Goodbye to July

Rhett Gregory spent the night with us last Friday

Life of late has been a blur of witheringly hot days.

Columbia, South Carolina, long ago adopted a tagline: Famously Hot.

Our city has lived up to its name recently as though that were its only job.

It's not a birthday without balloons

The family birthday that we celebrate in July, amidst the scorching heat and soul-crushing humidity and the primal shrieks of a trillion cicadas, is our grandson Rhett's.

He turned four last week.

Rhett is deeply into the states. As in, the United States. The genesis of that interest may or may not have been a large wooden puzzle that I keep in our TV room for the kids to play with.

Someone at church contributed CFA chicken nuggets

I think the puzzle was acquired several years ago for Dagny's enjoyment, but I can't be sure.

It features all fifty states in sturdy wood, brightly colored and removable so that the child can dump them out and then replace them all, learning some geography as he goes.

Rhett has been fascinated with the puzzle for as long as I can remember. And that fascination has expanded to a general and overall love of the states, so much so that his mother used it as the theme for his birthday party.

There's nothing quite like a soft slider roll

Also, nearly all of his gifts were state-themed. 

For my money, the slam-dunk was the gift that Rhett's Aunt Stephanie gave.

Have you heard of Stuffed States? It's just about the cutest thing you've ever seen related to love of our beautiful country.

Lit'l Smokies in the crock pot are a must

Naturally, since Rhett was born and is being reared in South Carolina, our Stephanie bought him the South Carolina stuffed state.

Just seriously adorable.

He also got a variety of state puzzle edutainment type toys, all so clever. I also gave him the book Jack the Cat, about a cat who lived on Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor.

I bought it for him at the Fort Sumter gift shop when we visited there for my birthday last March.

Fritos are costly but necessary

Since he's into fridge magnets (what kid isn't?), I got him the Classic Magnets for New York, California, and Texas -- three states that, three or so weeks ago, he proclaimed to be his favorites.

I think there are new favorites now -- Vermont, New Hampshire, and Nevada have received honorable mention -- but that's okay. He loved his magnets.

We had two parties for Rhett. The first one was on his actual birthday, which was last Wednesday.

He posed in his special t-shirt

At our church we have a snack table that groans with treats both savory and sweet, before every service.

In keeping with that tradition, I wanted to provide the goodies for Rhett's birthday.

I ordered a cake from Walmart. Then I made Lit'l Smokies with grape jelly and chili sauce, barbecue pork to make slider sandwiches on soft rolls, and freshly homemade potato salad. There were also Fritos, to round out the feast.

The Walmart cake had strawberry filling between the layers

We had balloons and someone else had brought chicken nuggets from Chick-fil-A, so overall it was quite the festive spread.

Dagny hung with me the night before and all through that sweltering day, to bring everything together and get it all in place.

It was a great deal of work but Rhett was properly celebrated and our church family greatly enjoyed it.

Second official party and an elated Rhett-man

His second party was at the Chericas' house, on Saturday. Stephanie, along with Melanie, traveled down from North Carolina to attend, and of course the rest of us were there.

The night before, Rhett stayed with me and TG at our house, freeing up Erica to clean and decorate without the presence of the birthday boy. We wanted Rhett to make an entrance on his party all put together and ready to go.

For our meal we had hot dogs and cole slaw and baked beans and chips with dip.

Erica had found state-centric party supplies

Chad had made his boy's birthday cake -- chocolate with chocolate icing, from the recipe off the Hershey's cocoa can. 

He remembers his mother creating that same cake for him on his boyhood birthdays, and he wanted to make one for his little son.

Erica had stenciled a big number 4 plus several states in blue on the front of a green t-shirt, and the entire United States map on the back. So of course he wore that along with a birthday boy badge.

Chad the Dad made his boy's birthday cake

We had a great time eating and talking and watching Rhett open his gifts.

Aren't birthdays wonderful? And grandchildren -- a whole new level of wonderful.

And now August beckons. A mere four weeks and change, and it will be September! Let that sink in.

We keep the birthday flame alive

The last of the summer birthdays will be our Mike's, in early August, and Baby Guy's, in late August when he turns two. 

TG and I will be traveling to Knoxville to spend a few days with Andrew and Brittany and Ember and Guy on that occasion, to take him his present and see what new things he has learned since we last saw him.

Then as summer is completely on the wane, we will fête our Stephanie in early September.

Rhett, earlier today, with his Stuffed State

Just as we mark Erica's birthday on the Memorial Day holiday, we mark Stephanie's on the Labor Day holiday.

At the end of September, our Elliot (a/k/a Skippy) will turn two. Can you believe? 

As I said at the beginning of this post, it's all been a blur.

What have you been doing during these dog days of summer? Let me know in the comments.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Thursday

Meme and me

Sometimes I wear only the girls' names

First off, please don't read meem above when you see Meme. Say Me Me.

Meme is a young teenager in our church who I've known and loved for many years. Her name is actually Emmalise, but she goes by Meme, pronounced as one would say Mimi.

Why am I telling you all of this?

Because I want you to know about a special project that Meme completed for me.

Us four and no more

An artistic commission, as it were.

The whole thing started as far back as three years ago when my daughter-in-law, Brittany, gave me a stretchy name bracelet spelling out the name of our granddaughter Ember.

It's beautiful and I love it and I often wear it.

But then, back in early May, TG and I traveled up to the Midwest to see our Cubbies play at Wrigley Field, and then worked our way east until we reached the charming home of Mari and Bob, near Grand Rapids, Michigan.

My first name bracelet: A gift from Brittany

The first night we were there, Mari invited her two daughters and their husbands and children over for hamburgers and hot dogs and delicious side dishes.

I had some gifts for the children, and as it turned out, Mari's two eldest granddaughters, Alaina and Ruby, had gifts for me.

Alaina had made me a clever and beautiful pencil and pen holder, which I keep on a table and use often.

Ruby made me a stretchy bracelet. The alphabet beads read: I HEART PIRATES.

Ruby made this for me

Except the heart is an actual heart symbol. So adorable! There is also a little piratey charm hanging from the bracelet.

Nearly every time I have gotten dressed to go out since then, I have worn that bracelet.

One day I also added my Ember name bracelet to my pirate bracelet. And an idea was born.

I should pull over and park here. You may as well know that I'm big on arm candy. As in, I always wear a number of bracelets. All at once. A stack.

She even included a piratey charm

Always and only on my left arm; I don't like anything on my right arm. But I will stack those bracelets like you wouldn't believe. It's sort of my signature.

Having the idea to wear each of my grandchildren's names on my arm (amongst my other bracelets), I wondered who I would ask to make my vision a reality.

And so I consulted Dagny. Who do you know who can make really good name bracelets? I asked her.

Right away, she said that her friend Meme was the one for the job.

That's my boys

I was not aware that Meme had talents in that arena, so I purposed to ask her about her ability and willingness to make a quantity of name bracelets for me.

She readily agreed and was excited about the prospect of making the bracelets.

We agreed on a price per bracelet, and I said that I would gather all of the materials and bring them to her. The only thing Meme would need to supply was the stretchy stuff that the beads are strung onto.

Sometimes I wear the children from one family

So it was that I went to Hobby Lobby and picked out all of the bracelet beads, and spacers, and alphabet beads, that would be needed.

As I did all of that, I added to the order: I wanted Meme to make name bracelets for Erica with the names of Rhett and Elliot. Later I added one for Audrey, with Dagny's name.

Because she saw Erica's bracelets and said, I want one!

A pirate and a Cub fan

There is also an expectant mother in our church and I wanted a bracelet for her to wear with her baby's name, to give to her at her shower which was at that time upcoming.

So there was a lot of work to be done.

I know enough about Hobby Lobby to buy certain things when they are on sale, and lucky for me, when I was ready to purchase the materials for the bracelets, that whole bead section was half off.

Erica's babies

(I know that's a trick played by retailers but I fall for it every time.)

When I brought the components of the bracelets home, I put together a sandwich baggie for each bracelet.

