But he's equally fond (who wouldn't be?) and protective of what grows wild at the forest's edge, like these vivid roses.

Alan's an inveterate shutterbug just like me. We're always talking amateurishly about photography.

He rides motorcycles for weekend relaxation, not at all like me. Perish the very thought.

This day Alan had gone down to the main road to get the mail. He beat me to the door and struck a pose, said to say "Hi, y'all!" to my readers.

Color Me Back The Way I Was

My appointment got underway and soon it was time to wait while portions of my hair slowly turned a different color.

We got to chatting as we are inclined to do and Alan told me about a customer who has been teaching Inuit children in Alaska. She was home for a short time this week and came to see Alan and brought him an Eskimo Yo-Yo.

For real! He showed the toy to me and it's all kinds of adorable. Mukluks made from genuine animal skin and fur. Shhhhh! Don't tell PeTA! It'll be our little secret.

Alan has even learned how to use them. There are YouTubes of real Eskimos doing this.

In due time Alan had once again restored my hair to a happy state of shiny darkness. My own brand of easy glamour.

Good hair is a significant part of my identity.

Farewell Till Next Time, Friend

I settled the bill, made my next appointment for August 27th at 1:15, said bye to my friend Alan, and went out into the sweltering afternoon.

And admired my hair in the rearview before leaving, and even took a picture. 

Yes, I am vain. You will have to deal with it.

It's partly Alan's fault because he makes my hair look so good. Better than I can ever do myself.

As I drove away, this was my path:

And as my car's tires took to the familiar ruts in that path, I thought as I always do of how grateful I am for my hairdresser … his expertise, his professionalism, his respectful manners, and his kindly friendship.

Alan Sheppard is a savvy South Carolinian! To me he is in fact a godsend. I consider myself blessed to be among his cloud of happy customers. 

I wish you a blessed weekend! And good hair.

SkyWatch Friday: Lake Murray sunset

I was privileged to witness this majestic scene on the shores of Lake Murray in South Carolina on July 25, 2010.

Lake Murray is a manmade lake with over five hundred miles of shoreline. These photos were taken on the Lexington side of the dam, about three miles from my house.

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Summer and winter and springtime and harvest,
Sun, moon, and stars in their courses above,
Join with all nature in manifold witness
To Thy great faithfulness, mercy and love.

Great is Thy faithfulness,
Great is Thy faithfulness,
Morning by morning new mercies I see.

All I have needed Thy hand hath provided;
Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me.

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Happy Friday!

The more things change

So, you know the concept of spring cleaning?

I avoid that like the plague.

Spring is a time to be outside (I do not suffer from allergies; my sympathies if you do).

But when late summer comes and it is basically too hot to be outside unless you like your brains fricasseed right inside your cranium and your epidermis melting into your shoes, which I don't, I start changing things around inside the house.

Obviously I do some cleaning. High time, too.

I did so much of that the last few days that I was stiff and sore from bending and stooping and carrying and pushing and pulling and toting and polishing and scrubbing and ... all of it.

So I decided rather late in the day to go swimming ... something I hadn't had an opportunity to do since last weekend on account of we've had so much rain.

With rare exceptions I only take to the pool as the sun is going down. It's cooler and you don't have to bother with sunblock.

Also you know how I am about sunsets.

A South Carolina sunset as viewed from the pool while the cicadas are serenading the neighborhood and swallows chase bugs around the sky rarely if ever lets you down.

Erica had decided not to swim because it had gotten so late ... but when I got into the water I called to her real loud (she was sitting right inside the door looking at a magazine) and when she poked her head out the door I said it was in her best interests to join me. The water felt that great.

Meanwhile, the sunset was growing more and more fiery.

Until by the time Erica came outside, it looked like some sort of holocaust.

Cliche I know, but there you have it: fire in the sky.

I realize this next one is blurry but I like it blurry. Things are mostly a blur for me anyway, metaphorically speaking.

When I turned back around from taking the picture of my palm trees that Andrew planted for me and which I festooned with Christmas lights two weeks ago, the sunset had gone all the way off the chain. 

BTW I was in the pool the whole time, in the shallow end. TG asked me once if I'm ever afraid I'll drop my camera into the water.

Yes.

When it was practically all the way dark (nine o'clock ... I know June 21st was the longest day of the year but it certainly doesn't seem as though the days are getting shorter), I went inside because Erica and I were having a late supper of center-cut pork chops baked to fork-tender, seasoned with worcestershire sauce and Tony Chachere's, and served on soft buns with Kettle Krinkle Cut potato chips (salt and fresh ground pepper flavor) on the side and ice-cold Diet Pepsi to drink.

There's a pork chop left over if you want it.

But before I sat down to eat I took a picture of my favorite finial. I took it with no flash, which I love doing. I also love finials. I got this one at Tuesday Morning.

And then I admired my handiwork around the house, including the newly-arranged country bear corner in the family room. Don't the bears look contented?

That's because they are. And so am I.

Happy Thursday! 

Wordless Wednesday: lightning lighting light

What else to do on a rainy day when you can't swim, except play with Christmas lights you never put away in the attic?

And take 182 pictures to get just ONE of a bolt of lightning?

And move a lamp and a ceramic rooster to another side of the kitchen so they look all new?

That's how my feeble mind works.

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So not cool

Erica was obliged to go out of town this weekend. She went to Georgia.

You know. Cracker land!

Being truly white, we had no doubt she'd fit right in.

How she looked forward to her trip! As we are wont to do.

Before she left, TG and I urged her to take her car in for some service she'd been putting off.

So she did, last Friday. I followed her so as to provide a ride back home.

While at the service center she asked Mr. Goodwrench to check her tires and fluids as she was going on a trip.

OK sure thing! he said. He might or might not've added little lady!

Some Like It Hot ... But Not Us

Only, she wasn't ten miles down I-20 West on Saturday before her car overheated.

Of course she called her father, who hastened to her rescue.

Turned out her cooling system was woefully lacking in that sine qua non of engine temperature regulation: coolant.

TG got her back on the road and she made it to the Peach State without incident. And had lots of fun with the crackers.

Met nary a black panther, God be praised.

Although that may've been a possum peeking out of the woods.

I Love The Smell Of Retribution In The Morning

Today TG showed up at the service center right about the time they opened. He even beat the manager up in.

He shared a copy of Erica's invoice with a pair of Mr. Goodwrenches-in-training who were minding the store.

They were duly apologetic (not apoplectic ... that was me) when TG pointed out that they hadn't done their job and it had resulted in two people suffering extreme aggravation (in 102-degree heat, I might add), not to mention possible damage to Erica's car and (heaven forfend) even injury to her person.

Permanent Denizens Of Sorryville

Oh, sorry, sir! That shouldn't have happened. But we can't do anything till the manager arrives.

Plus she'll have to bring the car back in.

Okefenokee-Dokie! We'll leave it at that. Who cares that Erica now must surrender her vehicle a second time so they get a second pass at what they should've done in the first place?

Or let the trained monkeys handle? You know ... the ones they keep on hand to organize the wrenches?

So not cool.

Fail. 

I recommend she sue.