Lilly, "It's A Head!"

"Stay."  she decreed it!  Miss Lilly, the only granddaughter, isn't yet 2 years old.  Darling hubby and I had 6 boys, ne'er a girl.  So this little girl is a delight.  She'd been to her maternal grandmothers for the day, her daddy had picked her up, and they had stopped here for a quick visit.  Usually her dad wants a motor or a tractor part from the barn, or he wants advice from darling hubby.  

Miss Lilly was airlifted via daddy's arms from her safely secured car seat to the ground.  No taller than a bean sprout, she toddled to the gate, blonde hair bobbing, came up the steps, put one hand on the left door frame and the other on the right door frame, lifted one little pink jelly sandaled foot to come on in, and very clearly decreed, "Stay."

Ah, my heart got all gooey filled with sweet love.

We had bought Miss Lilly a Little Tykes red and yellow car from the flea market north of us.  You've seen 'em.  They look like a miniature VW bug, supposedly a cross between that and a Flintstones car.  It’s called a Cozy Coupe.  

At this age Miss Lilly mostly says one word, like drink, or bye-bye.  So she said, "car" and off we go.  Spoiling?  Who me?  LOL, YES, ME!

She loves to get in and "shut the door."  Then we go all over the cemented play area, a play area our boys  in their youth labeled The Slab.  She's pushed.  She doesn't yet know how to alternate feet to make it go on her own, so, she's pushed.  At a turn at the corner she heard a bird.  Her eyes opened a bit, she slightly tilted her head, and she said, "Bird".  Then she utters a full sentence, she totally gets out of her car, toddles back to me, looks up into the heavens, and says, "The birds up in the sky."

Aw, my grandbaby can talk!  And see afar!  And make connections!

My mother gave me a small black and white Panda rug when Clint was a baby.  Clint is Miss Lilly's dad.  I had Miss Lilly's dad's picture taken on the Panda rug.  When I got the Panda  down to offer it to them, it had an age spot which I then thoroughly cleaned.  When Miss Lilly came to visit it was draped over the side of the tub drying.  She loves a bathroom because of the tub.  She loves swimming, and rubber tub toys, and washable paints, all things tubby.

I was in the bathroom when the door gently opened.  Miss Lilly came on in.  She looked around.  She went to the tub.  She became excited, "Hi-i-i-i".   I looked back at her, why's she saying "Hi-i-i-i"?  Well, it wasn't to greet me, she was talking to Panda!  Durn.  Then she reached out her arms, towards the Panda, and pled, "I hold him?” “Peez.”

Ahh, shucks, despite her preference for the bear, I still love the girl, she has manners.

Years ago, I got this idea of drawing a ghost without a body, and I put magnets on the back of each part.  The head got a magnet, the two arms and hands each got a magnet, and the wispy tail got a magnet.  That way when I pinned a piece of paper to the fridge with the magnets it would look like it was held there by a ghost.  Those pieces have been tucked to the side of the fridge.  

Well, Miss Lilly loves magnets.  She has her own alphabet set on her mother's fridge.  I began pulling out my magnets, the Ireland cottage, the sunflower, the little frog, and the ghost parts.  She was carefree, and innocently playing with them all, and especially the frog.   Remember, she's not yet 2 y.o., and she hasn't been speaking in full sentences.

Bam!  Her eyes lit upon the ghost.  She snatched the biggest piece, turned quickly to her mother, and exclaimed in her baby high-pitched sing-song voice, "It's a head!"

Can I hold her?  Peez.  I want to hold her!

Speaking Of Sandwiches - PUNCH

SPEAKING OF SANDWICHES 

“Are you all hungry?”  said a dad standing in the middle of the food court at the local county fair.  

“Elephant Ears $3.00” read the sign near him.   There was the Christian Church booth selling sloppy Joes and brewed tea, the New Heights 4-H club selling Walking Tacos, Whiz Kids hawking corn on the cob, and the Baptist Church advertising funnel cakes and deep fried Oreos.  

In this instance, just outside the Producer’s Tent, the dad was asking his wife and four daughters of stair-step ages, “Are you all hungry?”  It was a resounding chorus of unanimous agreement, “Yes!” “Yes!”  “Yes!”

Then the dad, looking at the a-frame menu sign of various meat sandwiches asked, “Do you want lamb burgers?”  And I had to laugh out loud as I heard every single female in his family with the very same tenor of unanimous accord declare, “No!” “No!” “No!”

“How do you make sloppy Joes?”  Spencer asked when I answered the phone.  This single son lives 20 miles away in his own home and enjoys learning to cook for himself.

“Do you have the ground beef?  How much?”  I asked.

