Candelabra perfection

So today was a fun day with my good friend Amy! We went antiquing- or at least attempted to in Greensboro, although the one store I really wanted to go to was closed. But that's ok. We still managed to find several other shops that were open and had some very interesting finds in them.

Some of the stores must have really adored their merchandise and didn't want to sell as evidenced by their prices. AT any rate, we both did manage to find something at the last store we went to. This after accidentally touring NC A&T and Bennett College on the quest to find Merritt St near UNC-G.

I found a fabulous candelabra that holds six candles and herein is where the frustration begins. I'm sure this candelabra was made by a master craftsman as I have excellent taste and would accept nothing but the best. However, I had a ton of difficulty finding candles for it. I went to the dollar store- where I forgot everything is micro-sized. They had the perfect colored candles at the perfect price. So I jumped in line...only to have the lady in front of me who started out with 20 items end up taking more merchandise from her husband behind me and end up with at least 150 things. Ugh.THe wait time was unreal and I did find out she has six sick friends (say that 3 times fast) and a mother with a birthday this week. (she bought a million cards) Frankly, I didn't care. I also could see where the check-out girl's red weave was sewn in to her hair- it was mesmerizing and I couldn't quit staring. However as I was feeling a tad puny and really wanted to go home, I tore my attention away and put my items on the counter.

At any rate, I finally checked out and got home only to realize that the candle bases were a tad too small. I tried the melt the candle bottom and stick it trick to no avail. Alas, $3 misspent and I had a naked candle holder that needed desperately to be tricked out with light.

AT this point I had two choices, close up shop for the night, or begin a quest. AS I said earlier, I was feeling a tad ick- whether it was from the Bojangles breakfast or the Mellow Mushroom lunch I do not know. However, the last thing I felt like doing was looking for candles. So of course, being me, I set out. I get very OCD when I want something and cannot find it- being known to search all day in several towns until I find what I need.

FIrst I went to Target. They always have wonderful things. In the candle aisle, I found out they don't have wonderful candles. They had dollar store sized candles. Strike one. On to the Hallmark store. They would be more pricey, but they would fit. CLOSED. strike two. So on to Wal-mart where I HAVE bought candles the size I needed before. I get to the candle aisle and there is a young girl with a cart full of children standing in front of the "Jesus/Mary" in a glass container candle section, right above where I needed to be. Did she move the cart'o'kids out of my way? No. She continued to peruse the lavendar candle section, continuously sniffing the same purple candle over and over. Either she was getting high or couldn't decide on the scent. With all those kids I'm thinking the former. Anyway, I finally got to look for my candles. BINGO! They had the right size. BUt the wrong color unless I wanted turquoise, lavender or pink. Strike three. So I thought- CVS- they have candles. Hoofed it over to the drugstore and there they were! Like waxen perfection. The perfect shade of cream. THe exact size I needed. Yee-ha!
AND THEY WERE ON SALE.

So home I went, put in my candles, and lit up the room like a ball o' fire. Ahhh...perfection. It doesn't take much to make me happy! So now I plan to ring in the new year, enjoying my fabulous antique find with lovely candle light to keep me company. What a day! I had an excellent time with a dear old friend and our daughters, a fabulous new addition to my living room and a quiet evening ahead of me with my dear family. Does it get any better?

Ahhh Christmas

7 1/2 hours and its all done until next year. The hurry and rush of the past few weeks is coming to a close. The end of the holiday is nigh upon us. Darn.

I love Christmas. This year was especially special in that Christmas was on a Sunday and we got to go to a candle lit service this moring at Center Grove. It is a bittersweet holiday during the church service as I miss Dr Mark Corts singing "Oh Holy Night" and for the rest of my life I will miss him. However, Steve made the service special and like Mary, I treasured up and pondered on all these things. The birth of Christ- what a gift God gave us. Imagine giving up your own child. Would you? I think not. And Mary- what must she have felt knowing she was swaddling the Savior of the world. And Joseph with his betrothed- what was going through his mind. What an amazing day that must have been. And I like to think about it- especially this time of year.

But then there is the commercial Christmas. Of course, no matter how important the fact that this is the day we celebrate our SAviors birth, we still do Santa and presents, because it is a season of giving.

