It was too late to call anybody so I emailed Bone. At the time I was in denial that it was a spider because yuck. Thought about sending him pictures of the bites but my general sense of decorum won this round. I wanted somebody to know about the bite and the date to be on record. OK bugs make me hysterical. I stayed up as long as possible but knew I would have to face a bed sooner or later. I slept in the guest room.

Obviously I was still alive in the morning but the bites looked worse. I walked into the bedroom and the spider was still on the bed. I felt sick. Not too sick to declare war. Only lady bugs are acceptable. I also have lizards and snakes–hopefully not poisonous ones in my irregular sized plot that used to be gross weeds with some grass trying and failing to grow. Now it’s three levels of wood decks. I accept bugs outside. They’re not allowed inside and should know that.

I didn’t have any bug spray as I have an exterminator and no need for spray usually so I took Lysol Clean Up and sprayed the spider for at least two minutes until it finally died. I didn’t care if I ruined the bedding and mattress. This was war. Did I tell you I love my mattress?

I took the bedding and not just washed it but put it through a bleach and then a sanitary cycle. Apparently in war cleanliness counts more than anything.

Eldon, contractor, handyman and househusband came over. Yes I knew I had three more days before the venom could spread. Or did I know this? I had taken a Benadryl so was kinda out of it. And the rain. After months of no rain it wouldn’t stop and I couldn’t stay awake from general malaise I suffer from in temperatures under 80something with high humidity. I need heat and humidity to feel human.

Eldon made a lot of fun of me. Fortunately I had both neosporin and benadryl Gel and used them both probably canceling out each other’s effectiveness.

It’s been almost a week and you can’t see the bites or the swelling anymore. But each night before I go to bed I check my bed for spiders. A girl can’t be too careful.

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I hope that The Tea Party understands no matter what happens they have lost by holding the country hostage to phony “principles.” Raise the now and worry later.
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I don’t do ads on Courting. I change the password often and need the password every day to enter my blog. Don’t get this. The ads link back to WebMD via smart link. I don’t make a cent and have no idea what to do to stop this. I use the latest versions of Askimet and Bad Behavior. It’s not that I wouldn’t make money from the blog if the right opportunity presented itself; it’s the idea that this can be done. Courting isn’t even popular anymore and hasn’t been for years! I just personally love it
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I’m not a New Yorker anymore!  Not only am I not a New Yorker, I moved to the wrong Carolina*, didn’t move to South Florida, California or any of the four other places Upper West Siders’ move to.  When I’m not freaking about losing my bragging rights to Manhattan I truly love it here.  But the transition’s taking a long time.  Though most of my “problems” are truly stupid.  I’m freezing because I forget that the landlord can turn up the heat!

Will I ever call myself a Southerner?

*Asheville, Chapel Hill and even Charlotte are on cool lists. Oh, I forgot about Wilmington and Wrightsville Beach– a mini Charleston that’s also a TV & film production town and one of the most beautiful beaches anywhere.

First, I’m obsessive and have a tendency to imagine the worst but thought that was in the past; that I worked through the reasons I did that.   I wasn’t crazed about my house on this trip but did call Eldon twice.  As always he was watching the house.  I’ve never called him before from a trip.  I called three times including once from the airport on the way home because I just had a feeling….

When I came home we were driving down my street.  I saw a few blocks blocked off with fire trucks and police cars.   It looked like the house on fire was in my court.  I managed to get to a close street that was blocked off, and a safety agent was directing traffic away to Main Street.

I gave her my address and asked if it were my house.  She said: “I don’t know.  it might be.”

Frigging bitch.  I freaked as we drove down Main Street.  I finally was able to get out and walk to my court–thank god for suitcases with wheels.

The fire was in the court just above mine.  A very nice elderly couple was coming home from the beach to find out that their house was “gone” in the interior.

I’m exhausted,  beyond happy that it wasn’t my house, guilty that I feel that way, and a little angry that the safety officer didn’t call on her cell to find out what house it was.  I spoke to the fire and police in charge and they defended her saying that she had just been called in.  But isn’t it their responsibility to make sure that people coming home know if it’s their home that’s been lost to fire or not?

I found out why I love Facebook.  I wasn’t up to communicating directly with people.  Facebook gave me a place to vent, to be comforted, to explain why I wasn’t contacting some people directly though I had promised to call when I arrived home.

This was my worst nightmare–coming home from vacation to a burnt house.  Fortunately it was somebody else’s home, unfortunately for them.  And I will bring this up to city officials.  Damn, just saw the Mayor’s husband and didn’t even think…..

My garden.  I had cute little things written next to each photo.  They didn’t take.  But I spent my summer making this–everything from the multi decks to the plants.  Well Eldon did the carpentry.  I didn’t include the upper deck or views from.Next post.

