The little matter of a junket to Tybee Island…

Later today, Reid hops a plane out of Chicago to his temporary work assignment in London.  His first day of work is Wednesday.  As any of us would, he’s looking forward to it, although I’m not sure if he’s looking more at the work or at London.  Probably both.

If the summer schedule plays out as it is currently scripted, the chance of me getting over there to visit this new expat are slim and none.  It’s just not in the cards.  Reid is over there for roughly two months and if his stint stretched into October or November, then it might be a different matter.  But it’s not.  I’m already committed to the Twin Cities to check up on Emma and her domain plus the Bridger Wilderness is set in stone, too.

The morning after we rode across the isthmus from Tybee Island to Savannah, we stopped along the Savannah River long enough to stretch our legs. Felicia deserved a few hours away from her workday grind. Moments after this shot was taken, we saddled up again. This time, up to Hilton Head on back roads.

Then there was the little matter of a junket for Felicia and me to Tybee Island, Georgia this past weekend.  She has worked long, tedious hours and she deserved a 27 hour getaway to this tiny little stretch of sand that is a great spot.  As she tells it, it has what Myrtle Beach and some of the over-commercialized ocean front tourist traps do not: a coziness that comes with a community scarcely a mile or two long (at the most), some beach bars that serve cold drinks, and two greasy spoon breakfast nooks worth the trip alone.  The price of admission to any of the spots we happened upon were flip flops and shorts.  We rode the Harley this time, and no Chamber of Commerce could have ordered any better weather.  We took the back road from Savannah to Hilton Head where a couple of cold beers washed away any road dust and made our lunch along the ocean taste a little better.

Ellen sent this photo with a one word caption: Chillin’. Already Emma is changing day by day. I see her next on July 13.

For those expecting one more photo of Emma, here is the little wonder with one of her first discernable smiles.  Her mom sent this at precisely the right time as her gramps slogged through a Friday work day worth forgetting.

Here is last week’s letter.  The letter to be written today will be mailed to Ellen and emailed to Reid in London (as his will be for the next 7 or 8 weeks).

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June 11, 2012

Ellen/Reid: Well, one would suppose this will be the last letter on paper you’ll receive for a while, Reid.  While you’re ‘over there’ I’ll send the notes by email attachment.  It will sort of be like when you went to Finland.  I’m looking into a short visit while you’re there, but there may be some things working against it.  Certainly the Olympics and all that revolves around it (higher prices, price gouging, etc., and that includes airline tickets) but it would sure be great fun to figure out how to make a four or five day visit work.  My passport is still valid for another year.  But never say never because this would be a once-in-a-lifetime situation to get over there to see you.  It’s all so exciting.  There will be so much ado about the Olympics, Wimbledon, the royal family, et al.  The ‘biometric appointment’ took me a little off guard but that’s just the way security is these days.  Just make sure you send us a lot of photos.  It might be fun to keep a short term journal of your adventure.

And Ellen, the picture of you and Emma at Home Depot is just hilarious.  A family shopping trip to a hardware store.  I laughed out loud at those little appendages dangling outside her kiddie harness or whatever it is you call it.  It’s too early for her to make decisions about the décor of her room but that time will come.  I have sprinkled her new photos around the townhome and will send a framed one to you that appears to be a duplicate.  We can’t wait to get up there on the 13^th of July.  We plan to stay at a B&B down on Grand.  Felicia correctly advises that it would be good for us to stay out of your hair.  One less stressor for you guys to deal with.

We head down to Tybee Island, Georgia on Friday for one night at a cheap hotel plus a few nice walks on the beach.  We’ll take the bike and cruise on down because it’s not too bad a jaunt.  Tybee Island is a smallish place just outside of Savannah and it doesn’t have the size and noise and distractions of a Myrtle Beach or some of the other island hot spots.  The little burg features one of the all time great greasy spoon breakfast spots where, if you’re not wearing flip flops, you’re out of place and conspicuously out of style.  You can tell Tim that it appears to be a redfish paradise, what with all the little fingerling inlets and such that push way inland.  I’d love to cast a line but there just won’t be enough time for it.  Felicia has to be back on Sunday so she can go to Shelby for Father’s Day.  Tybee is kind of a fall-back position because I’m still trying to get the time share thing figured out.  I have totally squandered that resource.  Totally wasted it.

Betsy got a new job at the bank.  Her other position might have been drawing to a close but she has landed on her feet and in a better spot.  She’ll start to work from home which will be a new experience for her.  I’ve assured her she will love it.

The weather is beginning to warm up here and before you know it we’ll be up to our necks in heat and sweat.  But the spring has been great here and there are no real complaints.  The weather may warm up but my golf game remains cold.  I’ve completely lost touch with the sport.  It would be the one thing I’d discourage Emma from taking up.  But there is some signs of success around here.  Finally, after years of trying without success, there are some eating sized tomatoes forming on the vine just outside the front porch.  And I’ve cleaned out the garage of rickety old shelving and other what-not so that looks better at long last.  There is plenty more to do around here.