My kids are 14 and 17- we are long beyond the Santa stage. In fact, I just took them shopping and let them pick out their own gifts. Much like I did for myself this year. One for them, one for me. Its a great system that works for me. The only problem is I can't wait to get my gifts once I know they are in the house and I insisted last week that we open gifts. Oh yeah--- fully knowing that I would have NOTHING to open on Christms morning. And its a decision I don't regret. Of course I freaked out yesterday that my family had to have something to open on Christmas morning so I hoofed it out to the store and bought them more gifts so they would have Santa.

They all opened their gifts and we went to church. AFter the service, we went to my side of the family to do Christmas. I love watching my sister's boys- they are still young enough to do the Santa thing and get gifts instead of gift cards. They were ecstatic- running around and tearing open packages. It was so fun to know that they got such pure joy out of the gifts.

Then on to the best- and I do mean BEST- part of the day. FOOD. and I don't just mean food. I mean FOOD!!! Mama always puts on such an awesome spread and this year was no exception. My sisters and I fight over the filling (known as stuffing or dressing down here) and ma knows to make a truck load of the stuff. I ate and ate- glad I wore my eatin pants - until I could no longer bend over let alone breathe. I don't think I'm ever going to eat again.

And now I'm tucked under a blanket, watching A Christmas Story yet again- thanks TBS for the all day marathon- with my dog beside me and my daughter nearby. Well, I was until Kate put on the Yule Log. Its the perfect end to the perfect day.

I love Christmas. I love the meaning of Christmas. I love that Jesus came, not as the KING he is but as a humble and poor baby with no riches or power...that he came to be our Savior...that He was willing to be the ultimate sacrifice for us...that He came fully knowing beforehand that He would be crucified in the most excruciating death possible so that we would be able to choose to be with Him and worship Him for eternity. I love that God chose a humble couple to be his parents...and that He set such a beautiful example for us. I wish that I would live this on a daily basis but for me, its difficult. I am glad that I am forgiven and that the little babe wrapped in swaddling clothes lives today...and loves me.

Hallie and the hoover

I miss Hallie. She was a cat. She was a beautiful gray can with huge green eyes and she was one of my first babies. We got her from a lady I worked with to keep another cat company and it was true love from day one. Of course there were times that she made me angry- like when she would claw the furniture or consider the floor an appropriate litter box. BUt all in all, she was a great cat. A real snuggler and purrer.

She started getting frail last year in the fall. Her weight dropped and she was so tiny. But, she was still spry and could jump on the counters and enjoyed going outside so I figured she was feeling ok. I don't speak cat. I couldn't ask.

But then the day came. She just seemed weak I decided it was time to send her off to kitty heaven, vet style. Thats a tough decision to make but when its time, you just know it. And so I called the vet and made the appointment. And I was sad.

My husband went home for lunch and called me immediately. "Hallie is gone". "gone??? what do you mean gone? Did you let her out of the house in the shape she's in??? What were you thinkin???" "no, Kristen, She died. She's lying on the couch". I went straight to my boss and told him I had to leave. One- I was sad and two- I didn't want the kids to come home to a dead cat on the couch. I mean, where would they sit? So I left work.

It was with a heavy heart that I entered my house. Hallie had been part of the family for 18 years after all. I walked into the living room and there she was, lying peacefully on the couch. I walked up to her and she really looked like she was just asleep-just with her eyes open and her lips pulled back in a grimace. Ah, mother nature, rigor mortis had set in and she was stiff as a board. I leaned down and closed her eyes with my hand, amazed at how cold she was. She obviously had been gone for a while. I tried to fashion her mouth into some semblance of kitty smile but that just wasn't happening so I let it go. As I pondered how i was going to fold her up into a curled position so I could bury her- she was legs straight out and absolutely unposable- which would have required a bigger hole than I had bargained for, I noticed something.

Now when a ship sinks, the rats jump ship. Apparently when a cat dies, the fleas do as the rats. With no source of nourishment, they bid the host adieu. (I wasn't aware she even had fleas...she never scratched or had flea dirt on her) AT any rate, my poor Hallie. THis was such an undignified situation. She was such a loving cat, so sweet and affectionate. I couldn't allow these fleas to act in such a disrespectful manner.

