I Blame It on The Sunshine

Hello!  Once again, I’ve left you in silence.  Back in the day I would have declared a blog break until I can find some regularity in writing but then when such a thing is stated,  then I restrict my liberty to pop in when I can.  Which makes no sense whatsoever because, hullo, where are the WordPress Police Headquarters?  It’s just that I’m a rule follower and it feels as wrong to write when I’ve said that I wouldn’t as it does to not write when I’ve somehow implied through the existence of this site that I should.  No doubt many lose interest when the author is unreliable, but be assured I don’t hold it against you.  I disappoint myself much more than I could anyone else.

I am drawn out of my seclusion by virtue of being on vacation in St. Simons Island, GA and therefore blessedly finding myself on Island Time.   Island Time is not the same as Slow Time.  This is North Alabama speak for the Central Time Zone as opposed to Fast Time aka Eastern Time which we travel in and out of on a regular basis.  It’s very confusing and when we first moved to Slow Time and I had appointments in Fast Time you could count on it that I would be one hour late. Or an hour and 15.  Because that’s just the reality of it when I have four other people to motivate into the Suburban before we can be on our way.  All that aside, Island Time is another way of saying we don’t have anywhere to be at any certain time unless we are trying to make an Early Bird menu which is pretty much every night because did I mention I do not cook on Island Time save for Grill Night which hubby will do most of the work? 

[Yes, I just told the web that we are away from home but never fear!  Armed and dangerous roofers are at the house all week guarding our broken down abode in which there are no valuables.]

We’ve had such a rest thus far.  Luke and I hit an antique show in which we scored these:

Luke has been obsessed with vintage fans since he saw one on American Restoration.  It weighs approximately 800 lbs. proving that indeed, they do not make things like they used to.   I picked up the Georgia map from a vendor who had dozens more that I adored.  I really wanted a very large one that dated back to the original boundaries but it was several hundred dollars and, well, no.  Just no.  Speaking of Georgia, it really is refreshing to be back in the motherland where all gift and sports shops bleed Red and Black.  I stocked up on Bulldog gear on sale at an athletics store in the mall where, glory, there was not an elephant or eagle in sight.  Yes and amen. *grin to my Alabama sisters*  And the Tums in the photo?  I refer you back to the aforementioned Early Bird Specials and the fact certain things are not made like they used to be. 

As much as I would like to hang around, I need to go nurse my sunburn which consequently matches my new Georgia Bulldog shirt and is equally welcome.  I didn’t get one smidge of sun last summer so I’m grateful for the sting.  Afterwards, Sydney and I are going to the village to get her hair wrapped in one of those seedy little henna tattoo shops that I hope no one sees us patronize.  And yet I’ve just told you we are going proving yet again that the sins?  They find you out.  Especially if you are of the sort that tends to tell on yourself.  

Well, now.  How’s that for a lets-catch-up post? 

Assuredly I remain the more disappointed,

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