The pink blossom tree is the Crepe Myrtle.  The Myrtles are named for it  Next year I will photograph the process–cutting it back to the bark–waiting and waiting and waiting….Then!  Same with the Elephant Ears.

I brought the cold cuts to a place not far from here where I know homeless people live. It felt as if I were doing something illegal as an organization likes to be the group to feed them but the New Yorker in me couldn’t just throw it out or bring it to a far away food bank when I don’t have a car, and am really feeling that lack right now.

I called my best friend, almost crying, and said that if there were a housing market I would put my house on the market though normally I love it here. She gave me an unsettling answer: “don’t you dare. It’s going to be worth a ton once the beaches further South go.”

That answer of course made me totally tear. I hope she’s wrong. Not that I don’t want my house to be worth at least what it was when I bought it plus the cost of the renovations but I can’t bear to think about what she said.

The day began horribly when I called the AC company as a vent sounded as if it were a jet way at Kennedy Airport. Well I didn’t know somebody closed the vent. I wouldn’t mind having paid the $80 (which I do think is excessive) if several months ago I hadn’t called to say that there was an AC leak and I smelled something more. The leak turned out to be condensation. The man said it was my fault because I had a door partially open and didn’t bother to look further. It smelt like mold and old people. I didn’t consciously think that the old people smells were from my childhood–and really my grandmother, of The Bronx, Miami Beach and Monticello–the woman didn’t have a cent to her name but she did live well and had a ton of mildewy suitcases I still can picture.

About a month ago, I brought some suitcases into the crawl space and discovered all the insulation falling off and tons of water. I had Eldon fix it and bought a dehumidifier which has been filling up with water every damn day. It’s good for my upper deck plants, the water that is. The company told me today that they would have paid for it then had I called.

Why do I listen to Eldon? He’s the king of passivity. Today I told him that it’s his responsibility to call the plumber to fix the shower that I spent way too much money on, can hardly use and it flooded due to the plumber both inventing a flood and fixing it wrong. Only cost $850 to fix. I wouldn’t use him to fix the shower but I’m so damn tired of spending money on this house.

Now of course Eldon’s angry at me. Not angry as much as wants nothing to do with me.

And sadly I both like him as a friend and need him for all the little things my friend’s husbands attempt to do, and for rides when I don’t want to call a friend or take a taxi. I can’t believe I live in a place where public transport doesn’t exist and isn’t a priority. You have no idea how infantilizing that is. There are buses to Charleston, but I’m going with a friend in the fall. Trains run from Marion or Florence (I get the women named towns confused.) Both are about an hour and a half from here, and Eldon said he would drive me if we have a hurricane. That and my huge closet that opens both into the bedroom and bathroom are my entire hurricane/tornado plans.

I don’t make a good dependent type person. Too ornery.

I haven’t been very productive for many reasons and I’m scared that I lost my will after all these years of wanting to do nothing but write. I’m joining a writing group that meets in the library. It’s been a long time,actually never, since I’ve been in a writing group where you don’t have to be selected.

My reality is that I find myself boring. I know the story. I need encouragement. I need a lot of things. It’s funny that I live at the beach and yet really feel that I need a couple of days just being at the beach–I go after everything else is done. I do love it this time of year though yesterday I began sweating when I walked into the water which was certainly strange and stranger since I’m the glisten not sweat type.

I have no idea where I’m going with this post. So encourage me to do other things such as be productive. Tell me you will buy a copy of the book though if you comment here you will probably get one because just because…..

Lil Red (a brunette that I call Lil Red for other reasons) said she was going to give up the tonic in her gin. She caught me trying not to laugh as everybody applauded. Had she said she was going to give up the gin I would have understood the applause. She doesn’t really drink that much and honey this is the South!
Thus began one of the best friendships I have ever had. She has me in committee after committee.

She’s from New Orleans and moved here for that most satisfactory and not reason–love man love. Tall Husband Suitor (THS) is worth it. I think they’ve made me part of the family!

On the Fourth in 09 I had a barbecue for friends from Atlanta. Then we went to the Cherry Grove fireworks, known as the best on the Grand Strand. This Fourth I went to a barbecue at Lil Red’s and THS’s. I’m not a meat eater but had two small pieces that were incredible and could have converted me if I didn’t spend half my time obsessing about food put into my body.(Have to work on that one.) Fortunately we decided not to go to the fireworks. They started an hour late and weren’t great or so everybody says.

I’m working on getting my mojo back. Moving from everything known and a giant support network that I did take for granted hasn’t been easy. I wasn’t feeling well in June. It wasn’t the weather but a confluence of things such as “this house is really nice. Now where is my city apartment.” I know the move will be worth it, in the long and short run, but will never take people for granted again..