My first thought was to bathe her. I mean, people bathe the dead before they clothe and bury them. Its been customary for centuries. But the thought of dunking my dead cat and then having to blow dry her in her stiffened position gave me pause for thought. And then I knew. The bissel. I know I said Hoover- hoover just sounded better- but in truth we have a bissel. So I pulled out the old vaccuum cleaner and went to town. I took the hose and as respectfully as possible, I vaccuumed those fleas off my poor dead cat. Now when she was alive she would never have stood for this- but being that she was no longer walking among the living, she was quite agreeable. I hosed and hosed making sure her fur didn't get mussed, until I got every last flea off of her. And then I stopped and realized just what I was doing. Vaccuuming a dead cat. REally? What had I come to I turned off the bissel and sat there for a second. Then I giggled. I was vaccuuming a dead cat. Who in their right mind does that?

So I gathered my wits and lovingly wrapped her up in an old receiving blanket and put her in a bag and took her to the back yard where she joined the ranks of our other treasured pets who have passed from this world. None of them had been as lovingly prepared for burial as my Hallie cat. They were all wrapped in blankets and bags too, but none had been the recipient of the pre-burial bissel ritual. I still giggle when I think about it. And I consider my behavior when its my husband's time to go- not that he has fleas of course, but it seems like a good custom. (unless I go first). I reckon I'll have to stock up on vaccuum cleaner bags and hoof it down to the funeral home before they get hold of him. Somehow I don't think they'd approve.

bipolarity- its not for sissies!

I have this fabulous condition. It causes me to gain weight, to be up, to be down, to be very ocd over certain things- all of which make life very interesting- except for the weight gain. But thats another story.

I am bi-polar- or as I prefer, manic-depressive. I don't know which term has the worst connotation, but bi-polar doesn't sound nearly as interesting. The manic part reminds me of maniac which makes for an intriguing personality trait.

Being bi-polar has been an issue for me for as long as I can remember, but I wasn't diagnosed until after my second daughter was born. Nor was I medicated until a couple of years after that. Had I known when I was younger, my life choices would have been radically different-for instance my choice of dates in high school, or hairstyles for that matter...but thats neither here nor there.

Lets take a look at a day in the life of the man-dep (not short for man deprived, I am married after all) sufferer.

On a depressed day, I wake up. For me, thats quite a feat. I get up and dread my day. I get ready for work and dread my day. I get in my car to go to work and dread my day. All of this activity thus far has drained me and I could go back to bed and sleep for a month! Of course, if its not a work day, I sit on the couch. and then I sit on the couch. And just in case it didn't take, I sit on the couch. It takes all of my energy to get up and fix up and get dressed. This always makes me feel better, although again, it saps me of all my strength. The rest of the day is like trying to run through quick sand. Its a hard process that is exhausting and gets me nowhere. The thought of fixing a meal, cleaning the house, or even checking the mail is unthinkable. And forget talking to anyone. I will not answer the phone- I will not answer the door. I will not talk to anyone if I can help it. I become a hermit which just makes the depression worse. Its just like the commercials say it is...the lady lying on the couch with activity all around her, or the people who don't even pat the dog- that would me me. Sleep is the salve on this wound. I could sleep for an entire day, wake up, take a sleeping pill and head out to dreamland again for the rest of the night. On a depressed day that is.

Now lets visit a manic day. Ahhhh, my favorite day of all. I have actually asked my doctor not to treat that part of it because I am so productive. On a manic day I am up at 5 on a weekend. I get up and its go go go from there. Most of the time I have a goal in mind that I want to acomplish and I go at it with a zeal that an olympic athlete can only dream of. During one spell I painted several rooms of the house, did laundry, cleaned, cleaned out closets, fixed meals, mowed the lawn and kept going and going until midnight when I was spent. The next day I got up and went at it again. Other times the ocd kicks in and I get fixated on something that I just Have to Have! It usually involves some article of clothing that no store in the free world seems to carry...but I will go from store to store to store from city to city until the retailers are finally closed to find whatever this particular article is. I will run out a tank of gas and not eat the entire day on my quest for the unfindable. My mind also gets obsessive- thoughts keep pounding and pounding away- especailly during stressful times and those thoughts just play out over and over and over. THis cycle will continue for several days until I burn myself out and finally crash. See above paragraph.

