In My Myst

I have decide to start selling some of my handmade items on this site.  My goal is to set up shop through Paypal.  There will be a range of items.  Most will be crocheted and will vary from blankets and throws to clothing.  It will feature items created by me and my sister Cindy.  Keep checking in because this may take me a little time.

See you soon!

Mom and I just took a couple of Bob Ross classes.  Check out the "Happy Trees" gallery on the right of the page.  I'm gonna try to get pictures of Mom's if she'll let me post them.  Neither one of us have been able to get that whispery voice down though.  You know how loud we are!  That's gonna take practice!

Sometimes you hesitate to share peaceful places like this with others. It's the fear that too many people will learn the best kept secret and ruin the character of a quaint little town.  Big Mill Bed & Breakfast is one of those secrets but I won't be so selfish.  So, I'll share a little of our experience there.

The farmland is heavenly and the rain on the tin roof sings a beautiful lullaby to a tired soul.  It is a place where stars are not muted by street lights, the only bouncer needed is a cat named Moses and if you look close enough, you can see a deep South version of Middle Earth's Tree Beard.  It made me long for the time when my hometown wasn't filled with me first attitudes, road rage and the aroma of asphalt.  It was a reminder that to find true peace, we need only to simplify.

Chloe Tuttle, the innkeeper, is one of the most delightful people we've met in a long time.  She seems to have boundless energy and a joyous sense of humor.  You can see what I mean if you take a peek at Chloe's blog.  

And now it's time for the embarrassing incident report:

Yes, it is yet more proof that I am my mother's daughter!  Robert and I were taking a stroll around the farm so he could take pictures.  We stoped so he could get a picture of the Southern Tree Beards.  We all know that, if I stand still for more than a minute, I fall over.  So, I decided to lean on the fence.  I heard a "this is gonna hurt" crackling sound.  The next thing I knew, I was yelling "Oh Shit" with my body folded in half over the remnants of the lovely white fence.  A few of the other guests were peering out their room windows...I just know it!!!  Nothing like being the day's entertainment.

I had only met this woman a few hours earlier.  How in the hell am I going to tell her I broke her fence??  Embarrassed but knowing I had no choice,  we found Chloe and I told her I fell through the fence. It was at this point I knew she had to be a long lost family member.  She looked at us and said...

"It's not supposed to be THAT rotten!"

These words were priceless and worth every embarrassing detail. 

We went the next day and bought the wood to repair the fence.  Peep got to play pick-up truck and Robert and I got to play Tom Sawyer.  It's the simple things that bring the biggest smiles.

We had a wonderful time there and hope to return sometime soon.  If you visit Big Mill, and I hope you do, remember to simplify and don't pass up the chance to taste Chloe's prize winning strawberry jam! 

A Southern accent should be a requirement for all tour guides/rangers at historic Southern landmarks.  I'm tired of losing my heritage to the Fran Drescher clones!  I don't expect to hear a Northern accent guiding me through the history of the Hatteras light any more than I expect a Southern one to guide me through the history of the Empire State Building. 

No phony Paula Dean crap will be accepted!  While I don't dislike Paula, I have heard her talk in a normal tone and the display you get on Food Network isn't it.  My mother watched her on a talk show a few months ago and, when she caught herself not being quite Southern enough, she said "y'all" for no apparent reason.   To all who don't know...we don't all talk like that!  There is such a thing as a beautiful Southern drawl.

 Please don't accuse me of being anti-North.  I am married to a wonderful man from New Jersey and wouldn't have it any other way.   I know what a knish is and I love them.  My husband has taught me the difference between real Italian food and psuedo Italian.  He's shown me the joys of Rut's Hut and a great diner.  He's taught me not to wander around New York looking up (it's hard to do because the buildings are beautiful) and not to be offended when no one smiles at me.  Not everyone up North is loud and abrasive and if they are, it isn't personal.  They have lovely neighborhoods and great neighbors (not everyone lives in the city).  There's something to be said for being able to get whatever you want at almost any hour.  And last but not least...there are Yankee REDNECKS!  I've seen them!

Although he's from Jersey, he understands I like my tea sweet, my tomatoes home grown, my potato salad with mustard and my green beans cooked.  I'm happy to share it with you you but if you don't like it, don't tell me how it's "supposed" to be cooked. He knows what grits are and he likes them.  He accepts that I eat snow cream, I can live without a deli and he surely tires of hearing me say I wish they'd leave the trees alone.

My rant is nothing more that a longing for the things I grew up enjoying.  The beautiful scenery is disappearing as folks sell family farms to real estate developers.  The slow Southern drawl dies away as our home towns become the new places to move for those who think they want to leave the hustle and bustle.  Even my husband said he came down here to get away from all that.  The problem is the hustle and bustle comes with them.   If you move here, remember... just because we don't have what you're used to, it doesn't mean we NEED it!

OK, y'all I'm done now.  Nite!