Each baggie contained a card spelling out the name for a single bracelet, plus all of the beads that would be needed for that bracelet.

Audrey's baby

In addition, there were two small containers of spacers: silver and gold. Eventually Meme and I would settle on gold spacers for the girls and silver for the sons.

The alphabet beads would be white with black letters for the girls, and the reverse for the boys.

It was to be ten bracelets at first: Eight for me (one for each grandchild) plus two more (Rhett and Elliot, for Erica's birthday at the end of May). Then shortly after, I added one for an expectant mom in our church, and one for Audrey just because I didn't want her to be the only one without her baby's name on a bracelet.

Only Dagny's included the middle name

So, a total of twelve.

Yes I realize I have not mentioned our Stephanie receiving name bracelets for her three babies. Shhhh! We are working on those. She has a birthday coming up in early September. 

So, make it fifteen bracelets that Meme either has made or will make for me.

Rhett and Skippy adorn their mother's arm

Since then, I located a set of three stretchy Cub-fan bracelets. I throw those on too, some days. They have been especially fun this summer since baseball is a summer game, and the colors are red, white, and blue.

Some days I wear my Cub-fan bracelets and my I Heart Pirates bracelet and leave the grandkids in the jewelry box. It's all good.

As for the expectant mom in our church, I want to tell you about Meme's reaction when I added that baby's name bracelet to the order. The little one's name is Ezra.

Meme refused to allow me to pay for it. I provided the materials but she wanted to donate her time to make the bracelet for the new mom. And she was so happy to do that, because that's the kind of young lady she is.

Stacked with blessings

And that new mom, whose little one is due in the next few weeks, was so thrilled with her bracelet. She wore it throughout her baby shower and I have seen her wearing it since.

I heard another lady in our church telling Meme that she'd seen my bracelets and wanted name bracelets for her own grandchildren. So I'm hopeful that we've started something that may turn out to be a cottage industry for Meme.

And yes I'm aware that I could log on to Etsy or Amazon and find dozens if not hundreds of crafters who make name bracelets to custom order. But I like giving the work and the money to Meme.

Me and Meme

Do you know a young lady who makes name bracelets? I know that Mari does, haha! Know a young lady, that is. Make that two young ladies, both extremely talented.

Would you like a few such bracelets for your own collection? If you get some made, I want to see them.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Monday

Straighten up and fly right

The plane that bore our Allissa from Washington to Williamsport

I would warn you that the following story is one with -- as Dagny would say -- all oopsies and no daisies, but I believe that amongst the oopsies we shall find a few daisies.

Allow me to elaborate. 

On Saturday, our Stephanie shared a special text with us. It involved our granddaughter Allissa's first truly independent adventure. Allissa is seventeen.

You may recall that last January, Allissa's Grampy -- our Joel's dad -- passed away unexpectedly. Since that time, Allissa has texted her Grammy Debbie in Williamsport, Pennsylvania, every morning, to tell her that she loves her and is praying for her.

I know that Debbie has cherished those texts.

At some point in recent weeks, Allissa developed a dream and a desire to travel to Pennsylvania on her own and spend some time with her Grammy. Just the two of them.

Since Joel and Stephanie and their children have for years spent the Fourth of July week in Williamsport (home of the Little League World Series), where Joel was born and raised, it made sense for Allissa to make her journey just ahead of their official family visit.

That way, she can travel back to North Carolina with her family, by car.

So it was that Allissa enlisted the help of her mother. Our Stephanie is one of those people who will hunt relentlessly for the best deals and best prices for just about anything.

And she found a ticket on Allegiant Air that would get our Allissa from Asheville Regional Airport to Dulles International Airport in Washington DC, for a mere fifty-four dollars.

Then -- and this is one of the daisies (or at least had the potential to be) -- she found a small airline that provides a connecting flight from Dulles direct to Williamsport, which is two hundred miles away. The cost was ninety-nine dollars.

(And when I say small airline, you must take me at my word. It's called Southern Airways Express and Stephanie described the aircraft that would take our Allissa from the nation's capital to Williamsport as a puddle jumper.)

(You should know that Allissa was safely in Williamsport before I knew anything about her travel plans, or I would likely have taken to the bed with a case of the fantods knowing that my granddaughter would be flying in such a plane. There were two pilots and all of three passengers!)

(I flew from Columbia to Williamsport in 2002, about eighteen months after Stephanie moved there as a new bride, and I seem to remember that my itinerary took me through Philadelphia.)

(But on that occasion there was some sort of mechanical or weather event and my connecting flight to Williamsport was canceled. The closest I could get by air was State College, Pennsylvania -- home of Penn State -- more than sixty miles from Williamsport.)

(Joel's dad, the late Pastor David Bixler, drove the hour-or-so distance with one of Joel's brothers to pick me up in State College and carry me to Williamsport. He was the consummate cheerful, helpful gentleman.)

Sweet Allissa at Asheville Regional Airport

But in Allilssa's case, the plan looked foolproof. The trip to Asheville by car took about ninety minutes and her flight was on time.

But let's back up so I can give you some information that you're going to need in order to truly appreciate this saga.

A couple of days before Allissa was to leave, Stephanie got a strong gut feeling that she should call someone at Southern Airways Express and make sure that they were okay with a seventeen-year-old flying by herself.

(She'd already confirmed that Allegiant allowed seventeen-year-olds -- still technically minors in some states -- to travel unaccompanied by an adult.)

But when a female Customer Service Representative at Southern Airways Express -- the airline for the second leg of the trip -- learned the reason for Stephanie's call, she issued a warning that was as stern as it was lengthy.

The upshot of that protracted conversation -- which included the CSR slowly reading a wordy passage from a list of regulations -- was that in no way and no wise, under no circumstances, would Allissa Joy Bixler, age seventeen, be allowed to waltz off of the Allegiant plane at Dulles International Airport, find the gate for Southern Airways Express, and board that plane without being accompanied by an adult. 

And not some random adult, but someone who could explain their relationship to the minor passenger.

The CSR lady did not say that someone had to fly with Allissa, but just that an adult had to be with her at the gate both when she boarded in DC and when she deplaned in Williamsport.

(Not the same adult. It could be two different people, haha.)

And there would be forms to fill out and sign, and it was serious business, and don't think we are just saying this to hear ourselves talk. The policy is ironclad. No exceptions will be made or contemplated.

Stephanie thought, Oh NO. Because of course, who did she know in Washington DC who could meet Allissa's plane last Friday and see her onto her connecting flight? 

No one.

BUT providence intervened and Stephanie thought of something that might work.

Stephanie's husband Joel has two brothers. One of them, James, is married to a lovely girl named Heidi. And Heidi has a sister named Holly, who lives in the Washington DC area.

And Stephanie knew that on Friday, James and Heidi would be driving from their home in Williamsport, to attend a graduation party on Saturday for their nephew, Holly's son.

So she called James to see whether he and Heidi could be at Dulles International Airport to meet Allissa's plane and show an ID and sign a form and get her onto the connecting flight.

Allissa thoroughly enjoyed being up in the clouds

But that plan was bust because in fact James and Heidi would not arrive in Northern Virginia in time to be of any help to Allissa.

Heidi, thinking quickly, offered to call her sister and see whether Holly could do them that favor.

Holly was more than glad to help, and so it was established that Holly would show up at Dulles International Airport at the appointed time, obtain a gate pass, and be in the proper spot to meet Allissa's flight from Asheville.

She'd then walk with her to the Southern Airways Express gate, show her ID (the CSR rep had stressed the absolute necessity of this), sign the form, and stay until Allissa had boarded the puddle jumper.

So, relying on her sister-in-law's sister to be her proxy in DC, Stephanie called her mother-in-law.

Grammy Debbie readily agreed to meet Allissa's plane in Williamsport early enough that there would be ample time to show her ID, sign the requisite form, and fetch her granddaughter. 

(She would have been there anyway, to retrieve Allissa, but this was an added layer of responsibility and she needed to be prepared.)

(You should know that the Williamsport Regional Airport -- minus the runway -- would comfortably fit inside your local Walmart, with room left over for a bowling alley.)