“Yes, one pound.”

“Fry it in minced onion with a bit of salt.  Do you have some Worcestershire sauce, around a couple tablespoons?  How about some mustard, a good squirt, and brown sugar, a nice sized sprinkle?”

“Yes.  How much did you say?”

“I’m sorry Spencer, I don’t measure.  You’ll just have to taste it periodically as you’re adding ingredients and spices.  Don’t forget the ketchup.”

Next night, “How were the sloppy Joes, Spencer?” I asked while on the cell phone with him.  

He replied, “It was good.  I tasted it and it tasted just like “mom’s sloppy Joes”. 

“Good, I’m glad it turned out well.”  

Then he revealed the kicker, “Yah, it was really good.  I added some hot Louisiana sauce and it had punch!”

And there ya have it -- the bad, "no, no, no", the good "just like mom's" and the punch --  NOT fruit drink Hawaiian but...Louisiana Hot Sauce!

Escape Tybee, CHOMP! THEnd

"I was constructing a lighthouse while all others were making ships." wrote Charles Simic, famous poet.  The construction of this lighthouse entailed 178 steps to the top!  To the top of Tybee Island's Lighthouse we went.  It was easy, uncomplicated, yet strenuous.  Not a few times did we have to stop to catch our breath, and to look out the metal casement windows like birds perched in a treetop.

On the gallery deck, the walk around the watch room, we could gaze west over the residences.  In other directions, our eyes took in nothing but sandy beaches, azure waters, and dots here and there of red and yellow umbrellas and beach balls.

To be God's angel must be something like this...airborne, unseen, and far-seeing...freedom of spirit.

The Lighthouse was a place that was easy to take steps down, than it was to climb up.

Some places weren't easy to get into, like the North Beach Grill.   Nestled between sand mounds near the black and white Lighthouse, was the North Beach Grill.  It was so popular we never found a parking place.

Some places we didn't want to get into, like the Inferno Hot Sauce Emporium!   Skull and Crossbones five feet tall drawn on the timber wood fenced wall served as a warning along with the colored chalked words Spices, Salts, Wild & Hot Sauces, Salsas.  Words to deter the weak.

One place we couldn't get out!  It was The Peanut Shop where every selection had an open can for us to sample.  We sampled sweet chocolates for half an hour, ha, ha.  Due to sating our appetites, lunch was delayed.  But, oh, the chocolate covered cashews, the barbecue redskins, the peanut brittle, the peanut butter, the Georgia pecans, the bacon cheddar nuts!  Spencer loves bacon, I love chocolate, Mary loves nuts, John loves redskins; we were nuts in love.

One place we didn't want out -- at least not until we knew who murdered Elizabeth.  That was the Savannah Coffee Roasters cafe where we dined and the employees sleuthed.  An aromatic deep roasted coffee smell mixed with caramel and amaretto enveloped us at the door.  The comedic actor group called Odd Lot took scene settings and character trait suggestions from the diners to create an impromptu murder mystery.   It was fun to interact with the investigator and the suspects while cheesecake we ate.  Spencer took big bites.  That's because when Spencer unrolled his napkin and silverware and held it up next to John's he obviously had a meat platter fork!

The one place we wished we could've gotten out was the 80 East Gastropub.  Ghastly for gastro!  It had bad service, weird service, and non-remarkable food.   Instead of coming to our table, the waiter would lean over the pony wall.  Our many tiered hamburgers were skewered with a large butcher knife!

Now as for its sister restaurant, we got in, we wanted to stay.  And we returned.  The Sundae Cafe, a very small restaurant tacked onto the end of an established strip mall, was cozy.  The mirrored wall behind the black bar revealed black tables and curtains with romantic lighting, even at the noon hour!

After the first time eating there, (Spencer loved their grouper) we returned with Sis another day,  "Our usual table, please", laughingly I told the hostess it was the one in the far corner tucked beyond the window.  The final time we went, that request drew a laugh from the waitress, "Our usual table, please", disheartenly it was occupied by jolly, round bellied men.  Durn.

Well, it's time to Escape before turning back home.  And I'm talking about Tybee Island's Escape Room, where participants get locked in a room like prisoners on a pirate ship, who have to examine their surroundings for clues to escape.  The skeleton in the barred prison hold held the first key, shhhhhh.  After finding the final clue, the ship's wheel revealing coordinates, we had to board the dingy before Blackbeard and his motley crew returned to catch us going overboard.  60 minutes was all we had, and though it usually takes 8 people, the 4 of us escaped Blackbeard just in time, "Blow me down! Yo-ho-ho! And off we go!"

