Monsters and Border Collies

Haley and Cedie do not like monsters. Whatever real or perceived they are very cautious about what they can’t understand.

Haley will resist going outside for days after a thunderstorm. She’ll creep out, look to the sky and run back to the door.

At night Haley sleeps on the end of the bed. Whenever Gigi or I twitch our feet Haley will jump straight up in the air. She is positive that monsters live under the covers and one day those monsters will get her.

Cedie has nightmares and comes running to us in the night when she wakes from a nightmare.

Cedie and Haley both fear the dark.

Peaches is horrified by lady bugs and we know chirping fire alarms. Go figure.

Today Gigi thought it would be great fun if she hid in the tub, disguised her voice and tried to scare Haley.

She lured in Haley and Cedie was behind.

Gigi pops out of the tub making monster noises and both dogs scramble for the door barking and snapping each other with their eyes as big as saucers.

Barking and general mayhem erupted.

Not a good idea.

It's Monday...Back to the Salt Mines

Beer production was the name of the game this weekend.

Saturday afternoon I bottled a batch that I made two weeks ago. It was a recipe similar to Heineken in taste.

I washed a zillion bottles (52) and sanitized them. Everything has to be sterile since this beer is not pasteurized. I swear I think I could do surgery in this little guest kitchen.

I get obsessed with germs so I sanitize the counter, my hands, pots, pans, spoons and anything that comes in contact with the beer. It takes 20 minutes contact with bleach and three rinsing to declare it sanitized and fit for beer contact.

Hell I don’t cook my food in an environment this clean.

I don’t even expose the beer to air when I transfer it. The beer only moves through sanitized siphon tubes.

The capper gave me a problem. Once I fill six sanitized bottles, I take six sanitized caps and cap each bottle. For some reason I wasn’t getting a good crimp on the bottles and could twist the cap afterwards. This was not a good enough seal for Mr. No Germs. Plus I needed a perfect seal for the beer to carbonate.

So I go back and re-crimp 52 bottles four times each. Then I discovered that I was not doing something correctly and was actually using a wine bottle setting. Then I went back and crimped 52 bottles again correctly this time.

My pectoral muscles are killing me.

Then Sunday morning I got up early and sanitized everything and brewed up another batch of beer. This is some German knock off.

So I have one batch fermenting, one batched bottled and conditioning, and once case left out of two of the first batch I made in June.

It is my intent to save that first case for a while to come tastes with these other batches in a month or so.

I certainly wouldn’t go to all this trouble if this stuff was so darn good and superior to any beer that I have tasted. It is amazing that I can make this beer from my kitchen.

St. Croix Equinox

It is almost 6 months until the coveted winter vacation in St Croix. I call it the St Croix equinox.

This will be our sixth winter there and at least our eighth trip to the island.

I wanted to share with all you bloggers in blogland just how fortunate I’ll be next February.

We are renting Villa Madeleine - Toucan House. We looked at this place when we were down in May and loved the view. I know it will be very windy and warm in February.

Jogger's Nipple

Jogger's nipple - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

You just can't beat Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia when you are tired of the regular news and need something uplifting to read (no pun intended).

Take for instance jogger's nipple. Someone assigned this article, someone wrote it and someone approved it. Now I can edit it if I have additional information.

Worst of all I am reading it.

Hell I just thought it was something that happed to me when I was a kid riding a canvas inflatable all day in the salt water.

I would have looked real cool if I stuck Band-Aids over my nipples as the article suggest.

Gosh I must be bored.

Baking With Julia

I finished all my morning chores like grass cutting, cleaning up fallen limbs, feeding the horses, etc. and decided it was time for a shower and a bite of lunch.

I turned on the TV with my sandwich, chips and Diet Pepsi and there was Julia Child.

I always liked her. I remember her on TV way back in the 1960’s.

As I was watching, and I mean no disrespect to the dead, I noticed how much she looked like an orangutan.

I Hate Messy Emails

I hate messy emails.

I know you get them. Somebody sends you an email that has been sent and forwarded to

Note: forwarded message attached.
Open multiple messages at once with the all new Yahoo! Mail Beta.
X-Apparently-To: via; Mon, 15 May 2006 04:14:07 -0700
X-Originating-IP: []
Authentication-Results:; domainkeys=neutral (no sig)

The gobblety goop text goes on and on.

All that messy text bogs down my brain and I rarely read the forwarded email. I have a short attention span you know.

If the email has a lot of reading to do and or a puzzle then I don’t bother. It makes me mad to read for a few minutes and it not funny or insightful. I hate puzzles. I can smell the ozone coming from my brain when I work on puzzles.

I don’t think most people think all those email are funny. The reason they send them on is to prove that they are popular enough to get an email from someone else. Then they leave the crap on the email to show where it’s been like a well traveled passport.

I have an old college pal that forwards the best emails. It’s mostly guy stuff. They are so good for the most part that I have a special alarm that rings when one of his emails comes in. I know it going to be funny and I know it will be cleanly formatted. They will be a funny picture or video usually. If they are naughty he has the courtesy to put “Shoulder Check” on the subject line.

A Day in Redneck Court

Well the shit hit the fan or least the shit was tossed toward the fan today.

Gigi and I took the afternoon off and headed to the Cabarrus county courthouse to renew our concealed carry gun permit and to visit the magistrate’s office.

In North Carolina you can carry a concealed weapon if you meet stringent guidelines.

First you have to be properly trained on firearms which we have, you must have a clean criminal record which we have, you cannot be crazy which this is questionable, and you must pass a Quantico FBI background check.

Then you are able to carry a concealed firearm with many restrictions like you cannot carry a firearm in a bank, school, government building, public gathering, any place that sells booze, or if you have been drinking, etc.

I know a lot of you may thing carrying guns are crazy but it’s a normal part of our Southern culture. I don’t desire to shoot anyone but we are protected from crazies and know how and when to use deadly force. So far I’ve gone 50 years without shooting anyone or being shot.

So we filled out all the forms and paid the Sherriff $150 and we are done in 90 days. The permit is good for five years unless I get caught breaking any of the rules outlined above.

We then headed down to the Magistrate’s office to charge my redneck neighbor with littering. I have had enough bricks dumped on my property.

We walked into a tiny well marked room off the main street of Concord, NC, our county seat. There sat in the 8 available seats were a Hispanic family and a Black family. A young well dressed couple was at the bullet proof glass window getting a marriage license and getting ready to get marred in the next room.

Gigi whipped out $20 and paid for the marriage license. They were delighted.

The magistrate, bride, groom and family stepped out of sight to perform the ceremony while Gigi and I waited.

Another couple came in and the woman was obviously a junkie. She was wired to the max, had very dark circles around her eyes and admitted that she had just started rehab for heroin and was taking methadone for withdrawals. She was there on a domestic charge that she wanted to file.

A bondsman came in to bail out a few clients and did his paperwork standing up.

Finally the magistrate came in and I pleaded my case. She recommended that I charge for littering and save the trespassing charge in case it is needed. Trespassing carries a higher fine and is considered a higher offense.

So I took her suggestion and filed littering and dumping charges on my redneck neighbor.

The Sherriff will now deliver the charge and tell the redneck his court date to plead his case. I will be subpoenaed to appear in court.

What an idiot he is.

Details to follow……..gosh isn't this exciting!

You Gotta Try This

I love saltine crackers and peanut butter. I prefer Zesta saltines and crunchy Jiff peanut butter to be exact.

I only eat one or two peanut butter crackers every so often to stave off hunger if I’ve missed a meal. It’s not like I sit around in my shorts and undershirt and stuff them down. I carefully prepare one with the salt side opposite where I am putting on the peanut butter as God intended.

Occasionally I’ll step it up a notch and make it with 2 crackers and peanut butter in between.

This morning I decided I wanted two of these little sandwiches and thought, “how would it be with three crackers and two layers of peanut butter?”

I decided to go for it and even filled in the sides with more peanut butter to smooth the whole treat out to a neat little block.

I figured the things would crumble when I bit into it but to my surprise and delight it stayed together and the peanut butter bond allowed me to take smaller bites than usual.