There is but one gate. You can see the just-departing or just-arrived plane through an open door over to the left.

At this point Stephanie, having all of her ducks lined up for Allissa's trip, could breathe easily. You'd have to know our Stephanie to appreciate all of this, because she was born worrying. She's a quintessential mother hen.

In a good way. Let's just say, she's going to cover all the bases, and then some. She's diligent and detail-oriented. And, apparently, proficient at networking.

So it was that she and her children took off on Friday morning for Asheville, where Allissa would board an Allegiant Airways plane for the first leg of her journey.

Stephanie obtained a gate pass so that she could go with Allissa all the way to the gate and watch her board.

If I know my Stephanie, she then texted Holly, her brother-in-law's sister-in-law (stay with me) in Northern Virginia, and told her that it was all systems go. Allissa would arrive at the appointed time.

Holly acknowledged all of this and once again agreed, promising Stephanie that she would be on hand to fulfill the strict requirements of Southern Airways Express ahead of Allissa boarding the puddle jumper bound for Williamsport.

It was practically one pilot per passenger

But you won't believe.

When Holly arrived at the Southern Airways Express gate at Dulles International Airport, and told the desk agent the reason she was there, she was laughed to scorn.

The agent, along with another agent, mocked her openly. What on earth did she mean, she had to show an ID and sign a form in order to put her brother-in-law's seventeen-year-old niece onto one of their planes?

Holly stood her ground. I was not there (lucky for them) but Holly told Stephanie that she repeated to the agents her reason for being there, and relayed the fact that the company's CSR had given the child's mother a stern warning concerning the no-exceptions aspect of this rule.

The agents continued to laugh at Holly, look at one another in wonderment as though Holly had suggested that the three of them get on the microphone and belt out Build Me Up Buttercup in three-part harmony, and to tell her that they did not have a clue what she was talking about.

So rude.

Holly demanded -- politely, I am sure -- to speak with an airline manager. One appeared and, within a few minutes, confirmed that what Holly was saying was true. She was indeed required by the airline to produce an ID and sign a form in order to get Allissa installed on the flight to Williamsport.

The agents simply were not aware of this supposedly ironclad policy, and moreover were so unprofessional as to make fun of someone attempting to abide by said policy.

I think someone should lose their job.

I recommended to Stephanie that she should contact the Chairman and CEO of Southern Airways Express and tell him this story. His name is Stan Little and he lives in Palm Beach, Florida.

And I hope that she will do that. Because I think Stan should know how uninformed his gate agents are, and most of all, how they treat the paying customers.

Because wait; there's more.

Joel's mother, Allissa's Grammy Debbie, presented herself at the gate for Southern Airways Express in Williamsport shortly after (but unaware of) all of the drama in DC, as Allissa was en route, prepared to show her ID and sign the form in accordance with the non-negotiable rules set down by Southern Airways Express regarding minors.

And the exact same thing happened.

The agent mocked her. Laughed at her and said that what Debbie was saying was the craziest thing they'd ever heard. Or words to that effect.

But like Holly earlier in the day, Debbie stood her ground, so much so that the agent ultimately located the form that needed signing, and Debbie signed it, and by then Allissa had arrived, and Debbie collected her precious cargo and they went home.

It was fortuitous that such a flight existed

I texted Allissa to tell her how proud I was of her for being brave enough to fly off into the blue without her mother. She responded that it had all been so thrilling. What a precious young lady she is.

Then I remembered that I went off to college hundreds of miles from our home, flying back and forth between Chicago and New Orleans and Chicago and Atlanta, multiple times during those years, all by myself.

This is significant because I was seventeen when I went away to college. Maybe Allissa gets her adventurous streak from me. I choose to believe that. Pirate!

Meanwhile have you been even marginally entertained by this labyrinthine travelogue? I hope so. Have you any such or similar stories of your own? I hope not.

And that is all for now.

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A man walked into a pet store and asked to buy twelve bees. But when his order had been fulfilled, he noticed that he'd been given thirteen bees.

That last one was a free bee 🐝

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Happy Tuesday :: Happy July

Our tune for June

Apple Jam Mont Blanc pastry from Tous les Jours

We have been moderately busy.

There is always a flurry of activity in June ... two birthdays (three if you count my late mother, who would have turned eighty-eight yesterday).

Dagny's is the fourteenth, and our Chad's is the twenty-sixth -- today! Happy Birthday, Chad.

We're not planning a get-together per se but I'm sure he'll be fêted properly by all of us nonetheless.

I have three truly special sons-in-law and a lovely daughter-in-law, and I'm grateful for all of them.

Me playing with Dagny on the way home from the bakery

But before we celebrated Dagny with a party on the very day she turned eleven -- which is also Flag Day and President Trump's birthday -- we girls got up to some shenanigans.

Audrey needed to make a trip to Charlotte for an important errand, so we girls formed a plan.

Erica had at some point become aware of a Charlotte bakery named Tous les Jours. She'd wanted to go there for some time and the rest of us of course shared that desire.

If you love baked bads goods as much as we do, you will understand our yearning. Who does not love a bakery?

Turns out Tous les Jours translates (French to English) every day.

If you're ever in Charlotte and need a snack, try Tous les Jours

Yes I could eat bakery items every day. Make that many times every day. So you can see the appropriateness of this excursion.

It was an ideal time to go. Rhett was in North Carolina for VBS at our Stephanie's church. 

Erica left Elliot in the care of a teenaged girl from our church who adores that kid.

So it was that Audrey (who drove us in her brand-new Honda CR-V EX-L) and Erica and Dagny and I set out for Charlotte, a ninety-minute drive, at about eleven that morning.

Dagny's party was all about strawberries

Audrey's errand involved her visiting an office at Charlotte Douglas International Airport. We dropped her off and, not knowing how long she'd be there, decided to go shopping.

Dagny navigated with my phone while Erica drove us to the nearest TJ Maxx. Turned out there was a Burlington there too. We were happily shopping at Burlington when Audrey texted Erica that she was done.

Oh noes! We did not want to leave; we'd only just got there!

Audrey agreed to Uber over and in fact admitted that she'd already thought of it, when she'd checked and seen where we were and knew what we were doing.

Our Allissa cuddling Skippy at the party

She joined us about fifteen minutes later. We kept shopping at Burlington, made some purchases, and then hit TJ Maxx.

What a great time. Shopping! With a bakery visit on the horizon! Pinch me.

Eventually we got antsy to experience Tous les Jours, so we set out for the five-minute drive.

And oh the wonders we saw upon arrival. You take a lovely large square tray with high sides, put a piece of waxed paper in the bottom, and grab a pair of tongs.

Dagny insisted on displaying her Trump poster

Then you go to the cases and pick out what you want and put it on your tray, then go to the counter to order your coffee or whatever beverage you prefer.

There is a small seating area and we picked our spots and chowed down.

Apparently the pastries are French-Korean inspired. Fine with me. I chose the Apple Jam Mont Blanc pastry, while the girls selected, among other things, the Strawberry Croissant.

There were no complaints as we consumed our treats and coffee drinks. Mercy. I went back to the cases a second time and chose some things to take home.

I told Dagny to get a shot of her presents in the front room

In due time we were sated and decided to head for home. As we neared Columbia, a heavy rain came and we drove the last ten-or-so miles in the deluge.

Approaching our street (the girls had picked me up that morning), I saw on my phone that TG was at home. I said out loud that I just knew my beloved would be waiting in the garage with a big golf umbrella for me, as he too would be watching his phone for where we were.

Haha.

Turns out the garage door was open but TG was not standing in the open door prepared to escort me and my packages into the house without getting drenched.

She truly is berry berry sweet

He'd just got home and was sitting in the driveway in his car, waiting for the rain to abate.

It was coming down like cats, dogs, and ferrets. Maybe an armadillo or two.

Audrey pulled up more or less behind my garaged Cadillac.

I called TG. After he said hello, I wasted no time requesting that he brave the rain to get the umbrella out of my car and rescue me.

