Monday Mirth :: run

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Happy Monday :: Happy Easter Week

Savannah ... it was a trip

I was aiming for those birds up there

I cannot believe it has been two whole weeks since the pirate had a birthday.

We did go to Savannah G-A, for two nights and parts of three days.

It was much as we'd left it the last time we visited, several years ago.

I bungled part of my birthday in that I picked the wrong place to eat supper. I won't go into details but my choice, though based upon a past good experience, turned out to be not what I anticipated.

I won't be making that mistake again.

The main gate at Wormsloe ... not an entrance

Next time we visit Savannah, I will make it a point to dine at The Pirates' House, which will be a whole new culinary adventure.

Can you believe I've never been there? Me neither. We have our heading.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Meanwhile here's what we did: on my actual birthday, we traveled to Savannah -- a trip which takes under three hours -- and walked on the waterfront.

The fireplace outside Wormsloe's gift shop

Though not even among the top ten oldest cities in America, Savannah is an old city. Thus the architecture is fascinating.

Also there are cobbled streets and perilous sets of stone steps to climb, to get from River Street down to Riverfront Plaza.

I have long had a penchant for pointing my camera upwards to where roof lines of impressive buildings meet a pretty sky.

That's how I came up with one of perhaps a half-dozen pictures I took on my birthday.

TG concluded that the building, featuring massive iron X shapes at both ends, apparently is held together by iron cables that run the length/width of the building, under the floors or above the ceilings, connected to the iron X's.

I could have spent an hour in here

At least that's what appears to be going on. I just liked how it looked, although at first, I was aiming for the birds perching at the top against the blue.

The shops and establishments along the waterfront, in addition to the nice hotels, are your basic restaurants, bars, souvenir shops, and huge candy stores.

We did buy some candy. It was good. TG is inordinately fond of chocolate-covered pretzels, and they were available in abundance.

I even got one. The chocolate coating had been dredged in Butterfinger crumbs. Excellent.

I walk on Oak Alley one day after my birthday

We bought postcards and fridge magnets like we do everywhere we go. That's how boring and predictable we are, hahaha but somehow I enjoy doing that.

I send the postcards to the grandkids. Our Stephanie, when she was little, loved receiving postcards in the mail, and I think that kids still do.

By far my favorite store on the waterfront is The Mad Hatter. I bought a hat there many years ago that I have worn slap out, except it will survive me -- it's a quality soft woven straw with a huge brim and a black chiffon scarf. 

I wear it when I walk in the summer, and I wear it in the pool to keep the sun out of my eyes, and I love it.

No picture could do justice to the beauty there

But on this visit I bought a fancy hat, which I plan to wear on Easter and you know I will share a picture of all of us in our Easter finery, at church.

Can you believe that's a week from Sunday? Early this year.

Speaking of early, we returned to our hotel on my birthday at what would likely seem an early hour to most, but I was weary of roaming and wanted to rest.

The next day, a Friday -- two weeks ago tomorrow -- was a beautiful day with perfect weather.

I had my coffee in the room and TG brought me a bagel from the breakfast bar, but when we headed out I was in the mood for a nosh.

TG beside an old silo

We stopped at a place called The Diner (open 24 hours) and I enjoyed peach French toast and more coffee, while TG had scrambled eggs and bacon.

From there we navigated to Wormsloe Plantation.

Wormsloe was built on a 500-acre grant from the Crown to Noble Jones, who arrived in Georgia in 1733 along with James Oglethorpe, and the rest is history.

On Wormsloe is the oldest standing structure in Savannah: the ruins of Noble Jones's tabby mansion.

There isn't much left but what there is, is interesting enough if you're into that sort of thing.

And then there's me

It's been on my radar for many years to walk Oak Alley at Wormsloe, and after admiring an outdoor fireplace and plundering their fantastic gift shop, we did that.

Oak Alley -- a mile or more of Southern Live Oaks that line either side of a dirt avenue, their Spanish-moss-festooned branches arching overhead to touch one another -- is one of those things you must see to appreciate.

We were told that direct descendants of Noble Jones still occupy forty acres cheek-by-jowl with Oak Alley. You could look to your left and see the outbuildings on their estate.

Other than the alley of oaks, there is not a whole lot to see at Wormsloe. There are the ruins, and a single grave marker that is more of a monument to the Noble Jones family than an actual resting place.

The tabby ruins: oldest standing structure in Savannah

After doing all of that, we were tired and opted to ride the trolley back down Oak Alley, back to the gift shop and parking lot and so forth.