Last night I went to a memorial service in a club. It’s not that I have spent my life wanting to go to memorial services, but yes I have wanted to go to one in a club. People were dancing,talking, crying, looking at slides, listening to music, and as always eating and drinking.

As I have a pivotal birthday in about eleven days, I’m thinking too much about everything that can go wrong–in life, death and everything in between.

This birthday’s making me wish I were a praying person. I’m not so all I can do is throw great thoughts everywhere and hope many good things–if I sound obtuse, well, the book won’t be. I finally understand, and am able to rectify, what’s been holding me back! Or I hope that last sentence is true. I hate being so Woody Allenish. I would settle for Seinfeld but I’m afraid he’s too optimistic for me. Then again…..

Obsessively straightened out closets as an antidote to “I’m losing my mind. All my great lines have been written by me already and I’m too lazy to look at my writings and get them in order.”

Basically felt lazy except for cleaning closets and ordering a friend who came from Baltimore to go to Pawley’s Island, Brookgreen Gardens (highly recommend the pontoon ride in the rice fields–perfect for the hottest day. Though the two and a half hours of walking around after the ride was a bit too much.) Aside from making him go to almost every beach on the South Carolina Grand Strand thought I would make him go to the North Carolina beaches. If he comes to visit again it will be a miracle as I was an interesting combination of hyper and spacey.

Gardened like crazy. Learned that you really shouldn’t have annuals here because most wilt in 100 degrees.

Bought canning cans and look at them. Scared to start the disinfecting process though I know it’s real simple as I read the direction in Real Simple. Still.

Read more books in a month than I have all year. Think this had a lot to do with being away from the computer.

A keyboard died of heat related factors. Learned you just can’t go to a neighborhood store and get a Mac compatible keyboard as you can in NY. In NY of course you have your choice of Apple stores too. Somehow this memory, and I love Apple stores, brought back the reasons I left

Became one with my stability ball. Would take it out at night and look at my deck upside down. Very relaxing. Unfortunately when Noel came it became too hot. He’s the last person I know to smoke and I would actually sit in the garden and talk to him as I learned that extremely high humidity and very high temperatures don’t make all smells exaggerated but seems to eat the smoke. This I didn’t know. We didn’t get into pesky “smoke in the house” issues as there’s no house he’s allowed to smoke in. I found an ashtray I bought in NY because it was pretty.

I learned I can’t eat pancakes and other foods that aren’t good for me. Whether this is permanent or a byproduct of the heat I don’t know yet.

I would have to say June 2010 was one of the strangest months of my life, and love to hear about how other people found it strange.

Oh just to make this clear–I do love heat. But I’m convinced this heat spell was a byproduct of the Gulf disaster. Don’t ask me to be rational about it. It just felt strange. Very strange!

And I hope we have lots of lightening tonight I can watch and daydream to.

Happy Birthday America! May you become the country I know you can be; and there be jobs for all.
No CLo, I’m not becoming a teaparty person just because sometimes I take my chair behind beach bars and listen to the music. I don’t quite get the connection but hey I was slow this month.

I’m having a hard time focusing on my memoir and I can’t blame 92 degrees at 7PM. Actually that I can–weather like this makes me hyper. It’s good for house projects. Don’t ask. And don’t ask about my need to drink seltzer with ginger powder. That was an integral part of a post I threw out and means absolutely nothing in this one. Oh the vanity of the long time blogger.

No I have been going through a crisis of “my birthday’s in a month and a few weeks and I haven’t accomplished anything important with my life.” It’s a pivotal birthday. One that makes 50 look like a walk in the park.

I fear that I’m becoming old and my experiences aren’t relevant anymore. That the gist of the stories buried within these pages are sooo yesterday.

I understand why I’m going through this and a lot of it has to do with being burnt. I thought it was almost four years ago that I found out about non verbal learning disorder (nld) but it’s only been going on three years. The same year I decided it was time to get out of Dodge, renovated to sell, sold, bought a house, renovated, lost a lot of my resources, and well….It finally hit me this past month….

I no longer live in Manhattan. As crazy as it made me it was my identity. If I accomplished nothing with my life I was a great New Yorker. Yesterday I saw an ad for menupages and almost began to cry. I consulted it as if it were the bible. With menupages you didn’t need to have ten restaurants on speed dial though of course I did.

It’s different here. I couldn’t really serve my Anna Nicole Smith Trailer Park Dinner, that later became the Anna Nicole Smith Memorial Trailer Park Dinner. I no longer eat hamburgers, wouldn’t serve on the styrofoam containers, and people here are a bit more politically correct in someways or at least more material in very strange ways. The Anna Nicole Smith Memorial Trailer Park Dinner wouldn’t be funny.