Then I was medicated. I love drugs...the legal kind that make things balance for me. The only problem is they can cause weight gain which is next to impossible to lose unless you quit the drugs or exercise like a maniac and barely eat. To find the perfect drug balance is a delicate process and once you find it, you don't want to change it, weight gain or not.

I think the worst part of this disorder has been the toll its taken on my family. Thats the part that makes me sad. My children have wanted to do things like take walks around Salem Lake that I just didn't have the wherewithal to do. There has been a lot of lost time and opportunity. Bipolarity is not all fun and games. On a bad day I contemplate suicide- and the stressful part is figuring out how to do it so my family can still collect insurance money. Usually it involves my car. The drugs stop these thoughts. On a bad day I pick fights with my husband which usually end up with me storming out of the house and peeling a wheel out of the driveway worrying my children that I might just not come home. On a bad day it takes every ounce of willpower to plaster a smile on my face and pretend that all is well. And on a bad day, I just plain don't care about any of the above.

Ergo, the drugs. I don't like being labeled- and mental illness is definately a label with a negative stigma, although it is becoming more accepted, and more people are coming forward. It seems half the population is on drugs for something these days. The scary part is its genetic which means my daughters have the potential to deal with this ogre.

I am fortunate to be married to a man who is easy going and has put up with me for 18 years...although they've not all been great years for him. And God bless my kids for being such wonderful trouble free children.

My husband thinks I share too much sometimes, but this is a very real part of my life which I have to acknowledge every day. Its like a perma-boil on my butt and it won't go away, but it is manageable. I feel for anyone who has had to deal wtih this disorder and pray that they have found the relief I have.

It can be fun to be bipolar sometimes...inhibitions are definately lifted, or as my friend Tracy said, "my filter just ain't workin today"...I do and say things that I wouldn't ordinarily do or say which can make life quite interesting...like the time I flashed a friend at work not realizing the security cameras were on before the store opened, or all the times I've ventured into "no tresspassing" territory for a fabulous photo or find, or the sometimes off color but way funny things thoughts that come into my mind at times....which I will not share here. At any rate, I don't mind all aspects of the situation, but its not a walk in the park to say the least.

Bi-polarity is definately not for sissies...it takes a lot of strength to get help, and to deal with it on a daily basis. My life is good, I am happy and I have wonderful supportive friends and family who make it endurable. I love them all dearly and appreciate their love and understanding. Thats all for now.

verbally meandering

Today has been one of those days...actually, life has been one of those days. Geesh, one step forward two steps back and then you wake up in the morning and it starts all over again.

I hate the mail. there is always something in there that I don't want to get. (plus I hate checking the mail...i feel like the people driving by are looking at me and commenting on my fat). Today it was a Prime Care bill from 2010. This is the first bill I have received for services and it was almost $1000. The occurance was during a time we were without insurance due to job loss. I almost choked to death. (had I, the my estate would have covered the bill. darn!) All I wanted was a nice Christmas card...maybe an ad or two for great christmas deals and perhaps even jury duty notice, but no, it was another bill. I would have rather done my civic duty than have opened that envelope.

All in all life is good. I have a wonderful husband, two great daughters and an amazing extended family. I have a roof over my head and clothes on my back and food in my stomach. (though not in my refrigerator at the moment which brings me to my next ramble)

I am a firm believer in savings. I am not a firm believer in couponing as I don't seem to have the time and frankly it stresses me out. THus, I shop at Wal-mart for groceries. I am continually amazed at how much i save there compared to other grocery stores. Granted, they have the basics and not the wonderous delights of the other stores like whole foods, but we're a basic kind of people and its all good. however, (did you see that however coming???) there are things about Wally World that I don't like. I don't like that people insist on walking three abreast. Seriously, we grew up single file, when did that go out of fashion? I don't like when people park their carts (or buggies as people around here call them) in front of what I need so they can go an aisle over to get what they need. I don't like that the names of their generic foods are so dumb. I mean, Cocoa Puffs are called Cocoa Cool? Really? Whats so cool about off brand Cocoa Puffs except for their price?