On the way we received a strident and vaguely accusatory lecture on slavery. We were urged to buy a book in the gift shop that would further educate us on the subject.

We were semi-shamed for coming there just to see some oak trees.

The driver pointed out that when Wormsloe was turned into a historical site that folks could visit, sometime in the nineteen seventies, tour guides placed heavy emphasis on the Colonial aspects of life there back in the day.

And while she didn't come right out and say it in so many words, her tone suggested that such emphasis proves how racist we are as a country.

Monument to Noble Jones and his kindred

And implied that the emphasis should have been placed heavily on slavery, from day one.

(Because it's our job now to constantly emphasize everything America and Americans have ever done wrong, and to not just ignore anything we have done right, but deny that we have ever done anything right at all.)

I looked around and saw that everyone on the trolley, by my estimation, was at least fifty years old.

Leading me to conclude that everyone on that trolley was aware that slavery existed in the antebellum South, and that in visiting a plantation that predated the Civil War by over one hundred years, we were walking on land where there once were slaves.

But the female trolley driver, as she guided the multi-car vehicle over the bumps and ruts of Oak Alley, delivered what amounted to a sermon, for practical reasons omitting only the altar call where we would be invited to prostrate ourselves and repent.

Rhett, doing his coloring at Carey Hilliard's Restaurant

Of something that we ourselves did not do.

No thanks. I believe that I am sensitive enough to the issue of slavery -- no, it wasn't right. If I had my way, no one would ever have been, or ever be, enslaved by another human being.

No one in their right mind would say, or think, or desire, anything different than that.

But slavery was abolished in the United States. A long time ago. And no, I cannot do anything about something that happened more than a century -- and even longer -- before I was born.

I can't do anything about something which has existed practically since human beings were created, but in which I have never participated.

Two cousins and a phone box

For that matter, slavery exists all over the world, to this day. But hardly anyone seems to ever want to talk about that. 

Because you can't blame America for that. Oh wait. Yes you can. It's Trump's fault.

At any rate, we endured the bumpy ride and the self-righteous faintly rebuking monologue by the trolley driver, then exited said conveyance and went back to our car, none the worse for wear.

That same day, in the afternoon, Audrey was loading up daughter Dagny and nephew Rhett (two of our eight grandchildren) in Columbia, and heading for Savannah to join us.

I would have bought this if it had been for sale

We met them for supper that night at Carey Hilliard's, a local restaurant chain known for their fried chicken.

There we had a wonderful meal and talked about our schedule for the next day.

Originally the plan had been to take the children to Wormsloe on the Saturday.

But the weather forecast stopped us: Saturday was to be nothing but rain, and Wormsloe is ninety-nine percent an outdoor activity.

The B-17 City of Savannah

Besides, the kids would not have liked Wormsloe; it was nothing but walking, and not much to see.

So we changed tactics and decided to take the kids to the National Museum of the Mighty Eighth Air Force in Pooler, Georgia.

After dinner we went to our respective hotels, having set a time to meet at the museum the next morning.

The rain came as promised, and we met up as promised.

This is the first exhibit to meet your startled eyes

The museum is very well done, and I would recommend that history buffs -- especially those of the World War Two variety -- make plans to visit there, if you can.

Museum exhibits as a rule don't necessarily thrill kids, but there were interactive features which Dagny enjoyed, and small theaters here and there showing documentaries, and several gorgeous airplanes, including the City of Savannah, a B-17 bomber.

Before we even set a foot in the exhibits, though, we spent twenty minutes in the gift shop.

I bought a magnet commemorating D Day, and a small toy plane for Rhett. He carried it carefully for the rest of the trip.

This was my favorite exhibit of them all

TG picked out two books, which on the spot I ordered for him on Thriftbooks, saving at least fifteen dollars.

Just call me Clever Clogs.

Flags and banners were everywhere. If I could have, I would have bought the banner of the 44th Bomb Group.

But it was not for sale.

(My favorite number is 44, and my father's initials were BG. He was trained as an Air Force fighter pilot, although he never saw combat.)

Dagny with cousin Elliot on the Sunday at church

About halfway through the tour, I found my favorite exhibit by far: remnants of a Nazi flag that was captured upon the liberation of six thousand American prisoners of war at Stalag VII-A in Moosburg, Germany, on April 29, 1945.

The POWs signed the flag and put their home towns, and whatever else they wanted to write.

