I didn’t recognize the sunroom when I woke up. Somehow it looked like shades of yellow instead of stark white. The sunroom’s attached to the master bedroom by a sliding glass door (sometimes I think I live in one of your finer motels) and is the only white room in the house.
The ice has been coming down fast and furious. It looks like real ice as opposed to the ice two weeks ago that masqueraded as inches of snow. The South isn’t supposed to be like this. And if I didn’t have to get to the doctor so badly I would love it.
I have a chest infection. Or something. I’m not one to self-diagnosis. Sure. That’s why last year I had COPD, Emphysema, lung cancer and anything else the Mayo Clinic and the NIH’s websites said were lung diseases. I’m selective in my Dr. Google diagnoses.
After endless testing–and my insurance was so bad–I paid, I found out I have “non-asthma.” That’s an asthma-like condition with a much fancier name that for some reason always escapes my muddled aging brain. I have it written down but looking for it would be a cheat wouldn’t it be? So much more
fun, easier scarier to consult, research,uh look-up Dr. Google.
I can’t help but think that if I were still in New York with its much worse weather I would have a definitive diagnosis from a doctor in a fancy off Fifth office. I know that’s not true having gone through this ten years ago. But Manhattan and Long Island will always be the two places I trust the most. Laugh at Long Island but I grew up in the northeast edge of Queens and northeast Nassau County, and where ever you grew up is home.
In someways I’m turning into a Southerner. I used to wait until dark the night before garbage pickup–and that’s when garbage and recycling were picked up on different days. This week because I knew there was going to be an ice storm I took it out on Monday afternoon when garbage/recycling pickup wasn’t until Wednesday morning.
I can’t believe I made fun of Southerners who live in places like I do. The “courts” that don’t have HOA’s and rules for taking garbage out six days early and leaving it for six days more. OK I still do. This was a health/weather emergency and I hadn’t taken out the garbage in two weeks–ice storm then pouring rain. I didn’t want it to become a hoarders delight.
The wind and ice are picking up. The ice is beginning to stick on roofs, upper decks and the ground. The State of South Carolina declared a state of emergency and Horry County where I live (and sometimes think I moved to as the name is still so funny to my inner fourteen year old boy) declared something more.
It’s rare for snow and ice to stick this side of 17. The road that separates people who pay normal homeowners insurance and less for their houses then fools like me who must be walking distance to the beach.
Hardly anybody walks. I staged a one person successful campaign to make golf carts stay off the sidewalks. We’ll see if it’s still successful this summer. And I’m staging a campaign to get a sidewalk put in on my side of the street. The pinecones get into my sandals and dogs paws (that’s the part that might win it.) The ground is dusty and filled with holes you sort of slink into. Sidewalks are supposed to be a major impetus to get people walking. But do they really want people to walk?
North Myrtle Beach just built an athletic field with walking tracks. But to get to it you have to drive. Does anybody else see the irony in that?
Route 17 in North Myrtle Beach is camouflaged. It’s ugly. Truly ugly. Filled with stores that sell tobacco and fireworks. Endless beach shops that everyone thinks are money laundering places because few people ever shop in them. And pawnshops, lets never forget the pawnshops where people I know spent the recession buying other people’s much loved diamonds, gold and other jewels that don’t shine as brightly as they should or shine so brightly (especially when worn with clothes from Wal Mart) that they look fake.
But once you turn off 17 in either direction there’s beauty. True beauty.I live in a protected oak and pine neighborhood, Ocean Drive, home to shag music. The shag is Southern beach music. An entire culture was built around it and sometimes I feel like an anthropologist studying a strange exotic culture. Other times I just feel lucky for picking a small city that stops for music festivals. I can hear music coming from Main Street in my backyard most of the year.
Music season officially begins on March 17th, St Paddy’s Day. There is winter SOS but Spring Safari is bigger and Fall Migration includes Fun Sunday and Fun Monday. It’s our very own not-guite-Mardi Gras. Yet getting bigger every year. And every week we have music groups on Main Street proper not including music from the clubs. One, Fat Harolds is epic. I never thought I would say put a shag club on your bucket list….Hell seven years ago I had never remembered hearing about the shag.
Personally I most love going to the ocean and sitting near a dance hall while listening to the music.
But now the ice is starting to build up and there are fewer and fewer cars on the street off the court where I live. It would be a gray dismal day but for the ice that’s now everywhere. Yet after the storm two weeks ago where the ice was inches thick and reflected into the sky and back down to the ground I’m not sure anything can be quite so beautiful.
Unfortunately lately I don’t seem able to be able to resize my photos to fit here. Will try later!