And I am saddened by the lack of respect given the cashiers. They are people too. I always smile and engage them in conversation- especially if they seem like they are having a bad day. i've been in retail for 17 years- seventeen looooong years- man I need to get into a new line of work- and I know how hard it is to be pleasant all day, especially when people are rude to you. Especially when people ask you if you're expecting- and all you're expecting is to lose weight so people will quit asking you that question. Maybe its the shirts I wear...surely I haven't gained that much weight. For the record, i am not pregnant...just a little girthy in the middle.

Which leads me to my next ramble. There are certain questions people should never ask. "When are you due" is the first one. Dumb question. Don't do it! If she's not pregnant, then she's not feeling very good about her waist size in the first place. Well meaning maybe, but bad idea. "How old do I look?" Another bad question. If I'm truthful, then you are probably going to get your feelings hurt. "Do you like my new ______?" fill in the blank with haircut, outfit, tattoo etc. Again, white lies are not my forte so don't ask me. Wait for me to tell you. And a comment I've heard several times..."You got your hair cut. It looks so much better. Don't do it the old way again". Well, thank you very much for your opinion. My self esteem just rose exponentially.

I have almost finished my Christmas shopping and thats another bane of my existance. I love giving gifts. I hate the crowds and hassle. And I would never shop black friday. I would rather eat slugs than deal with all those people and the stress of getting the best deal by knocking over some old lady on a walker so I can be the first to get the -you fill in the blank-. I heard of a pregnant lady getting cursed at for "line jumping" when all she did was leave for a second to go to the bathroom. Of course, maybe she was just girthy around the middle and not really pregnant. Wonder if the guy asked. Anyway, I only have one gift left to buy and I better get a move on as Christmas is nigh upon us. I wonder if my father-in-law would like a new nightgown? I have one that hasn't been worn and it would save me a trip to the store...he's a very manly man but I really think he could pull it off.

Well, the husband is home now and dinner is on the table...hahahaha...who am I kidding??? I don't even know what is for dinner...although did you know it is legal to eat road kill in North Carolina? So I reckon' I'd better hoof it down Linville and see exactly what we're having tonight. I think I saw a deer yesterday off the side of the road...wonder if the cold weather has kept it good...no time like the present to find out. That's all for now.

memories of buttercup

We used to have a dog named Buttercup. She was a rescue dog who apparently was not very grateful to us as she eventually ran away...however, I'm sure she is off having wonderful puppy adventures somewhere...I hope. I was thinking about her the other day, maybe even missing her poop eating self a bit. She was a really beautiful dog with a hound head that was too small for her body. She was white with black cow spots- a pretty fabulous dog but a bit of a trouble maker. She killed my guinea pigs, decapitating the baby- I asume she ate the head as it never turned up anywhere...at least not that we've found yet. She snapped at the other dogs if they went near the food. She actually was kind of a grouchy old lady truth be told, but in a Vickie Lawrence as Mama kind of way. Butter had a pretty good life with us. She had her own couch to sleep on, plenty of food, a big yard to romp in and lots of love and kisses. She has mishaps now and again like the time she got her tail caught in the space heater fan. It didn't hurt much from her behavior, but every time she wagged it blood sprayed back and forth, back and forth, back and forth til the room looked like a scene from L&O SUV. Butter was a medium sized dog who was a tad on the heavy side...all muscle. I decided to give her a bath one day and hauled her into the bath tub.She was not happy to say the least, but tolerated it-I made sure the temperature was just right...poured water over her...shampooed her and waited the recommended 5 minutes to rinse as to kill off the fleas she may have accrued. While she was waiting, i was rubbing the shampoo in her belly and felt something. I looked and saw a tick. Now I remember the ticks of my childhood dogs...the ones that had been feeding for quite a while and had bloated to a large green grape looking orb..they were creepy as all get out and daddy would get the alcohol bottle and hold it on them until they fell off the dogs. It was really gross...and I have despised ticks and admired dad ever since. Kerry was at work and I couldn't call him for help so I decided to handle this little black tick myself so as not to have to deal with the bloated nasty bloodsucker it would become. I found some tweezers- no, not my good ones for pulling out those stray chin man hairs...but a pair that were good enough for a tick pulln'. I grabbed on to that sucker and pulled...to no avail. I grabbed it again and pulled. Nothing. There was no way this tick was gonna get the better of me! Oh no. So I tried again and again and again. Finally I spotted some blood and thought "this is it...I've just about got it...its letting go now". So I pulled again and nothing. Now bear in mind I said my dog was black and white, and you should be able to figure out where I"m going with this. I rinsed off her belly and took a closer look. That tick wasn't going anywhere. That tick was a nipple. Yes, a black dog nipple that was now a tad bloody and hangin on for dear life. Poor Butter didn't make a sound that day. She stood patiently while her idiot owner tired to dismember her. She was a great dog for the duration of the great bath debacle and continued to be until the day she decided it was time to move on. Granted she still had her moments...but for the most part it was nothing that a little prozac couldn't handle. Maybe we should have tried that. Guinea pig and poop eatin' aside, Buttercup was pretty much an all around good dog. I really do hope she's found a fabulous new family with a big puppy farm to run on- I miss that ole black nippled dog!!!.