The flag is displayed like a huge table, under glass, so that you can walk around it and read what the American heroes wrote.

I read many of the entries; there was no bitterness, no cursing, no blame, no vitriol inscribed there.

Only gratitude, and love, and joy.

Elliott's big brother Rhett posed with my balloons

How I wish we could get back to that, as a nation.

By the early afternoon, the kids were done but TG still wanted to wander amongst the exhibits, so Audrey and I took the children to the Cracker Barrel next door, and fed them.

Rhett, after one bite of a chicken tender, fell sound asleep on his Aunt Audrey's lap. We had worn the boy out.

Shortly after that, we collected TG and both cars headed for home. We pulled into our driveway right around seven o'clock and went inside to set the clocks forward an hour.

There was a luscious cake under glass ...

The next evening, after our hour-long Sunday night service at church, we all repaired to Chad and Erica's house for my birthday party.

There was a splendid cake, and the requisite birthday balloons.

But hold your horses. First, I'd made Naughty Hammie Sammies and Erica had made a tangy slaw, and we all chowed down on that.

Mike, Audrey's beau, had returned from his two-week business trip to China and had brought gifts for everyone.

There were luscious silk scarves from Hong Kong, and precious mother-of-pearl inlaid purse mirrors.

... to which we laid complete waste

In addition, my children had bought me some lovely things for my birthday.

We tucked into that cake and it was scrumptious, and then we visited some more before heading for home.

Goodness. We do drag it out, don't we?

I haven't even told you about our party (it's been a month ago now) to celebrate our grandson Andrew's turning twelve.

Our grandson, contemplating what it means to be twelve

Andrew belongs to the North Carolina contingent, and we met as usual at the Cracker Barrel on the line where the two Carolinas meet, for a meal and a birthday party.

He was born on two twenty-two twenty twelve, at two thirteen in the afternoon. How the years fly by.

That about covers it until Audrey's birthday this coming Friday, which will be celebrated with a cookout here at Casa Weber on Saturday.

We cannot do it on Friday because that's the day that Audrey and TG are traveling to Jacksonville, Florida, where they have VIP tickets to see, hear, and meet Dr. Jordan Peterson as part of his We Who Wrestle With God tour.

It's not a birthday without balloons

They'll be back on Saturday afternoon and they'll have lots to tell us at the party.

Then, on Tax Day, our Allissa turns sixteen. 

There will be another party, as well as a full report to follow.

Meanwhile I hope you are doing well and that you'll tell me all about it in the comments.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Thursday

Monday Mirth :: think again

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Happy Monday

Monday Mirth :: I get a kick out of you

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Happy Monday

I'm humming something

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Our daughter-in-law, Brittany, sent me this candy dispenser for my birthday.

Which is today. Can you believe? Again? Make it stop already.

The dispenser holds three different kinds of candy. In case you're wondering or cannot tell, what's currently in there are Peanut Butter m&m's, Skittles (the original lime-up), and Jelly Belly jellybeans.

At this early stage in the game I will only say that it's a tad bit too easy to depress the lever and dispense several delectable treats into your hand.

Once a day would be too many times. But who's going to do that only once a day? It's a delicious dilemma.

Be that as it may, we're off to Savannah for a few days, leaving my candy dispenser, for the most part, unattended.

We plan to visit Wormsloe Plantation and the National Museum of the Mighty Eighth Air Force.

The alarm will be on here at the domicile, so don't try anything.

If you do decide to come in anyway, heed a pirate's advice: keep to the code.

p.s. Thank you to those precious blog buddies and friends who have sent birthday cards. I treasure them and you.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Thursday

Monday Mirth :: gallows humor

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Happy Monday

Speaking of which

Our Mike in Greenville

A week ago last Saturday, a bunch of us went to Greenville.

That's a less-than-two-hour drive from Columbia.

The reason for our excursion was for Mike to meet my relatives who live there: my big sister Kay, her husband, Pierre-Philippe, and of course Henry, my mother's widower. I have two nieces and a nephew who live there too, and Mike met one of my nieces -- Susanna.

In one car it was Mike, Audrey, and Dagny -- hereafter collectively known as Maudag.

In the other car -- mine -- was me, Erica, and Baby Elliot.

Dagny was put to work grinding coffee beans

TG went in the other direction, to Charleston, that day, to see a basketball game at his alma mater, The Citadel.

Rhett stayed at home with his dad, Chad, who is using all of his spare time to complete a room he is building onto their house.

