In Search of Lawtons and Basingers

Who can guess where we are?

That’s right!  The Wilson Library at the University of North Carolina – Chapel Hill!

We hope to find out more about Corinne E. Lawton.  We’ll see what we see…

Live Oaks at the Marsh

Monday morning after the Daylight Savings Time Change found me driving along the marsh near the Broad River.  The light seemed perfect for a photo-opportunity.

All these photos were taken from the same spot.  I varied the zoom setting or the direction before snapping the shot.

If you are not taking photos of local color, why not?  You don’t have to be an experienced photographer.  These were taken with a point-and-shoot camera.  I don’t consider myself a photographer, merely a documenter of things that interest me.  And if no one looks at these photos except me, I’m okay with that.  Someday, someone will, and there the photos will be.

The Cat at the Laundromat

Sometimes I go to the laundromat.  I don’t have a dryer, or more properly, I have a dryer but no electrical connection for it, so, no dryer.

The weather has been incredibly cold here.  The last few days have been very windy, and that wind, coupled with the cold, cuts right through you.

Yesterday I sat inside the laundromat, knitting a bit while the clothes tumbled around, and out of the corner of my eye I saw a cat in the parking lot.  She was out in the middle of the lot where the cars are, like she was looking for something or someone.  She hunched down against the cold, and the wind blew her fur out straight.

I’ve never seen a cat in the laudromat parking lot.  She didn’t seem feral, or she wouldn’t have been out in the open in the daytime with people coming and going.

I walked outside, and she ran up to me like she knew me.  I petted her and went back inside.

“She’s looking for food,” said the nice lady that works at the laundromat with her husband.  “The other man that works here has been feeding her.”

I told her that I was going to go get some food for the cat, but if the other man was coming with food, I wouldn’t go.

The nice lady said that the man wouldn’t be at work for a while, so I left my laundry tumbling, and drove over to Dot’s Red Dot.

She ran over to the car when I was leaving to go to Dot’s to get some food.

Dot owns a Red Dot store, which in this state means she sells liquor, beer, and wine.  If you are traveling in SC, and you see a sign with a big red dot, you know what that means.  You don’t even have to be able to read.  In the rural areas, sometimes you’ll see a sheet of plywood painted white with a big red dot right in the middle.

Dot feeds feral cats, and people drop off cats that they don’t want, sometimes without telling Dot.  Sometimes they drop off the cat, and then want it back after Dot has already had the cat vetted and neutered.  Dot doesn’t play that game.

I knew that Dot always had cat food handy, and her store was just across the highway from the laundromat.  She wasn’t in, but her husband was, and I asked if they were missing a cat.  He laughed and said that he wouldn’t know how to tell because they feed so many.  He offered me a can of Friskies and a solo cup full of dry, and I set off back across the highway to the laundromat.

When I opened the car door, the cat ran up to me and jumped in the car.  She didn’t know that I had food, and when I showed it to her, she grabbed a mouthful of the dry.

We made our way to the back of the laundromat to a protected corner, and I set the open can down for her.

Tail in air means happy cat.

She ate the entire can and part of the dry.

This kit has so much personality! She would take a bite of food, then run back to me to say hello and ask to be petted, then run back to the food.

I asked the couple that worked in the laundromat if it would be okay if I took the cat to the shelter where they could test her, and then get her vetted.  They agreed that she would be better off out of the weather, and the woman said that it would be a blessing.

I called the shelter and asked to borrow a crate or a carrier of some sort, unless the cat cooperated by getting in the car.  Most cats are terrified of the car and will crawl under your feet so that you can’t apply the brake, which is never a good thing.

The cat actually got in the car and didn’t act freaked out.  She explored the car while we drove over to the shelter on the other side of town, and keep in mind that it’s a small town so it was a short distance.  It’s not recommended having a loose cat in the car.  I knew that she could bolt out of the car when I got to the shelter.

She didn’t  bolt, and I went into the shelter for the carrier.  I opened the car door, and scruffed her while she still trusted me to handle her, and popped her into the crate.

The paperwork was signed, and she was the property of the shelter.

She was such a nice young cat, just a little down on her luck when I found her.  She had little lint wads in her fluffy tail, so I’d guess she was sleeping behind the laundromat where the dryers blow out their warm, lint-filled air.

Sugar mildly scolded me for not keeping her.

Today I called the shelter to let them know if she is in danger of being relocated for space, to call me, and I’ll. go. adoptt. her.

One Hundred Years And Counting; Or, Happy Birthday, Mama Florrie!

One Hundred Years!

The social event of the year happened on February 1, 2013, at the Bull Durham Building in Estill.

Friends and family from far and near gathered to celebrate the 100th anniversary of Mama Florrie’s birth.

She makes her way into the building under her own steam with the aid of her walker and her two escorts.

There were possibly one hundred people there, a guest for every year!  I hardly knew anyone there except for Miz Florrie’s immediate children and neighbors.

It was a great evening of celebration!

Happy birthday, Mama Florrie!

 

 

In Which My Pants Are Not On Fire

If my pants were on fire, wouldn’t I know?