Birthday confection created by Erica

He chuckled. Ooookay, he said. You know how that sounded: Yes my love I will (reluctantly) sacrifice myself for you.

Haha.

Which he did, rather gallantly, I thought. Dagny reached over the back seat and got my shopping haul and passed it up to me. TG got those first and took them into the house, then came back and got me.

As he sweetly pointed out, he needed a shower anyway.

The strawberries would not stay on the candles

Wasn't that exciting? Yes it was.

Then we went into full party-planning mode for Dagny's upcoming birthday only two days hence.

Stephanie and her three children arrived on Friday night ahead of the party on Saturday. 

The theme we chose was Strawberries. I know; we realized that generally that is a popular theme for one-year-old girls. We just decided to add the other one. It was easy.

Our Mike took this birthday portrait of Dagny

I had already bought for her a pair of Betsey Johnson flip-flops featuring a large luscious sparkling strawberry on the top of one and a sparkling slice of lemon on the other.

And no I did not pay the Amazon price for those; I got them for significantly less on TJ Maxx's website.

Our meal was chicken drummettes which I got for free (story on that later), pigs in blankets with several dipping sauces, baked macaroni and cheese, and Bird's Eye McKenzie's Creamed Corn which you absolutely must try if you have not already.

Dagny, having first tasted that cream corn at my house, is wild about it. It is excellent. Audrey bought the frozen cream-corn rolls and I heated them up in the crock pot because there was a lot. Everyone loved it.

The cake was lusciously lopsided and so delicious

Erica had been commissioned to create the birthday cake, which she made with homemade angel food cake, real whipped cream that she stabilized with sour cream (you should try that), and of course gobs of fresh strawberries.

Dagny had a blast opening her gifts. There was a special gift at the very end of her present-opening time that I will share with you later.

By about five in the afternoon, everyone was gone. Dagny went home with her Aunt Stephanie and cousins because she would be going with them on the following Monday to church camp.

It was junior camp week at Mount Moriah Christian Camp in Knoxville, and our son-in-law Joel was the preacher for the week.

We took a selfie at the Billy Graham Library

Thus, the whole family went along although Dagny was the only camper. It was her first time to go to camp, so we were glad that her relatives would be on hand in case she got homesick.

But she didn't. She had a ball and can't wait to go back next year. She swam and zip-lined and made new friends and it was all entirely positive.

Meanwhile, TG and I celebrated our forty-sixth wedding anniversary on the same day that camp began: Monday, June sixteenth.

It's almost always my call as to what we do that day, and although I was ambivalent even up to the morning of, we decided to drive to Charlotte and take in the Billy Graham Library.

The lady who took this was a bride in 1979 too

It was exceptional. Everyone should go, no matter your spiritual orientation.

The first thing you do is go through the farm house where Billy Graham was reared. The house has been moved not once but twice, brick-by-brick, to finally rest at this site. It is a truly special house and I enjoyed looking at the pictures on the walls and many family artifacts that are on display there.

As we left, I asked the super-nice lady who was, along with her husband, one of the host that day, if she could remember what she was doing exactly forty-six years ago that day.

I always ask someone that on my anniversary.

She looked confused so I said, I know what I was doing: getting married. To him (I pointed TG-ward).

The lady burst into a happy smile. We just celebrated forty-six! she exclaimed, gesturing towards her husband who was standing in the Billy Graham living room. 

She had an extraordinary life

She told me that they had wed in April of Nineteen Seventy-Nine. So, she said, I was a happy newlywed on this day forty-six years ago.

We enjoyed chatting and then she insisted on taking a picture of us with the BG Library in the background.

After finishing in the library and gift shop, we visited Billy and Ruth Graham's graves, which are on the grounds. I was particularly taken with Ruth's stone.

She'd apparently often been amused by road signs at the conclusion of onerous stretches of construction. The sign would read:

End of Construction. Thank you for your patience.

So she had told Billy and her children that she wanted that phrase on her stone. At the top, above her name and the dates that define her time on this earth, is a Chinese character that translates Righteousness.

Stephanie captured Dagny as she arrived at church camp

Ruth Bell Graham was a missionary child born in China. Visting her and her husband's graves was a moving experience.

To cap off the day, we went to the Cheesecake Factory at SouthPark Mall for a late lunch. I had a cheeseburger and fries and it was excellent in every way. No cheesecake. We dawdled a bit at the mall after that, but were home by six and enjoyed a quiet evening.

One of the things i gave to Dagny for her birthday was a pair of silky summer pajamas in black with white trim. I have these same pajamas in the pant-and-long-sleeve version and I love them.

She had requested the pajamas and is loving them so much along with the transparent socks I got for her, for which she also specifically asked.

It's not what it looks like

So Audrey took a picture of her wearing the pajamas and it turned out so funny. It looks like either the house is miniature or Dagny is a giant, which of course is not the case.

It's interesting how one's point of view can change based on something as innocuous as a camera angle.

Have you ever taken a picture that turned out to look not exactly like what you saw through the lens? I hope you'll tell me about it.

And that is all for now.

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A weekend to remember

We were decorated for the patriotic holidays

I reckon that, before June gets away from me and Fourth of July firecrackers are exploding all around, I should tell you about what we did to celebrate Memorial Day.

It was an extended weekend with lots of activities for everyone.

Everything was kicked off on the Thursday before the holiday, when Audrey met Andrew halfway (more or less; I think Andrew did the heavy lifting driving-wise) between Columbia and Knoxville, to pick up Ember and Guy and take them to her house.

The five cousins hanging out at Erica's house

Andrew had to fly (he pilots a charter jet) on Friday but would arrive in Columbia on Saturday and spend the remainder of the holiday weekend with us.

Brittany was on a trip with her sister and would not be among us, and we would miss her.

That night TG and I went out to supper at Texas Roadhouse and then to Erica's, where Audrey had brought Ember and Guy to hang out with their cousins.

I captured Guy but he wanted to get away

The next day, Friday, I went back to Erica's to spend the day with the girls and the five children. Mostly we watched them play -- first outside in the back yard sprinklers, then inside to work over all of the toys.

I'm pretty sure we all ate together that night at Erica's but I cannot recall what we had.

On Saturday, in anticipation of Andrew's arrival, I planned a spaghetti supper. 

This pot-sized pasta is pirate approved

Since you asked, here's how I make my spaghetti. I use Hunt's Traditional Pasta Sauce, which comes in a can.

It's cheap and delicious. I will say no more.

Except, I'll tell you how I zhuzh it up.

Erica took the children to a local Memorial Day event on Saturday

To the three cans of sauce that I dump into my crock pot, I add three pounds of lean ground beef that has been browned to perfection, meaning it is crumbles. Small crumbles; no big hunks.

Once that merger is accomplished, I add to the sauce/meat mixture a packet of spaghetti sauce seasoning. Trust me; it makes it way more better.

Then I add a jar or can (drained) of mushroom pieces and stems, and a packet of pepperoni slices.

All geared up for the summer months

Before throwing the pepperoni into the sauce, I arrange the slices on a paper towel (on a plate), and give them about one minute in the microwave.

Y'all! That makes the tastiest spaghetti sauce! Everyone loves it. The only thing I serve with it is spicy toast.

No that's not garlic toast; this is different. You want to use a thick bread that lends itself to toasting -- not the kind of bread you'd use for a sandwich, or morning toast.

I can't resist cute salt and pepper shakers

I used a Panera Bread Tomato Basil Loaf because that's what I had in the freezer.

On the thick slices of bread you slather real butter and a sprinkle of creole seasoning like Zatarain's or Tony Chachere's (I use Tony Chachere's). Then pop it under the broiler until it's golden brown.

There won't be any left over. It is a lovely complement to the spaghetti. And I don't make anyone eat salad. They don't want it anyway. They just want their spaghetti.

Deviled eggs are standard at most of our gatherings

BTW I used pot-sized angel hair pasta this time, and I'm sold on that concept too.

When everyone was full we visited for a while longer before the families went home. Andrew and his littles were staying at Audrey's house because when Stephanie's family arrived the next night, they'd stay with me.