It's going to be pretty great when it's done, and he's getting it closer to completion.

We set out mid-morning, bound for my sister's house first, where we were set to have coffee, with coffee cake supplied by me.

Which meant I had to make a stop to buy said treat, and as it turned out I paid too much.

Audrey got her hands on Baby Elliot

Hint: If you need a coffee cake, go to either Walmart or Aldi. The exact same thing will be significantly cheaper -- as in, half as much -- than what you'll find at any other grocery store.

Anyway, no big deal but I did stop and buy the cakes and when Erica and I arrived at Kay's, Maudag were already there and the introductions had been made.

My brother-in-law put Dagny to work grinding the beans that he would use to make our coffee in a French press.

Then he made one pot of strong, hot coffee, and then another, so that there would be plenty.

We had our cake and coffee and about an hour of pleasant conversation.

I paid too much for these but they were really good

In addition to it being her first time to meet Mike, my sister had also not yet met Baby Elliot, who is five months old. She was still in cancer treatments when he was born, and has since been recovering from those.

She's doing well and in anticipation of seeing TG's and my youngest grandson for the first time, she had bought him some teething toys in the shape of tools. 

They came with ribbons and clamps to attach the teethers to his clothing.

He's been munching and drooling on those teethy tools ever since.

That visit concluded, we hugged and kissed our goodbyes and drove the three-or-so miles to Henry's house.

My sister had bought Baby Elliot some teething tools

He was waiting for us, and we had a nice time chatting with him.

He and Mike sat in Henry's sunroom slash home office and conversed for about twenty minutes while we girls rested in my mother's great room, which still looks exactly as it did when she was alive.

Henry had pulled some books and other materials and made piles on the dining table, for each of us girls to take.

Mine included a few coffee table books I had given to my mother in the past, and a picture album.

He hadn't planned on parting with the mirror-framed portrait of Kay and me and our mother taken in late 1958 or early 1959 just yet, but when I was showing it to Mike, Henry insisted that I go ahead and take the picture home with me, along with its wrought iron easel.

Elliot is partial to the blue hammer

My mother gave me a copy of this picture many years ago but to my shame I must admit that I don't know where it is. Probably packed away somewhere.

So now I have the splendid photograph in its splendid frame, and it is on display in my front room.

Speaking of the front room, we've made other changes there.

For many years the far wall -- even the chair rail -- was painted black, and a I used it as a photo backdrop.

Then for several years I erected an actual temporary backdrop framework and hung various photographic backdrops there, for various occasions.

Dagny posed first with her Great-Uncle Philippe ...

In recent years I'd moved the whole thing forward about twenty inches so that I could store seasonal decoration bins behind the backdrop. 

These were apart from my Christmas bins, which are huge and heavy, which for all the years since we moved into this house in 2005, were stored in the attic.

The problem with that was that the bins were much too heavy for TG to move down from the attic each fall, by himself. And I'm sure you know that I was no help.

For the past several years, Chad has always come over to help TG get the Christmas bins down, and then to put them back up there in January.

It was a huge hassle. And storing the rest of the (much smaller and lighter) seasonal bins behind the photo backdrop was not exactly an elegant solution either.

... and then with her Great-Aunt Kay

If you didn't already know they were there you would never know they were there unless you went prowling around back there, which no one ever did ... but still.

Another hassle was two sheds -- well, more like one shed and one much smaller shed-like outdoor storage cabinet -- that we inherited from the previous owner of our house, out back by the pool.

The cabinet one stored TG's pool supplies and the larger shed was just full of pool toys and tiki torches and similar junk.

Also the doors would no longer stay closed on the larger shed and we had to bungee-cord them shut.

Precious.

Heirloom photo of (L to R) me, my mother, and my sister

So, just before Christmas, TG ordered a new shed and took down the two old sheds.

Construction of the new shed was completed a few weeks ago, and all of my storage bins for all of the different seasons, are now stored in there. 

Enough room was left over for decor pieces I am not using right now, and related stuff that I can now retrieve easily just a few steps from the doors leading out to the pool.

(The last hurdle will be, our entire deck needs to be rebuilt. And that includes the decking platform upon which this new shed stands.)

(Chad and TG are going to redesign and rebuild the deck after Chad finishes with his and Erica's room addition.)

Front room with back wall repainted

Then, once all of the bins were out of the front room, TG painted that far wall the same color as the rest of the room, and we moved my mother's leather recliner into that space, along with an extra side table that had been in the sun room.