OK honestly only Rafe found it funny. Lucia was aghast that I would serve company on styrofoam, but I would use company napkins. Made of paper yet pretty.

Now I use real plates, and cloth napkins and it’s better for the environment but I’m beginning to feel that we’re doomed anyway so why….

I didn’t use these things often in New York as I owned neither a dishwasher nor a washer/dryer. I don’t miss that part. No not at all. Though I’ve been trying to find a clothes line and can’t find one at Wal Mart. I might have to go online. It will be so nice to have clothes dried outdoors.

I like it here. I certainly like being able to walk to the beach when I want or not walk to the beach and read in one of my decks. I like the friends I have made and the friends who are coming.

But Pia doesn’t live in New York anymore, has done absolutely nothing of worth with her life, and was already an adult when her parents, who had children late for then, were her age.

For somebody who has done nothing of worth with my life I’ve done a lot in the past three years and am so mentally fatigued I can’t tell when I’m writing something good or not. This is a half pity party. Half just the truth. I don’t use “so,” on my own. I use “just.” I’m going to stop that. Just as soon as I find what’s left of my mind.

I want to write fiction as I love it but feel a memoir has a much better chance of being published. I’m just so over myself

Sage linked to a much more explanatory coherent post he wrote several years ago. I was too angry.

Westboro Baptist Church came to North Myrtle today and I went to my first demonstration in the South.

As a New York Jewish liberal I don’t often talk religion or politics here with anybody but my friends from home. It’s easier and I don’t really want to.

I say all this as I had problems understanding why Westboro was picketing churches, especially an Evangelical one. After all don’t they have the same basic aim? To baptize people into Christ’s love so they can go to heaven?

Then I realized the word love isn’t a word anybody associated with Westboro would use. Love is a concept they wouldn’t understand. They understand hate and only hate. It’s difficult to get anywhere near their mindset.

There are people who go to Barefoot Community Church I consider to be friends. It’s a church I have spent much time in, not for religious events. So I hope that nobody from Barefoot is offended by anything I say or do.

I will be demonstrating on Friday when Westboro hits schools and other public buildings because as a Jew I know how Hitler began. He was a radical fringe idiot people said “don’t listen to. He’ll go away.” Six million Jews and countless other people later he did.

I come from a long tradition of protesters.

Being silent sounds good. But turning the other cheek doesn’t work. I was raised on stories about my great grandparents and grandparents escaping the programs of Russia, about the Scottsboro Boys, and yes I was a young teenager during the civil rights movement who wanted nothing more than to be old enough to be a part of it. I proudly worked against the Viet Nam war but never once disrespected a troop and find it insulting when people assume that all of us who protested were against the troops.

I love North Myrtle. I put a lot of time and resources into my home. I have been developing a good life here.

I hope that my beliefs are respected also. It’s not me who is preaching hate. It’s not me who boycotts troops funerals or calls every American who doesn’t have Westboro’s beliefs “sodomizers” and “murderers.”

This is my blog. It’s not protected under The First Amendment. That means I can delete any comment I want to. Fortunately I don’t get the comments or the readers I once did. But this post–this post is important to me as I will not sit silently when messages of hate are being spewed in my front yard.

On March 5. 2008 I took a Spirit airplane down here and began my unofficial residency.  On March 31st last year I moved into this house!

My taxes were driving me crazy.  Certain items wouldn’t fit into any part of any program I tried.  I refused to send my taxes to my New York CPA on the grounds that I’m pretty sure his mistake got me audited.  The audit sat on his desk for two months because “you sent it to me during tax season,” and he made some mistakes in my tax return.

I couldn’t deal with looking at my taxes anymore and didn’t want to go to a CPA.  So I took them to Wal Mart. Yes Wal Mart.  Where I had to explain what “cost basis” was, among other things, but five hours later between the very nice woman, the district manager who used a remote computer and me we got them done.  It turned out I couldn’t find the places because there weren’t any places in regular programs for them, and the district manager did somethings she explained to me.  I just had some weird stuff.  Not much money but a lot of very weird items.

I can’t explain how happy this made me.  Not only were my taxes done but I was finished with New York, except for the dentist, family and friends.  My dentist(s) and I have gone through so much together I can’t give them up.

I was so excited after finishing at Wal Mart I called my sister who got out of her sick bed to be very excited also.  Maybe when she comes to North Myrtle this summer, she’ll actually go into Wal Mart.  Last year all she did was say “that’s so pretty.  Where’s it from?”  “Wal Mart.”  “What a gorgeous street.  Where does it go?”  “Wal Mart.”