Yes it was decadent but good. This of the calories I save by leaving off one cracker too!

Beer Review

As NFL football season approaches the time has come to brush up on old tailgate recipes and test new recipes and brews.

Last night I fired up the testing grounds and bought some Johnsonville Original Brats, two ears of white corn, and bought a 6 pack of the new Heineken Light.

I cooked the brats slowly over charcoal along with the ears of corn. I simply removed the silk on the corn and recovered the ear in its own husk so the ears could stream.

Now to kick back and enjoy a beer so I grabbed a cold Heineken Light.

Heineken Light is not your typical light beer. I like all beers however expect most lights to be very mild in flavor and very light in body.

This beer was different. It had the boldness of an American Lager in a light beer. The beer in no way tasted like a regular Heineken but stood on it’s own as a nice refreshing larger.

There was a more pronounced hop taste that you expect from a Heineken but it was scaled way back from a regular Heineken.

The familiar green bottle was a little taller than it mother brew but folks around you know you are having a Heineken at a glance.

I would buy it again but warn you to stay away if you are expecting a heavy hopped full body beer.

It is a very good refreshing beer that could replace your Corona or Budweiser and cut you calories at the same time with little compromise in taste. It stands on its own.

The Most Important Possession in Life

I used to be very active in the church. In fact I am an ordained elder in the Presbyterian Church.

Every quarter I would go out with my pastor and we would visit shut-ins and give them Communion.

Most of these folks were very old and very feeble. Most would be dead by our next visit.

All of the nursing homes we visited were government sponsored and the level of care was minimal at best. In there defense it must be a struggle for them to hire qualified and caring people.

As soon as you entered the facility you learned to shut off your nose and get used to seeing very old people naked. Whew!

Back to the point…..most folks at this stage in life have consolidated their possessions down to a bare minimum.

All of them had a picture of a loved on somewhere in sight. They all had on their own night closes and a change or two around.

Most if not all then had the rest of their possessions consolidated down to a cigar or small shoe box, which usually contained grooming items, a comb, tooth brush, lotion, a few keep sakes, some religious item, and always no matter who it was functioning set of fingernail clippers.

The fingernail clippers were the common denominator with everyone no matter what.

The reason I had privy to these prized positions is that often the person would share an additional picture of a family member with us or take out that sacred religious item when we were about to give them Communion. So I could see the contents of their important stuff.

Yep, fingernail clippers topped the list every time.

Forget your fancy possessions, the only thing that really matters in life are fingernail clippers.

The Redneck Report

Today our redneck neighbor dumped another load of bricks on our disputed border.

I called the magistrates office and he suggested I file trespassing and littering charges.

Gigi and I will go to the county office on Thursday to file charges.

Enough is enough.

Yellow Tape

As most of you know, I love St. Croix, USVI. It is my favorite vacation destination by far.

I cherish the friends I have met there and find the culture there unique and quintessential Caribbean.

I could live there especially in retirement, but seriously doubt Gigi could. So I’m happy to just visit a few times a year and maybe spend a month at a time there some day.

To me the weather is more desirable than any place on the mainland. The average daytime temperature ranges from 84 in the winter to 90 in the summer. Most of the island is bathed in a strong breeze that keeps the air fresh and the temperatures tolerable.

Yes it is warm in St Croix and down right hot sometimes. However the ever present big fluffy clouds provide intermittent shade and the ocean breeze is almost always present, making the heat warm and tropical, but not stifling. The evening is always windy and pleasant in the 70s.

Because of my obsession with St Croix I tend to spend far too much time watching the harbor cam. I watch the tourists having fun and I look to see if I recognize anyone. Once I saw Big Beard a local boat captain that I have met.

We always go to St Croix in February and this year we did a bonus visit and went again in May.

During this last visit in May I wanted to leave a little something to let everyone know I was there. I wanted whatever I did to be in site of the web cam so I could see it back home in Charlotte, but not noticeable enough that someone would remove it.

I thought it would be cool to see what I left behind and think, “Hey I did that”.

What I came up with was 1 inch yellow reflective tape. I applied the tape around the ever present light pole on the boardwalk.

My sister Judy watched from Durham as I applied the tape. We laughed on the phone together as she watched. I had a Corona to celebrate on the bench in front of the cam and watched the sailboats.

Why I do this type of stuff I will never know. Somehow though, when I view the yellow tape the web cam image seems more real to me. I was there. I look forward to visiting my yellow tape again God willing and may add another color next February.


I do not like to read fiction. I never have. I cannot sit long enough and concentrate on a made up story by someone I don’t know. I do occasionally listen to books on CD, but they even bore me after a while.

I prefer silence when I drive, conversation or talk radio.

I like short stories but I don’t think anyone writes them anymore. The last ones I read as a child were O’Henry in the 1960s and they were very dated then. But I could at least hang in there and read a whole story.

When people say, “The book was so good that I couldn’t put it down”, I’m thinking, “I sure could and I don’t even know what the book was about”.

A few years ago I saw my friend Charlie spend three or four solid days reading The Da vinci Code. Heck I can’t stay comfortable for more than three minutes. How can anyone sit hours on end reading a fantasy in the same position when there is so much going on around them that is reality?

I guess I’m wired different for sure.

When people pause while reading on vacation they always have this stupid look on their face. I think their brain is still in the fantasy of the book and they are adjusting to reality and you can tell they prefer the fantasy world they just left. Good for them.

I actually read the Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck one time. The book was about four inches thick and I hung with it cover to cover. Big hairy deal, I read a classic. I’ll never get that slot of my real life back and I am scarred with the story of poor folks during the depression, plus the ending was funky.

When I married Gigi I married into a family that could spend every waking hour in a bookstore. They buy books by the pound and never read them but they love their books.

I don’t even like the way books smell. I remember the first time I walked into the school library when I was 6. Whew, those books smelled musty. And crap, I have to read them.

Personally I would rather read a shop manual or look at a catalog. Then and only then can my mind roam.

Gigi went to Tractor Supply yesterday. She picked up their catalog for me because she knew I liked that kind of stuff.

The tractor supply catalog had lots of pictures of farm implements and short descriptions. It was perfect and to the point. A compelling read. I couldn’t put the book down.

This was an especially good read because I’m going into day three without an Internet connection at home.


I have a gym in my building where I work. It’s located on the lower level of the building and it’s free to all tenants.

I truly hate to work out, but I faithfully go down every day at 2:00 PM and vigorously ride a stationary bike for at least 30 minutes. I chose a stationary bike because it’s the only cardio exercise you can do and still sit on your butt.

The only exception to my workout is if I’m playing golf that day and I will forgo the workout. I generally chase enough poorly hit balls to qualify as a workout.

Heart disease runs in my family so I figure I’ll at least give myself a fighting chance and not smoke and do a cardio workout on a regular basis.

Any of you that view my cam may have noticed around 3:00 PM I emerge in workout clothes and sit at my desk. I try to have most of my in office meetings in the morning when I am alert and fresh.

When I go down at 2 o’clock I usually energetically run down the flight of stars to the gym. When I return I generally am less enthusiastic and take the one floor ride on the elevator.

There are a lot of fat-ass smokers (FAS) in our building and the designated smoking area happens to be just outside on the basement level.

Typically I share the elevators ride up one floor with a FAS. Inevitably when they realize I’m only on for one floor they will comment that I should have taken the stairs.

I would normally have a snappy comeback but I am too tired by the time I get the insult.

Today it happened again. A FAS female all stinky with smoke, with ugly feet and bad hair color just huffed when I pressed the 1 button.

What I need is a well prepared George Costanza comeback to the FAS comments.

Any suggestions?

*If you are a fat-ass smoking American then by all means accept my apology.

Evelyn Wilson

It was an Evelyn Wilson weekend for us.

Evelyn Wilson was the mother of a mutual friend of Gigi and mine back when we were just teenagers living in Durham, NC.

Evelyn had some mid level management job at Bank of America that required long hours during the work week. Back in the 70’s it was rare for a woman to have such a job. Most working women were nurses, teachers, or worked in retail.