I say my mother's leather recliner because it was her special chair and she left it to me when she died in 2020.

It had been in the sun room where I normally sit when I am relaxing or working on my computer, only I did not sit in it because I have another chair out there that works better for me and my pets.

It's a chair-and-a-half, so it's large enough for all of us in that I can sit there with them and still have room to put my hands on this keyboard. If Sweetness the tuxedo cat is not sitting on it, that is.

Speaking of Sweetness, I had to swathe my mother's leather recliner in a quilt because she (Sweetness; not my mother) would not keep her claws off it and was threatening to ruin it.

It looks like a larger room now

Yes she has a TALL scratching post a few feet away from the chair and she knows better but, in the absence of supervision and being yelled at to get off, she would scratch the leather. 

As they say in one of the pirate movies, If we was any kind of decent, we would remove temptation from their path. And so that's what I did.

Funny story about the paint color in that front room, though, which color it has been since 2016 when we did a phase-one remodel.

Phases two (kitchen and powder room ceiling smoothing, repaint, and board-and-batten added), three (upstairs bathroom remodel), and four (master bed and bath complete remodel) took place in 2020, 2021, and 2023, respectively.

Phase five was just a few weeks ago when we removed the carpet from our TV room and added LVP flooring. I showed you pictures of that.

Sweetness threatened to destroy my mother's leather recliner

Phase six will be soon, when we replace the tile in our kitchen with the same LVP that's in the TV room.

Knowing me, there will additional phases until the cows come home or I am called home to heaven, whichever occurs first, and I will faithfully report on every aspect of same.

Anyway, back to the funny paint-color story. TG tutors a young lady whose parents sit in our front room together while the tutoring hour takes place in the kitchen, at our dining table.

I stay out of the way for the most part, but there have been times I have sat and chatted with the parents.

Several months ago, I am almost certain that TG told me that his student's parents wanted to know the name of the paint color in our front room.

Another comfortable place for you to sit

I remember searching and searching until I found it (what I don't remember is where I searched or where I found it), writing the information on an index card, and giving the card to TG to give to the couple when he saw them next.

Just after Christmas this year, when I wanted TG to paint the wall at the far end of our front room to match the rest of the room, I had to supply him with the name of the paint.

So I began searching (again, I thought), for that information. However. Not only could I not find it, but as I looked, I became certain that I had never found it in the first place, for the couple who I believed had asked for it.

In fact, I became convinced that I had dreamt the whole thing.

I even asked TG to ask them if they still had the index card I made for them, with the paint name on it.

For context, you can see this new seating area from my coffee cart

No, they said. They did not have that card.

They were here in my front room last night but i was tired and did not have any makeup on my face and I didn't feel like telling them that I may have dreamed that they wanted to know the name of the paint color on the walls of the room they were sitting in.

Yes I know that there are other ways to match paint colors; in fact, TG found the used can of paint and finished the room, so it appears that I flapped around about it for literally nothing, but still.

It worries me that I may have dreamed finding the name of that paint color and writing it on a card for TG's student's parents, and that it never happened at all except in my mind.

Maybe next time they're due to come over, I'll look presentable and we'll have that conversation.

My new robot vacuum leaves lovely lines on the carpet

I'll let you know. In the meantime, the name of the paint is Misty. By Sherwin Williams. Just in case you were wondering, and even if you weren't.

When we left Henry's house a week ago Saturday in Greenville, after visiting first with my sister and then with him, we headed down the road to Travelers Rest, where lies the cemetery in which my mother is buried.

After paying our respects at her grave, we hurried (because it was cold and windy) across the street to Northwest Grill, a Travelers Rest institution. 

The Northwest Grill is a hole-in-the-wall hamburger-and-fries and meat-and-three place where we almost always stop for a meal after visiting Mom's grave.

I wrote about it at least once, here.

I put her to work the first night I had her

From there we went to a nearby Starbucks for coffee, and then home. It was a most pleasant day and now Mike has met almost everyone except for several of my children's cousins who do not live in South Carolina.

Speaking of living in South Carolina and of cousins, one of my children's cousins -- my sister's daughter, Rebecca -- and her husband are soon to be moving to our state from South Bend, Indiana, where they have lived for many years.

Rebecca's husband is a doctor, and he has accepted an offer to serve as Director of this facility in Lexington, eight miles from my house.

We are thrilled and can't wait to be able to hang out more with Rebecca and her brood.