Like driftwood escaping the waves, out of Tybee we went.  Homeward bound.  But Tybee, "lights the corners of my mind with misty water-colored memories" and we shall return.
Not wanting to construct lighthouses or make ships, we do want more adventure!  And some of those adventures were left behind -- Skidaway Island, Duck Donuts, Diamond Causeway, and Walking Alligators.

Hummm, walking alligators?  Wonder if alligators tolerate leashes?  Maybe these walk on two feet heeling at your side looking you in the eye thinking you look tasty?
CHOMP!  THEnd.

THE FUN, THE FEEL, THE FUNKY

                       

"Thoughts drifting to a sunny getaway?" YES!  One vacation reviewer says, “Tybee Island has a laid-back atmosphere, small-community feel and funky vibe.” 

                   Ha, ha, funky vibe.

You could say that.  Remember the dinosaur statue with Christmas tinsel hanging from his gaping mouth?  It was July!  

Then there was the cat.  Spencer said it was "the laziest cat I ever saw" living at the Beachview Bed and Breakfast.  We walked up from the breezy beach, took a turn to go between the patron's cars to the outdoor shower, and walked right upon this mature, well-fed, mostly black cat.  It had a white vest chest and was laying in the shade in the same place in the same parking spot under the same car every day.

If ever there was an un-curious cat, this was it!  Never did we see him eating from a dish, chasing a bird, or browsing through the bushes.  All his nine lives were safely in tact.

Sometimes he would rouse himself to raise his head to boringly gaze at us.  Most times he'd just lay there calm and convinced we'd know our place and step around him!

The Royal Palm Motel, too, had an outside shower.  The bed and breakfast had an enclosed one, looked much like an outhouse of the mid-west.  The one at the motel was just a drain in the ground, and a pipe for sending water up to the rain showerhead. 

Homeowners of Tybee didn't want sand in their carpets, or on their hardwood floors, or in the plumbing.  It was a real problem.  

So was the carpet in our Royal Palm Motel room.  I asked the motel owner about it.   I wondered if they'd used some strong chemical to clean it.  He said, "No, it's just all the sand.  In the fall we're going to replace all the rooms' [carpet] with linoleum-like flooring."  

I told him, "Sorry about all the linens."  "We had to wash our feet multiple times and the white washrags and towels are not so white."  One evening Sis laughingly went to each of us as we were relaxing, after a good meal of seafood, and while watching TV, to wash our feet.  It didn't matter.  A walk back and forth through the room on that awful carpet and we again had feet that were black as that lazy cat!

Speaking of feet, we went to the Crab Shack "Where the elite eat with their bare feet."  Too funny.  We didn't eat with bare feet, but there were plenty of other oddities.

The place had outdoor seating, amongst 100 year old live oaks, on a planked deck, right on the bank of Chimney Creek.  The original menu on 4x8 sheet of plywood still hangs nearby. A large upright faux alligator greeted us.  Dotted throughout the tables were water stations -- each with a sink and towels.   

And, oh, the tables, ha, ha, I laugh thinking about them.  They were about the size of a card table, with a raised section in the middle that held condiments and needs like napkins, but mostly the raised section covered a large hole in the middle - easy access to your own personal trashcan!

To add to this quirkiness, after eating crabs, crawdads, shrimp, potatoes, and sausage, you could walk-off your lethargy by touring the live baby gator lagoon!

The gators were inert.   We wanted pictures.  So, I leaned over the railing, let out a holler and clapped my hands.   They reacted.  We got our pictures.  John reacted too, "Don't do that!  They're alligators!"

Well, sheesh, what's to fear?  They were babies, 5 feet beneath us, and caged -- the best kind of alligators.

Oh, and don't forget Crab Shack cats. Though one Crab Shack sign says, "It's illegal to feed the alligators,”  the other sign says "Crab Shack cats are not feral, they are family.  Don't feed the cats."

And this was my kind of getaway:  sunny, funny, and funky.  

Trip To Tybee High Jinks

The trip down.
The trip down to Tybee Island.
The trip down to Tybee Island was...high jinks!

In the background of my mind I hear muddled song lyrics "Do you know the way to Sand Tybee?"  "I'm going to find some peace of mind."  "There's a great big freeway."

Dad, born and raised in Indiana, was in the medevac unit during the tail-end of the Korean War.  There he learned to read a map.  Then he married Mom -- born and raised in Kentucky.  He had to travel between the two states and this BEFORE INTERSTATES!

Along came kids, 6 of us, and as we each reached that age we were put in the front seat and taught to read a map.  When we reached that other certain age, we got to sit up front due to car sickness, unless brother was the sicker, or sister was the sickest yet.  Anyway, back to the subject, I could read a map.