It was standard operating procedure that on the weekends that Evelyn would stay mostly in her robe, watch TV in bed and do nothing productive. She didn’t receive guests, talked very little to anyone including her husband and children and was basically unseen.

You might get a glimpse of Evelyn foraging for food in the Kitchen.

Those two days were Evelyn’s and she spent them anyway she wanted. In her case this was the ultimate R and R.

Back then we did not have cable or satellite TV; therefore Evelyn was confined to watching one of four local channels of which one was Public TV. Public TV was terrible back then and it was referred to as Educational TV.

I should have known an Evelyn Wilson weekend was coming.

First the weather was uninhabitable. It was hot, sticky, no breeze and was on the verge of fog most of the weekend. It was just plain old heavy outside. I don’t even plan outdoor activities whenever the dew point is in the 70’s and the windows fog.

Then there was the British Open. I stayed on the sofa most of Saturday and Sunday watching a bunch of guys play golf 6 times zones away.

Gigi stayed in bed and watched old movies, and did some beading and jewelry making.

Finally the last nail in the coffin for an official Evelyn Wilson weekend was that we lost all connectivity with the outside world when Internet connection went down.

Late Friday night a bolt of lightening hit nearby and took out the basic cable; broadband Internet and our electric fence (but please don’t tell the horses).

Losing the Internet connection really depressed me. Heck I almost lost my will to blog.

Normally I leave my laptop running 24/7 right at my chair. I constantly scan news, weather, scores, blog, check email, instant message or Google anything that crosses my mind. Trust me, a lot of things cross my mind.

I go so desperate that late Sunday I attempted to use a dialup connection that Time Warner gives you as a backup. Just for a little glimpse of Yahoo, and email I thought.

But no, it was not meant to be. In my happier broadband times, I had casually discarded my dialup password. A new password would take 24 hours to become effective.

So, as it turned out it was an Evelyn Wilson weekend and we just chilled and did nothing. That was fun.

A Warning

Just a note of warning to all you would be crooks.

We at the Hunnicutt household produce a tremendous amount of forensic evidence.

Be warned that if you commit a crime in our home, car or RV, that there is a 100% chance that you take border collie hair with you.

This hair can be matched with one of three border collies that reside here. Most likely it will be Cedie’s hair but it could be any of them.

We have a house cat too just in case as a backup forensic source.

I Was Chosen

Neighborhood tensions have reached a crescendo and apparently we have drawn the full wrath of our redneck neighbor’s teenaged children.

We woke this morning to find that we were on the receiving end of an old fashioned yard rolling.

Yes we are victims of an apparent hate crime.

As a former teenager myself I must point out a major strategic error in their rolling execution.

First, always check the weather forecast before you roll. Ideally you want the victim to see the results of your wrath.

Fortunately for me we were blessed with an inch of rain in the middle of the night. No matter how good the rolling looked, it was all mush on the ground by morning. I thought the dog had chewed up the newspaper when I discovered.

Afternoon thunderstorms are expected today so the toilet paper may completely self clean by evening. After all it is toilet paper and it is designed to break down with the introduction of water.

In a way I see this as an honor. I have rolled yards in the past but I have never been on the receiving end of a rolling.

Golf Philosophy

It was a really nice this morning here in Charlotte. It was very slow in heating up and there was a warm and constant breeze most of the morning.

I had an 8:00 AM tee time with my pal Ty at our country club. As usual he was running late but the golf course was not appearing to be crowded. I would have thought that a good crowd would be gathered by now to beat the midday heat.

We managed to get up to the number one tee box on time and started a very casual and unrushed game.

By number three, par 3 we were both getting into our game and getting relaxed. After the tee shot we rode to the green together to putt.

Ty commented, “You know, someone this morning just made a million, someone just lost a million, someone died, someone was born and someone just got the bad news that they have terminal cancer. And we are playing golf on a beautiful morning.”

I understood that of all the things going on in the world, we were now at this moment pursuing exactly what we wanted to do and didn’t just for this moment have any worries or stresses. The outside world was still spinning and full of stresses but just for now we were enjoying our life as we should always do.

This is heavy for Ty.

He shot a great front 9.

I shot an expected 102 in 18 and thoroughly enjoyed it.

It's Hard To Beat A Good Nap

Since I’m always mentally on vacation, I decided to play hooky and skip work for the rest of the week.

So after lunch I packed up, signed off the laptop and meandered home doing a few errands on the way.

Now let me point out something to the kids out there… not try this at home yourself. I am a trained professional.

I am self employed and can basically call my own shots when it comes to work hours. As long as someone is back to cover the phone then I am okay.

The ultimate goal was to get home by 3:00 PM and catch a nap.

Oh how I love naps but rarely get to take one anymore.

Back a few years ago I had to take a medication for epilepsy that constantly made me sleepy. I took a nap almost daily. I had to or I couldn’t make it through the day.

Now however I can make it through the day fine on the new medication and a nap is strictly a recreational treat.

So at the appointed time Gigi, the dogs Peaches, Cedie and Haley head to the bedroom, pull the shades and take a nap.

As I fall asleep, in the back of my mind I am thinking about a tee time I have in the morning at 8:00 AM. This is an early tee time for me. I usually play in the afternoon but it is too damn hot to play in the heat of the day.

I’ll have to get up at 6:00 AM, grab a bite, take a shower, and hit the practice range and then…….ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

I woke up at 4:20 and didn’t know what day it was. Oh crap! Did I over sleep? I missed my tee time!

Calm takes the place of panic when I realize it was only a nap. A darn good one at that I might add.

Never a dull moment…….

“HALEY!” Gigi screamed. “What are you chewing? Haley get! Get! Reggie, it’s a cat turd. Get something to clean it up, please.”

Oh crap I thought as I ran to get a paper towel. I thought she was over this.

“Where is it Gigi?”

“I thumped it under your chair”.

“Great, I appreciate that. Where exactly is it under my chair?”

“Don’t try to kiss me Haley!” Gigi yelled.

“I got it!” I said, “Gigi would you clean that spot with that anti-turd pet cleaner please?”

Say It Ain't So

I don’t want to hear it in the fall when there are two whole NFL football games on the same day. Whoopee!

Take a look at last night’s network TV schedule for 8:00 PM and I’m not making this up.

CBS Rock Star: Supernova
ABC The One: Making a Music Star
FOX So You Think You Can Dance
UPN America's Next Top Model
NBC America's Got Talent

How sissy is that? Oh dear, I have to choose one.

Actually my wife was quit psyched about, “So You Think You Can Dance”.

I meanwhile watched the last vestige of any manly programming by tuning into the award winning “Deadline!” on HDNet. It’s a news show with High Definition cameras and a pretty and sassy newscaster. Gosh it was clear.

So I eventually join her to watch this dance contest.

The first contestants were thrilled to have drawn the Hip Hop category.

I’ll be the first to tell you that I don’t know much about the Urban Hip Hop culture. I do know outwardly they all wear giant New York Yankee baseball caps sideways, and they all wear giant gigantic baggy shirts, with gigantic baggy pants, and wear gigantic gaudy necklaces, and hold their hands in such a way that you think they may all have arthritis.

That’s about all I know about Hip Hop so this upcoming dance should be a treat, because I know it going to show something big for sure.

Sure enough, the couple strikes a post in oversized clothes and the music starts. It struck me that someone had just thrown two kittens on a hot griddle. The movements were very jerky and fast. As soon as they headed in one direction they would reverse to the other direction.

Enough of that and I rolled over for a snooze.

Oh well, this is my penance for the upcoming football season.

I Completely Lost It

As you may know I am a new golfer in my second year of play.

I like my golf clubs. It’s taken me two years of golf to settle into a collection that I like and feel comfortable playing with.

The latest acquisitions were a Taylor Made driver and 3 wood I call Bucky and Virgil that I bought earlier in the season.

I name stuff I like and become very attached to it.

Anyway, enter dreamland last night. I’m checking into some mountain resort on business and I ask for my clubs to be sent to the club house and my bags to the hotel.

I am aware of a 3:00 PM tee time.

The course we are playing is a classic Donald Ross and it known to be difficult to get to.