They will be moving to the area in June, but she will come to Greenville next week to see her family, and from there to Columbia where she will spend one night with us, and I will show her around.

We remodeled our bedroom last spring

Speaking of round, I made a purchase that I'm pretty excited about.

They say that nature abhors a vacuum, but I would change that to, Jenny the Pirate abhors vacuuming.

I told you recently that Audrey has cleaned my house every two weeks for the last ten years, since she has had her own house cleaning business.

But she is so busy now that she barely has time for me, and Dagny has been helping me.

I was already keeping up with things between Audrey's cleanings, but the big problem was always the floors.

You need some cork lights

There are so many of them.

And when you begin the task of sweeping and mopping a twenty-three-hundred-square-foot house, it instantly seems to grow to a five-thousand-square-foot house.

That's before it shrinks to a fifteen-hundred-square-foot house when they all come over at the same time.

In the past, more than once, I had been struck by, but always resisted, the urge to buy a robot vacuum.

But a few weeks ago, once again faced with a real deal on a super-fantastic robot vacuum, I succumbed.

The shed holds my decor bins, my wreaths, and lots of other things

It was this one. Except, when I bought it, it was one hundred twenty-nine dollars. I told you it was a real deal.

And although I don't think I would have wanted to pay any more than that amount for this nifty gadget, now I am wondering what I ever did without it.

I pick up drapery ends and so forth off the floor and put her on the wall-to-wall carpet in our room, and close the door.

When I come back twenty minutes later, the whole room is vacuumed -- even under the bed, where there is nothing but dust.

All those lovely vacuum lines are there.

The platform needs rebuilding, but that will have to wait a few weeks

I pick up everything off the tiled kitchen floor and put her down. Twenty minutes later, I come back with a Swiffer Wet mop, work for ten minutes more and, Bob's your uncle, the kitchen floor is squeaky.

She does the TV room and the sun room and carpeted bedrooms upstairs. I make her work every day except for Sunday.

When she's done and I empty the receptacle and see all the dust and dog hair she collected, I marvel and rejoice.

It's amazing. I'll never again be without a robot vacuum.

Tell me in the comments if you have any experience with one of these.

Cherica had perfect weather for their recent trip to Beaufort

Also tell me if you've ever heard of cork lights.

The plastic "cork" holds three tiny button batteries -- included when you buy these -- and then you stuff the fairy lights down into a bottle, and they twinkle beguilingly inside the bottle.

I was influenced to buy these by an account on Instagram that is devoted to upcycling tips.

They're positively charming and BTW they don't have to be shoved down into a bottle -- they can be put anywhere you need a string of fairy lights with an unobtrusive battery pack.

Speaking of positively charming, Cherica took a trip last week to beautiful Beaufort, South Carolina.

Rhett saw a marsh for the first time

It is situated in what's known as the South Carolina Lowcountry. And it's pronounced BYOU-fort, not BO-fort.

Chad had work responsibilities there but Erica had two days free to roam the area with the boys.

They have taken this trip before and Erica loves Beaufort. They had rented a cute Airbnb. The weather was ideal for being outside with littles.

Rhett wore his neon-green-and-navy-blue Spyder puffer vest -- a gift from Andrew and Brittany for Christmas -- and saw his first marsh.

Baby Elliot clung to his mother and enjoyed the fresh air.

The Lowcountry is Trump Country

Speaking of fresh air, Mike and Audrey -- Maudrey -- posed outside in front of Cherica's house, where Dagny would spend the evening, last Saturday night before they went out on a date.

They were going for a lovely dinner at Saluda's and then to a performance of American Rhapsody by the South Carolina Philharmonic.

And they had a truly wonderful time. Don't they make a handsome couple?

Mike is currently in China for two weeks, on business. All day yesterday I used FlightAware to track his travel path from Dallas-Fort Worth International Airport to Pudong International Airport in Shanghai -- a flight that took nearly sixteen hours.

He landed in Shanghai at about three o'clock this morning our time and is now thirteen hours ahead of us in time.

Maudrey on their way to the SC Philharmonic

I'm not an international traveler but it's interesting to know someone who is.

Have you ever been to China? Tell me in the comments, right after you tell me if you have, or have ever had, a robot vacuum, or any cork lights.

Or you can tell me anything you like.

Meanwhile we have been to yet another party but I'll tell you all about that, next time.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Tuesday

Monday Mirth :: two steps back

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Happy Monday