On this trip?  Not necessary.  Spencer commandeered the steering wheel and used his cellphone GPS propped; propped right up there in the gadget dash hiding the speedometer.  What a difference in the times!  From zig-zagging back roads up and down the mountain with a paper map to straight shot interstates with a cellphone!

As I said HE commandeered and we went to Chattanooga before we knew it.  HE said you couldn't go through Chattanooga without checking out the trains.  HE drove us straight there.  So, we took a train ride, on the Tennessee Valley Railroad.

Three things stick out about that train ride.  One, the tracks had to be built up because of a flood that marked the trees higher than three men stacked.  Two, it used to take days to repair a train car, today due to materials and labor it takes a decade.  Three, there's nothing more interesting that watching a steam engine on a turn key making a 360 degree maneuver.  "Stand back the cow catcher might catch a leg!"

A long trip begs entertainment and, of course, we used our cellphones.  Out came one-liners, memes, funny quotes, and laughable photos.  One photo was an island when viewed from a helicopter looked like an elephant on it's side, complete with spine as mountain ridge and extended trunk slurping water.  Spencer quoted the caption, "God has a sense of humor."

John quickly agreed, "Anybody that can make hair come out of my ears has a sense of humor!"  And, it's true.  He has one wild hair that in a good breeze could wave at you!

Driving through Georgia a sign said, "Dublin Exit 1 Mile".  Dublin, reminiscent of my trip in Ireland, made me think of the song "On the Road to Killarney" so I asked Spencer to find it on the internet.  At this point he's NOT driving.  This time I am, and he's in the backseat.

Even though I insisted he find a song version with words, he only found an instrumental version.  After the instrumental version played through, he said he was in the mood for Irish music, so ... what did I hear wafting my way?  CHRISTMAS IN KILLARNEY!

"Christmas in Killarney????"  I squeeked.  "Christmas in JUNE!"
"Christmas in June and on FATHERS DAY????"
How Spencer-typical!

He loves Christmas at all times of the year.  Every family member, every friend every where on Facebook knows this.  The day after December 25 we get a notice, "364 days until Christmas!"

I hear from the backseat a question I know exactly how to answer, "Does that mean you don't want to hear "Bells Over Belfast?"

Now, I know you agree with me.  The trip down to Tybee was a trip...with high jinks.

Spanky's Pirate Mermaid

Well, that title makes the mind whirl, doesn't it? Spanky's Pirate Mermaid?

Don't know if I can connect these three or not but I shall give it the old college try, as the saying goes.

Scene setting -- weather is warm, not hot; sky is mid-blue, calming; passer-bys are happily smiling, dressed in shorts and t-shirts of colors light yellow and whites and greens;  sounds of lapping water and splashes, muffled crunch of sand underfoot.

It's early morning, the stores are just opening.  These are gift shops with beach chairs, sandals of all sizes, sea shell collections and strings, beach umbrellas, and turquoise swimsuits, novelty gifts of rock bands made of rocks, and specialty coffee mugs and miniature tins filled with colored glass chips, and tweezers with pen lights.

Blackbeard!  Blackbeard came out as the shops opened their doors!  He was as black as the day was sunny in his broad-brimmed pirate hat!  And he was big!  Muscular!  Tall!  Imposing!  Had the dour look!  Then we laughed out loud...he was on wheels!

Just walk up, put your head in his arm pit and you have a souvenir photo.  "I was here."  So funny we laughed out loud.

Late that night, we knew the stores were closing, cause ol' Blackbeard was rolling home.   Pushed and pulled by young girls in summer wear,  he was.  Sure he was winking with the knowing look of a plundering black pirate's heart enjoying his spoils.

Wonder if Blackbeard ever saw mermaids?  They were everywhere -- swimming on men's shirts, sported on girls tops, adorning gift items, made into ornaments, even gracing doorways and engraved on signage.

John and Spencer were following me through one place after another at the Tybee Oaks Shops -- Shell Cut Etc, Swizzle And Shake, Latitude 32, and Island Gypseas.  The shops were built up two to four feet (in case of hurricanes) and lined up next to each other in salt washed colors of blues, greens, and soft orange.  I was going along the wooden planked walk looking into each one for ballerina trinkets.  Forget that.  You're better off looking for floatsy mermaid finds.

They went into a girly frilly dainty shop thinking I was in there, but the shopkeeper had a confused look on her face -- two men, no women in a mermaid shop?  "Obviously my wife is not in here!" John clarified.  He also said the place was full of sirens and mermaid figurines and beads and starfish and glitter.  One sign in there read  "Be your own mermaid".  Spencer was intrigued.  He misread it as "build you a mermaid"!