Three o’clock rolls around and my luggage has not been delivered to the room. I’m wearing a dirty white tee shirt, cut off jeans, and flip flops. Yeah right, but this is my dream.

Obviously I have to find suitable clothes to play. For those that don’t know most golf courses require “suitable attire”. This means a collared shirt, dress shorts just above the knee, and proper golf shoes.

Somehow I acquire suitable attire and attempt to get a ride to the golf course.

I am told that the only way to get there is to walk and the journey is difficult. Many do not make their tee time. Heck I’m already late for my tee time.

So I start walking in the direction that the bell captain pointed to. After I walk a few blocks I enter the back of a large Pepsi Bottling Plant. I start crawling up the moving equipment in an attempt to get to a higher elevation and pass through to the front of the plant.

Eventually I am pushed back by an avalanche of crushed ice and must abandon my attempts.

Walking around the plant I notice a very tall, shaggy evergreen tree with low hanging boughs. Maybe a dozen people are climbing the tree and all are trying to get to the golf course.

At this time I recall thinking, “What the hell was I crawling through the Pepsi plant in crushed ice? Climbing this tree to play golf makes good sense”.

At last I am the only one who has made it to the top. I literally push my head through the turf and revealed to me is the most beautiful golf course that I have ever seen.

I dusted off, headed to the pro shop and explained why I was late. No problem and I have the course to myself. No wonder for that fact.

After the round, I ask for my clubs to be sent back to the hotel. No way am I going through this ordeal again to play their course.

When I get back to my room I find my clubs there and both Bucky and Virgil have been snapped in two.

I completely lost it. End of dream.

I woke up and saw Haley’s back foot sticking up in the air silhouetted against the moon lit window. It looked like a little cobra.

Time for some coffee and blogging.

The Redneck Report

Gigi just called me to inform me that the North Carolina Department of Transportation sent a big yellow truck with a full crew to pick up the redneck’s cinder blocks.

After the truck was loaded they stopped and glared at said redneck’s house.

For now, all is quiet on the redneck front.

Peaches Revisited

As you recall, I tossed the carbon monoxide alarm into the yard the other night and that was the end of the story, right?

Not a chance.

Yesterday I came home from work and was greeted by my usual entourage. Two happy care free border collies, one serious and concerned border collie and my bride.

Peaches has always been a serious and stressed out dog. She worries far too much and is an ideal candidate for Prozac. We even talked to the vet about Prozac once and the vet agreed. We never followed up on the advice.

Border collies in general are a smart and quirky breed. Peaches has taken this behavior to a new level of eccentricity. We love her for this though and actually consider Peaches the smartest of the three dogs.

Back to the story; Peaches is greeting me on the deck yesterday when from out in the yard comes the dreadful chirp from last nights bed wetting incident.

I guess Peaches is thinking this is some real life Terminator movie where you just can’t kill the machine no matter what.

Suddenly Peaches starts acting real funky, does a semi squat, and starts running away from the house all the while leaving a trail of dog pee.

She ran completely out of our yard, down past the redneck brick pile, through the DMZ redneck’s yard and off to the deep woods toward the creek. I ran after her calling her name but she continued to run like a possessed dog.

I knew she would come back and she did shortly. She was all wet from having gone to the creek for safety.

Meanwhile I stomped the “machine” until it no longer chirped and toss it in the garbage.

End of story.

I hope.

The Good Life

I must confess that I am a snob about fine living. I love the good life and appreciate the effort and subtleties that you encounter with fine living.

I like fine wine, fine dining and a private country club golf experience over a municipal golf course.

I can appreciate great resorts like the Montage or the St. Regis or Four Seasons any day. I love good service even if you pay a premium for it.

Give me linen table cloths, doilies, crumb scrapers, high count cotton sheets, fresh flowers, a nice spa, oriental rugs, a well stocked bar, oil paintings, stemware, candles, the symphony, formal gardens, good olive oil, San Francisco sour dough bread, real butter and maple syrup, godiva chocolate, an after dinner French roast coffee, ripe fresh fruit out of season, the million dollar view, and valet parking any day.

I remember great meals and sipping $600 bottles of Harlan wine while at The Prime Steakhouse in Bellagios in Las Vegas or sharing a magnum of 1993 Opus at the Palm in Charlotte. That was one damn good bottle of wine.

Fine living doesn’t always have to be expensive. I know places here in Charlotte you can get the finest southern cooking that money can buy. The meal will cost you less than $10.

I can take you to places that are free but the view is priceless.

Fine living used to make me uncomfortable because I wasn’t brought up this way. We were a happy and practical middle class family. Fine living used to make me feel uncomfortable and guilty. Now I enjoy fine living as it should be enjoyed.

My wife is a great cook and a wonderful wife and friend. I love the effort she puts into setting a good table and picking only the finest ingredients for her meals. That is fine living in my book. And I feel the love.

Unfortunately I can’t afford or sustain fine living at the rate I desire. Many of my fine experiences have been complementary and I am grateful for the experience (the $600 bottle of wine).

I guess my pinnacle of personal fine living is my annual winter trip to St. Croix. The views are wonderful, the friends are great, the weather is perfect and the food is fine. I can’t recall a more consistently relaxing place for me to be.

We always spend more money than we should in St Croix, and we treat ourselves more than the norm on the fun things money can buy, but the memories are priceless.

Necessary Updates

I was rightfully and correctly insulted by a reader in Canada. She said about my webcam,” I've only seen you at your desk once and the cyclone of papers never seems to be cleaned up.”

So today I am shuffling papers and attempting to clean up the desk.

In other news, the bricks remain on the right of way next to my mailbox. I called Sgt. Witherspoon with the NC Highway Patrol and he assured me that this will be resolved. He has called in Code Enforcement and again said that this will be resolved.

And now on the matter of the smoke alarm...

I changed the battery but we still heard the chirping. So I pulled the batteries and installed a new smoke alarm.

We still heard chirping. This is strange. How can it chirp without electricity?

The chirping really scares our number one Border Collie Peaches. Last night she started freaking over the sound, went into a panic attack of some sorts and peed in the bed…..our bed.

So nice fresh sheets were in order at 1:00 AM!

I tossed all smoke alarms both dead and alive out in the back yard and we still heard chirping.

Finally Gigi ventured into the dreaded junk bedroom. There is so much stuff in there and we are not sure exactly what’s in there to boot.

At last Gigi found the source of the chirping. It was an old Carbon Monoxide alarm that was on its death bed.

I tossed it out with the others and resumed a peaceful nights rest.

The Brewpub Report

I made my second batch of beer today. This new one is a lighter lager that is a clone of Heineken.

Actually it is ale and not a larger but it comes off as a lager, just in case there are some beer techies reading this blog.

This batch and maybe one more and I’ll be ready for the NFL regular season.

I also did something that I said I wouldn’t do.

I cheated and chilled an extra bottle of beer last night from my first batch for a taste test today. I put up four extra bottles which were actually old Red Stripe bottles. The other two cases were new bottles.

I plan to wait another week for the final release but had to know how it was coming along.

My biggest fear was that the beer would not carbonate properly and that it would somehow be contaminated and skunky.

As I open the beer and heard an encouraging spurt of air. Bubbles rose to the top.

When I poured the beer it made a very nice head about and inch in the glass. It had a nice amber color with a hop aroma.

The beer was awesome!

It is made as a Anchor Steam clone and had the same color as Anchor

It was as good as any microbrew ale that I have ever had.

I decided to “test” two more bottles just in case this first one bottle was a fluke. All bottles were great. I should have made my own beer years ago.

The quality is second to none. You can really detect the freshness over store bought and the taste is up with any import or microbrew.

This first batch was is a complete success and now I look forward to two mores cases of the delicious beer.

7/16/2006 7:26:28 AM

A quick check of yesterday’s new beer batch and all is well. The fermentation is taking place as it should.

I should be set to transfer to the beer to the glass tank next Saturday and refill the primary tank with a new batch. Ah, the old assembly line.

Then bottle the second batch the following Saturday and transfer the third batch to the glass tank.

Goose Has To Potty!

“Reggie, Goose has to potty!” Gigi said firmly at 3:20 AM this morning.