On Sunday morning we all met up again at church. After services we went to East Bay Deli for lunch.

The Pretzel Salad that Andrew finds irresistible

That night around eleven, Stephanie and her family arrived. Joel is a pastor and they could not set out on the three-hour trip until after their evening service.

After one sleep it was Memorial Day, and we'd planned a big meal and -- because it's us -- a birthday party.

This would be to honor Erica, whose birthday was several days later. We always have her party on Memorial Day.

We serve it up in style

The weather was not sunny but rather gray and rainy-ish, but the kids still jumped in the pool and spent several hours out there.

For our meal we had barbecue pulled pork sandwiches, hot dogs, macaroni and cheese, deviled eggs, cole slaw, chips, and pretzel salad.

Which is not a salad at all, but a dessert-type side involving strawberries and Jello on top and a mixture of cream cheese and Cool Whip and sugar in the middle, atop pretzels mixed with butter and sugar to form a crust. We eat it alongside our meal.

Guy got so attached to this police car of Rhett's that Erica gave it to him

It's my Andrew's favorite so I almost always make it when he is going to be here. His wife makes it for him too.

But upon arrival for a party, he checks the garage refrigerator to make sure it's in there before he even comes into the house.

We were having a marvelous time but eventually I made my four children come outside (hoping we would not get rained on) so that I could get some pictures of them. 

My babies

Then each of them summoned their children and eventually I had some shots of all four of our kids plus all eight of their kids.

One must do these things or regret that one did not. We've all been there.

I think some more swimming took place at that point, but eventually we assembled again for cake and coffee and Erica's birthday party.

My babies and their babies

Our cakes were store-bought but we had not bought them. They were free. Someday soon I will tell you all about that.

One of the cakes was a cinnamon confection and the other was a bundt-style cake with cream cheese frosting roses on top.

They were both excellent and we reduced them to crumbs. There was ice cream too.

Two cakes and both free

Erica, who would be turning thirty-nine in a few days, got lots of nice gifts and we made over her and did it up right.

At some point our Joel left for home -- they'd come in two cars -- because he had pastoral duties the next morning. Stephanie and the children would stay another night.

On Tuesday everyone came back and we visited for a while before the out-of-towners started heading home.

Our Erica is Thirty Fine

Stephanie and her three would be back in a few weeks for Dagny's birthday, which was June fourteenth.

But a few days before that, she met up with Erica at the halfway point so that Rhett could go to Uncle Joel and Aunt Stephanie's house, and spend time with them and his North Carolina cousins, and attend their church's Vacation Bible School.

The theme was the Wild West, and the sessions met in the evenings rather than the mornings. The kids, workers, and parents all seem to prefer that schedule.

It's not a birthday party without balloons

Rhett had a great time and Stephanie got so many cute pictures of him.

But he was glad to get back home when Stephanie returned here for Dagny's party.

Skippy and Rhett after a swim

So it has been a busy summer so far, and I say summer realizing that it only turned summer three days ago, but it's so hot here that it has been summer for several weeks already.

And in case you're wondering, yes we extend summer into fall too. It gets interesting. 

Our Rhett-man had a great time at Wild West VBS

Next time I'll tell you about Dagny's birthday celebrations, and about her first-ever trip to summer camp, and what all else we have been up to.

Meanwhile, tell me what has been occupying your warm-weather season. I hope it's all good.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Monday :: Happy Summer

Friends, family, festivities, and the Friendly Confines

Me and the girlies of Michigan, on May sixth

It's past but I'm going to show you my Easter table. In fact, two Easter tables: mine at home and Audrey's at hers, where we had Easter dinner.

And then you must see my Month-of-May table, honoring mostly, Mother's Day. Towards the end I do switch some mommy things out for some Memorial Day things.

Decorative but not functional

I don't do a great deal of seasonal decorating aside from my dining table and the ledge that surrounds it. And of course the front door.

Now as for Easter. I know what the holiday is about: the resurrection from the dead of our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ. I know that it's not open for interpretation.

This bottle comes out for the month of May

However. While I have a white cross that of course is part of the display, I do bring out my bunny collection during April. A few egg-type decorations too. Don't judge.

But I'm getting ahead of myself because I wanted to start with my/our most recent adventures, and work backwards.

The roses were from my son Andrew

That way, I have a shot at keeping you on your toes.

We had a pleasant Mother's Day. We waited to celebrate until the Monday after, when a bunch of us went out to a Chinese buffet restaurant and exchanged all of our gifts.

Dagny and family spent the week before Mother's Day in Washington DC

(I buy gifts for my daughters on Mother's Day because they are mothers, and they buy me gifts because I am their mother.)

On that same Monday -- this past -- our Andrew texted me to let me know that he was in Chicago overnight. Since the Cubs were back in town, he wanted to know where the best seats were.

Rhett and Elliot were thrilled with their gifts from Mari

(Andrew is a pilot who flies a charter jet. He had flown clients to Chicago and just had to wait for them to be ready to go back home.)

So I told him, and he got seats near where I said, and he and a buddy co-pilot went to the game. And he had a fantastic time, not having been to Wrigley since he was a child too young to remember, and he sent me some great pictures of the stadium and the sky.

The sunset at Wrigley Field on May 12 when Andrew was there

(Since TG and I had been at Wrigley for a game exactly one week earlier, it made me wonder how many more times in this life that the stars will align in just such a way. I am thinking zero times.)

On Tuesday a box of two dozen roses arrived from Andrew. He told me that when he ordered them, the agreement was that they would be delivered on Sunday. Mother's Day.

I told Andrew that Dansby is my favorite player so he sent me this

I'm sure Andrew wondered why, as we were texting on the day before about the Cubs game, that I never mentioned the flowers. Because I didn't yet know about the flowers. Arrgghh.

But I liked receiving the roses on Tuesday and have enjoyed them a great deal. Such pretty colors! Although Andrew said his instructions were to include a majority of pink and white roses, and he was disappointed, I told him that I love them just the way they are.

Erica says this is Sibi impersonating an otter

Still working backwards, Erica came over last Saturday to bring Rizzo home. The Chericas had kept him for us while we were out of town for the better part of a week.

The purpose of our recent trip was two-fold: to visit Wrigley Field once again and see our Cubbies play a baseball game in the Friendly Confines, and to visit my dear friend Mari and her husband Bob in Allendale, Michigan. Just west of Grand Rapids.

Sibi does have ears ... and side eye ... to spare

The game came first, on Monday, May fifth, and it was as much fun as always, and the home team won, which was a joyful outcome. Yes we sang Go Cubs Go and I waved my large W flag.

It is a mere two-and-a-half-hour drive from Chicago to Mari's house, and we arrived there at about two in the afternoon on Tuesday, having lost an hour in the process (it's one hour earlier in Chicago than at Mari's).

Me in the courtyard of our hotel before leaving for Allendale

But that was fine because if we'd left for home directly from Chicago, we would have misplaced the very same hour.

Mari and Bob were there on the front porch to greet us, and a truly wonderful visit commenced. That evening, Mari's two daughters and their husbands and children came over for grilled hamburgers.

Meet Rose, one of the golden speed bumps

I have followed Mari's blog long enough to have commented on the birth of all of these children, and over the years both Mari and I have lavished one another's kids and grandkids with gifts for visits or special occasions such as weddings and births and so forth.

So, I've seen Alaina and Ruby grow up, and I rejoiced at the births of Cassie and Connor, and it was a special treat to meet each one of them.

Violet, the other golden speed bump at Barefoot Dave's in Grand Haven

Alaina and Ruby both had gifts for me, and I had gifts for all four children, and after supper we enjoyed opening those. Then we all sat outside on the porch on the cool spring evening.

The next day, Mari and Bob had planned a trip for us to Holland, Michigan -- where it was Tulip Time -- and to Grand Haven, and then to the White River Light Station, for sightseeing.

Even in springtime, the cemetery was haunting

But our first stop was at Oak Hill Cemetery in Grand Rapids, where we spent a happy few hours photographing some breathtaking monuments and flowering trees.