Reid, the parting words are: stay in touch.  Let us know how your world turns in London and it would be wonderful to see photos of where you live, where you work and where you visit.  This is a great opportunity for you.  Don’t be surprised if your old man knocks on the door looking for a place to sleep, even if it’s the floor.  Have fun over there, kid.

A period of relative calm…

Henry the Conehead is a picture of absolute despair. Ellen says he'd otherwise nibble at a wound on his paw. Poor guy.

Not a whole lot has changed in any of our situations; mom is the same (good), Ellen and Reid are getting on with things (more good) and the bank continues a drip-drip-drip process to condition employees for the inevitable before it lowers the job-cutting boom (not so good).  All in all, it is a period of relative calm.  Still, we three have our own brand of hurricane season.  Hanging over our heads is the omnipresent threat of heavy weather blowing in.  You know it will happen, you just don’t know when and with what force.

Caught in the calm was last week’s letter.  It reverted to the letters of old (before what is known as the “Betsy Admonition” to make the letters more meaty with less fluff so as to keep her – and anyone else’s – attention).  Fluff was apparently in vogue last week.

Of note was the decision by my boys in Des Moines – Bob, Dave 1 and Dave 2 (I am Dave 3) – to make a courtesy trip to CLT.  As with Coeur d’ Alene last September, we will reconvene for golf and wine although not necessarily in that order.  Last year was something of a sympathy tour for them in terms of me (I will give them their due credit: they ponied up for virtually all the expenses) but this time is more of a guy’s trip where we’re all on more-or-less equal footing.  As Dave 3 has told chief organizer Dave 1, the caveat is how and when events will unfold in the Midwest.  That could derail the best laid plans.

As for next week’s letter, hopefully it will be de-fluffed sufficiently to meet the “Betsy” standard.

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September 12, 2011

Ellen/Reid: Now, the last few days of weather here are what North Carolina is all about.  Sunny and warm, but not too hot, beautiful evenings with low humidity.  If the state Chamber of Commerce wants to tout nice weather as an enticement to those wanting to relocate to the South, they can start with this past weekend.

Haven’t heard from your uncle in the past couple of days which I take for a sign that nothing much has changed for your grandmother.  It’s good if she appears to be holding her own.  She’s always been a fighter.  My friend John at Caldwell has asked me about her situation regularly.  He’s very good about that.  Several others there have commented, too.  I suppose that just shows the relatively small size of the church community.

Apparently there will be reprise of the trip to Coeur d’Alene from last fall.  Bob Furstenau, Dave Hemminger and Dave Dahlquist will come down to visit Bradley Acres here in Charlotte in early November for a four day weekend, and we will drink wine, tell stories, and venture over to Pinehurst to play course #2, the track where the U.S. Open has been held and will be held again in a couple of years.  We will use caddies, which is always fun.  Pat D. still does a land-office photo business with Pinehurst so it will be fun to walk in the Pro Shop and see the work on display.  We’ll play another course over that way on Friday, drink more wine on an overnight stay in Pinehurst, get up to a hearty breakfast and Advil and then play #2 on Saturday morning before resurfacing in Charlotte.  This time Jane is relieved of any planning duties.  It’s on the broad shoulders of the rest of us.  It’s nice of those guys to want to come down for a long weekend, given the hectic pace of their working lives.  That doesn’t apply so much to Dave H. as he spends lots of time down on his farm in southern Iowa.  I think Bob is gearing up for retirement.  He uses all his vacation time to good advantage; motorcycle rides through the Rockies and just this week, a golf escapade in Scotland.  I think Gordie is on that trip but I’m not altogether sure about that.  Lucky stiffs.

Looks like my next college teaching gig on writing for newspapers may fall through.  Doesn’t look like we will reach the minimum number of attendees (which is only seven or eight or something like that).  For some reason I thought the attendance would be very good but that’s not the case.  I was actually pretty excited about teaching this course.  Given that newspapers are falling through the floor, maybe budding writers can read the tea leafs and see there aren’t many newspaper jobs.  Perhaps, too, it should be renamed “News Writing.”  That way, we can cover print, online and broadcast.  As Felicia says, “We’ll see.”  Hopefully the college will give me another crack at it.

Felicia is out on the Outer Banks this week with some of her past cronies from Shelby and other North Carolina cities.  After the summer she’s had, she deserves the R&R.  As far as can be told, they are riding bikes, walking, and drinking wine.

Reid, I’m sorry to err in not booking our Thanksgiving flight arrivals closer together.  That was totally boneheaded on my part.  I had the chance to make things uber convenient and blew it.  Since you get in earlier than me, and Ellen, if you’ll indulge him, you could get picked first at noon and then come back to pick up your old man at 4:33 on U.S. Airways.  I’m really excited for the T-Day trip and to have something to look forward to.  As much as I grouse about not wanting to travel anymore, it’s one trip I’m looking forward to.