Funeral One Twelve Days of Christmas

Ok...so the ads that pop up on Facebook can be very intersting...for instance the one for "Funeral One - the Twelve Days of Christmas".

Which makes me wonder what exactly those twelve days could be...

On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: a coffin.

Its amazing who will capitalize on any upcoming holiday. Seriously, a funeral service that is selling the twelve days of christmas idea. There was an opportunity for funeral video/streaming but it was sold out. How dissappointing. That was number two on my Santa List.

Now, death is a natural part of life, however, selling it as a christmas "deal" is unnatural. What is day two? Cremation urn? And how about a grave plot for day three. AT a 25% discount this could beat the snot out of the XBox the kids were gonna get. Just sayin'.

And why stop at Christmas. A nice valentine's hearse ride might be just the ticket after a romantic dinner. Why not? Its basically a limo with room to lie down for a nice apres meal nap.

Perhaps for my birthday my husband will surprise me with a beautiful diamond made from the cremains of a loved one. My dad showed me the article in the paper about how people can become a diamond after they die by being cremated and having some process done to the ashes left. He was going to leave each of his daughters a diamond. Now I say daddy is gonna have to gain a lot of weight to give me the rock I would want. Eat, daddy, eat!!!

Which brings me back to my original thought, why 12 days of christmas funeral one? We all would appreciate the discount. Its a nice gesture, but how bout a nice fruitcake instead? I think the one that thought up the idea would fit the bill!

all things old...

I love all things old...I truely think I was born in the wrong era. My friend Randy and I talk about "ago" when ladies wore gloves and nylons, and men wore suits and hats...a time when people knew their neighbors and when going to walmart with the word "juicy" written across the butt of your sweatpants was out of the realm of imagination. Antique shops are the most intriguing places for me. I love to peruse the booths and imagine who wore the gloves, or used the tools, or sat on the furniture...what their lives must have been like...I love to buy old postcards with messages on the back- and wonder who the recipient and sender were and what their connections were . I love old photos - especially the ones where the family is dressed in formal victorian wear and their faces are all long and non smiling. I have quite a collection of pictures which one day when I figure out how, I will post. (help Julie But even better than antique shops is finding old things in places of abandonment. I have found wonderful old bottles, pieces of china, postcards and letters and many other fun things. The most recent find, which is not really a find is a pair of old doors from my husband's grandmother's barn. He gave me permission to take them as they had been sitting in the old barn in the dirt for years and years and didn't think anyone would care. I hope he is right as I have no desire to be "that girl who stole doors from the family"...Today I cleaned up door number two and it is amazing. It has two long panels on the top, a sideways panel, and below that two short vertical panels. Its a reddish hued wood and still has the hinges on it. Years ago I found a door knob fixture at an antique store --- it has white porcelain door knobs and the cool keyhole that you just know some little kid spent some time peeking through---At any rate, I grabbed hold of that old fixture on a whim today and guess what? It fit the door...I screwed it on and it looks so awesome. The other door is equally if not more awesome- it again is reddish hued, has six long narrow window panes on the top half- three up three down. The bottom half of the door has three horizontal panels. It doesn't have a door knob either but now I have a new quest...to find the perfect hardware for this door. Now I have two amazing doors hanging out in my living room and instead of watching tv, I'm watching the doors- not sure what I"m expecting to happen- perhaps a person from ago will step from behind them and befriend me and if I"m lucky, take me back there with them. Of course, the drawback to ago is no hairdryer, no airconditioning, no computer, no cell phone. Did I mention no hairdryer? So maybe I was born when I was meant to be. Regardless, I will continue my love affair with all things old, I will continue to seek out fabulous old houses and photographs, plates and silverware, postcards and keys,and I will continue to dream of the days of ago...