Cedie, alias; Goose, The Gray Goose, The Chinchilla, is our ½ Australian Shepherd and ½ Border Collie that we got from our friend at East Tennessee Border Collie rescue.

Cedie is an absolute sweetie and is beautiful. She also is missing her right rear leg which makes her even more endearing to us.

I however at 3:20 AM was in some very deep REM sleep, way off in another world. I didn’t even hear the bull whip equivalent bark Cedie lets loose when she “really has to potty”. Cedie does not abuse this emergency bark so you know she really has to go.

I made an attempt just out of instinct to obey Gigi’s command. I pried open my eyes and they burned as if they were exposed to acid. I stumbled in the dark and finally said, “screw it” and landed back in the bed.

Cedie requires a little extra attention on a potty break. She prefers to have a small tree to lean on to help support her weight when she squats. This requires that Cedie go over to the forested side lot. Second. Cedie is very afraid of monsters and the dark. So anyone helping her on potty breaks in the dark must remain in sight of Cedie.

Gigi as usual performed her motherly duties while half asleep and I laid there like a mushroom.

As we attempted to drift back to sleep we both heard a chirp, pause, chirp.

“What the hell is that?” Gigi asked.

“I think it the smoke alarm battery telling us it’s going dead. Just ignore it.” I said.

I knew for sure if I couldn’t let the dog out then no way could I climb a latter, turn on the light, find a battery and reverse this process and get back sleep.

Gigi said, “Why don’t you just disconnect the battery so it’ll shut up.”

“Gigi, sure as shit we’ll have a house fire and both die”, I retorted.

We laid there in silence except for an occasional chirp of the now dying battery.

I though, why in the hell do smoke alarms require those goofy square batteries? I have a drawer full of assorted round batteries but I know we don’t have any square 9 volt batteries.

Gigi asked, “Is our will up to date? Who is the executor?”

“Your brother Mark”, I said.

“Oh my God”, she said. “We have to change that. Mark would come in and shoot the animals, burn the house and settle the estate in days”.

“Well who else has some sense and isn’t closer to death than us?” I said. “We couldn’t get your brother Pat. He would make a museum of the place and put us in bed in a glass sarcophagus display like Lenin’s tomb. The estate would never settle. And all the animals would get fat”.

There is a long pause of silence.

“Gigi, if you scratch my back I think I could fall back asleep. At least one of us could have a good nights sleep and it might as well be me”, I said.

“I was thinking the same thing”, Gigi said.

There is a long pause of silence.

Redneck Report

Okay, our mullet wearing, mouth breathing redneck neighbor dumped a load of bricks in front of our house on the State Road right-of-way.

He is a brick mason just in case I was mistaken. It was fairly easy to match.

So I called the Highway Patrol and they were highly pissed off to hear about this idiot giving them more trouble about the right of way.

Then I called the NC Department of Environment and Natural Resources, Division of Waste Management. Likewise they were pissed too.

Then I made a quick call to the county Department of Commerce to request a business inspection. It seems you have to deal with solid waste by the law. You can’t just dump your business crap anywhere, even on you own property.

As usual, the local folks are slow to respond and want to dump the responsibility on someone else.

2 out of 3 ain’t bad.

Colors of the Week

I associate colors with the days of the week. I have done this all my life.

Back in college I wrote a paper on this subject and received a B-. I think the professor thought I was a nut.

Ever since then, I have kept this color association a secret. I figured that this concept, if made public, would be the final straw for some adult to commit me to a mental institution.

Some days colors are constant like Wednesday. Wednesday has been a yellow day all my life.

Thursday has always been uniquely amber. No other day has ever been amber.

In fact, most days are confined to several basic colors blue, green, yellow, and red with an occasional but rare mix if the day is changing colors.

There are no rules to the colors; it’s just what I mentally see. The colors rarely change but can change over time.

Now the weird part of the story just in case you didn’t think this was creepy enough.

Two years ago at a crowded family Christmas dinner, my oldest sister Etta somehow starts talking about how she associates colors with the days of the week.

I jumped in and said I too have colors for each day of the week. My nephew Tom thought this was absurd and accused of rehearsing this routine for after dinner family entertainment.

As soon as Etta and I realized we had the same associations we started blurting out the colors. All days matched exactly with Wednesday and Thursday being exactly the same constant and the exact same color.

I wonder how our brains got wired this way?

This association skipped Judy the middle child.

Color Key

Monday – Turquoise (currently, I think this day is changing colors)
Tuesday – Green (Currently and most often but sometimes yellow)
Wednesday – Always Yellow
Thursday – Always Amber (more of the color of tea)
Friday – Yellow (currently)
Saturday – Blue (currently)
Sunday – Yellow (currently)

Things That Irritate Me

Lumpy or thick grits. If the grits are both thick and lumpy I get real mad.

Little fish that bite at your moles in a lake. I hate those raspy little teeth mistaking me for part of the food chain.

Nibbling ducks. I like ducks I just hate to be nibbled by ducks. It feels very creepy.

People that want to push back or forward a schedule. I never know what in the hell they are talking about.

The Phone

I am on the phone a lot in my business.

It used to be easy dialing a number and just sit and wait for someone to answer. You could talk to someone in the room, read, write, watch TV, type, breathe through your mouth, or whatever. All you were hearing was a ring and either a voicemail or whomever you called.

It was very common for someone, spouse or secretary, to talk to you while you were on this wait time. You could hear what they were saying and you could respond.

Now however, you must stay tuned to the phone and do work for the company you are calling. Only when you prove you deserve to talk to a person can you then talk to a real person. Often you end up talking to a disappointing and under educated person.

On the phone in NC, they ask if you want English or Spanish.

Then they trouble shoot your problem and you push the corresponding number.

Finally I’m off the hook? No, more questions so they can fine tune your problem.

Finally I get a person to talk to?

Not a chance. So a polite computer that now understands my Southern accent starts asking questions and it decides who I should talk to.

Meanwhile people in the room are stuck in 1980’s mode and attempt to talk to you while you are trying to answer a computer in the language it demands.

I can’t listen to the phone computer and a person at the same time.

Finally you hold and the computer tells you how much longer you have to wait, or how many other people are on hold as miserable as you.

Some tell you where you are in line so that you can muster some hope of talking to a person.

Companies like Direct TV know that some of their people are dumb. When they can’t answer a question they escalate you to a higher level (smarter person) and you get to talk to them.

Once, I went through three levels of dumb before I got a smart person. He was very smart. I was made because it took me 20 minutes to prove that I needed a smart person.

I get particularly upset when my Internet connection is down and the phone computer tells you that most problems can be solved by going to their site online. I feel my face getting red now. How stupid is that?

The Dog Days of Summer

Boy are we ever in the Dog Days of Summer. It is so muggy, hot, hazy and humid that a nearby hurricane or tropical storm would almost be welcome. Except for the fact that then it would be too humid for human habitation.

Living in North Carolina presents real weather extremes. The winter is dark, rainy and cold.

I’ll put up my NC winters with 34 degrees and misty rain up against anybody else’s “blank” feet of snow and “blank” below zero. Both are miserable.

Cold is cold, dark is dark, crap out of the sky is crap out of the sky. Okay, we don’t shovel rain and shovel very little snow. Most of our snow melts in days.

However the ground stays squishy and is unfit for walking all winter.

This is the exact reason I go to St Croix every winter. In the winter it a nice North Carolina May in February. Does that make sense?

What am I doing? I’m about to work myself into a winter funk talking about winter. I love my hot summer in comparison.

Yes! I embrace this hazy ozone sunrise!

Another 92 degree day that feels like 100 is fine. At least I have firm footing and solid ground.

A golf ball bounces nicely on this ground too. I’ll look at the positives.

So Far, So Good

I checked the homemade beer when I came home from vacation to see if there had been any bottle explosions.

Exploding bottles are said to be a rookie mistake during the carbonation period of your first batch of beer.

Just in case I stored the beer in the spare shower stall of the guest house. It was sitting there all neatly in the cardboard cases with no wet spots or stains.

Now I am wondering if the stuff carbonated.

In two more weeks I’ll find out.