The weather was perfect; Not hot and not cold. Balmy, sunny, sublime. To wander a historic cemetery with no time constraints, with friends who understand how much I love this and who share my enthusiasm, was so great and I am so grateful.

There was a glut of beauty both natural and man-made

Then we headed for Holland, where it was so crowded that we couldn't even find a parking spot. I did get a glimpse from afar of the original old-country windmill that stands in a field of tulips. I did not see the tulips but I did see the windmill.

So Bob drove us to Grand Haven, where there's a spectacular red lighthouse. When we got out of the car, I was shocked to learn that the temperature on the lake was twenty degrees colder than in Grand Rapids, and there was a stiff wind.

The redbud trees were showing out

I gamely walked all the way out on the pier to the light, but I was suffering. Still, it was an awesome experience because I've seen Mari's blog photos year after year, during the winter, of this pier when it's clad in ice.

She braves that every year to get the shots, so I tried not to complain too much of the cold on a day in early May. BUT next time I'll get my Pittsburgh Pirates zip-up sweatshirt out of the car and bring it with me any time I'm near Lake Michigan.

It was cold at the White River Light Station too

Thought you were a Cubs fan, you may be thinking. Yes. Yes I am; but we were in Pittsburgh last spring to see them play our Cubs at PNC Park, and the day turned so cold that I had to buy a jacket.

They don't sell Cubs merch in Pittsburgh.

Another view of the tiny lighthouse that has seen 150 winters

(And yes I have Cubs merch -- several t-shirts and a player jersey and even a sweatshirt that's on the thinner side -- but I haven't yet found the right Cubs jacket. I'm still shopping.)

I had also forgot my jacket two days earlier when we were in Chicago for the Cubs game at Wrigley Field. When we set out from our hotel to walk the half-mile to the ballpark, the sun was shining and it was warm.

Propeller on the grounds of the White River Light

But TG and I sit in upper-deck seats because we love the view, and I'd forgotten about the shadows up there, and the fact that night was coming, and then there's the wind whipping off the lake.

And yes I've been there before, and I know all about the fickle Chicago weather, and I still got it wrong.

My friend Marsha gave me a new deviled egg platter

And yes I would wear a Pirates jacket to a Cubs game. Because I'm a pirate.

For a few weeks prior to our trip to Chicago, we hosted Sybil Ann at our house. Who, you may be thinking, is Sybil Ann? 

That's the Chericas' dog, better known as Sibi. She's a tiny hybrid of Chihuahua and something else that I never can remember.

Our Easter table at Audrey's house

Since Erica was going to be keeping my Rizzo while we were gone, I'd been eager to have Sibi stay for a few weeks because I like having her around and Rizzo likes her too.

They play and carry on like siblings, and since Chad's dog Jonah went away over the Rainbow Bridge last fall, Sibi has been lonely.

We had the cross and also bunnies

And before that, it was Easter.

Our church had a sunrise service and breakfast, but it was too early for me so I went at regular church time.

The day before, I'd spent some time at Audrey's preparing for Easter dinner.

And there were cookies and fritters for Easter too

It all came off without a hitch. We had a succulent spiral-cut brown-sugar-glazed ham, funeral potatoes, pineapple casserole, broccoli casserole, deviled eggs, rolls with butter, and I don't know what all else, except I do recall that Erica made her famous fruit trifle.

It was a scrumptious meal and the weather was pretty that day, and now it's a happy memory.

TG and me together in Chicago

That brings me to where I left you a few weeks ago, because it was on Good Friday that we'd gone to Culver's on the North Carolina-South Carolina line, for the party celebrating our Allissa's seventeenth birthday.

I hope you're not confused. Perhaps another read-through? Or leave your questions in the comments.

TG and me on Easter Sunday

Speaking of Allissa and all of the family in North Carolina, they'll be here as usual for Memorial Day a week from Monday. 

Our daughter-in-law Brittany is going on a trip, but Andrew and Ember and Guy will be with us for that holiday. I'll share all about it at the appropriate time. 

It's also the day that we traditionally celebrate our Erica's birthday, although that is not officially until May thirtieth.

Another birthday party. Can you believe?

And that is all for now.

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Happy Thursday

Have it our way

It really is an incredible sandwich. When they do it right.

Since I rhapsodized earlier this week about a certain hamburger -- Joyland's The Original Crustburger, to be specific -- it makes sense to me to tell you about two other recent hamburger/sandwich experiences.

It is a cautionary tale if ever there was one.

A few weeks ago -- it was Good Friday -- we all traipsed up to the line between the states of North and South Carolina, Exit 90 off of I-77, the Fort Mill (or Carowinds) exit, for a birthday party.

The birthday honoree was none other than our beloved granddaughter Allissa, who turned seventeen on Tax Day.

You may recall, if you've been reading I'm Having A Thought Here for any length of time, that we have met our eldest, Stephanie, and her family in that area several times a year, for years, to celebrate birthdays.

At that exit are two restaurants that are ideal for such gatherings: Cracker Barrel and Culver's.

As you no doubt know, Cracker Barrel is a sit-down dining experience, with a proper server for your table, and all that. Most pleasant.

Culver's is fast food but it is GOOD fast food. Good the way that Chick-fil-A is good. This ain't McDonald's. The major draw at Culver's is the ButterBurger. And then there's that frozen custard. Don't get me started.

Be that as it may, for the overwhelming majority of the times we have met at the state line for birthday parties, the family chose Cracker Barrel as our venue.

Until last fall, when as I wrote here, we met there for a small bridal shower for Audrey, and found that some random person in the Cracker Barrel organization who no doubt thinks they are a genius, decided to overhaul the interior of this American institution.

It's not a birthday without balloons

Y'all. Once again: If it ain't broke, don't fix it. And as a side note, the two Cracker Barrels in our neck of the woods remain as they were. May it ever be so.

Anyway after that experience I vowed to never darken the door of that particular Cracker Barrel again, and I meant it, so that meant that what was left for a party venue at that exit which is so convenient for all involved, was Culver's.

The children -- especially our North Carolina grandchildren a/k/a the Tar Heel Tootsies -- were thrilled at that idea. They adore Culver's.

So it was that we all met up at the dinner hour on the appointed day. That's when things began to go downhill. The problem seemed to be that that Culver's location, while extremely popular, is poorly managed.

Although there were scads of employees, the wait times were excessive. Stephanie had submitted her order via the app while on the road between her house and Culver's, and yet she still waited more than an hour after arriving at the restaurant, before they came up with her family's meals.

She had to beg, and plead, and stand in line for at least a half hour, to get their order. It was frustrating.

The ButterBurgers, they claim, are not frozen (the patties, that is) and are cooked to order. Naturally that takes a beat longer but even allowing for this, and for the fact that it was a Friday night, the wait times were too long.

Meanwhile I, who do not as a rule order anything on apps, had studied the Culver's menu on my phone while we were on the road. It takes us ninety minutes to get there, so there was plenty of time.

I knew I wanted the classic ButterBurger with fries. As it turns out though, they have a version called The Works which happens to be just the way I like my burger: with ketchup, yellow mustard, pickles, and diced onion.

Ooooh that's what I'm having, I enthused to TG as he drove.

That was one happy birthday cake

And yet, after we arrived and greeted everyone and arranged our tables to accommodate the large group, and I went to the counter to order, something went wrong.

Of course I was not aware until a good deal of time later (as I said, it was taking them a minute to get the orders out), that something had gone wrong.

So it was that when my hamburger and fries arrived at the table (they bring it out to you), and I took a few bites, I realized that I was eating a double (two patties) and not a single, which is what I had ordered.

Also, the double burger in question was slathered with mayonnaise -- the pirate does NOT do mayonnaise as a sandwich topping -- plus a huge slice of tomato, and lettuce, and giant rings of red onion. The burger was so stuffed with stuff I never order on a burger, that I was immediately grossed out.

I took it back up to the counter and got someone's attention. She turned out to be a polite and professional young lady. I explained that I had not been served the burger that I ordered.

She assessed the situation and concluded -- not in an unkind way -- that I had not ordered correctly. She surmised that I had used the words All The Way instead of The Works when telling the cashier what I wanted.