havin fun and lovin it!!

Ok...so it's been a while since I've had the opportunity to go visit places of abandonment and have recently discovered that my sister shares my love of everything old and breaking and entering- two things that are so dear to my heart!
We began our adventure on Friday by visiting a late 1880's house in Clemmons...she knows the history of the house, I just know it was super cool on the inside and I had been dying to see the inside for quite some time. Can you say fabulous?
After we took our "self guided tour" of said house, we continued on to the "green house" that I begged my husband to stop at on Thanksgiving but he said something about family and the importance of visiting them on Thanksgiving...Yeah, whatever...anyway, with nothing but time on our hands my sis and I stopped by with her two very curious little boys who really added to the excitement of the adventure. We parked at the house and explored the outside before nearing the back entrance. Being the cautious type I am I gingerly stepped onto the porch...ok, I just plain planted a heavy foot on the porch and promptly fell through. Not one of my finer moments. Julie was kind enough not to laugh until she knew nothing was broken. thanks for that. We toured that house and found a few interesting things including a Kingston Trio record that Matt had to have. Lol...the boy has taste. -ish.
Next on the the Blair Witch House which was a wonderful two room wood house with no doors or windows and a second floor attic...it was spooky and beautiful in its aged condition and we thoroughly enjoyed it. Fabulous place for pics- but I didn't have my camera for this impromptu trip.

Today Julie and I had an errand to run and of course we were side tracked by other things...we took a little visit to the Lawson gravesite which she had never seen. For those of you not in the know, ole Charlie took it upon himself to off his whole family christmas day 1929...they are all buried in a mass grave off Brook Cove Rd...very cool gravesite and she had never seen it. Next on to the site of what was once the Piedmont Springs Hotel...a hot spot in the late 1800-early 1900 until it burned for the 3rd time and was not rebuilt. It was a beautiful hotel in its prime with guests like the Reynolds family who would take to the mountains in the summer for the cool mountain springs. We tromped about the kudzu covered property and found a few pieces of dishware...it is a place near and dear to my heart...Dirt covered, we stopped at a gas station whereupon J skipped over the edge of the parking lot and got the truck momentarily "stuck" until the  good ole boy told us which way to go to get back on the lot. We went inside to wash up and the deliverance brothers were very very very friendly and curious about where we were from and what we were doing in them parts. and made quite a few comments about J's driving...which I thought was just fine. I found myself saying a lot of things like "that dog won't hunt" and "up the road a piece" which seemed appropriate for the area. Now that I'm back in civilization I cannot believe those words passed from my lips.

We ended our day with a visit to grandma Fulp's barn to get an old door that my husband said I could have and Julie was like an enthusiastic puppy running around exploring the property. It was so fun to watch her excitement...I got my door---I hope its ok---its been in the barn for years and years laying in the dirt...interesting how I have no problem "rescuing" things from people I don't know but I feel a little bad about an amazing old door I wanted from my husband's grandmother's barn. I took it home and washed it and windexed the windows and polished with with furniture polish and am sitting admiring it right now...not sure what I"ll do with it but thats neither here nor there...its the joy of the door that I'm relishing.

And that ends the weekend's adventure...I got to introduce my sis to a couple places she's heard of but never been and I got the pleasure of her  company---which by the way, she is an amazing gal...and as for Thanksgiving and the family, we did make it there and a wonderful time was had. As for my husband, he is a law abiding man who puts up with me but will not be a party to my escapades...which is a good thing as I may one day need him for bail money!