I'm A New Old Person and I Need to Get Used to It

On our way home yesterday we pulled over to a McDonalds/Gas Station for some burgers and a quick pit stop for the dogs.

I walked in and ordered two small fries and two cheese burgers and two small drinks.

This whole idea of small anything flies in the face of corporate food America. Everything is supposed to be Super Sized. Low and behold you’ll notice that most people are super sized.

My meal gives me just over 500 calories and I am satisfied. Their meal would give me 1200 calories and I would be stuffed and soon fat.

The lady explained that for 7 cents more I could get twice the fries if I upgraded. I told her no thanks, but I could tell this troubled her. It wasn’t an issue of money, I just wanted to control the portion.

So she read me back the order, “Two small fries, two cheeseburgers, and two senior drinks”.

“Senior drinks? What the hell?” I’m thinking.

Holy crap, a senior drink! I am old right here in McDonalds. Where’s a mirror? I am in a mental panic. Show me something shiny so I can see my reflection. When did this happen?

Have I suddenly wrinkled up and humped over since I left the truck. There must be some mistake.

“Yes”, I said. That sounds right.

Be Strong

Okay, vacation is over. I will be strong.

I try to design my week after vacation to be a relative plunge back into work.

This time I have planned the wading end to the deep end immersing.

This morning I will go into the office and sign a bunch of stuff, open mail, make some decisions and prepare for tomorrows meetings.

Then off to an afternoon tee time with my associates. It’s a meeting of sorts, honest.

I consider this my first attempt at a gradual compression back to work rather than the traditional plunge. I can already tell I like the concept.

Last night I woke up and could have sworn I was in the RV.

The dogs were ecstatic to learn that we did not sell the house. They were very happy to get home and run off leash.

Haley ran inside and went straight to her toy box to take inventory. Gosh they are smart.

I started the day as usual making coffee. As I poured the milk it slipped from my hands and slashed all over the floor. From nowhere dogs rushed in and began lapping up the milk. What friends they are! If life gives you spilt milk, mix it with dirt and dog hair and make something disgusting from it is their motto. I’m sure it tasted good to them and it sure was a help to me.

That's All Folks!

Today is tear down day. It always sad to pack up the gear and head home, not to mention it is a pain in the ass.

The dogs really enjoyed the beach trip yesterday. They are all stepping more lively this morning, no wait; they somehow know we are going home. How stupid for me to assume the beach memory did it. They see me packing and know they want to be on board.

If all goes well we can be home in about 7 hours. If not I can change a tire this time.

I have had a very good wireless Internet connection until two days ago. Now I can’t even post the blog or check email. This is camping, so I expect to suffer some inconveniences.

Thank goodness the satellite TV and TIVO worked as expected. I don’t think we could bear the hardship otherwise.

I’m planning to ease back into work Monday. I have a vigorous morning ½ day planned followed by an important meeting on the golf course with all my reps. I sure hope my past two games follow through on Monday.

What to Do

The weather was almost perfect today. The humidly was low and the temperature was in the low 80’s if that.

We ended up riding bikes in the morning and agonized about how to spend the last afternoon on such a perfect day. Should we play golf? Should we go to the beach? When should we eat supper? What about the movie?

This discussion went on far too long. A decision was never rendered.

I ended up taking a nice relaxing nap, woke up, had a few beers and went to supper. Fried oysters again at Spankeys.

The 7:00 PM movie was sold out so…. back to the campground. Hello!! When you have a blockbuster movie on your hands consider showing it in multiple theaters.

This whole area is lacking quality food and quality entertainment. I can’t quite figure out the mindset or the mental disconnect. Someone in the Golden Isles needs to take some classes in tourist 101. I think there are too many state employees.

Tribute to Galaxy

For those who don’t know we lost our border collie Galaxy to lymphoma last January 5, after a long and unsuccessful battle with the disease.

Our goal was to treat her with all that veterinary medicine had to offer, and the deal we made with God was, “Please God, let us take her to Jekyll Island this summer just one more time”.

It wasn’t to be.

So in her honor I made a small dog tag with the inscription:

Our Best Friend

This afternoon we placed the tag on a cedar tree overlooking her favorite swimming beach on Jekyll Island. Then we scattered some of her ashes on the beach and at the base of the tree.

It was not uncommon for Galaxy to swim in the calm salt water for what seem like 30 minutes. Frequently dolphin would appear nearby as if to protect her.

We miss you very much Galaxy!

The Man in Black

Well it’s Saturday and we have but one last day of vacation.

This morning I have to fuel up the truck, get some more bottled water and pick up the spare tire.

Then we must walk down clam creek with the dogs. We have not done the walk this year which we usually do daily.

Haley is still such a handful, Peaches is still recovering from ACL and Cedie moves at her own speed. None of the dogs are in sync like last year.

Yesterday I played golf and shot a 94. This is incredible for me. Up to this point I had only broken 100 three times. I shot the third 99 score just the other day. Now a 94!

This afternoon at around 3 PM we plan to watch Pirates of the Caribbean and then one final oyster run to Spanky’s with the family.

The man in black finally showed up yesterday. He’s not much of the outdoorsy type. He loathes sweat, deet, mosquitoes, campfires, shorts, dirt, rednecks, socio economically deprived, comfort food, dogs, outdoor chairs, trees, sky, children, cats, wind, surf, sand, etc.

He is more at home in air conditioned cars, malls, bookstores, suits, hotels, black clothes, airplanes and Applebee’s.

However we are grateful to be in his audience for his annual single visit. Last year he was grouchy on his visit. This year he was not as grouchy.

He sits and tells us of his conquests and insults us all.

Usually he upsets the natural order of things when he arrives. The man in black will give directives on scheduling just before he leaves.

I used to have an uncle much like this but we won’t go into that now. Suffice it to say he was a peculiar recluse, and will still joke about him 20 years after his death.

Nude RVing

The RVing lifestyle is extremely varied.

There are some people here living a 5 star Ritz Carlton experience in a million dollar motor home and others are on the verge of human existence in a tent.

Most folks fall into the resort Hampton Inn experience with a fairly new travel trailer or motor home with AC/heat, carpet, a kitchen, bathroom and bedroom.

In no time you meet your neighbors and their pets or kids and find out what they do and where they are from.

It is commonly accepted behavior to walk around and stop and talk to about anyone about most any subject.

You would never go around a hotel knowing anything about your neighbors.

Its fun to watch new people come in and set up, and watch the ensuing arguments of husbands and wives road weary and in need of rest.

Morning is always a quiet time with a few men wondering around with coffee mugs and the heavy smells of people splurging on bacon and sausage filling the air.

At night the places closes down pretty early. This campground is dead by 10 PM which is just fine for a good nights rest.

Very rarely do you get the type of riff raff that some associate with RVing like Cousin Eddie on Christmas vacation. My neighbor at home is more disgusting than anyone I’ve seen here so far.

For some reason RVing seems to attract lesbians. Not gay men however, just gay women.

I don’t pretend to be an authority on the gay lifestyle but somewhere the RVing and Lesbian lifestyle intersect.

For me a nudist campground would be miserable. Image how much off you would use? I am sure the off would also burn on some tender places that you did not want bitten.

Plus RVing doesn’t usually attract the most beautiful people and it so damn hot most folks would end up sitting around their trailer naked in the air conditioning. What fun is that?

One RV clothing optional resort shows a playground with a slide. That slide has to hurt and it has to be nasty. No thanks.


Yesterday while Hunter and I were golfing and collecting bacteria at the water park, Gigi was busy cooking up a classic Southern dinner for the gang.

The menu was slow cooked stew beef, rice, corn, fried okra, pecan pie, buttered bread, and I’m sure I forgot something.

I ate I know a quart of the okra.

Dinner was followed by a very muscular and powerful thunderstorm. We all stayed dry in the tent room and appreciated the cooling breeze.

Around 8:00 PM a lightening hit knocked out the power to the campground.

Electricity is the lifeblood to any RV park. It is the source of precious air conditioning, television entertainment, lights, etc.

In a few minutes all the RV’s become stagnate dark and boring. Soon you see people wondering around in the dusk like zombies hoping for a cool breeze and anything entertaining.