As it turns out, said pants are not on fire. 

I have been waiting to hear the results from the State of South Carolina regarding the telephone hearing that took place regarding my application for unemployment benefits.

I had been denied benefits because the employer said that I falsified my application.  That’s right, they said I lied.

But at no time did my pants combust.

Here’s something curious about this whole pants-on-fire situation.  I have known the folks that work at the spay/neuter clinic since it opened several years ago.  I (and Sugar) have taken countless animals there, mostly rescue animals, feral cats, and owned animals that needed to be fixed but the owners couldn’t do it (most probably because of lack of funds and/or transportation).  I referred people there, even when I worked for a veterinarian.  Animals need to be fixed, folks, and I risked being reprimanded at the vet’s office if they had known that I was what they thought sending business away.  I counter if people can’t afford the surgery, you are not really losing their business.  If I can’t afford a Rolls Royce, are those Rolls Royce people going to consider that I am business lost?  (Thinking not, right about here.)

But the biggest potential deal-breaker on my application was one of my personal references.  I listed a veterinarian` who used to work at the spay/neuter clinic who later did substitute veterinary work at the practice that I was working at, and she knew what my skills were.  So why didn’t the Executive Director at the spay/neuter clinic check my references with her?  After all, she is his *SISTER*.

OK, maybe she’s only his half-sister, technically speaking, but they call each other sister and brother, and they grew up together.

And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for…

PANTS.  NOT ON FIRE.

Y’all can do the left-click thingy to enlarge this image.  This is actually page two, which contains the good stuff.

How’s that for a Christmas present?

 

Maybe It’s The Weather

I am happy to report that my most-viewed post for 2012 was called “Ticked Off; Or Not For The Faint Of Heart”.

That’s right.  Ticks.

Perhaps I should start a new Tag and/or Category.

I am also happy to report that yesterday I found a tiny baby tick on my left hand.  Inside the RV.

Which leads me to why there would be a baby tick alive and awake in December, 2012.  Why, indeed?

The winters are fairly mild here along the coast of South Carolina, which is not to say that it doesn’t get down to freezing occasionally here at the Swamped! Plantation and Tick-Conserving Facility.  But I’ve read that for the insect population to be slightly abated, there needs to be 30 consecutive days of freezing weather.

We don’t get that kind of consecutive cold here.  It’s only been in the last week that the temperature actually dipped to right at the freezing mark.  The low point tonight is projected to be in the mid-50′s.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for a mild winter because that means a lower electric bill for me.  And since I’m still financially embarrassed, every little bit helps.

I’m just hoping that my top post for 2013 is not about ticks.

Because *you know*, that is SOOO last year.

2012 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

600 people reached the top of Mt. Everest in 2012. This blog got about 12,000 views in 2012. If every person who reached the top of Mt. Everest viewed this blog, it would have taken 20 years to get that many views.

Click here to see the complete report.

Thank you for reading my blog!

Pinckney Colony

On Sunday, December 16, 2012, Sugar and I, on a whim, drove down Pinckney Colony Road.

I’d never been on that road, even though I’d driven by it hundreds (thousands?) of times.  When Sugar was a boy, he and his brother would ride their bikes out to Pinckney Colony to spend the night with a friend.  He said it must have been ten miles by bike on dirt roads, and they might see three cars.  That same ride today might yield three THOUSAND cars (Maybe.  Really, I don’t know, I haven’t done the research, but it sounds like an entirely good number.).

Sugar still can’t believe the changes that have taken place in his sleepy little village.  Concrete, buildings, and golf courses everywhere.  So for fun we deviated from our regular Sunday shopping to see how Pinckney Colony had changed since Sugar was a boy.

There were things he could identify, like the Monkey Farm, which has since moved, but is still in the general Lowcountry area.  (When he was a boy, some of the monkeys escaped and were living in the wild.  Imagine waking up to monkeys chattering in the trees outside your window.)

Speaking of chattering, he started talking about someone he knew named MaryO, and how she and her husband had a dairy farm, and how she now has an organic garden and sells produce at the farmer’s market, and how she must be, oh, in her eighties.  And how MaryO’s mother Olive played the organ at the Episcopal Church by the river where he was an acolyte, and there might be seven people at the service.

We got to the end of the road, which wasn’t exactly the end of the line, because it ended at a private driveway, guarded by a farm gate, that wandered off and away through the trees.  So clearly, we stopped, because we are good citizens (and, ummm, also we were observing the “no trespassing” sign).  Seemed like a good spot for a photo.

When I got home I did a little internet stalking, in the nicest way possible, on Pinckney Colony.  I found this.

And there’s MaryO with a story about growing up on Pinckney Colony, and photos of her family, and she mentions her mother and her mother’s love for playing the piano.

Then I did what I usually do when I’m researching people and trying to get them placed in their proper spots in my mind.  I made a family tree on http://www.ancestry.com.

Sugar thinks that Miss Olive is related to the Lawtons somehow, but I can’t find that link.  Yet.

I need more time in the day.