But, I said (because I did not remember doing that), why then do I have a double instead of a single? Because I know I ordered a single.

She said she did not know but not to worry, she would see that all was put right.

And it took a while, but she did indeed do that, and the resulting ButterBurger The Works was intensely delicious. I followed it up with a small serving of chocolate frozen custard.

So all really is well that ends well.

Stephanie had thought of everything for Lissy's party

I wish I could say the same about the Jersey Mike's Hot Honey Chicken Cheese Steak that TG and I ordered earlier this week.

Wow they eat a lot of fast food, you may be thinking. Or even saying. Really we don't, but on occasion we do. Just go with it.

It's baseball season, and during a recent game which TG and I watch with our MLB subscription so that we never miss a Cubs game, Jersey Mike's advertised this sandwich.

I was immediately intrigued because the words "hot honey" have a particular charm to my ear.

So it was that a few weeks later, on a Sunday afternoon when we had Dagny with us, we decided that lunch would be sandwiches from Jersey Mike's. Because I had to try that hot honey chicken cheese steak sub.

Dagny wanted a chipotle chicken sub, so she ordered the half-sandwich version of that. TG and I got the giant size of the hot honey chicken cheese steak, cut in half. This sandwich costs just under twenty dollars.

The lady behind the counter was slightly off. As in, she refused to look up at anyone, and she mumbled. So that, when you were standing there and she was saying something, you could barely hear her and you weren't sure if it was you she was addressing.

But we got through it, and took our sandwiches home and sat down for lunch.

When I tell you that you must try this sandwich, I am not kidding. The Jersey Mike's Hot Honey Chicken Cheese Steak is money. Scrumptious. Just the right amount of heat. Exceptionally fresh and tasty ingredients. Everything and I mean everything, that a hot sub sandwich should be.

On top of the succulent flaked chicken which is tender and flavorful, they put slicing pepperoni as well as American cheese and onion. Then they drizzle the hot honey and the result is spectacular. 

Our beautiful Allissa is seventeen

I could not forget that sandwich but I let about three weeks elapse before deciding that it was time to have another one. My mouth was watering just thinking about it.

This was last Monday. We'd had a busy day. Some workmen were at the house well into the dinner hour, repairing the through-the-wall unit in our sun room. It was seven o'clock before they left.

And that was the exact time that the Cubs home game was set to start (after a wee rain delay), and so I asked TG, who already had one small errand to run, if he'd go by the Jersey Mike's (it is a scant two miles from our house) and get us a Hot Honey Chicken Cheese Steak.

He said sure, and I settled in to watch the game, dreaming of the scrumptiousness of that sandwich.

TG returned home and we got our plates ready and took them to the TV room to continue watching the game.

After a few bites, I looked at my sandwich. The perfectly cooked, spicy and tasty chicken was there. But the slicing pepperoni, the American cheese, the onions, and the hot honey were missing. Just not there.

I called the Jersey Mike's. I explained the situation to the friendly young lady who answered the phone. She asked if we had our receipt. I said yes.

She said, Would you like your money back? I hadn't really thought that far ahead and I just said words to the effect of, well what I want is to be eating the sandwich that we ordered. And we sort of left it at that.

But after we'd eaten our plain chicken sandwiches with no pepperoni, no cheese, no onion, and no hot honey, TG decided to take his receipt back over there and see if they'd at least comp us a sandwich for a future date.

Dagny and her cousin Rhett are attached to one another

He returned home a bit later and pronounced that attempt as having been a total disaster. Not only would they do nothing to compensate us for being given an incorrect order, but they accused TG of not ordering it correctly.

It was all his fault, the lady (not the nice one who I talked to on the phone aand who offered us our money back, but the one who mumbles and will not look at you) behind the counter said. You ordered the chicken sixteen and that's how it comes.

TG said: But I pointed at the big placard to the left of the display menu behind the counter, and said I want that one, the hot honey one.

(The Hot Honey Chicken Cheese Steak is the only hot sub on the Jersey Mike's menu that features hot honey.)

She ignored him. You already ate it and we're not giving you nothing, is a paraphrase of her reply.

Can you imagine treating a customer like that? They come to you with their receipt and tell you that you got their order wrong, and you argue with them, blame them, and send them away with zero reason to feel like ever visiting Jersey Mike's again.

It sort of reminded me of this odd experience that you may remember that we had, about a year ago. It was at the Runway Cafe at the Greenville Downtown Airport.

You can sit in the windows which double as walls and watch small planes land and take off while enjoying a hamburger and fries.

Elliot a/k/a Skippy was enthusiastic about all that occurred

That was the time that the extremely testy lady at the counter, after I'd told her what I wanted on my burger, told me that I was required to order by telling her what I did NOT want on my burger.

? ? ? ? ?

That one still amazes me. Super strange.

Anyway, we got through that and we'll get through this too, but it makes me wonder why so many angry people work behind counters where food is ordered and served up, dealing constantly with the public, when they in fact seem to vehemently dislike the public, and cannot admit it when they fail in their mission.

By the way, during college I worked as a waitress. That is hard work, and I loved it. It made me so happy to trot around getting folks what they needed. Good times.

But aside from that, whatever happened to rule number one, the customer is always right? And when in doubt, refer back to rule number one?

I don't want to set the world on fire ... I just want to start a flame in your heart

Seems to have gone with the wind. More's the pity.

The takeaway? When you approach a counter (or the window) in a fast food place, say what you mean and mean what you say. As in, tell them EXACTLY what you want and do not want on that order.

At that point? All I can come up with is, may the odds be ever in your favor.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Thursday

If I May

Andrew's floral gift cheered me for many days

The pirate reckons that before April is over, she should tell you about her March.

Because it's almost May.

We had an eventful March. Not only all of the birthdays, although there are plenty of those.

Starting with mine, which falls on the seventh of March every single year.

It is rare that TG and I don't take a wee trip for my birthday, but this year we did not go far. I chose Charleston.

Charleston in March is a great idea because unlike most of the other months of the year, it will not be hot.

And this time it was actually on the chilly side, due to not only the temperature, but the windiness.

Joyland in Charleston is kitty-cornered from the Francis Marion Hotel

This would be a multi-layered trip but the first part was to leave the house after lunchtime on the day before my birthday, and head for Charleston. We arrived in the mid afternoon.

We parked our car (that's expensive, ugh) and walked on King Street for several hours, just being tourists.

I made a few small purchases, but nothing major. One of our other March birthdays is Audrey, and I found something for her at H&M, to go with another thing that I'd already bought for her.

One of my primary goals in visiting Charleston was to eat at Joyland.

I'm not sure how I became aware of this relatively new hamburger chain. (Online, no doubt.) All I knew was that there was a Joyland in Nashville, and for the latter part of 2024, I knew that one was set to open in Charleston.

So I kept a weather eye and sure enough, it was open in time for me to hang out there on my birthday trip.

Happy on the inside and happy for your insides

I'm not sure how this works for pirates on the bounding main but I love a hamburger and fries so much that it may in fact be my favorite meal.

Joyland had caught my eye because of their signature burger, called The Original Crustburger.

The reviews were rave so I was determined to partake. Even so, when TG and I walked in and I approached the counter where you order, I asked the lady: Is this crustburger all it's cracked up to be?

She nodded sagely. We sell a lot of them, she affirmed.

OK let's do it, I said.

The crustburger goes like this: They start cooking the patty and in due time they smash it to within a inch of its life. It gets all flat, with lacy edges. I mean really flat. With really lacy edges.

The sky was glorious in Charleston for my birthday

I am inordinately fond of those lacy, crispy edges.

THEN they take the bun and turn it inside out. Yes! They put the insides of the bun on the grill, then put the flattened patty on the outside, with cheese, and assemble the hamburger.

Then they flatten the whole thing until it stands no more than a half inch high.

I know it sounds crazy, hence my slight hesitation upon entering the establishment and preparing to order.

My ideal hambuger is well done, with ketchup, mustard, diced onion, and extra pickle. And that's all.