I called it quits and went to sleep.

Golf Part III

Yesterday I took Hunter my 9 year old nephew to the golf course for his first real game of golf.

Patience was the order of the day. There was fascination with the golf cart, ball washer, tees, club cleaning, water drinking but somehow there was a real disconnect to the actual game of golf.

Hunter did connect a few shots and seems to have fun.

Hunter was quiet the gentleman though and appreciated for the most part the reverence us adults had for the game.

After 4 hours and 9 holes we decide to have a hot dog and call it a day.

Water Park

Oh the humanity!

In the afternoon Hunter, Barbara, Dianne and I went to Summer Waves Water Park on the other end Jekyll Island.

The attraction brings in one mass of redneck humanity. There were tattoos, fat, body piercing and I am sure countless bacteria and toenail fungi.

For the adults there were lots of fake boobies.

The teenagers did what teenagers have done for centuries. The children were in heaven because they don’t know about bacteria and hormones.

We were treated to the searing hot concrete walk of bravery to the lazy river where old Uncle Reggie reclined for the next 30 minutes.

Then it was off to the shady concession where we had a drink and watched more tattoos, fat, body piercing.

RV Living

Living in an RV demands exact and well planned moves.

Last night I was making my way to bed. It was almost pitch dark. There were border collies of various sizes laid out across the floor.

My goal was to get to bed and not step on any dog legs.

As luck would have it I missed all the dogs but stepped on the edge of their water bowl flinging the contents all over the tiny living room.

Even though the room is small the drone of the air conditioner acts like a jamming device on hearing. You have to be very close to someone to hear them.

Just this morning I heard Gigi ask, “Did you fart?”

“No!” I said hurtfully. This was a legitimate question but I was innocent.

“Did I fart?” I repeated.

“No, I said I love you with all my heart.”

Cedie has a morning routine where she asks to get in the bed with us anywhere from 3:30 AM on.

Since she only has three legs it requires on of us to get up and give her a boost. Otherwise she will sit by the bed side and annoy you until you do get up and put her in bed with you.

I carefully crawled off the end of the bed, hoisted Cedie up and gently bent over to get back in the bed. For some reason Gigi had her knees bent skyward and I banged my mouth on her knees. Ah the room in an RV.

Haley has a disgusting habit of literally floating up on the bed in the morning and taking deep sniffs of my breath. Then she commences to rolling all over my face like she has found the perfect stink to roll in.
She repeats this with Gigi.

Golf Part II

If a golfer plays golf by himself, can you still hear him cuss?

The answer is a resounding yes.

I played 18 this afternoon by myself at the 3:00 PM special rate.

The weather was perfect. The humidity was down, the sky was Carolina blue, and a gentle breeze blew the entire afternoon.

I hit some of my best drives ever. I measured one at 260 yards and it was straight as an arrow.

I finished the round at a “decent for Reggie” 99. It the 3rd time I’ve scored below 100.

When I finished the round I set up a tee time for the morning for a round with my 9 year old nephew Hunter. It will be his first.

Then I headed home for a few beers and off to dinner with the gang to eat these special oysters at Spanky’s.

The food and service was decent but nothing to write home about. I’ve had much worse on the island. This was very typical Southern Coastal fried seafood.

Black Ants From Home

We brought some ants from home. Theses are great big old North Carolina ants. They don’t do much but walk around.

They are not biters like red ants or fire ants.

Gigi has personally killed about 2,500 ants with her bare hands. Gigi hates ants.

Haley has gotten to be a real good ant pointer. Gigi likes that. Anything for the cause.

These ants aren’t much of a nuisance except some got into Gigi’s lemonade and this made her furious. Gigi loves her lemonade and hates ants. This was a particular cultural error on the part of the ants.

Gigi switched to chemical warfare at this point. Now we have little ant poison traps all over.

The instructions say that the ants will eat this poison and somehow be talked into taking the poison home (which is our RV) and it will kill all the ants and their queen.

Now I see sickly and confused little ants walking around.

Dog Hair

The dogs just love camping. There are so many sights to see and smells to smell and so little time.

Haley thinks this RV is about the cutest thing she has ever seen. She actually seems to prefer staying inside and watching from the window rather than going on sniffing expeditions around the campground with Peaches and Cedie.

Dog hair is always an issue when you are confined in a small space with three dogs. We vacuum the camper daily and ignore the car. The car is encrusted with hair.

Cedie is a master shedder. Her thin long, wavy can be found almost everywhere. It follows me to work, travels in my suitcase on trips, and is in every corner of the RV, car and home. God I love that dog.


For you that don’t know, RVs have a sort of sewer system that needs servicing at regular intervals.

There is a sewer holding tank for “black water”, i.e. anything form the toilet and a holding tank for “gray water, i.e. anything from any other water such as a sink or shower.

In hot weather, the tank can start to kick up some awesome and smelly gas. Typically this gas is contained and vented through the roof.

About every three days a “dump” of the tanks is required.

Gigi has nothing to do with the sewer system. She ignores the fact that it exists.

It is my sole responsibility to maintain and service the sewer system.

In very hot and humid weather you can get a whiff of sewer bleeding over regardless of how well you service the system.

The dogs just love to help me service the sewer tanks in the summer.


It was golf. We had a fun time.

In no way was it USGA rules golf, but it was golf.

We were treated by the first female drive by a wrist watch flying further than the ball. No names mentioned here.

The ladies did look good. They sported new shoes, skirts and tops. They were hot.

There were enough whiffs to keep us cool in the 90 degree heat.

Often there were times when a reminder of who’s cart was who’s, a gentle reminder to bring the putter and a ball, please hit from the ladies tee.

Talking at the tee box was the norm.

I love the women.


Meals are always fun when you are camping. They are especially fun when family is involved.

I’ve been married into Gigi’s family for so long that they feel like blood to me.

Tonight Sharon and Hunter came over for dinner.

The menu was grilled pork chops supplied by Barbara and grilled by Reggie. We had boiled red skin potatoes, peas and white corn on the cob.

Lime cheesecake and yellow cake with chocolate icing was for dessert. It was awesome.

Wendell drank some North Carolina Blueberry wine with his dinner.

We all ate in our tent room that is under the RV awning. I have several fans to at least keep some air moving and hopefully cool us down a bit.

After dinner the ladies sit, drink coffee, laugh and chat until dark and the guys wonder off to other things.

I of course am blogging with my time and having a glass of merlot.

We have an 8:17 tee time in the morning. Its guys vs. the girls in golf.

An Email to the Jekyll Island Authority


I am writing you all because this affects you all.

Today I booked a 90 minute dolphin tour for 8 leaving from the Marina at 2:00PM.

One of our passengers is handicapped. He can barely walk on his own with the aid of a cane. We thought it would be fun for him to get out and go on the tour with us.

I walked ahead and asked if it was okay to drop off this person at the dock and I was given the okay.

We dropped off the entire party at the dock.

Our driver backed up to make a three point turn to return to the parking lot and was verbally accosted by the dock master. He was rude and belligerent.

He was physically threatening and verbally threatening. He made this scene in front of his employees and other guests boarding the boat. Three of his employees crossed their arms and looked to be squaring off at our driver.

The dock master was upset that our driver had backed onto his grass.

It is my understanding that federal law mandates handicap accessible areas. We saw no signage and tried to make the best of the situation.

I kindly told the dock master to kiss my ass and we packed up everyone back into the pickup and came back to the campground.

We have been coming to Jekyll Island since 1992. Every time I visit the Marina or the restaurant there we have a bad experience. Their service is bad and the food is slow and marginal.

I felt surely they could pull off a boat ride.

Now I have 8 people with sitting around mad when we should have been enjoying a boat ride. 2 of the people are local that live on St Simons.

This could have been handled 50 different ways, all of them much more pleasant.

Reggie Hunnicutt
Site C-11
Jekyll Island Campground


Gigi and I were riding our tandem bike this morning when I rode through a big whiff of stink.

I asked Gigi, “Did you smell that? It smells like cat pee.”

“No”, she said. “I wasn’t breathing in.”

Then it occurred to me that the sense of smell is very dependant on breathing in.