It’s All Over But The Shouting

My mother-in-law had a rule for her boys.  Well, actually, they had a lot of rules, but the one that stuck out was this one:  If you tell a lie, you will be strapped.

They actually used that word.  “Strapped”.  I had a few spankings in my childhood, but no one ever used the word “strapped”.  My in-laws, on the other side of the same coin, never used the word “spanking”.  As far as I know, those boys never got strapped, but they certainly told some lies.

The thing about this rule that was most prominent in my mind was this:  You had to have a rule for that?

Everyone knows that lying is wrong.  You had to have a rule with consequences?  I still shake my head in disbelief.

Perhaps it was the difference in the cultures that we were brought up in.  I really don’t know the answer.  Really?  A rule that you will not lie?

The harder part became determining that a lie was told.  In other words, you got caught.  What if you didn’t get caught?  The rule couldn’t apply to you, because in order to be strapped, you had to be caught in the lie.

I told my mother-in-law once, “You had to have a rule for that?”, which was only a rhetorical question.  I’m still shaking my head on the whole matter.

Here’s where I’ll insert my disclaimer:  I’m not a perfect person, and I struggle with my imperfections.

But I grew up with a different set of expectations and rules.  The rules were unspoken.  You just knew what they were, and for little children, the rules were just understood.  Don’t lie.  Don’t steal.  Don’t cheat.  Don’t fight.  Be nice to your little sister.  (That last one was just for me.)

*****

Earlier this year, I had an opportunity to change jobs and work at the spay/neuter clinic.

Do you ever think that you can predict the future?  I mean simple things that are predictable because you have been in similar situations before and know how things play out.  If I drive too fast, and I get caught and get a ,ticket, and I don’t pay the ticket, what will happen?  Frankly, I don’t know what will happen because I would pay the ticket.

That’s just me.  I’m scared of stuff.  I’m afraid of consequences.  I don’t like it when I don’t know the rules.

So I decided to change jobs because I had concerns about the viability of the veterinary practice that I worked for.  I read the future.

*****

I was in for a rude awakening.  I knew the folks at the spay/neuter clinic.  I’ve been using that clinic since they opened about five years ago.  I wanted to make a difference, and I love the concept of spay/neuter.

Jumping forward about 90 days after my hiring, I was released from employment.

I applied for unemployment benefits.

(Insert jumble of paperwork, a hearing, weekly paperwork, phone calls, and the interminable job searches.)

After six weeks I received a notice that I was disqualified for benefits.

Do you  see that part?  Click on the image to enlarge.  THAT part.  The part that says I LIED?

So now the state of South Carolina has it on file that I am a liar.

I went to the unemployment office and filed an appeal.

I went to see an attorney.  He requested the file from the state so that he could determine which part of my application shows where I freakin’ LIED.

I received another notice that there would be a telephone hearing between an officer of the state, my employer, and myself and my attorney.

The employer, during his testimony, stated that I had mispresented myself and that he told me during the interview that I would need to perform two specific procedures, and that my resume and my application both stated that I could perform those procedures.  Yet, strangely, my resume does NOT state this, and my application (of which I do not have a copy, because who does that?  Who keeps a copy of their original application before they turn it over the the potential employer?), had it been produced by the employer, does also NOT state this.

I never even had an interview.  I never had an evaluation or exam.  I never had a  working interview.  I never received a job description.  I was never asked if I could perform specific functions in a factory setting.

Initially I asked if the clinic had any openings, because I was reading the future and decided that I could not stay at my present employer.

I was told that there was an opening, and I asked for consideration for this position.

I was asked when I could start, and when could I take a urine test.

I’d like to insert here that people know me.  They know what kind of person I am.  My reputation precedes myself.

*****

 The hearing is over, and the matter is in the hands of the state.  It seems clear to my attorney that I will win the appeal.

Because really?  I want that “LIAR” part removed.

Widowmaker, Part 2

I wrote about a widowmaker about 3 years ago.  A widowmaker is a branch or some type of debris that is lodged in a tree, and can fall and hit a person, and potentially kill them.

There’s been a lot of storm activity lately.  If you were in the path of the hurricane Sandy, you know what I’m talking about.  And even if you weren’t in her path, there were a lot of high winds and the resulting debris falling out of trees.

The RV is parked in a wooded area.  Some of the trees are nut-bearing, and when those nuts hit the top of the RV, it sounds like a muffled gun shot, right over your head.  I don’t recall hearing these sounds before, so I’m guessing the trees are maturing and giving off substantial-enough nuts to make such a loud sound.  I know for a fact that my hearing is not improving, and both Jackie the One-Eyed Cat and I jump at especially loud thumps.

Yesterday I was out and about the trees, and I saw a widow maker very close by the RV.  Of course, I had to take a photo to demonstate how dangerous this could be.  Suppose you were in the woods taking shelter under a tree, and perhaps had fallen asleep, and this happened…

Ouch.

 

This photo is deceiving.  The tree is quite large, and the widow maker is actually as big around as my forearm.  It (the widow maker, not my forearm) is in the ground so solidly that I could not pull it out.

So if you take shelter under a pine tree, look up first and plan your next move.