I don't always have the onion but as I said, that is my ideal burger setup.

Rhett was just glad to be out of the car

Joyland did itself proud. Alongside a generous serving of just-right crinkle fries, The Original Crustburger was extraordinarily delicious.

I could get in my car and drive the two hours to Charleston and get one of those right now. If only the parking weren't so expensive.

Another interesting thing to observe about Joyland in Charleston is its location.

For our honeymoon nearly 46 years ago, TG and I drove from Atlanta to Charleston. We stayed at the Francis Marion Hotel on Citadel Square.

The Square is like a smallish park. I think that for a long time it was known as Marion Square and that originally it was on the site of The Citadel. TG Class of '74. That's 1974.

The day after our wedding, we walked across the park to Citadel Square Baptist Church and attended the Sunday morning service.

Dagny got in on the flag-lowering action

Later that day we had a nice meal at S&S Cafeteria -- if you know, you know. That S&S location is long gone but there are still S&S Cafeterias in Charleston.

BUT the interesting thing about Joyland is that it is across the street from Citadel Square. And as TG and I approached it, we were walking parallel, about 75 yards away, to the path we walked on that long-ago morning from our hotel to Citadel Square Baptist Church.

(Which is now called Citadel Square Church, so as, I suppose, not to offend anyone with the non-inclusivity of Baptist.)

I glanced to my left and thought I saw that oh-so-green 22-year-old bride and her groom on that sunny June morning -- Father's Day -- but I could not be sure.

It was a different world, The Year of Our Lord Nineteen Seventy-Nine. That IS for sure.

After that remarkable repast at Joyland, of which I thoroughly enjoyed every last crumb, TG walked back to where we'd parked our car and then drove back to retrieve me, and we repaired to our hotel.

And she got in there to help fold

It was the last early-dark weekend of the spring and it was getting colder and windier, and we enjoy those quiet evenings in our hotel, propped up on pillows in the king-sized bed, looking at our respective devices while Forensic Files plays in a never-ending loop on the TV.

It is what it is and don't knock it until you've tried it, and any/all other appropriate cliché material that springs to mind.

The next day -- my actual birthday -- was going to be eventful because Audrey and Dagny and Erica and Rhett and Elliot were joining us for the day and to spend the second night (they had rooms in the hotel beside ours).

While still drinking my coffee on the morning of my birthday, I got a text from a florist. His name was David and he wondered if it was okay to leave some flowers on my front porch near the door.

I responded that no, that wouldn't work and would he mind taking them next door to my neighbor?

He said of course he wouldn't mind, and a little bit later he let me know that my flowers were safe with the folks who live next door.

She is diligently homeschooled and it was a field trip

I knew they were from our Andrew and I knew they were very pretty because the florist sent me a picture of them. I looked forward to seeing my bouquet in person and meanwhile I hoped that our neighbors would enjoy babysitting it.

So it was that, after coffee and other preparations, TG and I set out for Liberty Square, from which you can take the ferry to Fort Sumter. 

Despite having lived in South Carolina for 23 years, I had yet to take a tour of Fort Sumter. I thought it was high time.

We had tickets for the twelve noon ferry. The girls and their children had got up early and were making their way towards us.

Then we hit a snag. As in, Audrey let us know that they had encountered a significant traffic jam and, even though they took the recommended detour, they would not be there in time to take the twelve noon ferry.

I went to the ticket window and prepared to go through something unpleasant in order to get all of that straightened out.

The elusive Elliot a/k/a Skippy would not look at the camera

But to my complete delight and to-this-day awe, the window was being worked by a truly extraordinary young man.

First, he listened patiently while I told him the problem. That we had tickets for the twelve noon ferry to Fort Sumter but that the rest of our party, who also had tickets for the twelve noon ferry, would not be there on time. Due to circumstances beyond their control.

He smiled. He went to work. And within five minutes I was holding new tickets for TG and me, for the two forty-five ferry to Fort Sumter, but also Audrey's and Erica's and the children's tickets for the same time.

I told him he could not have given me a better birthday gift than to have handled that potentially ultra-stressful situation with so much professionalism and courtesy. He seemed pleased.

Then I called Audrey who I knew would be in a tizzy. I told her that we had all new tickets, and they needed to just get there safely and we'd hang out until time to get on the ferry.

Sighs of relief all around. They did arrive, and we all tooled over about a block to the original location of East Bay Deli -- on East Bay Street -- for a snack.

Our table was huge and the light was more than a mere light

It was TG who wondered aloud as we walked towards East Bay Deli on East Bay Street, whether it was indeed the original location of the restaurant.

And he was correct, and as I found out a few minutes ago while researching it, the restaurant opened on September 11, 2001. Can you imagine?

At any rate we love East Bay Deli and we enjoyed some time there while noshing and relaxing before our Fort Sumter tour.

It was another sunny but chilly and windy day, and we shivered while waiting to board the ferry, but once aboard Audrey bought us some coffees and we sipped those while crossing Charleston Harbor to Fort Sumter.

Once at the fort, we could roam at will. I enjoyed looking through the small museum. I came back out into the sunshine to see that Dagny was engaged in helping lower and fold the flag that flies over the fort during daylight hours. 

Then there was a delightful visit to the gift shop. TG and I found t-shirts and I got a fridge magnet and also a gift for Rhett which I'm saving to give him on his fourth birthday in July.

Dagny and me on my sixty-eighth birthday

There was time for a few pictures before boarded the ferry for the trip back to the mainland.

After that, it was time to get the girls checked into their hotel, and to regroup in preparation for my birthday dinner.

There is a restuarant, a well-known tourist gathering place, in Charleston named Poogan's Porch. It's named after a long-dead dog.

We did not have my birthday dinner there. The reason being, it's right downtown, and would have been extra busy on a Friday night, and we'd already paid enough for parking for one day. In our case, two days.

So I chose an offshoot of Poogan's Porch called Poogan's Southern Kitchen, situated a fifteen-minute drive north in Summerville.

It was fabulous. We sat at a huge round table with an art-installation type light hanging above it. I had shrimp and grits and it was so delicious that I have dreamt of it almost every day since. 

My little girl and her little girl

I think I may ask TG to take me there again on our anniversary.

I'm not sure what everyone else ordered except I think that TG had Mee-Maw's Meatloaf and I know that Audrey had the chicken and waffles.

Then I opened my presents, and in due time we headed for our hotels and a nice rest.

The next day was Saturday and technically we were on our way home, but we had a few stops to make. First up was the Charleston Tea Garden or as some call it, the Charleston Tea Plantation.

It's the only place in North America where tea is grown and processed. The kind that ends up in tea bags in boxes labeled Bigelow, and eventually, if you are a tea drinker, in your cup.

Summer is tea-harvesting time so there was not much going on, but we took a short tour and then made our way around the large gift shop, where one is invited to sample all manner of cold and hot teas.

Then we sat on the wide front porch and had a snack before getting back into the cars and making our way to the last destination before home.

And that was to see the Angel Oak, the iconic Southern Live Oak that has stood for nearly four centuries on Johns Island.

Pretty cool if it's your cup of tea

It is the largest Live Oak east of the Mississippi.

We took pictures of one another, as one does at such a place, and marveled at the tree's branches, supported as they are by any number of boards and lifts and cables lest the tree topple from its own weight and age.

What a study in quiet longevity. I haven't been too quiet but I hope to achieve longevity. If I haven't already.

At the very least I hope to live long enough to tell you about another birthday.

When we returned home, TG went next door and retrieved my flowers. They were splendid and I enjoyed them for the next ten days.

Good thing I had them, because the next day I came down with what I first thought was a cold but which turned out to be a most unpleasant flu-like virus.

Dagny beneath the Angel Oak

So my flowers cheered the sickroom for the next several days, and of course I recovered and all is well.

But I had been sick with strep throat only a few weeks earlier, around Valentine's Day, and I was beginning to worry that it was a trend.

I'm no longer worried. I'm feeling great and we're getting ready to set out on another grand excursion.

About which I will tell you in due time.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Monday