Spanky is a nickname lovingly given Spencer when he was a toddler.  Sometimes your birth name isn't enough, you get tagged with a nickname.  And some names just lend themselves to numerous nicknames, especially if you are of a certain character.   Spencer, in fun tender adoration, has been called Spencil, 'pencil, St'encil, Spen, Spence, and Spanky.

So when we were touring along the River Walk in Savannah, there was no question, we had to eat at Spanky's.  Spanky's River Street that claims "Original Chicken Finger, where the finger lickin' all began."

Spencer just had to wear a paper Spanky's hat sporting a large white chicken.  We insisted.  Photos followed.

Inside left, a red popcorn machine, straight ahead a ship bow shaped bar, to the right all kinds of happy eaters with fingers to lips.  There were cobble stone walls, wood beams, greenery filled hanging baskets and overhead a large elk head!  Why not a chicken?  I don't know, but the food was finger lickin' good.

Thinking of Spanky building himself a mermaid maybe ol' Blackbeard will upturn a cracked smiling lip.

Hunting And Hungry, Next Exit, Smoke!

Smoke!  From a distance we could see the smoke.   It rose like a "here am I" signal from an Indian's teepee village.

At the first, Spencer spied a sign on the interstate that stated the names of eating places coming up at the next exit.  We were hungry.  250 miles south of home and we were hunting.  Hunting and hungry for something to eat.  Turns out it was going to be smoking pigs!  LOL, at least that's what Spencer called Smokey Pig Bar-B-Que.

I took pictures of the wooden shack-like building with it's bar-b-que smoker hidden by the picketty-wooden privacy fence.  Couldn't hide the smoke, tho.

Oh, so good was that taste of sweet sharp sauce on shredded pork with fluffy fresh bun.
The customers were a happy lot, knowing their pleasure was coming.  One gentleman laughed, and sounded like my uncle.  I just had to greet him with a kindred smile.  Customers came and went, a steady stream, never empty-handed.

The hand-written signs kept us entertained while we ate.
"If you don't like it HOT don't get it DIPPED," and
"When you order Pork Chop that means Pork Chop (bone in)
N O T chopped pork!"

We couldn't help but laugh at some of the menu items:  Half Chicken, Large Dog, Small Dog, and Shred Dog!

Next morning we were parked, by Spencer self-designated driver, on a sad dreary vacant street in front of Bluegrass Grille.  He said he googled where to go because he wanted local food, culture of the city.  Grass grew up between the curb and sidewalk, the windows of empty storefronts were dirty, and all was quiet.  This was early morning, the sun just grazing the horizon that was still gray from the night.  No twitters from the birds, no coughs from old men, no car horns, nothing.

Then.  Then we opened the door to the grill.  Hubbub!  What a mix of sounds!  Clanging, high chatter, chair scrapings, ice clanking, laughter, kid trills, and "We'll seat you in just a few minutes."  We were third in line.  The back wall was a green, muted mural of the Appalachian Mountains.  The floors were knotted hardwood, and the side walls were red brick.  What a contrast!

From Louisville, to Chattanooga to Savannah, I can't fail to mention the Espresso Gallery, The Sugar Shack, The Social Club, and Coffee Roasters Cafe. Homeward through South Carolina and Tennessee we stopped at The Diner.

The Diner was retro to the 1950's.  All glistening, reflective silver chrome on the outside and red-checkered and soda fountain-like on the inside serving burgers and fries and berry cobbler and pies.  Yet we were totally taken aback by the wait staff, men and women who looked like they were the teeny-boppers of the 1950's!  Definitely put a smile on your face and made ya wish ya could afford their t-shirts.

Spencer knew I thought his t-shirt was threadbare and not worthy of being seen in public.  At the laundromat in Tybee, we were discussing this when an older couple joined in our conversation.  She was very grandmotherly and she commiserated with him, "He's treating  his shirts like he'll treat his car and his wife, "Keep 'em forever!"  Of course, I got the "See there, Mom" look.

So, one of the last places we went had the best fish, Molly McGuires, but I'll not return.  I got food poisoning from the cole slaw.  The last breakfast place we patronized was Bojangles, southern-inspired fast-food known for Cajun chicken, but we had nuggets, and biscuit sandwiches.  Gotta tell ya though, as we went through the drive-through Spencer was flirty with the girl.  Yep.  They laughed and giggled.  When we got to the window to receive our food, they were still laughing and giggling.

I asked if he wanted to get her phone number.  Guess not.  Maybe like the neighboring Coosaw Indians she should send up a "come hither" smoke signal.

By the way, can Cajun chicken make ya giggle?