Every other sense works all the time, seeing, feeling, hearing and touching.

At lunch so many people were talking at once that I couldn’t understand a damn word anyone was saying. Then I got accused of being deaf when I realized Gigi was talking to me. I had no iota of what she said.

Isn’t it frustrating when you have a big ol’ sneeze worked up and loose it just before you can finish it? It reminds me of something else.

Uncle Wendell can and tries to eat fried oysters every day. In the morning he talks about how good the fried oysters were last night. In the afternoon he talks about trying to find another place to eat fried oysters.

He ate some particularly good oysters last night at Spankys. He said Spankys would bankrupt him if he lived here.
Last night Sharon gave me two real cool books on Home Brewing. I really enjoyed making that batch of beer. I hope Pickens the cat is watching over it while I’m gone.

Motown Concert

The Motown concert at St Simons Island was fun.

We picked up a monster bucket of chicken and headed to my sister in laws house.

Sharon had prepared the drinks and reserved a spot near the lighthouse. Hunter, Bill and I rolled and carried a load over and settled in.

It was quiet crowded already and we squeezed our way to the reserved spot.

Again it was hotter than usual and a breeze was scarce. We gave up after the set and headed home to watch a funny move at Sharon’s.
I got busted big time by Gigi staring at some woman walking by. I swear I didn’t even remember seeing her.

Check out these monster calves

and the weggie. A classic huh?

It's Hot!

It is quite hot and oppressive here. You get soaking wet trying to set up camp and the mosquitoes are vicious. Fun huh? It can be though.

I do not enjoy RVing nearly as much as I used to. But it is the only way to take the dogs with us. I thoroughly enjoy having the dogs with us and there are some conveniences to RVing.

However I can do without the stress of towing, packing, unpacking, cleaning, setup and teardown. It is a lot of work.

Fortunately or unfortunately I am a schedule person. I live and die by what I have planned. If we plan to do nothing then that is a plan to me. Just let me know.

I am with a group of unscheduled people. There is a lot of talk about things they want to do but rarely do they actually pull any event off. That is okay, it’s just the way they are and I respect that. I am different however.

I do know that there is a concert at the lighthouse tonight and I will be there. And there is a dolphin tour tomorrow at 2:00 that I have paid for. Other than that, folks keep talking about riding bikes, going into town, etc. I doubt any of that will happen. If it does it will be hours and hours before they actually muster the organization to get going.

It reminds me of TV people and non TV people. Non TV people somehow think they are culturally superior to TV people. I am a TV person. So is Gigi. We watch entirely different things but we get entertainment value from TV. You that are not TV people are fine too. (I am not talking about you Michael and Terry. You watch movies)

Gigi’s uncle Wendell is here. He’s 75 now and is showing every bit his age. We love Wendell and I enjoy his stories.

Wendell was telling me this morning that age took care of his sex drive years ago. But in his mind he still had dirty thoughts. Then the butt shot he had last year took care of the dirty thoughts too. So he is completely free to think about other things.

Wendell was referring to a series of female hormone shots he had last year for prostate cancer. They wiped his mind clean of any sex.

Then he told me a story about when his entire family got baptized at the church. They all were all to be completely dunked and were requested to bring their own towels.

Wendell said he was holding 5 wet towels and was going to take them to his car. He saw his car below from the third story of the church and decided to toss them out the window to his car to save steps and get back to the service.

He opened the window and tossed out the wet towels to the hood of his new BMW. The weight and velocity of the towels collapsed his car hood. Only Wendell.

What a Day

Good God Almighty! What a day!

We headed out early around 8:30 AM. We stopped by Hess and topped off the diesel tank for the short 3 ½ hour trip to Jekyll.

We spotted a McDonalds a few exits down and decided this would be adequate for breakfast. Anytime I see a sign that says busses welcome I know that I’ll find easy parking for me with my 32 foot travel trailer.

Unfortunately there was a real bus there loaded with real people. It looked like we were on the tail end of their visit so I decided to stay and order.

Now I divert for a slight history and culture lesson. We are in rural Low Country South Carolina. This area for centuries was dominated by a few whites and many straight off the slave ship blacks.

Culturally not a great deal has changed. The Blacks that stayed and did not go north still hold the lower paying jobs and still speak a variation of English called Geechy. I understand Geechy if I think and translate. I had experience living and going to school with many rural black growing up in Durham. So , I learned to understand their language and slang.

So I’m suddenly plunged in a distant long forgotten culture of my childhood, a busload of local blacks in a McDonalds being operated by local blacks. There were all speaking Geechy.

I managed to understand them and they struggled to understand me. We did manage to get breakfast ordered.

I will tell you I was quite surprised to find that they did not offer a country ham biscuit. Country ham is quintessential Southern and is expected to be a breakfast item at any restaurant especially a restaurant in the South. Shame on you McDonalds for not having country ham in the heart of the South.

We headed down the road for the uneventful trip to Jekyll.

About an hour ½ into the trip a car pulls up beside us and beeps their horn and starts pointing to the trailer. From my experience of towing I know this isn’t going to be good. So I turn on the flashers and pull off of VERY busy I-95 South and stop within feet of mile marker 37. I jumped out to cautiously to see what surprise is in store for me.

Upon inspection I find that the right rear passenger tire on the trailer has exploded and is smoking very bad. No fire but it is too hot to touch. The flange and part of the wheel well cover is broken or missing.

Once I determined the fire hazard is over I decide to get on with the tire change. I have a spare and a way to jack up the trailer. All I need to do is get the tire tool out of the pickup tool box and I’ll have it changed in ten minutes.

About a year ago my tool box was broken into while I was at a Carolina Panthers game. Many of my tools were stolen but I did not realize that my tire tool was stolen. So, I do not have the ability to remove the lugs off of my tire. The few wrenches I have do not fit the lugs nor would they have the leverage to remove the lugs if they fit.

So I get back into the idling truck and tell Gigi. “No fear,” she says and she calls the road service provided by her Cingular phone.

I-95 South on the 4th of July is about the busiest a road can be. It is the main artery to Florida and it just so happens this is race weekend in Daytona. Thousands of NASCAR rednecks are streaming by us at 75 MPH in the 90 degree weather.

Cars and trucks are going by so fast and so close that they shake the camper and car.

The dogs are behaving very nicely and everyone is staying comfortable in the AC. Gigi and I have a discussion about whether we will be all mean and pissy or will we choose to stay nice. We agree that we will be nice for now and get mad later.

To make a very long story short we finally get a repair truck to our truck 4 hours later. It costs $170 to remove 5 lug nuts and reinstall five lug nuts.

It would have been a deal at twice the price.

Instead of getting in to the campground early, we arrived around 5 PM.

At this time Gigi and I decided to get pissed off at each other.

Set up was hot but we got through it. Later we decided not to be bitchy to each other and all was well.

On Our Way

The eagle has landed and vacation begun.

I finished my afternoon appointment and headed home. Gigi had everything in order.

We boarded the truck starting first with those needing special assistance, and Cedie came on board, then those traveling with young children, Haley is the baby. And finally those passengers in the main compartment were boarded, Gigi, Boscoe and Peaches.

Haley and Cedie ride up front with me. Boscoe sits on my headrest and Gigi and Peaches sit in the back seat.

We got to Sweetwater about dusk and backed into a slot. Gigi took the dogs out to “do their business” while I set up the camper.

I hooked up Gigi’s new flat panel TV to the TIVO. It looked and worked very well with one exception. The audio failed. I can’t figure out what is wrong. So, we roughed it the first night and had to watch HBO in closed caption.

Speaking of roughing it, we decide to bring the Bunn coffee maker along this time. We miss the quality and speed of the Bunn when we travel. So we swapped out the old Mr. Coffee and put in the Bunn from Home. Awesome road coffee!

The dogs were so excited to wake up in a strange place by the lake. Right now Haley and I are watching this orange sunrise over the foggy lake. Gigi is out shooting a few pictures of it.

Let see, red sky in morning, sailor takes warning. I’ll bet we’ll have thunderstorms tonight.

We plan to pull out in a few hours and hit I-95 south to Jekyll Island.